Apologies for the pause. I will get the story back underway soon.

I lean heavily on the table to look down upon the map of Merolith, the capital city of Dunn Maris, and the surrounding region. The southern gate is the Angel Gate, with the manor beyond. On the north side is the Ram’s Gate, and to the East the Dragon Gate. I don't know who named them or why, and at the moment don't particularly care. I run my hand over Angel Gate manor. It was where my father was born, and his father, going back generations. And now it has returned to its rightful heir.

( Augustan is desperate... )

I don't eat much for breakfast, due not so much to nerves as to the multitude of well-wishers who continue to rush over and greet Soren and myself. Soren tolerates this well, running his boot into my shin every time I go to shoo someone away.

( Verona runs up as we are finishing our tea... )

Morning comes all too soon. I'm just drying my face when there is an excited pounding upon my door, and it flies open to admit a swirl of braids and green and black velvet. "Zaphael!"

( Verona? )

I close the door behind me and lean my back upon it for a moment. Before me is a large sitting room, with two windows across from me. Between them hangs a tapestry depicting an idealized battle of Pallas Arcum. Augustan had presented it to my father as a special gift.

( I straighten and open the heavy door on the right... )

Night has fallen by the time the carriage rolls through the sleepy town and across the bridge that arcs over churning seawater to bring us to the front courtyard of the Castle by the Sea. Torches set high in the towering walls illuminate us as we climb from the carriage and pick up the bags that are thrown down to us.

( A robed figure appears in the archway... )

The evening deepens, and we come up along the Sea just as the sun touches it, throwing its golden path across the churning water. The carriage races along the high cliffs, and as we round a bend, there in the distance we can see the gigantic castle that stands upon a great rock formation jutting out into the waves. At its very top tower is a lighthouse that has already been lit for the night; six more towers of varying heights surround it, and among them are rooms and buildings, going off in all directions, some low and squat, some tall and gaunt. The setting sun turns the pale gray stones orange and red. Then the carriage turns again and the castle vanishes from sight.

I lean back in the seat, heart suddenly pounding. I glance at Soren and he smiles a bit sadly. Nemean puffs on his pipe and gazes at the sea.

None of us speak. There is no need. There are no words.

We are eating breakfast in a private room when there is a light rapping at the door. I look over at Soren, who shrugs as he rises to answer it.

( The figure in the hallway is draped in long blue and tan robes... )

The ride to the border of Vychelle is blissfully uneventful. The people of the small town seem put at ease by our escorts, and we get not so much as a suspicious glance while we are there. We arrive very late at night, and decide to hire a coach for the following afternoon, so we have ample time to rest.

( The coach, of course is much finer... )