The heir of House Eltesh rose before dawn every morning, not out of discipline but out of habit inherited from a father who had inherited it from his. The eastern tower had a window that faced the river, and from that window the light arrived several minutes before it reached the courtyard below, which meant that for a brief span each morning, the heir stood in daylight while the rest of the keep remained in shadow. It was during one of those mornings that the letter arrived bearing the seal of the Council and the particular weight of a document that would change everything. A summons. Not the kind that asks, the kind that informs. The heir read it twice, folded it against his chest, and looked east. The river had turned gold. The mist along its banks was thinning into nothing, and somewhere in the village beyond the walls a bell was ringing, the way it always rang, unaware of what the day would carry. 'May the dawn find us worthy,' the heir said to no one, and descended the stairs to wake the house...