The heavy downpour was a soothing melody to Howard Falcon.

The nobleman was settled in his office, taking in the fervent showers drumming against the glass panes. He sighed softly and finally lifted a parchment—it was an invitation of Lord Wes. A small grumble would escape his lips, another party, and another chance for that hog of a lord to squander around his wealth. The noble moved to pick up his teacup, and taking a small sip before a grimace would cross his features. It was cold.

He would put the teacup back in its saucer, silently wishing for hot tea and then took his quill. Formalities required of him to reply, and so Howard pulled an empty parchment onto his desk, smoothing it slightly against the oaken wood. Dabbing some ink on the quill, he proceeded to write—he bolted up at the crash of the doors. The parchment now looked like a chicken’s scrawling, he clicked his tongue. Now who would-?

Lifting his gaze provided him the view of his lovely wife underneath the pale moonlight.

He sighed, how could he be upset right now? Beautiful red hair paired with enchanting green eyes that matched the gown she was wearing. It was like the Starlight ball that occurred two decades ago. She strode up to him and slammed her hands on the table, jostling the papers and his teacup.

“You!” She said.

Vehemence dripped in her tone, eyes flashing at him as she snarled and leaned close to him. How lovely indeed.

“Yes, me?” He asked.

Maybe humour could solve the tension a little bit? He eyed the teacup that nearly fell off the edge. The nobleman would move it closer to the centre of the table, letter forgotten.

“You haven’t called off the envoy at all did you?!” His wife crossed her arms.

“It was His Majesty’s orders, how could I disagree?” he sighed.

“Your kids will be endangered and that’s all you can think off?!” she exclaimed, her voice on the edge of shrieking.

He returned his gaze to his wife, now that she was closer, fine lines were evident in her face and crow’s feet surrounded her eyes. Not that it marred her features at all. However it was quite obvious that she was displeased, even more with his lack of a reply.

“Why couldn’t you have left for Zourian then?” she asked him, quieter but still hurtful. 

Her bitter words failed to rile him up. Howard Falcon merely held back from shaking his head, expect his wife to prefer him to go away.

“You know my responsibilities require me to stay in the estate.” He said.

“Excuses!”

He watched the woman pace back and forth inside his room. Her stilettos raking against the floor, at this rate, his rug would be shred in two. The noble decided to be silent as his wife fumed, but he knew it would be a hopeless case until he offered solace.

“Eva, my butler shall accompany them.” he said and tried to smile at her.

The woman turned to gaze at him, her expression livid before she stormed out of the room—leaving words that gave him a headache.

“What could one man do against the land of death?!”