Let There Be Edits

 Proof in-hand, edits underway! 

Oliver laughed, and blinked the dark spots from the corners of his vision. He needed breakfast, he reasoned. A bracing cup of strong tea. “I wouldn’t–”

The clearing between the tents, the trampled snow, the drakes crunching up deer bones a distance away; their audience, and the shouts of the men calling orders, the lowing of the reindeer, and the hustle and bustle of a disassembling camp…gone. All of it.

Oliver stood on a floor of polished black marble, its surface gleaming beneath the glow of the cressets burning on the walls. Walls made of a glossy, rosy stone veined with white and green. He turned, and found that the room was a perfect circle, the torchlight reaching high overhead to flicker across the domed, glass panels of a see-through roof. The walls weren’t walls at all, but a series of arches, save where a man-high fireplace blazed along one five-foot stretch. Beyond the arches it was dark, and all was silent save the crackle and shift of the logs in the fire.

A round table sat just to his left, in the center of the solarium – that’s what it was. He’d not seen one in person, but had pored over architecture books in the library at Drakewell. Accordingly, the table was littered with star charts, and maps. Aquitainia, he saw.

By the fire was a chair, and in it sat Romanus Tyrsbane.