MIRRORS
“The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
Jarrod, Thron, and Aever rode through the outer barbican at Gateskeep Palace along with five knights of the Order of the Swan. Evening loomed in layers of gray above the towers and walls, and a new round of snow squirreled about in friendly gusts of wind. Lanterns and external fireplaces built into walls glowed throughout the grounds, and it had a Christmas feel with an inch or so of squeaky snow on the ground.
They dismounted to a find a team of valets behind them, and they made short work of taking their bags and leading away the horses. “That big one has a wound, left side, on his flank,” said Jarrod, and turned to find himself facing three stern nobles in expensive furs and soft castle boots.
One of
