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The dining hall was not a place of warmth. Long tables stretched the length of the chamber, carved of dark wood so ancient their surfaces bore grooves like scars. The stone walls rose high, bare except for iron sconces where torches hissed and spat, their flames casting a restless glow. At the far end, beneath a great window of black glass, the captains sat in silence, their armor glinting faintly in the firelight. The new knights—no longer candidates, but not yet seasoned—filed into the room. Their boots echoed on the flagstones. Emil followed among them, his body aching from the first day of drills that had greeted them at dawn, though he knew this was nothing compared to what was to come. They sat at the lower tables, the places of the newly blooded. Older knights occupied the centra
- Writer
