In the dimly lit study on the opposite side of the sprawling castle, the thick velvet curtains had already been drawn shut against the night, casting the room in a warm, golden glow from the hearth fire that crackled softly in the background. The scent of aged brandy and old books hung heavy in the air, a quiet testament to the power and history that lived within these walls. Prince Thas lounged in one of the leather armchairs, his long legs stretched out, swirling a glass of brandy lazily in his hand as he looked across the low table at his father, Peter, a seasoned man of quiet cunning, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, whose presence always seemed to make the shadows lean in closer. "What do you believe about tonight?" Thas asked casually, though his tone carried more weight than the r