The estate of the once-proud Crydias family stretched before them, a dignified sprawl of stone and shadow nestled within Caerywn's eastern quarter—quiet, sun-drenched, and aging with grace.
Marble arches leaned like elderly caretakers, proud but weary, and the garden paths wound through untrimmed hedges that whispered of better days.
"I know it looks… less,"
Virellen began, mischief curling at the edge of her voice like a ribbon of smoke.
"But this was once the envy of every merchant in the capital."
Aurevia's gaze passed over the dull sheen of tarnished lanterns and worn statuary.
"Was,"
She repeated softly, crimson eyes narrowing with the instinctive scrutiny of one born to high halls.
"The bones are still noble."
"The bones don't pay taxes,"
Virellen quipped with a grin, gesturing them forward.
