It had been a week since the Count was given notice to vacate his residence at Dragonwood. Dante's ocher-hued eyes slowly scanned the study from his seat in the desk chair, taking in the sight of the bookshelves lining the walls. They were now empty and packed, along with his swords and armor. They had been crated and sent to the docks at the Port of London.
He exhaled a deep, heavy sigh before opening the drawer of the desk.
Removing a few long-forgotten documents. The smell of old paper hit his nostrils. He quickly stuffed them into the wooden crate beside him. Some papers had not been touched in so long. They had turned yellow and crumbled in his hand.
His heart seemed to sink lower and lower with each minute of packing the mansion. He felt a wave of despondency wash over him. The only time he felt worse was when Claire left him.
