The halls of the old palace were empty. Anything would have helped to keep it warm, but even oil was scarce. Never mind the electricity or the steam. Only small embers burned in a once grand fireplace. It was all that could be spared. Cobwebs dangled from the rafters consuming the insides like ivy in most other places. Mad ramblings echoed against the walls while the slight creaking of a chair rocking back and forth ticked the time away.

The sharp clack of unblemished shoes tapped towards the creaking sounds. Even the cobwebs receded to this new noise, trembling from an unseen wind stirring the old place.

"Who's there?" a voice asked. The tone was pitiful, full of sorrow.

"It's me, father," said the other. The tap of the shoes belonged to a taller man in a black suit. His golden curls spilled onto his shoulders attractively contrasting his bluish gold eyes.

The doors were open, yet the man with golden hair waited at the line separating marble from wood. The room was warmer than the rest of the house. The heat wafted over the man like the rolling ocean, ceaseless, yet something inside held onto the flames.

An older man with wispy snow white hair turned his head slight with a simple nod.

"How nice of you to drop by, Edward," the old man said. A slight tinge of sarcasm tainted the pleasant tone. "What do I owe the honor of this visit? It's not like an old man tires of being locked up in a flowery prison."

"I told you, father, it is for your own safety. Haven't you heard?"

"I know, I know." A hand fanned away the nonsense of a child trying to describe a world he knew too well.

"No you don't."

The old man in the chair stood up with a surprising youthfulness. He grabbed a stoker from the side of the room away from the fireplace. His gait turned to Edward, the stoke steady in front of him. He shook the metal at the man, "I don't need to be lectured by you."

The old man was at the fire quickly, prodding it back to life.

"You really don't know do you?" asked Edward.

"Know what?" The annoyance in the old man's voice grew wild.

"Your precious project was destroyed."

The chair creaked as the old body settled back into dull comfort. The air was still, captivated by the silence. Only the growing flames from the embers jiggled in response.

"Interesting," said the old man. "I'll inform them. Now leave a poor old man to his solitude."

Edward moved away from the door, his feet still steady near the line separating his father's domain. He walked down the hall towards the exit. It was longer than before, colder as he left that fire. A small, growing cackle trailed behind the blond man. The cackle turned into excited laughter as Edward opened the door. Rage mixed with anguish and the man cringed at the deafening sound. He shut the door silencing the laughter. The wind howled trying to match the old voice from inside. Only the faint wisps of a growing fire could be seen in the right wing of the old mansion.    

The carriage stood still, but the attached horses brayed eager for the travel ahead. The driver up top turned his head giving a formal nod, tipping his hat in the process. 

"Jones," said Edward. "Take me to the station. I need to get to Vienna."

"With haste , sire," said Jones.