DRAKENFELL — GRAND HALL
Tiberon Drakenfell was walking through the grand hall when he stopped.
The stopping was involuntary. His body halted mid-stride the way a man's body halts when the brain receives information that requires the legs to pause so the eyes can confirm what they are seeing, because what the eyes were seeing could not be correct, and the legs were going to wait until the eyes finished their assessment before committing to additional movement.
The eastern wall of the grand hall had been painted.
The mural was enormous. Floor to ceiling, spanning the full width of the eastern wall, rendered in oils that were still drying, the colors vivid and precise, the detail extraordinary.
