Despite the thawing of spring, Krofburg today is bitterly cold. The few people who venture outside of their homes do so thickly wrapped in cloaks and suspicion, eyeing the others whom they pass with fearful, threatening eyes. In the night, the rumors go, the Count's men came and took away the Steward; in her place, they have a new lord, Edoard, whom few remember as other than a spoiled, impetuous boy who disappeared decades ago. His sudden reappearance, and the violence of the night's actions, chill the city like hoarfrost. Even the Tent City's usually boisterous and irrepressible energy is subdued, flat. The wind has changed, and it is a bitter one.