Gerfaut — Volume 4

Guests gather around the oval table in the great hall of Bergenheim’s castle, summoned after a day of hunting. The baron’s wife, ever fastidious, has withdrawn from the evening’s feast, leaving the men to their wine‑filled revelry. Laughter erupts as Marillac, cheeks flushed, downs glass after glass, while the other hunters swap boasts about hares, stags and a mis‑fired shot that turned a cow into a trophy.

Beneath the boisterous banter, the baron’s demeanor flickers between forced mirth and a haunted stillness. At moments his face twitches, his eyes glaze over, and a silent, unsettling thought seems to grip him, only to be shattered by a sudden, sharp retort that steadies the room. Watching from across the table, the pale figure of Gerfaut studies these shifts with a keen, almost clinical interest.

The dinner becomes more than a simple celebration of the hunt; it hints at deeper secrets concealed within the castle’s walls. As the wine flows and the conversation turns to the mysterious escape route of a fugitive named Lambernier, listeners are drawn into a web of intrigue where loyalty, pride, and hidden fears begin to surface.