The winter blows in more than the occasional flurry. This afternoon, we are honoured by the arrival of two quite distinguished guests, the first of them being Lady Katherine Stanwood. She agrees to stay to dinner while reminding me of the horrible disaster that came of the last one in this house. "Ah, yes," I answer with feigned discomfort, "A most unfortunate evening with many-an-unwanted-guest, I'm afraid. Invitations to this house will now be strictly issued through nobody but myself and Lady Amalie." My silent cousin nods, introductions are made, and Sabine and Cosgrove diligently remain nearby to see to our needs. The house is ever so much more serene without the likes of Folcwaldings and Belcourts. Mrs Blatand and Cidwm have done marvellous work in sealing the house from the outside world, a world that is, at the moment, too great of a danger to those within.

Cidwm has reported on the activity now going on at Wyvern Tower. I have said that I will not disturb them so long as they do not disturb us. Amalie and Cidwm have both protested this attitude I have taken, convinced that any alliance against nature and goodness should not be allowed to exist within my domain, or any for that matter. Perhaps they are right. If I am to do anything about it, however, I shall wait for the New Year.

While I serve Lady Katherine a tumbler of hot, mulled wine in a pewter glass-holder, Amalie, Mel, Cosgrove and Sabine lead the great Beran into the foyer from outside. The band of silv'ry lunar metal round my finger warms at the giant's presence, this time a comfortable vibration, not a constricting warning. Begging Lady Katherine's pardon, I stride toward my great ancestor and give a slight bow to welcome him. "Your return to Drakesheath Hall is a great honour to us, Beran. It is not often that we have such a legendary figure in our house. I was charmed with tales of your deeds in my boyhood, my brains stuffed with songs and rhymes and other delightful mysteries. It is only in my adulthood that I discovered how far the fruit has fallen from the tree."

I lower my eyes slightly, as Cosgrove unburdens the Great Bear of the immense Yule log - nay, nearly an entire tree - slung over his shoulder. With little effort the gangling manservant wields the hearth fodder, breaking it down into more governable pieces. The fireplace in the foyer is the greatest in the house, and it is there that Cosgrove goes to work, bringing the warmth of Christmas to life.

"If it is true that you have put to death the curse upon this house, then I believe it possible to make amends and redeem the Godwinson name." I look to the giant for a sign of confirmation. He looks into the flames, as if seeking out a premonition. The frieze that runs throughout the Hall details the family's past, but if anything is to be seen of its future, perhaps we need only look into the dancing oranges and reds in the fireplace below the great coat of arms.