The Invitation to the Castle

The road winds through misty forests before opening into a wide avenue lined with ancient linden trees. Before you rises the castle – a massive structure of gray stone, with towers reaching toward the blue-gray sky. Above the gate, an unfamiliar coat of arms stands out: a silver griffin on a red field. The iron gate opens slowly, almost soundlessly. Your car rolls over the cobblestones of the inner courtyard, gleaming in the damp light. As you step out, a man in black livery emerges from the shadows of the entrance. He is tall, almost pale, with a slender face and impeccable posture. "Welcome, Thomas," he says in a calm, deep voice. His eyes regard you politely but attentively. "You are already expected." He turns and walks toward the entrance door, which opens as if by an invisible hand. Warm light spills from within the castle and touches the first step of the wide marble staircase. The butler waits there for you, one hand extended invitingly. "May I show you the way?"