He was standing in the midst of a very dimly lit room. The room was large and had an aristocratic touch. There were paintings of ancient landscapes hung on the wall. All around him, different shaped candles lit up the dark place while a tapestry hung on one side of the wall, showing different branches of a tree.
He stared at it curiously. Where am I? He wondered. He was so absorbed in the unfamiliar place that he did not notice the liquid flowing from his hand. He looked down and to his horror, his hands were covered in wet, sticky blood. He wanted to move but his mind had no control over his body. His hands were clutching a bloodied sword.
"What-"
He was frantically scanning around the room when something grabbed his foot. He looked down to see a gravely injured man, looking up at him with fury and hatred.
"You...you will...pay…" the man whispered. The man looked on the verge of dying yet, there was a manic smile on his face.
