It all started when she left. Daemon reckoned.
All the nightmare began when his living nightmare faded away. Even though Lance found the best food in the area, Daemon could not eat. Blood haunted him. The war hero was frightened of some fragile woman's blood.
Minister Sylvain has found that his tip was false, and she was staying in the academy under the protection of the headmaster, who was a close friend of the duke. The Royal Academy of Arts was not as he assumed it would be. At most, the school lacked red lights.
The blue crowds moved here and there. Barely someone took a glance at the hooded men who looked like merchants. Nobody was suspicious of an assassin or a thief. Some rooms echoed moans while some rooms were drunk. "I would be envious if I were not a knight, sire," Lance spoke when Sylvain went to talk to someone.
"What? As a knight, do you fuck anyone you see?"
