Tillian stopped his horse before the towering metal gates of the Royal Palace and jumped off the horse. The feeling of the solid, well-tended stone path leading to the gate made him dizzy for a brief second – he was used to the uneven blankets of the northern snow as well as the rough, cracked surfaces of the frozen roads of the lands he called his home.
His red eyes slowly glided over the pristine witness of the King's quarters, surrounded by the tall, green, leafy trees that never wilted even during autumn or winter thanks to the expensive services of the mages who were paid to keep the palace in the perfect condition.
'Everything has to be perfect in the House of Ruan. Even the people. That's why someone as damaged as her couldn't find her place among you.'
