Point of View of Keith Lacrontte
Being alive doesn't feel like it used to. I don't know how to explain it clearly—on a level that even I don't fully understand now—but I don't feel hunger or pain, and more than once I've tried to feel my own heartbeat and failed.
But that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I'm going to kill my father, the king of Lacrontte. The first step is to reach the capital of Lacrontte incognito because surely, after not finding my body, my face has been circulated among the generals of the kingdom's military orders.
"So, this is what the young vandals everyone's been talking about look like," says a nosy old man next to me.
I remain calm on the stool in the dingy bar I found in this old fishing village. The bar is completely empty on either side of me, presumably because strangers are generally avoided, but this old man doesn't understand that and keeps talking to me as if we're old friends.
