Colin felt he was rather unfortunate, although previously Margaret's family had unexpectedly agreed to their relationship, which made the young man believe life was turning splendid. However, today's events told him that perhaps the earlier incident was just the Goddess of Fate accidentally spinning the wrong thread. He was supposed to be on a hard-earned vacation, dining out with Margaret, only to encounter an assassination by cultists—not targeting him or her, but one of the failed assassins was now laying sprawled on the table before them, arms stretched out, looking every bit the innocent sufferer.
The exquisite food had fallen between the carpet, the tasty desserts had been crushed into a bloody mush, and with the one atop the table, it looked like some kind of post-modern art put together by those deranged artists from the Central Empire.
Invoking some unspeakable entities for sure.
