A month had passed since Lucian agreed to attend King Alistair's wedding.
Despite living under the same roof, he and Cynthia rarely crossed paths. Absorbed in their own duties, they neither sought nor expected opportunities to meet alone. Yet, they attended a few banquets together, facing nobles who demanded explanations about the demon's attack at the market—a brutal incident that left several people dead and others grievously injured, some losing limbs and forced to live handicapped.
Restoring order in Erion had been no small struggle, but at last, the scars on the city were slowly beginning to heal along with the reparation of the market.
"Your Highness, are you ready?" Philip knocked at Lucian's door.
The door opened and Lucian stood before the elderly man. He was dressed in a thick dark blue long coat, his hair combed at the top of his head with a few lock hung over his forehead.
"Yes."
