A fair-skinned woman walked into the balcony with a frown on her face. "I heard you are preparing to go visit that wretched, cursed place."
Claude turned toward her. "You heard right."
Creases formed on the woman's forehead. "What could possibly be enticing in the small town of a cripple who Baron Tyre has sworn to kill if he somehow escapes death this winter?" The woman almost yelled as she stared at Claude with a red face.
"No beast has been spotted around my domain, and it's the third month of winter. Winter is almost over, and not even a fly came out of the beyond into my territory. Last year, we recorded 100 deaths, and this year, which was supposed to be the worst as proclaimed by the soothsayers, we recorded no death, not even an injury."
Claude averted his eyes from his wife toward the far north. "I have a feeling something has changed."
