Through the narrow and high window on veranda, the setting sun shone its scarlet light on the floor and imprinted vermilion strips on the wall.
In the whole kingdom, there were only a few places left, where one could still see sunsets, and Port of Clearwater was one of them. It was rumored that the Months of Demons in which heavy snows and storms prevailed had almost no influence on this place. Apart from the fact that Blacksail Fleet couldn't sail forth from the harbor, the whole city was as busy as usual.
The lord of this harbor city, Garcia Wimbledon, was sitting at the table below the window and reading the letter in her hand attentively. Her gray hair had a tinge of gold in the setting sun. And the play of shadow and light on her face made her features even sharper, lending it even more charm and audacity.
Ryan had stood beside her for quite a while.
