Silman's Lament

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The pages rustled in the night as the cold autumn wind swept through the empty streets. A notice about the attack on the Tosankard mining district three months ago by unidentified bandits fluttered on the bulletin board alongside several wanted posters, tugged by an invisible hand like butterflies flapping their wings. The Militia and Guard Detachment were running wildly through the streets like headless flies. Their chaotic shouts and the shrill whistles rang harshly through the entire town beneath the night sky. At last, the bells atop the central temple's spire began to toll, and the nightmare of midnight terror, like an ominous and fearful portent, suddenly descended over everyone's head. Yet even beneath that panicked atmosphere, someone remained cold and indifferent. Shannali, wearing the uniform of the White Wing Cavalry, stood with his arms folded against the wall outside the town hall, impassively watching a young couple across the street as they prepared to part.

"Loni, take this with you. I heard places like Svenfano are cold. You'll need it." The youth in a Guard Detachment uniform hurriedly stuffed a thick fur coat into the hands of the girl sitting in the carriage. Most of those inside wore gloomy expressions and remained silent. Only the girl was pale as she gripped the young man's hand tightly. "Evan, aren't you coming with us?"

The youth smiled. "Loni, I'm a member of the Guard Detachment. I serve Her Highness the Princess, and I've sworn loyalty to this kingdom and its future king. Protecting this land and everyone here is my duty. Don't be childish. I'll join you soon. Besides—"