Late at night, at Red Rose Manor.
It was an estate with sprawling grounds, and even its entrance was guarded by two soldiers in white trousers and red military uniforms.
That was because it was a property of the Royal Family, the residence of Prince Edessak Augustus.
It was the dead of night, when no one should have been moving around the estate, yet a figure quietly appeared in the mist illuminated by the gas lamps.
He was a man in his thirties wearing a black trench coat and a white shirt. His hair was cropped short, its color a brownish gold. His dark green eyes resembled a moonless lake at night, and the collars of his shirt and coat were turned up high, hiding his entire chin in shadow.
He raised his head to look at the distant villa, tugged at his red gloves, and said quietly, in a voice only he could hear, "Tonight will be a little busy."
Markot was fast asleep. He was the estate's coachman, and whenever the prince needed to go out, he drove the carriage. He had served the prince for more than ten years and could be said to have watched him grow from a boy into a man.
A knock sounded at the door. Markot woke groggily, got out of bed in a daze, and opened the door to his room.
Strangely, he felt neither resistance nor confusion, even though it was the dead of night and a man with his collar pulled up high was standing outside.
"Good evening, sir. I'm Crestet Cesimir," the man in the black trench coat said politely.
"May I come in?" he asked.
Markot's eyes were unfocused as he replied, as though still dreaming, "Please do."
They sat on the small sofa in the room.