Jon Connington took one last look at the body as the soldiers hastily wrapped it in heavy canvas and carried it away.
The canvas was coarse, the outline of a human figure faintly visible beneath it.
The soldiers were hardly gentle, but at a time like this, perhaps that was dignity enough.
He stood where he was as the wind swept the lingering smell of burning and the faintest trace of blood through the courtyard and against his face, cold and real.
He shed no more tears and made no sound.
Only his straight back seemed to bear a little more weight.
Jon Connington drew a deep breath, expelled the last stale remnant of the past from his lungs, then turned and followed the black-clad figure who had already walked a few steps ahead.
His footsteps were heavy, the sound of his boots striking the flagstones unusually clear in the empty corridor.
The study in the Governor's Palace occupied the third floor of the Main Building. It was well lit, with tall, stained-glass arched windows on two sides.
Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting colorful yet cold patterns across the Myrish carpet.
The room was large. A huge Oak Bookshelf rose to the ceiling along one side, packed with leather-bound books and scrolls, while a large map of Lys and the surrounding seas hung on the opposite wall.
A broad Ebony Desk stood in the center. Its surface was tidy and bare save for a Brass Lamp, a quill resting in an inkpot, and several unfolded letters.
Aegon did not sit in the Governor's high-backed chair behind the desk.
He went to the window with his back to the door and gazed through the stained glass at the city below, which was slowly returning to life. Sunlight outlined his