Galavan knocked on the door. When it opened, Ririko had already changed into the black robe.
The fabric was thick, yet surprisingly smooth to the touch, like the fine silk worn by aristocrats in centuries past.
A black veil covered her face, like a thin mist draped over her sultry beauty. Its edges fell below her collarbones and swayed gently as she moved.
Galavan had also changed into a black robe. Standing in the doorway, he gazed at her, and for an instant, his expression froze.
He composed himself before finally saying softly, "Let's go."
Ririko walked past him.
She wanted to get this over with quickly. She couldn't shake the feeling that the last woman to wear these "mourning clothes" was already dead, her resentment clinging to the fabric. It made her skin crawl.
They passed through a long, dim, narrow corridor, pushed open a heavy oak door, and entered a chapel-like inner chamber.
A vaulted ceiling soared overhead. Several iron candleholders hung from the beams, their flames burning quietly.
More than a dozen people stood in the center of the chamber, wearing identical black robes, their veiled faces turned toward Galavan.
Their heads were respectfully bowed, like servants trained into submission, as they silently awaited Galavan's arrival.
When they saw Ririko enter the chamber, a few gazes drifted subtly toward her, carrying a hint of curiosity and surprise at her appearance.
Ririko ignored those looks.
Her attention had been caught by a statue in the very center.
The statue was slightly taller than a real person and wore a full suit of reddish-gold armor. Both hands were raised before it, palms facing upward, holding a longsword flat across them.
Ririko narrowed her eyes and studied the sword for two seconds, taking note of the gemstones on its hilt...