In the heart of the royal capital of Vanadias, the air was unusually tensed. A small but troubling incident had stirred whispers across the palace, and Ernest moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors of the underground prison. His strides were long, impatient. He had woken to alarming news, and he would see for himself whether it was true.
The damp, cold air of the prison clung to his skin as he passed cells where criminals and war prisoners muttered behind iron bars. But his destination was far more important — the cell of Klorentor, the Blood Lord he himself had captured after the attack in the castle.
"Here, Your Highness!" One of the knights posted at the far end called out, stepping aside and pointing toward a heavy-barred cell.
Ernest quickened his pace and peered inside.
