Everstar Pavilion.
Northmount clutched the bandage on his neck, feeling a faint twinge for a moment. He took a deep breath and cautiously walked inside.
The light around cast on the pavilion not far away, revealing a blurry yet ethereal figure, with wandering dust floating in the air around him, seemingly an Immortal in a trance.
But to Northmount, the person before him was decidedly not an Immortal; he knew all too well how cruel and cold-blooded the man before him was. His voice trembled uncontrollably as he called out cautiously, "My lord..."
Upon hearing Northmount's voice, Nathan Firth, who was feigning sleep, slowly opened his eyes, but his hand remained in motion.
At this moment, he was gently stroking a gray-white dove on the stone table.
The dove seemed injured, quietly and obediently half-closing its eyes under his touch, like an attachment, or perhaps a languid stupor.
He spoke flatly, "Did you complete what I instructed you?"
Northmount nodded.
"Yes."
