Even in the most bustling of worlds, there exists a quiet corner.
In the little room, the merchant lady leaned her chin on her hands at the edge of the wooden bed, her eyes curiously darting around and occasionally poking at the apparently asleep nun princess with her finger.
"Antitina, how can Miss Magdal be a puppet? Look at her skin, so soft and fun to play with... She's also so beautiful, surely Brand is lying?"
The staff lady sighed. Those familiar with Little Roman would know the emphasis in her sentence was on 'fun to play with,' rather than the latter part. Antitina held a copy of "Rocky Poetry Collection," but her mind was not on it; it had long flown to the rain, to the battlefield.
The gleam of swords, the shadows of blades, the fighting sides, all marked in the history of this port. However, the sunrise the next day will ultimately shine upon one side.
Can we really win?
