He had always walked this road—between Vine Street and Albert the Pickpocket's café.
Despite the suffocating crowds, he often felt a strange sense of comfort whenever he looked up at the sky from among the people.
It was as though he were gazing through a window…
And he would always linger there, studying the sky through that small window of his.
Eventually, Vierre pushed his way out of the crowd almost unwillingly.
He looked up at the sky that stretched across his entire field of vision, sighed faintly, then continued on his way.
After several dull, lifeless streets, a strange piece of news slipped into his ears…
"The Black Dunes Fortress has fallen!"
He looked at the faces around him and found everyone whispering the same news. Curiosity stirred within him, and he began focusing on the murmurs of the people nearby.
The whispers kept growing, until they sounded like falling rain.
They continued to rise, louder and louder, until someone shouted from somewhere in the distance:
"Death to the Sons of the Black! Death to Al-Sha'eem and Al-Bakeem!"
Suddenly, the rain stopped.
All the clouds turned toward the one who had spoken last…