The rain fell without end.
South of Light City, at the Drunken Bear tavern.
The wooden door creaked open, and a cold, rain-laced wind gusted in, making the patrons at the bar shrink their necks.
"Damn this weather." Knight Blake unfastened his soaked cloak and tossed it to his attendant.
He strode to an empty table and sat, the mud from his boots leaving two prints on the floor.
Across from him, a thin, tall Baron was cleaning his nails with a small knife, not bothering to look up.
"Blake, were you out at the barracks again today? See our dear Countess still tormenting those greenhorns?"
Blake took the ale the tavern keeper handed him and downed half the mug.
"Where else would she be? She's there every day. Looks possessed, tsk tsk. Anyone who didn't know better would think she got dumped by that swamp boy and wants to take it out on the soldiers."
The surrounding tables erupted in a roar of laughter.
