When Twilight City steps into March, it is always veiled in drizzling rain, the sky like a rag that can never be washed clean, pressing down over everyone's mouth and nose.
In the attic of an inn not far from the Central Cathedral, the air is thick with the mold of dampened boards, and there seem to be rats scurrying beneath the floor.
Erin was wrapped in a wool shawl long enough to trail across the ground, curled up in an old wooden chair by the window, her tall, straight back carrying a touch of loneliness.
It wasn't only the "Radiant Knight" that had been trapped by the "Bishop"; the Campbell people's legend was imprisoned as well.
She had been enduring here for almost half a year, and the Judicial Court showed not the slightest sign of leaving. She didn't know how much longer she would have to stay, even less what meaning there was in staying on.
She still remembered that the Northern Relief Army had come to resolve the Chaos Corrosion devouring the Twilight Province.
