The ground of the Evergreen Vine Corridor inside the Lockshebi Palace gleams like a mirror, intermittently walked upon by monks in red robes, the sound of footsteps fading away; Brand sits on a bench in the inner courtyard, idly fiddling with his attribute menu under the laurel leaves, the light green screen stretching and contracting before him, new windows occasionally popping up from the side; yet no one else can see this curious scene.
Three hours have passed since the thrilling events of the entire morning, and the dust has yet to settle.
