The wintry air that blew through the Savoyard estate of Candilan penetrated a sullen youth to his core. He mulled over the circumstance of the eve, forlorn and cheerless with but the presence of a tall flagon of sanguine liquor to afford him only fleeting respite from the languish that he found himself mired in. She’s been gone for days.. weeks; Another errand, no doubt, he mused inwardly, a breathless sigh escaping betwixt craggy, dried lips. The man’s gaze fell to the earthenware cup he nursed in his grasp, staring into the crimson substance it bore with an expression reflecting pensive contemplation. He drank himself to bed that night, naught but a lone thought clouding his mind.
