That night the usually bustling city of Ilyndor was silenced under a self-induced curfew. The streets were deserted, the shutters and curtains of the houses drawn tight, and the inns and taverns that ran deep into the night, often until dawn, stood dark and barred. There was not a single person in sight. Even the thieves and cutthroats that conducted their trade in the dark alleys of the lesser visited quarters of the capital seemed to have taken a night off.
It was only hours that the King's declaration had been announced, but the city already felt like it was in mourning. The mouths that were speculating about poisoned ales just a day before, satisfied to find a reason for their illnesses, relieved to at least have something to blame their misery on, now were sealed shut by the fear of speaking against the royal order.
