Arthur sat quietly by the window, witnessing the sunset over Old Dunling.
This is a cold city, composed only of steel and congealed cold water. Only at sunset does that fiery curtain of light spill down, warming the icy tone somewhat, though it's merely a fleeting illusion, it brings a sense of comfort.
With a weary sigh, he downed the wine in his glass in one gulp. The past days of toil made his spirit somewhat wan, perhaps he hadn't expected that scheming with these people would be even more exhausting than fighting demons. Though he wished he could shoot Anthony dead, for the sake of benefits, Arthur still had to warmly entertain these visitors from Florence.
Of course, beyond these were even deeper games; the Exiles had already aligned with the Purification Mechanism. Although they were also riddled with doubts, compared to the problems of the Mission, they didn't pose much danger, and now the Mission, that Fr. Anthony, he still wasn't aware of all this.
