A late winter day, the cold wind howled.
This was yet another normal winter in the Leonais Duchy, dark and cold outside. At night, no one dared to leave the village; the town walls made of fences were the only defense for the peasants. When darkness fell, bandits, robbers, vampire creatures, and beastmen roamed the wild, searching for their prey.
Inside, the fire in the stove hadn't extinguished; hot water was boiling inside and the floor was swept very clean. An elderly mother was diligently mending clothes, doing needlework.
She frequently cast worried and reproachful glances at the child lying on the yellow linen bed; the child knew he had done wrong. He hung his head low, not saying anything.
This was her youngest son. Her husband had died in the Knightly War five years ago.
