In the stables, the early morning mist had not yet completely dissipated.
Old John had just pushed open the wooden door of his dormitory when he saw a squad of Guards marching in formation through the main stable gate.
He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't mistaken. The Guards were fully armed, their expressions solemn.
"What's going on?"
Allen walked over, carrying a bundle of hay. He followed Old John's gaze and froze in surprise.
Duan trotted over from the other end of the stables and said in a low voice, "I just heard from the guy who delivers our meals. The Lord Baron fell gravely ill and passed away last night."
The three of them stared at each other, seeing the shock in one another's eyes.
Old John let out a long sigh and made a gesture as if embracing the stars. "May Oriane guide the Lord Baron's soul..."
Seeing this, Allen and Duan quickly followed suit, making the same prayer gesture and muttering the prayer under their breath.
