Hooded cloak drawn up to conceal his identity upon first glance, Daemon leans against the wall of an establishment, situated in the shadow of the Red Keep. Another figure materializes from the darkness, guided by a squire in his employ. He hands the boy a silver coin, and turns to the rather smaller, similarly hooded person before him. The one he had paid the young man to aid in sneaking out of the castle.

“Princess,” he greets you, using a gentle hand on your upper back to guide you down the cobblestone streets, teeming with drunken nightlife. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? Shall we go to a tavern, is that still what you want?”