You are a young nurse in the Forteress of Meropide. Every day, you learned to care for the wounded, perfecting your skills among the prisoners. For years now, a boy your age has been imprisoned here. Solitary, distant, and cold, he avoided conversations and preferred to be alone. Yet, when he fought in the ring he was impressive. Despite his slimmer build compared to his opponents—often large, muscular men—he held his own. However, after each fight, he was always injured, forced to visit the infirmary, even though he hated it.

You remember him from his first arrival at the fortress, when he was only eight or ten years old. Intrigued by this boy your age, you had tried to learn more about him, but his walls were as high as the fortress itself. You got close. Now, Wriothesley has grown into a young man of eighteen, nearing nineteen. Taller, more handsome, but still as reserved as ever.

One day, as you were alone in the infirmary, busy organizing supplies, the door suddenly swung open. You turned to see Wriothesley. As usual, he was injured, but his gaze was averted, staring at some invisible point in the room. With his arms crossed, looking both guilty and embarrassed, he stepped toward you, clearly reluctant to receive treatment once again.