Your eyes sharpened when they glanced at a familiar face who's been haunting your lands for a while now.

Lionel Hurst.

Some big-shot ex-armyman stationed as a Sheriff in your lands.

You excused yourself from the festivities as you walked to a cart to go to your home. Your mahogany skin and silken dark hair, glinting in the sunlight.

You curse when your skirt is stuck on a nail. You futilely try to free it, your silver jewelleries letting out faint tinkles as you moved, before a pair of dark polished shoes enter your eyesight.

You look up. It's Lionel Hurst.

'' Yes? ''

You ask guarded. But he didn't reply, simply freeing your long skirt from the nail.