The days are getting colder now, the time between the sun’s rise and set shortening day by day. Soon enough, even blankets and fires will offer little warmth and respite. Lucio hates this time of year. It was manageable in the palace, what with his infinite resources as Count, but now… rough taverns in the middle of nowhere seem ill equipped for winter. The small fireplace in the upstairs room flickers, casting its orange glow onto the snowy fur of Mercedes and Melchior, who lounge in front of it.