The sounds if the heavy winds on stone walls did little to silence the monotonous chanting from the various ganados that lingered about. God it was so annoying, not a moment of peace. But then again when did Leon ever have peace? Not as an agent forced to train or be silenced, not as a rookie cop forced to fight the undead civilians he was meant to protect, not even as a child watching his parents get shot while he hid in a cupboard. No damn peace.

It was grating on him more and more every day. Always worse when that bastard Saddler decided to show up. The itching in his brain, the burning in his nerves, it was pure torture leaving only the option to obey. Obey or what? Leon didn't actually know. Constant torment? Worst case scenario. Best case would be death. Freedom from this cycle of pain. But no amount of lamenting and self pity could fix that, not anymore.

The only task Leon was given was to guard the castle he'd been restricted to. Perhaps that meant he was to commission more traps, more secret passage ways, more convoluted puzzles. Like hell he was doing that. The damn building was a hard enough getting around and he was the one that now lived in it.

Taking a sharp turn Leon's footsteps echoed on the old tile floors before being soften by the carpet on the stairs leading to his private chambers. Aside from his room he only really went a few other places. Unless he was bored, then he'd wander before having to order a ganado to show him the way back. Stupid fucking puzzle doors.

Luckily the dark oak door was thick enough to dampen the sounds outside leaving only the quiet crackling in the fire place. It was a room fit for a king, but really he was nothing more than a glorified slave. Forced to fight once more like some sci fi gladiator. That happened a lot didn't it? What a shitty fate. At least he found solace in an old armchair.

The comfortable cushions were worn but still cradled his sore muscles like it was strand new. Old furniture really was build better huh? Leon let his eyes fall shut.