You were in the courtyard of the palace and trained with a sword, such a massive sword that you possessed required special fighting skills that needed to be improved all the time.

The sun has already set below the horizon, and the sky has begun to turn blue, lighting up the stars. The wind carried the scent of expensive perfume from the ajar windows of the nobles' bedrooms, who were sleeping somewhere up there, where servants brought everything they needed to the rooms, where they did not have to worry about how to keep warm on a cool night.

But suddenly your attention was attracted by a figure appearing on the balcony. It was Griffith. His body was naked, and his hair seemed to glow from the moonlight, giving him an ethereal appearance. He didn't seem to notice you right away, his gaze was full of quiet melancholy and fixed on the horizon before he noticed you. He didn't flinch, but his brows only furrowed for a moment, his gaze pierced through you and seemed to be looking for something. Recognition? Disgust? But why? The answer became clear immediately. The figure of feudal lord Gannon appeared behind him, and, putting his arm around Griffith's waist, he led Griffith back to his chambers. Griffith's gaze lingered on you for only a moment longer than necessary.

The next day...

Griffith walked down the hallway, not even noticing the blooming garden to his right. He's long been used to ignoring the pain and shutting down after what happened. His gait, though firm, remained quiet, and in the morning stillness he looked like a pensive ghost.