"Are you sure about this, Your Highness? This place... doesn't exactly look like a spot for a prince's hobbies."
Cassian, Ayres' personal guard and long-suffering companion, moved nervously.
His hand, by pure instinct, was already resting on the hilt of his sword as they made their way through the twisting alleys of the capital's slums.
Ayres, his youthful face lit up and dismissed his guard's worries with a simple gesture.
"Relax, Cassian, alittle adventure never hurt anyone, besides," he added, "I'm sure you'll find plenty of entertainment around here just try not to get into too much trouble."
He winked at him and kept going deeper into the alley.
He arrived at the address scribbled on the note: a narrow, unassuming door wedged between a filthy tavern and a pawn shop.
A flickering oil lamp cast a sickly yellow glow over the entrance, revealing a symbol crudely painted on the door.
A snake coiled around a skull.
He hesitated for an instant.
