With morning light bathing both his face and aching body, Lord Wymond opened his eyes to see a sunlit chamber. By noble standards, his current lodging was fitting of his stature, but it was still barely the size of his chamber in the Pope's manor. Nevertheless, such a fact was not the reason for his sour mood. As he winced from the lingering pain in his jaw, memories of yesterday's duel came flooding in at once. By the window, the silhouette of a strange man caught his attention, prompting his vigilance. He tried to search for his weapon and guards, but all for naught as the unknown man spoke.
"Your followers have abandoned and proceeded with their mission without you," said the man, grimacing. "But fret not, you were entrusted in good hands. My name is Night Owl. I belong to the same knightly order of the one who did that to you."
"Who? That wench?" came the resentful reply of the noble.