Alphonse registered how smoother the roads were and glanced out the window. It was better than staring at the duchess growing paler by the hour. The trees broke away to bright sunshine, and Alphonse could just make out the looming walls of the Capital. They had finally arrived.
The duchess cried out in her sleep, and Alphonse felt a cold sweat drip down his back. How many times had she cried out like this now? Yet each time he was transported back to his own nightmare. The nightmares he saw after staining his own hands with blood. The walls of the mansion, that were so magnificent before, were marred with blade marks and too many dark stains to count. Too many sparring partners laying still on the ground.
