The departure from the Crepusci Estate was less of a tactical exit and more of a goth emotional breakdown.
In the courtyard, Silas was trying to walk to the carriage. This was proving difficult because three grey-robed Shadow Servants were currently lying on the ground, clinging to his ankles.
"Please do not leave us, Shadow Master!" one servant wept, clutching a basket of black fruit. "Take the Berries! They are sour like our souls!"
"Let go!" Silas squeaked, trying to shake them off. "I don't like berries! They make my tongue purple!"
"He rejects the berries!" the second servant wailed. "He demands blood sacrifice!"
"No, I don't!" Silas yelled, looking at Lucien for help.
Lucien sighed, adjusting his travel cloak. "They are your cult now, Silas. You must give them a command, or they will follow you to the ocean and drown themselves out of loyalty."
Silas frowned. He puffed out his chest, channeling his inner Duke.
"Sit!" Silas commanded.
