Late at night, Mia retrieved the booklet from the hollow of a dead tree.
She returned to her stall in the stables and made out the numbers by the moonlight.
"Design a plan to entice the target to consume the potion."
The mission was simple.
She had opportunities to get close to Fabian, which was easier than infiltrating a heavily guarded noble's castle.
By the next morning, Mia had an idea.
Mia carried a wooden cup.
The water inside was clear, drawn from the well in the chapel's backyard, a well reserved for the clergy.
She was heading to Fabian's room.
It was the most direct way she could think of to administer the drug.
Under the pretext of delivering water.
The corridor was quiet.
Deacon Philip was polishing the wall sconces.
He saw Mia.
"Stop."
Mia stopped, her body shrinking in on itself as she adopted a subservient posture.
Philip walked over, not looking at her, but staring at the wooden cup in her hand.
