"Yes," the young man said as he began reading from the book.
They moved through the shadowed streets, the Tower always visible between buildings, no matter which route they took, like the city refused to let anyone forget its center.
Ludwig walked with the steady pace of someone conserving energy, but his eyes were always measuring distances, entrances, guard placements, the open spaces that suggested planned movement of crowds. The guide read while trying not to trip over his own feet.
"The Tower of Trials," he began.
"It was a structure that simply came to be. Not many know of its origin or its source. Nor of its eventual goals. But all everyone knows is, once you go in, you either come back or don't. And you never remember anything, no matter what."
The guide's voice tried to sound official, but a tremor slipped through. Even reading from a book, the words felt like a curse in the mouth.
