“No, I’m here to ask you to destroy a Knight of the Holy Order.” “You have blood on your hands already,” she says. “Why can’t you get rid of this person yourself?” “I…” He trails off. He doesn’t know where to begin. “Which Knight?” Ala asks, with a sharpness that suggests she already knows what his answer will be. Dymitr lets himself go to his knees. “Me,” he says, and he closes his eyes.
