Corraidhìn stood in the shadows on a balcony overlooking King Razhard's throne room. He had just barely been able to sneak this far into his palace, causing the deaths of several guards in the process. Unfortunately, the building was like a labyrinth. He had gotten lost numerous times as he searched for the room with the documents he needed inside. He needed to know when the best time to strike Windgrace, and the only way to know for sure would be to when Windgrace would be most vulnerable, and who would no such a thing better than King Razhard himself. He had accidentally wandered into the throne room. Definitely not where he wanted to be. He would have made his way out as quickly as possible, but he saw something odd happening in the room. He spotted three women and a man, all weapons drawn toward one man dressed black as night, an evil grin on his face. Suddenly, an awful, impossible, idea swept across him. Suddenly he drew his mace, and flicked open his magic book with his other hand. He leaped down from the balcony and landed facing the man in black, ready to fight.