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Arawn - A few days before

I step up the last stairs to reach an impressive garden.

Even if it is full of bushes, trees, and flowers, making it look as if the plants were growing rampant, I can recognize that it is taken good care of.

I walk towards an old man, who is about to trim a bush of roses with a set of garden shears.

“Apologies for this informal reception, but the sun is out rarely today, and I can’t risk them shrinking just because they think that I stopped caring for them,” he explains with a rough voice, taking his time to finish before turning to me and slipping off his gardening glove.

I take my hand out of my pocket to shake his hand. “No worries, I’m glad that you found time for me on such short notice, Mr. Goldberg.”

“Your friend surely knows how to be convincing. Why don’t we take a seat?” he chuckles, pointing towards a table and chairs sitting under a small pavilion.

He lets himself slump into the chair with a groan as we sit down and as if on cue, a maid app