The maple leaves in November burned like fire, a crimson so intense it was almost painful, much like the blood-stained gown of Lady Kamo.,He strode in, cast a glance at the child swaddled in cloth. Unlike newborns who cried incessantly from birth, this infant was unnervingly quiet. Under his pale skin, purple veins were visible, making him seem especially fragile.,So even if the commoners had something to report, they would try their best to knock lightly on the door, avoiding waking the fragile young mistress.。