Prada got in the castle, and soon was in the dinning room, as if she was drawn to eric. She ran towards eric, and found him lying on the ground poisoned. She fell on the ground and held eric’s head between her arms. “Why did you do it?” Prada asked crying, “You weren’t suppose to drink the poison idiot.” “So you’re Windy? Nice to meet you,” eric chuckled as he breathed his last breaths. “the plan was to kill him,” she pointed at the general, “Why?” eric explained to Prada why he did what he’d done: “he’s my brother, that means we carry the same blood … I figured if-” “But what if it had been from his father, not your mother!” the squirrel butted in, shouting out load. The squirrel didn’t care about that fact that he had just exposed to all about his talking abilities. “I had to take a chance,” eric answered, then explained: “Fontaine fights for our country, what do I do? I drink my nights away, and put others in danger.” He said “I only make bad decisions. It’s time I made a good one …”