"And what justice is conferred on the Pawn placed forward to take the strike waged against a Bishop, even in the game of Chess?"
~
The Physician's Wing of the Imperial Castle,
Kingdom of Tristendyre,
Break of Dawn,
The first Phriday of the Second month,
XXI Year of Regency
Imogen yawned as she stretched. The earliest phases of dawn waited to be spent, before her chores would begin.
It was rather odd that she had seen a vision standing at the summit of the demolished Cross-Fraught, disappearing into the night. She vaguely suspected it to have been a dream, for it looked nebulous, but a sensation stirred within, claiming that it was otherwise; it struck deeply familiar: much like One she saw oft when a patient was heaving their final breath.
