"And in all our age, we are spectators imbibing stories of all things that dance about our life and surveillance and judgement. They may be deals made in the deep mines of darkness, promises made under the fair day's skies, tears cried in the most secret moments of despair, death massacring a Kingdom in the pangs of a Dragon Raid.
But in the end of breath, with hindsight, when we turn to consider the various stories we have amassed, how many are truly pure and untouched by treachery and schemes? And what is the answer to bewilderment if each of these incidents were connected through underlying chords of lies and deceit?"
~
Bureau of the Zephanian Arch-Eccleissor,
Auxiliary to the Imperial Castle,
Kingdom of Tristendyre,
The first Phrinight of the Second month,
XXI Year of Regency
Devland scurried into his Office with Caleb, his son, following close behind.
The chamber was cold and dark and the man was lost in a stampeding melee of thoughts.
