The Scrying Room
Once upon a time, ministers of Empire gathered in the Scrying Room to oversee the distant assassination of an enemy of the State. The Scrying Room’s big crystal ball showed the progress of the mission.
The room was crowded. A Knight in Armor frowned, as did a Spymaster in Silk. A Paladin pursed his lips; a Jester grinned; his companion (secretly an Angel) frowned. The Minister of State was nauseous, the Vice-Minister was dubious, the Prime Minister was enraged.
Of all the crowd in the Scrying Room, all but one was tense. The Wizard sat in the center of the crowd, manipulating a seeing-stone. He was calm, he wasn’t worried, he wasn’t scared; for he had work to do. Though deep within the hell of war, the Wizard was at peace.
Moral: The busy bee has no time for sorrow.