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.
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