I believe we are not welcome here, my Lord. I do not know exactly what faux pas my predecessor committed that they returned him to us in four pieces, but try as I might to ease tensions, I am met on all sides by suspicion and hostility. I fear this king’s meaningful glares. He asks me cryptic things I cannot answer, and he wonders aloud, afterward, if we shall go to war. I doubt I would be spared in that case, but I shall strive to make the case for your majesty. Unto the end. I count my life cheap in this cause. If I fail, it will be but one death. Many will follow if this madness has its head, and if my life can prevent a needless war, then pray God have mercy on my soul.
A Short, Smuggled, Communiqué
Tale Told 