My dear pioneer, you come at a most opportune moment.
Your name rings through these halls, with my master chanting it like a mantra.
There have even been hushed whispers that you have parleyed with the enigmatic leafkin queen…
But don’t misconstrue this curiosity as some backhanded attempt to pry information from you. No, I have stopped you at these gates for a discussion about master Melvien.
You see, his health has been faltering of late.
He has always been the type to throw himself into his work—that much is certain—but the past fortnight, the candles in his quarters have remained lit until the moon begins to set. He has never had such difficulty finding slumber previously.
Come to think, his aberrant schedule commenced not long after the discord that swept the castle gates, when the heads of the Twelve Orders assembled for a colloquy about matters of great import.
His face a ghastly white, the master scurried home and shut himself in for hours. Now it is a chore to get him to consume even the most digestible biscuit or agreeable cup of tea as he sits at his desk consumed in thought.
What could have transpired at the castle to cause such a sudden change?
Read on to learn of the tragedy that befell the grand chancellor as witnessed by the heads of the Twelve Orders.