Aron exhaled through his nose, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his carriage. Apparently, what His Grace had told him before he departed for his last diplomatic mission had been true—he was to spend more time among foreign dignitaries than among his own countrymen. Less than three months had passed since his return, and already, he had been sent forth once more.
This time, the task before him was even more delicate. He, like everyone else of importance, knew what had happened with the Voghondai. The priest's death, the riots, and the soon to be religious conflict —none of it had escaped his notice. And now, he was to meet with the High Ecclesiastic Priest of the entire eastern continent, the one man whose word could mean salvation or ruin.
