98

You're grateful for your melancholic bent, in a way. Since you're never fully satisfied, you're always improving. [+Melancholy]

Timshel lets out a long, shuddering breath, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"We will discuss all in the days to come," he says, looking about a decade older than he did at the night's outset. "In the meantime, be glad that to a soul we 'scaped the whipping post. In time you will learn to count your successes at Court by such a measure."

With that stirring monologue, Timshel dismisses you all to your beds and a calmer morrow—though he briefly takes you by the arm before you depart.

"We would have all been better off had you let me right my own ship at the start, young Bandochel," he says, voice low. "I'll assume your intentions were pure—as a fool's can ever be—but must insist that you control your charitable leanings in the future."

You hang your head a moment, not sure how to respond at the end of so long a day.

He sighs and takes a shameless moment to look you up and down. "A pleasure watching you work tonight."

Aye, indeed, because you have a share in all my success going forward, you respond, thinking glumly behind your smile on the rights you've signed away while a member of his company.

Onward