In the drawer, there was paper. Last night, I didn't tear it. I didn't burn it. Gaius's words, the atmosphere of the council chamber, the back of my own figure reflected in the Foresword—the parchment on which I'd written all of it still breathed at the bottom of the drawer. I confirmed it was there, then rested my cheek on my hand at the desk. Outside the window, it was still dim. From the direction of the Silent Treewood—the vast broadleaf forest spreading west of the fortress—morning mist seemed to be drifting in. Alright. Today, I'll think through everything properly. The moment I thought that. CRASH!!!! A tremendous sound echoed from the hallway. Followed by the rustling of papers. Pasa-pasa-pasa-pasa—that distinctive sound of many papers scattering all at once. "Oh—" a young soldier said. "'Oh' my ass!!!!" the supply officer barked. I lifted my cheek from my hand. I had a pretty good idea what had happened. Peering into the hallway, I saw a young soldier—one of the new r