Windbeliever
“Something was wrong. Vitally wrong. This letter, even more formal than the first one, written on Conar’s birthday, had arrived the day before--fourteen months since Conar’s leaving. It gave no indication of how Conar was feeling, what he was doing. It reeked of carefully planned wording, well-thought out descriptions, detached observations. There was no personal messages, no mention of any kind of relationships. Boring stuff that was so unlike Conar McGregor’s normally effusive style of writing... that it was eerie.
“I’m worried,” Shalu Taborn, the King of Necroman, their neighbor to the west said in his gruff bass voice. “I don’t like the way he sounds.”
Grice Wynth nodded. “Nor do I. You were right in calling us together, Legion.”
The acting Regent of Serenia turned to look at his ex-brother-in-law, the Prince of Oceania.
“I had hoped between us we could figure out how things stand.”
“You don’t suppose he’s being held there against his will, do you?” Tyne Brell, the undersized Prince of Chale, a minor principality, asked.MoreLess
“I’m worried,” Shalu Taborn, the King of Necroman, their neighbor to the west said in his gruff bass voice. “I don’t like the way he sounds.”
Grice Wynth nodded. “Nor do I. You were right in calling us together, Legion.”
The acting Regent of Serenia turned to look at his ex-brother-in-law, the Prince of Oceania.
“I had hoped between us we could figure out how things stand.”
“You don’t suppose he’s being held there against his will, do you?” Tyne Brell, the undersized Prince of Chale, a minor principality, asked.MoreLess
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