give my gun away when it's loaded is that all right
Preceptor Sparhawk:
It is our hope that this finds you and your family in good health.
A matter of some delicacy has arisen, and we find that your presence is required here in Chyrellos. You are therefore commanded by the Church to proceed forthwith to the Basilica and to present yourself before our throne to receive our further instruction. We know that as a true son of the Church you will not delay. We shall expect your attendance upon us within the week.
Dolmant, Archprelate.
Ehlana slams her fists against the council table with a veritable howl of displeasure as Sparhawk lowers the letter. "You'll hurt your hands," he cautions, as Martel winces at the queen's outburst.
"How dare he? How dare he?"
"A bit abrupt," Stragen agrees, cautious himself.
"You will ignore this churlish command, Sparhawk!"
Martel leans over to Stragen, his expression mild. "Perhaps we owe Platime those crowns, after all."
Stragen snorts behind his hand as the Earl of Lenda intervenes.