Quoted By:
<span class="mu-i">The office’s lights are dim in the early afternoon. The 10th of Mars, 1490. In your mind are two worries. Your father is aging. He’s worked tirelessly as the head of House Cecil all his life. Transforming the meager lands into a hub for the foreseen future where arts and literature thrive to further connect people to places far and wide, securing a higher position in royal court as an arts treasurer along the way. In that time, he and his wife only birthed two children. Your mother died as you came into life. He’s been balancing his need to give you a life of agency with his need to secure an heir for the house ever since.
His letter was brief, and tonally grave. You expected Milo and Metzen to arrive, and for father to be in a bed tended to by doctors and clergymen. Fortunately, Micah Cecil is still in good health, though not in high spirits.
Milo and your uncle? Nowhere to be found.
Your father was looking north. You could tell by the way the sun was playing shadow games on his face through the window. It was like he was staring directly at your destination.
<—>CONTINUED<—></span>
