The raven croaked and stared at Marcy with baleful eyes, waiting for her to remove the narrow, rolled-up strip of parchment tied to its leg.
The priestess frowned at the unexpected messenger, then retrieved the strip and shooed the gruff bird back out the window from whence it had came moments earlier. She walked back to her rickety old desk where she had been contentedly studying her Herbology books before being so rudely interrupted.
"To the Priestess Marceline Linnea Fangmeier, ambassador for Jotun in the Emerald Hills:
Reports show a storm rising in the North. The locals speak of their leader as if he were already king and have been seen burning bright bonfires and gathering in celebration. Priestess, we require fresh information on this leader. His last reign left our forces all but vanquished, we cannot let him drive us back again! For the past several months your ravens to us have come less often and with shorter reports. This...is concerning to us at The Order. If your loyalties remain as pure as the night you took the Oath, you will heed us. Work your magic and obey these orders.
From your peers at The Order"
Marcy leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparked, then became cold as ice. The swirling flurry of thoughts and emotions flew about her mind. First shock, then rage, then...
Nothing.
.
_________________ Marceline Aidan Fangmeier
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