[The Brass Isle has been waging war on the continent for a century. He had watched it from the security of lovely drawing rooms and prettily appointed bed chambers, from private boxes in playhouses and from the row of little gilt chairs in the high gallery above the House of Lords which were not given to magicians but had certainly assumed by them. And for a time, he'd seen it also while he'd slept and dreamed as if falling into unconsciousness were akin to the act of leaving a beautiful apartment and then turning to spy through the keyholes of all the neighboring doors.
Avarice comes in every shape.]
No. That seems to be an entirely universal impulse.
[Ralston's smile is not strictly unpleasant, only half formed. It's all teeth and a secret (or at least selfish and unshared) kind of humor.]
Why, I believe I've even seen traces of it here in this very castle.
[Shocking, I know, says his playful sidelong look and the idle rotation of the cane between his fingers. Speaking here as stolen artifacts—]
no subject
Avarice comes in every shape.]
No. That seems to be an entirely universal impulse.
[Ralston's smile is not strictly unpleasant, only half formed. It's all teeth and a secret (or at least selfish and unshared) kind of humor.]
Why, I believe I've even seen traces of it here in this very castle.
[Shocking, I know, says his playful sidelong look and the idle rotation of the cane between his fingers. Speaking here as stolen artifacts—]