As the Wind Blows

[BDanecker 867]

((Dor Irongut, minus the glasses))

 

       The day knows no difference in the status of men. The mice do not change their ways based on whether or not a distant man becomes a king, or fails as one. But, as Dor Irongut comes back from his urgent trip through Atlas after receiving the word that his seat as Consul of Holm was voted to another, he learns that men are not like the day. As he enters the city, Dor looks bewildered at the townsfolk and nobility alike, at the change of tone, the lessening of cordiality, and the dropping of respect from those who once venerated him as their Consul. He slowly walks up to the senate chambers, in which all of Holm's politics take place, and terses the side of his mouth, saying whilst shaking his head, "Well, at least ah've learned wot men are capable ove eh?" He gives a short chuckle and wraps his robes tighter around himself in the breeze cutting through the Silver Hills. Dor thought to himself as he walked, thinking about how he was shocked the most at the change of character of those close to him, even those of his council, all in the name of the beast who calls itself Politics. Never did his ears hear the complaints, never did he receive reproach, but was plotted behind, with a support prior to the most recent election of a majority vote, to a support of no more than two votes. As so with that, Dor thinks to himself,  he had learned all that he had come out of his hermit lifestyle of mining in deep caves for; his endeavor to learn about the bounty men stored in the form of relationships had come to fruition, and it was something he had gambled in coming to Holm, and he had lost. He tread down the cold stone stairs that led down from the senate chambers and up to his home in the Cloud District, opening his door to be greeted by the residential cat, rubbing it's head against Dor's legs, just as it did when he was Consul. Dor digs hurriedly in his oak chest, looking for and finding his sapphire, and clutches it close to his heart, stepping back to his table, taking a heavy seat in his chair, it creaking under his weight. Grabbing his silver goblet, he takes a long drink of his rich wine and leans back against the cracked stone brick wall, looking through the grated window overlooking the wooded valley below him, and sighs, content. He falls asleep, and wakes hours later, ready to find the riches he searches for, elsewhere.

[DahStalker 3692]

Allen claps