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It was a surprisingly calm day in Amozare. Alessia had seen only two bodies being fished out of the canals that morning, an uncannily low amount. If anything, that spoke only of further dangers to come. Blood would always need to be spilled, it was the lubricant of the wheels in the Great Game. Things were slowing down, and that meant that soon there would be too many corpses to handle in the mornings. Perhaps the Merchant Prince would even see them in the morning, and when that day came, all nine hells would break loose. After a bit more wistful watching, Alessia took a quick swig of rosolio from her flask, appreciating the burn for a brief moment, and began climbing down the cathedral she'd been resting on top of.

As she climbed lower, she found herself in a familiar tree, its tart aroma filling the air. The lemons were in bloom this time of year, and somehow she'd forgotten. Amozare was famous for its lemons, and all manner of lemon products. She smiled slightly to herself as she continued her descent. Tirrenia was, in many ways, not so unlike the lemon trees. It was beautiful, true, and certainly a jewel unlike any other on the planet. Its product was inconspicuous enough, an attractive fruit that burned with an acidity that could not be expected. She frowned, then, as a thought crossed her mind.

If they are the lemons, she thought to herself, then what am I? The insects that ruined the crop? No, that wasn't quite right. She had brought many of them to great fruition, far higher in status than if she had left them on their own. She smiled, then. She was a gardener. Not truly part of the tree, but something outside of it, whose actions could change the course of everything. Nature would always take its charge, after all, and a gardener was no wizard. A tree could live just fine on its own.

So a gardener, then. She laughed to herself, a short chuckle, seen by none. A gardener, how quaint. She was sure the family gardener would laugh at such an idea. No good gardener killed perfectly good fruits simply because they were in the way. The best gardeners would find a way to keep both fruits. So no, a gardener would not do for her either.

She shrugged, leaving the tree behind. Who cared, at the end of the day? Silly analogies had their place in the courts, but here, accompanied by only her own thoughts, she had no time for something so trivial.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

It was a surprisingly calm day in Amozare. Alessia had seen only two bodies being fished out of the canals that morning, an uncannily low amount. If anything, that spoke only of further dangers to come. Blood would always need to be spilled, it was the lubricant of the wheels in the Great Game. Things were slowing down, and that meant that soon there would be too many corpses to handle in the mornings. Perhaps the Merchant Prince would even see them in the morning, and when that day came, all nine hells would break loose. After a bit more wistful watching, Alessia took a quick swig of rosolio from her flask, appreciating the burn for a brief moment, and began climbing down the cathedral she'd been resting on top of.

As she climbed lower, she found herself in a familiar tree, its tart aroma filling the air. The lemons were in bloom this time of year, and somehow she'd forgotten. Amozare was famous for its lemons, and all manner of lemon products. She smiled slightly to herself as she continued her descent. Tirrenia was, in many ways, not so unlike the lemon trees. It was beautiful, true, and certainly a jewel unlike any other on the planet. Its product was inconspicuous enough, an attractive fruit that burned with an acidity that could not be expected. She frowned, then, as a thought crossed her mind.

If they are the lemons, she thought to herself, then what am I? The insects that ruined the crop? No, that wasn't quite right. She had brought many of them to great fruition, far higher in status than if she had left them on their own. She smiled, then. She was a gardener. Not truly part of the tree, but something outside of it, whose actions could change the course of everything. Nature would always take its charge, after all, and a gardener was no wizard. A tree could live just fine on its own.

So a gardener, then. She laughed to herself, a short chuckle, seen by none. A gardener, how quaint. She was sure the family gardener would laugh at such an idea. No good gardener killed perfectly good fruits simply because they were in the way. The best gardeners would find a way to keep both fruits. So no, a gardener would not do for her either.

She shrugged, leaving the tree behind. Who cared, at the end of the day? Silly analogies had their place in the courts, but here, accompanied by only her own thoughts, she had no time for something so trivial.