(In response to "
Correspondance.")
The wax seal of the epistle was swiftly cracked under the dull metal of the Inquisitor’s paperknife. Deft hands unfurled the parchment and eyes set to read the words that were so eloquently set by quill.
After finishing, he put the letter to the desk before him. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin in thought. After a few moments he reached for a blank piece of paper. On it began to write what he was to say on the coming Sunday.