Brother Vaelus sat quietly in the common room of Belor’s Beerhall. It was not late, but with the curfew, everyone had left before sunset. He paused in his reading to gaze at the candle flame before him. He sighed, turned a few pages, and began reading again.
“Another book,” Lentius commented as he walked past, pulling on a leather gauntlet. “What is it this time?” He flexed his hand, making sure the glove was tight.
“The Nine Tyrants,” Vaelus replied.
“History?” Lentius asked.
“Ethics,” Vaelus replied, looking up. “When I find myself stirred, I turn to the wisdom of ages past to seek stillness.”
Lentius paused near the door. “Smiling Sen,” he guessed.
“His fate does not sit well with me.”
Lentius nodded and opened the door. “This rebellion is bigger than all of us, and sacrifices have to be made, no matter how we feel. This won’t be the last.” He pulled his hood on and left into the night.
Vaelus closed his eyes for a few moments, then continued reading.