It was in the limited light of foredawn I approached our point of assembly; a place we had convened on many a morning at exactly the same time. As I suspected, our youngest and most flamboyant comrade was already there, waiting upon his favoured perch. As I entered the stone enclosure, he looked up from his journal and lifted a hand to tip his elegant, feathered hat in his usual greeting. His bright blue eyes were vibrant, even now, but he was alone - making us short of one.
Taking my own position to observe the courtyard below, I stood silent for a time as I waited patiently for our lumberjack. The Bard said nothing, respecting my eerie silence as usual and continued to scrawl away with an ornate quill. I knew not what he was writing; only that it had to be one of two things: notations for future reference in our grand endeavour or well-crafted words to describe she who he had enchanted him. It mattered not; we had a specific topic to cover that gloomy morning.
As time passed and daybreak approached, I became more concerned than I’d care to admit. He was never late. As I watched those that began their morning commutes, passing by in the street below, I found my weary eyes scanning the shadow for a familiarly large shape. My search was in vain, at least for a while, only to be rectified by the softly uttered words of greeting that echoed between the fractured walls around us. I turned and the navy-clad Silvertongue looked up to see who we had been waiting for.
For a man so large, his discretion and ability to move almost silently fascinates me. He’s come so far, and I am proud. However, despite his usual mannerisms and monologue, there was something amiss. He seemed agitated, concerned and lost in his thoughts more than ever before. Something weighs heavily on his mind, I simply know not what.
We did as we intended to do. Everyone was up to speed, and those that weren’t present, for whatever reason, would be enlightened in due course. The matter at hand was beyond comprehension, but it needed to be done. Things were becoming increasingly out of hand and a reaction was required. So that is what we will do – under our new leadership and guise.
We three departed separately, as standard and I can only assume our Bear returned to his Owl, whom seems to be the only one to guide him beyond anger into sensibility. The Swan would head West with his Pen and I would head South to close my remaining contracts. From this point on, we must be prepared to act or react at any given time – our other responsibilities are meaningless. This is the calm before the storm.
I hope he might relax, perhaps even enjoy himself a little. Dark times lay both ahead and behind. This cannot be our only respite, surely.
