The golden hands of the clock face, ticking monotonously towards the hour. There was a doleful tune that chimed forth from the timepiece's pale visage as Cassius dropped the paper he held onto the desk. The letter folded into a black envelope and carried many miles before it had been delivered, the paper recoiled back into itself as it laid solemnly amongst the many others within the office.
Cassius's forehead creasing, he continued to consider the correspondence. Silently contemplating the words he had just read, he deemed himself decidedly impartial towards the news of the King's death. The ruler of Dryden, to be commemorated as a daring leader, who died courageously during battle. He would prevail above that of the many other casualties of war in the stories and paintings that were sure to come of the tiresome conflict. However, it was not so much these sentiments that troubled Cassius as it was the possible repercussions that would surely come of his passing.
