The invitation delivered last night was remarkably simple, especially given the importance of the occasion: Start where it all began. Meet us at the Pig’s Paunch one hour before dawn.
The words Pig's Paunch on the invitation are hastily scratched out, and in terrible handwriting the words Wounded Wisp are written beneath it. Somewhere, a scribe who has dedicated hundreds of hours perfecting his craft of calligraphy groans as his art is so needlessly destroyed.
It's always been the wounded wisp. Even I knew that. If they wanted that on the invitations, they could have just told me. No doubt Valsin is chewing out some poor scribe for making that mistake... wait... What is Valsin doing here? Is he walking to my desk? Uh oh...