It had taken a few minutes, and he’d had to kill… Well, incapacitate
one of his brothers on the way, but the Novice finally got to the Abbot’s quarters.
“Father, there’s-“
The Abbot cut him off with a curt “I am out of ink” without
looking up from his writing.
“But Father, there is this… mist-“
“I am out of ink.” the Abbot repeated. Confused, the Novice
quickly fetched an inkpot.
“Father, a mist is turning-“
“Wrong ink.” said the Abbot as he slapped the inkpot out of
the Novice’s hands and then plunged his quill into the Novice’s throat.
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