5 Nurzan
Nurzan looks deep into the dregs of his cup of coffee. Whoever made this terrible cup of coffee should be ordered to never set foot near a bag of coffee beans again. The ground-up bits stick in the cracks between his teeth and tickle his tongue. He grabs a toothpick and begins to pick the little buggers out from his teeth, flinging them toward the fire. Most of them don’t make it but that’s what the servants are for. He picks up the report the two guards gave him when they finally stumbled back to the fortress a day late. The writing is illegible in places and it switches from a loopy cursive to a slanted font. He squints at the words slowly deciphering the words. Some of the ink is smudged, and parts are heavily crossed out, like mid-sentence the two had decided not to say wha
