Grand Ordinator Harven Brightforge had read twelve petitions this morning. Eleven of them had been forgettable — infrastructure requests, temple staffing rotations, a dispute over grazing rights between two abbeys that had been arguing over the same pasture for thirty years. Standard administrative erosion.
The twelfth petition was three pages long and written in handwriting so unsteady it looked like the author had been composing during an earthquake.
He read it twice.
Then he sent for Cardinal Vessen.
