At the sovereign's question, Aron didn't speak immediately. He began to shuffle through a separate, thicker stack of vellum, his movements buying him time on how to best present it . A full minute passed in a silence so heavy that a dark thought began to drift through Alpheo's mind: Just how much has the world burned while I was looking the other way?
"Your Grace..." Aron began, his tone dipping into a register of cautious formality that Alpheo knew all too well. It was the voice of a man preparing to deliver a blow to the ribs.
"Yes?"
"Would you prefer the abbreviated summary, or the exhaustive ledger?"
"Somehow, I suspect I shall find no comfort in either," Alpheo sighed, shifting in his seat and bracing himself to swallow the sour pill. "The short one, Aron. "
