Percival (Light)/Lore

Official Profile

Background

Percival was born to Herzeloyde and Ghamuret, both aristocrats of the House of Wales, along with two older brothers, Aglovale and Lamorak. Sharing a healthy competition with his brothers and having loving parents made for a happy childhood. It was from Herzeloyde that Percival learned to be kind and offer help to those in need.

At some point, a war broke out between two countries neighboring Percival’s home. Refugees came to Wales and the noble family offered them as much help as possible. Soon, the war worsened and trouble spilt into areas of Wales. During this time, Percival, his brothers, and his mother were travelling in a carriage when it was attacked by a pair that had been some of the refugees they had aided. His mother was killed when the carriage was flipped on its side, asking Percival to not hold grudges with the last of her strength. Her parting words were that she loved Percival and his brothers.

Years later, Aglovale inherited lordship of Wales and Lamorak became a talented wandering sorcerer, leaving Percival to follow an ancient custom of his House. Percival traveled to the Kingdom of Feendrache to become a knight. He eventually took the rank of co-deputy commander alongside his rival, Lancelot, under their leader, Siegfried.

Then, the King was murdered and the culprit was believed to be Siegfried. When his once trusted commander fled, Percival struggled with his beliefs. Though he did stay to see his order of knights reformed, Percival left once Lancelot was promoted to commander. The now former knight began to travel, learning about how a country should be run. He does so in the hope of creating his own, where even the most vulnerable people can live in peace and prosperity.

Events

• Four Knights of a Fallen Land
• A Slice of Summer
• Between Frost and Flame
• A Granblue Carol
• The Other Side of the Sky
• Welcome to Bistro Feendrache
• SIEGFRIED

Trivia

Special Cutscenes

Spoiler Alert! These tabs contain special event cutscene scripts. View these tabs at your own discretion.

Happy Birthday Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

Happy New Year Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

Valentine's Day Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

White Day Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

Trick or Treat Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

Happy Holidays Cutscenes
#	Link	Text
1	✖Cutscene link missing. Please add links to the character's lore page.

Fate Episodes

Spoiler Alert! These tabs contain full Fate Episode cutscene scripts with major spoilers about the character. View these tabs at your own discretion.

Homecoming[edit]

Percival, (Captain), and company return to Wales, where it is determined that they all shall attend a ceremony in honor of Aglovale's coronation. New regalia is made for Percival under the direction of Tor, the king's new retainer.

---

It is a fair day, and Percival stands quiet on the deck of the Grandcypher. In his hand is a letter, come from the royal House of Wales.

Aglovale not in crew

---

The message is written in a clear and graceful script. Percival recognizes it as the hand of his brother Aglovale, King of Wales.

Percival: Hm...

As he pores over its contents, (Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn pass before him.

Vyrn: Hey, Sir Burnsalot. Why the long face?

Percival: I have here a letter from Aglovale. He calls for my return.

Lyria: Oh no. Do you think something's happened?

Percival: It's hard to say—the letter is brief. In any case, it seems we must part ways for a while.

1. Bring me along.
2. Take care!

Choose: Bring me along.

Percival: What? I don't think it necessary, but should you insist...

Vyrn: Yeah, come on! We haven't been getting any missions, and I'm bored outta my mind! Take us sightseeing, won't you?

Lyria: Vyrn! You can't say you want to go just because you're bored. That's rude!

Percival: Hah. Very well. It's your time—do with it what you will.

Go to "Continue 1"

Choose: Take care!

Percival: Of course. And I trust you'll look after the crew in my absence.

Lyria: Um... I don't think (Captain)'s being very honest...

Vyrn: Heh! You wanna go, don't you, (Captain)? It's written all over your face!

Percival: Hm? Then why the ruse? Come, if you so wish.

(Captain) accepts the invitation gratefully.

Continue 1

Thus, the crew journeys to the land of Wales.

The sun is high overhead when they enter Percival's ancestral home. Passing through a high and glimmering hall, they come into the throne room.

Percival: I've returned, Aglovale.

Aglovale: Percival. Well met. Ah, I see you are accompanied by (Captain) and company.

Vyrn: Yep! We're here on vacation!

Lyria: I hope you don't mind, Aglovale!

Aglovale: Hah. I bid you welcome. Rest here in Wales for as long as your heart desires.

(Captain) bows before Aglovale, then offers a few words of gratitude.

Percival: Now tell me, why have you called me home?

Aglovale: In a few days, we shall hold a ceremony to honor the anniversary of my coronation. It will be a magnificent affair, and by it we mean to enhance the prestige of our land.

Aglovale: It is my wish that my brother attend. Percival, what say you?

At these last words, a soft light comes into Percival's keen eyes.

Percival: Yes. Of course I will attend.

Percival: It is a joyous occasion. How could I refuse?

Aglovale: Good! Truly your answer gladdens me.

Smiling, Aglovale then looks upon (Captain) and the others.

Aglovale: And (Captain). Surely it was good fortune that brought you here. Would it please you and your companions to join the celebrations?

Lyria: What? We wouldn't be intruding?

Aglovale: No. Is there not great friendship between us? Come now. Throw away your courtesy.

Vyrn: Well, then don't mind if I do!

Lyria: Um, I'd like to take part as well! (I wonder if there'll be delicious food...)

Percival: Well, (Captain)? My brother is eager that you attend. If time allows, won't you rest awhile in Wales?

The captain, seeing how the others wish to go, assents at last.

Aglovale: It is decided then. You all shall come.

Aglovale smiles again, seeming much pleased. Then, visited by a sudden realization, he turns and looks sharply at Percival.

Aglovale: Ah, yes. Percival. Have you raiment for the ceremony?

Percival: In my wardrobe, there is regalia I wore in the past. Will it suffice?

Aglovale: Hm... Perhaps. But it is long indeed since we had such merrymaking. I should feel happier to see you in clothes freshly tailored.

Aglovale: Tor!

Tor: Here, my lord.

From the shadows, a retainer steps forth.

Aglovale: My brother is in need of attire for the ceremony. See to it that preparations are made.

Tor: I will, my lord.

Tor bows low, first to Aglovale, next to the crew. Then quietly, he passes from the room.

Percival: Who was that? I've never seen him before.

Aglovale: He is called Tor. The man is of humble birth; yet I brought him into my retinue, for he showed great promise.

Aglovale: He is but recently come to this castle, and already I can attest to his skill.

At length, Tor returns and behind him is a large and motley crowd.

Tor: I have returned. And I beg pardon, my lord—I didn't mean to take so long.

Overwhelmed Tailor: Can you believe it? Me! Tailoring for the king's brother! Oh, it's truly an honor, sir.

Ecstatic Tailor: Now, what shall we dress you in? Do take a look, sir—we've only the best textiles.

Aglovale: He has brought with him every tailor for miles round! Hah. What an interesting fellow.

Aglovale: Come, Percival. Let us find stuff fit for a lord.

Percival: As you wish.

Percival holds before him bolts of many hues—and woven of various threads, so that some have the glimmer of rippling lakes and others the richness of living bark.

Percival: Brother. What do you think?

Aglovale: Hm... The colors are simple and pleasing to the eye. But they are more suited to discussing grave matters of state, I think, and not to feasting and merrymaking.

Percival: Yes... The pattern may indeed be plain.

Percival: Then, perhaps one more bold...

Aglovale: Hm... The pattern is intricate and the hue festive. But it is garish. Such attire is often worn by men given much to pretention—and not enough to taste.

Percival: Then it would reflect poorly on Wales, were I to wear this.

Percival: Aglovale! What do you say now?

Aglovale: Ah. You have paired together cloths crimson and white... a hue noble and fearless on the one hand, and pure and gentle on the other.

Aglovale: It is a kingly union. Shall we proceed with these colors?

Percival: Yes. I, too, thought they were fair.

Tor: Tailors! The cloth has been chosen. Now take up your pens and draft your designs.

Tailors: At once!

The tailors bend over their parchment, and the hall is filled with a great scratching of nibs.

The finished sketches are brought to Tor, who unveils the best before the king. Aglovale sits impassive on his throne, until one at last kindles a light in his eye.

Aglovale: Ah, here is a most noble design. On the cloth, there will be set a tracery of gold.

Aglovale: About the shoulders, a cloak will hang and rise like wings on the breeze. Whoever wears this shall cut a striking figure indeed.

Aglovale: Yes... Percival, you must don this at the ceremony!

Percival: I will wear it with pride. Thank you, Brother.

Tor: Then I shall have the tailors prepare their needles.

(Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn, who stand nearby, look at each other and laugh.

Vyrn: Man... I thought he wasn't ever gonna decide.

Lyria: Hehe. But didn't it look like they were having fun?

(Captain) smiles, glad that Percival can once again share with his brother warmth and joy.

So it is that the first day of Percival's homecoming is crowned with a gift.

A Much-Expected Ceremony[edit]

The crew offer their services to Aglovale, but the king sends them off to aid Tor, whom he has placed in charge of preparations for the ceremony. Percival, amazed by his brother's trust in the new retainer, decides to judge Tor's worth for himself.

---

Days pass, and the castle begins to buzz with activity. Seeing this, (Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn grow restless and with Percival visit the throne room.

Percival: Brother. The ceremony draws near and still we are idle. Is there nothing you would ask of us?

Vyrn: Yeah! We aren't ones for lazing around all day—'specially not on someone else's couch!

Lyria: You've treated us to so much delicious food... We want to do something in return!

1. Do you have any missions?
2. He who does not work...

Choose: Do you have any missions?

Aglovale: Hah. A truer skyfarer I never met. Yet even those whose lot it is to wander must, for a while, lay aside their burdens and rest.

Go to "Continue 1"

Choose: He who does not work...

Aglovale: Neither shall he eat. Maybe.

Aglovale: But you have done Wales a great service. Were I to lay all the bounty of our land before you, I could not repay this debt.

Continue 1

Aglovale: Still, you are resolved to work, in spite of my words.

Aglovale: Tor is in charge of planning the ceremony. Go and speak to him, if you wish.

Percival: We will.

Percival: (Aglovale holds this "Tor" in high esteem...)

Percival: (He has a keen eye, and I don't mean to doubt where he trusts.)

Percival: (But Tor is to serve my brother and my homeland. How worthy a man is he? I will see and judge for myself.)

Aglovale: Percival? Why do you stand there in silence? Have you more to say?

Percival: No. I was only... thinking.

Aglovale: Go then. I, too, must be on my way.

Percival: Very well.

Percival leads his companions from the throne room. They stride down a wide passage and come to the door of Tor's office.

Percival: It's Percival. May I enter?

Tor: By all means, sir. Come in.

They are let into a large chamber. It is awash with light. Men and women of different trades pass to and fro, preparing for the ceremony.

Florist: Sir! How's this for decorating the great hall?

Tor: More flowers. Much more. The great hall is where we receive our guests—it must be the most lavish.

Carpenter: Can I put these planks in the courtyard, sir?

Tor: We shan't need them till later. Lay the planks in the storehouse, where they won't get in the way.

Tor sits at his desk, before which a line has formed. In a confident voice, he replies to inquiries one by one.

Percival: (Hm... His directions are clear, and his advice is good. He has talent as a steward—I see why he has proved useful to my brother.)

When at last the crowd has taken leave, Tor turns to the crew and bows.

Tor: I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't think it would take so long.

Percival: Not at all. I am sorry for the sudden visit.

Tor: Now then. Is there something I can do for you?

Percival: No. Rather, we came to offer our help.

Vyrn: Yeah! We wanna make the ceremony a success!

Lyria: Please, ask us anything!

Stepping forward, (Captain) urges Tor to accept the crew's assistance.

Tor: I thank you then, for how am I to refuse this good will?

Tor: First, I have for the young lord a list of guests and provisions for the feast. Might I ask you to look over it?

Percival: Of course.

Tor: As for the captain...

Tor: Here is a catalog of materials. Could you go to the storerooms and see if everything is there?

Lyria: Yes! No problem at all!

Vyrn: Well, we better skedaddle!

Thus, Percival, (Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn busy themselves with preparations for the long-awaited day.

A Much-Expected Ceremony: Scene 2[edit]

Working alongside Tor, Percival quickly recognizes the talents of the young man, who was once a merchant. The lord concludes that his doubts were unfounded and, with (Captain) and company, leaves the castle on a short quest to drive all monsters from the land of Wales.

---

With (Captain) and the others off to the storerooms, Percival sits alone. He reads through the list of guests and food, occasionally pausing to make notes. At length, he looks up.

Percival: Some of our guests are demanding, and I've changed the menu to suit their tastes. I have also chosen new drink to pair with the food.

Tor: Why, you could see through a suit of armor, sir! I would not have noticed such a thing.

Percival: It was merely a matter of experience.

Tor: Ah, but experience in itself has little value. It's how you use it that matters.

Percival: Yet the years can teach what the days never knew. You will be a good leader in time, Tor.

Tor: Thank you. But... I am not used to such praise.

Tor blushes and ducks his face.

Tor: Er... Sir. I would like to ask you about the placement of the guards, if you're willing.

Percival: Certainly. Let's have a look.

Tor opens a drawer and pulls out a chart of the castle. On it are marks, indicating where wardens are to be stationed.

Percival: Hm... I think well of this plan. But I should also mark down escape routes. Post guards along them, and they can order an evacuation, should the need arise.

Tor: I see... Yes, I must remember this.

Percival: Next, there are many blind spots within the castle walls. We must cover these, as best we can.

Tor: Then shall I increase the guards here?

Percival: Yes... That will do.

The men are cold and formal at first. But as they plan and speak of the upcoming festivities, a warmth comes slowly into their voices.

Their business finished, the topic turns and they begin to speak of themselves.

Tor: You are as great a lord as your brother, sir. Though I've heard tell of your wisdom, there's no tale in all the land that does you justice.

Tor: I could never thank you as I should—for your words and all that you have taught me.

Percival: Hah. I merely gave you good advice. Do not place so high a price on so small a gift.

Percival smiles, but soon after his gaze grows stern again.

Percival: Tell me, how did you come to serve my brother?

Tor: Well... I am from a merchant family, come recently to Wales.

Tor: We have a small shop in town. There, sir, is where I first met the king.

Percival: And where you first sharpened your skills, it seems. It is no easy feat to oversee a shop.

Tor: You give me too much credit.

Percival: I give credit where it's due. Tor, I trust you will serve my brother well.

Tor: I'll do my best.

Percival: (I have spoken long to Tor, and he has proved clever and faithful. Were my doubts ill-founded?)

At that moment, there comes a knock on the door. (Captain) enters, with Lyria and Vyrn in tow.

Vyrn: Phew... I thought we were gonna be counting planks and bricks 'til the cows came home!

Lyria: But we finished in the end! Everything was there, Tor!

Tor: Thank you for your help, truly.

Losing no time, (Captain) asks for the next task.

Tor: Hehe...

Percival: What is it?

Tor: Er... The king once said of this crew, "They will concern themselves with any business, no matter if it belongs to them or not."

Tor: I thought it an exaggeration... But now I see he spoke the truth.

Vyrn: So what! You saying we should keep our snouts to ourselves?

Tor: Not at all! I apologize if I've offended you.

Tor: But that wasn't a laugh to scorn. I—how can I put this? I was moved by your kindness, and the happiness simply... spilled out.

He smiles warmly at the crew, and they smile in return.

They fall again to preparations. The work marches along quickly, and soon there are only a few loose ends left to tie up.

Tor: You have all been a great help, really.

Tor: But please, allow me to attend to what's left. Rest now, I beg you.

Percival: Not yet. There's one more task we must see to.

Tor: What would that be, sir?

Percival: We must drive all monsters from our lands—and thus secure the safety of our guests.

Vyrn: Monster bashing! Sounds like our area of expertise!

Tor: But how could I entrust to you such a dangerous mission?

Lyria: We'll be fine, I promise!

Percival: (Captain). Will you come with me?

(Captain) meets Percival's eyes and nods in answer.

Tor: Any business indeed! But I thank you—for this and for all of your kindness.

Tor: I would go with you, but my work will keep me at the castle for a while. Please, be very careful.

The crew takes leave of Tor. The next day, they rise when the light of dawn is yet soft and grey. Percival and (Captain) gird themselves and, with Lyria and Vyrn, leave the castle.

A Much-Expected Ceremony: Scene 3[edit]

The day of the ceremony dawns, and Percival and Aglovale, clad in splendorous regalia, address their subjects from the rampart of Wales. But even as the people cheer, the two men speak to each other of their regret at the absence of Lamorak, the second of the three brothers.

---

At last, the day of the ceremony dawns. The clouds part, festoons dance, and flags wave proudly in the breeze.

Tor: Wind of Wales! Forward march!

Tor stands at the head of a drum corps. As they walk beneath the great blue sky, sunbeams hit their instruments and spark like fireworks.

A fanfare plays. The crowd parts. On two noble steeds, the brothers ride, side by side. The white on their regalia gleams like new-fallen snow, but brighter still is the light in their eyes.

Aglovale: ...

Percival: ...

Excitable Citizen: Look! It's King Aglovale! And Lord Percival!

Gentle Citizen: The young lord's returned? My! How he's grown! He's so regal!

Most of the inhabitants of Wales are gathered in the streets to watch the parade. Others lean from balconies or hang out of windows.

Lyria: Wow! They're so popular!

Vyrn: Yeah! Man, it's times like this I remember they're the biggest cheese in the pantry!

(Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn stand smiling amidst the crowd.

Excitable Citizen: I can hardly believe it. I saw both brothers! In the flesh! I-I'm so happy to be alive!

Gentle Citizen: There's a third, you know? But I haven't even caught a glimpse of Lord Lamorak.

Excitable Citizen: Of course not! Rumor has it the man's a vagabond. He must hate this kind of pomp and circumstance!

Gentle Citizen: Oh... Well, I can see that. If I had brothers as amazing as his, I wouldn't want to be up there either.

Excitable Citizen: Hah-hah-hah! I couldn't have said it better myself!

The procession ends. Percival and Aglovale climb the steps of a great rampart. From atop its stony crown, they gaze down at their people.

Percival: I am Percival. Today, I come before you not as a lord but as kin—for I am the youngest brother of Aglovale, who is the father of this land.

Percival: It is an honor to stand upon the rampart of Wales and to speak to its people, as it is by your hands that our great kingdom is nurtured.

Percival: I thank you, and I say to you and my brother: may all your endeavors bear fruit, and may your path ever be bright!

People of Wales: Hurrah for Lord Percival!

The people cheer, roused by the sight of their young lord, who stands before them, tall and fair. But then a second hush falls, for the king has stepped forth.

Aglovale: Friends, family, countrymen! First, for your applause and the honors you have heaped on us, I offer to you my gratitude.

Aglovale: Second, I offer to you an oath. As long as Aglovale is king, you shall not know fear nor want—and your wheat fields and your coffers shall ever be filled with gold.

Aglovale: Glory to the land of Wales and its people, and may we never perish from the skies!

People of Wales: Hurrah for King Aglovale!

Moved by the power and dignity of both king and lord, the crowd clap and cheer and throw their caps into the air. Excitement is at a fever pitch.

As they lift their arms in farewell, Percival turns to Aglovale and speaks in a quiet voice.

Percival: I wish that Lamorak were here. He would be glad to see such a sight.

Aglovale: I too would that he had come. I sent out messengers, but alas, they did not find him.

Percival: Perhaps he'll come next time we meet.

Aglovale: Yes. I have long missed him.

Tor, (Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn stand behind the two brothers and smile at their exchange.

Tor: You know, the king speaks often of his brothers. They truly are fond of each other, aren't they?

Vyrn: You betcha! They've usually got miles and miles of sky between them, but I guess nothing really keeps family apart!

Lyria: Hm... Lamorak's the middle brother, right? I wonder what it's like when he's around.

Thus, the ceremony draws to a close.

But even as the crew goes to sleep that night, their hearts are filled with wonder at the splendor of the House of Wales.

A Much-Expected Ceremony: Scene 4[edit]

The day after the ceremony, Aglovale and Tor hold a private meeting, where they discuss a letter come from King Carl of Feendrache, requesting a council where an alliance may be formed between his nation, Wales, and Dalmore. Aglovale decides to attend, after he learns that Dalmore may have requested parley because of the workings of a mysterious cabal within its borders.

---

The day after the ceremony, Aglovale pays a visit to Percival and his companions.

Aglovale: Percival, (Captain), Lyria, and Vyrn.

Aglovale: I thank you for yesterday. The ceremony meant much to me—all the more so because you were there.

Percival: You looked like a king from legend. It was an honor to stand beside you and to share in your joy.

Vyrn: I thought the parade was pretty cool!

Lyria: And you both looked amazing in your new clothes!

1. Aglovale was very dashing!
2. I wish Lamorak had come.
3. I wanted to pinch Percy's cheeks!

Choose: Aglovale was very dashing!

Percival: Hah. Well, of course. He is my brother.

Aglovale: Percival. I did not know you spoke with so sweet a tongue.

Percival: I speak the truth, Aglovale. You are dashing, and I am proud to be your brother.

Go to "Continue 1"

Choose: I wish Lamorak had come.

Aglovale: Lamorak, you say? I, too, wish he had been there.

Percival: Lamorak is fond of jokes. Where he goes, laughter and good cheer follow.

Aglovale: Hahaha. It is true. His capering form and grinning face come now clear in my mind.

Go to "Continue 1"

Choose: I wanted to pinch Percy's cheeks!

Aglovale: "Pinch his cheeks," you say? Hah-hah-hah! But yes... It is very easy to grow fond of Percival, is it not?

Percival: Brother! Please, no more of these jests.

Aglovale: Hm? It seems, Percival, that you cannot tell the difference between when I jest and when I speak my mind.

Continue 1

In the midst of this merriment, the door opens. Tor comes in with a large tray.

Tor: Excuse me. I've brought tea and different sweetmeats.

Vyrn: Yeah! I was just starting to get hungry!

Percival: Hm... The tea is of high quality and has a refreshing fragrance.

Lyria: Wow, Tor. You're an expert in everything!

Tor: Not at all. The true expert is she who grows the leaves and bakes the sweets.

Aglovale: Hahaha. Indeed. And the bread of their labor is my gift to you. Come! Eat and drink your fill!

With these words, the crew begins to sip at the tea and nibble at the pastries.

When talk once again starts to flow, Tor draws close to Aglovale and speaks in a whisper.

Tor: (Might I have a quiet word, my lord?)

Aglovale: (What? Can we not speak here?)

Tor: (I am afraid not.)

Unhurriedly, Aglovale rises from his seat.

Aglovale: I am called away on business, but you need not rise. You may remain here for as long as you please.

Lyria: Okay! We'll be waiting!

Vyrn: You better come back fast if you wanna eat food and not plates and cups!

Percival: Thankless lizard! Spare some for my brother!

Vyrn: Whoa, calm down! I was just kidding!

Aglovale: Ahahaha! Now come! I may procure these dainties whenever I so wish. You shall all eat as much as your appetite desires.

The king then turns and, with Tor following behind, leaves the room.

Aglovale: Now speak.

Tor: A gift has come for you, my lord, in honor of the ceremony. It is from King Carl of Feendrache.

Aglovale: Hm... Continue.

Tor: He has included a letter, written in his own hand.

Tor: It says that there will be a council soon. There, King Carl hopes that Wales, Feendrache, and Dalmore might establish an alliance.

Aglovale: Hah. Hyland, the treacherous archduke of Dalmore! He is brazen to extend an offer of friendship—with the hand that but recently held the dagger of betrayal.

Tor: Will you take it, my lord?

Aglovale: Tor. What do you advise?

Tor: By your leave, I say do not reject it.

Tor: Dalmore is a small country and has not our power or wealth. Yet Gawain commands the strength of one thousand men, and we must be wary of him.

Tor: Consider also that Dalmore and Feendrache are already allies and may one day join against us.

Tor: It would not be wise to refuse parley for reasons of enmity alone.

Aglovale: Hm... That is true... But why do they make the offer now?

Tor: There is a great need—for Dalmore. I have reason to believe it was they who sent messengers to Feendrache and asked for mediation.

Tor: A rumor has been spreading among the merchants, my lord. One that may shed light on the situation.

Aglovale: Go on.

Tor: There are odd goings-on in Dalmore. I heard talk of a strange cabal, but no one can say rightly who they are or what they do.

Tor: I cannot prove it, but I do not think that the council and this cabal are unrelated.

Aglovale: Very well. I will go to the council. And there, I shall see if I cannot find out Hyland's true purpose.

Tor: Then have I leave to send a reply to Feendrache?

Aglovale: You do.

Tor: Very good, my lord.

Aglovale draws himself up. Upon his face, there is a grim smile, and a dauntless light is in his eyes. Tor retreats to his office, where he begins calmly to draft a letter.

Thus, with the scratching of his pen, one tale ends and another begins.

Side-scrolling Quotes

References