A Simple Message

I should hate the sun. I know this. The sun, though, doesn't seem to particularly hate me. Not as an individual. I'm sure that many deities of the sun have umbrage against my bloodline, others against the acts I've taken to survive.

I do resent the sun though. What other power would pierce into my eyeballs, even when its light is blocked by a leather tent wall?

I don't get it; I may not have all the pieces to, yet.

It could reach me in the basement of the Countess; it couldn't penetrate mountains. Living woods sometimes protected me; buildings less so, even the mighty walls of Magne Valour.

With a heavy yawn, I realized I couldn't see them, not with the guardsmen right there, to include one in a chair that I took for their captain. "Up for breakfast, Spear Hero?"

He rose to his feet. "Come with me, the mayor wants a word."

I blinked. "The outhouse first, perhaps?"