Any reasonable ruler would have the expectation and the demand the other way round.
Wise words are like arrows flung at your forehead. What do you do? Why, you duck of course.
Ah, Fist, it’s the curse of history that those who should read them, never do.
The art of illusion is grace itself.
And in the city on all sides, the howling of the Hounds rose in an ear-shattering, soul-flailing crescendo. The Lord of Death had arrived, to walk the streets in the City of Blue Fire.
You’re loitering, citizen.” “Actually, I was hesitating.