WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
A lofty throne Neron might have built for himself, nestled in Halo's glacial heart, but that did not excuse him the duties of the town within the Citadel. Whilst the majority of the Warden's work lay within the Palace, up on its battlements or along the walls, there were plenty of occasions where his presence did much (or enough, at least), to boost morale and prevent the citizens from revolting. Or eating each other. Enough of that for a lifetime, thanks.
This afternoon's work was informally known as a fireblessing - a minor talent in illusion magic Neron might have, but it was a talent nonetheless, and he found himself in the thick of Snowcloak's marketplace to 'bless' the torches and hearths of the merchants there. His power leant some mystique to the process; the flames leapt higher here, or changed colour there, and the Warden's presence spread like rats into a sewer amongst the thoroughfare of people.
Pausing beside a stall selling mulled cider from a large pot, Neron paused for a cup. The fire keeping the cauldron warm sparked with gold and blue - naturally the merchant was delighted.
This afternoon's work was informally known as a fireblessing - a minor talent in illusion magic Neron might have, but it was a talent nonetheless, and he found himself in the thick of Snowcloak's marketplace to 'bless' the torches and hearths of the merchants there. His power leant some mystique to the process; the flames leapt higher here, or changed colour there, and the Warden's presence spread like rats into a sewer amongst the thoroughfare of people.
Pausing beside a stall selling mulled cider from a large pot, Neron paused for a cup. The fire keeping the cauldron warm sparked with gold and blue - naturally the merchant was delighted.
