The scholar stepped through the portal, emerging in his room. The Magic Lock latched onto the books blown off by the wind. This chamber was filled with his research and memories, but there was no time to enjoy the peace now. He pressed the switch, and the door to the chamber swung open. A cacophony filled the hall, momentarily giving him the illusion of being back in the Secret Pivot Council's hall in the City of Wandering. But it was only an illusion—in that tall tower, his presence would calm the unrest; here, however, he was just an ordinary Lich.
The members of the literary society and the executive committee stood together—a rare sight indeed. They were under the protection of Andrey's enforcers, giving speeches of war in the Andrey corridors. The scholar drifted afar, propelled by magic, but the structured yet inciting speeches still reached his ears. The literary society seemed deeply invested in the war against the Evil God, which was, admittedly, a good thing.
