[cleveland]

Sitting in your Golden Throne, atop your High Citadel, in your Forbidden City, you yawn drearily as the hours pass.

You glance around...in the far corner sits your War Minister, who has his finger (or is it fingers?) buried deep inside his ear, scratching at something which - by the contortions of his face - seems to be the facial control center of his brain...a bit nearer, your Royal Guards stand at, er, slouch at attention, and you note with silent surprise that only 2 of the 4 are actively drooling on themselves...to your immediate left, the High Concubine is slumped over an empty jug of fermented *snif, snif* is that garlic? toenails, possibly? Whatever it was, at least she'll be out for a while...

How DID I end up here? you wonder to yourself. I'm supposed to be a ****ING PRETENDER TO THE CROWN OF CIVILIZATION! What have I done to deserve this nation of filthy half-wits!?!

High on your daily bump of self-pity, you intentionally fail to acknowledge the entry of your Espionage Chief as he hurriedly scurries across chamber with a thin, weasily looking bafoon in tow.

"Beg'ur pard'on, Lo-rd?" Imbicle. "Ahem, beg'ur pard'on, Lo-rd?"

Rolling your eyes, you sigh long and painfully, finally settling your gaze on him. Sweet mercy, he's ugly! Does he even have any teeth? "Beg'ur pard'on?" Nope, just the one.

Without saying a word, you make a slight gesture indicating that you'll hear what he has to say.

"Si-ar! Tis 'oung scout ha' jus' retur'd from b'hind en'my lines!" You watch the fine mist of spittle he just ejected dance playfully in the sunlight. "E ha' NEWS! 'rom the n'tion a MARIGNON!"

Marignon! Your brow perks up. Oh! If I could only lead Marignon... The familar fantasy scrolls in front of your eyes... Thier men, all so brave! So handsome! Such great conversationalists! And their women...the vision is abruptly dissolved by an unconscious garlic-toenail belch.

Sure enough, the scout does indeed have news from within the Great Nation of Marignon, which had fallen silent in recent months, and was feared (by you, mainly) to be lost forever. But as it turns out, the entire nation collectively decided to take an extended, 3-month holiday, out of fairness to all the other nations. Those sportsmen! But the holiday is now over, and the Marignon government is back up and running, albeit with a super tan.

As the blubbering mess wraps up his story, you find yourself already dreaming up ways to welcome Marignon back. Gold? Gems? A Ring of Sorcery or really any other booster though we're pretty good on Astral and Fire at the moment but would certainly appreciate a Moonvine Bracelet? So many options!

Your gathered minions wince as you rise swiftly from your throne - the Concubine and Guards being exceptions - and stride quickly to your private quarters where you nervously scribble on a parchment:

My Dearest Marignon,

Who says this game is boring? That it can't be revived?...

You agonize over it for hours, though you know you'll never send it...