47 - All Figged Up

I, Ienas Aratin, fessas, do swear on my little professional god and my hope of Celestialis that this year has been either a blessing or a most profound curse. I will get back to you when I figure out which one it is. Let me explain. You remember back at the beginning of the year, when I had the Heir himself sitting in a dog costume under one of my tables, held on a leash by a one chainer