‘Mortal Sword.’ ‘What is it, Itkovian?’ ‘What lies ahead, sir, that troubles you so?’ ‘I’m not sure, friend, but I’m feeling sick to my stomach. I believe we are about to be betrayed.’ Itkovian had said nothing to that for a long moment, then, ‘Sir, if one regards recent events with an unclouded eye, then one might observe that the betrayal has already occurred.’
