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[NOT Malorn]

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Each second pricks his patience. Time had soured and plans faltered. He could not help to think if any remembered. It, of course, would be horribly devastating to his master plan for Sanctus. His facade would be broken if any figured out the truth. And it began to wear so dull.

How droll, unenlightening, and worst of all, simple it was for him to trick them all. Even Malic was ignorant to the truth behind his guise, and Malorn had already taken blatant steps to fell him. But it was all in failure.

A thin layer of paper spread across his entire desk, dark in quality. It was covered in notations, phonetic calculations, careful plans, eloquently, and well developed, highly plausible conversations. Each step outlined before it took place, though take place it had.

"What went wrong!" Malorn deftly scratched his scalp with the rear of a quill, tickling it more.

Each note weighed upon his mind through his desperate searchings for an error. An error in his perfect harmonics of language. An error formed in his perfectly calculated conversations, the precision engineering to make the human mind function as he willed. An error he would find in his judgment, not of intelligence and perception, or even cunning. The error stood in his lapse of judgment in Sanctus' loyalty both to their friendships and the virtues. The merest mention of betrayal, even in the guise of defense, was cast asunder entirely! Enselno Albregad... Malorn had made a grave error; one which would not be simply revoked and rephrased. Surely someone had noticed his slip of mind.

His work was set out for him. Luna would fall, and he would be all to benefit. The time would come, his planning must need be ready.

The desk was cleared to the floor with a swipe of his fist. He drew a single sheet of paper and touched to it his quill. This time, it would be without error... everything would be recalculated, reorganized, reequated.

It will be perfect!