Miraya received us in her private study within the Temple, a room lined floor to ceiling with texts far older than the ones I'd been buried in that morning, their spines cracked and their titles written in a script even Darius admitted he couldn't read.
"You want to replace the Ceremonial Blade," she said, once we'd explained, her tone perfectly flat — the voice of someone deciding whether to be offended or impressed. "Do you have any idea how many doctrines that violates?"
"I have some idea," I said. "I read three of them this morning."
