Running, I leapt from roof to roof until I found the building that had the Brotherhood’s insignia engraved before the entrance. Through the opening, I climbed my way down inside the Bureau. When my boots touched the floor, I turned and pulled my hood down to get a proper view of my surroundings. It was both spacious and silent. The sun’s rays peering through the top was enough to be a source of light. I could only imagine what this space would look like at night. Around me were potted plants, vines growing through the top that hung comfortably against wall decors, a small fountain and a few rugs laid across the floors accompanied by many plush pillows. There was only a door frame to pass through, and after crossing stone floors, I was greeted by a man working on a piece of parchment with a quill in hand.

His head was bowed, and his eyebrows frowned against his forehead. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it with such an intense concentration. I blinked. It was such an admirable sight; I was worried that my presence here would be a sort of disturbance. As I turned to walk away in hopes to return at a more appropriate time, a voice stopped me.

“Hold. What do you think you are doing? You are late enough as it is.”

Stern, sharp and with a slight accent to his words, the man was speaking to me. I turned back around to see that the man had not once removed his eyes from his work.

📖Read it here (Javascript enabled, the page will prompt you questions important to the story)

Confession [@x-klamstrakur]