The Prophet's Song
The Palace of Alvaria seemed caught between three different states, depending on which room you were in. An ancient construct dating from a period of wealthy imperialism, many areas still had an aging regality and bygone extravagance to them. Others were fully modernized, outfitted with the latest styles and gadgets, young and minimalist rather than old-fashioned and excessive. Then there were the rooms caught in transition, still under construction, as if the architect had not yet decided what they would be.
Marcus wandered the Palace, having been given free rein by Darth Malum for the duration of his visit. There was much to explore, though he didn’t find it as impressive as others might. He was used to majestic mansions and castles by now—he’d lived in them for most of his life.
What he was really hoping for was to find someone or something to occupy his time. His visions guided him through the halls and corridors, seeking stimulating company or perhaps an unexpected misadventure. Anything to break up his boredom…
Marcus wandered the Palace, having been given free rein by Darth Malum for the duration of his visit. There was much to explore, though he didn’t find it as impressive as others might. He was used to majestic mansions and castles by now—he’d lived in them for most of his life.
What he was really hoping for was to find someone or something to occupy his time. His visions guided him through the halls and corridors, seeking stimulating company or perhaps an unexpected misadventure. Anything to break up his boredom…