| A Waffle Paradise |
Circulation: 193,961,412 |
Issue: 723 | 11th day of Running, Y18 |
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Too Many Collars
by murillion
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I held my right front hoof over the piece of paper on the table in front of me, then brought it down hard. When I pulled my hoof away, there was a glowing golden hoofprint there. “OK,” I began, looking at the Shoyru across the table from me, “My hoofprint on the contract means that all terms are fulfilled and payment has been handed over. The contract is now closed and cannot be reopened. No further changes can be made, no details can be added or removed, no debates or arguments will hold merit. Are we clear?”
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Fyora, in the head seat at the long table, sat back against the chair. Light from the outside poured in through the atrium windows of the chamber, bathing her council in a warm yellow glow. Twelve faeries—two of each kind—were in attendance. It seemed every few years this topic arose. Every time new council members were brought in, new arguments for and against Illusen came up. As usual, Fyora remained silent and listened to her trusted advisors give their opinions—valid they all were.
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