Strathard

Face to Face

He was being fed a magic brew, which was transforming the ordinary to the extraordinary, the stark to the subtle. It was a magic which excited him. It had its castle, its queen, its witch, jester, saint, and sage. He felt that his base metals were being refined to something more precious than gold. And he thought with a secret smile that it was the queen who was weaving the spell. Pity about the witch.