Consequences of Power

-This is an extract not a synopsis-

Tucked away in a small corner of an impressively large forest is a castle engulfed in silence. The castle wears its silence the way the young and invincible wear their clothes in a new and different way - obviously but nervously.

Perhaps silence is not the right word.

Silence suggests something simple however it is not as basic as implied.

The repetitive movements of the brush picking up dust and dirt that does not exist gives the room a lulling, sleepy hush. Calling it a room does not give it credit.

A vast valley of wooden flooring, with a river of red carpet is flanked by two one-sided mountains of hard wooden chairs which rise to meet a domed sky of masterfully painted tiles. It is the as yet unused greeting hall belonging to the Forest Guardian of Dustnum Tous.

He sits alone in his small bed chamber, adding his own bored silence to the louder waiting one.

Creeping into the small castle through the cracks in the wooden doors and the gaps in the ancient stonework is an oncoming crescendo of the noiselessness of anticipation. It is an anticipation for the events that, unknown to the Guardian, have recently been set into motion.