My father was lying in the sick bed for days, still recovering. His treatments were made confidential while none of the council of elders knew about it.

 My mother and Beta Harold the third, my father's close friend and subordinate, were insistent on it. Apparently, that was what my father had instructed.

That morning, I was just getting out of bed and trying to get myself together. It was one out of the few days of waking up feeling guilty and sorrowful. I was feeling quite better that morning but not fully.

Then I got out of bed and headed into the washroom to brush my teeth and wash my...