As with many stories, this one begins with an end. It was early in the day, before the first sunrise, before all of the aristocrats would slowly begin strolling in to gawk at the stone tomb where my wife lay to rest. Some of them would whisper to each other that Xia, our daughter, wasn't wearing the proper shade of green for a gathering of the Calethian Court.
It didn't much matter now that Dresden was dead. I would soon be no more than an ordinary citizen of Calethia.