"Amen."

Artur was beside himself with joy. He watched as the large mass of people left the Sunday ceremony. The war brought several more church goers, and Artur was glad to see them remain even when the war had concluded. However, this joy came at a price- he had far too little time to spend with Lute.

She had taken up a new hobby, as well. She was now, quote on quote, "the most chimerical writer in the world". Artur sighed when he heard her new title. First off, who in heavens name would know what chimerical means? Second, he had yet to see any of her works. He knew she was a great sage, but an author? He supposed if there were less churchgoers, there would be more time for her. Alas, he wouldn't dare ask that.

His Sunday walk home was fairly uneventful, at least until he ran into Lute outside their home.

"Artur!" She said, before he could even speak, "Tell me what you think of this! One of my new works of literature!" She gave him a sheet of paper, and seemed to eagerly await his response.

He started reading:

"Like savages, they tore into the delicate flesh. Savoring every moment of their kill, the two behemoths laughed as they sliced through the meat. The men were cutting with a small, delicate knife, far more precise then the large steel blades they usually carried. The two held a grin of"

Artur could read no more. "Lute!" He screamed, terrified, "What in the Goddess's name possessed you to write this!?"

Lute gave him one of her signature "innocent" looks. "Sir Kyle and Forde were in town earlier. I wrote this while watching them have lunch. Why do you ask.?"

Artur let out an incredibly loud sigh. "Lute?"

"Yes?"

" I think you'd better stick with monk watching."