Auteur/autrice : Cyril Pasteau

– THE COUNCIL IS NOW IN SESSION. I WILL BE YOUR PRESIDENT FOR THIS STRATEGIC MEETING. – Yes, Sir President. What is on the menu, Sir? – I HAVE ASSESSED THE BIG NATIONS OF THE WORLD. WE ARE GOING TO CRUSH THEM, AND FOR THAT WE NEED TO BE CLEVER AND THINK TWO-DIMENSIONALLY, USING SOMETHING…

– Ei gh t em pir es. The voice was raspy and slow and you had to stop humming and scratching yourself and keep your ear close to the darkness to grasp what it was saying. – Angus does the reports. Who is this creep? – Ladies and gentlecritters, Angus had a work accident that…

The headache just wouldn’t go. Most of the time, I’d find it impossible to work on these annals. If I’d just relax and daydream for a while, a comforting torpor would settle in, and I’d had visions. Wine-induced visions, I understood that much. I saw the ancient past, a younger, unbroken world, and I witnessed…

Every few months, another envoy from the Lion Kings would demand our unconditional submission. The wives of the Fomorian would ambush the diplomat after he’d say his piece, and keep him for their own nefarious ends. An apoplectic Tuan would raise his arms to the sky every now and then, shake his old head and…

I was drunk. I had failed to spot the signs and portents. For the last few weeks, an eagle had perched atop Rath Chimbalth, surveying the kingdom. I knew this was no ordinary eagle, but I never reacted, even when it glided into the room and sat on my lectern. Numbed, I proceeded to read…