28

The next morning I woke up quite refreshed and well rested. Anticipating all the troubles that await me in the coming day, I dressed, breakfasted with appetite and, saying goodbye to the household, which I usually do not, went to Scoalt Yard.

Having overcome the cordon of journalists from the capital's newspapers at the entrance to the territory of the Tower, I crossed the courtyard and entered the hall. There was no free space on the walls, floor and ceiling from the piles and crossbeams along which the workers scurried. Marblers from all over the capital are herded into Scoalt Yard in order to give it a proper look as soon as possible.

“Did you see this, Thane el'Moria?” - Marcellus Mork, pacing the hall with a bandaged hand, pointed to the front door.

– Journalists or flowers?

- Both. They do not understand that they are preventing us from working. Although it's all very touching, of course.

There were indeed stacks of flowers against the outer walls, and some well-wisher had hung
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