(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"I'd... best not. Farewell, Unfulfilled-Desire."
~~~~~
If Able Ponder-Thought was right, the Fraternity of Order was the best place
to head to for help on translating this journal.
The closest one I could find lived just a few blocks down from the Civic
Festhall. The crest of the Faction was emblazoned on his door, and every
citizen I asked pointed to this house as that of the most prominent Guvner
in the neighborhood.
It was more a library than a home. I walked down the thin alley of
bookshelves, which smelled dry and musty and sharp with age, like an old
wine. Past the aisle was the advocate's office proper, with benches lined for
petitioners for his aid. You'd think that a member of a faction composed
entirely of librarians and lawyers would be old and crotchety. I know I did,
and I wasn't disappointed.
He was dressed in soft blue robes covered with intricate designs, wrinkled
and worn despite their opulence. He looked older than his years,
somewhere between middle-age and early sixties as far as I could tell. The
worry lines made an exact determination difficult. Everything about him
seemed to sag, and he seemed to lean on his cane not because he was
weak, but because he felt he needed to.
As I approached, the man turned slowly towards me; as he did, a cold chill
ran up my spine. The terrible sense that I knew this man, or did at one time,
wormed its way in the back of my mind.
"Greetings..."
The man squinted, as if trying to place me. "Yes? Is there something that I
can help you with?"
"Are you a Guvner? I've been asking around."
He nodded, studying me with a frown. "I am Iannis. Were you looking for
me?"
"I don't know... what is this place?"
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