Large drops of rain tapped angrily at the stained glass windows, black droplets formed into rivers which crisscrossed back and forth across the colorful mosaic. Distant thunder rumbled and growled across the evening landscape. Cencio sat hunched over a large document uncurled across the top of his massive mahogany desk. His fingers hovered just above the brightly painted Egyptian hieroglyphs which covered the surface of the ancient manuscript which he dared not touch. Cencio's eyes danced over each hieroglyph, each flash of lightning filled the room with liquid shadows which cascaded down the cold stone walls. A loud knock at the door woke Cencio up from his studies.
“Enter,” Cencio commanded, his voice was dry and weak. The large oak door opened quietly, a small bald head peaked timidly through the threshold.
“Cardinal Cencsio,” his bald sweaty head bowed. “The counsel sent me to...ah...They request your presence,” His eyes shifted back to the ground to stare at the colorful carpet adorning the floor.
“Tell them I will come when I am prepared!” Cencio slammed his fist down hard on his desk, pain shot up his arm, stealing his breath away. The small head disappeared with the door closing as quietly as it had been opened.
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