Ah, pleasant times always seem to fly by in a blur. Just like a few months ago, when the Governor of the colonial province was still wearing his powdered wig, sipping fine wine within his domain, dallying with beauties, deaf to the bitter wails of the disaster victims outside and blind to the piles of bleached bones lining the dusty roads.
How lofty and respected he had been back then. Yet who could have foreseen that mere months later, he would flee in panic from his own territory only to be captured by the enemy aboard his nation's own warship.
Though his attire remained proper and his plump, gluttonous form was as repulsive as ever, his complexion had lost its ruddy glow, replaced by a ghastly, trembling pallor.
Chapter 538