You enter the Great Hall, greeted by a roomful of the delegates' chatter. As promised, Michael stands just inside the door and gives a reassuring half-smile. The atmosphere is slightly drunk and gleeful as if all thirty or so of your visitors had forgotten the hefty purpose of their visit.

You are hardly noticed as you cross the room to the far end, but once you take your seat at the head of the table, your father's chair, the talk dies down and then stops altogether. You scan the unfamiliar faces in the room and gain a sense that while some may be mere greenery, in attendance only for show, others are undoubtedly poisonous.

The man in the chair closest to your right stands up to address you formally. "Gardener," he begins. Your message has been received. "I am Joseph Calloway. I knew your father well, and am so sorry for your loss. I have travelled here from Cambria with a heavy heart, and am at your disposal. Please call on me if there is ever anything that you should need."

You nod in acknowledgement then gesture for the stranger to take a seat and he eagerly complies. Your chest pounds and your fingers and lips feel numb. A cold root of fear begins to spread in the pit of your stomach, and you are worried that if you speak your insecurity will be revealed. Nonetheless, you have no patience for niceties and want only to get to the purpose of the visit. Anxiety and overwhelm want you to scream at this man, but instead you address the room with words that you have spent the last hour rehearsing over and over.

"Gentlemen. I welcome you to my late parents' home and hope that you are well fed and rested. Our country has been in turmoil for much of my life, and I am grateful that the hostilities have at long last come to an end." You raise a cup of wine that was waiting at your place, "May the peace last for generations to come."

Calls of "Hear, hear" ring out heartily and you believe you note some relief in the tones. As the delegates drink to your toast, you regard your libation for a brief moment then promptly set it down without taking the obligatory sip.

"Now, gentlemen, to what do I owe the honor of your company?"