It was a cold night in the palace, a snow storm raged outside.

Pantalone sat at his desk, pen scratching against paper as he reported the budget. Despite the cold that seeped into his office, the black sleeves of his turtleneck were rolled up, his rings on full display on his gloved hands. He paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as the ink seemed to dry up in his pen.

The Regrator sighed; perhaps that was his cue to take a break.