Thief: You can't go around saying things like that. The treacherous viziers record everything. White Mage: Your viziers are treacherous? Thief: It's an elven court. They're all viziers, and they're all assholes.
"Truth at court was treated as if it were a precious commodity. It was hoarded, coveted, bartered for. Certainly this analogy applied to lies; his courtiers accepted his lies as currency of the realm. He handed them lies in large denominations, and they returned him his change in small ones. Oh, but truth was something different. Something alive and immortal. By light of day it was only a little butterfly: pretty, elusive, easily crushed and utterly unable to defend itself. Most nights, too, it slept harmlessly. One could wave it away for a very long time. But on the nights it did not sleep, neither did the King."
