The High Reverend was napping in his seat within his office, a Curate rushing into the room. Excited, the Curate exclaimed, "Exarch! Exarch Manfried!" The elder awoke from his short slumber, arching a brow at the Curate who had rudely interrupted his sleep, "What? What is it, Brother?" The Curate swiftly placed a piece of parchment upon the table, before speaking, "The mist! The mist is gone!" The elder gasped, before placing on his spectacles. His eyes walked along the paper, his smile growing with every word, "It is gone! It is gone!" He exclaimed himself, "Praise be to the Spirit!"