Prologue
The Regent of Oz, mighty, majestic, and demanding, stood before a glass window through which she peered to glimpse the sight of the Emerald city. Out on the streetwalks, the rich ogled at the sights of the luxuries found in the city shops; in the dark back alleys, glimpses of the dirtied, tortured faces of the poor were visible to the Regent's eyes.
A light breeze entered, and she shivered at the cold caress of this breeze. Coincidentally, she had also been glancing at the cafes where students where rumoured to have been planning the demise of her regime.
Perhaps she shook also from her Old Age. The Old, after all, is more sensitive to these things than the Young.
As she glanced further through the city like a watchwoman, the glass she looked through reflected back the gaze of a wrinkled face, aged from long toils and years of both joy and agony. Beneath her the cafes where the young and rebellious students gathered slowly emerged to view as the Regent stepped forward.
She could feel it coming, the rumbling of change in the streets and the gradual destruction of her regime.
The time for the Old to leave inched closer and closer...