The Matriarch leaves her citadel of high walls & gate to the chateau of her son, The Heir. The world outside doesn’t look half as fossilised as she would have liked it to.

~Damn this man ~she thought.

~Always doing something or the other. Doesn’t he understand that once people taste the blood of development they will only want more, more & more ?!?~

The Heir is waiting for her. Impatient. Anxious.

~What to do mother ? I wasn’t prepared for this. Who knew we would win & such a decision would have to be taken.

So far I’ve been fobbing them both & now to tell one that he’s CM & not the other ..... What to do ?~