Johan squinted as he pored over the latest scroll Altia had handed to him. Candlelight was bad for the eyes and it was even worse for the records kept in the Archives, so the light of the archives was filtered in through tall windows on all four sides of the strange, oddly domed building. It was rumored that this building was all that remained of a ruin from the Old Times, the civilization before. Johan wasn’t sure if this was true.
It was also rumored that most scribes and archivers went blind within ten years of service. This Johan believed, having been something of a scribe for a few years in this place. He was having difficulty concentrating now, not because of the low light, but because the last time he had been in the great city, his world had fallen completely and utterly apart.
They had finally entered the capital by night. It had been a day’s ride from the great forest; the warrior women all had mounts waiting at their own encampment to the north of where Altia had met up with Johan. They had given Five Pines a wide berth for fear of running into more mercenaries. Well, fear was not quite the way to put it. To avoid complications and delays. Altia seemed more than capable and seemed to relish the idea of a fight. The shield-sisters who rode with her spoke nary a word, but in their eyes flashed a cold confidence that he recognized in military veterans.
There had been no moon, thankfully, and the cover of darkness was a boon as they rode into the city. There were no checkpoints, no gates to keep them out or close upon them once they were in. The great capital of Sephyria, Keter Rath, not a walled city. It was a cluster of suburbs that slowly gave way to taller, older buildings creeping with ivory. It was not an imposing city. It felt more like a sprawling friend, welcoming travelers to venture deeper into its labyrinth of towers and turrets at their leisure rather than all at once.
Despite the fair weather, only the occasional warm breeze, Johan rode with his hood up. One couldn’t be sure who was watching.
“So what happened to send you to the countryside and away from such…civilization” she said, passing a pair of drunks fighting in the cobblestone street.
“My mentor and I uncovered a conspiracy. Imperial spies attempting to make headway into the city and into the royal court. We investigated, reported our findings to our superiors. Turns out, a much larger conspiracy had already taken place.”
“Let me guess - your superiors were already working for the other side and you took the fall.”
"The Solarian intelligence playbook. I know it well, now."
"So that is why coming here is so dangerous. If you show your face -"
“They’ll find an excuse to kill me.”
“Why hadn’t they already?”
“I had insurance, then.”
“And now?”
He winced. “Expired, I’m afraid.”
“Well, they’ve openly won anyway. This country is now a vassal state. An imperial appointee sits on even local councils, wearing a mask of GYMN. I doubt they would care about silencing you now.”
“Can’t be too careful - an empire is still made of people and people hold grudges, even when their team wins.”
“And what did you do to deserve such a grudge? Kill someone?”
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“Worse - got him demoted.” He had laughed, then, for the first time in a while.
Johan sneezed, sending a flurry of dust into the air. “This one isn’t it,” he rolled it up and shuffled it back into the leather case in which it was stored. “Trade records from Ferryton. Apparently, the respective bakers of my fair town and Ferryton sold each other recipes.”
“Odd - to sell an idea like that.” She placed the scroll case back in its proper notch on the shelf. It was among hundreds of small cases that rested in carefully carved notches, set into the shelves so that none of the scrolls would roll askew.
“People sell secrets and those are merely ideas that no one wants to say out loud.”
She shrugged “I suppose that is true. You of all people would know that.” His side itched and he instinctively brushed the scar with his index finger.
“Yes. Next one - should be records from the year of the Taking.” He pointed and she followed his directions, eventually lifting a nearly identical case from the shelf.
She smirked and handed it to him “Does this boy really mean that much to you?”
“What, that I’d spend an afternoon in this dungeon of scrolls researching?”
“That you would take up among his pursuers to ensure he isn’t caught, more like.”
“Yes. Kel is important to me. I think if we raise more children like him, we can make a better world. One without Empires and shitty kings.”
“But you need a revolution for that.”
“No. Just ideas. And a way to get those ideas to everyone.”
“War changes minds.”
“But a war can be silent and secret.” He remembered years ago. The rumors circling through the Capital. The misinformation campaigns Solaria ran through his information channels. The turncoats who betrayed their oaths of fealty. And the biggest turncoat of all - the former King of Sepheria.
Seeing the look on his face, Altia relented. “Lady Westermindt mentioned that you were embittered about this. I apologize - I only use my spear and never a shield, if you take my meaning.”
“You’re abrasive.”
“It is a family trait, I’m afraid - one that the Westermindts prize highly.”
“Yes, Kyleria has mentioned her sister. It seems they aren’t very close, and yet here you are.”
"Loyalty to family is important to Lady Westermindt. Even if she doesn’t agree with Lady Kyleria’s…choices, she would never fail to assist.”
"Even if it means acting against the wishes of the king?"
"Even then, within reason." They continued reading and scrounging through scrolls in silence for some time before Johan abruptly called Altia back over to him.
"I’ve found something," he pointed to the parchment.
She drew closer. "What is it? The Fellows' land deed?"
“No look - the names. They’re reversed.”
Indeed, the deed read:
Gerald Hardstahdt the Third hereby acknowledges his debt of 4,000 crowns to Endemnia Fellow.
"This isn’t a deed for the land. It’s a certificate of debt. From Hardstahdt to the Fellows. She didn’t sign over anything to him - he owed her."
“So then how did he get her land? How did no one question the debt?” The warrior woman cast him a quizzical glance.
Johan’s mind was racing. The perception in town had been that the Fellows weren't doing so well. Endemnia’s generosity was well known, but everyone believed it was leading her to ruin without a husband to support them financially. And when she disappeared, everyone had believed Hardstahd’s claim. It made sense - he seemed to be doing well with his business ventures and the newer, rich members of the town council supported him whole-heartedly.
"And this seal - that’s Bertram’s seal, bearing witness.”
"Who is Bertram?"
"Merchant. Member of the town council. Important in our little hamlet, if nowhere else."
Had Bertram known about this? Wearing the mask of GYMN himself, as if he was a paragon of imperial and Sephyrian justice. A picture was coming together. A conspiracy more simple than the one he had witnessed in the capitol. It was so stupid and obvious, but sitting right under his nose for the last five years and he had never thought to question it.
The idea alone had been all that was necessary. Johan mentally kicked himself. How had he of all people been taken in by the scheme. He stared intently at the other council names listed on the parchment. How simple and stupid they all truly had been.
“What is it? What's that look?"
“Kel Fellow doesn’t owe Hardstahd a Gibbs-blasted thing. The boy still owns over half of Fellow’s Glen."