Lune also said that I should spend some time with her, instead of inside the cold darkness of a library. I would’ve countered that I hadn’t spent as much time as she thought, had she not brought out a tally of the number of hours.

How dare she. Smart of her, but how dare she still.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 8th Note.

A clerk sat in the middle of an unorganized set of scrolls. They were an old fashion that was only found in a few remote areas, making them difficult to sort among the books and papers they had in the library. But minister Ayshara told him it needed to be done. When that woman said something, it was better to listen to avoid a verbal beating.

So, that’s why he was spread out on the ground today, unravelling and then rolling up different scrolls based on when and where they should be placed. And the topics of them! They were boring and confusing at times, forcing him to run to the other side of the library and get translations of words that were long dead.

But the clerk kept at it, rolling back up those scrolls and placing them on a rack beside him. He stood proud of his achievements until he looked back on the ground and remembered that he had much more work to do. He was about to set on it again when he heard a cough behind him.

The clerk turned around to find a large burly man looking back at him, wearing a green uniform and daggers at his side.

“I… uh, h-how can I help you?” the clerk asked, his voice cracking. The tall man looked around himself before replying, sending shivers down the clerk’s spine. He’s here to kill me. He’s here to kill me and there’s no way to escape.

“I knew Ayshara loves to keep a record of every letter of every word, but this seems a bit… excessive, does it not?” Dolish asked him.

“T-the minister plans on bringing all of it back with her. T-this is more of a temporary holding,” the clerk replied, hoping to keep the conversation— and his life— going.

“And she has you do all the work in that regard?” Dolish asked.

“Well… m-me and a few of my other colleagues. W-who are here right now, I assure you!” the clerk said, trying to scare away the murderer.

“You don’t know who I am, do you, soldier?” Dolish asked flatly.

“….The Formless himself?” the clerk offered, hoping that his name would sate him.

“I’m General Dolish Venastian.”

Oh. OH! The clerk’s eyes widened and he stopped shaking.

“Why didn’t you just say so, General?” the clerk asked, a bit miffed at being played with.

“I didn’t think there was a single person in the camp, no matter how far away at the edges, who didn’t know,” Dolish replied with a confused look.

“Hmph, still. What can I do for you, then?” the clerk asked, folding up more of the scrolls as he listened to the General speak.

“Do you happen to have a catalogue of each of the higher-ranking soldiers and ministers?” Dolish asked him.

“Current or retired?” the clerk asked clinically.

“…Current,” Dolish replied slowly.

“Come with me.”

They moved down the shelves of the room. Those shelves were piled high with tomes of every size and colour. Some of the shelves were emptier than others, but Dolish still couldn’t believe that Ayshara could’ve formed the entire collection at once.

The clerk turned abruptly down one of the halls, forcing Dolish to correct his path. The boy pulled out a step-ladder from beside him, climbing it till he reached a shelf with a set of papers atop it.

“These would be the current Ravenishtani ministers. I’ll find the generals for you in a moment,” the clerk said, depositing the stack in Dolish’s hand and walking away from him. The old general found himself a seat in between one of the shelves and started to read through them.

The papers didn’t have much in the way of interesting knowledge recorded. They were mostly about what each of the ministers were like and if any of them possessed hallowmnacy. When he came to Minister Fersh’s file, Dolish wasn’t surprised to find that the man had been a soldier previously.

No one builds arms like those with just mercantile work. He set aside the paper and heard someone slam more down beside him.

“And these would be the generals. Is that enough for you?” the clerk asked, looking impatient.

“It’s a bit difficult to sort between these. Did you really need to go into so much detail?” Dolish asked.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Minister Ayshara says it might come in handy in the future. Why?”

Dolish wanted to say the reason, but revealing it to a simple scribe seemed a bit much. But what could I say in its place?

“Do these have anything notable written down about their recent choices?” Dolish asked.

“Not the ones for the Ministers, but the papers I just brought should tell you about the decisions His Sharpness and the war council has made.”

The war council I attend, yes. He knew roughly which of them aligned where, but some of the meetings Dolish hadn’t been present for. Including the one that led to the attack on the Phasgorian nobility.

“Thank you for that. I don’t think I’ll need anything more, soldier,” Dolish said reflexively. The boy just nodded and left him alone and the old general set to work.

He started from the recent choices. The Armon had decided to bring in more resources from the east and south east. That was supported by both Renolt and Yennel, along with a few other generals. Minister Malan had brought in most of them, running his coffers dry in the process.

It was choices like those that gave him a clue. Dolish kept track of each person separately, putting down what they’d voted for so he could make a mental map of their alignments. And those who wanted to push further into Sanasira, he threw to the top of the list.

Dolish kept that study up late into the night, the same clerk coming by every so often to ask him about what he was doing. Dolish couldn’t explain it to the boy, so he usually gave excuses. He thought beginning with Yennel would be a safe choice, so he pulled out his profile and set it in front of himself.

The man was quite accomplished for his age. He was the one to thank for fending off the Birralia invasion, and pushing back the Phasgorians who had snuck past their borders to attack the settlement. Without him, they’d be running out of food by now, starving on the battlefield. It’s what had made the Lieutenant General so popular among the people, something he seemed to take pleasure in.

Dolish had known about it, but seeing the report for himself gave him a newfound respect for the man. He had managed a truce where Dolish failed. True, it was before the entire conflict over Elneshe, but it was something to behold still. He put away the paper, satisfied, before taking on the behemoth of a task in front of him.

Night fell and the only thing lighting up the desk in front of Dolish became the bewllan crystals the scribe had brought him. He sat beside him, reading a book in his hand while the old general kept at his task. He snuck glances at the texts every now and then, but feigned interest.

Most of the notes were of a dry variety, but some of them included public requests. Those were open for him to look at, and they included numerous ones from Yennel, Amarna and the other generals. Yennel had requested troops from the other regions of Ravenishtan, while Amarna wanted to send back more of her troops for a vacation. Renolt simply asked for a bigger keep and more soldiers, which was typical of the man. But the Armon had rejected most all of them, only letting a scant few be accepted. After putting those away, he continued on to the rest of the texts.

Looking at the information, a pattern formed that alarmed Dolish. His eyes sharpened and he looked up from his work to call the clerk’s name, forgetting that he hadn’t even asked in the first place.

“Hey, you,” Dolish said, getting the boy’s attention.

“What’s your name?” Dolish asked.

“…Teruvi.”

“Teruvi. Get me a list of all the relatives of these people. And make sure it’s got the time of death listed on it,” Dolish asked of him, looking maddened to the clerk.

But he obliged regardless, somewhat in part due to his fear coming back to haunt him.

Teruvi came back only a moment later, Dolish not waiting for him to drop the papers. Instead, he snatched them off of the clerk’s hands and shined his bewllan over each line as he read it.

“Dead…. Dead…” the general muttered to himself, noting down a tally at his side with a pencil.

Teruvi slowly moved his chair away from the table as Dolish continued. Just to be safe.

“Dead…. And she’s dead too…” Dolish finished, leaning back in his seat and dropping the pencil at his side.

“G-general Venastian? Did you find something?’ Teruvi asked, hesitant to continue.

“They’re dead, Teruvi. And an unnatural number at that.”

“Of… relatives?” Teruvi asked.

“More than that. Look at this,” Dolish said, feverishly waving the boy closer. He would’ve liked not to, but the man seemed insistent.

“Look. There are two camps of thought on this war. For everyone who supports the effort, their family lives. There are deaths, yes, but half as many as the ones from the other side. For those that believe we should give up on the battle and retreat, the number of deceased family members is astounding. So many accidents, mishaps, assassinations. It’s almost as if…”

“As if someone is targeting them, and them only,” Teruvi finished. “Damned Formless, what are you implying, General?” the boy asked him.

“That someone might be extending the war for their own goals.”

“But who? I heard you met with the king of Phasgoria himself. Is he the one behind it?” Teruvi asked.

“No… I’ve my doubts about that. I have some insight into what he wants, and I do not believe he’s doing this for the reasons you think,” Dolish told him. Teruvi ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

“We need to tell the Armon about this. He’s being manipulated!”

“I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You have the evidence right here, General! You told me of all people, why not His Sharpness?”

Because you don’t trust his decisions? Or because of some other reason?

“Because it’s not definitive. There are still attempts on those who support the war. It just seems that it skews more towards those who do not. And is more often successful…” Dolish reasoned.

“Then why me, General?” Teruvi asked. Dolish gave him a sorry expression, like he felt bad for the boy.

“Because I saw you looking. You need to know that you might be in danger as well, Teruvi,” Dolish told him.

“…What?”

“Teruvi. If someone pieces together what I’ve found here, they’ll come after you as well as me. Do not let that happen, understood?” Dolish asked, placing heavy hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“I know you’re not a soldier, but listen to me. This is your life at stake. Not the life of these books, or what information they carry. If you see even a small sign of someone coming after you, you run. Find someone who can help. My camp is always open for you, just request me,” Dolish started counting off, the boy nodding along frantically.

“Put these papers back and go on with your night. Close up the library, head back, and request that Minister Ayshara give you another post,” Dolish concluded, taking his hands off as the boy rubbed his temples.

“Y….Yes, I will…” he muttered, gathering together the papers haphazardly and running towards the shelves. Dolish saw what was left on the table, including a single profile he had not mentioned to the boy. He was a man who hadn’t fit into either camps, but still stuck out to Dolish. Because that profile had belonged to Lieutenant General Yennel, a man who had no living relatives. The man who had signed a truce with Grand Duchess Arelia of Phasgoria to save Birralia.