Scourge Forty-Five - Permission

“Find anything yet?” I ask as I leaf through a pile of letters.

Bianca’s dad has a pretty good system in place here. There are cabinets along one wall of his office, with all the papers within them divided into three broad categories. General news--which has the most cabinet space--blackmail material, and then unrelated information.

Within those, every letter and report is placed in order of date, with a marking at the top of the page telling the reader what the report relates to. That’s just for the top-most drawer. Those below are organised into topics, like different families and important people. So, I imagine that part of how Bianca’s dad organises his things is to read everything so that he knows which folder to put it into exactly.

It’s a cool system, and it’s really boring to dig into.

Most of the things in the recent drawer are reports about stuff that I can’t imagine myself caring about.

So-and-so’s farm has a reduced crop this year. Whatshisface has been sleeping around with some people in the red-light district and he has some weird tastes. Miss Whatever has been meddling with some politician and has gotten him to accept a deal with poor terms.

Esme’s having a bit more fun with it all. She’s actually sorting through her pile in a similar manner as how Bianca’s dad has it organised. She’s always been good at sorting through this kind of thing.

Felix has laid her head down on a desk in the corner and is dipping in and out of sleep.

I’m tempted to join her. In sleep, not on the desk.

“Not very much,” Bianca says. “There are a few things. Shipments from Algecante have been either late or haven’t shown up at all.”

“A tax person from the capital went missing on-route to the city,” Esme says while tapping one of her piles. “That seems somewhat noteworthy, I guess.”

“Everything’s pointing that way,” I agree. “Anything else?”

Bianca stands up and heads over to the wall of cabinets. She opens a drawer and sifts through it. “Here, this will be older, but it’s all about Altum.” She tugs out a file folder and brings it back to her desk.

Esme and I abandon our own piles and head over to stare over Bianca’s shoulder.

She shifts through the pages relatively quickly, starting from the back where the reports are oldest and making her way to the present. The oldest are well over ten years old, but they’re pretty sparse.

“Looks like someone commissioned a church to Altum in the capital,” Bianca says as she finds a report that goes into a bit more detail.

The next one is about the same thing. “And someone blocked the idea,” Esme says. She reaches over Bianca’s shoulder and touches the report. “They were refused a loan from Mortimer?”

“That’s big,” I say.

Esme glances up. “Is it?” she asked.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” I say. This seems like something my smartest friend would just know off-hand. “Mortimer’s entire thing is money and bureaucracy. Even mom respects him when it comes to that kind of thing. If he’s refusing to give someone a loan, then there's a good reason for it.”

“Hmm,” Bianca says. “That was some years ago. This is somewhat more recent.” She snaps a page straighter. “The church of Luto filed a protest with the city, asking for more guards around the city’s cemeteries to guard them against grave robbers. They accuse some of Altum’s people of interfering with their duties.”

“Grave robbing sounds like something a necromancer might be up to,” I say.

“Makes sense,” Esme agrees.

Bianca shifts through the next dozen reports a bit faster. A lot of them are just tangential things, mentioning Altum along with others. I imagine that Bianca’s dad has a lot of these reports copied so that they can fit in multiple folders.

“There’s not much else here. This mentions a church being built in Algecante... another protest from Luto’s people about their church in Algecante being interfered with... ah, here’s one that says that Altum’s people have been bribing certain governors. The Notari family received a hefty bribe.”

“That’s a lot of stuff,” I say. “But it’s kind of all spaced out. I bet most organisations get just as many reports of weird things they were up to.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Bianca nods. “This is all relatively subtle. Most of these events are months apart. Common folk would overlook these, if they ever heard of it in the first place.” We reached the more recent reports and Bianca set one aside. “This is from three months ago. I think that’s the last time father was here. Report on the sighting of undead to the south of Algecante. A few churches started to form subjugation squads, including Heroe’s.”

It was the last page in the file.

I walked over to the desks where we’d split things up. “That was a few months ago, right? There should be something more recent. If those groups went out, then there has to be a report or two of what they’ve done.”

“How long does it take to reach Algecante from here?” Esme asks.

“I suppose that would depend on the urgency of the traveller. A few as three days, if you have horses to spare. Two weeks with a slower caravan making pauses at every stop,” Bianca says.

I nod. That’s a good question. I look through the pages, looking for anything that mentions Heroe of Altum. Then I land on a report. “Oh, found something,” I say.

The report’s from someone in Heroe’s church. No name on the report, but from the contents I’m guessing it’s not someone really high up in the organisation. Maybe a trainee or some clerk or something. “What’s it say?” Esme asks.

“Uh... subjugation squad eliminated... four survivors return... eight other members marked as missing in combat. Some protest from the surviving members, but they can’t confirm the death of the templars. Undead seen in greater number than expected... ambushed at night on route to Algecante.”

Bianca frowns. “What’s the date on that?”

“Ah,” I look at the date, then work it out. “This is a month and a half old.”

“Heroe has a number of templars in Caselfella, most in the capital. It wouldn’t take them long to march back down to Algecante. They wouldn’t let this kind of insult pass,” Bianca says.

“I didn’t notice anything mentioning a big group of them leaving the city. You’d think at least one report would mention that kind of thing,” Esme says.

“They were at Castaneda’s Stop,” I say.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would they be to the west?” Bianca asks.

I shrug. “They got lost?” I ask, knowing that it’s a silly reply. “Anyway, this just means that we’re not going to be the first to go to Algecante to stir up trouble.”

“It means that a host of templars weren’t enough to subdue whatever is happening there,” Esme says.

She’s right. A decently big group of Templars is actually pretty scary. Some can get to be pretty strong. They’ll have at least two classes, if not three or more. Lots of vigilance cultivators. How did that other group get ambushed then? Overwhelming numbers or undead?

“I think when we head south, we might want to do so with an army.” Mom might be a bit annoyed at me raising a horde, but she’ll understand. Plus, she’s quick to forgive.

The door to the office squeaks open and Rafael pokes his head in. “Miss? Ah, you are here,” he says. Then he takes in the room and the bit of a mess we’ve made of it. “I came to inform you that the water for the baths is being warmed. Food is served as well, though it isn’t anything impressive... Your father won't be pleased to see his work so disorganised.”

Bianca seems very done. “Whether or not he is pleased is entirely up to him to decide. Please keep your own opinions to yourself,” she snaps.

The man is taken aback by that, he stares at Bianca for a moment, but her face is expressionless. That doesn’t stop me from feeling the roiling fear and anger barely contained in her core.

I don’t know if Rafeal has the ability to sense that, at least not the trained ability, but even someone untrained in cultivating can likely tell that you shouldn’t mess with Bianca.

“I, yes, lady Malicieux,” he says before darting away.

Bianca sighs. “Well, that’s something. To think all I needed to get a modicum of respect and to be treated as more than some baggage was the willingness to roast people alive.”

“Roast?” Felix asks as she raises her head.

“Yes Felix, dinner is being served now,” I say.

“Oh, nice. Did we learn anything important with all of this?” she gestures to all the papers.

I think about it for a moment before replying. “Not really, no.”

***