…..:::::|. The Ladi: East Ward .|:::::…..

“We've littera to pen, ser.” He dipped quill into ink.

“Yes, I, one Exemplariat Hollichek, Actus Agentem ev Uraegg eut ek 'Raam, do commit pen to scroll in littera missiva to one good King in Regent Gauriasse Tiiraevelle, the Everminded, of the region and province The Great Island of Gaen a Nce, the greeting of his Agent on charter and the well wish of good health and fine practice in His Lordship's daily trades.”

“I will make erratum as one Percival Hollichek, as there are three Hollicheks in the service of your Order.” The Chancellor pointed outward with quill.

“Two. One wolaenki and two Actus Agentem...” Percival kicked an eyebrow up as he spoke. “And only one stands in my station.”

“Forgive the oversight. I shall leave it as you have stated initially.”

“Yes. You will.”

The girls looked to one another. Then back to the three men in the room.

Do we really have to sit here for this? Kodlaa pondered.

Your guess is as good as mine.

“Of your father, how is Ruu these days?”

“Babysitting.” Percival was not up for small talk.

The Chancellor sighed. “I will not aim supposition upon your caste but you all certainly seem to rue your work.”

“Not the hunting. Just the sitting.” His voice was much more manly than the frothy pomp of the fat one scribbling on parchment. He dipped that jewel encrusted quill into more ink.

“Ah, yes, then on with the report.”

“At His Lordship's most urgent request, the afore-named missi on loan, grant, and charter by the one Kadif O'denuiab the Stolen by rite of Eunderloch Heit, the only of his name, herein has succeeded, as is his never-failing, in the contracted quarry of one Marvynn Tiiraevelle...you'll have to spell that, I always insult his Majesty with my Buraamiran version on his name.”

“There are double i's, an ae, double l' s and an e the end.”

“Right, the extra e.” Percival gave a small roll of the eyes.

“Certainly.” The Chancellor sniffed, nervously trying not to eye the man covered in bits of another man sitting in his nice chair. “Surely, it isn't unlike your doubles Exemp--”

“Ours are smooth, born of life’s first breaths. Any other doubled letters in our words are an unfortunate hold over from Gaennish Occupation...Chancellor. Trust me we try not to use them.” The Gaennish Chancellor blinked a tiny glance to the Buraamiran Agent.

Between The Great Island of Gaen a Nce and the continent of Buraamira was an ocean of bad blood. Two hundred and fifty cycles ago, in an unprecedented display of military force the Gaennish invaded Buraamira and had managed to crush and ravage--under barrage of magecraft and otherworldly fighting technology--the Great Zhuer Kadifdom of Yng; the seat of the first race after they’d already been deposed from their ancestral home in Busahir, Gaen a Nce.

Raping the Buraamiran land of rich resources, fine gems and gold. The race nor the land had recovered in all the cycles since. Then again, not three generations after, did Gaennish forces occupy, for a second time, nearly every major city in Buraamira; the largest being the blended Zhuer city of Khartoum. They remained on their continent’s soil for upwards of fifty-two cycles, policing as they saw fit, ordering natives to build idols to their then Gaennish King Ontravelle Tiigra, herding refugees and orphans of war into tinker-houses to build more resource powered ships for their armies. It took the whole of Buraamira; the Zhuer As'safari, the Communes of the Channeled Marches, and all of Cat'a to oust the heavy infantries and powered ships the Gaennish lorded over them.

After Tiigra's assassination, new leaders of the nations met in a season-long moot to settle differences and establish a tentative truce. They both still viciously guarded their coasts. Fifty cycles later, talks and moots still remain tense but no conflicts had arisen in recent cycles due in part to the efforts of the Agency.

Ahhhh, right. Political heat. Halycind remembered.

But my name has two letters. Does'at mean Percival doesn't like me?

“He who was to be apprehended alive, apropos addendum requested by one King in Regent Gauriasse Tiiraevelle the Everminded, for the crimes heinous committed against Buraamira.”

“Be sure it reads that execution is on a King's audience.” Percival cited.

“Ah, yes well there are a few points to be addressed on the details of the performance of said missive.”

“Assuredly.”

Look at your quintox I'm scared to look at mine. I wanna stay on Percival's good side since he's so opposed to letters.

I don't think your name makes him angry...this office might. Halycind pulled from her still partially undone tunic a copper system of rings, dials and mirrors. The perfunctory flick of its workings garnered only minor attention.

Only half a pach in.

“There was the matter with seven of our gardens trampled by footfall and craft usage?”

“Cite that as 'Gift' usage on our parts. There is a distinct difference.”

“What about my knives?” Kodlaa blurted a worried query.

“...And five knives.” Percival added.

“Very well. The one calling himself Mad Mage Marvynn destroyed a total of twenty-eight benches, seven lamp posts, five knives and a screen for usage in mummery. How say you, Exemplariat?”

“I say, truth.”

“On the account of four injured at the ankles.”

“Truth.”

“On the account of one cranial injury.”

“Truth.”

“On the account of six interiors decimated.”

“Seven...the Bowyer's shop.”

The chancellor made a tally mark.

“On the account of three stalls laid bare.”

“Two, one of them, an apothecary's wagon-stall, was already bare. Plaint.”

How does he remember all this while trying to catch a runner?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I dunno...smart?

“Ah, then on the account of sixteen stream-beds ruined for an estimate of one fortnight's rebuild.”

“Ruined? You live on a mountain-spring they'll be running again in two moons. Plaint.”

“Ah, yes, then, certainly. On the account of ten collisions causing contusions about the arms and legs.”

“Truth.”

“On the account of four ladies torn indecently bare from chase on foot through three homes.”

Percival seemed to be proud of this account as he lofted eyebrows in-spite of himself. Had he caused such ruckus for his own amusement? “Truth.”

“And on the account of six cobbled walks shredded by...glass?”

Percival pointed to the man in the box. “Had to catch him. Truth.”

The Chancellor tilted his head in Percival's direction oddly.

“Add there the permanent loss of 1/8 of your treeline near Has Gate due to petrification.”

For the first time the Chancellor looked up to give him full attention. “Pe—Petri...”

Percival nodded, annoyed with this bureaucrat. “He's a Sjaeha Level Dual Mage in the talents of Transmutation and Geocentry...and quite possibly now, Pyrocentry.”

“Then...do accept my most...humble of gratitudes...dear Exemplariat.”

He shuffled stacks and pages amongst the official bits upon his desk in a silent fit of histories too close. He was seemingly more embarrassed of his now sour position in questioning this man that just saved his city.

“Uh, in light of such...sour reprehension, no accounts are so dire as those that deserve recompense. Please suffer me only two hence? As a personal note?”

“Speak.”

“There was a plaint laid of...animal viscera strewn about the streets? A stocksman issued request his well, stock, be repaid?”

Percival chuckled.

“His stock is fine. That was a clever illusion by our aBn.”

“Oh, you stow an aBn?”

“Under my ward and charter, yes.”

The Chancellor hesitated as he searched through other papers.

Halycind's feet were hurting from all the standing. If something interesting doesn't happen in like two seconds, I'm dippin'.

Not if I don't dip first.

“There are no battlemages on roster from the port city.”

“He arrived by voidhearth. Mine. From aBn Tera Villa.”

He has a voidhearth? Halycind blared.

I was wondering why Siin didn’t have to trudge uphill like I did. That’s not fair.

He owns a voidhearth?

I suppose so, Cash. Don't you care about my trudge uphill?!

Don’t you care about my climb?!

“Yes, yes of course, yes.” The Chancellor flashed his remembrance in receiving the young mage only days ago on that very platform where Marvynn sat in a box.

“There is the report of street-bricks being upturned as the warcaster in question fled?”

“Again a very well done ruse performed by our aBn. And if anyone's seeing that, you've got a bigger problem. They’ve either got mage talent and don't know it or their too dumb to realize not to admit it. Either way you should have Ebron look into that.”

“Rightly. Damages?”

“It's an illusion. There are no damages.”

“Then we are on to the matter of walking coin, wherein I--” he stalled and blinked so many times his lids seemed like the wings of flutterbys. “It seems as if the Chancery is inefficacious in settlement. I will have promissory drawn for your withdrawal down in the port city.”

Observant enough not to let the girls see, the Chancellor slid the ledger for Percival's review.

“Satisfactory for board and travel.”

“Good. Then the final order is the petition of our King in Regent--”

“That he asked me to personally relay.” Percival slapped at the ring on his wrist and both the voidhearth in the room's corner and about twenty-three or so Grui drew up a bright blue glow. The Chancellor, sorely un-use to rampant displays of craft, recoiled at the sight of everything.

“Exemplariat?” A hazy face of a middle-aged eager man coalesced in swirls from the glowing Grui.

“Hello Gauriasse...” Percival’s hand motioned over to shoved the net of Grui over toward the glass box with a foaming mage inside. “...there's your brother.”

The girls reacted soundly in new stances at the notice of the mens' kinship.

Whoa.

Oook, staying.

“Marvynn...” His hazy head turned toward the Agent. “You've not executed verdict?”

“Interesting choice of words, Gauriasse.” He was clearly not addressing him by regency.

“There is no quantifiable apology I could heap upon you, Agent. He is quarry and yours. I only begged--”

“Yes, for the third time you've begged. He is to burn.” He stated most assuredly.

“Would I were there to watch over him? To relieve him of this torment.”

“You speak of mercy where none is earned.”

“It's not his fault!” His head near spat the tears rushing without restraint from his eyes.

“Would you take the burning stake in his stead?” Percival looked at him as if his head had gone ugly.

King Gauriasse searched for sense about him in whatever official room his haze was projected from. Then stole his look away. “Were I the chance to feed...to clothe...to wash my brother once more...to comfort where there is none, I would heap upon your Kadif walking coin to fund your Agency for the cycle.” Tears welled so strongly in the King's eyes that the brown colour of them was lost in sheets of glass.

Percival stared at him. Heartless in his posture. “In the name...and by charter of one Kadif O'denuiab Eunderloch...” When Percival began to utter judgment, the boxed mage wriggled in defense of some unseen force touching at his skin. The space where the box hovered was beginning to waft a certain heat and Halycind stepped away from the area beside.

“Nonono, please, please don't burn him!” Gauriasse screamed.

“...The Stolen. The only one of his name, and by request of the one King in Regent Gauriasse Tiiraevelle...” This time he pronounced the Regent's name with a Buraamiran accent; rife with rolling r's and guttural h's. Exceptionally beautiful in its own rite but coarsely mean.

Both Halycind and Kodlaa noticed the veins under Percival's gloves grew to a green-blue glow, then noticed the ring at his wrist rotate to yet another rune without his turning it. “I do hereby commit to ashes in judgment of Regent's kin, the fugitive in aBn Tera accord, one Mad...Mage...Marvynn.” Inside the box the mage seemed to be engulfed in flames, burning alive in screams that could naught be heard for the muffled glass confinement. Even as the voidhearth blinked new different sigils in a flash, the mage's flesh seemed to burn away to nothing. “May the Nomads of the Tribes of Khartoum...rest avenged.”

Marvynn's clothes and robes crisped in a singing burnout as the last of the Mad Mage burned to ash. Halycind tilted her head then cut a curious eye to her childhood friend. She, bent a curious tilt also. They'd seen many-a-thing burn. This display was arresting, for his body did not do what burning bodies did.

The veins in Percival's hands fell from their glowing and the ring stopped turning.

The glass box dissipated into crackling sparks.

“We are in service of Kings, Gauriasse...we respond to no bribery of coin at a tear's fall. You asked me to end this. And I have.”

Gauriasse was a weeping pile of sniffles.

“Prepare for an addendum of memoriam I will write it personally and deliver it by Bird to your desk on papers milled from Khartoum.” It seemed as if every word Percival spoke was a knife to King Gauriasse's heart. Percival watched at him hurt. “This communique is satisfied.”

The green ornate case was brought to the sour scene by a bright round woman. The Chancellor quickly rolled ledgers huffing and dumbfounded from an execution performed in his office. He hurried to rid his discomfort of this Agency business.

“Request is filled. Send in triplicate.” Percival concluded.

“And the addendum?” The Chancellor asked.

“I have my own Bird.” Percival smirked. “Good day.”

They all left the Chancery with Percival having mentioned something about fresh roasted meats.

Food was the farthest from the girls' minds.