“Hello! I’ve come to see the king to discuss the world's changing mana tapestry as well as the re-establishment of my order within the country. May I ask what appointments are available?”

“No”. The functionary didn’t even look up from the page he was writing on.

“What?”

“No, you may not ask, the king will not be seeing you.”

“Why?”

With a sigh, the man carefully placed his pen back into the shockingly violet inkwell and looked up for the first time. “The king does not have time to meet with every delusional crackpot that wanders in off the street with ‘important information’ to give him. Honestly,” he sniffed, “most people at least put the effort into a more believable story to start from.”

“I see,” Laurel said.

She did not see. Once again she was slapped in the face with how much she relied on the prestige and authority of her sect and status as a master cultivator. Without it she floundered. None of that was going to help her here.

“You are holding up the line.” The abrupt dismissal cut off the next argument Laurel had prepared. Attempting to keep any face that remained, she departed rather than rail at the man in front of the crowd of other petitioners.

Laurel took her time on the way out, nodding in appreciation of the public galleries and well-laid out gardens. These Meristans were orderly and formal, even the fact there was a process to seek a royal audience betrayed the fact. She needed to plan. Her skillset didn’t normally bend itself to navigating complex bureaucracy. The last time she needed to talk to a monarch on behalf of her sect, she simply announced herself at the palace and was escorted in. To instead be departing in absolute defeat was nothing short of shameful.

She had shown up to this first engagement under-prepared and unarmed. Next time the gatekeepers would not find her so easy to turn away.

Her first step was clear. If she was to do battle against the bureaucracy of a kingdom, she would need allies.

*******

Deeply recessed windows stared down at Laurel from an edifice the length of a city block. Thick oak doors were propped open with decorative vases taller than she was, the bustle and shouts from a busy enterprise echoed out into the street.

“Is it supposed to look like it’s trying to eat people?” Laurel said aloud.

“It belonged to the bounty hunters guild before the scribes took over the building, so I expect they appreciated the ambiance.” Laurel turned to see that the man she had thought was asleep against the building behind her had helpfully provided an answer.

“Hopefully the scribes are a bit easier to deal with than the bounty hunters.”

The scruffy man raised a scruffy eyebrow. “Good luck with that, lass.”

The main room of the Scribes Guild was a sea of desks set in neat rows. Men and women were busy reading from towering stacks of reference material or furiously drafting documents. The room was paneled in bookshelves and a few children stood in the corners, jumping into action to retrieve a tome whenever one of the scribes shouted out a title. Three levels of balconies ringed the higher floors. Her imagination filled in private offices for senior members and a quick scan with her spiritual senses confirmed it.

Laurel waded through the controlled chaos to a bank of elevated desks at the back of the room. She dodged a few running children until she reached the steps leading to the dais. A dark-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard at the end of the row waved her over.

“Good afternoon. How may we at the Scribes’ Guild be of assistance today?”

“I’m looking to hire someone for legal advice and maybe some procedural know-how, particularly with respect to royal communication and intervention.”

“Very well.” The scribe looked Laurel up and down briefly and pursed his lips. “What merchant house do you represent?”

“None.” Laurel took on a questioning tone at the non sequitur.

“A noble house then? Or a certified member of a different guild? I didn’t notice a crest anywhere but if you can provide proof of association we can work something out.”

The sound of pens scratching had slowed. Out of the corner of her eye Laurel noticed the closest junior scribes straining to here while pretending to continue with their work.

“I am not associated with any noble house or guild.” Laurel declared, becoming more frustrated with the administrator as the conversation continued.

“I’m afraid the Scribes’ Guild only offers services to those members of a recognized guild in good standing, or the nobility. We won’t be able to offer you any contracts today.”

Laurel’s hands slammed down onto the desk

“Is every small man at a big desk in this country just looking for reasons not to do their job!? I am a master cultivator of the Eternal Archive. I have traded fortunes your merchants can’t imagine, and left armies of nobles cowed in my wake. I have crossed an ocean and a continent to save your pathetic life, along with everyone else in this stars-cursed city, and you are telling me that I can’t get anyone to fill out some fucking forms?”

Silence filled the massive chamber, spreading in a wave from Laurel and the scribe cowering in front of her. She fought to bring her breathing back under control. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment under the pity and derision of these mortals. She whipped around to stare down the scribes, all of whom found something fascinating on their desks to redirect their attention to.

“I-I’m sorry miss. I’m not able to countermand guild policy.” The formerly bored man kept looking to the sides as though asking his fellow scribes to step in and save him.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Fine.” Laurel bit out. “Is there anyone in this city that would be able to help?”

The man looked over his shoulder as if he was contemplating fleeing down the hallway behind the desks. “Members of the Scribes’ Guild are the only licensed individuals set up to provide independent legal advice to citizens.Anyone else is not guaranteed to have any qualifications.”

One deep breath later Laurel was striding back out of the guildhall and down the cobbled street.

“Hey, hey lady!” Laurel looked over her shoulder to see a child running to catch up with her, wearing the uniform of the guild she’d just stormed out of.

“Yes?” Laurel snapped.

The girl reared back. “The scribes don’t like helping common folks, but you should look for Mr. Adam.”

Feeling bad for scaring the child, Laurel decided to play along. “Who is Mr. Adam?”

“He used to work at the guild but he doesn’t anymore. He lives over in the Cartine District with the specialty shops. He might help you if he hasn’t found a new job yet.”

“Thank you for the tip.” She smiled and turned to go when the girl coughed and held out an empty palm. Laurel snorted and flicked a coin. Quick as a flash she ran back up the street towards the Scribes’ Guild.

********

The bookshop door was warped from the sea air, and needed some force for Laurel to shove it open and step inside. She was immediately confronted by an argument between a man waving a broom and a well-dressed gentleman with a rather bushy mustache.

“Why would we carry that drivel? You may as well toss the letters at the printing press and hope for the best. You’ll end up with the same result. These two-penny novels are ruining literature. The plots are derivative, and the characters are just self-insert fantasies of the hack authors.”

“You see if I ever spend another coin in this shop!” The mustached man stormed out leaving Laurel and the clerk alone amongst the books.

After visiting what felt like every tavern, apartment, sharehouse, and public building in the Cartine District, she had finally discovered “Adam who used to work for the scribes guild” was now a shopkeeper. She now had some inkling as to why he might have been asked to leave the guild.

He pasted on a fake smile as he turned to Laurel. “Welcome to Hook’s Books, how can I help you today?”

Laurel wandered the shop, skimming the titles on the shelves as she replied. “I find myself in need of legal expertise, and someone who can help me establish a new kind of organization, fill out all the right licenses, handle contracts, that kind of thing –”

“Ha!” Adam interrupted, “And I bet those stooges at the Scribes’ Guild told you to get lost?”

“Something like that.”

“The thing is, there’s a reason the guild is the only game in town. If it gets out that I helped you, they can make it difficult for me to find work with anyone affiliated with the Merchants’ Guild. And lady, that’s pretty much anywhere you might get a decent living. I might be able to go to some other city and work as a tutor but it would be a risk. Otherwise I would be stuck in some backbreaking factory or hauling cargo off ships. And these hands are not made for that kind of labor.”

Footsteps sounded down the back staircase. “Anyway, that’s why I recommend Persaud’s Treatise of Economic Theory.” Adam said in a stilted, formal manner, pulling a book off the shelf and handing it to Laurel.

“Er, thank you, I’ll take it.”

“I’m going to get some new inventory Adam, you have the shop for now!” Another voice shouted as a door slammed.

“Sorry about that” Adam returned to a normal volume. “The boss won’t like hearing me talk about other jobs.”

“So you aren’t interested?” Laurel’s frustration was returning.

“I didn’t say that, but now isn’t a great time. Meet at The Boar’s Head at sixth bell and we’ll talk.”

“I’ll be there,” Laurel said.

“Also I need you to buy Persaud’s Treatise. 20 silver.” Adam said without a trace of self-consciousness.

******

A waitress thunked two mugs of ale down alongside two bowls of steaming stew topped with chopped herbs and a small loaf of bread before hurrying back towards the kitchen.

“So,” Adam began after a large swig, “tell me what you’re actually trying to do here.”

“What do you know about magic?” Laurel could tell there were enchanted items in the city but she had yet to see or notice another cultivator.

The spoon paused in midair on its journey to Adam’s mouth. “Magic?”

“Magic.” Laurel confirmed.

“Umm. I know Granny said not to mess with the local hedge witches. And I know there are some sort of magic rocks in the fastest steamships, and the army’s planes. That’s about it.”

“I’ll start at the beginning then. I was born a long time ago, I’m still not sure exactly how long but centuries at least. The world at that time was full of people who used magic, which we called cultivation. I was locked away at the same time something disrupted the underlying magic of the whole planet.

“A few months ago, I woke up in the northwestern frontier of the Laskarian Empire to find the world's magic was changing dramatically.”

“Wait a moment,” Adam’s apparent interrupting habit couldn’t be suppressed even with what sounded like the plot of a cheap novel. “You’re saying you’ve been alive for hundreds of years and are some sort of special witch. And you were in the middle of the place that likes calling us perverts for not killing witches on sight?” He let out a low whistle. “Lady, if you’re telling the truth that is a whole lot heavier than I know what to do with.”

Laurel waved her hand in the air, “That’s more or less correct. And of course I’m telling the truth, I’ll prove it to you later. Anyway, I traveled back to my sect, but it turns out everyone there had died in the same cataclysm that left me trapped.” She surprised herself by getting choked up but forged on anyway, while Adam patted her hand looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I tried to start over in a small town, found an apprentice. When they found out they killed him.”

It took a few minutes and the rest of her pint before Laurel could go any further. She would not shame herself by breaking down in front of strangers. Adam proved himself wiser than he seemed by focusing on his dinner until she was able to continue.

“I found out more about what was happening to the world. In simple terms, the magic had been cut off and now it's flooding back in. Imagine damming a river. Over time the dam wears down, springs a few leaks, and after a while, the whole thing crumbles and the river comes roaring back. Anything standing in the dry riverbed at that point is in trouble.

“That’s what’s happening to the world right now. Mana is flooding back into the world, and soon we’ll be back to where we were before. But from what I’ve seen, there’s no infrastructure in place to deal with any of it. That much mana will bring dangerous beasts and phenomena, and they’ll all be drawn to large populations of people.

“My plan is to work with the king here to re-establish my sect in exchange for training new cultivators to deal with these threats.”

Adam continued to eat in silence. Laurel didn’t push him, it was quite a lot to wrap your mind around at first.

“Well, it's a mighty fine story.” He finally said.

“It’s true,” Laurel insisted. “If you’re done eating, I’m happy to provide proof.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Fine. There’s a park a few blocks over, let's see some magic.”

*****

They looked around furtively and confirmed they were alone in the small park. Laurel pointed at a nearby shrub.

“Son of a whore!” Adam shouted as the plant burst into flames. He watched, slack jawed, as the flames changed color, then morphed into the shape of a swan, before pretending to fly away and fading into nothing.

“How’s that for proof?” Laurel’s smile was smug. She hadn’t spent much time on magic for magic’s sake recently and she missed it.

“Convincing. At least on the magic front. It doesn’t really prove anything about impending doom that only you can save us from. ”

Wind stirred the ashes of Laurel’s unfortunate plant victim as laughter poured from open doors of the nearby tavern. She wracked her thoughts for any way to convince a mortal with no mana sense to speak of that she was speaking the truth.

Reluctantly, she pulled out a flat piece of crystal. Adam started when the object appeared from nowhere.

“Where did that come from?”

Laurel ignored him as she stared at the tablet. “This is the last memory of one of the fallen grandmasters of my sect. Understand that I would not normally allow anyone outside of the sect to see such secrets.” She held it out to Adam. He took it carefully, recognizing the gravitas in Laurel’s gaze.

“How does this work?”

“I’ll create the link since you don’t have the control to reach out and connect with the mana stored inside the structure of the crystal. Try to relax your mind.”

“What do you mean relax my mind –”

Laurel reached out with her spiritual senses and hooked a thread of the unstructured mana within Adam into the tablet. She watched as he experienced the destruction of her sect and all the emotions Grandmaster Florin had imbued into the memory.

Having meditated on the Grandmaster's words throughout her journey, Laurel recognized the expressions that crossed Adam’s face like the beats of a familiar play. The terror, the resignation, and the overwhelming sorrow. Finally he resurfaced from the memory, tears streaming down his face.

“That was horrible. And I don’t think I understood most of it. But I can see that if it's all true, we’re going to be in a whole heap of trouble soon.”

“You’re not wrong. Are you willing to help? Of course I’ll be willing to pay you.”

His hesitation turned to eagerness at this last bit. “You mean if I join up I get paid and I can learn all about magic?” He gestured to the charred shrub. “Yes, I’ll help you get an audience with the king.”

“Excellent, we can start tomorrow.”

Adam held a hand up to interrupt. “Now hold on a second. Let's talk about those fees. Hook may be a bastard but the clerk position is steady work, if I’m eventually leaving the shop, you need to make it worth my while.”