Buorlan sat at his desk leaning over multiple ledgers. The afternoon sun was low in the sky casting long shadows across his small office. A candle flickered on the desk, chasing away the early darkness.
Bourlan looked over at the square metal box casting a shadow over his page. He lifted the lid an inch, then let it fall. The petrified bird within would be the same as every other time he had peeked. He sent a letter to the Roshen court asking them to come get their run away princess and they had sent a dead bird as a response. Fairies were strange creatures. Buorlan picked up his quill and continued writing as the shadows shifted across the desk.
The office was high in the Enrilf palace overlooking the city of Athon. The room was inside one of the outer towers, circular in nature and made of white stone. The large desk took up most of the space, made of a dark wood and a grand chair to match.
The wall opposite was flat and covered with a large tapestry depicting a historic battle. The victors rode on Norleti war horses across the killing fields scattered with corpses, holding the enemies heads aloft. In front of the tapestry sat two leather arm chairs. A small table between them with a crystal decanter filled with whisky and matching glasses.
A mirror hung at eye height next to the large oak door.
Tall windows framed Buorlan sitting at his desk; one on either side of him. The left was a pristine curve while the other had warped during the White Enfir's revolution; the stone had melted in her destructive white flames. The gaps were filled with mismatched grey stone forming a smaller rectangular window.
Buorlan put down his quill and sat back in his chair. He massaged his temple and ran his fingers through his wavy black hair. His hair fell just below his eyes, the black stark against his pale skin. He had sharp emerald eyes and an ungodly beauty. A delicate angular face and lean stature. Stress lines across his forehead, betrayed his youthful appearance, indicating his true age of twenty seven. His face was a tool honed for politics and far too perfect to be entirely natural.
He wore a double breasted charcoal waistcoat. Subtle grey embroidery in a paisley design wove between two rows of black metal buttons down the front. The sleeves of his shirt were white and slim fitting, with cufflinks that match. Black dress pants and polished black shoes stuck out from the other side of the desk. A matching black outer coat hung off his chair.
Two quick nocks sounded.
"Enter." He said.
The door opened and the slip of a man entered. Almoris closed the door behind him, never turning his back to Buorlan. He had plain features and long brown hair tied at the base of his neck with a red ribbon. His face was lined from years of service. He wore the uniform of a royal servant; a simple black tail coat. Gold trims on his cuffs and shoulders marked him as educated and the five gold strips across the left side of his chest denoted him with the highest rank a servant could achieve. He held a notebook and a stick of charcoal.
Buorlan sat back in his chair waiting.
Almoris bowed deeply. "Sir Buorlan, I have the report you requested and some news."
Buorlan sat up at his desk leaning forward with his elbows on the papers in front of him.
The servant stepped towards the desk and lowered his voice, "The King has been mobilising his men. As of right now we don't have any idea what he intends."
"Who has been counseling his majesty of late?" Buorlan asked.
"Without being in the room I can't be sure." He replied, shaking his head.
"With the Royal Chamberlain away someone has to be whispering in the King's ear. What of the Queen?"
"Since the announcement of her pregnancy she has been in seclusion. The King made it clear a few days ago he won't see her till the child is born."
"Have you received news from the King's lover, Lord Malis' daughter?" Buorlan asked.
"She and her servants were found dead." Almoris lowered his voice. "The royal child was burnt. I sent the body to be purified and buried in the south. Lord Malis has left the capital for Kaenid to bury his daughter and grieve in peace. He has sent word explaining his withdrawal from all political affairs."
Buorlan leaned forward, resting his head against his clasped hands. Count Malis was a strong political allie. Together they had been about to keep Ilrune Volus from gaining more power. When the King married Saria Volus, Illrune managed to sway some of the previously neutral lords to his side. Queen Saria was well received by the nobles. Her pragmatic and poised demeanour has quelled King Gilliphis' rash behaviour. Illrune has gained more power and favour with the King and the court in the last year.
Lord Malis' daughter giving birth to a son and heir in hiding was a deep blow to Volus. Even if the queen gave birth to a son he would be second in line to the throne. Word must have reached the Queen or Illrune when the child was registered with the church. Buoran made a mental note to have the parish dealt with. With the child dead and Malis hiding at home, Buorlan was without soldiers and support.
He pushed his ledgers to the side and looked down at a map of Ealria. His fingers traced the long thin country. He tapped the southern tip of Kaenid, Lord Malis' county, and ran his finger upwards. He passed the Volus dukedom in the centre and finished in the northern Lamolli county. He tipped his fingers on the map.
"Count Lamolli has always remained neutral. He frequents Lark's establishment, Commadean house, if i'm not mistaken?" Buorlan asked.
"Yes, he and his wife don't get along. She lives in the north while he spends most of his time in the capital. However his eldest sister, Lady Faylin Lamolli, is engaged to Lyrll Volus. I'm not sure he would be a reliable ally."
Buorlan rubbed his temple. He would talk to his cousin about Lamolli and tucked away the information for later.
"What of Iepho?"
"As you're aware Sir Iepho is a difficult man to track. He makes a show of wrangling nobles round his little finger but is as elusive as smoke when he wants to be. I tried tracking his movements but since the winter solstice he has dispatched his old secretary and not replaced him."
"So he no longer has a weak link we can exploit. When was the last time he made a show?"
"The winter solstice was the last time we had sight of him."
"He's laying low, probably outside the palace. Post someone to watch the tunnels for his return." Almoris opened his book and started to scribble down notes. "Have Ceillor and Shu watch the king's guard and send word if anything changes."
"Yes, my lord."
Buorlan waited as Almoris wrote.
"What of Illrune's movements?"
"Midnight swindled him and got a lot of gold in the process." Almoris replied.
Buorlan laughed, feeling a bit of his stress lift.
Almoris continued. "I gathered eye witness reports and found that a woman with blue hair the colour of the night sky was seen brawling and making trouble at a public house. Putting the pieces together I believe she swindled Duke Volus out of one thousand gold. The premise was an investment that would double their profits. Her and her merry band of half breeds drank and gambled a lot of it. However, the issue is what she did with the rest."
"I take it this is where the counterfeit claims come in?"
"Indeed. We interrogated an inventor who she tricked into finding an alloy that has the same weight and density as gold."
He raised an eyebrow. "Tricked?"
"He's talented but incredibly dense. I don't think he even considered the use of the metal till it was finished. The warehouse used to melt and cast the counterfeit coins was abandoned but we tracked down all the workers and dealt with them."
"So Duke Volus was lumped with a thousand counterfeit coins and I take it he's trying to find her?" Buorlan signed. Hiring Midnight to distract Volus had only created more of a nightmare for him to clean up.
"He tracked her down the coast to Myith but lost her there. She had an interesting evening of arson. Of course only targeting Volus's store houses and boats. He's lost, Ibris and Paenega only know how much stock. As well as a thousand gold he gave Midnight. With the allegations of counterfeit coins he sacrificed the fakes to the crown."
"I take it he has been in Myith during this time?"
"Yes, my lord."
"How much of the town was burned?" Buorlan asked.
"Not much. Luckily most of Volus's store houses were stand-alone buildings. The fire's only burnt a single street. Mostly vacant lots with it being winter."
"Were any other ships missing? Or conveniently left Myith just before the fires broke out?"
"Every ship was accounted for. We believe Midnight headed south on foot towards Wilbry or across the border to Ruolin."
Buorlan sighed leaning his head against his hands.
"Send a half century of reserve troops down to Myith. Most of them are labourers by trade and can help rebuild. Make sure to send an architect as well. Until spring we can't afford to send money or resources." Almois went back to taking notes. "And contact the abbey close to Myith. I'm sure they can spare some donation money to help with the rebuild if the crown is asking."
Buorlan placed his hand on the metal box. "Do you have any answers for this?"
Almoris looked down at the box knowing it contained a petrified bird inside. "Acording to the university archives, fairies commonly send dead animals as messages. A bird is believed to mean that the message was received. It was also stated that the way the animal died and its fading energy, that we humans can't detect, is part of the message."
Buorlan leaned back in his chair. "So the Roshen court is aware that Midnight is here but we don't know anything else?"
"I'm afraid so. Will that be all, my lord?"
"Yes, thank you Almois."
Almois bowed deeply. At the door he stopped and opened his notebook.
"I almost forgot this was delivered for you. I double checked, it doesn't have any trace of magic, nor any poison on it. However, the attendant who brought it to me conveniently couldn't remember who they received it from." He handed over the envelope before swiftly leaving the room.
Buorlan leaned back in his chair staring at the envelope, the aggressive floral scent of perfume attacked his nostrils. The front was addressed with a fluid feminine script, the words 'To my Buo' in blue ink. He turned the letter over. A crude blue wax seal, completely flat with a crescent moon roughly cut out the centre. He broke the seal and opened the letter.
'Oh Buo, please I have to know, what's so lucky about the number six?
How comfortable are the beds at Lania house? I've never been. Marcs was less than forthcoming with details.
Love Midnight.'
He banged his fist on the desk; the contents bounced before landing scattered. He screwed the piece of paper in his hands and threw it across the room. Anger coursed through his veins. Leaning back he took a calming breath and closed his eyes. Then walked across the room and picked up the paper, placed it in his pocket. He walked over to the decanter and filled a glass with whisky. He threw back the glass in one go.
"I'll get that blue haired bitch."