baby swappers (working title lol)

Chap'rrr Six

Arlot was stinging from his interaction. He truly liked and respected Mr Black, thought what he did proved a good heart and had hoped that they'd had mutual something towards one another. It was on his mind as the Agency car flew him back into the city. Agnes Black. How had he forgotten? Or maybe it wasn't truly that he had forgotten, but buried it deep on the back of his mind in the hope of it never being dredged up again.

He had been young when he knew Agnes, nearly twenty, a dedicated and hopeful magical person, in line to join the Agency and create a fairer world for everyone. Agnes had been young too, and they had met at a gathering for empowering magical kind and done what all young people did and fallen in love. But knowing Agnes wasn't safe – she lived almost in hiding, fearful of her unusual and dangerous powers being discovered

Back then Chrole had been a place for the magics to be wary, although their population was higher than that of the pure blooded humans, they had been crammed into the cheapest houses and back alleys, had their own bars and shops, secret markets... to be a human was to be safe. Young Arlot had wanted to change all that, an intelligent man with ideas about equality and peace, he was set to go into a job at the Agency – but knowing Agnes was a risk. When the fires came, it was almost a relief, a fresh start for him. And now he was on the board, pushing through the important changes. Chrole City was now a good place for everybody, had forged the way for others in its wake, and held the Agency for the Goverened Lands.

Arlot wiped his glasses on his shirt, and glanced out of the window as they approached the city. In the distance, coming from the East were several great shadows, moving towards Chrole. Arlot frowned and placed his glasses back on the end of his nose, peering out. He motioned towards them, indicating to the driver. "What is that?"

"I couldn't tell you, sir, looks like ships to me." The driver shrugged, put the car down a gear and began their descent onto the cobbled city roads. The ships were moving slowly, not yet in the city perimeter, and flew high above the legal flight limits, barely skating the clouds.

"Strange," Arlot muttered, almost to himself. There were legal restrictions on vehicles allowed into the city, and ships only allowed down one specific berth that came upriver from ocean docks ten miles away. He searched for a mark, the purple flower behind the ATGL lettering, the symbol of a certified shipment, something approved by Chrole City, but then the car bounced back down onto the ground and the ships were hidden by the elegant yellow stone buildings of the inner city.

"Shortcut today sir- you have some important meeting to attend." The driver called back to him, and then swerved a sharp left and under a foot bridge, along a road so narrow the car barely scraped down it. They pulled up with a screech outside the back of the main agency building, where a fierce looking woman with almost floor length fiery red hair was waiting for him. Amelia Frank, who helped out part time with specialised cases, but owned a music shop in the city otherwise.

"Mr Borge, the ladies are waiting for you,"

She was the kind of woman who walked and talked at the same time – a woman with places to be. He hurried after her, straight through the building and back out onto the street on the other side, where he a huddle of young women sat outside the medical centre with Jenny.

"There has been a request out for these women to not have to appear in the judges court tomorrow – understandably, I think – so they are here to talk to you now." She had a deep voice and a beautiful smile, and if Arlot wasn't so caught up with work he might have fancied her.

"This is Arlot Borge, girls, and he is here to help you." Some of the girls looked to Jenny anxiously, other murmured to one another. A few were staring dead-eyed at the road. He now recognized them from the day they raided the Elefry's – these were the Nurses there. Although they now looked in better health, and no longer in the drab uniform, he could still see the greyed skin, the dull eyes of these girls who had had their spirits broken.