The Lost Scribe of Justitia

The Rykindella Commission

Commission proposals were accomplished one of two ways. Most, especially those involving two kingdoms, were proclaimed at an announcement ceremony. These parties weren't as high brow as Grand Showings, but still considered quite fancy.
The other path of commission proposal was a private meeting with the commissioner at their residence. Petrich Hollenburg had never heard of a proposal made at the observatory itself, but the Grand Duchess of Rykindella apparently decided this as the best choice for her commission proposal.

(The Grand Duchess Amelia of Rykindella)

      The duchess had just lit a cigarette when Petrich Hollenburg entered the great study featuring a breathtaking view of the snow capped mountains of Astrea.  She did not bother to rise out of the great leather chair where she lounged with her long slim legs elegantly crossed. For a woman in her mid-50's, the Grand Duchess Amelia was stunning, and she was clever enough to use it to her advantage.
        "Petrich Ivan Hollenburg," she purred casually, as he bowed respectfully.  A smooth, curling stream of smoke escaped her lips. "Now, tell me why it is that we have never crossed paths before?"
         Petrich already knew the answer to her question.  The Rykindella family had well known connections to the Woxlichen observatory, and, therefore, made commission proposals with the Woxlichen scribes only. This planted the Duchess and someone like Petrich in vastly different social circles. 
          She continued to smoke her cigarette, her smug cat eyes boldly roaming from his face and down the length of his body, apparently appreciating what she saw.   Petrich knew aristocrats like her. They loved playing games with those socially beneath them, just to watch them squirm uncomfortably. Petrich refused to squirm in front of anybody, no matter where they sat on the social ladder.
         He gazed at her grinning, hands clasped easily behind his back.  "Perhaps it was only a matter of time,  Your Grace, for now we have."
          Duchess Amelia offered him a cigarette from a dainty jeweled case.  Petrich, although, not an avid smoker, took one out of the social nicety and leaned close to her so that she could light it. Her eyes never left his face.
           "I did not imagine you so. . .hmmm.  Handsome isn't quite the word, is it? Yet, no other word comes to mind. Striking, perhaps?"
          Petrich chuckled then said, "Mmm. Yes. My face is a never-failing source of wonder to me."
           "It's your eyes and your mouth. They work together in such an interesting way. I have no doubt you are kept VERY busy at Grand Showings."
            Well, the Duchess was not wrong, so Petrich offered no further comment.  He moved to the nearby wet bar. "Can I offer you a drink, Your Grace?"
         "Yes, you may.  I am not accustomed to the cooler air at this height. Something to warm up my blood, Mr. Hollenburg."
        Petrich poured them both a bourbon and brought it to her. "Which only heightens my curiosity of you seeking me out.  To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, seating himself in an identical leather chair facing her.
         Duchess Amelia took her drink gratefully. "I wish to hire you for a birth document."
Petrich took a drink, then replied with a simple, "How very interesting, Your Grace."
"Do you think so?" She did not say it as if offended. Apparently she knew this situation was as highly irregular as he did, but just wanted him to verbalize it.  Her challenge did not shake him.
       "To travel so far from your Rykindella estate where the climate is far more agreeable  this time of year.  This alone is, well. . . suspect, if you forgive me, Your Grace."
       Her smile was seductive. "Please, continue, Mr. Hollenburg. I promise to forgive all."
       Petrich may have felt emboldened, yet he kept his tread light. "It is well known that great linages in that region, such as Rykindella, have their ties to those of the Woxlichen guild for such commissions."
         Duchess Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. "A load of pompous, self-righteous asses. Even my husband's grand nephew. . . ESPECIALLY my husband's grand nephew."
She lifted her glass and finished her bourbon. She held the empty glass out to Petrich as he immediately fetched the bourbon decanter.
"Only a bit more, Mr. Hollenburg."
         Petrich obliged and poured a bit more for himself. 
          "Besides," she continued, "For this document, I want the commission to go to someone every Woxlichen scribe claims to be, but none actually are." The duchess then laughed. "Besides the claim of being pure and virginal. The lying little bastards."
           Petrich snorted a laugh, but said nothing, rather enjoying her bourbon fueled rant.
      Duchess Amelia leaned forward. "When I am not the subject of conversation, Mr. Hollenburg, best believe, I am listening closely for who is.  There are rumors swirling about you. Did you know that?"
    Petrich did not agree nor deny. "Illuminate me, Your Grace." he replied easily.
          "Well, they certainly are not about purity, given talk of particular Grand Showings. It is no secret that Justitia boys are no strangers to a bit of debauchery now and again." The duchess paused to light another cigarette. "No, the rumors involve you being a truly 'called' scribe, or what the pompous asses in Woxlichen like to call a 'High Mystic', as if any of  THEM could possibly be one."
          Petrich said nothing, only sipped his bourbon and watched her.
        "What is it one has to do for the truth of this matter?" she asked.
        Instead of answering her question, Petrich asked his own. "Tell me, Your Grace, what birth document warrants the need of such a scribe who may or may not exist?"
         The duchess relaxed back in her chair. "Fair enough." she replied, her voice taking on an irritable tone. "My daughter-in-law has yet to give birth, but there is question of  true parentage.  She tends to find herself appearing far too cozy with her cousin, the Earl of Lutzinheim.   I've warned my son of this when she caught his eye when they were barely teenagers, but he's always been a hopeless romantic and would not listen to reason."
        "And you are certain a 'called' scribe can find the truth through a celestial birth document." said Petrich.
        "Well, how could anyone blame me? This will be the heir of a vast fortune. The fortune MY marriage into the Rykindella made possible. I will do whatever it takes to protect the inheritance. I only ask assurance that this is a TRUE heir to the Rykindella legacy."
Petrich merely looked at her. "And if it is not?"
The duchess looked away, considering the beautiful view out the window. "That would be none of your concern, Mr. Hollenburg."
Petrich rose from his chair, his left hand in his trouser pocket, his right holding his whiskey glass. He casually walked to the great window, keeping his back to the duchess.
"I was no where near being born an aristocrat, Your Grace, but have learned many of the old traditions of the great houses. The great and the vile. I did not want to believe the legal murder of an illegitimate still existed, but apparently it does."
He heard her stand and walk to the window to stand beside him. "I will have you know that I, as a Rykindella, find that statement highly offensive." she said calmly, "But, I am willing to overlook it, if you agree to take this commission and find the answer I seek."
Petrich swirled the last bit of bourbon in his glass then threw the last of it to the back of his throat. "You seem to honestly believe that I was truly 'called' although you base this on no more than idle gossip."
There was a long moment of silence.
"Why have you never taken an assistant, Petrich?" she asked, seemingly on impulse.
It was a question he was not expecting and the answer leaped into his mind before he could control it. A vision burst in his mind's eye. It was a great dark space. . . an attic. . . or just my soul??  And then the vision was gone and slipping quickly out of his memory.
It was the first time he had ever had any sort of premonition involving the assistant question. It left him speechless. After a shocked pause, Petrich felt her hand on his sleeve. He blinked and looked down at her bejeweled hand, as it moved from his arm to his cheek.
"How lonely it must be for a High Mystic."
His eyes shifted to hers. The duchess gave him a pitying smile as she moved closer and touched his mouth in a slow kiss. She then stepped back, watching him pull a white linen handkerchief from his inside breast pocket and touch it to his lips. It came away with a light smudge of her red lipstick.
"I should apologize for that." she said, "If only I regretted it. Please take my commission, Petrich. For the sake of the future of my family. Help me know the truth. And for this, I'll take your rate and triple it, if need be."
Petrich shook his head. "No need for that. Other than the normal rate, I need a promise."
The duchess frowned. "And what promise is that?"
"No matter the outcome, the child will not be harmed in any way. If I suspect otherwise, the truth will be withheld."

(Petrich Hollenburg unamused)

Her frown deepened and her eyes blazed, but Petrich stood his ground, glaring back at her. The duchess lifted her chin in defiance. "Very well. . .Perhaps it will not even be an issue, Mr. Hollenburg."
"Yes. Perhaps it will not."
A written document of a commission agreement was then signed by both the Grand Duchess Amelia and Petrich Hollenburg.
       "Thank you, Petrich. My gratitude to you is only matched by my great interest in having you visit my estate while you work."
       "Of course, Your Grace. I'll be awaiting your summons."
        The Duchess Amelia of Rykindella took her leave, driven away in the back of a luxury sedan down the long and winding roads down the mountain.
       Petrich then could do nothing until the birthdate of a baby whose fate rested in his  hands. For the first time in his life, Petrich resented being what he was.