The Lost Scribe of Justitia

The Stop Over

They stood in front of the completed work, Petrich, hands in pockets, his expression reflecting his solemn mood. Dietfried stood beside him, arms crossed, mouth open in wonder.
"How does it feel, finishing such a piece?"
Dietfried asked, "I should think jubilation."
Petrich nodded. "An accomplishment, yes. But it's alive, you see. And it only knows my presence. My touch. I brought it into existence and now I have to let it go. I can't help but feel profound loss."
Dietfried looked at him. "How many of your kind have been institutionalized, my boy?" he asked in his most sincere tone. "How many called celestial scribes?"
"Sir Barnabas never spoke of it."
"Perhaps that is for the best." Dietfried replied.
"Yes. ." Petrich agreed.
            The upcoming Rykindella Grand Showing was announced through word of mouth, by personal invitation, as well as by newspaper.  Only royal weddings were on par with a Grand Showing.  It had been known for some high profile weddings and coming out balls to be postponed for such an event.
A Grand Showing at the Rykindella estate was no exception. Duchess Amelia was sparing no expense and the guest list was vast.
"Ugh," Dietfried grunted plaintively, upon receiving the embossed invitation, "The one of many problems with Amelia is how she lives for drama SO much, she is libel to invite such notorious rivals just for a fine show. I am quite positive she's wrangled every Woxlichen scribe to be there just to show them up. Are you prepared to. . . what is the term you young ones use? 'Get Scrappy'?"
Petrich shook his head. "If they want trouble, it is them with me, not I with them."
"Hmmm. We shall see, won't we? At least your 'scrapping' fellows will be at your side."
"No, they will not." Petrich corrected him, a little disheartened.
"What?! But didn't you invite them?"
"Yes, I did. Both Henrique and Frederick were not going to be able to come. I think they are distancing themselves from me."
Dietfried was livid. "In the name of all known gods, why??"
Petrich sighed, then shrugged. "I have the notion that High Master Sir Reginald might have something to do with it."
"That rat bastard. . ."
"It's only a notion. No proof."
"He's done great wrong to you, Petrich. One can not just let it go, you know."
"At the moment, that is all I can do. I have far greater issues than Sir Reggie, right now."
Dietfried, after a moment, had to agree.
Petrich boarded the train to return to Rykindella estate the next day, wanting time to disembark in Dresgorn to meet with Fitz.
Petrich wondered how much it would actually take to talk her into attending the Grand Showing with him. He couldn't quite articulate why it was important that she accept the invitation. As far as her investigation, surely she'd need to see people, although it would be neither the time nor the place to put anyone under arrest.
Perhaps he wanted her there because she seemed an outlier, just like himself.  But then again, that was only an assumption. She might not be what he expected at all. What was it he expected of her, anyway?
Petrich was still asking himself this when the train pulled into the depot of Dresgorn to find her waiting for him.