In the Valley of a Thousand Footprints

[ii] A Promise of Adventure

"Quickfoot doesn't sound like a real name, does it?" asked Dyfri.

No, Efa thought, its because it isn't a name. My parents; whoever they were, never gave me a family name. Thanks the Gods you don't know this Dyfri.

"Oh wait. I know. its probably a title or something." The boy suggested.

"Maybe so," said Efa shakily, "here how about this, you give me the letter and I'll—I'll deal w-with it."

"Really? Thanks. I honestly don't want to get mixed up with any royals."

She snatched the letter a little too eagerly and told him that he could go home for the day. After shooing him off, she ran back up to the second floor, across the landing and up a ladder into the attic in the roof.

Her hands were shaking as she examined the envelope. It was of extremely high quality, the paper felt smooth and delicate. It even smelled nice. The scarlet wax seal had been imprinted in a perfect circle and the emblem on the seal was intricate and unfamiliar. She turned it around and noticed the writing. 'To Miss Quickfoot.' It was for her. No one else could possibly be called Quickfoot.

A name given to her by Pagnodd after she had joined the post company at age seven, he had said that no one but the best could deliver three postmen worth of letters, on their own, in a single day, To those who can, he gave the name quickfoot. She ended up liking the name and due to the absence of her actual second name had started introducing herself as Efa Quickfoot to anyone who asked. Most of the older people in town knew her as such, but not any of the younger generation, which was probably why Dyfri didn't know that the letter had pertained to her. 

She bent down and pulled out her letter opener from the side of her boot. It was a small, impeccably thin blade with a keen edge. She kept it parallel to the envelope flap and in a clean stroke, had the scarlet seal opened. Inside was a piece of parchment, folded in half. She extricated it from the depths of the envelope and began to read. 

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                       I am writing to you thus in relation to your prowess as an officer of the Dyffryn o aur post company, of which Pagnodd has made no small mention of. He states, repeatedly, that you are trustable and clever, and as your name implies, quick on you feet. We are in desperate need of a person of your talents                                                                     
                      Let me explain. There has been trouble brewing, very slowly, for a long while now. The Magai records have come under much internalized fighting and many magi federations and covens have broken off from the central Ifraeygerian empire. You do not know this and you probably know not about that which I speak, and that is fine for now. But know this, not many can come under the appreciation of Pagnodd. Or if we are to use his real name, Pagnodealius Kwyniad, former right hand to king Cynyyfiwyan. This may come as a shock to you but it is about time you knew the truth. To be recognized by Pagnodd is an honor, and so, as such, we have a proposal to make: join us in our mission, be our royal messenger.                                                                                           While I'm sure this is sudden and confusing and You know not who we are, I assure you that our objective has always been to bring about stability and order to our world. Magic is not a bad thing, but it has been the catalytic reasoning by which our kingdoms teeter on the edge of prosperity and internalized warfare, and day by day it seems to be moving towards the latter.             
                         We believe that you can help us change this. We invite you to be a part of our group. A group of people who will stop at nothing to protect our kingdom from others and from itself.                               If you make up your mind, head to Magnai palace, in Targarth; home to the fae, locate the Magical anomaly and dissipate it. doing so will lead you to us. We await your presence with eagerness.