SERAVEL ROVODIA, the son of the tyrant Fire Potentate, is a model citizen of all sorts. Obedient, punctual, and most of all, silent. When his friend and long-time confidante gets arrested for alleged sacrilege against the administration, Seravel sta...
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2407 Xavem 13, Daleth
Sera was coming to the court hall when he heard a loud crash and the Potentate's strained voice yelling inside.
"There's no way anyone will answer that!" his father was saying. Sera tucked his smile behind a clenched fist, disguising it as an oncoming cough. "You useless people tell the soldiers to stay on guard. Limit the number of people that can be seen in public. Flog all those who disobey. Watch the streets for anyone peddling illegal content. I want these clerets gone!"
Sera choked at the last sentence, his saliva going back the wrong way. He might be running late to this particular council meeting about passing an edict about the ban of oshella sticks in public, but he was glad he was. It looked like the poor Advisers of the Cabinet spent the first few minutes of the assembly listening to the Potentate throw a tantrum.
Darmer had been right. Since Blazes had joined the team, the mechanic had realized they needed more writers for their content to not rely solely on Sera. "It's like building our own print media company," he told Sera yesterday. "Imagine the Daily Torch, but this one, it'll be commissioned by the people. What do you say?"
Sera had endless amounts of reasoning against that idea but Blazes had popped up from behind the printing machine and exclaimed, "That's a good idea!" Her voice might have been heard to a sprite with similar ears as hers. "I would love to go head to head with the Daily Torch. Seriously, those insects can suck it."
Sera winced at the vulgar language she and Darmer use. A little bit more time and he would be cussing like them. That's going to be one of the things he had to hide while being in the palace. Still, it wasn't like he could put a stop to Darmer's idea now that Blazes was in on it. Perhaps, Darmer had brought another person in as a tie-breaker and someone who rode with all his antics. Maybe. Maybe not.
So, without having much of a choice, they dedicated today's print in presenting a puzzle that contained a clue where to send their entries to provide Sera and the others an example of how they write. Sera had feared the soldiers would raid the drop-off place or even stalk the place for people who appeared to be dropping something. Darmer had played it off, saying, "Bet ya fifty grena those fools in the Palace wouldn't get it."
As Sera ducked inside the meeting hall, he noticed a couple of Advisers hunched over a copy of the print, scratching their heads. For people who could find any loophole in the Law for their own favor, they sure couldn't solve themselves a pair of riddles. Other advisers were prancing about, muttering to themselves the lines of the riddles.
The Fire Potentate, himself, sat in a rigid stance on his seat, eyes scanning the ongoing chatter fest. He didn't look happy. The lines on his face etched deeper, his fists squeezed the armrests like he was determined to tear them off. Sera dropped into his usual seat and made a show of looking around like he didn't know what was going on. After a while, he laid the stack of ethics and law copies he had procured from the inventory. It would be his job to take notes and finalize the changes in the law in this meeting.
