Saviour of Neither

3 - Invitation

The sparrows are littered round my feet, randomly pecking at the seeds I've scattered on the floor.

I quite like sparrows: with mottled plumage, loud chirps and sociable natures, what's not to like? There are other more beautiful birds out there, but all of them are native to Ceatha Tor and are good at sensing magic.

It's been four months since Chester Morgan paid a visit over a lost and snapped sword; we're approaching autumn. I'm probably right; there has not even been a hint of contact between the two of us. Which, to be honest, is something I'm absolutely fine with, though my thoughts cross him more often than they probably should.

In the meantime, there's been a few more developments going on in Ceatha in general. Some Menias were found to have infiltrated the Angel's Court in early summer, and have since been guillotined; and a last week the news reached Hilsbury that Kingsley Wordsworth, Chief of Military Operations, has resigned from his position due to old age.

It's a shame, really, because he was a massive inspiration to our people; brave, compassionate, and open-minded. There is a whole host of warriors vying for the empty spot, most notably two of the Vergangan Three: three triplets from here who were all born during Storm Vergange, which had wrecked infrastructure across Ceatha Tor.

From a personal perspective, I have since completed the hat, made a pair of curtains after I burnt away the last pair, and began on a new project of a pair of slippers, have added an additional charm to my gloves to protect them from dusting, and my hands have now resorted to acid to express frustration.

So that's what I'll sort out once I return to the hut, though no doubt I'll have to sort out something else by the turn of the year. More worrying are the attacks, which are beginning to increase in frequency.

The sparrows eventually have their fill, and flitter away, vanishing into the surrounding trees, whose leaves are visibly browner. I smile to myself and begin to head out of the forest.

Perhaps I can take a detour to pass by her house.

I wonder if Solomon's found out about the additional charm on Henshaw. Actually, scrap that; he definitely has. The Chief Paladin's infamous for being impossible to fool.

Shaking the thought, I continue to wander through a well-beaten path of ferns and heathers and whatever else, my feet relying on muscle memory alone-

Why is there another crowd outside my workshop again?

And not just nearby; they're crowded around my doorstep, sound a lot more anguished than they did four months ago, and one of them is pounding on my door.

What's happened this time!?

"Would you mind not trying to barge down my door?" I snap wearily, drawing everyone's attention. "What's-"

I don't even get to finish the sentence before I am interrupted by Zantham Cavendish, looking the most frazzled of all.

"His Majesty Solomon Morgan has sent for you to be brought to his castle!" he shouts, almost directly in my face. "The carriage is in the Main Street; hurry as much as you can!"

What?

"Why on earth would-?"

"There is no time to explain!" Zantham almost reaches to grab me; it takes everything I can to stop myself from burning him to a crisp. "Go now!"

My brain finally processes the fact that I'm bring called away, and probably for a while - Chief Solomon would not call someone to say hello.

"I need to pack." I say, trying to barge through the frantic crowd, ignoring Zantham's shouts of 'The Chief does not like being kept waiting!'