Amelia appeared briskly on the doorstep of the Omill Temple's Truth Station, clutching the documents she had previously retrieved. It wasn't the first time she'd brought dispatches here.
But these appointment papers...
What position would she be appointed to here? What would she do? Courier again? Translate? Dealing with conflict situations? Search for missing people and property? Escort valuable packages?
Because of her limited knowledge of the language, she couldn't work with the people here. Much to her relief. But as for the other things, she was good enough at her previous job...
Well. There's only one way to find out. And soon everything would be clear.
She walked confidently towards the Secretary's cabin, out of habit from previous visits... And suddenly, before she even realised what was happening, her body bounced a decent distance away from... something. Something dangerous.
It was good timing, though.
A wave of barely bearable heat passed by the dazed servicewoman. Mentally thanking her good reflexes, she looked in surprise at the source of the danger, next to which, without any apparent discomfort, Truth Station Chief Milo walked hurriedly with a concerned look on his face, obviously trying to explain something.
And surprisingly, her potential killer wasn't some kind of fierce-looking villain who had taken over the Truth Station, but a graceful, slender, short figure in the uniform of the Temple Witches.
What a fascinating beginning...
— It's not just our reputation that's been damaged, it's my people who have suffered, don't forget that! — an angry retort filled the air and ears.
How could anyone possibly forget something that had been presented in such a murderously extraordinary way?
The refined witch, the source of the searing aura, raised his long, pale forefinger in a sharp warning and gave the interlocutor a piercing look with his frighteningly bright blue eyes.
— My people are making every effort to get to the bottom of it. And you know it.
Milo tried to put maximum conviction into his words.
Not the best time to pester the boss with your petty affairs. It's not the best time to be here myself... when your instincts are screaming "Run! Hide! Run, run, run..."
"We can't run, we're here on business".
"Then... hide? Maybe hide? Or freeze. Freeze, don't move... Oh no, get back!"
Amelia wasn't a coward. She had been in many dangerous situations during her service. But there's always something frightening about dealing with raging witches. No matter how much training you've had in your home department and how many techniques you've learnt.
It was good practice, but it was not about "coming from behind", "sneaking up", "stunning", but "retreating quietly" and "hiding quickly".
Nature's forces stay striking nature's forces. And Milo is definitely in a bad place right now.
Reflexively, the servicewoman took up a more or less safe position in the improvised shelter near the exit and cast an appraising glance at the ominous witch.
She... knew him. His name was... his name was Finnian. Right. He's a Head Witch of the Omill Temples Witchery.
Ami had seen him a few times, delivering documents to the Chief of the Omill Temples and picking up what needed to be delivered to their Office of Order and the Kantine Temples in general.
And... a creature of such cold, inhuman beauty that emanated a powerful sense of power, such a combination was almost impossible to forget, she had to say. It leaves a kind of icy scar on the soul, as if from a collision with something incomprehensible and unattainable.
And his image was somehow toxic and irreversibly embedded in the memory. Only the proverbial amnesia could help with that.
As the dangerous couple moved past the frozen "don't mind my presence" Kantinian militiawoman towards the exit, without even noticing her, she was less and less inclined to the "run and hide" plan of action.
Just in case, she made one more cautious step aside, unconsciously sighing with relief. And found herself involuntarily pulling her head into her shoulders...
...and noticed the edge of the fabric of her documents began to smoulder!
Slightly shocked by the new unexpected extreme situation, the servicewoman quickly looked around for a remedy to the sudden affliction. A dark-haired man in a Truth officer uniform was holding a cup of greenish liquid.
Amelia quickly dipped the ready-to-flame edges of her document into his cloth-saving coffee.
The Omillian raised his surprised gaze to her with a puzzled look of silent disapproval.
— I'm terribly sorry! — Ami quickly gave him her most guilty look. — That bog witch set fire to my service cloths!
She quickly showed her interlocutor the burnt documents to justify her actions, noting with annoyance the greenish liquid dripping from them.
The only good thing about the situation was that she remembered the foreign language so quickly that she didn't realise it.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone fixing a problem with the entrance curtain. It was an impenetrable, fireproof, specially reinforced curtain made of special materials.
What in the ghoul's life is going on here?!
— Why not cool them down, but extinguish them in such a spectacular way?— Fortunately, the officer wasn't cross with her, just curious.
But he already knew the answer. The accent and the telltale pauses, searching for the right word, gave it away immediately.
— I didn't see a quicker alternative... I'm really very sorry. Can I at least wash your cup?
— It's quite all right, — he said nonchalantly, sipping his drink as if nothing had happened. — — Mmm. Smoky... Don't worry. By the way, you could have asked me to extinguish the document.
— I'm subconsciously sure that if I can't do something, no one can. And I'm extremely rarely surrounded by extinguishing witches.
Ami felt colour creep into her face.
Yes, this was definitely not the best way to make a first impression when meeting someone you might be working with.
But... this wasn't the first impression. She had met him before too.
Funny thing. She knew a lot of people here, but no one in particular.
— And I think I've seen you here a few times before, — the new acquaintance blinked peacefully. — I'm Davin. Or just Dave. I work here.
— Ami. You'll see more of me lately. Perhaps. Watch your feet and coffee. Clumsiness and awkwardness are my best friends. And there's a chance that the three of us will be working here soon.
— I see.
— Look… — Amelia really wanted to change the subject. — Do... Do you get this sort of thing here often?
— Visits from Finnian? — The officer smiled. — Fortunately not... But at least it's not boring.
— That's a mild way of putting it… — Amelia frowned in displeasure. — I was lucky to have your cup nearby.
— Feel free to call on me and my cup for help. Finnian's visits are a serious test for all the Station's furniture. And sometimes people. But... he's a good sort.
Dave gave a friendly wink and waddled off up to the second floor.
The servicewoman saw him off and exhaled in relief again. Such a nice bloke. If everyone here was like that, it would be a lot easier to work.
If she were unlucky enough to find herself in a similar situation in Kantene, she could expect a coffee shower, insults and lectures about her low intelligence level. People here are less picky and more easily offended. The abundance of passive aggression in relationships tells them that they were definitely meant to be insulted.
Yes, it's not easy to be clumsy and daft, but it seems easier to be daft anywhere away from home. Poor locals would have to...
"Focus."
Damn right. We have a job to do.
With a determined exhale, Amelia shook the liquid from her wet papers and made her way back to the Secretary's cabin. Without any deadly obstacles.
Anyway, this place isn't boring indeed.
— It's a bit noisy... And hot, — she began, trying to put the damaged documents on the small shelf behind the Secretary's window as nonchalantly as possible.
— Yes. A bit fussy, I'd say, — the Secretary accepted the poor cloth with the same expression.
It seems she's seen more weird things during her time here.
What other oddities could she have encountered in her professional life? It's frightening to even think about.
Fighting back a silly giggle, Amelia looked away.
— Spiced with the smell of coffee and biscuits, — the Kantinian smiled and tried to make eye contact again.
She managed to say something positive.
It's a standard for the locals and she'll have to learn this skill if she wants to stay here and not stand out too much by neglecting the rules of good manners according to her bad traditions.
In Ami's case, it's practically impossible. But at least let her try.
— Yes. Sometimes we don't even know if this is a café or the Truth Department, — agreed the service lady on the other side of the window. — I think it's time we stopped fooling ourselves and other people.
— I'm Amelia. From the Kantine Temple Department of Order. You may know me as a courier. But now I have been sent on an exchange programme.
— Ah! I remember you, — the station secretary nodded happily. — We haven't had a chance to get acquainted because of your habit of mumbling something, almost literally throwing the documents into the Archive and hurrying away. I'm Lucille. Or just Lucy.
— My social skills are brilliant, — Ami smiled sheepishly. — Glad we finally talked.
— And you appeared to be a nice one. So. You plan to work here? — Lucy leafed through the documents businesslike. — Then... soon you'll have a great opportunity to mumble from the other side of the window. And less talkativeness is better, if you like. The fewer people in the way of your work, the better.
— Am I interrupting your work? — Amelia was embarrassed again. — Oh, I'm sorry... Or... I... What?! I don't want to believe... Please don't tell me you mean... I have to work... in this window?!
The Kantinian raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
The Omillian chuckled slightly.
— What's wrong with a window? It's a decent place for a Secretary. That's why you came here, isn't it? According to these assignment documents.
— ...I never read. Because I'm here to escape the Fertility Festival… Oh my gnats! From under the scorching suns into the fire... Literally. Swamp it! Wait a moment… Let me process it… a Secretary!..
— Exactly, — Lucille confirmed, still not understanding the reason for the confusion. — And... aren't you... a Secretary?
Ami was taken aback.
She had a huge and growing desire to sit down on the floor with her bags and try to digest what she had heard.
It wouldn't hurt to take the bags off anyway. It might make things a little easier.
But only a little. She knew it would be like that! And now it was over before it had even begun.
Hello again, Ami's bog luck. Definitely nothing to be surprised about.
— No... I had to read those clothes, but I was... in a hurry. The Chiefment didn't give me any details because... it's not nice to reveal the sins of your Department, but otherwise the blame will fall on me... In short, they've once again kicked a case that doesn't directly affect our city down the road. And frankly, I don't understand how they even remembered it...
— We asked them directly if they were going to take part in the programme or if they were going to put off answering forever.
— Ah. That explains a lot... So... there's an answer.
— And... it's 'no'?
"It's rotten pokers!"
Ami snorted annoyingly.
— The Fertility Festival. Remember? No surrender, no retreat. No choice.
Blood rushed to her cheeks. She continued angrily.
— Look… I'm... an operative. An enforcer. An escort... But by no means a Secretary.
The chronically misfortuned Kantinian exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down.
"Wait. Maybe there's an option? Perhaps we can ask for another job? We have to try, we just have to."
Then she added with a snigger:
— You wouldn't be able to work in Kantene either... My bosses just ignored the details, as usual. I'll explain… Our Secretary won't give up his seat to anyone. He doesn't allow anyone to manage his Archives, and even seals them when he's off. "So that no mischief can be done here".
— Oh, I totally understand him! I feel the same way, sometimes I can't go into my room after a festival - there are piles of plates on the floor, adding up to work for a small cycle. Ah... Oh, my!
Lucille suddenly sounded horrified. — I'm the one who has to do the operational work now?! That would be… very weird. I'm not cut out for it. I don't really like unnecessary fuss and bustle... even avoiding the Temple's combat training in Moki's company. It's just not necessary... It's pretty quiet in Omill. That creepy, traumatising stuff will never come in handy here.
It seems that neither of them wanted to be in the other's shoes.
— Oh, don't worry, — the Kantinian operative brushed it off. — The same goes for our city. There's no more serious business than someone stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere or got in a tavern brawl. And there's a lot of Order people ready to deal with it. Some even think it's... fun.
— Fun?!
— Don't look at me. I don't find anything funny about it either.
— Oh, neat, — Lucy smiled sympathetically.
— And I haven't done anything more dangerous than counting caravan sacks and inspecting trampled fields. The most exciting thing was chasing a crazy townswoman through the woods after she escaped from Temple Hospital. Everything there is boring... and boring.
— But reassuring, — exhaled the Archivist. — The crazy townswoman doesn't inspire much confidence, though.
— The others can do it. She was unarmed and only a danger to herself anyway. The most important job will be to be the judge in a dispute between a couple of pissed-off townsfolk - whose vegetables are bigger. Well, you know Kantine.
Lucy nodded happily.
— I know Kantine. I have relatives there. I used to go there on festivals when I was young. Vegetable fights a timeless Kantinian classic. And nothing has changed, as I see.
— Yes. They're stupidly true to their traditions.
The women fell into thoughtful silence for a moment.
— Well... if you refuse, then I won't have to do any of this anyway, — the Omillian looked at her interlocutor questioningly. — As I understand it, I wouldn't see my relatives. That's too bad. I miss them.
— This is the hardest decision I've ever had to make, Lucy. I really don't want to see *my* relatives. At least for a while, — Ami grinned bitterly. — So we come here with our bags and head back to Cantine with them. I suspected something like this would happen... Show me the good life and quickly slam the door in my face. Not surprised, though.
— Fine. I gravitate towards operational work either.
— It's a really bad idea, indeed. Not talking about me losing my skills and patience here... — Ami shook her hands nervously. — With my level of Omillian... Yes, I can understand what's written much better than what's said, I can work with documents a bit. A little. Because I can't say that I understand a lot in general. And I'm only a reader here, because as a non-witch I write on cloth and have no idea how to burn the text on the tablets like you do.
— I don't think you'll have to do much writing yourself... But you have to keep a journal. What we are doing here is more like compiling and cataloguing what someone else has already written. And here are the spines on every tablet. Read them if you're lost. Your language skills are quite good for a Kantinian, I must say... My auntie doesn't know a word in Omillian.
— And even incredibly proud of it, I'm sure.
The secretary chuckled.
— Yes. That's why I need to know your language. It's for my own good, you know. I don't want to find myself helpless in a foreign city.
— That's a good point. I wish my people were at least half-conscious like that. But it's easier to pass off laziness or stupidity as love for the city.
— Well... they're too busy tending their fields.
— Yes. Big muscles, small brains, lots of problems to deal with because of two previous treats, no time to learn. I don't blame them for being the way they are.
— Actually, you do! — Lucy chuckled. — So... how did you learn the Omillian? And why? Did you live in Omill? Or visit your relatives here?
— If only I had a family here... I would already be your colleague. I learned the language almost by accident from books I found. Then I practised a bit during my work trips. Because I wanted to get away from my Kantine relatives. It's… a long story. There's nothing complicated about Omillian and Primish, in my opinion. The most complicated thing is to find non-agricultural books in Kantene.
— Look. Milo's back. Just in time, — Lucy pointed to the entrance.
— Alive and in one piece... Surprising. — Ami commented after a Head of the Truth Department walked by.
— Are you talking about his little row with Finnian? Yes. I'm always amazed at how he does it, but he always does it. He's a real diplomatic genius.
Secretary waved to the Head of the Temple Complex's Truth Squad returning to his office.
As he approached, Ami noticed that the edges of this Head's hat were slightly darkened. But it was unclear if this was happening to them now or if such incidents were commonplace for Milo and his headdress.
— Would he even bother about my problems in a state like this? — Amelia frowned.
— Of course he would. This situation is habitual for him. And an exchange is also an important matter for our Temple Chiefment. Let's go.
Amelia left her heavy bags near the Archive and followed the secretary with an inner shudder.
Lucy took the stupidly standing guest by the hand, led her to a Сhief's office, made some sort of quick gesture and, after a moment of waiting, entered, dragging Amelia inside.
— Milo! — Lucy addressed him as soon as they entered. — Meet our guest. The replacement from the Kantine. Amelia. And she wants to go back already.
— Because of Finnian? — The Omillian sighed wearily. — He didn't...
— No, — the Secretary shook her head. — Because of a misunderstanding. No one had explained to Ami what she would be doing here. She's never worked in the Archives before, and she's not sure if she's up to it. And me, she says, I'm going to be an operative in Kantine! That's something I'm not ready for. Physically. I haven't even been running for an Aeon.
Luckily Lucy took on the responsibility of explaining the situation, giving Amelia some time to rest and focus… Then nodded to the boss and left the office.
Leaving the Kantinian on her own again.
— I seeeeee... — Milo sighed and scratched his hat thoughtfully after Lucille had left them. — Is it really that bad?
Milo sank down tiredly at his desk.
But he looked even relaxed now, as if this furniture could protect him from all the trouble on the Mainland... Who knows. Maybe it could.
Second most powerful artefact. After his protective hat.
"Focus."
— Are... are we talking about me? — Ami was forced to remember why she was here and why she should speak. — I'm not physically or mentally ready for secretarial work.
— I know you're a courier. I remember you. It's a… similar job. With documents. Soooo... Any suggestions? Coffee?
The Station Master gestured for the visitor to sit down and begin her dismal tale. She did so, panting and struggling to find the right words, to pull them out, to find them among the scattered fragments of thought in her head.
— Thanks... — Ami shook her head negatively, remembering the diuretic properties of the insidious green beverage. — Later…
She was already stressed out, it seemed she would soon have this problem in a natural way. She was about to panic.
The world was already full of surprises, and one more would surely be unnecessary.
— …And they're not similar. — She continued. — I'm... an operative. An enforcer. An escort... And this... This is different! It's about moving around a lot and being a bit of an adrenaline junkie. You see? I'm... not cut out to be a secretary. I definitely... won't survive sitting down. Or your Station won't...
Her cheeks blushed even more than before, which made her more embarrassed and blushed even more... This cycle never ends.
Amelia made a mad, desperate gesture.
— …It's so daft! I mean... It's... Gee! Why does anyone need a foreign Secretary?! So stupid...
She paused, realising that she had just called the leaders of all the Mainland's Temples "stupid".
— Idea's not mine, — peacefully reminded Milo, listening attentively to the confused explanation. — Ask Sandra and others. But I guess that's the point. The Kantinian Secretary has to work with all documents without problems and misunderstandings. We expected your leaders to send someone who knew Omillian. Our Secretary knows Kantinian. If your professions were compatible, it could work.
— I'll tell you something about the viability of the idea in general... You're very lucky to be talking to the Kantinian, you know? And we're talking about my Homelands now, where people are super focused on their fertility and their crops. Sometimes I even think we're speaking different languages. And if you speak in non-Kantinian not about crops… you're just making meaningless, inarticulate sounds to them. That's all.
After her irritated tirade, she paused to catch her breath and find her next words.
Milo listened attentively and did not interrupt.
— So..." the Kantinian continued. — Back to our current case. Yes. We're talking. But my level of knowledge isn't sufficient to work with documents. Or people. I... can understand Omillian. I can read and even write a little. But I can't burn anything on the tablets, that's for sure. I'm not a witch.
Milo nodded thoughtfully.
— Hmm... What can I say? We expected a non-witch to come. We wanted to see if the non-wizards could adapt to working here with us. We assumed also that a witch working side by side with others in the Department of Order would show them we're not hostile or scary and make them change their mind about us and our cooperation. "To improve mutual understanding, to facilitate the exchange of experience and documentation", were the stated aims. I can add that we need to work together to at least be more effective.
— Don't send Finnian to Kantene. — Ami chuckled. — I'm not sure about the hostility... but he's pretty frightening. He will burn the city and come back.
Milo winced.
— You already know him so well. He's not the most cooperative witch on the Mainland. And... the Temples need him, like it or not.
"He clearly doesn't like him. However, he has every reason to do so."
— I… don't know him personally. On second thought, send him. Lucy is too nice for our Lands. I'd feel sorry for her. The Kantian Order Department isn't about cooperation either, and it's much easier to burn them than to deal with them. As for cooperation... There could be no 'mutual understanding' without 'mutual interests' and 'benefits'. Omillians and Kantinians have no common interests. On the contrary. No aliens - no people to be friends against. Our people really like to be "special" and "insulted". Their ground low self-esteem has barely found that excuse, and they can't afford the luxury of giving up their illusion of superiority. Well, Finnian or not, they wouldn't cooperate with foreigners... at least not on a voluntary basis. Co-operation requires a developed mind and normal self-esteem; one tries to understand the others, not to disregard them or to belittle them for imaginary invented shortcomings. Such an ability is extremely rare in our Lands. Observation and research are secondary things here. Kantinian life wasn't that hard in the last great cycles to justify the stupidity, but it feels like they deliberately make things harder. So that they don't have to learn. What was I saying... lose that hope once and for all. It's a hopeless case. They wouldn't grow enough to cooperate in the near Aeon. Hire me as a consultant and expert on Kantine. You'll save a lot of time and effort.
Amelia snorted cheerfully.
Talking about abstract categories, which was her favourite pastime, made her feel a little more at ease.
Milo looked a little embarrassed to hear so many words from someone who was usually so quiet, almost a deaf-mute.
But he didn't look annoyed. That's a good sign. At least he's patient. A rare virtue. Lucy was right about him.
— Well... I see. At least... We still were hoping for some progress... With the other cities on the Mainland.
The Station Chief fell silent in thought.
— It's definitely worth trying with others. Kantine as hopeless as my own situation as its part. At any part, to be true. — Amelia signed. — Somehow I knew it would be a short trip… I hadn't even packed much. I knew I'd be on my way back soon. Not because I didn't want to stay here, I was ready to leave Kantine even for a short time. I just knew something would go wrong… For some reason.
She nodded to herself, staring thoughtfully through the wall into the distance.
Ami was so engrossed in her favourite subject that she forgot her shyness and despair.
— But why are you here then? — Milo furrowed his brow. — Why did you even agree? Omillian bloodlines?
— Not sure about my bloodlines… But hope, maybe? — the service woman confoundedly rubbed her chin. — I'm definitely here because of my family, yes. I wanted to be as far as possible from them. For as long as possible. And… I suppose my interest for the other cities and foreign languages has the same source.
— Oh… — Milo's eyebrows were both raised in surprise now.
— Yesss… — Amelia exhaled. — That's why one can call this situation hopeless. Do you… have another vacancy, by chance?
— I'm afraid, no. Our staff is small and fully staffed, so to say.
Ami sighed heavily.
— Is it… really so gloomy and hopeless? — Station's Chief asked sympathetically. — The Continent is big. You are young. There's a lot of cities. Why not Prime? Or Zeth. We're not talking about Lim, they don't have a clearly dedicated force to maintain order, as far as I know, because they just don't run amok.
Ami made a sharp, angry gesture full of annoyance.
— I've tried! Believe me. Tried a lot, tried this, tried that, tried banging my head against the city's bureaucracy and immigration policy… I've got nothing and nothing, — Amelia frowned bitterly. — Oh, not absolutely nothing, silly me... I've got depression and fatigue. You forget I'm not a witch. And this Continent is no place for someone like me. Unless you don't want to live in Kantine. And I really don't want to… Prime doesn't want me... Lim is too far. And there were no business trips there. It's easier to go to Youlle and settle there, but they won't let me in either... At least my mother didn't succeed there.
— Your mother has been to Youlle?
— Yes and no... I know she went there once, I know she didn't reach the city, I know it's an embittered ghoul now living in our house. That's all I know. Everything in between is gossip.
— Didn't she tell you?
— No. We're not talking for many cycles. If we don't call incoming orders a conversation. I can have that type of conversation at work. In a more respectful way.
— Is your mother also a militia?
— No. She's just malicious… Sorry. She was an explorer and a cartographer. I only learnt that from the notes. When I was younger, I used to hide in the shed from my family. That's when I found her travel notes. I got in a lot of trouble for it, but it was worth it. It changed my whole life. As I said, my family is a real inspiration to learn new languages in the hope of hearing something more pleasant in a foreign language. And to become a vagabond, to see if the whole Mainland is populated by swamp ghouls.
— And. What are the conclusions?
— Not sure yet... I've met some nice people here and in Prime. And the good thing I know a bit of every language now. Nothing at a decent level, but still better than most of the Kantinians. Better than nothing.
— Depending on the level of ambition, this branch will grow with the tree, and the height will never seem sufficient, you know, — the Truthful Chief remarked sternly. — And what about your Secretary? Should they know at least a couple of languages at an average level, enough to get the job done?
— Our Secretary does indeed know a few languages. At a very mediocre level. He has a full-time translator. Who knows enough to get the job done. And neither of them would move anywhere, I'm sure. They have grown into their precious fields.
— I see.
Having lost his last hope for a successful solution to the problem, the Station Chief looked lost in thought.
— So. What now? — the Kantinian interrupted his thoughts impatiently, scratching her wrist nervously.
— I... really don't know, — Milo shifted his sad gaze to the window. — With Prime, we've had a little delay in fulfilling the agreement. They have several secretaries, but they can't spare any right now. That's understandable. Times are hard for them, especially these cycles. We also can't afford the internal chaos of changing secretaries, the need for training and explanations now will only take away our remaining resources and lead to more destabilisation... As I said, we have a small staff, with just enough work for the people we have. Everyone has their own responsibilities, everything is in place and working... I would rely on Zeth, but I guess if we don't get a reasonable answer from here, the programme will be postponed indefinitely until things get better in Prime... Or shut down the entire project... Sadly. Sandra will be really unhappy about this.
The thought obviously made him nervous.
He stood up and walked around the office, taking wide strides as if trying to escape from disturbing thoughts, and returned to his seat.
— A funny thing... is that the Kantinians fulfilled their part of the contract, — he said with a slight, slightly strained smile.
— Crookedly as always. — Amelia scoffed.
— They shared an employee at least. It means something.
— Not a very valuable one, though. You know Kantinians, they're very practical people, and they wouldn't give away anything of value. Those who knew about fertility cycles and types and varieties of vegetables stayed home.
— Good thing local values are slightly different.
— Best thing ever. That's why I want to stay. And it's a shame I have to go back.
The service woman, distracted by the conversation, was overcome by heavy sad thoughts again.
— Well, unless you're willing to try... — Milo, not refusing the chance to somehow solve their common problem, narrowed his eyes slightly. — We can help each other. You don't want to go home. I don't want to bring bad news back to my superiors... They have waited long enough for this programme to start. And they want the results... But of course you can rest in town for now, even if you refuse, and I'll ask the Chief for a place for you to stay. You need to rest. And we'll wait for someone else.
"Oh my ghouls!.."
The service woman exhaled painfully, clutching one hand with the other in a nervous gesture.
Housing in Omill was an incredibly great thing, you know. Even if it's only temporary. Definitely more than nothing and worth coming all the way to Omill. It's a way of celebrating their failure, but away from home, with chic.
This "someone else" sounds paralysing and almost physically painful. Someone more lucky, more capable, and "normal" enough to work with boring documents without a steady wish to tear them apart or smash to the wall almost immediately… She's sooo jealous.
…Oopsie. She bit her gums.
"Whatever. Amelia. Please. Fail again. Disgrace yourself. Die here... But there's no coming back. And no 'someone else'. They don't deserve it. They shouldn't take our place here. There's no people on the whole Mainland who wants to be there more than we do."
Acknowledged. No coming back. Right.
— Yessss... — Amelia hissed and sighed heavily again. — There's no going back... I'm in.
Her voice was heavy and muffled. The air in here seems to be getting heavier because of her growing black inner emptiness. The office began to blur into coloured blobs, but then all her attention was focused on the source of the sound, which was Milo.
— Are you... sure?
— …Yessss. I'm not at all ready for secretarial work... But I'm even less ready to go home now. It's a mockery of my fate what happened, but I'll take it. I'm afraid I won't be an employee of the cycle, but if I accept the appointment, I'll do my best.
She shook her head irritably.
— We're also willing to put in some effort and give you time to adjust. If you're not doing well, we'll ask Lucy to come back. I think the Station can handle a few lights of paperwork downtime. At least we are trying. It's worth it, I think... The old Mainland-wide project deserves it.
The Truth Station Chief's voice betrayed relief. Apparently his boss, Sandra, was a tough woman.
For a moment, a visceral silence hovered in the office.
"Well done, Amelia. Maybe it's the beginning of something good outside of the home city."
Everything is good outside it. And maybe it's the beginning of the end... the beginning of the biggest disgrace of our lives... Or our death from being crushed and suffocated by these boring duties... Or the beginning of nothing, if we're lucky.
"Anyway it's out Kantine".
Definitely.
— Thank you... — Amelia murmured, the full weight of the decision continued to sink in. — I'll get instructions from Lucille right away.
"You will regret it, Milo. Everyone will."
The blood that had long coloured her cheeks began to throb loudly in her ears and pulsate in her temples.
— Do it. Good luck then... And later, if I'm not buried by all this urgent tablet work... which has now increased, I'll fill you in on some of the latest cases and introduce you to our people... But right now I've got a full table of things to do.
Milo sounded exhausted, and a pile on his desk was really impressive.
— Yeah, right… Thanks for your time. And tell me... — Ami stared at her potential boss with a questioning look, feeling a respectful mistrust. — How did that vile witch not burn you? Even the documents in my hands were damaged.
— It's easy. I didn't allow a reaction or even the thought of one. There was no fear or retaliatory anger in me. I was whole, — He drew a ball in the air with his hands as an explanation. — The fire found nothing to hold onto and couldn't get close. In general, the witch's kind of fire is useful because it burns out what's unnecessary.
— Unnecessary non-witch people? And their documents? — Ami asked, a little confused.
— Scared non-witch people with flammable fabrics. — Milo confirmed.
— But how?! Well. Alrighty. Thanks again...
Although his explanation meant nothing to Amelia, she decided not to start her career by pissing off her boss and simply left the office.
There is no guarantee she won't piss him off later. In fact, with her temper, there is a guarantee that it will inevitably happen. And more than once.
…What a mess…
…What a bloody mess…
...I just can't believe it. It's mind-boggling…
She... herself... had just agreed to do the ever-hated dull document work! Practically plunged herself into a quagmire without any help from the side!
If someone had told her this before, she would have laughed. Maybe more than that. Possibly she'd have added a few more harsh words.
Her destiny is good at using sucker punches. For purely pedagogical purposes, of course... but who, pray tell, has come out the better for it.
Ami sighed, picked herself up from the floor, and obediently crept back to the Archivist.
This strange light should be accompanied by strange actions. Trying to learn the basics of the secretarial profession was a semi-functional plan.
The Kantinian stomped a little near the entrance to the realm of the clay tablets.
She tapped the wall near the entrance with the knuckles of her fist as a Kantinian habit, but immediately rubbed her hand and winced in pain.
She had forgotten how she should have been warned about her appearance in Omill... Here we go again.
Luckily for her, while she was standing there, Lucille looked out of the window, noticing movement outside.
— Ah! Come in! — She waved.
Ami obediently made her way into the small room, most of which was taken up by huge shelves containing countless reports, case files and other undoubtedly important documents...
...an overwhelmingly huge amount of information.
Ami is so... small by comparison!
Trying to assess the size of the gigantic filing cabinet and the amount of knowledge it contained, Ami suddenly felt dizzy and sank heavily into the chair Lucy had carefully placed beside her.
The Secretary herself sat down on the top of her desk, shifting the work plates slightly to the side.
— How... How do you get something from the top? — The new Archivist asked in amazement.
— Information from above is rarely used. You can get it from the second level... if you need it. Milo will give you the access gesture to the Upper Vault, — replied the experienced one. — Provided you stay here, of course. You are, aren't you?
Lucy looked at Ami questioningly.
— Yesss… — the Kantinian hissed habitually.
— Good. The Masters have been talking about the importance of this programme for so long that I almost believe it myself.
— Give me a good scare with a message that I need to know what this wall of reports is all about and where everything is, and you'll see me running back to Kantine, terrified and screaming.
— Actually... you do need to know. There's a complex system of cataloguing here. Documents are categorised by activity, by chronology, by geography, by authorship - by the personalities who created them, by the subject to which they relate, by subject, by type of document... — began the secretary cautiously, seeing Amelia's widened eyes. — But wait with horror and screams! As you won't be here for long, you don't need to know everything... Just remember that there are recent cases at the bottom. You'll usually be asked about them. Near the door are reports, in the middle are incidents, by the window is correspondence and the third party documents.
— Only the lower ones... — Ami echoed sceptically, feeling a lump of approaching fear in her throat.
She looked at the seemingly endless shelves and swallowed again.
— Yes, — Lucille cleared her throat and continued. — From time to time, there will be visitors to Milo's and Moki's offices. Don't worry about them, just show them the way to the right office if they hesitate. And you will meet couriers like yourself.
— And envy them.
— You chose the side.
— The darkside… Right.
Lucy thought for a moment. Then she shook her head and continued.
— I don't think I have anything to add at the moment. You see... Nothing is scary here, especially once you get used to it. You can ask me if you have any doubts, I'll leave you my address. It's all so sudden, even if you consider that I've had my travel bag ready for a while. Ever since Prime approved the exchange programme. I'll still have to pack and check everything, but not in your stressful way. I have nothing to run from or to. I'll wait for the caravan to Kantene, because I hate walking and I like to see my luggage not on my back.
— Lucky you. My walk, expected to be joyful, turned into suffering due to a chafed shoulder.
— Sad case.
— Yes. But not so sad compared to participating in a local Festival.
— Alright then… — the acting Secretary frowned in concentration. — Don't be scared. You'll mostly be asked the same questions. And not so often now. Practically the whole team is working on these last weird cases.
— Wow! — Amelia perked up, temporarily forgetting her troubles. — How weird? Really, really weird-weird? Or just... weird?
— Really, really weird... Even the VST is involved, — Lucy confirmed it. — You can read it yourself, by the way. If you're interested in such things, this job might not be so boring for you.
— This is much more interesting! I really wish I was on the investigating side… But who cares. Pray continue.
— Well, anyway... You'll see Kyle soon by yourself, when he's back from Prime, rested and with more information on the case. We're lucky to have him and not one of those arrogant VST nerds who interact with local life forms strictly according to protocol. He's as nice and simple as all great souls are. And when it comes to the amount of coffee he drinks with us, he's one of us. And we are happy and proud of it.
— A real VST agent! From Prime! Wow! I never saw one! It was worth coming here just for this! Outsiders are rare in our area for obvious reasons. I heard one of them worked in Kantine, but it was before I joined the service. Unfortunately. Hate it so much, to be true.
— Well, good news for you then. You'll see him. You'll see the cases… — Lucy made a wide sweep, covering the infinity of shelves, which was perceived as such in contrast to the modest size of the room itself. — And see that everything isn't so bad.
— What are those cases? In brief? — Amelia shifted impatiently in her chair.
— If not to go into details... memory loss and... people loss. Amnesias. Disappearances. Deaths... In amounts that Omill… no, even the Mainland had ever seen before.
Lucy looked confused, she shook her head sadly.
An uncomfortable chill ran down the back of Amelia's neck. She shivered.
— It's… no fun.
— No indeed.
The women were silent for a moment. Both had the feeling that in the already dark Archive closet, the darkness of unsolved cases was thickening, moving from the tablets into their souls with a disturbing sticky eeriness.
— As I said, there are similar cases in our city.
— You can talk about it with Milo later. Maybe that's why the Temples Masters want this integration so badly… Anyone knows we can't solve it alone. — the Omillian Archivist thoughtfully assumed.
— Right. But if you want to sniff on the other side — I must warn you. Kantenese keep these cases under wraps. Our Temple Department, as always, is confidently planning to handle everything on their own and take all the credit. Aha…
Lucille snorted disapprovingly. Amelia continued.
— ...but all they will get, as usual, is a dressing down from the Administration, who will traditionally pretend that they had nothing to do with it and were unaware of it all along.
The Secretary smiled mockingly.
— Stupid intrigues in the face of a true jeopardy.
— Yes. You know… I tried to examine a document once. But it *disappeared* soon. I really think our Secretary helped it.
— Was it... about another VST agent?
— No... I think... no... it was something about people and instruments… It's more serious for our people. Wait. VST agent *disappeared* too?
— Not joking.
— Wow… How? Did they…
— She was last seen in the Kantine, yes.
— No investigation. No official search… You know... now I'm really pissed off. Our people are… the best. Always… I could lead the search. And I would do it with double the enthusiasm, believe me. I've always admired the stories about VST agents. I heard some during my professional life. I've always wanted to do something… to help them. Even though I knew that their skills and influence were much greater than mine.
— Now… you can help them.
— By giving a tablet! I wish I… Pfff… Alrighty. At least I will see one myself. And. As I see… you've got full access to information? Unlike me in the Archives of my home Department.
— Yes. I really wish I knew less. — the Secretary threw up her hands.
— Great. You will know much less in Kantine, I assure you. Curiosity and moxie isn't much favored here. So. If I'm a Secretary now… then all the secrets are mine. And it finally makes sense, you know... And now we're talking.
— Help yourself, — Lucy smiled as Amelia's sudden enthusiasm quickly replaced the utter despondency that had preceded it. — But please, keep everything in order.
— I will!
The confused Ami was no longer there. Sitting on the chair was the embodiment of the concentrated curiosity she had always been.
— You shouldn't disrespect archiving itself. You are the memory of the entire Temples Complex. It's a difficult task and an honourable position. Knowledge should be treated with respect. Try leaving the Station for a couple of lights without the Archives, and you'll see true chaos. No one can do anything without the proper information. Information is the key to everything.
Kantinian service woman smiled faintly.
— I agree. I love the Primean approach to knowledge and I respect the written word. I'm a maniac when it comes to information. And… Thanks for trying to cheer me up. It worked.
— You were so lost! — Lucy shook her head in sympathy.
— Everyone will if they have to go to Kantene… Why… why you're not upset, by the way? Things aren't going so well for you either! I almost feel guilty.
Lucille shrugged slightly.
— I'll be happy to see my relatives. I love the air, the food, and the landscapes of Kantine. So quiet and peaceful there... Maybe I'll be unhappy later. Who knows.
— I hope you'll never be there long enough to get as sick of these landscapes as I am... It's eerily quiet and peaceful there, yeah. Like a swamp full of sleeping ghouls.
— Well... what can I say? The Omillians say: "If you're born in Omill - you're already a winner".
— So true! — Amelia sighed enviously.
The Secretary rose from her desk and made an inviting gesture.
— I invite you into a winner's circle officially. Time to get acquainted with the most interesting side of the functioning of our Station, which is the biggest part of our job. And time to meet the most desperate, incurable caffeine addicts, the Omill's first biscuit eaters! They're about to have their traditional junket. Shall we?
"She's great at making lovely Festival announcements, isn't she? If Lucy had a word at their Fertility Festival, or at least introduced the speakers, maybe things wouldn't have looked so hopeless in those lights."
They left the Archive and Lucy sealed the entrance with the usual witchy motion.
...How will Ami do it herself? It's not clear yet.
Probably - she won't be able to. It is an impossible task for a non-witch. Just another in a series of impossible tasks in her new position.
But... Milo is fine with it, and Ami has just found a purpose in this confusing part of her pointless life. Let everything go as it goes.
— Ami, this is Donny... — Lucy introduced the thoughtful Kantinian to the service man who was hurrying to the coffee table. — Ami will be filling in for me.
The stocky, tanned Omillian smiled broadly.
— A new competitor for the sunrise coffee and pastries!
— I'm not much of… I'll be desperately shy for a while. Then I'll be gone. And then Lucy will be back in the Archives. That's all.
A sleepy-looking officer crawled out of the cell under the stairs.
She blinked her big yellow irises, trying to focus on the couple standing before her. But it was as if the woman was looking through them, not at them.
— Lavy! You're up early, — Lucy greeted the sleeper carelessly. — Did the smell of coffee disturb you?
The one called Laivy made an indeterminate growl that could be interpreted as agreement, greeting or curse, and followed Donny to the coffee table.
— Laivy's the nightwatchwoman. — Lucy explained in a low voice. "Sleeps all light, watches all night. An invaluable worker here. And the target of endless jokes all the time. When she's not hearing, of course. And when she does hear it.
— Does she always react with that sound?
— No. Sometimes she also reacts like this, — Lucy raised her eyes and blew air noisily through her lips.
The officers turned at the sound, and the Secretary smiled sweetly.
Smiling back, they decided that fresh coffee was more interesting than the details of what was going on.
The aroma of the drink, warmed by the witch's warmth in the palms of their hands, was already wafting through the Truth Station, luring the others out of their offices.
— We have some of the best coffee in the city. — Lucille announced proudly. — I don't know where Milo dug up those seedlings he planted in our yard… but the raw material is great. And we brewing it according to our family recipes. Like I said, it's time to stop lying to people and admit we're a coffee shop. Change the sign. Forget about these weird cases.
— "Coffee Station" or "Cup of Truth"?
— We haven't decided yet... That's why the sign stays the same. The second thing that might be an obstacle is that we don't make our own biscuit makers here. But that can be easily fixed.
— Where do you get the sweets? — Ami asked with a sincere interest.
She could use a sweet treat for her stress right now.
— Usually someone brought them from their favourite coffee shop. Or from home. When they take the trouble to make something according to their mood and their family recipes. It's always a real feast then.
— The only kind of feast I like. When the mood makes you celebrate, not the schedule.
Lucille nodded.
— True Omillian approach. Moki! Milo was looking for you. Moki, wait! This is Ami. From now on, if you want to ask me a question, ask Ami.
Lucy deftly managed to intercept a dark-skinned young officer as he tried to fly past. This man was graceful, and handsome but somewhat aloof, like almost all native Selvas. And unlike most Selvas, he was scowling.
— Aha... — he muttered absent-mindedly, as if the archivist had only slowed his body and his thoughts had travelled in another direction.
Moki cast an absent-minded glance at them, then at the office door on this level, apparently realising that he needed to reconnect with his thoughts, then flew away.
— Let's go to the coffee pot before the swallows blow everything out and eat all the leaf-biscuits, — Lucy suggested. — I'll introduce you to the others later... Or Milo will.
— I like your priorities, — Ami grinned.
— I don't work here for the first light. Coffee first, then everything else. It's an old Omillian law. Even if you don't get to know everyone who works here, they'll get to you sooner or later. The people's path to the Archive won't be overgrown.
— Sounds like a threat, — Amelia shivered. — I'm not used to working with a lot of people at the same time every light... In fact, I always escaped it. As well as escaping the cloth work, I prefer natural workplaces — wide roads, high Mountains, deep Forests. And now... I think I need to learn some new things about myself. To add to my mental dossier. It's not easy, but it's necessary. For growth.
— Yes, it is. Growth is a step into the unknown... Don't get too discouraged. Once you get used to the amount of routine, there's a perverse pleasure to be found in organising information and sorting out threads.
Ami chuckled.
— You weren't born with it either, right?
— I wasn't... Oh hey! I left my cup in the office... Where's yours? Hurry up.
Amelia jumped up eagerly.
— It's in my hiking bag! I'll be right back in a moment...
— Make haste!
They ran to their cups as if nothing else mattered, to fetch a favourite mug and pour into it the coveted green drink whose aroma had been teasing their olfactory receptors for quite some time.
Lucky Lucy had it as a matter of course every light. And Ami really missed Omill's coffee. And Prime's cakes... Like she would never be able to miss anyone in the world.
Pulling out her favourite lightweight travel mug, made from half a large walnut shell, the Kantinian slyboots quickly found herself and the Secretary near the coffee table.
Lucy's mug immediately absorbed Amelia's full attention.
Typical Omillian stoneware, with the traditional pattern and the handy finger indentations, and the glazed distinctive green rim that indicated the amount of coffee the owner had drunk.
The Kantinian looked around at the other cups, fascinated.
She remembered someone's story about a Selva cup made of glazed dried mushrooms. These cups are rare, but it's said that the coffee in them has a unique flavour... Is one of these cups like that? What materials are they made of?
The Kantinian temporarily forgot to be shy and stared shamelessly at each cup. This could be interpreted as some kind of adaptation.
— Well. Now you're really one of us. The ritual has been observed. We all share the same coffee. — Lucy smiled.
— Not quite the same, I'm not a witch. Mine is not at the optimal temperature. — Ami sighed, grumbling. — I've been suffering my whole swamp life from being giftless. And my punishment is not only the cold coffee.
At the same moment, her own cup was suddenly in the big hands of the tall blonde witch. But instead of protesting, the Kantinian was surprised.
Wow. But instead of protesting, the Kantinian was stunned.
— Poor soul. Let me help you, — the giant announced after the fact.
"Who wouldn't…"
— Emm. Thanks... — Ami mumbled.
It was so sudden.
— ...Elsu, — Lucy helped.
— Thank you... Elsu! — Amelia echoed.
"You're sooo huuuuge…"
Given the size and muscle density of her benefactress, politeness was the best strategy.
Ami painfully tried to remember all the names she had just heard. But it was impossible not to remember Elsu.
She stood out from the crowd with her far from average Omillian height, her prominent musculature and her blonde hair, which reminded Amelia of the patchwork cultures of her hometown. This woman was definitely of Nordic descent.
— I've never heated coffee in a cup like this before... — a giant gently turned the cup in her hands, examined it and handed it back to its owner. — Try it. Is it warm enough?
Ami took a careful sip and squinted with pleasure.
— It's... just wonderful. Thank you again.
The Omillian smiled contentedly in return.
...Once the coffee socialising was over, Ami and Lucy went back to the Archive and moved on to the more mundane part.
— Your bag is here, — the Archivist noticed as she watched the Kantinian put her mug back in her travel bag. — Which means... The Chiefdom hasn't assigned you a place to stay yet. I'll have to remind Milo of that. Because the only decent place to sleep in this Station is Lavy's.
— Why does Lavy live here? Doesn't she have a home?
— She does. She goes there for festivals.
— And that's it?
— That's it.
— That's interesting. Why doesn't she live in her own house?
— I don't know, — Lucy shook her head. — Nobody knows. We didn't ask. Ask yourself if you want to.
— And she will make *this* sound instead of the answer. I'm the master of impolite questions… But I'll be quite shy here. At the beginning. Then Milo will regret that he left me here. That's how things usually go.
— I see...
— And… You know... I feel like I can conquer the Mainland now. And I don't care where I sleep or if I will ever sleep in this cycle. I'm adrenaline boosted and more than ready for all the doom, agony and indelible shame to come. I made my choice. And had soothing doping also. Just what I needed the last few cycles.
— You will soon feel the coffee wears off and the rollback begins... Don't let the drink trick you. Don't neglect the rest. Otherwise, you'll be burnt out before you even start. Just saying.
— True story. Thank you, my guardian spirit! — Amelia bowed playfully. — And by the way. There was not enough pastry to eat my stress away. Do you have an idea where I can get some more now?
— At Anfey's. The pastry here is fantastic. They also have a lovely floral ale. The coffee is excellent too. You know... I would run there to get something tasty for dinner. And to show you where it is, because it is on the way to our service houses. Getting drinks and snacks here is the best way to celebrate your arrival and my departure.
— I'm in! Thank you for all the fuss.
— It's part of my job, — Lucy waved it off. — To help people. To get coffee and pastries... To torture the boss by reminding him of his endless tasks. Wait for me then. I'll go to Milo's office and return. Then we go.