The official query from the Ministry of Core Compliance hung in my consciousness, a monument to the fact that no good deed goes unpunished.
'An audit! They're threatening an audit!' FaeLina's psychic voice was a frantic buzz. '
'They're onto us! They know Clank isn't a real pillow! We're in trouble! We need someone who knows the Fairy Bureau's laws! Does the Silver Griffins' contract mention providing us with legal support?!'
'Calm down, FaeLina,' I projected. 'They just asked a question. We will give them an honest answer.'
I sent a simple, confident reply back to the Ministry. `'The danger levels of both models are consistent. You are welcome to send an inspector to verify our claim in person.'*
FaeLina let out a psychic squeak of horror. 'You invited them here?! On purpose?!'
A short time later, a golden, official alert chimed at the entrance. A weary, defeated-looking 'Barnaby the gnome' come into the dungeon. He looked even more tired than the last time I'd seen him. In his hands, he was holding a new, very strange-looking device made of brass and crystals. It had a large dial, a pointing nozzle, and a slot where a small ticket would come out.
"Right," Barnaby sighed, not bothering with pleasantries. "Let's get this over with. The Ministry requires a live threat-level reading of the new... 'pillow' variant." He held up the bizarre contraption. "This is the newly commissioned Mark IV Cuteness-to-Threat Conversion Scale. It's a prototype. Please try not to break it."
My core throbbed with a feeling of deep, profound amusement. I had created so much paperwork for these people that they had been forced to invent new technology just to categorize my minions.
"Present the subjects for analysis, please," Barnaby said, his voice completely deadpan.
At my command, a standard Pillow Fiend waddled into the center of the room. Barnaby aimed the nozzle of the Conversion Scale at it. The device whirred, its crystals glowing softly. After a moment, a small parchment ticket printed out from the slot. Barnaby took it and read it aloud in a monotone voice.
"'Subject: Pillow Fiend. Threat Level: Minimal. Primary Emotional Impact: A strong urge to squeeze. Recommended Action: Gentle pat on the head.'"
He then turned to Pip, who was standing nearby with his new clockwork companion. "And now," Barnaby sighed, "the... armored one."
Clank, who had been happily polishing Pip's lockpicks, looked up. Barnaby aimed the Cuteness-to-Threat Conversion Scale at him. The device whirred much more frantically this time. Its crystals flashed erratically, and it made a series of confused clicking and clacking sounds, as if it was struggling to process the data. Finally, after a much longer pause, it printed out a long, rambling ticket.
Barnaby took the parchment and began to read, his deadpan expression never changing.
"'Subject: Pillow Fiend (Clockwork Model). Threat Level: Minimal. Primary Emotional Impact: An overwhelming sense of wholesome friendship. Secondary Impact: A powerful desire to protect the small robot at all costs. Tertiary Impact: A sudden interest in the hobby of clock-making.'"
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "'Recommended Action: Tell him he is a very good boy and give him a small, intricate gear to play with.'"
Pip, who had been listening with a proud smile on his face, immediately knelt down. "You're a very good boy, Clank!" he said, patting the robot's head. Clank made a series of happy, chirping clicks in response.
Barnaby the inspector sighed the sigh of a man who had seen too much for one lifetime. He pulled out his official stamp.
"The emotional-impact profiles are... functionally identical," he declared, his voice filled with a deep weariness. He stamped a form on his clipboard with a loud THUD. "The danger levels are consistent. My report will reflect that."
As he was turning to leave, he gave me a long, tired look. "You know," he said, "the High Adjudicator is furious. You've created an entire new category of paperwork for us. He said if you create one more minion that requires a new appendix in the handbook, he's going to come down here personally and file a complaint."
With a final, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all the paperwork in the kingdom, he shuffled out of the dungeon. The only sound that broke the silence was the happy click-clack of Clank's feet as he went back to playing with Pip.
A tense silence hung in the air after Barnaby left. FaeLina was frozen mid-flight, her wings not even buzzing, as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then, a cheerful, golden notification chimed in my mind.
[Ministry Query RESOLVED. Classification: Consistent. No audit required.]
FaeLina stared at the notification, her mind completely blown.
"You did it," she whispered in awe. "You defeated the government... with logic and cuteness."
'Never underestimate the power of a well-worded argument,' I replied, feeling incredibly satisfied. 'And never underestimate the danger of a cute robot.'
A final, satisfying notification appeared, detailing my reward for this strange victory.
[New Skill Gained: Bureaucratic Judo (Passive)]
Rank: Novice
Description: The art of using an enemy's own complicated rules against them. Instead of fighting the system, you let it tie itself in knots.
Effects:
Gain a +10 bonus when dealing with paperwork, loopholes, and grumpy officials.
Automatically spot contradictions and weak points in official documents and contracts.
Unlock the ability to craft 'Forms of Minor Inconvenience' (Magical Paperwork) to distract or annoy your bureaucratic foes.