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Anisa

The date was December 2nd, 804. Samantha should arrive at Northpoint on December 6th. From one of her 2 towers overlooking the city of Felkner, Anisa Day stared out.

The towers had previously been part of a larger fort, but the fort itself had been replaced with a more modest manor. Her hands pressed against the cool stone of the windowsill. A faint breeze. The day was warm.

She had let down her hair. It blew across her vision, and fell back to her shoulders.

She sipped the Green Carmella tea on the sill.

She glanced at her watch. Twelve more seconds.

She placed the tea to its plate and closed her eyes. Another breeze. A breath in, out.

One. 0.

It was a temporary office. Marble floor, brown walls traced with symmetric gold patterns, a stone desk and chair, a long, green rug. The desk was stacked with papers. Further adornment wasn’t necessary, though it would raise her morale. Note appended to mental list.

She floated from the sill and placed the cup and its plate on her desk. She floated down the carpet and to the door. It was pulled open just before she exited.

“Bourrienne. Shift 3. Acknowledge.”

The short man stepped away from the door, reached into a satchel, and pulled out a book and a quill. He looked to his own watch. “Acknowledged. Time is 14:30.”

“Carriage waiting out front?”

“Yes.” She started floating down the hall, towards spiral stairs. He followed. “Mage’s Guild thanks you for the donation of stonemason hours for Redward Tower. Reginald said, quote, ‘it’s a blessing to have such a generous scion’, unquote.”

“Pause,” said Anisa. “Append to agenda, ‘adorn temporary office.’ Acknowledge?”

The man scratched his beard with the hand holding his notebook. “Aren’t we going to Blisbane tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. That’s 5 more hours I need to spend there. Acknowledge?”

“Fair enough.” He scribbled onto his paper, then glanced at his watch. “Acknowledged. Time is 14:32.”

“That late already…”

“You’ll still arrive 9 minutes early.”

“Increase pace. Resume. Next.” She sped up.

It was a ghastly sight, in that she appeared as a ghast. Her appearance alone wouldn’t terrify, but it’d subtly offput, and it’d take time to determine if she was human. Her features were gaunt and sharp, enhanced by her eyeshadow and makeup. She floated a millimeter above the stairs, legs straight, loose. Her arms were thin. Her hair was an unnatural dark blue, though almost dark enough it’d be mistaken for plain black.

“Moderate collision in Blue Adder at 13:46. A driver was inebriated, collided with a livestock transport. The collidee has testified that 14 pigs have been released, the guard and some vanguardists are working to round them up.”

“Vanguardists? Why?”

“They were at a nearby teahouse, and felt compelled to help.”

“Write them up for interference with guard activities. Arrange another meeting with Samantha to read the bylaws on enforcement of public order.”

“Samantha left for Northpoint yesterday, Your Highness.”

“Oh. Yes. Arrange a personal meeting with Weathers to discuss better management strategies. And cancel the upcoming tax roundtable.”

“Your Highness, the guards are aware of the laws, and specifically requested you consider amending it to allow them to help.”

“No.”

“I will arrange a meeting with Weathers. The collider is currently in custody.”

“Is he foreign, or otherwise important?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“The Guard doesn’t need us on this, then. Base charge of 2 months, I believe.”

“Correct, Your Highness.”

“Next.”

They exited the tower staircase into the manor. It was a straight path to the front door, to her carriage.

“Manor renovations are on track. Should be done in 12 days.”

“Excellent. Next.”

“The, uh, men started a pool on when they think Samantha will return.”

“Oh?”

“Vanguard Guild are in on it, too. They’re up to 20,000 pennies.”

She paused her movements, floating still. “Append for shift 4, determine legality of pool, determine necessary punishment. Acknowledge?”

Bourrienne quickly scribbled. “Acknowledged. Time is 14:35.”

“Do they expect her to return in fewer than 2 years?”

“I have the current statistics here…” he flipped pages in his book. “Mode is, uh, 0 days. Many are expecting her to reveal she never left.”

She stopped floating. Her legs briefly buckled under her own weight, before she levitated herself back up, legs supporting less weight, but feet on the ground. “I told them, I told them exactly what we were doing and why we were doing it, and they think I was lying?”

“Your Highness, more than two thirds of the bets for 0 days originated from outside the Felkner Guard.”

“What is the next most popular option?”

“2 weeks. That she will get there, and immediately turn around.”

“I see.”