Chương 27: The Price of Permission

Holt placed the end of her staff against my chest.

"You lost."

"I remained standing."

"You are standing because I stopped."

"That still differs from being on the floor." Bera leaned on her own staff several paces away. She had struck me twice, caught my sleeve once, and nearly driven me into the wall. The final attempt had gone better. I had avoided the first strike, turned away from the second, and moved far enough that she could no longer reach me without following. Then I had stopped. That was when Holt placed the staff against my chest.

"You keep waiting for the fight to finish," she said.

"I assumed creating distance was part of the drill."

"It was the entire drill."

"Then I succeeded."

"You created distance and stood there admiring it."

"I was checking Bera's position." Bera wiped sweat from her forehead with one sleeve.

"I was coming after you."

"I noticed."

"You still waited." Holt lowered the staff.

"Leaving is a skill, Benson. You do not have to win every exchange."

"I would prefer not to lose them."

"Then leave before you do." She motioned toward our starting positions. We reset. This time, when Bera stepped toward me, I blocked the first strike with the middle of the staff, moved outside her reach, and continued toward the edge of the mat. I did not stop. Holt called after me.

"That counts." I turned. Bera lowered her weapon.

"It feels unfinished," I said.

"Most useful things do." Holt marked something on my training card. I tried to read it. She covered the card with her hand.

"You will see it when I am finished."

"I prefer immediate records."

"You prefer arguing with records before they exist."

"That prevents errors." She wrote another line. I decided not to object. The permit notice arrived before lunch. It came in a blue municipal envelope sealed with the mark of the Office of Enchanted Commerce. Nessa read it first. That was usually safer. I entered through the rear door and found her standing behind the counter with the letter open in both hands. Tovan was beside the kitchen board, tying bundles of herbs for the afternoon stew. Neither spoke when I entered.

"That is rarely a good sign," I said. Nessa held out the notice.

"Read it." The first page informed me that The Second Spark had been identified as a producer of mana-active consumables supplied to a registered guild organization. The second page explained that any food prepared and sold specifically for an observed magical effect required a provisional permit. The third page listed the requirements. Registration fee. Inspection fee. Quarterly review. Approved mana testing. Batch seals. Approved storage containers for institutional orders. Certified effect records.

The final page listed the approved providers. I read it twice.

"When does this begin?"

"Immediately for new institutional orders," Nessa said.

"Existing paid orders may be completed."

"The dining room?"

"Unaffected."

"The cupboards?"

"Unaffected."

"Rowan House?"

"Private household. Unaffected unless they place the effect in a formal contract." Tovan set the herbs aside.

"Did someone complain?"

"No complaint is listed."

"Was anyone harmed?"

"No."

"Then why now?" Nessa tapped the first page.

"The guild requested a larger standing order." That answered it. For months, the western branch had purchased the meals as prepared food. The new request justified the expense by describing the effects. Reduced ordinary fatigue. Improved recovery between patrols. Lower use of mild recovery potions. Someone in the city had read the request and decided lunch had become a regulated magical product. I turned to the provider list.

"Veylan Civic Arcana Services." Nessa nodded.

"Mandatory testing."

"Blue Quill Preservation."

"Approved containers and seals."

"Do we know either company?"

"No." Tovan looked at the menu warning beside the service opening. FOOD MAY SUPPORT ORDINARY RECOVERY. SERIOUS INJURIES REQUIRE A HEALER. SO DOES POISON. ESPECIALLY POISON.

"You already warn people," he said.

"Yes."

"Will they make you change it?"

"No. They want additional labels on guild parcels."

"That seems manageable."

"The labels are not the expensive part." I carried the notice to the ledger table. Nessa had already opened the guild account records. The restaurant charged seven kamera for each standard field meal. The margin was lower than dining-room food, though the order remained useful. The parcels required stronger wrapping, warming marks, measured portions, longer preparation, and space held in the kitchen outside ordinary service. The permit added costs to every part of the process. I took out a clean sheet.

"Registration fee divided across one year." Nessa gave me the figure. I wrote it down.

"Quarterly inspections." She read the next amount.

"Testing?"

"Every institutional batch."

"How much?" She told me. I stopped writing.

"That costs more than the meat."

"Yes."

"Containers?"

"Blue Quill charges a deposit and sanitation fee."

"The guild already owns travel containers."

"They are not approved."

"Why?"

"The notice does not say." Tovan came around the table.

"Can the guild return the approved containers?"

"Yes," Nessa said.

"After paying the cleaning charge."

"Do they clean themselves?"

"No."

"That would at least explain the price." We continued. By the time every fee had been divided across twenty weekly meals, the cost per parcel had risen from slightly under six kamera to nearly thirteen. That did not include profit. It did not include the time required to record mana readings, arrange city inspections, or wait for an approved tester. Nessa drew a line beneath the total.

"Fifteen kamera per meal," she said.

"That preserves the current margin."

"Barely." Tovan looked between us.

"The guild will not pay that."

"Then the guild orders end," I said. He watched my face, perhaps waiting for the rest. There was no rest. Nessa closed the permit notice.

"Should we appeal?"

"No."

"You are willing to apply?"

"If the city requires the permit, we will follow the requirement." Tovan frowned slightly.

"And charge the guild fifteen."

"Yes."

"What if the guild asks you to keep the old price?"

"No." Nessa looked toward the kitchen.

"The next batch has already been paid."

"We complete it."

"And after?"

"We accept no more guild orders until they accept the new price or the city withdraws the requirement." Tovan gave a slow nod.

"You decided quickly."

"The calculation was clear." Nessa's mouth shifted at one corner.

"I expected that answer." The front door opened. Amon entered with two patrol members behind him. He was laughing about something until he saw the papers spread across the ledger table. His expression changed.

"What happened?"

"The city improved lunch," Nessa said. Amon glanced at her.

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is more expensive now," I said.

"That sounds normal." I passed him the notice. He read the first page while standing. Then the second. By the third, he pulled out a chair. The two patrol members remained near the entrance. One of them looked toward the kitchen. Amon pointed at a table without looking up.

"Sit down. Order something. This may take a while." They did. Amon finished reading.

"What does this mean for the guild order?"

"Fifteen kamera per meal." His head came up.

"You charge us seven."

"The permit adds cost."

"Eight kamera per meal?"

"Approximately."

"For a permit?"

"For the permit, inspection, testing, seals, approved containers, cleaning charges, and recordkeeping." Amon read the provider page.

"Who are these people?"

"We do not know," Nessa said.

"Can you use guild containers?"

"No."

"Can the guild test the batches?"

"No."

"Can Joe test them?"

"No."

"Can Tessa test them?"

"She is not an approved municipal provider." Amon leaned back.

"That is remarkably stupid."

"It is expensive," I said.

"That too." One of the patrol members raised his hand from table four.

"Are the road pies still four kamera?"

"For ordinary customers," Nessa called. He lowered his hand. Amon looked toward him.

"Did you really need to ask now?"

"I wanted to know whether lunch had changed." Amon returned to the notice.

"Will you stop the order?"

"If the guild refuses the new price."

"You know they will."

"Then yes." He rubbed one hand over his face.

"We submitted the expansion request because the meals were saving money."

"The permit removes that saving."

"I can see that."

"I prepared a cost statement." Nessa pushed the sheet toward him. Amon studied it more carefully than I expected. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. He had grown better at this. Several months earlier, he would have asked whether I could make more food and carried whatever answer returned to the guild. Now he checked the quantities, packaging, and labor. His finger stopped beside the testing charge.

"That cannot be correct."

"It is printed in the notice," Nessa said.

"One test costs twenty-six kamera?"

"Per batch."

"The batch contains twenty meals."

"Yes."

"They are testing lunch for more than lunch earns."

"That is one way to state it." Amon folded the cost sheet.

"I'm taking this to the guild."

"It is a copy."

"I assumed."

"The original stays here."

"I also assumed that." He stood, then looked toward the kitchen.

"Is there fried rice?"

"Yes."

"Can I eat before I go?"

"That would improve the meeting." He ordered two portions. The Guild Master's office had fewer chairs than expected. There were four. Jacob took one. Amon took another. I sat in the third. The Guild Master remained standing behind her desk, reading the permit notice with both hands. She was a broad woman with iron-gray hair and a pale scar running from one ear toward her jaw. I had seen her twice at public guild ceremonies and once from across the western hall. She looked more tired at close range.

A clerk stood near the door with a writing board. The fourth chair remained empty. The Guild Master lowered the notice.

"You are willing to continue the order at fifteen kamera?"

"Yes," I said.

"And if the guild refuses?"

"The order ends after the paid batch."

"You will not absorb part of the permit cost?"

"No."

"You would still earn a profit at twelve."

"Less than the dining room earns for the same kitchen time." Jacob looked at the cost sheet.

"He is correct." The Guild Master turned toward him.

"You checked it?"

"Three times." Amon leaned back in his chair.

"He checked it once at the restaurant and twice on the walk here."

"The second time was at the office," Jacob said.

"You stopped outside the office and checked again."

"The street had better light." The Guild Master placed the notice on the desk.

"The city considers this an enchanted consumable."

"The city may call it what it likes," I said.

"The guild will still pay the cost created by that decision." The clerk's pen stopped. The Guild Master looked at me for several seconds. Then her mouth moved slightly.

"You do not sound angry."

"The numbers remain the same regardless." Amon rested his forearms on his knees.

"He is angry. This is how he does it."

"I am not angry."

"You added the cleaning fee to three separate columns."

"It applies to three separate container groups." Jacob tapped the provider list.

"I want to know who approved these companies." The Guild Master looked down.

"You recognize them?"

"No."

"That is the problem?"

"It is one of them." Jacob turned the notice toward us.

"Clovefield Company supplies expedition containers, mana-safe seals, storage frames, and testing materials. We sell to guilds, merchants, alchemists, and city departments." He pointed to Blue Quill Preservation.

"This company charges twelve kamera to certify a container that would cost eight to replace." The Guild Master looked at the second name.

"And the testing service?"

"Veylan Civic Arcana charges twenty-six kamera for a batch reading. Tessa Merrow performs comparable ingredient analysis for four."

"The city may require a different standard."

"Then the standard should explain the remaining twenty-two kamera." Amon leaned toward the paper.

"Where are they based?" Jacob did not answer immediately. He looked at the clerk.

"Do you have a city trade directory?" The clerk glanced at the Guild Master. She nodded. He left and returned with a thick book. Jacob opened it near the rear.

"Blue Quill Preservation." His finger moved down the page.

"Registered office: fourteen Westmar Lane." He turned several pages.

"Veylan Civic Arcana Services." His finger stopped.

"Fourteen Westmar Lane." Amon sat up.

"Same building?"

"Apparently."

"That may be an office house," the Guild Master said.

"It may." Jacob continued reading.

"Blue Quill has three listed directors. Veylan has two."

"Shared names?" Amon asked.

"No."

"That sounds better."

"The correspondence clerk is the same." Amon's expression changed.

"That sounds worse." Jacob closed the directory.

"I want the invoices from any city department using these providers." The Guild Master looked toward the clerk.

"Request them." The clerk hesitated.

"From municipal commerce?"

"From every office." He left again. Amon looked at his father.

"You think this is theft?"

"I think someone is charging too much."

"That is not the same thing."

"No." Jacob folded the permit notice carefully.

"It is often nearby." The city sent a representative two days later. Municipal Comptroller Halven Rusk arrived shortly before lunch in a dark green coat with silver stitching at the cuffs. He brought two clerks, one guard, and the expression of a man who expected the room to become quieter when he entered. It did. For several breaths. Then Tovan called from the kitchen.

"Joe, the shoulder portions are ready." The room continued. Rusk sat at table two. Nessa placed water in front of him. He looked toward the warning beside the menu.

"You already display limitations."

"Yes," I said.

"Then you understand the need for oversight."

"I understand the words on the notice."

"That was not what I meant."

"I know." One of his clerks opened a case and removed several forms. Rusk folded his hands.

"The city is not accusing you of wrongdoing, Mr. Benson."

"Joe."

"Your meals have been used safely for several months. No supported complaints have been filed."

"Then why require a permit?"

"Because the guild's new request identifies the effect as part of the purchase."

"The guild wrote the wrong description." Rusk's eyebrows lifted.

"The meals do support recovery?"

"Sometimes."

"You guide mana during preparation?"

"Yes."

"Then the city must ensure that public institutions receive what they purchase."

"I do not guarantee an effect."

"The guild wants the effect."

"The guild purchases food." Rusk glanced toward Amon, who sat near the end of the table with Jacob and the Guild Master.

"That distinction is becoming difficult to maintain."

"It is simple," I said.

"If the guild wants guaranteed magical performance, it should purchase potions." The Guild Master rested one hand on the table.

"The guild does not want to purchase more potions."

"Then it can purchase meals without a guarantee." Rusk looked toward her.

"The regulations do not allow public funds to purchase an unmeasured magical benefit."

"Then we will remove the benefit from the contract language."

"The meals would still produce it."

"Possibly," I said. Rusk's patience thinned.

"Mr. Benson—""Joe."

"Joe, the city has created a reasonable path for continued supply."

"At fifteen kamera per meal."

"That is your chosen price."

"It is the cost of your path." Jacob placed the cost statement on the table. Rusk barely looked at it.

"These providers operate under municipal approval."

"At four times the market rate," Jacob said.

"That is an unsupported claim."

"I support it." Jacob opened one of his own ledgers. The Guild Master watched Rusk rather than the numbers. Jacob listed the market prices for testing crystals, preservation seals, cleaning materials, container labor, and inspection time. He had brought invoices. Several of them came from city departments. Rusk's gaze remained calm, though he stopped interrupting.

"The permit fee itself is small," Jacob said.

"The approved services are not."

"They meet a higher standard."

"Which standard?"

"The municipal standard."

"What does that require?" Rusk turned to one of his clerks. The clerk began searching through the forms. Jacob waited. No answer came. Amon shifted in his chair.

"This is the part where someone tells us why lunch needs a special box."

"The container prevents mana loss," Rusk said. Joe looked toward the kitchen.

"The guild's current containers already do that."

"They have not been certified."

"By Blue Quill," Jacob said.

"Yes."

"The company operating from the same office as the testing service." Rusk's expression changed slightly.

"Many commercial offices share addresses."

"Do they share employees?" The room settled. Rusk looked toward Jacob. The Guild Master spoke before he answered.

"We will suspend the expansion request." Rusk turned to her.

"That is unnecessary."

"We will also suspend new purchases from The Second Spark after the paid batch."

"That would leave the western patrol without the meals."

"Yes."

"The permit was meant to preserve the program."

"It doubled the price."

"The city cannot change regulations based on one supplier's refusal." The Guild Master leaned back.

"No one asked you to." She nodded toward the cost sheet.

"I will submit a supplemental request for replacement rations, potion stock, and field recovery supplies." Rusk became very still.

"How much?" Jacob answered.

"Approximately four thousand additional kamera per quarter if patrol use remains at the proposed level."

"The city will not approve that."

"Then the patrols go without," the Guild Master said. Rusk looked from her to Amon. Amon gave him an easy smile.

"The men will enjoy hearing why." The smile did not reach Rusk.

"We can arrange a replication assessment," he said.

"If another approved kitchen can produce the meals, the guild will not depend on one supplier."

"That seems reasonable," I said. Everyone looked at me. Rusk appeared relieved.

"I will provide the recipe," I continued.

"And the process notes." His relief deepened.

"The city will demonstrate that the effect can be reproduced safely."

"Possibly."

"You doubt our practitioners?"

"No."

"Then what do you doubt?"

"The food." The replication trial took place in a municipal training kitchen five days later. The city assembled four people. A senior guild cook named Vessa. Tessa Merrow, serving as the alchemical assessor. An enchanter from the central works office. A certified wizard named Master Iven, known for precise mana control. I had met him once during my third examination. He did not remember me. That was preferable. The city provided ingredients from the same suppliers I used. The boar had been processed at Rook's.

The rice came from the western market. The fermented cabbage had been made two days after the batch in my kitchen. The difference mattered. No one believed me when I said so. Vessa reproduced the recipe first. Her food tasted good. The mana scattered before the meal reached the testing table. The second attempt used Master Iven's control. He followed the recorded flow from my notes exactly. The meat released more moisture than mine had. The fat rendered more slowly.

The cabbage's current sharpened before the rice had dried enough to hold it. Iven forced the recorded pattern into place. The pan flashed blue. Tessa removed her lenses from her forehead and placed them over her eyes.

"The currents are separating."

"I can see that," Iven said. He adjusted. The pattern stabilized for several breaths. Then collapsed. Vessa stared at the pan.

"Is it safe to eat?" Tessa tested it.

"Yes." She tried a spoonful.

"It tastes worse." Vessa looked offended.

"It tasted fine before the wizard touched it." Iven lowered his hands.

"The recorded structure became inaccurate."

"That is what I said," I replied. Rusk stood behind the observation table.

"Then update it."

"To what?" Iven asked. Rusk looked toward me. I looked at the pan.

"The boar current is gathering near the outer edge because the fat released late. The cabbage is too wet. The rice cannot hold both." Iven frowned.

"That is not a spell description."

"No."

"What pattern should I form?"

"I do not know yet."

"You would know if you were cooking it."

"Yes." His frown deepened.

"How?"

"The food would tell me." Vessa looked toward Tessa.

"He means that literally?"

"Probably more literally than is comfortable," Tessa said. The third attempt used measuring crystals around the pan. The fourth used stabilizing cookware. The fifth added a refined binding agent. That meal held a restorative effect. It also required an alchemist, a wizard, an enchanter, a trained cook, twelve measurement crystals, specialized cookware, and ingredients that cost more than the restaurant's entire batch. The effect was stronger than mine. It lasted less time.

The food tasted like metal and bitter herbs. Vessa put down her spoon.

"I would rather eat a potion." Tessa nodded.

"That is nearly what they made." Master Iven read through my notes again.

"You are not applying an enchantment."

"No."

"You are allowing the ingredients to form the structure."

"I guide them."

"Continuously."

"Yes."

"And the structure changes every time."

"Yes." He looked at Rusk.

"A written pattern cannot reproduce this." Rusk's face remained composed.

"What would it take?" Iven closed the notebook.

"Someone who understands cooking and can perceive each change in the mana before it becomes visible to instruments."

"Can you do that?"

"No." The room became quiet. Rusk looked toward the final cost ledger. Jacob had been recording every reagent, crystal, tool, and hour of specialist labor. He turned the page around. The successful imitation had cost eighty-three kamera per portion. Amon leaned over his shoulder.

"That is a very expensive lunch." Vessa crossed her arms.

"It was also a bad lunch." Rusk did not laugh. The first approved-provider invoice arrived the next morning. Jacob brought it to the Guild Master. The city had billed the replication trial through Veylan Civic Arcana Services. The listed charge included twelve measurement crystals. The city training kitchen had supplied those crystals from its own storage room. The invoice also included rental of stabilizing cookware. The enchanter had brought the cookware from the central works office.

Blue Quill Preservation billed the city for six approved food containers. No containers had been used. The Guild Master ordered a formal audit before midday. The permit was suspended. The guild orders remained paused. For the next two weeks, The Second Spark continued without them. The dining room remained full. The hungry cupboards emptied twice each day. Rowan House collected its orders. The restaurant lost some revenue. It also gained back the hours previously reserved for guild parcels.

Nessa shifted those hours toward road pies and lunch preparation. Tovan added a second stew to the evening board. The loss was noticeable. It was not dangerous. The western guild noticed more. Potion use rose. Patrol supply costs increased. Three guards complained directly to the Guild Master. Tomas complained to everyone else. I continued training with Holt. During one session, Bera chased me off the mat three times. Holt called that progress. I disagreed. She recorded it anyway. The audit widened.

Blue Quill Preservation and Veylan Civic Arcana Services shared an office. Then investigators found four more approved companies at the same address. One inspected mana seals. One supplied wall-maintenance crystals. One certified warehouse wards. One tested potion storage. Their directors were different. Their money went to the same merchant account. The account belonged to a holding company controlled by Halven Rusk's brother-in-law. That company paid rent on two estates used by Rusk.

Another account purchased enchanted art, foreign wine, mana crystals, and property in three districts. The investigators searched municipal records. They found eight years of contracts. The amount grew. Twenty thousand kamera. Then ninety. Then four hundred thousand. The final report listed one million, seven hundred and twelve thousand kamera diverted through false fees, inflated purchases, missing materials, and work that had been paid for but never completed. Some of the money came from business permits.

Most came from public contracts. Wall maintenance. Guard equipment. Emergency potion stores. Warehouse repairs. Water testing. Breach-warning arrays. The western wall repair I had noticed months earlier appeared in the report. The city had paid for a complete reconstruction of the damaged channel. The approved contractor had patched the surface and cut the cheaper crossing line over the old junction. Premium stone had been billed. Ordinary stone had been used.

The difference had gone through one of Rusk's companies. Engineer Hart sent me a copy of that page. At the bottom, she had written: You were right about the repair. I wrote beneath it: The repair was still functional. Nessa read the exchange.

"You could let someone agree with you."

"I did."

"You corrected her."

"The statement required limits." She took the paper away before I added another note. Halven Rusk was arrested at his eastern estate. The trial lasted nine days. I did not attend. The city notice appeared six weeks after the permit letter. Nessa placed it beside the breakfast ledger. Former Municipal Comptroller Halven Rusk had been convicted of theft of defense funds, falsification of public records, conspiracy, fraud, and deliberate endangerment of Caldris. His property was seized. His companies were dissolved.

Several clerks and contractors received prison sentences. Two inspectors were sentenced to hard labor. Rusk was executed at sunrise. The notice gave no further detail. I folded it. Tovan stood beside the stove.

"That seems final."

"Yes."

"Do you feel responsible?"

"No." He looked at me.

"I calculated the cost of a permit."

"That calculation led to the audit."

"The invoices led to the audit."

"You gave them the invoices."

"The city gave them the invoices." Tovan considered that.

"That is a very Joe answer."

"It is also accurate." He returned to the stew. I placed the notice beneath the ledger. There was work to do. The Guild Master visited that afternoon. Jacob and Amon came with her. Nessa closed the dining room between services and turned the front sign to COUNTER SERVICE ONLY. The Guild Master placed a new contract on the ledger table.

"The permit has been withdrawn," she said.

"I know."

"All related fees are cancelled."

"We did not pay any."

"The interruption costs will be compensated." Nessa opened the contract.

"How much?" The Guild Master told her. Nessa's expression did not change. That meant the amount was acceptable. Jacob placed a second folder beside it.

"The guild revised its meal terms." I read the first page. Nine kamera per meal. Payment one week in advance. Minimum order of twenty. Maximum order set by The Second Spark. No exclusivity. No guaranteed magical effect. The existing warnings remained. The guild could request research, but only under a separate paid agreement. Any technique developed at The Second Spark remained ours. Nessa reached the final page.

"Priority ingredient access." Jacob nodded.

"Selected monster materials after guild processing and before open-market sale. Food-safe cuts only. The restaurant pays the listed processor price." Tovan leaned closer.

"What kinds?" Jacob gave him another sheet. Tovan read the first several names. His eyes widened.

"River wyrm tail."

"Seasonal," Jacob said.

"Glass-antler marrow."

"Limited."

"Emberback fat."

"Very limited." Tovan turned toward me.

"We can cook these."

"That would be the purpose." Amon placed one final packet on the table.

"The replication report." It was thick. Too thick. I opened it. Mana readings. Temperature charts. Ingredient notes. Failed stabilizing patterns. Tessa's alchemical tests. Master Iven's written assessment. Vessa's comments on taste, several of which had been underlined. One read: Magically stable. Culinary failure. Another: Edible under emergency conditions. Amon tapped that line.

"She was being generous." The Guild Master rested both hands on the table.

"The city attempted to make your meals more expensive."

"Yes."

"It nearly cost the guild far more than the permit would have earned."

"Yes."

"It exposed theft from the defense budget."

"Yes."

"And now you have increased prices, better terms, ingredient access, and the city's research."

"Yes." She looked at me for a long moment.

"Do you intend to say anything else?"

"The guild order must remain below the kitchen's limit." Nessa nodded.

"That is already in the contract."

"Then no." Amon laughed. Jacob did not, though his shoulders loosened. The Guild Master signed first. I signed after Nessa finished reading every page. Tovan stood beside us, still holding the ingredient list. The guild order would resume the following week. Under our terms. In a quiet royal residence near the central district, the young woman who had once signed a lunch reservation as E. Rowan read the final audit summary. Her older guard sat across from her with one arm resting on the chair.

The shoulder no longer troubled her as often. The young woman turned another page.

"They tried to collect a permit fee from a restaurant."

"So it says."

"They spent city money proving the food could not be copied."

"That also appears here."

"They found more than a million kamera missing from wall repairs and guard supplies." The older woman took a drink of tea.

"Expensive lunch." The young woman covered her mouth. The laugh escaped anyway. Her attendant stood near the window with both hands folded behind his back.

"This was a serious crime."

"It was."

"You are laughing."

"I am laughing because the city tried to place a tax on fried rice and uncovered treason." The older guard looked at the report.

"The restaurant owner received the research."

"Yes."

"And better prices."

"Yes."

"And monster ingredients."

"Yes." The young woman set the report down.

"All because he refused to make lunch cheaper for the person stealing from it." The older woman's mouth curved.

"That seems fair." No royal order had been issued. No letter had been sent. The crown had done nothing. For once, the city had corrected itself. Eventually.