Chương 85: Paperwork

Ferris Einion's day was more full than Sol could have guessed. How he had managed without an assistant before now was unfathomable. As soon as Sol was summoned back into the office Ferris had lines of Crockern waiting to see him, each with their own unique problems to solve. Sol found that his tasks for the majority of the day were simply to make sure Ferris had what he needed for the people he was talking to.

There was maintenance to be done on the outer walls, and several crews had been dispatched to handle that, but there needed to be requisitions to secure the right materials, and a complex network of schedules to deploy ironworkers who knew how to make the particular structures the walls needed. Sol was required to locate these duty rosters and make notes. Then there were demands for more internal storage.

Teilgcheárta had sizable underground warehouses - formerly mine tunnels which had been tapped out and used to store long-term provisions, but they were finding odd mold and rot in places which had never been a problem before. To compensate, above-ground warehouses were being constructed in empty parts of the city. Sol had to find the right permits for this, and make notes.

The garrison of defenders which manned the walls was woefully undertrained and efforts were underway to rectify that, with the help of the oldest Crockern Sol had seen here, a general whose name Ferris never used, only his title. It was as if the identity of the man had been so subsumed by his profession that "General" was now the only name that fit. Drills were being conducted in more empty parts of the city. Sol filed lists of the wounded - from drills? - and their current status, and made notes. And made notes.

Sol had never hated the idea of note-taking more than he did by only midway through his first full day as Ferri's assistant. Who was even going to read these notes? Just before they were scheduled to take a break for lunch there was an unexpected visitor - or at least one that had not been on the schedule. Ferris did not seem surprised to see her. She was the representative of the Séarlait Consortium stationed here with her small crew and she entered the room as if sizing it up for decorations.

"Regent-Elect," she said, giving a slight bow.

"I was hoping to have a moment of your time." Ferris grunted, which Sol had learned was a reluctant "yes."

"As you know, the founder of our firm, the illustrious Caolán Séarlait is going to be arriving to discuss the ongoing nature of our working relationship. His time is quite valuable, so it is my role to ensure that everything is just so for his arrival."

"Just so," Ferris rumbled.

"Indeed. I have been reviewing the plans for Mr. Séarlait's stay. It seems you have offered to house him and his retinue at the home of the Duke of Tremelai." Ferris nodded.

"It is a house used by the Duke when he is in residence. He currently is not."

"Hmm, well, you see I am afraid these accommodations are not quite appropriate for Mr. Séarlait. I'm sure they're lovely," the representative said quickly, "but Mr. Séarlait's needs are quite unique. When he is inspecting his holdings he prefers to stay closer to the ground, as it were. Less ostentatious, more… with the common man, so to speak." Ferris stood slowly.

"Teilgcheárta is not Caolán's Séarlait's holding, lackey." The representative blanched.

"No, of course not! I am so very sorry, I clearly misspoke. I only meant to say that Mr. Séarlait is a man of the people, and prefers to be housed as such." The Regent-Elect stalked around the desk, looming over the small pixie woman, who would have been small next to Sol, much less the towering Crockern.

"If His Majesty had problems with the accommodations he is welcome to book his own stay. Teilgcheárta has many inns where a common man of the people might well find a comfortable night's rest."

"I have offended your hospitality," she said, unfurling her wings to flit up higher to Ferris's face. She seemed uncomfortable with their use.

"I apologize, Regent-Elect. I only know what my employer is like and how his visits to other cities have gone. I know how you value efficiency, and it was my judgement that you would prefer this be hashed out now, not when you might lose time in negotiation by dealing with Mr. Séarlait's proclivities." Ferris growled. Then he walked back to his desk.

"Fine. It makes no difference to me where Shorinu's favorite pet Shirrenite stays. There is a large house not far from where your company is billeted. You've likely seen it. It will take a few days to refurnish, but it should better suit your employer's whims." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The representative smiled and bowed, taking her leave.

Sol saw the smile she tried to hide - she had clearly gotten what she wanted out of the interaction. Which is why he was also surprised to see Ferris smiling as well.

"Huh," Sol said. Ferris turned to his new assistant.

"You have a thought, Sol?" Sol was piecing things together, absently staring at the ceiling.

"I think you're planning to kidnap Caolán Séarlait and keep him hostage in Teilgcheárta. But I can't figure out why." Instantly Ferris had Sol by the throat, lifting him off the floor with his left hand, a rare exhibition of his Fourth strength.

"Who are you working for, Sol?" Sol couldn't breathe, so of course couldn't answer. So instead he wrapped his hands around the Crocken's beefy arm and began to drain Ferris's fórsa. Nothing. It was like trying to pull fórsa from a stone. Sol's brow furrowed in confusion, even as he choked. Ferris dropped him, clearly seeing trying to question a man while depriving him of breath was foolish.

"Tell me how you have come to this conclusion. What have you seen that the Séarlait delegation has not? Or is it that they have seen, and I have not noticed? Lives hang on your next words, Sol. Choose them well." Sol coughed, looking up at Ferris balefully.

"It seems obvious to me. The only person I'm working for is you. You knew Caolán would object to a fancy manor house away from his staff - aside from all that 'man of the people stuff' he is likely paranoid enough to not want his forces to be separated. There is no real reason to do that unless you wanted his people to feel confident that you're not laying a trap for them in their accommodations. Which wouldn't matter to you unless you actually are."

"If you have pieced all this together, why say 'take hostage'? Why do you not think I am attempting to kill him?"

"Because of all the other meetings you had today. Something is wrong in Teilgcheárta. I don't pretend to know what it is, but you have large sections of the city empty. Most Crockern here are young, aside from you and the General, but no children that I have seen. From what I understand, this has been an independent city-state for hundreds of years - why are the troops so green? You have so few residents here in the first place, compared to the size of the city - why the concern about long-term food storage?

And while the defenses of Teilgcheárta have always been known as important to the security of the state, you're repairing them with an outsized urgency." Sol shook his head.

"You expect a siege. You want a siege. I think you're planning to get it by holding Séarlait captive and locking the doors. But I don't know why." Ferris stared open-mouthed.

"You got that from a half-day of meetings?" Sol shrugged.

"You had me take detailed notes." Ferris sighed and lowered himself back down onto his chair.

"I am garbage at politics. There is not a minute that goes by that I don't regret leaving my forge in Karesk. Not that I had a choice," he grumbled. Sol stood cautiously, wary of rousing the Regent-Elect's wrath again.

"Why is your arm dead?" Ferris looked to the ceiling.

"Crockern above, what haven't you noticed?" Sol shrugged.

"I have my own techniques to see things. Something I happened to sense while you had me by the throat." Ferris rubbed the offending arm absently.

"It's related to why I asked you to be my assistant in the first place. It's an… odd variant of iron sickness. The iron suffuses your body, killing the living fórsa within. But your mind… your mind can't handle the loss. It can't see it, because of the iron. So the limb continues to move, even though there is no living fórsa in it. Much like when a soldier loses an arm in combat - even many years later the mind still thinks the limb is there and tries to move it. Phantom pain.

Only this time, the limb actually is still there."

"Interesting. And you were hoping my unique physiology would help you with this?"

"Like you, I see more than I let on. No fórsa flows through you. The fórsa of your body is as inert as my arm is. But still, you stay lucid. For anyone else with my affliction, if their entire body had been afflicted as yours seems to be, their Mind will have almost dispersed - entirely repurposed from reason and thought to locomotion. Easily suggested to, with almost no will to resist. No self at all. Can you imagine what that would be like?" Ferris held his head in his hands.

"I can, yes. It was a state I lived in for many years," Sol admitted.

"It's possible I could help, if you trust me more." Ferris shook his head.

"You ask for trust a day after we meet, in the worst possible week for betrayal. I will send word to your friends that you will be staying with me - all day. Every day. Until the Séarlait matter is resolved. I cannot have loose lips on this matter." As he saw Sol about to protest he added "The alternative is death or incarceration. And I should note if I think at any time you will betray my plans to Séarlait or anyone else, both will be back on the table." Sol could think of no rejoinder that would be convincing.

A man who plots is not a man to be placated. He only hoped Cormac and Miriam would trust that he was safe for the time being. If they were to try to free him, it would ruin everything they were trying to do in Teilgcheárta.

"Very well," he said.

"And I will try to help with your iron sickness, if I can trust that once the Séarlait matter is resolved you will not attempt to hold me against my will - no matter what you find out about me." Ferris nodded.

"I can see nothing that would cause me to break that agreement." Sol thought back to his time as the ego-less Líadan.

"The iron sickness. You said the mind just focuses on locomotion. In my past life, that equated to content idleness - until the instructions I was given fell apart. Then… I would do anything I could to fulfill those instructions, including mindless violence. What is the reaction of those in that state of iron sickness when their instructions cease to be effective?"

"Oh, absolutely mindless violence."

"Regent-Elect!" A Crockern in mining gear, face dusty and blackened, rushed into the office.

"There's been a breach in the lower tunnels!"