OEW

Keen on rest, Orison only checked in with his mother in brief summary letting Gan fill in the blanks. After getting a bath drawn by an uncharacteristically subdued Yulian, Orison filed away the need to get a more detailed picture of household affairs once he was up to it. After a proper washing, Orison donned his health restoring amulet, stamina regenerating ring and an elemental resistance ring that made the daytime heat of his room bearable. Flopping onto his bed, he lazily reached for his underclothes with halfhearted intentions towards decency that didn't quite overcome his stronger desire for more sleep.

A light rapping at his door woke him up. He had a bleary recollection of asking Yulian to send someone at midday, figuring at that point he'd be rested enough to get through the rest of the day with the last bit of bruising and abdominal distention resolved. Before he could answer whomever the 'alarm clock' was, the door opened crisply. A different kind of alarm bell rang in his head as the realization of his nakedness cut through the blur of sleep.

"Legate Cantrip, Your La-" The secretary froze.

Orison, who was caught mid attempt scrambling behind him for the edge of the sheet he was laying on, froze half propped and stretched out, unintentionally looking like a model posing for a smutty book cover. With it being the only person on the consulate staff he absolutely refused to act like an embarrassed teen in front of, he went for the only other option available.

Unhurriedly, Orison sat up on the side of the bed and gave her a lazy side glance as he reached for his underclothes. "Madam Secretary, I'm obviously not decent. Would you mind closing the door while you explain yourself?"

Orison's imagined scene of her rushing back out and stammering to a closed door, didn't happen. Instead, unclear whether it came from being flustered or boldness, the cheeky woman closed the door behind her. While inspecting her shoes with occasional sneaky glances up she explained herself as Orison tied on his loincloth with a slow deliberateness that had more to do with not wanting to show his own shocked nervousness than to add to his perverse aristocrat act.

While slipping on his pants and leather greaves, the secretary relayed that Droya had sent her to not only wake him up but to inform him that there were two missives and a parcel waiting for him along with an angry patrician wanting to complain to him directly. Message delivered but looking unsure of what to do, she stood in front of the closed door, hands pressed over each other on her stomach. Catching her glancing downward, yet again, Orison dropped the undone laces of his pants as a somewhat wicked idea spun through his head. Walking over to her, he placed a hand on the door, over her shoulder.

Doing his best to loom over her with an arrogant smirk, he said, "Madam Secretary, I do believe you enjoyed catching me in a vulnerable moment."

She stammered with slightly upturned and wide eyes, "Legate, I- I meant no disrespect. I-it won-"

Orison interrupted. "If you enter my room without acknowledgment again, I'll take it as an invitation to punish you... Would you like that, to be punished? How long has it been since you were spanked, Madam Secretary?"

Speechless and on the verge of hyperventilating, he noticed that the stimulation was a bit too rich for the poor elf so he released her from the improvised kabedon and took a couple of steps back. "Well, do you have other matters to attend to or are you trying to call my bluff?"

With one hand still clutched to her stomach, she batted for the door handle with the other as if she was afraid if she took her eyes off of him, he'd maul her. After a fumbled first attempt, she managed to get the door open with just enough space to wedge herself through. She was off like a dart but not before closing the door with polite gentleness. With no one to show off to, Orison finished getting dressed.

Not in the mood to deal with screaming merchants yet, he went to the private office first. Crossing his fingers it wasn't some grizzly trophy of some kind, Orison opened the package addressed to him on the table to find a pair of familiar boots. With childlike glee, he cleaned the mud and bloodstains off of them then mended them before immediately taking the leather greaves off and putting his old friends back on.

The stylized card inside read, " When I come to take what belongs to my clan I hope you can run fast, boy. A rabid animal like you is best served set loose to ravage Centerland sheep."

Smiling widely, Orison thought, "An honest enemy really is better than a false friend."

Next, Orison opened the plain and rustic looking missive. Inside was a poorly spelled thank you letter with uneven lines that looked like it had been written with a grease pencil. It had been written by a twelve year old girl, practically a kindergartner in elf years. Orison's 'magic horsey' had gotten the drug smuggler home fast enough to save her father's life and before the disease had crippled her older brother. Her mom, who was the village's healer, was 'with the ancestors' two days before the arrival of the medicine.

Between the lines, Orison read the unspoken words of a small girl's harrowing ordeal of isolation and fear. As mother then father and finally brother took turns giving her someone to talk to during her two weeks of bedroom lock down, the family next door would send water and food from their own likely dwindling supplies through her window slats with a rigged pole after checking to see if she was still alive. Even in the throws of fear and deprivation, this little coastal fishing community had kept it's spark of compassion alive.

It wasn't a feel good kind of story but the bitter sweet story of survival as the real world often was. That the girl took time in her grieving to send the simple thank you letter, cleaned a part of Orison's heart that had slowly been building up accumulated resentment of late. While washing his hands and carefully dabbing a distilled alcohol soaked rag over the letter, he read it once more with slightly misty eyes.

After taking a moment to absorb the little ray of spiritual sunshine, he opened the last missive. A Northland trade group had ventured deep into Obsidian's central lands to provide essential tools and goods to the brave and hearty souls who were taking up residence there. Having completed their mission, they decided to take the remaining distance south instead or returning the way they came. New Fvaris would be hosting them in the completed central structure of the 'Droya Memorial Diplomatic Center'. The reason why Orison was being informed was that one of the Northlanders who acted as the forward scout, claimed to be family and mentioned him by name.

While reading, Orison muttered over the missive, "My mother is alive and well, okay... It's just a cultural thing. Living a glorious life for honor after death is built into their thinking. I'm sure it's meant in the best possible way... So my brother went on a grand adventure while I was sea farming and politicking for survival. The envy, it burns...

"Everyone's the main character of their own story, Orison. It's dumb to think about how his tragic orphan backstory and way of life is more MC-like than yours... It's absolutely unreasonable to compare overprotective mother and pregnant maid that has a boyfriend to monster loli and hot warrior woman companion... Cold wars with clan leaders and military officers with endless trysts and adventures... Damn dust, always making my eyes water..."

Taking a quick breather to get himself prepared, Orison made his way to the meeting room and had the secretary escort the 'angry patrician' to him. As soon as Orison saw who it was, he glared at the secretary for half a second before motioning the trade officer to sit.

Orison said, "Sorry for the delay. You were somewhat misrepresented. I was expecting a merchant passing through, not a semi-permanent resident of the consulate. What seems to be the pro-"

The man launched into his diatribe. "Your captain has lost his mind! I honestly don't know how you managed to get me released from that madman's clutches but I'm forever grateful... He's seized the trade house into his governance and is holding all tax revenue until the new legate arrives. I don't mean disrespect for advising when you've proven yourself to be quite adept at 'the game' but I believe he plans on using the funds as he sees fit, then using the remainder to bribe the new legate. Between the two, they could easily pin the misconduct on you, especially since rumors of your 'dining hall transparency book' is all the evidence he needs to paint a bleak picture of your personal finances... I-I'm sure they are fine of course but..."

Orison fumed for a moment before inspiration struck.

After ordering the secretary to bring him stationary, Orison wrote out a letter, then used transcribe to copy it three times. After affixing official seals on two he sent them out, one to New Fvaris and one to outgoing post to Centerland. The trade officer, who had been reading the letter as Orison wrote it, smiled deviously in evil counterpart to Orison's serene one.

The trade officer scrambled to get his personal belongings together as Orison grabbed the consulate sentry on duty to fetch Centurion Calix. While he waited, Orison briefly explained what was happening to Droya and handed over handling their personal household affairs to her. When Calix appeared, nervous and unsure why he'd been summoned, Orison almost cracked up. Seeing the most intimidatingly built Centerlander he'd ever encountered acting like a bully summoned to the principle's office nearly made the height of his day.

Orison said, "This letter explains what's happening today. This list I'm writing now are the names of those I'm inviting to serve under you, VOLUNTARILY, as embassy detail until the new legate arrives. Until such time, you will be acting captain of that detail as Captain Nadir was assigned by a higher power to this specific, physical post. I have no jurisdiction over that, unfortunately. If you serve well, Hefty, it's not impossible for that to become permanent but even at the least it will be in your records that you served in such a capacity...

"You have until fourth bell to find these soldiers, try to recruit them and gather belongings. I'll accept up to three more soldiers of your choosing but that's as far as I can requisition. One third of the total troops is the limit of my power and I have no desire to have more strange faces surrounding me than known ones. The medical officer is not possible either for the same reason as Captain Nadir. Believe me, I'd yank him too if I could. You can tell him that if he does show up at the embassy at some later date, he'll not be turned away."

Orison gave Centurion Calix enough time to digest the letter and go over the names, answering a couple of questions along the way, before dismissing him. While he was doing that, Morrel watched over the outgoing post by the dock to make sure Orison's letter wasn't removed from it. Rithus and the Tulius brothers weren't idle either. With their own belongings, they were loading up the two best carts out of five that were left by various merchants due to tragedy, inconvenience or expense. He didn't think the captain would commit treason but to insure nothing out of sort happened, Orison had sent his mother and Yulian ahead with Corvinus and Rithus as soon as the first cart was loaded along with the only two real horses they had managed to keep Nadir from requisitioning.

A little after first bell past midday, Morrel returned with news that the post had left successfully with the return boat. Surprisingly, Orison managed to make a summon horse scroll before Captain Nadir, who'd been busy playing tax collector, had finally managed to count up everything and put it in safekeeping. Orison knew it would take mere seconds after the captain left the trade house's locked counting room for his aid to inform him of events. Sure enough, not but just a few minutes into his post scroll making breather, Orison saw the captain coming towards the consulate like a summer storm. With Claudius and Morrel flanking either side of him, Orison stopped Captain Nadir's furious forward momentum with a powerful thrust... of two letters.

Flickering murderous intent fought with military discipline as the captain reigned in his anger long enough to glimpse through both. "I'm going to strip you of authority now, Orison. After that, I'm going to put you in a cell. Are your men going to resist this action or will you come peacefully?"

Orison said, "I'll come peacefully because if they make it here before I meet them in route, you'll be dealing with Revivalists without my help."

Captain Nadir sneered as the men he brought with him tensely readied themselves to draw their weapons. "Based off what, these two letters?"

Orison sighed, "No, Captain. I base that off the two copies of the second letter you have there. One is over an hour's ride out to New Fvaris and the other is a half hour out to sea. Imprisoning me means dealing with the Le' Yu.. Leyoo..."

Morrel cleared his throat and said, "The Liu clan, Orison. Their name means something akin to kill and destroy, I believe. Their surname is not a proper part of the ancient elvish language but it's an old addition to these islander elves that's appeared in many historical documents."

Captain Nadir looked at the two of them as if they were insane. "You've probably sentenced us to death. Forget locking you up, why shouldn't I kill you?"

Orison shook his head in pity. "Captain, the reason why nothing will really change is locked up in the warehouse right now... Taxes and goods, Captain Nadir. The Revivalist clans aren't completely insane, you know."

"Those taxes and goods belong to Centerland. I'd rather see them burn than be stolen. What do you think all these men are even here for?" Nadir said passionately.

Eyes bleeding venom and suppressed hatred, Orison said, "They were supposed to be here for me. YOU were supposed to be here for me! This WAS a consulate not a merchant guild trade hub. This land doesn't belong to Centerland! Those taxes belong to the governing body of this land, which it now has. I only took the initiative to return it to it's rightful owner since I can do my consulate work from the embassy.

"As far as negotiating with the Speaker of the Right is concerned, I may have no compassion left for you after this last move of yours but I have none with your men. Whe-"

Nadir cut in, "I did this to make sure MY men wouldn't go without supplies and face the same fate as the ones who were suffering here before we arrived. If you hadn't threatened to cut off funds I wouldn't have done that."

Orison said, "You and your f***ing selective hearing. I've never once threatened to cut off supplies. I only threatened to cut off you and anyone else who wouldn't listen to me. If you hadn't threatened to imprison and have me killed secretly I would have tried to talk reason with you first. Everything I've done has been in response to you drawing clearer and deeper lines between us, Captain."

Nadir stonily said, "Throw this word twisting snake in a cell."

Orison stepped forward, stilling Claudius and Morrel from defending him and said, "Trading post commander, tell your men that what you do will have them crucified with you for treason if any of you survive." He turned around and offered his wrists behind his back.

The men hesitated, looking at Nadir. "You have a count of 100 to explain to me how you're going to stop Revivalists from killing or enslaving us, Orison."

Orison dropped his hands and turned around. "Well, the first step you've read in the letter. The land is released back into Clan Liu's custody but razing the post to the ground also would stop trade. The taxes collected go into the clan's treasury and I'm certain that no matter how much they hate you, they wouldn't be so stupid as to cut off an instant source of lucrative revenue.

"Throw that in the face of not only restoring gold to their coffers they've been bleeding out for supplies but also having first pick of what rolls into the docks, as long as you don't piss them off they won't do anything outside of hurl an occasional insult at you. Not only that, Captain, but they know they need you to make the merchants feel safe enough to come. Even if malcontents decide to stir trouble, the other four clans aren't going to sit idly by. In reality, they'll hate this place a whole lot less when it's theirs.

"If I can leave by fourth bell, I'll make it there before eighth. I'll have a chance to address the whole New Fvaris council before end of day at nine. I don't think I need to tell you how many more issues you won't have to face if I can do that before the Liu Clan gets their people together and comes here."

Nadir had his men stand down and said, "How can I trust you to do as you've said? No, let me rephrase. Your mother can stay as a guest with us to insure you'll do as you've said."

Orison smiled benignly. "You'd have to run really fast to make that happen, Captain."