A half-written letter lie beneath her fingers when she woke. Gathering herself, Veleria noted the name penned at the top: Lord Auros De’Tarsons. He was a high-ranking scribe within the Autumn Council, and the elf who hired her. With a small, waking sigh, she recalled her conversation with Adrian just hours prior. While it was important that she return to the council and inform them of her findings, there was the simple matter that Almor and the elven lands were weeks apart. They would send a letter ahead of them, within what Adrian referred to as his “network”.
She hadn’t grilled him yet. Adrian was clearly involved in an organization that she wanted no part of, if only for fear of repercussion. Somehow, she believed he would tell her. With time.
As her thoughts drifted towards her benefactor, she felt the strings of her blouse and realized she was rubbing at her scar. It was something she caught herself doing rather often, in an almost comforting fashion. It was warm, her scar. Always warm.
She took the quill she had abandoned in her rest, and finished her letter to Lord De’Tarsons.
Lord Auros De’Tarsons,
The task is done.
Allow 2-4 weeks for my return. What I have uncovered can only be discussed between us.
Have patience,
Ca
When she reached the end, she paused. She had written ‘C’ and ‘A’ as the first two letters for her name. Stranger still, the penmanship was hardly her own. It was far more elegant than anything she could conjure. Knitting her brows, she tore up the letter and continued on a fresh sheet of parchment. He would find it suspicious if she blacked out any part of the letter. Once she was done, she rolled it up and rummaged through a box of writing instruments that Adrian had left her. The seals were all very professional. Their detail was finer than anything she had ever seen, bar that of the elves.
She supposed King Arlaman used even more intricate seals and instruments but she had never seen official documents from him.
Choosing the most detailed seal she could find, she melted some wax onto the overlap of her letter and squished the seal into it. Then, once it was dry she tied a red, silk ribbon around the right end. She was instructed to do so. Otherwise, how would they know it was official? That is what Adrian had said.
Now that she was finished with that, she peered back into Adrian’s box and noted the numerous ribbons and their colors. A lot of red, some green, and a few embroidered blue ones that she felt were only allowed on serious documents. She felt one of the reds. Silk was rarely something she was privy to. In an almost absentminded fashion, she pulled the ribbon out, took her own black hair, and tied the ribbon around it.
“Looks nice,”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Veleria turned around, eying Adrian as he walked out onto the patio.
“Keep it. Better on you than some letter.” He sat opposite her, a table for two. There was mead in his hand. It was something she had also noticed. He drank. A lot. He set the mug down and took the sealed letter. “I’ll give this to my man. Auros De’Tarsons, you said? What a name.”
“He’s a scribe,” said Veleria.
Adrian raised a brow, “so he knows everything. At least, everything the elves know, anyway. Clearly he had no idea what Alk’Hath was up to.” He looked over the sealed letter while he drank more of his mead.
“I don’t think anyone does.” Veleria noted, her gaze wandering to the yard. He didn’t have much of one, but given his proximity to the coast that was expected. She played with the ribbon in her hair. One end was at rest on her shoulder. “There is something beneath her temple. Evil, maybe, but definitely powerful.”
Adrian appeared to consider this. He looked back at the letter in his hand and then stood up. His mug was already empty.
“I’ll take this to my man. Expect me by nightfall.”
“Oh,” Veleria nodded. “Okay.”