2404 Crescin 15, Velpa

They didn't find Marshal Ilphas that day. When he did return that night, Marshal Laie said he denied ever setting the palace on fire. "The old feeder told me he'd never even used magic that day," Marshal Laie had said when Nelnifa dropped by the office the other day. As expected, she didn't find Ilphas there either. Laie shrugged. "So, we're all at a loss, Princess."

And they continued to be at a loss several days later. After being held back at the palace for safety reasons and not being allowed to go home, Nelnifa stomped and moped inside one of the guest rooms available in the manor. It was supposed to be accomodation given to visiting emissaries from other territories or even the Seelie Court representatives based in Lanteglos but the rooms were largely unused because well...no one ever comes most of the time.

During the unexpected downtime, Nelnifa spotted a fresh batch of parchment and a set of a quill and a bottle of ink lying on the desk. Then, an idea sparked in her head and she got to work. Now, as the frenzy around the manor has died down, Nelnifa strode towards the manor's exit bearing the product of her work a few days before.

As she walked, she tore the seal placed upon the brittle envelope and drew the folded sheet of parchment stuck inside. When she opened it, Seravel's response tumbled out. He always did have the best handwriting out of all of them.

A smile pulled against the corners of her lips, knowing her friend was still alive and well. Seravel Rovodia, one of the sons of the Fire Potentate, was one of the few friends from other territories she had. They, along with Ariden Sarethol from the Earth Sprite territory, Avalora, met during one of the many Potentate conferences in Lanteglos.

It was a silly memory, consisting of Nelnifa getting lost in the winding corridors of the Imperial palace and the boys being up to some mischief. She remembered bumping into them by accident and that night had been one of the most fun-filled days she had. For some reason, it involved a panicking servant, buckets of agrubian paint, and a whole lot of scream-laughing.

Since then, they agreed to keep tabs on each other once in a while and that usually involved a catching-up letter once a year. However, with the things happening with Nelnifa, she had written to them for an entirely different reason.

Now, her eyes scanned the page and the lines of ink scrawled into it, trying to absorb its meaning as her feet slogged through the downward path away from the manor. It pleases me to know that you're doing well despite everything, Seravel had written. He was truly the most soft-spoken and gentlest person Nelnifa knew. To answer your question, I will tell you as briefly as I can.

The letter broke off into a new paragraph. No, I admit I have not seen the baskets you are referring to in any of the trading squares in Lanbridhr. I've checked here in Calca to no avail. My investigation from the inventories in the other cities yields the same result. I have also asked around my circles about the salvia but none of them seem to know what I talked about. I, myself, am at a loss as to what salvia might be and what kind of baskets Desara seems to be weaving.

A short gust of breath escaped from Nelnifa's lips. Was Seravel kidding her? No. The boy wasn't known to kid. He couldn't even throw a joke even if he wanted to. It was against his nature to lie, more like. She tucked his letter into the satchel she'd lugged around since she was a child.

That's strange, indeed. The merchant she talked to a few days ago appeared to be selling it to people outside the territory. How come carts bearing the baskets never made it out of Desara, despite the traders' claim for them to have made it to the farthest west of Umazure. Weren't the trade routes responsible for that? Wasn't that the reason they were built?

She gritted her teeth. There was something at work here, something just under everyone's noses but powerful enough to control their trade and economy from the shadows. What was their goal? Were they gaining something by tipping the balance of the scale against Desara? If so, why not target the other territories? Surely they have products and services that outnumber Desara's by the millions. It just didn't make sense.

Nelnifa dropped back home and greeted her brothers. Somehow, they managed to convince her to promise to bring home a box of cloresh once again. Then, she entrusted them to Tamna, a gentle sprite known to have served their family for a long, long time. The caretaker insisted Nelnifa bring with her a packet of fairy potion vials just in case.

Then, before she knew it, she was back in the shores of Orayta, striding towards Morka's shed. When she entered, the overseer was hunched over a map of the territory, the frown lines painting her youthful face had never been that deep before.

"Having trouble somewhere?" Nelnifa prodded, setting her satchel at the nearest three-legged stool she could find inside the shack.

Morka drew away from her dining table filled with various tomes, blades, and stray strands of salvia fronds. She rubbed her face as she retired to a chair with a cushioned seat. "I'm looking into the trade routes' course as you told me to. There are a number of places the merchants could end up in within a day's ride."

"And yet somehow, none of the baskets make it as far as Aresving," Nelnifa knitted her eyebrows and matched Morka's displeased frown. Then, she turned to the overseer, blurting out what she had come here to say. "Let me deliver the next batch myself," she said. "Consider it from my goodwill."

Morka bobbed her head and scratched her chin. "Of course, Princess," she said, her one good eye flicking to Nelnifa in a brief glance. "You already know how to get there too. Just...be careful."

Nelnifa slung her satchel over her shoulder once more, grateful for the brief respite of the weight against her muscles. "I will," she said, knowing full well she wouldn't probably be if she managed to find something groundbreaking. "You too."

She stepped out of the hut and closed the door behind her. Then, she headed straight through the Weaver's Circle where Ketha waited for her by a new circle she had found.

"How's the progress?" Nelnifa asked, dropping her voice to avoid being overheard by unwanted people.

Ketha wrinkled her nose. She braced her waist with her hands and groaned as she stretched back. "I tried my best, Nel," she said. "There are more and more people pledging their support by the day."

"By the gods," Nelnifa pushed stray strands of hair out of her face as she whirled to her friend. "Keep trying. I need all the help I can get."

"Yeah, about that," Ketha stuck her pinky finger into her ear and began dislodging particles of sand that made it in her ear canal. Her features contorted into a focused grimace. "Why do we need to halt the movement again? It's not like they're hurting anyone by gathering and wanting change."

Nelnifa blew a breath. "The Unities aren't known to be forgiving when people appear to invade the Imperial palace," she said. "Just...do your best to delay the march out. Bring Alsen and Yensar too, if you must."

Ketha hummed. "How about you?" she asked. "Any progress?"

Nelnifa's mind ran over everything that happened since she and Ketha had met and talked about this issue. "Well, I knew enough to know that our trading system is a little bit shady," she touched a finger to the pointer finger of her other hand as if she was counting. "I have someone I have to watch as a culprit for setting the palace on fire—"

"Setting the palace on fire?!" Ketha exclaimed. Several heads snapped up from their work to regard them with confused, blank stares.

Nelnifa smiled at them to assure them that nothing was going on. "She was talking about setting the place on fire," she said. "You know, the fireplace."

She added a few nervous laughs here and there and the heads slowly went back down to focus on the more pressing work they had to finish. Then, she whipped to Ketha with a stern frown. "Shout it a little louder, will you?" she hissed.

Ketha brought her hands together in supplication. "I was just surprised, O Great Princess," she said. "It's not everyday someone decides to bomb the place."

Nelnifa snorted. "Yeah," she said. "Imagine my surprise."

"Oooh, is that sarcasm I smell?" Ketha's grin turned manic. She got into Nelnifa's space. "Who are you and where's Nelnifa? Is it the cloresh's fault?"

Nelnifa pushed Ketha's face away from hers. "The sand and the salt of the sea," she said. "That's what you smell."

Ketha threw her head back and laughed, leaving Nelnifa to roll her eyes at her friend. At the same time, she didn't mind the silliness every now and then. Because as soon as she stopped by the official manor just to wait for her father to finish working, her mood condensed into a heavy cloud over her head.

"There you are, Princess," Marshal Ilphas pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and strode towards her. "I've been wondering where you've been. I heard you're looking for me?"

Nelnifa didn't bother hiding her distaste for his beige hair and calculating dark eyes. "Don't get cozy with me," she said. Standing a head smaller than him, she had to crane her neck up just to look him in the eyes. "I'm going to get you for burning the palace down. You could have hurt someone."

The Marshal laughed, a smug chuckle void of amusement. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Laie," he said. "I'm away on an errand the Potentate sent me to that day. There's no way I would go back just to strike the palace down, as you lot keep insisting. Besides, what could I possibly gain by bombing the manor? I will lose my place of work if I do, so it's not a good deal."

She clicked her tongue. It was because of him she had to wait for hours for her father so they could go home together. The Court didn't want to risk it, so they weren't even allowed to be alone, even on their way home.

Even when she was on her way to Orayta and during her numerous rounds, eyes watched her from behind, studying each and every one of her moves. Whenever she turned around, she would always see a soldier from one of the Marshals' platoons tailing her a safe distance behind.

It's a bit annoying but she understood why it was done so. If the Potentate's family died, Lanteglos would have to choose a successor dynasty. The Court feared the one the Imperial power would choose was someone who was incompetent and plunge the territory deeper into poverty. It was a reasonable fear—one that Nelnifa might have shared.

"If you don't want to get hurt, you must stop everything you've been doing outside your jurisdiction," Marshal Ilphas said, gaining Nelnifa's attention, no matter how negative, once more. "You wouldn't help anyone by constantly throwing yourself into danger, you know?"

Nelnifa huffed. "If you're so sure you know what I'm doing, go ahead and stop me," she said. "But you won't, will you? You're in the same boat as me, doing something underneath the people's noses. Unlike you, I wanted to help your people."

Marshal Ilphas kissed his teeth. "Well, if that's what you wish," he gave her a mocking bow before pushing past her the same way she did way back when, without the hair-flicking part. He turned a corner and disappeared past the bend. He must be off to do something malicious again. Nelnifa should follow him this time.

With cautious steps, she stalked towards the direction Ilphas has gone. She turned the same corner, expecting the Marshal to be walking a few steps ahead, unaware of her following. An empty corridor greeted her. Save for the people depicted in tapestries flanking the walls, there was no one with her in the hallway.

Where did Ilphas go?

A growl bled off Nelnifa's throat. How could she lose a Marshal in this vast palace? There was literally nowhere he could go except a few rooms and another corner. Unfortunately, now that Nelnifa hadn't seen any sliver of him, it was impossible to track where he went and checking each and every path would take a long, long time.

Her fists balled at her sides. She didn't even know she was capable of such fury at the Marshal, at the fire having broken out of the manor, and at each and every circumstance that brought her to where she was standing now.

She's going to finish whatever mess she started, even with everyone standing in her way. Even if they tell her to stop, for her people, she wouldn't ever. Even if it's the last thing she'd do.