First, the governor was alive and to some extent, well, well enough to speak to her. Though their conversation was not long, there were at least a dozen letters she ought to pen, informing, organizing, announcing, making movement and rousing the lot of people who had doubted he would ever return. Of these missives only two were written, sealed and sent with haste.
Dear Councilor Treadwell,
Thank you for all of your efforts. I commend your leadership and generosity that has surely eased the pain of a poor harvest. I spoke briefly with the governor, sound of mind as ever, though his body recovers – I am certain he feels the same gratitude and will, when he is able, thank you for all your contributions to the well-being of Myrken.
I hope he will keep me abreast of his condition so I may relay it to you, please call on me at any time if my assistance will aid you in any way.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve Tolleson
Dear Marshall Ariane Emory,
Let us meet soon, tonight, over a meal, if the notice is not too short. I have much to tell and to discuss. Further more I believe our efforts are most assuredly more effective when made together.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve Tolleson
Post Script: Please keep the book safe, I am not certain it’s usefulness has ended.
For being ever cautious, the vague mention of the journal is but a footnote. The list of names, allegiances, and her notes from questioning the Golben victim’s wife hadn’t really been entirely necessary for Ariane, but that did not mean their full purpose had been served.
The incapacitated governor had asked of her, to make a stand and to find a solution that would work, regardless of truth, regardless of justice. Though surely an answer with regard for both would be ideal. And there was one truth, she need only confirm, to know the culprit responsible for Burnie’s condition.
Small clouds of fog rise from under a scarf, which is tucked into the neck of a thick blue cloak, which bounces and shivers with the redheaded woman fidgeting nervously or to fight off the chill as she stands in front of a door. The wrong door perhaps. How she even had an address was because, presently, she was the Inquisitory. There were precious few resources to spare and for this matter, it was best she do it herself. And how she had come to be at the door doubting whether or not to knock? That was due to the very sight of Glenn Burnie.
There is a moment of hesitation before the decision is made and a resolute rap shatters the quiet trepidation of whether or not to question Councilor Stefan Berdini.