Lynda looked stunned and as she opened her mouth Merry-weather continued, raising a hand to forestall comment. “The pay probably wouldn’t be much, but hopefully we would be able to do some good. How about it? Are you interested?”

Lynda blinked a few times, gathering her thoughts before she blurted out her response.

“Yeah.” She stammered. “I mean; yes, please! What would I have to do?”

Merry-weather beamed.

“Outstanding! Welcome aboard!” He extended a hand to her, which she enveloped in her own grip and, with some caution given her earlier escapade with the elevator, shook. “Then I second you to the Peacekeeper’s as a secretary under the officer of your choosing.”

The grin on Lynda’s face at this life-line was turned to horror it turned out to be a noose that she had managed to grab with her neck.

“Wait, what?! How can you be serious?!” She blurted out. The door to the room cracked open and Bella the maid slipped inside carrying a tray of beverages. Lynda’s eyes darted back and it was the perfect break of flow to allow the giant to pause, then to try and not look ashamed at her outburst.

Bella placed in front of Lynda a clay mug of hot chocolate and some freshly made jumbles, while placing before her lord what looked to be a crystal tumbler of fine whisky and some Arid Delights cut into small cubes and coated with powdered sugar.

“You need a job, and as the leader of the Heralds of the city it is my purview to make sure paperwork is done on time and the Peacekeepers are…more than a little lax on making sure it’s all done.”

“I was at the riot, and I actively fought them; they know me. What makes you think they’d even let me through the door?”

“Simple; I plan to go and explain things to Yates, personally, man to man, or rather in his case it would be Lord to worm.” Merry-weather sighed and took the glass, running the golden-red spirit around the inside of the glass before taking a sip.

“Yates?”

“Commander of the Peace William Yates.” He explained. “This happened a few years ago; the Peacekeepers were a branch of the military sectioned off to deal with the civil unrest caused by some riots that occurred during the early reign of the Regent. You must have noticed it.”

Lynda did her best not to let her face fall, remembering what those days brought or rather took away.

“I was out of town at the time; at school.” She said, with a low tone, remembering some of the other events that happened at that time.

“Well…Education is a necessity, in my opinion but so often it’s a vocation only available to those who don’t care for it.” He said, taking a sigh. “What your people, the changed people, wouldn’t give for a chance at a decent education and what they could give us if they were but given an opportunity.” He took another sip of whisky and placed the glass back down. “I want to change that, to make sure that everyone regardless of origin has a chance but I would need your help to do it.”

“I just don’t get why you need me though; you’re a lord! Surely you’re the one with the power here.”

“It’s not…as easy as that, Lynda. If I push it too hard then the other Lords will ignore me at best and actively work against me at worse and continue on with their discrimination regardless.” He took up some of the sweet gelatinous cubes and placed them in front of him on the blotting paper.

“I think I follow your-” Lynda began but was overwritten by the eagerness of Merry-weather to discuss political reality.

“If I try to convince them all at once…” He began, taking a solitary cube and playfully jumping it up and down with his fingers. “…Then I wouldn’t get anywhere.”

“Yes, I know what-”

“However if I have someone to point at, a good example, I can take them off to the side and tailor make my arguments to them.” He mimed taking two cubes to one side, and allowed them to have a mock conversation. “Then they would help me convince others…” He brought two more cubes over, and then four, then the rest of the plate. “…Until everyone is on my side.”

Lynda bit into a jumble with intense irritation, making sure to direct the bite at him as if it were some sort of simulacra; though her frustration made worse as the fact the jumbles were freshly made and thus didn’t crunch in a way that would show off how perturbed she was.

Merry-weather smiled in an oblivious fashion, took one of the delights in hand, and wolfed it down. “You follow, I hope.”

“Yes, I do.” Lynda replied, though her words had an edge that went over the Lord’s head.

“Outstanding.” He said, taking a piece of paper from his draw and began to write with a quill. Lynda couldn’t quite make out the scrawl upside-down but did notice at the end of it a large flourish in a fine signature. “Bella!”

And as if she was waiting just outside of earshot Bella arrived, carrying a silver tray.

“Yes, Lord Merry-weather?”

“Get this down to that damn fool Yates. Tell him I want to speak to him tomorrow morning about some employment for young Miss…” He hesitated, trailing off before turning to Lynda with a somewhat guilty expression.

“Marker.” Lynda finished. “M-a-r-k-e-r.”

“Miss Marker, Yes, quite right. She’s to be a secretary under a constable there of our choosing.” He turned back to the Maid who placed the tray under the note and took it off.

“Now hold on; I haven’t agreed to this! You said I’d be working for you.” Lynda said, holding up a hand to try and catch Bella’s eye as she departed the room rather rapidly. All she was met with was a retreating back and the closing of a door. Merry-weather held up a hand once more, as if to enforce her silence.

“I did indeed, and you would be working for me; it’s just simply if anyone asks you’d be at the peacekeeper’s disposal to run errands, do paperwork, fetch files...” The Lord trailed off as the blank look of confusion on Lynda’s features transformed into the intense heat of a glare.

The words sank in, and Lynda was not a fan.

“So I’d be your spy.” She said, trying and failing to hide the twist in her lips that turned displeasure into sneering contempt. “You want a handle on what’s going on.”

“No.”

“You’re just looking for someone to feed you information and risk their lives while you sit safe, aren’t you?”

“Messengers, no!” Merry-weather stood up, the force of his conviction driving him from his chair. To most people it would offer a place to look down from, but to Lynda it just allowed him to look her in the eye. “That’s not what I want at all!”

“Then what is your game?” Lynda asked, her voice low but still sharp. Merry-weather took a breath and sat back down.

“I know what this must seem like.” Merryweather continued, pulling his chair back up to the desk. “You have done me a grand favour and I, in turn, have thrown you into a pit trap for my own gain but the idea is that if we are able to get you into an occupation that isn’t just brute force, one connected to authority, then you might be able to not only talk to your people but for your people. You can help grease the way for change.”

“I’m not sure I can properly talk for ‘my people’; I’ve been so much more fortunate…” Lynda hesitated, holding the hot drink in her hands as she took a breath herself, steadying frayed nerves and chastising herself for the irritation that sat in her throat like a poison.

“I know, but you can be what we need to try and make things right. Perhaps, with your help, you can just let the peacekeepers and the others know just how frustrated the changed people are. They get many reports about how on edge the average citizen is, but little to try and speak the other way. Maybe, just maybe, we can use you to help this.”

“Use…?” Lynda asked, glancing towards the aristocrat, who grimaced in reply.

“A poor choice of words, nothing more.” He uttered, resting a hand on his bandaged head. “The medicine my gracious maid has prepared has caused me a few difficulties it would seem.” The smile that slipped from behind the large bandages seemed quite genuine, in an almost fatherly way. “But my intent is sincere; I wish to help the changed people how I can.”

“The changed people.” Lynda muttered into her mug, looking down from the Lord’s one good eye.

“Yes, a much better way to define you rather than Aberrations, a word that means abhorrent, or even Outcaste which details how you are not even a caste of people that should be considered.”

“I…would hope we might be defined by our actions, like everyone else is, rather than our species.”

Lord Merryweather lent back in his chair, taking up the tumbler of whisky once more and rolling it around the glass.

“A fair point.” He admitted, after a moment of thought had passed. He took a sip and continued to look to the giant. “A fair point indeed, but one not shared by many if any outside of this building; after all the authorities just see you as part of a faceless mass that deserve little time and even less respect.”

“This all sounds oddly familiar.” Lynda muttered. “So you’re not expecting me to go digging?”

“Of course not, I’d never ask you to do such a thing; obviously if you find something in your searches that speaks to some hidden corruption of our system then I would appreciate you telling me but I’m not going to ask you to dig through their information. Besides, if it is of a criminal nature I doubt they would keep paperwork of it lying around. Not even the Peacekeepers are that dim.”

“No, perhaps not.” Lynda said, looking down to her drink once more before taking a sip.

A silence allowed them to cool their thoughts, the air only split slight at the noise of a sip or a slurp.

“...Of course, If you agree to this,-” Merry-weather began. “-we need to put you under an officer that can be trusted which may prove to be the undoing of this entire plan.” A hand slipped to a draw and pulled from it a small notebook bound in thin and floppy leather. It wasn’t laid down reverentially as the previous book was, but instead was slapped down as if to show contempt for such an object.

Slipping his fingers to the string, the Lord began to open the book. “There’s a few people that owe me a favour or two, and some that only go along with this sort of thing to save their own hide so with the right backup…”

“My brother joined them today.”

“He did?” Merry-weather slid the book shut and pulled it back off the desk and into the draw it had come from.

“Yes.” Lynda placed the hot chocolate on the counter and stood up. “As fun as this is, I need to go check he’s okay. I didn’t see him there, but I have no idea if he was at the protests or got hurt. I just want to go and make sure he’s not...” She trailed off, not wishing to finish the thought.

“More likely than not a young man on his first outing would have been at the office or making sure the rest of the city was protected rather than front lining a mob revolt.” A fresh page of parchment was drawn. “What is his name?”

“Alexander Clark.” Lynda said. “No ‘e’ at the end.”

“Not Marker?” Merry-weather cocked and eyebrow and scrawled the name.

“No.” Lynda said. Merry-weather paused as if to anticipate an explanation, but when none was forthcoming he simply shifted the parchment to one side and stood up.

“Very well, if you’re amenable I’ll get this sorted tomorrow morning…Or rather later this morning, once I’ve had a chance to take a nap.” Merry-weather’s hand extended to Lynda, who looked at it. There wasn’t contempt in her expression, but a certain caution had filled her countenance as her mind played through her options.

Lynda stood up from her chair, and once more offered what she could for a curtsy.

“I thank-you for the opportunity, however…” She paused, rubbing the ache away from one arm. “…I’ll need some time to consider, if…if that’s amenable to you.” What righteousness or boldness that had filled her heart had fled.

There was a small pause, as Merry-weather looked at Lynda with a fixed gaze until he leaned back in his chair where, now sporting a look of disappointment as he placed the quill down and once more took up the glass orb from its small stand. Still he did his best to keep a friendly demeanour as he played with the glass orb.

“I can’t deny that I am somewhat disappointed, however I understand that perhaps this isn’t the right time to consider. After all, I certainly won’t be forgetting last evening any time soon.” He rubbed the bandage that covered one eye with the back of his hand.

From somewhere behind Lynda there was a clearing of a throat, to which he promptly dropped his hand as if it was never there in the first place.

“Anyway, perhaps you might want to consider getting some actual sleep, and we’ll come back to this another time.” He took up the parchment in one hand and very carefully put it to the side, though not much outside of his sight. “If you change your mind, just return here and we’ll go from there.”

“Thank-you, sir.”

With a nod, Lynda limped out of the study. She looked back briefly and saw the Lord no longer looking in her direction, but staring at the tree while playing with the glass orb in hand as if something of an epiphany had been had. A frown tugged at Lynda’s mouth and, only pausing long enough to give her thanks to Bella on the way down, removed herself from the luxurious confines to which she found herself and back onto the streets of Trinima, the cool wind blustering across her cheek and through her long black hair as the sky had begun to change colours.

Taking only a moment to orientate her to the city, Lynda turned in the direction of home and began the long trudge through streets that, in some cases, had started to awaken to another day.