She stared at the paperwork, clenching it so hard that she made wrinkles in the paper.

Civic Status Ledger — Indenture Determination Update
Imperial Year 456

Subject: Chloe [No Surname]
Classification: Orphan (Unclaimed)

Pursuant to Imperial Civic Burden Provisions, the subject was reassigned eleven years prior from provisional wardship to Legal Indenture, following determination of non-viability for independent civic participation.

Term of indenture to remain in force until the subject’s twenty-first year or until full reconciliation of recorded benefactor obligations, whichever occurs first.

Duration to date: Eleven years served.
Remaining term: Four years.

Benefactor Ledger:

• Ardin Jakes — obligation satisfied
• Camillia’s Place — obligation satisfied
• Lord Loraven Ma’Shite of House Ma’Shite — obligation outstanding

Notes:

Subject impairment recorded: mute.
Independent civic viability unverified.
Status review deferred pending debt resolution or term completion.

Original Determination Authority

Issued under Civic Burden Assessment, Imperial Year 445
By delegated authority of House Vossel

Signed,
Marcel Trovain
Civic Assessor, Orphan Reassignment Office
House Vossel Administration, Evelyn, Lynia

Annual Status Review — Affirmation

Reviewed for compliance and continuation under current Civic Indenture standards.
No material change to classification identified.

Signed,
Elira Venn
Acting Registrar of Civic Status
Office of Public Records, Evelyn, Lynia
Imperial Year 456

She’d known.

A part of her knew that this still existed, but for some reason, actually seeing it took the air out of her. She closed her eyes, just so she couldn’t see it as she tried to stop her hands from shaking.

When she’d been a child, she hadn’t understood half of what this said. Tears! She couldn’t even read it properly, even when she had seen it. When teaching her to read, her uncle had taught her key words to look for in documents, gave her tools to copy them, and left her to figure out the rest.

It meant that, legally, she was a slave.

The ‘benefactor obligations’ were probably so great that it was beyond what she could work off. If something happened to Ma’Shite, and if he didn’t have something in place to protect her, she could easily end up at a slave auction.

It wasn’t fair.

But since when could she, a mute and an orphan, expect fairness?

Slowly, she put the paper away, taking a moment to just breathe. There were no tears, just a hard lump in her stomach. Then she straightened and gritted her teeth.

I'm safe, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. I'm safe because Ma'Shite would never allow me harm.

With renewed determination, she opened the next drawer.

Fortunately, here, finally, were the lawsuit papers. With a grim smile, she selected one and read through the charges. Accusations against Ma’Shite’s shipment of tea leaves, claiming that they were moldy and unusable. They weren't grown by him, but he would've had a hard time getting them released to him for use.

Taking a piece of paper and a pencil from the desk, she returned and wrote down names and what they’d harassed Ma’Shite for. A handful of them had repeatedly attacked the elf on different fronts, depending on where their businesses crossed each other.

She was almost done with the list when a repeated name suddenly popped out at her.

Vossel.

The hair stood on the back of her neck, and she shivered.

Licking her lips, she hesitated only a second, but then saw what they’d accused Ma’Shite of. Housing inspection. Specifically, this was a dispute over the safety of the orphanage's roof.

Momentarily, she was furious simply by the content. How many homes and housings were ignored, but they point out this?! But then, she paused again. Vossel.

She knew this name. It came up, both as a client and as a subject of spying, when she worked for her uncle. But, here…

She opened the drawer with her paperwork in it.

There, towards the bottom, Vossel. The paperwork had been done under their authority. Meaning it was this House that had decided she was a burden on society and legally redesignated as a slave.

When she went back to the other drawer and reviewed the paperwork again, more slowly this time, she found them again.

The inspectors for the tea leaves, Vossel. Housing lawsuits. Child security guarantees, frozen and dragged out for months. Compliance audits, permit disputes, quality challenges… Vossel was either connected as an inspector or the one to raise the claim in nearly every case.

Chloe smiled grimly.

I think we’ve got our target, she thought with satisfaction as she put everything away, closed the bookcase, and left with her decoy books.

They really did look interesting. But it might take her a few hours before she could read any of them.

***

Eblin: 15 Years Old

Eblin flinched.

He’d seen his father angry before, all the time. But that was a dark, silent anger. It was detectable in the way his father flexed his fingers in his gloves, moved his eyebrows as he took in his surroundings, and said his words around his political smile.

That’s why this open, explosive anger was so terrifying.

He didn’t even have the courage to move his foot when the Regent threw a vase, tensing as the ceramic barely missed and shattered next to him.

Every nerve said to stay still. Don’t move, don’t get noticed.

It took what felt like an eternity for him to understand that it wasn't him his father was angry at. But he was too tense and too focused on his own discomfort to piece together the actual culprit.

“Find out,” his father snapped at the man cowering in front of his desk. “Find out what's going on and how it happened.”

“Yes, My Lord. Right away, My lord.”

The man practically ran from the room, as unnerved by the uncharacteristic display of anger as Eblin was.

Seemingly completely forgotten, Eblin watched his father from where he stood against a wall, hands behind his back and shoulders hunched. The man sat very still, hands on his chair arms as he broodily glared at his desk.

Then his face suddenly smoothed and he stood up. 

“Boy, light this candle for me.”

Eblin jumped at being so abruptly addressed. Then he scampered over. He held out a hand to the candle and hesitated. For a second, he was inside that wardrobe again, smelling smoke and panic overwhelming him. 

He couldn't use his magic. He was trapped!

“What's the problem?”

He snapped back and flashed a scared look at his father. More afraid of the man than the memory, he finally accessed his mana. The spell seemed to be trying to overcompensate for his second of hesitation because the flame burst into being with a bigger flash than normal. 

If his father noticed, though, he didn't say anything. 

“Haaa.”

His father let out a long, annoyed sigh as he picked up the message that had started his rage. He held it over the flame, letting it burn in silence. 

When he was done, he tossed it into a metal bin. Eblin vaguely noticed that the bin had signs of being used this way often. 

“Were you properly treated?”

Eblin flinched. He'd lost most of his hair, before and after, due to fire damage, but otherwise it was obvious that there were no lingering side effects. 

If his father would only look at him properly, he'd know that. 

A lump that was completely different from his fear formed in his throat. “Yes, Father.”

“How did it start?”

Eblin shifted, eyes down. As much as he wanted Alvis punished, and as angry as he was at the other boy, he knew Alvis had not meant to start a fire. The boy had been nearly as frightened as Eblin and Roryce, and had even been instrumental in getting the mages there as fast as they had.

He was the reason the groundskeeper had found them.

The reason behind the fire was the candle. It had been knocked over and forgotten in the rush.

Alvis still needed punishment. Eblin didn't plan on letting him go free just because he hadn't let them die. But… he refused to put the matter in his father's hands. 

Instinctively, he knew that Alvis would not walk away ok.

“I was practicing and it got out of control,” he lied. 

“Don't let it happen again,” was his father's cold reply. He pulled something out of his pocket. “Do whatever it takes to placate House Mendon. I expect that returned in a week.”

Startled, Eblin picked up the signet shield and looked at his father with wide eyes. Could this be—?

“You… trust me to take care of this?”

The signet was a symbol of authority and trust. The person who had it had full access to all the resources of the House. For a second, his lungs expanded in something akin to ecstasy…

Only to deflate an instant later. 

“No, but they're insisting that they will only work with you on reparations since it was your mana traces that started the fire. Now, I have work to do. Get out.”

Eblin dropped his chin and did a remarkable job hiding his sudden tears as he said, “Yes, Father.”

Once in the empty hallway, he paused to look at the signet shield.

Not trust, then. He even knew before asking that Eblin was likely the cause.

He didn't even want the whole story. 

Eblin was glad for the coach ride back to the Academy. It gave him time to squish his useless inner turmoil into a mental box and shove it into a dark corner of his being.

As expected, he found Roryce in the infirmary wing.

The other boy hadn't gone far from their savior since the fire three days ago, even being treated while sitting in a chair next to his cot. His eyes were hollow and his lips pinched. He didn't look up as Eblin took a seat next to him. 

They both watched the man sleep. 

At Roryce's insistence, and with his one excursion to the bank and back, the healers and their students worked on his burns. Not well enough to erase the scarring, since it was mostly treated as practice for the students, but the man would live. 

Now he just needed to wake up. 

Eblin had an additional worry on his mind. Now that the groundskeeper's face was recognizable, he could see it was the same man who'd caught him sneaking back onto Academy grounds.

As grateful as he was, he was also anxious. The man not only knew one of Eblin's most important secrets, but he now had Eblin in his debt.

For a couple of days now, Eblin had been trying to figure out how to pay this man off without alerting the Regent.

“They said he should wake up today or tomorrow morning.”

Eblin glanced at his companion. Roryce’s voice was flat, like he was reading a particularly dry history synopsis.

When Eblin didn’t answer, the other boy continued dully. “I tried to contact his family, but no one knows where he lives. And no one’s come to ask.”

That wasn’t surprising. The groundskeepers would be living on Academy grounds, with or without their families. It was probably another week or more before he had time off, so his family wouldn’t even know to worry until then.

Eblin shifted uncomfortably.

“Alvis said he ran in as soon as he heard we were in there.”

Roryce finally moved, but it was to give Eblin such a look of disgust that Eblin couldn’t help shrinking away.

“You’re still talking to him? After all of that?”

Eblin stiffened defensively. “We’re not friends or anything, but I can hardly avoid him forever.”

The silence returned, this time as icy as a winter’s chill.

It left room for nothing but thinking, and Eblin was horribly aware of the weight in his pocket. Should he pull it out now? Start the reparation negotiations with Roryce? Or was there a better way to do this?

If only his father cared enough to give him some hints.

Before he could think of a way to bring it up, the quiet of the infirmary was shattered by a woman’s loud, arrogant voice. Roryce instantly jumped to his feet, gaping as his face paled.