Chapter 59: The Problem With Petitions (and the Gargoyle With Exactly One Braincell)
Chapter 59: The Problem With Petitions (and the Gargoyle With Exactly One Braincell)
Ignivar learned one thing today: the only person in existence who could make Zorathys do something he didn’t want to do—truly didn’t want to do—was Elyn. Even then, the demon king did it with the enthusiasm of a cat being forced into a bath, but he still did it. He did it sloppily but it was better than nothing.
Ignivar couldn’t decide if Zorathys feared her, respected her, or both. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that in over five hundred years, not one person had managed what this small human woman had achieved in less than a week.
She’d gotten the demon king to work.
He was convinced she had powers like a demon had. She had to. There was no other explanation.
Elyn sat slumped in the chair now, looking like her soul had already left her body.
"How is this my life?" she sighed, rubbing her face.
"My lady, maybe you should just do the work instead?" Rin suggested innocently.
Elyn ignored her completely, picked up one of the petition scrolls, and turned to Ignivar with dead, exhausted eyes.
"Do you think it would be possible to resend all these petitions so they can be rewritten?"
"Rewritten?" Ignivar echoed.
"Yes," she said, almost desperate. "I can’t make sense of half the things written here because Zorathys decided to choose the easiest way out."
"Um... that’s not possible, my lady," Ignivar admitted.
Elyn slumped further. "I thought as much."
Ignivar actually felt bad for her. Truly bad. She was more willing to do Zorathys’s work than Zorathys himself. That alone was astonishing. And she wasn’t even a demon.
"There is another way," he said.
Elyn perked up. Barely. But it was something. "What is it?"
"Naviel and I usually handle the bulk of the work after Zorathys has done his part," Ignivar explained. "Most of the petitions have the petitioners’ names on them. And if not, we can identify the region they came from through the type of paper used."
Elyn nodded slowly, listening.
"So what we do," Ignivar continued, "is call the petitioners in directly. We question them ourselves to determine if their requests should be approved or rejected. Even after Zorathys has done whatever it is he thinks he’s doing. Because... well, you just saw it."
The mountain of chaos on the table said enough.
"So we call them in," Elyn repeated. "That’s what you’re saying."
"Yes."
"But the issue," he continued, "is how we’ll call them. Normally, we use the gargoyles. But these petitions are from over five hundred years ago."
Elyn tapped her fingers on the scroll, thinking hard.
"What if we split the workload?" she suggested. "We select petitions in batches. Maybe thirty per day. Little by little."
Ignivar considered this. "Yes," he agreed. "That could work."
"But um..." Morthen began, adjusting his glasses and pushing them higher up his nose, "how do we send word to these petitioners? Some of them may not be in the capital anymore. And you—" he pointed at Elyn "—are supposed to be formally introduced to the nobles before meeting anyone else in the realm."
"True," Ignivar said with a nod.
That was exactly why the nobles had gathered yesterday. And if Ignivar hadn’t run into her outside Zorathys’s room, he wouldn’t have met her yet. Queens weren’t to be encountered casually. They were to be introduced.
"Does Zorathys know about this?" Elyn asked.
"Yes, my lady."
"And does he look like he’s willing to do it?" she asked bluntly.
Ignivar sighed. "The nobles gathered yesterday assuming he would introduce you to us... but he postponed."
"To when?"
"Further notice."
Elyn threw her hands up. "Typical Zorathys."
Rin nodded sympathetically.
Honestly, with Elyn and Zorathys interacted, one would think they’ve known each other for years. If not for the fact that Ignivar knee they had only known each other for about a week, he would think so.
Vaelory stepped forward. "How about she meets with the common subjects first? She can have the formal introduction later."
"That is not how it is done," Morthen countered immediately.
Vaelory crossed her arms. "If she delays her work, the documents will pile further. And there are over five hundred years’ worth of them."
"She must still be recognized by the nobles first," Morthen insisted. "If she is not introduced, they will obstruct her work."
Before Vaelory could argue again, a knock sounded.
Morthen opened the door—then shut his eyes briefly in weary resignation.
It was the same gargoyle Ignivar had sent ten minutes ago.
The creature hovered at eye level, flapping short stone bat wings. His legs dangled uselessly beneath him. His face—round, heavy, and carved from grey stone—wore a permanent expression of confusion. His huge round stone eyes stared blankly, as though he was processing thoughts at the rate of one per century. His mouth sat slightly parted, like he had been caught mid-question and forgot what he was asking.
"Yes?" Morthen said tightly.
"Lord Ignivar sent me on an errand," the gargoyle said slowly. "I seem... to have forgotten it."
Elyn silently put her face in her hands.
Ignivar’s temples throbbed. He’d lost count of how many times this same gargoyle had returned. Messenger gargoyles were not like Marrok, who was of higher intelligence. These ones were... basic. One braincell. On a good day.
But they were obedient. Tireless. Durable. And expendable, if necessary. Which was why they were used despite the headaches they caused.
"Get Naviel," Ignivar said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Tell him to come here."
The gargoyle blinked slowly. Then blinked again. His wings beat harder, lifting him a little higher.
He bowed stiffly, like a rock trying to curtsy and drifted away.
The room was silent.
"As I was saying," Morthen continued, pretending his sanity was still intact, "My lady must first be recognized by the nobles. If not, her work will be obstructed."
"You are not a noble, are you?" Vaelory asked him bluntly.
"I am not."
"Then how would you know? A noble should give input."
"I am a noble," Ignivar said. "Duke of the Hellfire Territory. And Morthen is correct. They will obstruct her."
Vaelory stared at him, weighing his words. Then she slowly turned to Elyn.
Elyn opened her mouth to speak when they suddenly heard another knock at the door.
A collective groan echoed through the room.
Ignivar marched to the door, yanked it open, and barked, "I said to get Naviel!"
"Um... Ignivar?" a quiet voice said. "It’s me."
Ignivar froze. "Oh."