Chapter 16 #2
After Myth translated for King Celrin, the elven monarch thoughtfully tilted his head.
“I do not believe it was foolishness so much as greed. The items in storage were all ones that implicated him, given that he had previously claimed they had been lost and misplaced from a prior order, but destroying them would have meant letting go of a large profit, and it seems to me that money is Lord Julyan’s main concern. ”
Myth took a breath and then translated the elf king’s words, using grasping hand gestures to help get her point across.
King Petyrr nodded thoughtfully when she finished, and then used the hand gestures for “yes” and “regret”.
Myth couldn’t have guessed what exactly he was referring to, and judging by Arvel’s confused expression, neither did he.
But King Celrin understood. He set his hand on King Petyrr’s shoulder and gave him a painful smile.
Feeling like she was intruding on a moment between dear friends, Myth folded her hands in front of her and made an effort to look around the gardens and admire them.
The overcast sky above held back the hot and oppressive summer sun, making the stroll pleasant as they walked down a path marked out by hedges nearly as tall as Myth and bushes trimmed to resemble animals.
Despite the clouds, the songbirds were out in droves, as were fat bees and jewel-colored butterflies, though the air had a slightly smoky scent to it compared to its usual floral smell.
“What’s important is that Arvel has built a solid case.
When the Fultons come to trial in two days I’ll be able to make a true and sound judgment that they cannot deny given the mountain of evidence you have turned over to the Department of Investigation,” King Petyrr said abruptly.
He jiggled the happily panting pug that he carried in one arm, then softly stroked the dog’s head.
The pug seemed almost overcome with joy at the attention and snorted happily in the king’s arms.
“I’m glad—though I wasn’t alone. Myth helped my two trade translators copy all the orders that were recorded in Elvish, and she made duplicates of my finds in Elvish for King Celrin.” Arvel’s smile was as warm as the sun as he reached out and briefly cupped Myth’s elbow.
King Petyrr tilted his head like a curious bird, and he studied Arvel as Myth translated the crown prince’s words for King Celrin.
“Yes, we must thank you for the pivotal role you have played in all of this, Translator Mythlan,” King Celrin said in response. “You have helped in many portions of the investigation.”
“Indeed,” King Petyrr added once Myth had translated for him. “We are highly gratified for all you have done—particularly since none of it is in your job description.” His curious look was back, and Myth was happily able to ignore it since she was busy translating for King Celrin.
“It was my honor to aid Arvel,” Myth said in Calnoric.
When King Petyrr blinked, she realized her error.
“That is, His Royal Highness Prince Arvel.” She rushed to translate her words into Elvish faster than necessary.
She didn’t like how intrigued King Petyrr looked—as if he was seeing a new palace cat he hadn’t noticed before.
King Petyrr looked like he wanted to ask her a question, but Arvel—thankfully—took pity on her and spoke first. “We’ll both be grateful when this is over and the Fultons are sentenced.” He smiled at Myth. “And things will slow down a bit then.”
“Aherm, yes. Perhaps.” King Petyrr busied himself with looking at the sky, until the shouts were audible.
“ Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness! ”
A pair of Honor Guards jumped a stone bench and sprinted around the hedges. They skidded to a stop and folded over in bows so fast Myth almost missed them.
“Your Majesty, there’s been an attack at the Department of Investigation,” one of the Honor Guards relayed through gasps of air.
“What?” King Petyrr barked.
“What happened?” Arvel asked as Myth murmured a translation for King Celrin.
“A fire,” the Honor Guard said. “A fire was lit inside the department. It was mostly contained, and there were only a few minor injuries, but the director of the department wanted to send word because the fire started in his office.”
Myth turned white. “Wasn’t he handling all the records for the Fultons’ trial?”
“Yes,” Arvel said grimly. “What are the chances they’ve all been destroyed?”
Myth’s tongue felt thick and clumsy as she tried to tell King Celrin what had happened.
The elven king’s expression darkened just as King Petyrr shook his head and roared.
“No,” King Petyrr growled. “I’ll not tolerate this.” He gently passed off the pug to the Honor Guard and started to stride in the direction of the Department of Investigation, King Celrin, Myth, and Arvel right behind him.
“ Your Majesty! Your Royal Highness! ”
Dread filled Myth’s belly—what else could be wrong?
Two more Honor Guards sprinted through the hedges, coming from the opposite direction.
“Yes, what is it?” King Petyrr called.
“Fire,” one of the guards managed to wheeze out as he almost toppled over while bowing.
“I’ve already been informed about the fire in the Department of Investigation.”
The second Honor Guard shook his head. “No—fire…in the library !”