37th of Season of Earth, 220th year of the 32nd cycle
Newt didn’t take part in the meetings. They happened between exalts, and more than once, Gatemaster Greenthorn had snuck out of the island, with Newt going to his abode for their regular lessons only to read books or meditate on his own.
He had been gone for over two moons, with everything running smoothly, when the inevitable happened.
“Newstar,” Lady Alabaster knocked on the door of his residence. “We have two Lords from the heresy hunters. They would like to speak with the gatemaster, but our orders are not to interrupt him and to come to you instead.”
The information leaked. He didn’t let his nervousness show on his face as he opened the door.
“I have the gatemaster’s seal.” He smiled, projecting confidence. “It should be enough to discuss whatever matters they might have with Explorer’s Gate.”
Lady Alabaster stared at him for a moment.
“You know, had anyone told me you’d be my superior in just one hundred and fifty years, I wouldn’t have believed them. Not to mention that I’m only getting a vague impression of your aura.”
Newt stopped in the middle of closing the door.
“Where did that come from, Master?”
“You look like you need a confidence boost before talking with the imperial civil servants.”
Newt looked at her mischievous smile and shook his head as the door closed softly behind him. Heresy hunters were as much civil servants as executioners.
“Where did my strict, serious master go? Whatever happened to that woman?”
“She fell in love and is planning to get married, since the eighth realm is beyond her.”
Newt nearly stumbled at that.
“Congratulations,” he said after a moment. “Who’s the lucky man?”
“Flameax.”
Had he been drinking tea, he would’ve spat it out in shock.
“I… honestly didn’t see that coming. When? How?”
“We have been spending a lot of time lately working on a shared project, and with the project over, we realized we missed seeing each other and started spending time together privately. You’re an engaged man, you know how it works, one thing led to another—”
“Thank you, Master! I don’t need to know, and I don’t need the detailed explanations either.”
“Are you sure?” She giggled. “You might learn something? For example, when he—”
“No!”
Lady Alabaster giggled again. “See? All that nervousness you felt about seeing the heresy hunters is completely gone now.”
Newt looked at her, tempted to check whether she was lying, despite how rude it was.
“Did you just make all that up to make me feel uncomfortable?”
“Heavens, no, I wouldn’t lie to my precious little student. Why, when lil’ Flamy—”
“Stop!” Newt collected himself. “I’ll go see the heresy hunters. I won’t be nervous, so don’t worry.”
They walked in silence for a minute before Newt had to ask.
“Aren’t you worried about your kids?”
“Why?” Lady Alabaster raised her eyebrow.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Nothing, it’s just.” He put his hand around the middle of his chest, which was roughly how tall Lady Alabaster and Lord Flameax were. And Newt himself was quite the average height.
“They will be healthy, quick, and nimble, thank you very much. You should see what—”
“No. Thank you. I was wrong; your children will be perfect. Especially with you as their parents, there’s nothing that could possibly go wrong with them.”
“Did you just jinx us?”
“Never, Master. I’m just saying you were an excellent teacher, as was your future husband. You will undoubtedly make great parents in small packages.”
The back and forth continued until they reached the residences for elite students, where the order’s guests could wait in relative comfort.
Newt entered the house alone, finding the two heresy hunters standing inside. Their auras indicated they were at the ninth realm, while their half-green, half-gold uniforms indicated they ranked high in the imperial administration.
Since Newt wasn’t the gatemaster, he offered them a bow worthy of their status and realm.
“Good day, my Lord and Lady. I am Newstar Salamandra, Gatemaster Greenthorn’s student, and I speak and listen with his authority.” He presented them with the gatemaster’s signet ring, speaking and moving slowly enough even for non-awakened to follow.
The heresy hunters showed no such courtesy.
“Why isn’t your master here?” the woman asked at the full speed of her realm, the words flowing so quickly, Newt barely caught their meaning.
“My master is currently otherwise occupied, and it would be ill-advised for us to interrupt him,” Newt said, bending the truth without difficulty. “Anything you have to say, I will listen, and I swear on my life that my master will know it once he’s available.”
The woman squinted at him. The man, much more relaxed and cordial, spoke in the polite speed of the non-awakened.
“We are passing imperial edicts and auditing the forces we visit. We will need to know how many members of each realm your order has, how many war supplies, and your crafting capabilities. As for the edict, it is only for the leaders of the orders, but seeing you have the corresponding signet, we can share it with you.”
The woman still glared at Newt even as her companion gave him the golden tablet.
“I see,” he said after reading it at a glance. “We are going to war against the cultists, and we have to report by the winter solstice.”
Newt would have preferred more time for them to flee the empire, but he had no idea what the imperials were plotting this time. The plan certainly wasn’t only to destroy the groups with questionable loyalty. Otherwise, they would have besieged and destroyed them one by one.
On the other hand, he had no doubt that the ones on the front lines would be the exact same forces as those who had the honor of being the vanguard in the counterattack against the saurians.
“How many people at each rank are we expected to bring?”
“That depends on what we find in our audit.”
Newt nodded. “We can check our current inventory at the Chamber of Commerce. Please follow me.”
The man looked at him, an eyebrow slightly lifted in surprise. “Chamber of Commerce?”
“Don’t ask. This started as an informal, small gathering of people looking to explore the world and secret realms. We have a Chamber of Pots, that’s the Alchemy Department, or Division in most normal orders, but we can’t change the names. When I asked, they quoted filial piety, but I just think someone around here dislikes alchemists.”
The man appeared amused; the woman seemed offended that she was breathing the same air as people who would name their alchemy division the Chamber of Pots. Still, they followed Newt to Explorer’s Gate’s merchants and quartermasters to check their ledgers and what they had in stock.
What they found was mostly disappointing as high-quality weapons, armor, and trinkets were all personal property. Something few could afford.
“I think we will need an inventory of your senior members’ personal belongings,” the woman said as if she was asking him about the weather.
“I’m not sure I can do that, my Lady. Personal belongings are personal. They are something I have no right to inquire about. If you are interested in making an inventory of them, we can schedule for you to discuss the subject with each of our members individually. While I have spent most of my life here at the order, digging into someone’s spatial pouch is considered bad manners everywhere. At least as far as I know.”
The woman bristled, but her companion put a hand on her shoulder.
“He is not wrong.” He then looked at Newt. “Pardon our overeagerness to complete our orders. Perfectly.”
“Nothing you should apologize for.” Newt could already see how the two were trying to pressure him, but he played dumb. “Is there any specific reason we are going against the cultists now? As far as I know, they have been lying low for over half a century, ever since the incident following the Summersweald onslaught.”
“They have been lying low for too long, and we have reason to suspect that they are building strength for their next attack. As such, we wish to strike preemptively.”
Newt nodded. The reason they offered was nonsense.
I hate politics.
Lately, the thought found itself inside his head more often than he would have liked. Still, he brought them to see the full personnel register in the Chamber of Punishment, along with the special talents the members had.
From what Newt could tell, their younger generations had a healthy percentage of dedicated craftsmen, something he hadn’t paid attention to before.
He played the perfect host, leading them around the island, answering every question and addressing every concern he could.
“Thank you for your candor,” the man said. “I don’t think anyone we’ve visited was as forthcoming, but we will need to speak with your master about something too sensitive for your young ears. Could you lead us to him?”
