For the Glory of Minos

Victoria Montgomery, great-granddaughter of St George Montgomery, the founder of modern Hatlynshire and the first Grand Prince of the House of Montgomery. Was born in the year 47 AF. Her reign would begin in the year 67 AF, after the tragic death of her father, Claude Montgomery, by his own hand followed by the disastrous and short reign of her mother, Alissa Cristenwall, as regent on behalf of her brother. Upon her ascension to the throne, she would proceed to bring reform to the government of Great Borough, the ruling body of Hatlynshire. She would do so through actions such as changing the Chamber of the Governing Commission (C.G.C), Great Borough’s main administrative body, from a council of hereditary governors to a democratically elected council. She would also the Great Enterprises, government sponsored business ventures designed in order to limit the power of the New Industrial Movement (NIM), an organization of anti-government businessmen who were becoming the government’s greatest threat.

However, Victoria’s attempts to undermine the NIM would lead to the escalation of tensions, and after several smaller engagements, in the year 78 AF, the government and the NIM went into a full-scale conflict known as War of the Coin.

During the war, in the year 84 AF, Victoria would receive the assistance of Bernard Millfield Sorah, a banker and an elected member of the CGC from the region of Canterberg in Great Borough. Sorah himself came from a family of civil servants and bankers. While his early ancestry remains a mystery due to lack of reliable records, some records suggest that he was the son of a man named Mr. John Sorah, a banker and an associate of the NIM associated Bank of West Borough (the early name for present day Everton Borough). His mother was thought to be Lady Fran Millfield, daughter of former Lord Henrick Millfield, the last representative of Canterberg under the old hereditary CGC.

While some speculate that it was due to the influence of the House of Millfield in Canterberg, and others speculate that it was purely due to Sorah’s alleged charm and charisma, in late 83 AF Sorah would be elected to the seat of Canterberg in the Chamber of the Governing Commission. His victory would be infamous due to him defeating the candidate brought forward by Victoria herself in order to achieve the seat, the consequence of such a victory would be the initial hostility he would receive both from the Grand Princess and the other members of the CGC. However, with the War of Coin still seeing no resolution, Sorah would successfully reverse the attitudes he received by proposing his daring plan to change Hatlynshire’s currency in 86 AF. Such an endeavor, enacted late in the year 87 AF, would bring the NIM to its knees and thereby end the War of the Coin in the year 89 AF, leading to Sorah becoming both a hero and one of the most powerful individuals in Hatlynshire as well (as some allege) Grand Princess Victoria’s lover.

Victora and Bernard

Theories of Victoria and Sorah’s relationship date back as far back as the 1st Century itself. While it has never been proven beyond a shadow of doubt that it occurred, many historians believe that it did. One of the points of argument regarding this supposed fling is the year in which it began. Some argue that it occurred after the War of the Coin, given Sorah’s new found prestige. Others however, debate this claim, deeming it as false due to the fact that the supposed result of this affair, Bernard’s daughter Olivia B. Sorah, was confirmed to have been born the year 86 AF, a mere two years after Bernard Sorah’s election to the CGC.

After the war had ended, Sorah was made the first Head Treasurer of the Bureau of Taxation and Commerce whilst still maintaining his status as the CGC representative of Canterberg. And to add to this, in the year 90 AF (when Olivia was supposedly four years old), Sorah was made Director of the Hatlynshire City Bank. This position effectively made him the head of the Great Enterprises as the H.C.B was foundation through which all the other corporations stood. Furthermore, the duo’s popularity surged in Great Borough, as, after the fall of NIM, the Great Enterprises became the largest corporations in Hatlynshire. The profit they generated increased government income fivefold. Victorian then ordered that taxes on citizens be lowered by nearly sixty percent, a move made under the advice of Sorah.  This alongside his reputation led to Sorah being called ‘The Prince of Coins’, a name that confirmed his status as the most influential person in Hatlynshire outside of the House of Montgomery. However, it was this status (and his public friendship with the Grand-Princess) that would first attract attention towards his daughter  .

Victoria, for her part, did not hide the fact that she favored Sorah above all her other officials. Between 90 AF until the New Century Conspiracy, she would endorse Sorah’s run for the CGC twice, causing him to be reelected both times. While some argue that this preferential treatment was evidence of a deeper relationship, others were quick to note that both Victoria and her predecessors had a history of favoritism and that her support of Sorah was due to his competency and his loyalty to the crown. Yet Sorah himself inadvertently challenged these arguments. For, despite having a daughter as early on as the year 86 AF, he was never married and no record exists as to whether he made a statement regarding his daughter during Oilvia’s childhood. This was despite him knowing about the rumors about Olivia’s true heritage.

“…There have been whispers in government halls. Some about Victoria and some about me. I do not wish to listen to them yet they fly into my ears nonetheless. They’re mostly about Oli, about her supposed illegitimacy. I can only imagine that there are many here who would be delighted to profit from my downfall, but no matter, I have had worse rumors spread about me, as you know. But perhaps Oli could spend a fortnight or two with you and father. Dare I say, you don’t see her enough…”

- A letter sent by Bernard Sorah in the autumn of 85 AF to his mother Fran Millsfied. (Recovered from the Millfield Archives acquired by the Institute of Records under the Chamber of Education in the year 370 AF)

The New Century Conspiracy

However, not long after the rumors had begun to spread, Sorah’s downfall would come. Since, in late 99 AF, Victoria’s brother Carlton Montgomery alongside his supporters, known as the Liberationists, would initiate what is now called the New Century Conspiracy and depose his sister. Yet, despite proclaiming his loyalty to the crown, Sorah would be among the first to oppose Carlton. Sorah would become the new Grand Prince’s most vocal critic and he would even be accused of aiding the organization of a counter-revolution in 100 AF. Carlton would in turn use these accusations as justification and would subsequently remove Sorah from all his positions of power. By the end of the year 100 AF, Sorah was demoted to a mere assistant secretary for the Director of the Hatlynshire City Mining Company, a position he swiftly resigned from less than a week after being assigned. Carlton would also begin a smear campaign in order to ruin the reputations and the images of Victoria and her allies, including Sorah. He would remind the public of all the destruction that had occurred during the War of the Coin, Victoria’s failure during the Years of Hunger and how Sorah’s currency shift would lead to the oppression and imprisonment of thousands in the Outer Boroughs. Among all the narratives he promoted in order to unite the public against Victoria, her alleged daughter Olivia was his most prominent target. He would accuse Victoria of fostering an illegitimate child with Sorah, claiming that she intended to place Olivia on the throne. The public, who viewed anyone who did not have the Montgomery name as unworthy of the throne, took such accusations incredibly seriously. Some historians even claim that, during this period, there were several assassination attempts on both Bernard Sorah and Olivia during the year 101 AF, which led them to go into hiding. In the summer of 102 AF, Liberationist rioters would ransack and burn down the house of John Sorah and Fran Millfield in Canterberg. A few months later, rioters would assault the ancestral home of the House of Millfield, Millfield Hall, in Canterberg, an incident that would lead to Olivia’s great grandfather, Henrick, her great- uncle, Branson and several other family members being severely beaten by the Liberationist mob. Fortunately, none would perish. However, many suspect that this incident directly led to Henrick’s death less than a month later.

Riots and violence continued as Carlton would attack any who opposed him. His supporters would call supporters of Victoria ‘Steelers’ as an insult to the Grand-Princess’s infamous surname. The Industrialists (leftover after the fall of the NIM) would side with the Liberationists during the Conspiracy with hopes that Carlton would grant them more influence; however, a minority of them would stand with the Steelers, believing that Carlton would be a worse ruler compared to his sister. During this period, the locations of Victoria and the Sorah family (between the years 102- 105 AF) were kept a secret. However, in the autumn of 105 AF, Carlton would face an internal revolt carried out by his own officials due to the incompetence and paranoid behavior he had displayed during his reign. His time on the throne would lead to anti-monarchist and anti-government tensions rising for the first time since the start the War of the Coin, and his mismanagement of the Great Enterprises had pushed the economy of Halynshire to the brink of recession. “Montgomery in blood, Cristenwall at heart” and “Prince Carlton the Bravely Incompetent” would become popular phrases used by anti-government individuals to describe Carlton’s reign after he was overthrown.

On the winter of 105 AF, the Liberationist movement collapsed and Victoria was once again put on the throne. Her second reign would then begin, once again bringing power and security back to her supporters. Bernard Sorah himself would return to the government in the spring of 106 AF, some claim that, directly after her takeover of the government, Victoria had offered Sorah all his previous positions. However, for unknown reasons, Sorah had refused. The only position he actively accepted was the Directorship of the Hatlynshire City Bank. However, the conflict between the Liberationists and the Steelers would have lasting impacts, for it had essentially divided the pro-monarchy movement, complicating what had earlier been a rather simple ideological division between the monarchists and the industrialists.

Mathew Gaft and the Days in the Outer Boroughs

The year 106 AF would also mark the start of Olivia’s significance in the history of Hatlynshire. For, about two months after Bernard Sorah was appointed Director of the HCB, Olivia (now twenty) would join the HCB as a Managerial Apprentice in Great Borough where she would serve for six months (the company standard for the time) before being appointed as the Assistant Divisional Manager of the Bernstein Borough Division of the HCB by Sorah. The reasons as to why Sorah would send Olivia to the Outer Boroughs is unknown. However, after her appointment she would travel to the Divisional Office Gardencourt, Bernstein where she would serve as ADM for more than eight years between the fall of 106 AF and the spring of 115 AF. It was during this time that historian’s believe Olivia first began to keep her own personal journals. These journals would later be recovered by historians after the acquisition of the Millfield Family Archives, with the oldest one carrying entries that dated back to the fall of 106 AF.

“…The Borough of Bernstein seems to be colder than Great Borough, even in the spring. Most likely due to it being the hilliest of all the Boroughs, but also because of the factories, or the lack of specifically. This is a land of plantations and rugged determination, which leaves little room for decent educated folk. By my own observations, work at the bank is slim. Even on so called ‘rush days’ there’s barely a few hundred patrons. Mr. Gotsburg [The Divisional Manager] tells me all the country folk don’t like the City Bank, they blame us for the losses they incurred during the old war. I had assumed opinions change over the decades but perhaps there haven’t been enough decades yet. Either way, even with our considerably low number of patrons we still outmatch whatever competition we have here. They cannot possibly hope to stand up to the might of us. Mr. Gotsburg told me that we exist on friendly terms with our competitors; he called it ‘a stable ecosystem’. I can tell what he thinks of me for he does a drunkard’s job of hiding it. However, he is old, perhaps with another few years left in him. Maybe I can work better with whoever his successor will be…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 331st Day of the year 106 AF.

During her tenure as the ADM of the Bernstein Branch, Olivia would allegedly come into contact with Matthew Gaft, grandson of the late Corsman Gaft and the Assistant Director of the Gaft Mining and Refineries Co. The account of their first meeting would be described in Olivia’s journals and human historians would long debate as to the extent of their relationship given the history between the Gaft Family and Victoria Montgomery, with the Gaft’s being prominent Industrialists and possible Liberationist supporters. It was clear that this was not a mere historical coincidence but in fact the start of something much deeper as Gaft would appear in a handful of journal entries, starting in the summer of 107 AF.

“…Today was very interesting, an exceedingly rare description in these parts. Gotsburg came to me with a complaint. Apparently, one of the tellers upset a client who had come looking to purchase state bonds. From what I heard afterwards, it was quite the outburst and, as per usual, Gotsburg decided to make it my problem.

I had the client summoned to my office; he immediately began complaining about the smallest things like a proper snob, commented on everything from the order of my desk to the color of the wallpaper. Truly, I have never had the displeasure of meeting such an egotist of a man. His sense of superiority was practically bleeding out of his gold-button coat. Yet he is also the first person I have seen here who is not excruciatingly boring. I inquired as to his name, and he said he was a Mr. Matthew Gaft; this was perhaps his most interesting feature. I heard his side of the story; he even had a few choice words to describe the teller boy he almost assaulted. Looking back, he sounded almost childish.

Of course, I gave him our standard assurances and apologies and that seemed to subdue his anger. He did however, have a very pensive stare. He wouldn’t take his eyes off me while I spoke, it was rather unnerving. He asked me about several other things regarding the bank, it was quite possibly the longest conversation I’ve had since coming here. But by the time he left, he seemed almost…happy, which is yet another testament to the effectiveness of Bank mandated apologies. He even asked me my name, to which I said I was Olivia Bernard. I then sent him on his merry way, ending what was perhaps the most entertaining day interaction I’ve had in this dim desk post. I currently contemplate as to whether I should mention him in the next letter I send to my father…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 211th Day of the year 107 AF.

Though it is not clearly stated in the journals (with some claiming it to be purposeful omission), many historians throughout the ages would conclude that Olivia had a romantic interest in Gaft. Particularly after his second appearance in Olivia’s journals, roughly a week after he was first mentioned.

“I was greeted today by a non-pleasant but not entirely unexpected surprise for today, Matthew Gaft – the snobbish complainer from last week – once again found his way to my office. Although I wasn’t exactly furious. The mundane nature of my post was borderline crushing, so his presence was a welcome change of pace. Though, strangely, he didn’t seem to be in fit of rage this time. In fact, he said he came to apologize. My shock quite unimaginable.

Apparently word of his outburst had reached the ears of his father, who (as I’ve been told) is the head of the Gaft Mining and Refineries, one of the largest mining firms in all of Bernstein Borough. It seems the family couldn’t take the shame, so his father disciplined him by having him go on an apology tour. As expected, many laughed. However, I did not quite understand why he was apologizing to me, for I was not an unfortunate recipient of his ill-thought-out rage. When I asked him this, he said he made a personal decision to see me, saying he simply wished to ‘see me again’. Which I found both odd and flattering. He didn’t stay long, he swiftly made his apology and left. I would’ve kept him longer, frankly I wanted to, however I was rather preoccupied by a report Gotsburg had me compile today, that weasel is always shoving his work onto my desk. It would’ve been nice to talk to someone who clearly doesn’t know who I am. It does get awfully lonely at times.

 I have spent months in this rather tight-knit community yet am still yet to make even a single fond acquaintance. Things were always easier in Great Borough. Perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of seeing him again when he inevitably yells at another poor teller boy. An amusing prospect indeed…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 217th Day of the year 107 AF.

Historians debate as to whether the Olivia truly had anything other than a boredom-fueled but otherwise harmless interest in Gaft. However, it was clear that they would develop a friendship in the coming weeks as seen from Gafts next appearance, roughly three weeks after the aforementioned entry. During this time, she had received an invitation to the Gaft Family Gala.

“…I was unfortunately too exhausted to write my day entry last night but it seems that my time here is finally becoming worthwhile. For last night was the gala I was invited to earlier this week. Now, things began quite grim if I do say so myself, for unfortunately, Gotsburg had received the same invitation has me, so my assumption was that I would have to spend the night being his little wait servant. However, my expectations actually fell short of reality (for once). For when I accompanied Gotsburg to see the patriarch of the household, a Mr. Gerald Gaft, who was perhaps one of the oldest men in all Bernstein. And he just happened to be walking with his son, the mildly interesting Matthew Gaft. I was of course introduced to them both, and I was quite amused to meet the man who sent his son on an apology tour. Unfortunately, Gotsburg made the (perhaps intentional) mistake of introducing me as ‘Olivia Sorah’. I could tell immediately from Mr. Gaft’s face what he thought of me after that. He had a Liberationist’s gaze. However, Matthew didn’t seem to understand it. Strange.

Fortunately, before Mr. Gaft could utter a single word to me, Matthew requested that I accompany him. I of course swiftly excused myself from both Gotsburg and Mr. Gaft. We then proceeded to walk across the Gaft family estate. Which, I would note, was rather impressive. It was certainly better than anywhere father and I had lived in back in Great Borough. However, it did fall short of what I’ve seen from the Mongomery Estates…

…we ventured all the way to the estate garden. Looking back, I wonder whether he intentionally took a long route. For while we walked he inquired as to why I didn’t tell him my true name. I simply answered by saying I prefer my middle name. He then correctly guessed that I was in fact related to my father, although he did not assume I was my father’s daughter. I, in turn, merely stated that was a distant cousin of the great Bernard Sorah. He then proceeded to ask me what I thought about my father. Seeing as I was talking to a member of the House of Gaft I obviously was very critical of my father. This appeared to be the response he was hoping to get, for he then proceeded to call my father a loathsome wretch and ‘Montgomery rat’. I found it quite hard to listen to, although I doubt Gotsburg would approve of me talking back to a member of one of the most influential houses in Bernstein, so I pretended to listen while instead paying attention to the nice rose bushes. But aside from viciously slandering the name of my father. He seemed quite… polite, at least, very different compared to what I expected…

…finally, we seemed to reach the end of the gardens and to a pavilion where he seemed to be conducting a small, private celebration of his own amongst what I assumed were his peers (for they appeared about as old as I). I was once again quick to try to excuse myself. Frankly, I was baffled as to why I hadn’t done so earlier, or why he hadn’t simply left. Either way, it seems he wasn’t willing to entertain my desire to leave, for he insisted that I join his little company. I initially refused, for I did not like the look of his peers. However, he did win me over when he said they were indulging in wine brought directly from great Borough. And of course, I could not resist…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 238th Day of the year 107 AF.

It is worth noting that entries made during this time in particular are considered by many human historians to be invaluable. For they contain accounts of Oliva’s encounters with Jacob Bernstein, the former patriarch of the Bernstein Family whose signature would be one of the eight key signatures that would confirm the Great Unity Accord in 128 AF, leading to the creation of the Circle as well as his lesser known sister, Wyla. Moreover, these entries also serve as some of the only confirmed records of pre-Circulions post-War of the Coin. All these factors made this section of Olivia’s journals highly sought after among both human and Circulion scholars.

“…he introduced me to his merry band of associates. If I do recall correctly, one of them was named Frederick Darland III. I do not remember much about him, which would only indicate that he was woefully uninteresting. However, I do remember almost laughing out loud when I heard the number in his name.

But aside from him, two other people were also present at that table, and I doubt I shall ever forget them. One of them was named Jacob Bernstein (a rather creative last name). And he had come to the gala alongside his sister, Wyla, if I remember correctly. Apparently they’re both fairly large landowners, something I could see being very useful to the Gaft mining enterprise. Jacob himself was quite a strange character, mainly because he had brought a living bird to the table, a raven he called Wingston. Now, I cannot recall whether my account is truthful, for I do remember drinking quite heavily that night. Although, if my memory serves, Jacob was very close to his bird, almost to a questionable extent. I even saw him attempting to speak to it, although he seemed to have trouble talking to actual humans. His sister Wyla was no different, for she had a small dog with her, and behavior towards it was equally as strange. But from what I remember, she was a far better talker and she seemed to be quite abstinent when it came to alcohol, which I think is rather unfortunate. I recall us having a chat in the garden, away from the men. Where, in my drunken state, I offered her the services of the Hatlynshire City Bank in exchange for the Bernstein Family becoming our newest clients. However, she rejected me almost instantly, stating that both her and her brother had some ‘personal grievances’ with the state. Something I could understand. Wyla was very friendly, although our conversation never quite recovered after my pathetic attempt at a pitch…”

Olivia’s mentions of Matthew Gaft would continue all throughout her remaining journals. However, none of the entries suggests the existence of any romantic relationship between the two. An entry made during shortly after the aforementioned gala suggests that Gaft discovered Olivia’s true nature not long after the gala had concluded.

“…though today was quite uneventful for the most part in terms of my professional work, ironically, the most noteworthy thing happened directly after I stepped foot outside of the building. It was terribly windy outside to begin with yet the weather was but a minor hindrance when compared to the fact that I had the misfortune of being confronted Matthew Gaft before I had even left bank property. It appeared to me that he had been hiding out in his glided carriage for saint knows how long before finally coming out to confront me, specifically. And to add to my dismay, what he had to say was far from pleasant.

He asked many question and confessed many things. He asked me why I lied about myself during the gala, stating that his father told him about my ‘heritage’. I initially defended myself and told him that I was under no obligation to be truthful towards him with regards to my personal life. He asked me if it was because I feared him and his family, to which I refused to answer. He then confessed to me that my invitation to his family’s gala was only sent because he personally requested it. Now, that caught my curiosity, I asked him why he made such a decision. He stiffly he said he didn’t know and proceeded to call me a dishonest wench and a bastard. I called him a rotten snobbish imbecile. We both then took our swift leaves. Needless to say, we were both came out of that conversation unsatisfied…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 243th Day of the year 107 AF.

This event was shortly followed up by an incident, which involved the Gaft Family pulling whatever resources they had in the H.C.B and engaging in a campaign to undermine it and spoil its reputation. According to the journals, this problem would be solved when Olivia visited the Gaft Family Estate.

“It has been over a month of pain here at the Bernstein branch of the Hatlynshire City Bank. And it appears no one has felt it more than Gotsburg. Unfortunately, ever since he received word of my confrontation with Mr. Gaft a few weeks ago, he has been rather relentless in blaming all the bank’s problems on me. Today he came to me and said that we cannot go on like this forever before accusing me of underestimating the influence of the Gafts. He then pelted me with his uncreative collection of insults. ‘I should’ve never let an idiotic, worthless, two-bit bastard like yourself hold onto this esteemed post for more than a week!’ were his exact words if I remember correctly. He then ordered that I fix this debacle lest I wished to lose my position. He informed me that Gerald Gaft had tragically passed away the week prior and that Matthew would be new head of the House, hence this would be the ample time to make an apology and mend our reputation. However, I informed him that I do not apologize to petulant little children. Unfortunately, he seemed to have run out of tolerance. For he granted me early leave at that very moment and ordered that I visit the Gaft Estate. Stating that my refusal would lead to him ensuring that I never work in state banking again. ‘I do not care if the Steel Queen herself came to my office and demanded that you be reinstated, understood?’

It was under these less than enjoyable circumstances that I had to visit the Gaft Estate. No doubt, Matthew himself wasn’t very happy to see me. Frankly, I’m quite surprised that he didn’t throw me out of the property. Either way, I gave him my condolences in regards to his father’s demise, though it was clear his childish self wouldn’t except them. After some time, I managed to convince him to talk to me. We spoke for what estimate to be at least two hours; in the end, he was even generous enough to offer me some tea. Fortunately for me, Matthew just so happened to be accommodating Wyla Bernstein at around the time I arrived. Wyla was kind enough to speak in my favor, perhaps she pitied me in my time of desperation, or perhaps she pitied Matthew in his time of mourning. Either way, I knew better than to ask.

But even then, it took a fair amount of convincing for both of us to get through Gaft’s thick skull. I would go into detail, but I would rather not have such things recorded in writing. Nevertheless, I emerged triumphant. Gaft assured me that he would stop his families efforts to ruin the bank and I like to think whatever problem we had with each other was very much resolved. Of course, now I must find a way to pay Miss Bernstein some due gratitude…”

The Pultcher Case

In the year 109 AF, Karls Gotsburg would retire as the Divisional Manager and his replacement, a Mr. Horace Pultcher, a Great Borough banker, would last a little more than a year following accusations that stated that he was partaking in embezzlement and fraud in partnership with several local Bernstein banks. Olivia herself would side against Pultcher during what would become the then largest case of financial fraud in Bernstein’s post-war history.

This scandal, known as the Pultcher Case, would result in the Hatlynshire City Bank losing almost thirty five million Sorasy, an astronomical amount for the time. The public outrage would shake the delicate relationship with between the Outer Boroughs and the government, leading to a rise in dissent towards Great Borough. Justin Creed, the Viceroy of Bernstein Borough (Viceroy being a non-elected title established under a Lower Chamber of the CGC in accordance with the Treaty of the Enterprises), commented, “Money be damned, it seems as though the traitors who wish to divide us once more just had their saintly prayers answered,”

Luckily however, most of the outrage would be directed at the bank itself and the issue would eventually culminate in a large mob gathering outside the Bernstein Branch of the H.C.B, demanding to withdraw funds with threats to burn the bank down. Olivia was noted to have been among the staff who would eventually clam down the mob, with assurances that the lost money would be retrieved. Pultcher, who had fled Bernstein in order to hide in the neighboring Angelmore Borough, was arrested, tried and convicted of his crimes before being sentenced to imprisonment. Pultcher would claim that he was but a scapegoat, framed for the crimes of his former colleagues (allegedly including Olivia) who he claimed also profited from the scheme. However, records reveal that further investigation done by the Hatlynshire Government would end up finding no evidence that supported his claim. Pultcher’s life would come to an end in the fall of 111 AF when he would hang himself from the ceiling his own cell.

In the aftermath of the scandal, Olivia would be the one propose a method to recover the lost money. Her strategy involved the bank gaining loans or investment from wealthy Bernstein firms or families using special contracts allowing for various special privileges to their holders. Reportedly, the House of Gaft and their enterprises would be among some of the first to accept the H.C.Bs offer, with some even speculating that the House of Bernstein was also granted these special contracts by Olivia.

For her efforts Olivia would instated as Pultcher’s successor to the office of Divisional Manager in the summer of the year 111 AF. A roll, which she would hold onto for the remainder of her time in Bernstein Borough.

The Final Days in Bernstein Borough

Between the years of 111 AF and 115 AF, the operations of the H.C.B would be relatively stable. Despite the heavy financial burden caused by the Pultcher case and the seceding of special privileges to Bernstein elites through the special contracts, the bank continued to operate without failure. Later historians attribute this stability to the shift in domestic goodwill that occurred after the Pultcher Case, with the H.C.Bs reputation among local Bernstein residents increasing due Olivia’s efforts while, at the same time, the local banks who were discovered to have aided Pultcher in his scheme would end up losing both reputation and customers.

Throughout these times, the HCB would engage in various business dealings with Gaft Mining and Refineries Co. as well other large Bernstein firms. Many would accuse Olivia of engaging in bribery and corruption during this period, accusing her of gathering a vast personal fortune by stealing from the local masses with the aid of the local elites. These claims are thought to date as far back as Olivia’s own lifetime, with the likely originator being Matthew Gaft, who would continue to appear semi-frequently in Olivia’s journals. However, the contents surrounding these appearances would rarely be anything other than a professional matter. Proponents of the theory that Olivia and Gaft had romantic interests in each have long argued that Olivia purposefully omitted such affairs from her journals, often citing how she would often be vague when recording her encounters with Gaft. Other theorists claim Pultcher’s accusations about Olivia were true, and that she was the true mastermind behind the Pultcher Case. Yet even to this day, there exists no outside evidence aside from the journals that could validate these theories. Historians claim that the evidence required to understanding Olivia’s relationship with Gaft and her dealings with the rest of Bernstein populace lie within Gaft Family Records. But at present, the exact location of the records are not known, with many assuming that they have either been destroyed or distributed among the Gaft Family’s branches following the end of the main line.

Additionally, due to the lack of outside records of Olivia’s life, the exact reason of her departure from Bernstein in 115 AF is not known. Many suspect it was due to Victoria, who, fearing the growth and spreading of Liberationist and Industrialist power in the Outer Boroughs, began to impose stricter laws alongside implementing economically suppressive actions such as increasing taxes and trade restrictions mere months prior to Olivia’s departure. Some suspect that Olivia had done something to turn her Bernstein allies against her, thus prompting her to leave. Other theories include one, which states that she was forced to leave due to her father, Bernard, falling ill in the summer of 114 AF, which led to his subsequent retirement during the winter of that same year. Oilvia herself would record her departure from Bernstein Borough in her journals as follows:

“…though my departure from Bernstein was a quite unexpected, strangely, I have yet to feel any great sense of sadness over it. Perhaps it is because, for the longest time now, I’ve been longing to see Great Borough again. It has been more than four years since I last saw father, and even longer since, I’ve seen everyone else. Father’s last letter informed me that he was feeling quite sick, and the local newspaper have been screaming about his retirement for days. I find such timing oddly convenient.

I found myself strolling through the halls of the Bank today; despite all the trouble I had to endure here I found it rather fun to reminisce about the happier times. However, sadly, not a lot of patrons came in today. I take it as a sign that the winds here have shifted. Although, I do hope I will get the chance to visit some choice associates before I leave. I’ve learned that Bernstein folk do not take kindly to a quiet exit…”

- Olivia’s Journals, entry dated on the 53rd Day of the year 115 AF.

It was thought that Olivia had visited the estates of several of her close acquaintances on her last day in Bernstein Borough. She was confirmed to have visited the Gaft Estate, where Matthew Gaft had gifted her a portrait of himself. The evidence for this gift was found within Olivia’s Will, where it listed a painting of Matthew Gaft among Olivia’s possessions. The Will also instructed that the portrait be handed over to Maxwell O. Gaft, Matthew’s son, upon her death. It was due to this wish that the location of the portrait now unknown. Yet, it remains as another point of debate among historians, for many hypothesize that this portrait was merely one out of a set of two, with the other painting being one of Olivia that was kept in Gaft’s possession.

Carter slowly put his feet on the ground and stood up from his bed and stretched his arms, which made a wave of relief run down his spine. In front of him, he could see the face of the wooden wall clock that hung above the dormitory entrance, its hour hand pointing at the number six and its minute hand, the number twelve. His drowsiness slowly faded away as he then straightened his light blue and white stripped nightgown. His mornings were always started slow, no matter how much energy he tried to muster upon waking up, he was never the type to jump out of bed.

Once he had fully regained some of his mental clarity, he looked at the bed directly next to his one, only to find it empty with its sheets neatly folded and placed next to a thoroughly fluffed pillow. The sight of such a perfectly tidy bed made Carter roll his eyes as he turned around and began folding his own sheets, for in his opinions after a certain point tidiness became less about etiquette and more about frivolous vanity. He had expressed this viewpoint to his neighbor many times, and many times he had been completely ignored.

Just as he was about to finish his folding, the door at the front of the room burst open, and in walked his overly tidy neighbor, a thin freckle-ridden boy with curly ginger hair. A cloud of steam trailed behind him has he walked towards the center of the room, for in his hands was a tray of eight cups, each filled with a scalding hot tea.

The other boys in the room all gathered around the tray, each one taking a cup whilst the ginger haired boy tried his best to hold the tray firmly without letting it fall. Soon only three cups remained on the tray, the boy then turned and walked towards Carter before placing the tray on top of a small wooden drawer next to the perfectly organized bed. He then turned to Carter before taking one of the remaining teacups for himself, however Carter didn’t turn around to face him and continued to fold his sheets.

“Good morning, Carter” He greeted; however his face had a frown, and his voice was blunt and cold, which made Carter feel nervous.

“Good morning, Percy” he replied cheerfully as he grabbed his pillow and began to fluff it. “On the morning shift I see.”

“Yes, it’s odd, given that it wasn’t my turn.” He said snidely before sipping his tea. Carter paused, realizing the reason behind Percy’s unusually hostile attitude. Feelings of shame and embarrassment ran down his body as he awkwardly placed his pillow on his bed and slowly turned around to face his friend.

“Sleep well, Shift-Skipper?” Percy asked rhetorically with a malicious grin.

“I am so sorry,” Carter replied with utmost sincerity. Percy replied with a dissatisfied huff whilst looking down at his cup. His disappointed expression only made Carter feel worse.

“It’s easy to apologize when people have already done your work for you, isn’t it?”

Carter sighed, he didn’t want to go about his day thinking he had upset his friend, he simply couldn’t bear the thought. Thus, he was willing to do anything to make it right in his mind. “Fine then, I’ll take your next shift! That ought to even us out, right?”

Percy placed his fist on his chin and did a dramatic pondering pose, only to stop within a few seconds and shake his head in disagreement. “If I recall correctly, I had to do one of your shifts two days, and another one four days before that! You have yet to repay me for those as well!”

“O Saints forgive me for expecting a little altruism from my friends!” he exclaimed.

“May the saints forgive you indeed,” Percy taunted before taking another sip of his tea. “Though even if they did, you’d still owe me.”

Carter frowned, for now even he was starting to get frustrated. Percy gave him a dull stare, clearly unwilling to let of the past. Carter knew that the longer they argued, the more likely it was that their argument would devolve into a long and childish game, one which he was unwilling to play. And despite his desire to retain what little companionship he had; his pride wouldn’t let him sink so low as to grovel at Percy’s feet.

“What then? Two shifts? Three? What about my afternoon dessert? Would all that settle it?” he asked with both anger and sarcasm.

“Nope.” Percy replied swiftly. However, the sound of Carter’s annoyed groaning finally seemed to make him snap. For his sour frown slowly began to fracture and turn into amused grin as he began sniggering uncontrollably. It was then that Carter began to realize that he had just fallen for a rouse, and just as his face began to display his rightfully annoyed reaction, Percy began to chuckle.

“Are you kidding me?” Carter asked, his eye twitching in frustration. To which Percy nodded cheerfully whilst holding back his laughter. Carter rolled his eyes as he sat down on his bed. “We should make a rule not to play tricks on each other before breakfast.”

“Like that would last a more than a week!” Percy mocked. Carter let out a deep breath as he grabbed his teacup and held it up to his lips. “Was it even my shift?” he asked before taking a large sip. He then leaned back and let out a relieved sigh as the hot tea warmed his insides and quashed the last remnants of his early morning haze.

“Oh, it was.” Percy replied in a dead serious tone, which made Carter look at him with his eyebrow raised. Percy gave him a side-eyed glance and grinned. “But don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. I know you like your beauty sleep, and I managed to reap some sweet benefits.”

He then rummaged through one of the pockets of his nightgown and took out a brown biscuit as large as his palm, it’s top stamped with an ornate flower. Carter, ignoring the comment about beauty sleep, felt his heart burn with desire, for he knew only the staff were allowed to have such treats.

“The cooks were none the wiser.” He boasted whilst holding the treat between two of his fingers. Carter chuckled as his mind made up an image of Percy’s daring exploit. However, whilst they were laughing together, a hand appeared from behind Percy and snatched the biscuit off his hand. Percy was so startled that he nearly fell off his bed as he turned his head to the side angrily to face the thief bold enough to steal from him. What he found was a dark blonde-haired boy in a stripped nightgown gleefully holding the stolen biscuit with a look a victory on his face.

“HEY!” he shouted as he lunged towards the boy and frantically reached is arms out in order to retrieve his hard-won prize. However, the other boy was taller than him, so he simply walked backwards and held his hand above his hand, keeping the biscuit out of reach whilst grinning maniacally.

“Give it back, you prick! You cannot fathom how difficult it was to steal that!” Percy demanded, his swift and chaotic movements making his old bedframe creak. Meanwhile, Carter simply watched, tittering in amused at the scene unfolding in front of him, for part of him felt that Percy’s misfortune was well deserved.

“Good morning to you too!” The other boy exclaimed, smiling confidently. “And there’s no need to shout like a preacher, seeing as claiming ownership of a stolen biscuit is not exactly a righteous cause.”

Percy grunted angrily as he got up on his feet. “Don’t you start your sly-talk with me, Fin! This isn’t up for debate!”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” Fin retorted whilst holding back Percy’s head with his other hand as Percy kept pushing against him with both his arms outstretched. “All is fair in love and snatching stolen food from the hands of unsuspecting orphans!”

Fin then swiftly took his hand off his victim’s face and, using his shoulder, pushed Percy back onto his bed before taking large bite out of the biscuit whilst Percy watched, seething with rage. Fin then sat next to Percy and wrapped his arm around his shoulders cheerfully. “Oh, cheer up, Pers! You still get credit for gulling those ladle-lickers! Besides, think of this as a thank you gift in advance for yours truly!”

Percy slowly turned to Fin with a look of outrage and disbelief as he shoved the last remnants of the biscuit into his mouth. “Thank you? For what?”

“For what I’m going to do next week!” Fin exclaimed with great enthusiasm. “It’s not every day that one of your closest friends and confidants turns seventeen!”

Those words made Percy’s anger disappear almost immediately, but instead of being replaced by curiosity or happiness, it was a replaced by a look of repressed yet deep sadness. He then took Fin’s arm off his shoulder and rolled his eyes before looking down at the ground with a tight-lipped frown.

“Thank you for reminding me.” He said in a cold and sarcastic voice. Fin’s expression then changed from one of overexaggerated arrogance to one of sympathy. Carter then walked to the edge of the bed and sat down next to Percy. He had seen this reaction many times, for years he, Percy and Fin had watched as the older children of Dormitory Fourteen all faced the same fate, one by one they had all succumbed to the mysterious workings of the system they all live under, and now it had come for Percy.

“Don’t worry, Pers!” Fin said upliftingly. “Think of the great big world you’ll get to see! It’s got be better than this leaky old shack!” To which Percy replied with a grumble.

“What was that about next week?” asked Carter, swiftly changing the topic of the conversation whist gesturing towards Fin with his eyebrow, to which Fin immediately took the hint. He the hastily stood up from the bed and spread his arms as though he were praising the heavens.

“It’s good that you asked, my friend!” he announced boldly. “For you see, I have been secretly preparing what will be perhaps the greatest celebration this House shall ever bear witness to!”

His enthusiasm was met by a rather anticlimactic response, Carter tried to smile with excitement though it was undermined by his nervous eyes as he failed to hide his well-founded wariness. Meanwhile Percy raised his eyebrow, his mood unimproved and his expression riddled with skepticism.

“You’ve been planning this in secret, you say?” he asked, looking up at Fin blankly.

“Indeed, I have.” Fin replied though with less enthusiasm and with his arms crossed. Percy then stood up and began to slowly circle Fin like a vulture with his arms behind his back.

“That implies that you wanted to surprise me, so why are you revealing it to me now? You already know my birthday isn’t for another week.” Percy inquired, seemingly taking amusement in prying open what he saw as a contradiction in Fin’s otherwise indestructible story. Fin rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated expression, playing along and feigning defeat.

“You’re right! It’s because I need you to do me a favor.” He admitted humbly.

Percy paused, slightly taken aback by his answer, for it was seemingly not the one he was expecting. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

“My evening shift…next week.” He answered with a bit of hesitation, knowing that Percy would immediately realize the true implications of his request, and he was right. For Percy’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly out of disbelief.

“You want me to work your shift, on my birthday?”

“I would ask Cart over there but, judging from your previous bout, he has some dues to pay.” He said, gesturing towards Carter, who looked down at the ground with a grimace, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“And is there no one else in this dorm?” Asked Percy pointing towards all the younger children who were all running about, frolicking and sipping tea, oblivious to their conversation.

Fin shook his head. “Impossible, the Minders will have my head on a spike if they catch me pawning off work to the juniors again.” He explained with a side eyed glance. Carter had the unfortunate knowledge of knowing what Fin was referring to, for it involved three younger children, a row of dusty bookcases and a small brass chandelier. He also remembered everyone in the Boys Wing laughing for several days after it happened.

Percy huffed, seemingly seeing no viable excuse he could use to refuse Fin’s request. He then sighed in acceptance, smiled and held his hand out to Fin. “Alright, I’ll do it. Though this party better be as good as your making it out to be!”

“Oh, mark my words, it’ll be like no other!” Fin boasted confidently as he shook Percy’s hand. “First, we’ll gather the Digger’s Club and where you’ll relinquish your title as Lord of the Tunnel, then we’ll come back here and celebrate like princes! And don’t worry, it’ll still be a surprise! Cause what I just told you is all you will ever know until then!” He said giddily as he reached out to the drawer next to his own bed, grabbed his empty teacup and placed it on the tray.

He then patted his nightgown and hastily turned back to his bed. “Now then, I best be going before the lavatory lines become too long, and you best be getting these back to the kitchen.”

He then knelt next to his bed before reaching under it and pulling out a large brown suitcase bound by leather straps and a brass buckle, its lid stamped with the symbol of St Annalise House. He then reached out and opened one of his drawers, and from inside the drawer he took a key, which he then used to open the suitcase, revealing it to be full clothes and all his other personal possessions. He then took out a pair of clothes and slight worn towel, which he then rolled up under his arm before he closed the suitcase and shoved it back under his bed.

He then stood up and smiled at Percy and Carter. “Good day to you both!” he exclaimed before marching away towards the dormitory exit.

Percy then took the partially filled tray into his hands. “Well at least I have something to look forward to now.” He sighed dully. “One last revel before I go away forever.”

“Oh, you’re being dramatic!” Carter said optimistically. “The outside can’t be that bad. Besides, you’ll only have to be alone for a few months, then you’ll have Fin and I to keep you company!”

“Hopefully.” Percy replied with a little more enthusiasm. “If I don’t get carted off to the Big Boiler or the Bird House before that.”

Carter chuckled, for years the children had theorized about where they would end up once they left St Annalise House. They had conjured stories about the Big Boiler, a massive furnace, similar to ones in the House itself, hidden somewhere beneath the city whose fires kept the city warm. The older children would always scare the younger children by uttering warnings about how they’d were destined to spend their lives feeding the enormous furnaces. The Minders eventually took notice of this and, sensing opportunity, began weaving their own tales. But, instead of the Big Boiler, they made up the Bird House, an old and rickety tower where all the messenger birds of the city nested. They would warn all the boys that if the contents if their folders reflected poorly on them, they would be sentenced to sweep the tower’s filth for the rest of their days. Unfortunately for the Minders, many of the older children were quick to see through their lies, and their story failed to improve them in any meaningful way.

Carter then patted Percy’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Pers! Once we’re all out we’ll finally get to live our however we want! We’ll go that drinking place on the corner, the one everyone in the Minders go to!”

“The Drinker’s Port?”

“Yes, that one! We’ll go there like we always said we would, you, Fin and I, and we’ll drink all the wine and whiskey in the world!”

Percy smiled and rolled his eyes, for he was now thoroughly cheered up. He then balanced the tea tray on one hand and used his other hand to reach down inside his nightgown, where he had sown a secret pocket out of some spare yarn and patch of cloth. From within his attire, he took out another brown biscuit.

“But until then these will have to do.” he sighed before pressing his thumb against the cold confectionary, breaking it into two and handing one half to Carter. Percy then put his half inside his mouth, gave Carter a polite head bow and walked away, leaving Carter to watch as the other children all ran up to him and gave him their empty cups.

Carter took a bite of his biscuit, wondering whether Percy would’ve shared it to him had he not cheered him up. As he sat peacefully on Percy’s bed, he could see some of the other children grabbing their clothes and running out into the corridor, where even more children in nightgowns from all the other dormitories in the Boys Wing were slowly accumulating. Through experience he knew that he had about five minutes before every lavatory line in the Wing became indescribably unbearable to wait in. However, he did not panic or rush, instead he swallowed the rest of his treat before slowly opening Percy’s top drawer and taking out a book he had borrowed from the library, a book titled The Canterberg Tales by a man named Jeffrey Chance. He then laid on friend’s stiff yet tidy mattress and began reading, for he also knew that in about an hour’s time the lines would diminish, and then he could have all the time and privacy he wanted at the cost of somewhat battered facilities. Yet, contrary to Fin’s very vocal opinions, it was a trade he was willing to make.

Once all the children were out of their nightgowns and dressed in their house mandated uniform, which for Carter usually consisted of an old lightly tattered navy-blue waistcoat and coat alongside an equally weathered white shirt and flat cap, they were given a small yet cherished leisure time. Time that Carter spent helping the small children with little things like tying shoes laces and listening to Fin concoct a brilliant plan to vandalize the door of the neighboring dorm with stolen paint from the painting room whilst Percy sat next to him, scolding him and critiquing his plan’s every flaw.

Then, once the dorm clock struck eight, the Wing Bell rang once again, signaling the call to Morning Assembly. Soon Minders dressed in dark blue uniforms arrived at the door of every dormitory in the House. Carter couldn’t help but glance nervously at the polished wooden rods hanging from their brown belts as they instructed the children to form orderly lines and led them outside the House to the Warden’s Yard, a courtyard that laid directly beyond the House’s front gate.

“Gosh I wonder what Mr. Wardy will complain about today!” Fin whispered sarcastically into Carter’s ear as he walked behind him, his disdain towards the idea of standing out in cold winter weather being apparent in his tone. “My guess is that it’ll be like yesterday, or the day before! He’ll go on and on again about how half the staff went home for the winter and how we aren’t helping enough around here, all while we stand there freezing to death!”

“Well, hopefully he won’t keep us outside for too long.” Carter replied optimistically, for he too shared in Fin’s contempt, especially knowing that their winter coats were far from the best quality.

As they stepped out of their dorm buildings and into the cold and barren stone of the Warden’s Yard, a flat plain made entirely of stone with a mosaic of the sun in the center, surrounded on three sides by the towering three story building that made up the majority of St Annalise House. Carter felt the icy chill of the ground pierce through his shoes and relentlessly assault his feet. Such a feeling always reminded him to spare a moment of thought for the unfortunate young souls who had been tasked with clearing the courtyard. Given the sheer volume of snow that always accumulated in the yard every winter night, the job of shoveling it all was considered so arduous that it became a sentence the Minders only gave to the most mischievous offenders. It was truly the harshest atonement for one’s sins that they could suffer,

Once all the children had gathered in the yard in the form of one chaotic and disorderly crowd, the Minders proceeded to organize them into neat rows of fifteen whilst strongly urging all of them to stand as still as possible and not make a single sound. Then, once that was done and the courtyard was dead silent, the rest of the house staff entered the yard. This included the Warden of the House, a man who was rarely seen by the children, one whose real name no one seemed to remember or cared to utter, instead opting to call him Mr. Wardy. He was then followed shortly by the Head Minder, the Teachers of the School Wing, the Nurses of the Infirmary and all the other staff. Together they all sat in a row of chairs placed in front of the children, except for Mr. Wardy, who took a podium which had been placed in front of the chairs, and the Head Minder, who stood behind him, his hands carrying a long pole tied to the flag of Hatlynshire.

“Salute for the sacred vow!” he announced before stepping aside and letting the Head Minder walk in front of him. He then balled his left fist and placed it on his side before moving his right hand next to his head in a salute. As he did so, the rest of the staff all stood up from their seats and did the same. Then complete and utter silence followed as Mr. Wardy took a deep breath before bellowing as loudly as he could.

“Begin!”

Suddenly, within seconds, the Warden’s Yard erupted into a hypnotizing, synchronized chant as the hundreds of children gathered in the courtyard all began shouting at the top of their lungs.

“With saints as my witness, I vow to serve the Great City of Hatlynshire with my utmost loyalty! I vow to preserve the unity of the people, the might of industry and the integrity of state and crown! O long may the Grand-Prince reign, O long may the institutions stand and forever may the people prosper!”

Once that was over, the yard once again fell silent. Mr. Wardy moved back towards and the podium as the Head Minder stepped back and the rest of the staff all took their seats. He then cleared his throat and stared directly at his young audience.

“Good morning, my dear children!” he greeted with as much enthusiasm as a strict old man with a slow and raspy voice could muster.

“Good morning, sir!” the children all answered in unison.

And so, he began his speech, his voice sounding akin to an authoritarian, one who had an iron grip on his people. As to be expected, he complained about everything Fin said he would, mainly about the lack of funding. He thanked the state and their generous donors, whose names meant so little to Carter that he forgot them almost immediately after Mr. Wardy said them.

“It is of the utmost importance that we save every penny! That may like an impossible feat, given how much we have already sacrificed. But I know you all will do what is necessary in order to help us get through what remains of this hard winter.”

He then began lecturing the children about duty, discipline and what was expected of them. Yet, his words were so boring and repetitive that listening to them whilst standing in the cold felt like torture. However, Carter did find some entertainment in listening to discreet chattering of the children as they leaned over and whispered at each other’s ears in order to pass the time.

“I hear the boys in Dorm Seven are throwing a pillow brawl at midnight!” he heard one boy whisper to Fin.

“I heard Rupert Abby stole Humphrey Clipton’s looking glass!” whispered another.

“Did you know they had to take Rodney Jonson to the infirmary? I hear he got knocked out in a brawl with the Dorm Four boys!”

However, as Mr. Wardy dragged on with his words, Carter’s feet began to ache, and he clenched his fists tighter and tighter as he felt more and more impatient.

“I shall reiterate this one last time for anyone who finds it difficult to grasp. We expect that you all maintain good conduct and proper decency. Any acts of waste or miscreance shall be dealt with severely, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” they all shouted at once.

 Mr. Wardy then nodded, seemingly satisfied by his message. “Right then, I think the time to conclude this assembly is at hand. I thank you for your presence this morning, and I hereby dismiss you all! Good day!”

Carter breathed a sigh of relief as he and the rest of the children all saluted and bowed their heads respectfully as Mr. Wardy walked down from the podium. Almost immediately after that the neat rows they stood in began to crumble as the children descended back into a disorganized mass before they all rushed into the warm interior of the house.

However, escaping the cold did not make Carter feel completely relieved, for what came after Morning Assembly was perhaps the only time of the day, he considered more torturous than Morning Assembly, for as soon the children of both wings got back to their dorms, they had to rummage through their drawers for their quills, slates and slate pencils before running off to the study halls of the School Wing. The House demanded that all children know how to read and write and do basic arithmetic, though at the same time, they did very little to make the children want to learn.

With his slate in hand, Carter approached the entrance of the School Wing, one which consisted of two large arched doors that led into a maze-like complex of corridors. However, instead of going straight in, the children first went to a large blackboard that hung next to the doors, for written on it in clear white chalk was both a directory for which students needed to be in which class during which time, with groups separated based on age. Carter glanced at the board just long enough to see where he had been summoned before running through the entrance and into a wide corridor with doors on either side. He reached a door bearing a plaque titled Writing Room B. And the moment he entered he was greeted by a bearded old man in a black waistcoat, who sat behind a desk full of books, blank paper, inkbottles and a wooden plaque with the word ‘Mr. Urstwell Hartfort’ etched on it, his face covered by a thin smoke cloud as his smoked a wooden pipe.

“Good morning, Mr. Carrington.” He said with a cough as he waved the smoke away from his face.

“Morning, sir.” Carter replied politely. To him, Mr. Hartfort was one of the nicer teachers, mainly due to the sheer simplicity of his subject.

“Copy work today, Mr. Carrington, forty fifth page.” He uttered plainly as he pointed to the books, papers and ink. “And be sure to use your best hand, this one will be going in your file.”

Carter replied with a nod before walking over to the table and taking one of each of the three items. He then sat down on a rickety bench behind a dark brown table long enough to seat seven children, covered in dents, scribbles and markings.

He then reached into one of his waistcoat pockets and took out his quill, a quill that was a third of his age with a feather that was nearly bent. The House could only afford to provide new quills every few years and so they were made to make do with whatever they had. This led to several children naming their quills, with Carter having named this particular one Quillbert.

In the succeeding few minutes, several of his peers trickled into the room, though their numbers weren’t nearly enough to fill every chair, and Mr. Hartfort greeted them the same way he greeted Carter. Meanwhile, Carter kept his head down as he opened the inkbottle, set it down beside him, opened the book, titled ‘The Chronicles of a Soldier’, and turned to the forty fifth page, dipped the tip of his quill in ink and carefully began writing down the text.

…And thus, I accompanied Saint George the Magnificent and his daughter, the Saint Annalise, as they marched from one end of what was then Bracksburg to the other and then back again, proclaiming to them that they had vanquished the wretched Peoples of the Arylmoor…

He could barely make it past the second sentence before he stopped paying attention to what the words said and instead tried his best to write down the letters as perfectly as he could, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be afforded another sheet of supposedly expensive paper if he made a mistake. He kept an even pace as he tried to fit as many words into the page as he could, only stopping to dip Quillbert in ink every few words.

The schoolroom fell into a deep silence once all of Carter’s peers were seated and occupied with their own assignments, and not long after that Mr. Hartfort began to drift into a delicate slumber. Once he was fully asleep, the room became noticeably less civil as the children became chattering and whispering amongst each other, the volumes of their voices fine-tuned as to not wake up their old educator.

“The air in this room is unbearable!” Fin murmured from beside Carter as he switched been scribbling down the words of the book and glaring their slumbering tutor. “I swear to the saints, old Heart-Wart’s going to smoke himself to the grave by dusk!”

“It’s not that bad.” Carter responded, making excuses for Mr. Hartfort for seemingly no reason, even though he too had noticed that the smell of pipe tobacco in the air was stronger than usual, causing the class to smell absolutely horrid. “And don’t call him that while he’s in the room, he might hear you.”

“I mean, I imagine the name isn’t too inaccurate.” Fin retorted in his defense. “And what do you mean not that bad?” he asked rhetorically before derailing himself immediately afterwards. “What are you? Some kind of…uh…what do you call them, the ones who can’t smell…umm.”

“Anosmic?” suggested Percy, who sat next to Fin with his eyes pointed firmly on his paper. Carter couldn’t help but smile and be amused by Fin’s intentionally ineffective insult.

“Yes, that!” Fin exclaimed with a grin before nudging Percy’s shoulder with his own. “Gosh where would I be without you!”

“Huffing dust I imagine, in a closet you locked yourself in.” Percy replied swiftly and mercilessly. “Now I’d appreciate it if you both stopped arguing. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we get to leave this smoke house.”

“I agree, but how can Heart-Wart expect us to work like this? Drowning in all this putrid smog!” he protested angrily, though Carter could tell that his fuss was partially exaggerated just for the sake of it.

“If you feel so strongly about it, you should make a formal complaint to Mr. Wardy” Carter joked as he wrote down the last few sentences of the forty fifth page. The mere suggestion of something so ludicrous almost made Percy laugh out loud whilst Fin shook his head in refusal.

“Upon further deliberation, perhaps the smoke isn’t that bad after all.”

They all chuckled amongst themselves whilst keeping their voices low. However, their fun was cut short by the sound of the Hall Bell ringing from the corridor, marking the end of the class. Mr. Hartfort startled awake just as the boys all got up from their seats and lined up to hand in their papers and other items. Mr. Hartfort glanced at each paper before placing them in a neat pile, only commenting on the few he thought were worth commenting on.

“Elegant as always, I see, Mr. Bodrick, very impressive indeed. Keep this up and I’d wager you’d be as proficient as a scribe.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hartfort.” Bodrick expressed graciously whilst bowing his head. After him came Fin, whose paper made Mr. Hartfort’s expression become noticeably less enthusiastic the moment he handed it over.

“Mr. Finnegan…” he began as he took a closer look at the words. Fin looked down at him with a polite smile on his face, Carter had glimpsed the handwriting on his friend’s paper, and even by his low standards it wasn’t the best. However, part of him couldn’t help but assume that he had intentionally made his handwriting appear worse as a way of protesting against Mr. Hartfort’s excessive pipe use, files be damned, knowing that relative to much of the other staff, Mr. Hartfort was soft and lenient with his criticism.

“I see your penmanship lies at the border between satisfactory and irredeemable, do try and better yourself.” He judged with a disappointed frown, which was about as much scrutiny as he could’ve given.

“Thank you, Mr. Heart-Wart.” said Fin, feigning gratefulness. Mr. Hartfort’s eyebrow immediately rose up and his expression darkened.

“What did you call me?” he asked, his voice sounding leagues more serious and intimidating. Fin’s eyes widened and his smile turned to a frightened frown as he straightened himself. The words had seemingly flowed out of his mouth with such ease that he had barely noticed them. Several children on either side of him then began making exaggerated expressions of curiosity as they waited for his response.

“Umm…nothing, sir! I just misspoke, that’s all!” he explained frantically whilst trying his best to look as though he was perfectly calm.

“Misspoke, did you?” Mr. Hartfort huffed. “That is excusable, yes. Tell me, how often do you misspeak, Mr. Finnegan?”

Fin flinched, taken off guard by the question and seemingly unable to come up with a good answer. “Sir?” he stuttered weakly.

“My ears are not to be underestimated, boy, and they tell me you misspeak quite often with your fellow peers.” He explained as he gestured towards Carter and Percy with his lightly wrinkled hand. “Especially when you think I’m asleep.”

Fin’s face went red, and Carter saw Percy place his palm on his face, and he too felt like doing the same. Mr. Hartfort then grinned whilst the rest of the boys started giggling, all the while Fin stayed quiet, unable to find a way to escape his predicament.

“I apologize, sir.” He muttered timidly.

Mr. Hartfort huffed. “Your words impress me not, Mr. Finnegan. Perhaps you can express your regrets next class, with your quill.”

Fin agreed and nodded to every word the old man said, desperate to finish the lecture and leave the room. Carter found the scene increasingly painful to watch the longer it lasted. Finally, Mr. Hartfort glanced at the other boys before turning to Fin and giving him a nod of satisfaction.

“You may go now, Mr. Finnegan. Young ones like you may have a right to your quips and your japes, but I advise that you refrain from saying them in front of those you offend. Next time I shall bring my grievances straight to the Minders.”

Fin nodded and bowed his head once again just to make sure that Mr. Hartfort didn’t question his sincerity. Mr. Hartfort then puffed his pipe and waved him away before gesturing the next boy to hand over his paper. Fin then kept his head down and obscured as he walked past the out of the classroom through the thoroughly amused crowd and into the corridor. Once they were out of Mr. Hartfort’s sight, Carter slowly made his way towards Fin and patted him on the shoulder.

“Well, I feel as though that could’ve gone worse.” He said, assuming Fin was feeling upset and embarrassed and wanting to cheer him up. “At least you don’t have lose your toes shoveling snow tomorrow.”

However, he soon realized that his assumptions were wrong, for Fin then turned towards him with a smirk on his face. “I know, I know. Bless the merciful heart of that old toad!” he exclaimed sarcastically. To which Carter chuckled and shrugged.

“In all fairness, I did warn you! Now you’re going to have to be extra careful around old Hartfort.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him.” Fin then argued. “You heard what he said, we young people have a right to our quips. I just need to be quieter next time.”

Carter sighed and shook his head, utterly impressed by Fin’s refusal to learn a lesson. Fin then glanced back at the crowd behind them before swiftly turning back with a look of deep fear.

“I don’t like the way Pers is looking at me, I might have to find some dark secluded corner to sit in next class.”

The lessons went on for several more hours until the final Hall Bell rung at midday, and as soon as it did all order within the School Wing broke down as the boys all rushed into the corridors at once and hurriedly made their way back to their dormitories so they could put away their slates and quills. The halls filled chaotic noise of footsteps and gibberish as the Minders tried their best to control the hungry juvenile horde as they all ran to the Mess Hall, a large white room with an arched ceiling and towering windows that protruded outwards from the eastward wall of the building that separated the dormitories from the School Wing. Inside the hall were ten rows of long tables arranged into two columns with a narrow aisle in between, and the boys pushed, pulled and trampled over each other as they fiercely competed for the best seats.

Once the dust had settled, Carter found himself sitting in the middle of the sixth row, with Percy beside him and Fin across from him. The sound of chatter filled the room as the hundreds of boys engaged in hundreds of small conversations, some fiddled with the plates and bowls they each were given whilst others etched various words and symbols onto the desks with their pewter cutlery. Sometime later, a procession of Minders appeared from a side door carrying a few trays of bread and a pot of porridge, which they would then distribute among the vast crowd whilst making sure that no boy dare tries and steal from them.

“I see I got the Bookkeeping Office today...how boring.” Fin huffed angrily, ripping piece of his bread and stuffing it his mouth whilst his eyes remained fixed towards something at the back of the room. “All they do is make you move around their stupid ledgers from one creaky desk to another! Why do they even need us for that?”

“Maybe it’s because we can’t decline. I hear Mr. Murton and his lot are all penny pinchers, so why would they say no to free work?” Carter suggested, eating his porridge with a spoon. Fin nodded in agreement before turning to Percy.

“So Pers what did you get?”

Percy responded with a frown as he took a bite out of his bread, for he had clearly not forgiven his friend for spoiling his name in front of Mr. Hartfort. Fin frowned back before looking over Carter’s shoulder towards the back of the room with narrow eyes.

“The Painting Room with Bods, huh? Well, that’s fortunate!” he exclaimed with a menacing smile. He then leaned over towards Percy. “I don’t suppose you both would mind doing me a favor while you’re there, would you?”

“I’m not stealing anything for you, and neither will Bods.” Percy replied bluntly, remembering Fin’s plot to vandalize their neighboring dorm. “I already told you that was an idiotic idea.”

“Oh, for Saint’s sake, don’t be like that!” Fin attempted to persuade. “If you’re too much of a coward to do it at least trade shifts with me! The bookkeepers, they’re number people, right? And so are you! You were both made for each other!”

“What? And risk getting a stain on my file?” Percy fired back loudly. “I’m afraid I must politely decline such an imbecilic offer!”

“Keep your voices down!” Carter warned, looking at the Minders who were seated in a small table in the corner of room, worried that they might attract their hawk-like gaze. Both Fin and Percy paused and stared at each other for a moment before returning to their meals.

“I just thought you’d want to have fun while you’re still here, for all we know those damned files aren’t even real.” Fin grumbled, to which Percy did not respond. Realizing that this conversation was going nowhere, Fin then turned to Carter.

“So, Cart, what did you get?” he asked with diminished enthusiasm.

Carter put down his spoon and looked over his shoulder towards the back of the room, for there, covering most of the back wall, hung a large blackboard with the names of every child over the age of eight, for whilst the morning shifts were often assigned via lists in the Dormitories, the evening shifts were assigned via the great blackboard in the Mess Hall. Carter read through the board until he found his name, for next to it was his assigned shift.

“The Music Hall with Nettles.” He answered as he turned back to the table.

“Oh, interesting!” Fin then exclaimed. “You might get to hear to the song choir! Nettles told me they have practice today!”

“Maybe, if they don’t shove me out the door once work time is over.” Carter pointed out. To which Fin shrugged confidently.

“True, but you can always sneak back in when no one’s looking! Who knows, maybe Pers and I will join you once our shifts are over!”

He and Carter then once again looked at Percy, to which he initially responded with a frown, however their hopeful stares persisted until he finally rolled his eyes and sighed.

“So be it.” He uttered in defeat as his angry mood fell apart under the amusement caused by the sheer might of their persistence. Fin and Carter both smiled victoriously.

After some time, the Hall Bell rung once more, marking the end of their lunch. All the boys, except those whose shift was to clean the Mess Hall, then made their way out of the Mess Hall in an orderly fashion whilst the Minder watched them, determined to catch anyone trying to sneak food outside the hall. Those who were old enough to work made their way to their shifts whilst the younger boys pursued whatever leisure activity suited them. Carter had always felt like he had wasted his younger years, and now that he was forced work the shifts, he felt quite a bit of jealousy towards his carefree juniors.

Fortunately for him, the Music Hall was only two hallways and a handful of doors away from the Mess Hall. Once Carter found the door and pushed it open, he was met with a large rectangular room with three walls lined with a balcony, filled with enough chairs to seat the entirety of St Annalise House, arranged in rows and covered in cloth, all while the back of the room was occupied by a red curtain and a stage full of instruments and music stands. Carter’s eyes searched the room, looking for convenient hiding places, for he knew the music teacher well enough to know that he was a man who hate distractions and adored silent privacy, so if he and friends were to listen their music, they had to be sneaky about it.

A slow yet pleasant melody entered his ears as he stepped inside the room, he looked for the source of the rhythm as he walked down the center aisle between the rows until his eyes fell upon a man sitting near the middle of the stage with his hands gliding over the keys of a very old and worn piano. However, the moment Carter closed the door behind him, the music stopped, and the man got up from his seat and began straightening his attire.

“Mr. Carrington.” He greeted from atop the stage. “Don’t tell me you were the only one they could afford to send?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Welf.” Carter replied polite. “And no, sir, they assigned two of us to the Music Hall.”

Similar to Mr. Hartfort, Mr. Welf was an old man, yet he still had some blackness in his well-kept hair. He wore a deep purple waistcoat, a set of pince-nez glasses and always kept had his hands covered by silk gloves.

“Only two, eh?” he sighed with a frustrated frown as he looked around the room. “Hmm, that won’t do! It simply won’t.”

He then turned to Carrington. “Who’s the other boy who’s supposed to be here?” he then pressed further.

“Frank Nettles, sir.”  Carter replied. Mr. Welf then placed his arm below his chin and pondered for a few seconds, he then reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out a pocket watched and glanced down at it.

“Well hopefully Mr. Nettles gets here soon, because at this rate you both will have to work without respite in order to get this place in order before my students get here.”

Just then, Carter heard the door to the Music Hall open behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a short, thin boy with messy black hair come running down the center aisle towards them before halting next to him. He then gave a Mr. Welf a swift head bow. “Apologies for my lateness, sir.”

“Apologies can wait, Mr. Nettles, for you both have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it.” Mr. Welf replied before turning around walking to the back of the stage.

Carter and Nettles nodded obediently as they followed Mr. Welf onto the stage. He then guided them behind the curtains into a small hidden space filled with a treasure trove of props and decorations both new and ancient. There, tucked away in cramped corner was a pile of rags, brooms and buckets. Mr. Welf then grabbed a couple of rags and brooms and handed them to the boys.

“I need this hall free of dust and cobwebs before the end of the next hour!” he commanded before reaching into a nearby shelf and taking out a sandglass with the number one hundred and twenty written on it before walking back onto the stage.

“I have an important meeting with the rest of the staff.” He explained as he flipped the sandglass and placed it on his piano. “You may leave once this runs out. But if you fail to finish before then, I shall have you brought back here tomorrow.”

Mr. Welf climbed down from the stage and went through a door near one of the corners of the room, a door that led into his office, only to come back out a few moments later wearing a coat and cap whilst holding a deep green file in his hand. He then marched out of the hall without even giving the boys a glance.

“I say we do the balcony first; it’s bound to be the messiest.” Carter suggested, to which Nettles, who nodded in agreement. He then took one more look at the sandglass before he and Nettles got to work.

“Who would want to come here at this time of year?” Nettles then pondered as he and Carter made their way up the creaky wooden staircase that led up into the balcony.

“What do you mean?” asked Carter, intrigued, for he knew that cleaning was a dullest of jobs, and so conversations were the more effective method of keeping away the maddening boredom. 

“Well usually they only tidy up this hall when they plan on putting on a show.” Nettles explained, playing with his broom as they got to the top of the stairs and walked to the end of the balcony. “And they don’t put on a show unless there’s a special holiday or someone from the outside is coming to visit, but since there are no upcoming holidays, the question is, who’d want to visit here in the dead of winter?”

“Perhaps they recently invented a new holiday, and you just don’t know about it.” Carter joked. “For all you know we might be celebrating the Grand-Prince’s dog’s birthday in a few days!”

Nettles let out a loud laugh, which Carter found quite adorable, given that Nettles was more than four years his junior. His voice and carefree mannerisms reminded him of simpler times. “It must be someone looking to feel good about themselves.” He then added sincerely. “Hopefully someone with deep enough pockets to satisfy Mr. Wardy.”

Nettles chuckled and nodded in agreement as they swept the balcony floor from one end to the other. Once they were done with the floor, they turned to the walls and began wiping away the cobwebs that had formed between the columns and along the corner where the wall met the ceiling.

“Fin told me he was planning a great party over at your dorm!” he mentioned offhandedly as he jumped and wacked a web with his broom.

“Yes, it’s Percy’s last birthday, the adults may not think it a special occasion, but Fin has vowed to make it one.” Carter explained, straining himself as he stretched his arm as far as it could go.

“Well, from the way he describes it, it will be the most special of occasions! ‘Like nothing this decrepit house has ever seen!’ were his exact words if I remember correctly.”

“Well that certainly sounds like him.” Carter sighed with a smile as he took a step back and leaned on his broom, his arm now thoroughly aching.

“Say, you don’t suppose he plans on inviting boys from the other dorms, do you?” he asked with a look of restlessness. “I think it would be unfair if he didn’t.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I doubt even Fin is brilliant enough to organize a party for five hundred guests.” Carter replied regretfully whilst he sat in a chair near the front of the balcony and let out a deep breath. An expression of disappointment appeared on Nettles’ face as sat on the chair next to him, looking equally exhausted. Seeing that made Carter frown, for it made him feel as though he had cruelly dashed his dreams.

“Well, I suppose you could get him to invite you specifically.” He then added whilst grinning and rolling his eyes. Those words made Nettles’ face light up with joy and hope.

“You really think he’d do that?”

“I’m sure he would!” Carter exclaimed with half-hearted enthusiasm, trying his best to hide his lack of sureness. “Though knowing him, he’ll make you earn it. Although I could put in a good word you if you want.”

“How kind of you, though that won’t be necessary.” Nettles declined politely. “If Fin wants to make me earn it, then so be it. I’d much rather you sing my praises to Percy.”

Carter raised his eyebrows out of curiosity. “Really? For what?”

“The Digger’s Club! He’s going to have to step down as the Tunnel Lord, is he not?”

“And you want to take his place?” Carter inquired, feeling genuinely surprised.

Nettles looked off into the distanced and shrugged. “Well, seeing as you and Fin are too old to take it. And only a few people have been in the Club as long as me, so I cannot help but feel as though it is my destiny.”

“Well, if it’s your destiny then you don’t need me, do you?” Carter retorted whilst raising his eyebrow. Nettles paused and stuttered, seemingly taken aback by such a swift remark.

“Even destiny could use a little help, could it not?” he replied, lifting his shoulders and smiling hopefully.

Carter tried his best to hold in his true reaction by feigning a smile, but unfortunately, he lacked the strength to maintain the façade, for almost immediately his smile broke and he began bellowing giddy laughter, which made Nettles’ face go red with embarrassment.

“Why are you laughing? He asked in a confused and annoyed voice. “You don’t think I should get the Bucket Crown?”

“No of course I do!” Carter reassured as he calmed himself. He felt as though he had rested enough and so he got back on his feet, let out a deep breath and grabbed his broom. Seeing this, Nettles did the same. But before they returned to work Carter placed his hand on Nettles’ shoulder and shook him gently.

“Worry not, I’ll be sure to place good words in Percy’s ear before the club convenes again, assuming of course he hasn’t already chosen someone else.”

Once again, his words made Nettles’ face beam with excitement as he clenched his fists restlessly, which in turn made Carter happy. “Gosh, thank you ever so much! I swear, once I have the title, you shall have my eternal gratitude!”

“I suppose I could always use another lord on my side.” Carter chuckled, shaking Nettles again before patting his back.

Returning to their work, they slowly made their way down from the balcony and onto the main audience floor of the hall, with neither of them stopping till the last grains of sand inside the sandglass fell. By the time Carter peered over at the piano and saw the empty sandglass, they had done what he considered to be a spectacular job, for the once messy Music Hall now appeared almost completely spotless. Feeling thoroughly thirsty and exhausted with their clothes lightly stained with sweat, they both then sat at the edge of the stage and waited for Mr. Welf to return. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long, for less than ten minutes after the sandglass had run out, he came bursting through the door, his hand still holding the green file.

“Welcome back, sir.” Carter greeted cheerfully as he and Nettles stood up and displayed proud postures.  Mr. Welf’s mind appeared to be preoccupied with some other matter, for it was only after Carter had spoken did, he take notice of him and Nettles.

“Oh, you two are still here?” Mr. Welf replied half-heartedly. “I thought I told you to leave once your time was up.”

Carter and Nettles both exchanged glances, for they could both sense an undertone of annoyance in both Mr. Welf’s voice and expression, which was not the response they were expecting. Yet, they both tried to appear unfazed by his hostile demeanor.

“Well, sir, we thought it would be a little rude to dash away undismissed.” Carter said nervously. Fortunately, his answer seemed to satisfy Mr. Welf.

“Fair enough, I suppose. I hereby dismiss you both, now go.” He sighed impatiently, to which Carter and Nettles then bowed their heads graciously. Mr. Welf then looked around the room, examining the walls and floor with narrow eyes. Instead of simply walking away, Carter stood in place, hoping to see his reaction to their splendid work. He expected him to be impressed, however he was met with only a disappointed frown. “It appears even with two hours at your disposal, you both failed to bring this place to a presentable standard.”

Carter eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly as he felt overwhelmed by confusion. “Pardon?” Nettles gasped with an insulted look, a look he then sorely regretted making when Mr. Welf replied to his question with a glare.

“I’m sorry, do you disagree with what I just stated, Mr. Nettles?” he asked in a slow, intimidating voice as he used his superior height to loom over the boy. In response, Nettles immediately recoiled in fear as he moved closer to Carter, who knew that Mr. Welf was far less merciful that Mr. Hartfort.

“No, sir. I think he simply misunderstood you.” He interjected with an innocent smile whilst stepping between Nettles and Mr. Welf. “It’s just that he and I did all we could to tidy up this room and…”

“Well, from what I can see, your efforts were clearing not enough, Mr. Carrington.” Mr. Welf stated bluntly. “This house shall be hosting a very special guest in the coming days, and in order to meet their standards this hall must be spotless!”

He then took a step forward and groaned whilst rubbing the gap between his eyes with his fingers as he kept taking deep breaths, which made Carter realize just how stressed he really was. “I told them to send me all they could spare, and they respond by playing ridiculous games just to spite me over my principles!” he cursed and mumbled to himself, much to the confusion Carter and Nettles.

He seemed to notice their perplexed expression, for soon after he then paused and stared at them awkwardly. “I dismissed you both, did I not?” he asked calmly, visibly suppressing his inner resentments.

Both boys, unable to think of a proper way to respond, nodded in response. However, even that seemed to frustrate him even more. “Then leave.” He ordered, waving his hand at them as he began walking to his office. “I shall have you both back here tomorrow, hopefully with a few more sets of hands to aid you for at this state, this hall sits far below the standards of the guest.”

“If I may sir!” Nettles then chimed, which prompted Mr. Welf to stop walking and look over his shoulder. “Who this is guest going to be? Are they someone important?”

Carter felt the urge to place his palm on his face, for he felt as though Nettles was poking a sleeping bear. Fortunately, Mr. Welf’s patience had not yet been broken.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that at the moment.” Mr. Welf replied hastily. “I suspect you’ll hear it from the warden in the coming days. Now go, my students will be here any minute.”

Both boys then bowed their heads before turning around walking towards the door. Carter was eager to leave the room, fearing that at any moment, Nettles would turn around and ask another unnecessary question. Once they were outside, they closed the door and stood beside it, waiting for the choir boys to the arrive.

“What was that thing Mr. Welf babbled about in there?” Nettles asked, both out of curiosity and as a way of passing the time, for neither he nor Carter was certain about how long they would be forced to wait. “It sounds like he and Mr. Wardy are having some sort of spat.”

“Perhaps, but whatever the case may be, Mr. Welf doesn’t want us know about it.” Carter answered casually, feigning disinterest for he knew that prying into staff affairs was a tempting yet dangerous game. “And in truth, it should not concern us, who are we to do anything about it?”

Nettles nodded in agreement though it was clear his mind was still pondering possibilities. “Still, it must be a quite a big disagreement if Mr. Wardy is willing to risk disappointing a guest over it.”

“From what I hear, Mr. Wardy isn’t particularly patient with those beneath him, children and staff alike, so I doubt it would take a particularly brazen act of defiance to set him off.” Carter argued, taking an opportunity to subtly express his personal opinions about Mr. Wardy. Nettles gave him a look of amusement and nodded along to his words, for it seemed as though he too thought the same way.

Not long afterwards, a procession consisting of boys clad in navy blue robes entered the hallway and began approaching them. The group was composed of boys from a wide range of ages, though sadly none of them belonged to Carter’s dorm. He knew them to be a rather tight knit and untrusting group, though he did not blame them for it. For he had lived with his peers long enough that other boys could be harsh and judgmental towards those who are considered unusual. Yet despite his sympathy, when they came, he did not converse with them, though the same couldn’t be said for Nettles, who greeted them and in turn was rewarded by a bombardment of wary questions.

Whilst that occurred, Carter turned around and looked to the nearest adjacent hallway, which happened to be the one that led to the Administrative Wing. The mere sight of the entrance made him feel uneasy, for it reminded him of the fate that awaited him, Percy and every other boy who roamed this house. Feeling a little curious, he walked over and peeked his head over the corner. He was met with blue walls that led to a large and ominous door, guarded by a man in a grey uniform. He could feel the grey guard’s gaze weigh down on him the moment his head appeared within view, and so he stared back, feeling awkward, yet unwilling to look away.

“Cart, you coming?” he then heard Nettles call, which made his mind remember the task at hand. He looked away from the guard and made his way back to Nettles, who stood with his hand holding the door half open.

“I say we move quick and hide under the balcony; surely he won’t notice us from under there.” Nettles suggested.

“Not now, we still have to wait for Fin and Pers first. Besides, when the singing starts everyone will be too distracted to look our way, so it’s better to go in then.” Carter retorted.

And so, they waited. Soon the sweet sound of music began emanating from the door, followed by the haunting synchronized harmony of the choir boys and their accompanying instruments as they began reciting their well-rehearsed lyrics. Carter and Nettles listened whilst keeping the door slightly open, a position Carter found to be quite awkward, and nowhere near ideal for listening to music. Fortunately, they did not have to wait for long, for not long after the singing started, Carter saw two people enter the hallway from the corner of his eyes. As they got closer, he recognized Percy, however he realized that the boy walking next to him wasn’t Fin.

“We made it!” Percy panted as he and the other boy jogged up to the door.

“Where’s Fin?” asked Carter, looking at the boy accompanying Percy. He was a younger boy, a few inches shorter than both Percy and Carter, with dark brown and a face sprinkled with freckles. He was also fat, which was his most defining feature, for even his wide silhouette was all that Carter needed to recognize him.

“Fin couldn’t make it; told me he angered the bookkeepers and they’re making him run a late shift as revenge. So, I brought Bods along instead!”

Carter sigh in frustration, though he wasn’t entirely surprised, for this was far from the first time Fin had received such a punishment. “Well, I suppose we better get going then, yes?” Bodrick chimed, to which others agreed unanimously. They then slowly opened the door and tip toed their way into the room. The moment they passed through the door. Carter’s ears were overwhelmed by the sound of a piano melody and a dozen merry voices. He and the others stayed close to the wall as they moved under the shade of the balcony. Carter felt their caution was unwarranted, for like he had said, Mr. Welf had his eyes fixed on his piano whilst the choir and fiddle players had their faces buried in their songbooks and sheet music.

The group made their way to the corner of one of the back rows and selected four seats situated at the edge of the balcony’s shade. The boys swiftly dusted the cloth covering the chairs with their hands and sat down just as the choir ended their current song and Mr. Welf began playing the tune of another one.

“Walking on in the reddened grass! With the weight of iron on our backs! Marching to an anthem, under a flag! A great ways away from home!”

“Oh, I know this one!” Bodrick exclaimed before the choir finished their first sentence, keeping his voice to a near whisper. “It’s the March of the Sun Soldiers! I saw it once in a songbook my friend Humphrey lent me!”

“Your friends with one of the choir boys?” Nettles then asked, his curiosity piqued by Bods casual statement. Bodrick gave him a sideways glance, for he had clearly not intended to start a conversation in the middle of a song, however at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to deny Nettles an answer to his question.

“Sort of, there used to be two choir boys in my dorm, but one of them got summoned last month, now Humphrey’s the only one left. He had no one else to talk to and we both shared a common enemy; thus, we became allies.”

“Fascinating!” Nettles exclaimed. “He sounds like someone I’d very much like you meet some time!”

Bodrick shook his head and waved his hand, much to Nettles’ disappointment. “Sorry, but he’s rather shy about talking to anyone outside the choir. The only reason he talks to me it’s because I share his disdain for Rupert Abbey.”

Nettles’ eyes widened in shock. “Rupert Abbey? So, the Humphrey you speak of must be Humphrey Clipton then, wasn’t he the one who lost his looking glass?”

“He didn’t lose it. It was stolen.” Bodrick corrected, raising his voice. “And Humphrey and I both know that Abbey was the one who took it, that no-good wretch!”

“I would appreciate it if both of you could quiet down, please!” Percy then interrupted as he shushed the both of them with his finger, which made both Bodrick and Nettles close their mouths and awkwardly stared back at the stage just as the choir began the second verse.

“We siege the moon in the sea of stars! It's protector's spears pierce our hearts! And yet we march, oh come what may! Knowing that the sun will dawn one day!”

“So, does your friend talk to you tell you about the choir?” Carter then asked as an idea entered his mind. Bodrick immediately open his mouth to answer, only to shut it out of fear when he glanced to his side and was met by Percy’s disapproving frown. Yet, eager for a response, Carter gestured towards Bodrick with his hands and reassured him of his safety, which convinced him to reluctantly overlook Percy.

“He doesn’t tell me much, just odd pieces of gossip here and there.” He answered whilst Percy grumbled at him in frustration.

“And would he tell you about them if you asked him?” Carter pressed on, though his questions lacked the subtlety to not arouse Bodrick’s suspicions.

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” he replied with his eyebrow raised.

“Because Nettles and I think Mr. Welf is having a spat with the rest of the staff.” Carter explained, leaning closer to Bodrick and speaking in a secretive tone.

“What?” bellowed both Percy and Bodrick at the same time with expressions of shock on their faces. Carter then glanced briefly at Nettles and lightly nudged his shoulder.

“Indeed!” He then chimed in. “We overheard him in private scolding Mr. Wardy and the other staff. He seemed convinced that sending only two of us to clean up the whole Music Hall before the arrival of the guest was the staff’s way of spiting him!”

Bodrick blinked several times as his mind absorbed what Nettles had just uttered. “Well, given what Mr. Wardy’s supposedly like, that certainly doesn’t sound entirely unplausible, but what does any of this have to do with Humphrey?”

“Well, perhaps he knows the reason behind their quarrel.” Carter answered confidently, thinking back to the moment Mr. Welf mentioned his principles. “Whatever disagreements Mr. Welf has with the staff must involve the choir, so surely he must’ve heard something!”

“That is quite the assumption.” Bodrick remarked. “But even if you’re right, and he does know something, I doubt I could get him to tell me about it. And besides, why would you even want to know something like that?”

“Because knowledge is power.” Percy interjected impatiently, seemingly intent on bringing their conversation to a swift conclusion. “Cart wants to know because knowing means he can potentially play the adults off each other in case he ever needs to get out of trouble, just like the older boys in our dorm used to do whenever they invoked the ire of the staff.”

Once again, Bodrick appeared taken by surprise as he then turned to Carter and looked at him as though he was looking at a nefarious finger tenting schemer, an imagine that Carter knew would not get him what he wanted.

“Or I’m simply too curious for my own good!” he countered. “Either way, you wouldn’t mind doing a friend a favor now, would you Bods?”

Bodrick paused for a moment before reluctantly nodding his head, much to Carter’s joy. “Alright!” he sighed. “I suppose it’s worth a shot. Frankly, now you’ve got me all curious about this whole affair. But if Humphrey doesn’t want to tell me, I won’t pester him, you got that?”

Carter nodded in agreement. “Fair enough!”

“Fantastic! Now will all of you quiet down and let me listen?” Percy pleaded. “Because unlike all of you, soon I may never get to listen to another song in this hall!”

Unwilling to risk Percy’s wrath, all of them then went silent as they tucked themselves into their seats and faced the choir silently. However, by that point, only the last verse of the song remained.

“Wet with the blood of Men and Folk! Marching to a storm with an oath to hold! To defend our home, O come what may! With a dream to see the sun dawn there one day!”

The choir would continue to sing for a several more hours, however the four of them did not stay long enough to hear all of it, for they knew that the longer they stayed, the more they risked being seen by Mr. Welf. So, after about a half a dozen more songs they collectively decided to take their leave. They then got up from their chairs and spread some dust onto the cloth covering they had previously wiped before, thus making it seem as though they had never been in the first place. They then slowly sneaked out of the hall before parting ways as Carter and Percy made their way back to Dormitory Fourteen and Nettles and Bodrick made returned to their own dorms.

Soon, as dusk descended upon the streets of Renanberg, Carter found himself in the kitchens, with a tray full of teacups in his arms and a goal to deliver them to his dormitory, similar to how Percy had done in the morning. Though he often loathed working even after his usual shift had been completed, the kitchens were perhaps the most pleasant area in the entirety of Saint Annalise House, for they were always filled with the sweetest and most hunger inducing aromas which emanated from all the foods they prepared, most of which were reserved for the staff. The smells were so strong that they spread to the nearby hallways and acted as sort of guide for any who wished to find the source of their origin.

But though the surroundings were warm and pleasant, the people who actually worked in the kitchen were anything but. Even as one of the cooks handed Carter the tea tray, he saw him along with several other people stare at him with suspicious looks as they deliberately made sure that he couldn’t go near anything edible, which was a reasonable measure given the Carter wouldn’t hesitate to grab what he could.

Carter silently the tray and made his way back to his dormitory, challenging himself to not a spill a single drop until he reached his destination. He could feel the steam from the cups warm up his chin as his ears began to pick up the sounds of children chattering and arguing with each other as they echoed through the hallway that led into the Boy’s Wing. Finally, once he reached the entrance to Dormitory Fourteen, he carefully shifted the tray into one hand before using his other hand to open the door. He then stepped inside the dorm, only to be met with a mob of his juniors, all ravenously reaching towards their cups. Fortunately, he managed to hold the tray steady as the boys all snatched their cups without so much as a thank you.

Once they were done, Carter was left with only three cups. He then made his way to his bed and placed the tray on top of his drawer. On the bed next to his was Percy, with his head resting on his pillow and his shoeless feet hanging over edge of the bedframe, his eyes staring into his copy of the Canterberg Tales, which he then politely put down the moment Carter arrived.

“I don’t suppose you managed to swipe anything while they weren’t look, eh?” he asked as sat up on his bed and grabbed his teacup. Carter shook his head.

“You should’ve let me take this shift like I was supposed to.” Percy then sighed, lamenting the lack of ill-gotten treats.

“Well, I couldn’t let you do my shift for me and not repay it.” Carter retorted.

“But I didn’t even do it for you, I did it for the biscuits! That makes this feels like a punishment more than a favor!” Percy whined, to which Carter only smiled politely.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, because I officially declare us even!”

Just then, the door to the dormitory burst open and in came Fin, who Carter hadn’t seen since lunch. He limped with exhaustion all the way to his bed before collapsing into his sheets so carelessly that I made his bed frame creak in agony. He then buried his face his pillow and groaned. Percy and Carter then exchanged glances before Percy grabbed the last remaining teacup and turned to Fin.

“Well, gosh, it seems those bookkeepers did quite number on you.” He chuckled whilst placing the teacup at the edge of Fin’s drawer.

“Oh saints, don’t remind me!” Fin moaned as he looked up from his pillow. “Don’t let their bookish looks fool you, those number-loving wretches will work you the bone if you anger them!”

“And I’m sure that is exactly what you did.” Percy stated. “Though I am curious to know exactly how you did it.”

Fin grumbled as he tossed his sheets aside and sat up on his bed before sighing and looking off into the distance, his mouth hesitating, seemingly out of embarrassment. “I… called Mr. Murton a pompous pig-faced prick and told him to sod off.”

His confession made both Percy and Carter pressed their teeth and recoil with expressions of pain on their faces. A reaction that only further soured Fin’s mood.

“Well, you had been there, you’d have agreed with me!” he bellowed in his defense before grabbing his teacup and drinking it all in one sip. “My words were entirely honest and accurate!”

“They probably were.” Percy agreed with a nod as he held in a laugh. “But I doubt Mr. Murton is ready to face such hard truth, so its best that we keep things to ourselves, eh?”

The frown on Fin’s face slowly faded away and was replaced by a smirk. He then suddenly grabbed the base of Percy’s neck and pulled him down before aggressively rubbing his friend’s hair with his fist.

“Oh, right as always!” he exclaimed cheerfully as Percy tried to free himself from his grasp whilst Carter watched on, chuckling in amusement. Fortunately for him, Fin let him go after a few seconds, leaving him looking dazed as his hair looking like a wild bush. Fin then fell back onto his bed.

“I think I’ll take a nap, can’t risk being too tired for the pillow brawl! Wake me up when its Changing Time!” he instructed before covering his head with his pillow. Percy rolled his eyes at him, but Carter knew that when the time comes, he’ll obliged Fin’s request. But for now, he too emptied his teacup and placed it back on the tea tray before returning to his book.

Seeing the empty teacup reminded Carter that he needed to return the tray to the kitchen, he looked around the dorm and saw that almost everyone else had finished their tea. So, he too then drained his own cup before taking the tray and collecting the other teacups from the boys in the dorm. He then walked over towards Fin’s bed to get his cup, but as he reached towards the drawer he gazed down at Fin’s body, only to noticed something rather peculiar. For, he noticed a small black on his neck, half hidden by his collar. He had never seen anything like it before, but seeing as Fin already appeared to be asleep, he decided not to bother him about it. Instead, he quietly took the cup before walking out of the dormitory and heading back to the kitchen.

Soon dusk was followed by the darkness of night, though even as the moon began to ascend the sky, the dormitories of Saint Annalise House remained loud and lively. However, once the dorm clock struck eight, they all lined up in front of the door and made their way to the lavatories. For there, piled up on tables near the entrance, were their nightgowns, which had been washed by the boys who had been given a laundry shift. Once they had changed into their gowns, they placed their day clothes on the table before returning to their beds, for by the time that every boy in house had changed, the dorm clock’s hand had almost reached ten. And once it did, the Wing Bell sounded one last time and the Minders once again descended into the dorms in order to put out every source of light in the entire building.

What they saw when peered into the dormitories were children sleeping neatly on their beds, however, about ten minutes after they had closed the doors and departed in order to rest their own heads, all the boys in all the dorms slowly arose from their sheets and grabbed their pillow as they readied themselves for battle. In Dormitory Fourteen, they took a candle lit with a match and handed it to Percy, who then slowly opened the dorm door and led them all to Dormitory Seven, where all several of the older dorms had gathered. Once they were all ready, one boy from Dormitory Four made the first strike and the entire group proceeded to descend into pandemonium as the dorms waged war against each other, using their pillows as their swords and their sheets as their armor. Yet even such a chaotic brawl was not without manners, for everyone who took part in it tried their best to be as quiet as possible in order to not attract the attention of the Minders.

Carter wasn’t the best pillow warrior, for despite all the advantages he had in terms of age and height, he could not match his junior’s zeal or determination, and was thus outmaneuvered easily. However, unlike him, both Fin and Percy showed far more skill and enthusiasm. Percy especially displayed an incredible amount of bravery and ferocity as he led several of the juniors in an all-out assault on the boys of Dormitory Five.

“To victory!” he cried as he drove the enemy to take cover behind one of the beds. However, their triumph was swiftly undone when the boys of Dormitory Seven attacked them from the side. They were caught utterly unprepared, and thus suffered major casualties. Percy found himself being bombarded from multiple sides, a situation he could only escape from when Carter and Fin engaged his attackers and came to his rescue. Together they dragged him back onto his feet before continuing their battle.

The brawl lasted until past midnight, after which point all the boys slowly left and returned to their own dorms. Unfortunately, Carter’s dorm did not walk away with victory, and Percy was left was so exhausted that he had to make his back whilst leaning on Carter’s shoulder. The three of them then collapsed onto their beds as soon as they reached them.

“What a night!” Fin exclaimed. “I swear on the saints those Dorm Seven boys had stones hidden inside those pillows! No other way they could hit that hard! They rigged their own game!”

“Well, I don’t it’s wise to jump to accusations just because we got pummeled.” Carter pointed out. “After all, we all still had fun, right Percy?”

Percy did not reply immediately, for his mind appeared to be preoccupied as he stared up at the ceiling, frowning with a somber expression, something which concerned both Carter and Fin.

“You alright, Pers?” Fin asked. His question made Percy snap back to reality as he let out a slight gasp and turned towards him.

“What? Oh, yes, of course I am!” he assured, yet his tone did little to convince either of them.

“If this is about the brawl then there’s no use being upset about it.” Fin uttered with a smile. “I’m quite sure even real generals would fold like cards if they were caught off guard like that, we’ll just have to take our revenge next time!”

Yet strangely, his encouraging words only seemed to make Percy’s feel more upset as he then returned to staring at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Well, that is the problem, is it not?” he asked rhetorically. “There will no next time, not for me at least.”

Fin and Carter looked at each other warily as they both contemplated the most appropriate to reply to Percy. “Well perhaps, but in that case Cart and I will avenge you, and then we can laugh about it later when we’re all out of here.”

That response seemed to improve Percy’s mood, though not entirely. “And what if we never meet again, hmm? What if these are our last few days seeing each other?”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Fin replied confidently. “After all, we have a plan, right? Cart and I will wait for you at that bar till we’re both wrinkly old grey beards! And you know you’d do the same for us!”

Percy smiled and nodded; his worries thoroughly eased. “Well, that seems enough middle of the night dreading, don’t you agree?” Carter then chimed in. “After all, you’re not out of here just yet! You still have some shifts to run!”

Percy and Fin chuckled and nodded as they all then covered themselves with their sheets and assumed their preferred sleeping positions. Carter usually slept facing the dorm window, which emitted an ethereal glow as moonlight reflected off the frost covered glass. Despite his positive view of things, the cold darkness made him think about his own future and his own upcoming summons, and how every second that passed only made the day draw closer and closer. However, he knew that he would never sleep if he let his heart sink into dread, so he instead filled his thought with as many good things as possible, mainly pleasant memories and all the things he was looking forward to knowing. And that helped him slowly drift away into a peaceful slumber under the glimmering Great Borough stars.

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