2407 Xavem 31, Daleth

Sera sat at his desk, rolling his wrist as he rested his hand from writing all afternoon. To his left sat the open box of nalda with the hidden compartment inside. The key to it hung around his neck, fashioned as a strange necklace. Only he and Darmer could open the compartment. The maid bringing the compartment in and out of the Palace didn't know what she was transporting and Sera was determined to keep it that way. The less people dragged into this, the better.

The last five days were nothing but a barrage of attacks towards the Potentate's office. Sera had to see how far the government would go to keep the "peace" it so proudly upheld. So far, he had revealed the Advisers' hidden transactions and how they fill their pockets with the versal meant for the territory. The news that came back to him was that Adviser Khirun had thrown a massive tantrum about how the prints were just rumors.

He had to play it safe, though. His information was coming from the inventories and he shouldn't reveal things that didn't have any trail besides the records. That way, the Potentate wouldn't think the accusations were coming from inside the Palace, itself. Sera had them think they're standing against a crafty investigator instead of the next Potentate in line.

After Sera was locked up last week, he figured upping his game was due. He didn't have the time to sit around and wait for the Potentate to root him and his friends out. If there was a perfect time to show his hand, it would be now.

Darmer's letter to Sera, one that arrived with the nalda box this morning, detailed everything that's happening in the city, mostly in Calca. The presence of armed soldiers patrolling the roads have doubled since the start of the month and might have tripled since the Ember Chronicles started.

The protests Sera and Blazes have been stirring subtly in their entries was always a hotspot for armed struggle and violence. Darmer mentioned several protesters being injured on site. Some had escaped to the nearby houses, others to the trading city in Gligan, but the next day or some weeks after, the soldiers would always trace them out and arrest them.

So, Sera spent his while in house arrest keeping up his barrage, pushing and pushing until something snapped. He needed to get the Potentate so riled up he's determined to tear down Lanbridhr just to find the Inferno and his henchmen. Lastly, Sera needed his father to be desperate enough to get his attention. It wasn't enough to stoke the fire. Sera actually had to let it burn everything the Palace stood for to the ground.

Gaimouth, for the first time in centuries and since Lanbridhr became an autonomous state, was nearing full capacity. According to the chatter with the maids and other workers in the Palace, the Potentate had once exclaimed in a rather iconic fashion, "Load up the prison cells. I want everyone who will defy me in there!"

Of course, Sera had used that very line in his article. The response the next day was amazing. It was exactly what he dreamed about the night before. Soon, the hunt for the Inferno and the place where the prints were coming from started. Sera had warned the people that the Ember Chronicles might be found out soon and, surprisingly, there were bouts of protests popping up in the city—ones Sera had never incited.

But today...was different. His only news about the Potentate and the Advisers' movements came from the maids bringing him lunch. Today, the Potentate has decreed a city-wide search. They would enter buildings without a care, no doubt looking for the press. He had to warm Darmer and the others to be extra discreet. Then again, he was sure those people knew how to keep to themselves and not raise suspicions.

Deflect attention. In every way they could. It's an important skill, especially in the conclusion of this drawn-out war.

Sera turned back to his present article, which would hopefully go out tomorrow. On the parchment's surface, there were already words written.

This is the government we have let have the power over us. They are sneaky, vile witches, hoping to fill more of their own coffers than invest in the territory's well-being. They appear to be concerned about its subjects, all the while looking for ways to exploit their hard work, their grit, and their ability to think and speak freely.

This is not the government that should rule over us. We, the people, have the power to decide what kind of government we must have. The choice rests on us. You are not weak. You are not without power. Law exists only for our benefit and not for our doom. It should not be used as a weapon to achieve an end. It should not be a tool for oppression.

To the Potentate, I, as the Inferno, have only one request.

Sera lifted his hand from the parchment, stopping the flow of his thoughts. What would supposedly happen after the Palace knew the purpose of the Ember Chronicles had been just to free the prisoners convicted because of their opinions? Would the Potentate let them go just this once or would he kill them in Gaimouth all the same? Knowing his father, the Potentate wouldn't admit some upstart print managed to overrule him. Sera knew his father would do all he could to look like he hadn't bowed to another force, be it his own son or the people he was supposed to be ruling over.

Sera needed a heavier hand, something that would force the Potentate to adhere no matter the circumstance. Something that was so important that Lanbridhr couldn't function without it. Something...

His gaze landed on a servant picking rhenne fruits on the courtyard. The long, three-pronged staff in the servant's hand poked at the fruits' stems, catching those that fell with a woven basket slung in his arm. Picking fruits. Producing food.

It clicked. Of course—trade.

Sera turned back to his article and crossed out the last line he wrote. Then, continuing the thought of his last paragraph, he wrote,

The people call for the Law to be changed. We want a territory where we will not be persecuted for having our opinions, a territory where we are free to say what we want in all matters, including the government and the way certain things are in our society. We do not stand against the state's crimes against our brethren.

The state should release those convicted for speaking out against the Potentate from Gaimouth and let them live their lives without prejudice. That's what the people want.

If the government does not adhere, then, you, as an individual, are not required to go to work in order to make Lanbridhr flourish. Work to feed yourself and those closest to you. Do not give the state a grena of your earnings. If the Palace doesn't value its people, its people shouldn't value it either.

Tomorrow, show your solidarity for the wrongly-accused by abandoning your posts in society. Don't go back until the Potentate relents. Only when the prisoners in Gaimouth are released can we go back to our service to the territory.

To the Potentate, I, the Inferno, wish with all my might that you will choose the wiser choice for the benefit of your people. To the fire sprites of Lanbridhr, remember that the power lies on your hands. You have the power to change the world. We only have to start now.

Avraja.

Signed,

The Inferno

Sera let his graphite stick clatter against his desk. A slab of nohrill rubber sat a few inches from his finished article. He'd use that to erase the line he had crossed so Darmer wouldn't mistake it as part of the article again.

For now, Sera blew a breath and stared at his article. After he had sent the box containing this parchment, how things would unfold would be out of his hands. Everything relied on how the Potentate would react. Their work would either shorten or lengthen depending on what happens tomorrow and the following days.

Was Sera prepared with both scenarios? He'd better be.

Steeling his nerves, he tucked the parchment into the compartment, slammed it shut, and took the last bite off the last nalda wrap the box came with. Then, he closed the box as a whole before knocking on the door. The soldier opened it with a huff. Sera smiled and handed him the box. "Can you hand this over to Harsen when she passes by? I need a new batch of nalda by evening."

The soldier nodded. As long as he doesn't open the box, Sera's secret should be safe. He shouldn't have handed it this early. Harsen came not a moment too soon, Sera hearing her tight voice from his place by the door. He heard a thud, a click, and the sound of footsteps disappearing down the corridor. He counted precisely a minute before dashing to the open windows.

There, Harsen's small form tore through the courtyard in short steps. She stopped by the gate, no doubt explaining to the guards how the Crown Prince needed another batch of nalda and to wait for the next delivery. Then, the wooden gates swung open and Harsen slipped through, silent as a spirit. After a few moments, she slipped back inside, the box nowhere to be found in her hands.

Sera blew a breath and staggered to his bed. Tomorrow couldn't wait. He couldn't wait for it. Not anymore. Would his months of effort pay off or would they mark his doom? The fact that he didn't know sent chills down his arms and dread curling in his gut.

He turned to his side, picking at the dirt the graphite stick left in his nails. There's no use in sleeping. It's not like he would get any tonight.