2407 Crescin 01, Reshpe

A loud pounding on his door snapped Sera from his boredom. After sending in his last article and waiting for the prints to come out, he had been reduced into a sitting fowl inside his room. Would the Potentate get him to chop him to pieces?

The door opened and spilled forth Harsen. Judging from how she huffed and braced her knees to catch her breath, she must have run all the way here. Sera raised an eyebrow as he slipped out of his chair to meet the maid halfway.

"What's going on?" Sera asked.

The maid gulped a few more breaths before straightening, wiping the sweat on her forehead with her long sleeves. "The Potentate has summoned you to the throne hall," she said.

Sera blinked. The throne hall and not the court hall? That's new. This wasn't the response he had counted on but to get the full picture of the Potentate's response, he'd have to see for himself. Did the summon mean his house arrest was over?

"Thank you for telling me, Harsen," he said, startling the maid into gaping at him. Yeah, they always act like that whenever he lets the fact that he knew them by name slip. "I'll get ready and head there shortly."

Harsen clasped her hand by her bodice and bowed. She retreated out the door, the soldier guarding it shutting it behind her. Sera waited for the lock to click but it never came. He strode towards his closet and yanked out the only vest he had left. After Darmer had tinkered with all the listening devices in his vests, he couldn't bring himself to keep looking at them on a daily basis knowing what they carried.So, he stuffed all of them into a spare crate he used as a storage bin for so long, keeping just one for the rare occasions of him going out.

That's what house arrest would do to a person.

Sera donned his vest, hoping with all his might Darmer had truly stopped the device's listening functions. Because if not, the workers in charge of listening in would have heard everything that happened in the press. He gave his vest one last tuck, to make sure he didn't gain weight from doing nothing but eat nalda inside his room, before trudging to the door and giving it a light tap. The soldier from the other side opened it.

Like a free man on his first day out of prison. Sera stepped out with an inexplicable awe ripping from his system and bleeding into his lips. The corridors felt too big now that Sera walked into them after getting used to the limiting corners of his room. The tapestries had never looked so colorful.

When he got to the throne hall, there were a lot more servants crowding at the door than he remembered. He had to squeeze in, muttering his excuse-mes just to get to the hall's twin doors. As soon as the doors opened, the Potentate's voice rang through the space and bled into the corridor.

"Don't tell me to bend to them!" his father yelled. Sera turned to the source of the voice to find the Potentate standing from his throne, red in the face, staring daggers at the poor Adviser who suggested something last. "I don't take orders from peasants! What's the update on their operations?"

Adviser Yerhon stepped from the line of his councilmates flanking both sides of the dais, joining the other adviser who got yelled at. The Potentate's chest heaved, anger turning the air notches hotter. Sera got behind the crowd of Advisers to the dais' right, the one nearest to the door, and blended with them. WIth his vest and dark trousers, he fit right in.

"Have you seen the city, Your Highness?" Adviser Yerhon said. "The Inferno actually managed to sway the fire sprites into his favor. None of them showed up for work today. Trade has halted and is expected to impact Lanbridhr's economy negatively. If we let this continue, we may never recover."

Sera kept his smile to himself. That's the move he came up with when writing that last article to force the Potentate's hand. Threaten the thing they fought so hard to nurture. Then, make your demands while making sure one has the higher power. In this case, the people wouldn't bother serving the government unless the Inferno's goal was realized. The Inferno only gained traction because he represented the common fairy. Now, Sera could make his demands freely.

"I'm asking for the update on their operations, Adviser," the Potentate crumpled the sheet of parchment in his hands and threw it at Yerhon. The Adviser remained stone-faced even as the ball bounced off his face. "You forget your place."

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Adviser Yerhon bowed again, the blaze in his eyes resembled the synnavaim gurgling beneath his skin. "But we have halted all actions about it. Our economy takes precedence over everything else."

The Potentate clicked his tongue. "Then flog these people," he said. "Force them to work. Throw those who didn't want to work into Gaimouth."

A conflict of interest. That's another unforeseen consequence of Sera's article. He didn't count on it but it sure delighted him he had achieved this effect. What would the Potentate do now that he and his supposed allies were standing on opposite poles?

"Your Highness, if I may speak," Adviser Ailun stepped forward and bowed. "But I don't think hurting our workforce any more than we did will do us any good. It will only deter them from recognizing our authority."

The Potentate clenched his fists. Oh, he hated being backed into a corner. "Seravel," he hissed. The crowd of Advisers in front of him parted like the tide, leaving him exposed to the plain wrath of his father. "What do you think we should do in this situation?"

Sera resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the strict and knowing look his father was shooting him from the dais. That's what their talk was for. The Potentate was merely looking for someone to help him solidify his stances and apparent naivety.

So, Sera ought to use his father's own card against him. He flashed a clueless look at his father. "What situation, exactly, Your Highness?" he said. "I was locked up in my room the entire time. I'm afraid I was already behind everything."

The Potentate's face fell. Visibly. Oh, he's going to feel betrayed. And he would hate it. So much. Sera had lived with this man to know the meaning behind just the slightest twitch in his face. After all, he had been doing all those maneuvers himself for so long.

The Advisers around Sera shifted, muttering among themselves upon hearing of what their leader did to his own son. Another unforeseen consequence, really. Why was the universe being good to Sera now?

"Your Highness," Adviser Ailun said with a stern voice. "I believe it's time to call it quits and admit the Inferno's win this time around. We don't know anything about him and his prints so that accounts to his advantage. I promise, next time, we will put uprooting their paltry effort at the top of our lists."

The Adviser's tone was chipped, edged. It carried enough threat in it, unsaid in between the lines. The Potentate appeared to read into those hidden meanings as well. Adviser Ailun seemed to be saying, If you continue this, you will lose more than your people's trust.

It meant that the Potentate would lose his own allies, his own confidantes. A ruler couldn't do it all on his own. He needed someone to depend on, someone who would follow his every whim. These allies could be found through mutual interest of serving the territory or they could be bought off. For the members of the Cabinet, Sera was willing to bet all his nalda wraps it was the latter.

And the Potentate knew it too. Sera noticed the slight slump in his father's shoulders and the weak sigh that blew from his father's lips. "What are the Inferno's demands?" he said, sinking back to his seat. Unlike the rigid, straight back he usually sported, he slouched in his throne now.

"A reform in our Law about our citizen's freedoms," Adviser Ailun said. "And releasing every prisoner we incurred in violating said law to be revised."

The Potentate massaged his temples with two fingers. "See to it, then," he said. "The faster these heathens get back to work, the better."

Sera felt like jumping up and shouting at the top of his lungs in triumph. He wanted to drop to his knees right then and there and start bawling. They had done it. They had freed a lot of their people. They were free to speak now.

Unbelievable. To think that Sera and a ragged bunch of writers and a mechanic from all places were able to do it. Neylan. He was about to see his friend really soon. After the reform, it would be a matter of days before Neylan was back in his merchant father's embrace.

Sera couldn't wait to rub it in Neylan's face when he saw his friend again. He got Neylan out. He fulfilled his promise.

For the first time in Seravel Rovodia's life, he had done something worth mentioning.

When the meeting had adjourned and Sera was sent back to his room, he didn't hesitate to climb up his window and jump out of it. The wind tore his hair off his forehead in wild bursts as the pull of the earth took hold of his weight. He extended his arms and summoned his magic, the rysteme spell tearing out of his lips. Air shifted and bustled towards him, cushioning his fall.

He blew an amused breath, staring up at the height he had just fallen past. He should have done that the first time he thought about it. Considering the tons of nerve-wracking experiences Sera had lived through over the past months, suddenly jumping out of the window from the second floor of the Palace didn't sound so scary anymore.

Keeping his wits about him, he tore through the courtyard and the roads leading to the press. WIth the Palace busy with mobilizing enough of its forces to act as escort for the prisoners being freed from Gaimouth, no one bothered to look for a lanky prince slipping through their ranks and going to the place where he found his real home.

Darmer opened the door to the shop and strong arms wrapped around Sera's shoulders. The mechanic's lively laugh almost made Sera's ears bleed but it's fine. They did it. A shriek blasted through the building's backdoor. Blazes' dark head dashed from the stairs and joined the cacophony. They did it.

"Oh gods, I can't believe it!" Flamma joined the fray, waving his ink-stained hands. "Where's Bonfire? Bonfire, get in here!"

Soon, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and laughs, Sera's own floating dominantly over the others. This was it. They had started something that could change Lanbridhr, even just bit by bit. Even if there were some aspects of their plans that didn't work, there were still a lot that went to their favor.

This. This was something Sera wanted to do with his life. Inspiring hope. Helping people. Changing the world for the better.

They tore apart and collapsed on the floor, each breathing heavily at the marvel of the magnitude of the thing they just succeeded in. Sera shot up and regarded his small team. One person might not be able to do it alone but maybe a team of five would be enough.

"Well, folks," Sera picked himself up and dusted his hands on his trousers. With all the time they spent printing in the darkness, they sure forgot to sweep the upper floor. Perhaps, he'd get to that soon. "How do you feel about changing the world?"

"I'm in!" Blazes raised a hand in the air, a huge grin plastered on her face. "This is fun!"

Darmer raised two fingers—the best he could possibly manage after being knocked to the floor with a bunch of energetic fairies. "Count me in," he winked.

Flamma and Bonfire—the two writers who met in the press and became the best of friends—exchanged glances before nodding at Sera. "We're in!"

Kindle, the quietest of the bunch who only spoke when spoken to, slowly edged her hand out. "Me too," she said in the smallest voice Sera had heard to come out of a fire sprite. It made her both cute and terrifying. He'd settle for the former. Kindle's a darling, really.

Sera grinned. "Well, then," he said. "Be prepared to get back to work."

Then, looking from his team seated on the floor to the wide horizon of the oasis, the desert, and the territory of Lanbridhr lying outside the door, he braced his hands on his hips. "We're just getting started," he said.