2407 Xavem 13, Daleth

Sera was coming to the court hall when he heard a loud crash and the Potentate's strained voice yelling inside.

"There's no way anyone will answer that!" his father was saying. Sera tucked his smile behind a clenched fist, disguising it as an oncoming cough. "You useless people tell the soldiers to stay on guard. Limit the number of people that can be seen in public. Flog all those who disobey. Watch the streets for anyone peddling illegal content. I want these clerets gone!"

Sera choked at the last sentence, his saliva going back the wrong way. He might be running late to this particular council meeting about passing an edict about the ban of oshella sticks in public, but he was glad he was. It looked like the poor Advisers of the Cabinet spent the first few minutes of the assembly listening to the Potentate throw a tantrum.

Darmer had been right. Since Blazes had joined the team, the mechanic had realized they needed more writers for their content to not rely solely on Sera. "It's like building our own print media company," he told Sera yesterday. "Imagine the Daily Torch, but this one, it'll be commissioned by the people. What do you say?"

Sera had endless amounts of reasoning against that idea but Blazes had popped up from behind the printing machine and exclaimed, "That's a good idea!" Her voice might have been heard to a sprite with similar ears as hers. "I would love to go head to head with the Daily Torch. Seriously, those insects can suck it."

Sera winced at the vulgar language she and Darmer use. A little bit more time and he would be cussing like them. That's going to be one of the things he had to hide while being in the palace. Still, it wasn't like he could put a stop to Darmer's idea now that Blazes was in on it. Perhaps, Darmer had brought another person in as a tie-breaker and someone who rode with all his antics. Maybe. Maybe not.

So, without having much of a choice, they dedicated today's print in presenting a puzzle that contained a clue where to send their entries to provide Sera and the others an example of how they write. Sera had feared the soldiers would raid the drop-off place or even stalk the place for people who appeared to be dropping something. Darmer had played it off, saying, "Bet ya fifty grena those fools in the Palace wouldn't get it."

As Sera ducked inside the meeting hall, he noticed a couple of Advisers hunched over a copy of the print, scratching their heads. For people who could find any loophole in the Law for their own favor, they sure couldn't solve themselves a pair of riddles. Other advisers were prancing about, muttering to themselves the lines of the riddles.

The Fire Potentate, himself, sat in a rigid stance on his seat, eyes scanning the ongoing chatter fest. He didn't look happy. The lines on his face etched deeper, his fists squeezed the armrests like he was determined to tear them off. Sera dropped into his usual seat and made a show of looking around like he didn't know what was going on. After a while, he laid the stack of ethics and law copies he had procured from the inventory. It would be his job to take notes and finalize the changes in the law in this meeting.

Soon, the Advisers flitted back to their seats, faces glum and shoulders slumped, after having been stumped by the riddles. Sera relished on the triumphant feeling ebbing in his veins. It didn't come by that often and there's always the danger of being careless and ruining everything sitting idly at the back of his mind.

Sera couldn't get too cocky now.

These people would be on the heavier lookout, their senses flitting through the city for any sign of rebellion brewing underneath their noses. When a person's security or life is threatened, they become desperate. And when people become desperate...

No secrets would ever stay buried.

It wasn't like Sera was hoping for it to drag that long, though. He just needed to force the Potentate's hand into changing the edict about the freedom of speech in Lanbridhr. That, and to stop the spying through the special vests.

The meeting went by as Sera would have predicted it. The Advisers and the Potentate revised some laws that would be sure to line the government's pockets with more profit. It would have been fine with Sera, as long as they're reaping funds to improve Lanbridhr, but they're not. Sera had to listen to hours of Advisers joking to each other about which property they were buying or which delicacy or product from other territories they were bound to try to acquire next. All of them talked about like they have the versallis to afford it.

It disgusted Sera to no end so imagine his relief when the Fire Potentate called the meeting off and told Sera to finalize their topics for the day. Sera ought to include all mentions of the dirty politics and scheming things the Advisers said but he'd lose his head if he did that. So, with clenched jaw and trembling hands, he crossed out each and every line in the copy of the law, noting in the margins how the Cabinet and the Potentate wanted it changed.

A tool for tyranny, after all, has no will to do anything on its own.

That's what Sera was thinking when he snuck out of the Palace to meet with Darmer and Blazes outside the Palace. The warm nights in Calca were somehow growing in on him and he didn't find sand that much of a bother. The oasis felt familiar to him now. It was home to him more than the Palace was. At least out here, he was able to raise his head to the sky and ogle at the mess of stars and the bright rays of the moons. At least out here, he was able to breathe without feeling like he was about to be imprisoned from doing so.

Out here, he didn't need to be the person destined to continue the Rovodia dynasty, one that was marred with oppression and control. Out here, he was just Sera, a boy with too big of an ambition and a friend to save.

When Sera had dropped by the printing room, his eyes bulged in his face as he regarded the scene before him. Thousands of parchment roughly the same size of their prints littered the floor. It almost reached Darmer and Blazes' ankles.

Sera didn't even dare step off the stairs' last rung and just regarded the mess, mum. "Wha—"

"Oh, Inferno, you're here," Blazes said, her arms full with the pile of parchment she cleared from the nearby table. "Could you help us sort through these?"

Sera snapped to attention. "Are these...the entries?" he asked.

"You bet," Darmer grunted as he picked himself off the floor. The spot where he used to be was the only remaining blotch that still showed the original color of the stone floor. He trudged to where Sera was and passed him a few sheets. "Have a look at those. I feel like they're promising, at least from what I looked at so far."

Sera bobbed his head. A spark caught his attention. He turned to find Blazes wrinkling her nose at the entry she just read. "That's just horrible," she said, giving Sera a slight shrug. "We burn the entries we have no intention of going back to."

Without replying, Sera sank to the steps and laid the sheets Darmer had initially passed him. All of them looked good , presenting writing that was readable enough. But if he were to look which one of them had enough of a well to stay writing their thoughts for the next few months, none of them made the cut. How did he know? They talked about a singular issue—one the riddles referred to as part of the clues they needed to crack.

Blazes cursed from behind him. He turned once more to see her shuffling through her current batch, muttering underneath her breath. "This one didn't even follow the topic!" she hissed. "And this one...gods of Calaris, how does one live knowing they write like this? Ugh!"

The process had been simple. Blazes and Darmer would sort through the pile for something that'd catch their attention and one they thought would be good enough. Then, Sera would do the final inspection as well as the decision to burn or keep the entries given to him.

Soon—rather, a whole four hours of sorting—, Sera had narrowed the thousands upon thousands of entries to a select five. With the floor cleaned of beige and off-white sheets and a fine layer of ash replacing them, Blazes and Darmer could finally move around. Both of them stalked to the stairs where Sera was perched.

"How was this possible?" Sera wondered aloud. "How could so many of them attempt to write to us?"

Darmer rolled his eyes. "Was that the kind of thing you're losing hairs on?" he said. "Come on, if it's the people involved, there's a strong force acting with them. Don't underestimate it."

"Besides," Blazes said, slotting her face in between the rails lining the lower half of the stairs. "These people have been given hope that maybe they could spark change by speaking out. You gave them that."

Heat rushed to Sera's face at the validation. He still felt like everything he was doing was somehow going to get them killed—and here they were bringing more people in—but for once, he asked himself, what if it worked?

What if it worked? What then?

Sera turned his attention back to the five entries he had been poring over. Grabbing the entries from both extremes, he called his magic and set them ablaze. The remnants fluttered by his head, some ashes even settling on his scalp. The air was musty and thick but Sera had learned to appreciate the smell of burning parchment, spilled ink, and combusting oil over the weeks.

The last three entries stared back at him. He flicked his gaze towards the bottom parts, where the authors' pen names were written in plain, black ink. Kindle. Bonfire. Flamma. A small laugh ripped off Sera. Why did they all follow the Inferno's fire-themed pen name? It's hilarious.

"Get ready for the next prints," he turned to his team, gathered the last three entries, and gave it to them. "It's time to welcome our new members."

He flashed a knowing look at Darmer who gave him a thumbs-up gesture. Blazes snatched the entries and headed to the molds where she began arranging the letters. It seemed like she had taken to using the printing machine more than Sera or Darmer.

"What do you say, friend?" Sera tapped his friend's shoulder as he straightened. "Shall we use the Potentate's methods against him?"

Darmer's smile was enough for Sera to feel relieved they were on the same side.