The Inquisitory: When Pie is Not Enough

[Tolleson]

Over five days the Inquisitory was silent. All the town had their loved ones to tend to, of the diligent minds employed, half had been tampered with and a good number, from both sides had simply disappeared or worse. Whether they saw the change as good or not, much of the town held it’s breath; a quiet gasp in shock, a frightened pause as a void replaced the normalcy of Rhaena’s Myrken or the unrest that had swelled to stop her.

Everything had stopped, the town gaped, confused, uncertain, different and somehow the same. Demands from the interim governor, Treadwell and droves at the Meeting House only served to make Genny more resolute. But in truth, she had been driven to the point long ago. Necessity had kept her out, interrogating, following, helping Ariane, trying to find the absent governor. But then, then there was that hour, a day, then four, and she woke to the abandoned place and Gloria’s gentle urging.

And then, necessity would keep her in and the Inquisitory was no longer empty. Sleep had come and it had lingered so long that now she yearned for it no more. By morning several letters had been penned, the missives sent at the earliest hour, delivered to the bedside of those who had in their employ someone to do so and with an abrasive knock to their door, if they did not.

Dear Inquisitor, Lady Gloria Wynsee,

If you are still interested in assisting the Inquisitory, please report at your earliest convenience. If not, I ask that you still come, sit a while, let me offer my thanks and pray that you might tell me why and how you happened upon me. Perhaps, what you know of our Governor Glenn Burnie and that which you can remember prior.

Gods be good to you,
Genevieve

Dear Sir Elliot Gahald-Brown,

We spoke, briefly, some time ago. You may not remember me. I am worried for your safety and about your well-being, as I imagine you must be confused about a great deal. If you are somewhere safe, remain. If you need sanctuary, please come to the Inquisitory and I will do my best to assist.

Gods be good to you,
Genny

Dear Marshall, Lady Ariane Emory,

I wish for you a speedy recovery from the injuries I have heard that you have suffered. When you are well again, come to the Inquisitory, let us talk. With mouths and words aloud, lest you worry I have any intention of breaking a promise.

Gods be good to you,
Genevieve

Dear Councilwoman, Lady Agnieszka Kaczmarek-River,

I wish for you a speedy recovery from the injuries I have heard that you have suffered. When you are well again, come to the Inquisitory. I merely wish to talk as it has been sometime since I last saw you and some time since I have last heard from Aleksei.

Gods be good to you,
Genevieve

For the last note she actually would send a pie, pumpkin. And considering the sparse harvest, it had not been a cheaply made gift.

Dear Interm Governor Aloisius Treadwell,

Please be advised, I plan to re-open the Inquisitory at its normal hour. I believe this is what Govenor Burnie would want, I intend to find him and resolve the matter of the Lady Olwak’s death. If this is agreeable and you find the purpose within Myrkentown’s interest I would ask that it remains funded and I will find the staff to assist the people of Myrken in resolving issues arisen from The Hour Lost.

Gods be good to you,
Genevieve

Post Script – I advise against the inclusion of the Councilor Berdini in future matters. Let us speak in person if you wish for elaboration.

Through the night she worked, sweeping the floor, cleaning out the desks of the departed, organizing the scattered volumes, and finding some order in the madness that had become the Inquisitory in both Glenn and Giuseppe’s absence.

The last is the office. Her teacup is righted, the spilled contents wiped up and nothing else is touched. For a moment she paused, her eyes focused on the space, as if she might see history playing out before her; while fingers traced the grain, running over the High Inquisitor’s desk. She will not linger, she must not. Reflecting on her mistakes, both these men still lost and the undeniable guilt that nagged so incessantly. It’s your fault. If only you had been smarter. If only you had been faster. If only you had been more diligent. If only…

No. Not today. The chair is pushed in the already clean desk is wiped briskly, brushing away the phantom fears.

The interior door to the office is locked. A deep breath is taken, reverence for the man, for the men and for all that had been lost. A breath is held to dig up the courage to move forward, to continue on. And a breath is released as the key is pocketed and she turns to face the windows bathing in pre-dawn light, hues of lavender and coral. The front doors are then unlocked, opened wide and she stands with crossed arms, letting the cool autumn breeze take the dust from her black dress, whip around her as she welcomes the day. Giuseppe gone, Aleksei gone, Agnie in the infirmary. This was still Glenn Burnie’s Myrken and each day would continue, every breath one after the other. There were pressing matters, like finding Glenn, learning the truth of Rhaena’s death, and solving all that had happened in the missing hour. Matters that cared little if this was the Inquistory of Glenn, Giuseppe or Genny.

[Treadwell]

Treadwell is found at the Meetinghouse this morning, resembling much the pumpkin himself in an orange suit and hat, barring the brown suspender straps working so hard to keep his trousers in place. As is usual as of late, he is in his Councilor's office, mainly due to convenience and comfort (not to mention respect for the still-missing Glenn Burnie).

The pie is gleefully noted with rumbling of tummy and patting of hand to said roaring middle. This would certainly be a most beloved treat for the next hour!

And then, a quick reading of the accompanying note.

A sudden, uncontrolled hoo-hah of belly-quivering laughter.

Gods be good to you? Oh, of course they must, dear Genny! The Glutton will have what He will!

A very hastily scrawled note is written in reply and sent out by a youth runner.

= = = = =

Inquisitor,

I thank you quite happily for the dessert. I will likely have made very short work of it by the time you read this message.

Do continue your efforts. We still have enough to fund all that Myrken needs for the moment despite the government's generous assistance to its people. I may be found here at the Meetinghouse, in my Councilor's office, if I am needed. The toy shop will be closed for the time being, at least until we can hold some semblance of order again in this town.

Acting Governor Aloisius H. Treadwell

= = = = = =

[channe]

A letter arrives from the Rememdium soon after:

Ms. Tolleson,

I am going to be in the Hospital for some time. I was apparently Trounced quite soundly (during the Lost Hour, can't remember how) and am dealing with some Terrible Wounds (to my pride too.) I have not heard from Aleksei since I left Thessilayn and I am getting very Nervous as he should have written me by now. Maybe if you can Look into it maybe send a Messenger to Thessilayn. I do not believe that he would be in Trouble because Burel was nothing but a Gentleman, but Appearances are Appearances and maybe not Truth (as we have all been thinking about Recentlee.)

I am sorry that I was weak, I thought I could defend myself, I thought Rhaena would never go back on her promise. But I think Rhaena died a long time ago in Razasan and the Thing that was with us these past few years was not actually her. But this will remain a Theory now as the only way of proving it is Dead. Nevertheless we Must find out who killed her and I expect the Inquisitory is doing this investigashun right now?

Either way it is Scary to think about, if she was already dead. There are Many things in Razasan that can make that happen and I only know of two.

Watch Treadwell. He appointed Himself Acting Governor and answers to No One even though he has the purest ideas (to help Myrken Wood). I know for a Fact that he wants the Governorship for Himself. He is a Greedy Sot of course, but I am sure you know how exactly that kind of thing can be controlled for the purposes of Myrken Wood. I also know how it can be co opted. So we need to make sure he is on Our Side.

Thank you for your thoughts,
Agnieszka

[Carnath-Emory]

To: Inquiisitor Tulson

My thanks, what I lack is not health but time, we would do better if each day had thirty hours for you and I and the usal for every one else. I cannot yet visit but here is a thing which is useful to know: how goes it with the Inquiisitory, are you stable and with numbers enough left to you to properly function. I haf many concerns today of which the secondmost is supp inferastri bedrock. Without reliable structor Myrken falls to itself.

I do not doubt your promises. Do not doubt mine: there is no 'Lady' to my name.

Marshall Emory
Myrken Defense Committee

[Rance]

Dear Genvi Genevie Genny,

By the time I could respell your name the right way you had righten it I had already got blood on the letter from my finger, no one has ever debated for that I am not a boor, yes?

I am not feeling well, I have got a hotness under my skin in and in my forehead and my head hurts very much, the infimary has said Gloria, they have said, the way in which your finger was severed was very unclean and speaks of bad violence, we have put in stitches to close the edge but sometimes string is a foreign object that will cause a heat in your blood, and now I have got a heat in my blood that will take a few days and the herbs to go away.

At least the herbs make you feel as if you are surrounded in water at all times, it is like swimming in your head.

Also yes I do not remember much in that time when we were in the Golbon but I will help you as much as I can, I am not a very well-brained girl but I will be glad to assist, also you are very sweet to call me lady but I am not a lady I am much more like a maggot,

tomorrow or the next day we will talk to one another about Msa. Burnie and Msa. Calamill

your friend,
glour'eya wynsee