Chapter 306: The Special Envoy

The Special Envoy of the Royal Family set foot in Lyra city on a morning early in the month, exactly four days earlier than the day the City Hall had predicted.

His delegation included eight escorting knights, two secretaries, and three pack horses fully loaded with chests of ledgers. There were no noisy trumpets, no deafening drums, also no flags obscuring the sky as the aristocratic crowd often made a show of every time going down to the provinces. There was only exactly one small flag embroidered with the Royal seal planted at the saddle of the leading person.

The whole delegation traveled up from the South direction, therefore the first place they faced was exactly the checkpoint located on the stream-side strip of land.

The recruit boy guarding the post that day saw the Royal flag and trembled violently all over, but still tried to follow exactly the textbook method having learned running out blocking the horses’ heads. He reached out raising the barrier pole only halfway then stopped.

"Greetings to you Sirs. Please Sirs kindly open the chests for us to inspect."

All eight escorting knights simultaneously snapped their heads over glaring at him. One guy frowned shouting loudly: "Kid, are you blind not seeing the seal on that flag huh?"

"Yes Sir I do see it." The recruit boy tried stiffening his neck answering back: "But on the board over there it is clearly written that the Covenant binds all living beings passing through Lyra land, excluding no one. I am doing my duty not daring to arbitrarily exclude anyone at all."

The knight was so angry his face turned purple, just intending to spur his horse rushing forward when the man sitting on the second horse carriage slowly raised his hand signaling him to back down.

That was a man approximately forty-five years old, his body as dry as a stick of firewood, his skin sun-tanned, draped on his body a faded brown cloak no different from the coat of the petty clerk crowd. He had a pair of eyes sunken deep because of lacking sleep and a look that anyone accidentally being looked into also had the feeling they had just been counted by him from head to toe.

"Open up for them to inspect." He calmly said.

And so the Royal Special Envoy was honored to become the first guest in the history of this checkpoint to personally open his luggage chests for a seventeen-year-old kid to rummage through.

While the recruit boy clumsily flipped through several document stacks, Ambrose clasped his hands behind his back standing outside, casting his eyes reading really carefully the wooden board erected beside the watchtower. He read carefully from the first line to the final line, including the decision merging the land strip having the Mayor’s signature and the City Hall’s red stamp.

Finishing reading, he turned asking the accompanying secretary: "Have you recorded it down yet?"

"Yes I recorded fully already."

"Record adding one more line in. The checkpoint resolutely inspects even people carrying the Royal seal."

Elric receiving the report his soul flew up to the clouds, hurriedly ran walking all the way out to the South gate to welcome, sweat soaking wet a whole patch of his shirt back. He had carefully prepared ready a welcoming schedule three paper pages thick, such as arranging resting at the luxury guesthouse, such as a lavish welcoming banquet, such as leading to see several most beautiful architectural constructions in the city.

Ambrose dismounted his horse, stood listening to him presenting completely those three paper pages, then decisively shook his head.

"Lord Mayor, I ask permission not to follow this schedule." He said, his voice dry without any emotion: "I have exactly ten days’ time here. I will personally choose places to see, choosing to wherever then going to there. You only need to dispatch a guide and open doors for me and that is enough."

Elric was tongue-tied, ultimately had to awkwardly fold the schedule back stuffing it into his shirt pocket.

The first day, Ambrose chose walking.

He said wanting to walk then only can clearly see the road surface, so the whole entourage along with the Mayor had to clatter walking following him throughout from the South gate all the way into the central square. Along the way, he stopped three times. The first time to attentively look at the drainage ditch on both road sides. The second time to ask inquiringly a peddler woman seeing every month how much spot money she paid and paid to whom. The third time he turned ducking entirely into a pitch-black small alley, a place that Elric had never thought there would be a day he had to personally lead a noble Special Envoy into.

"What are you searching for in there?" Elric miserably asked.

"I am searching seeing what you all hide in the alleys." Ambrose answered, his eyes still continuously looking around: "Every province is like that, sweeping the street face cleanly then shoving all the trash into hidden alleys. Here even in the alleys drainage ditches are built properly. Record it down."

The second day, he demanded to go seeing the school, and even chose exactly the hour that absolutely no one expected.

He arrived when the class was studying halfway through the session. Standing outside the window looking in, he saw in one class there were over thirty children sitting crowding each other on several long bench rows. A pointy-eared Elven child sat right close beside a Human clan child, the two intimately put their heads together sharing copying from one stone slate.

In the class corner there was a mat spread on the floor, three four tiny babies were crawling scrambling, every single kid was carefully worn a wooden tag writing numbers on their wrist so that later finishing class avoiding returning to the wrong older sister.

Ambrose asked the teacher: "This class collects how much tuition fee from students?"

"Well we do not collect a single coin." The teacher answered: "Children in the city from six to twelve years old are all mandatorily required to go to school, not having to pay a single coin. Any household not letting their children go to school then will be fined."

"Then where does the money come from to pay your salary?"

"Well taken from the City Hall’s treasury. My salary every month is eighteen silver coins, clearly recorded in the ledger, you wanting to see then please go up to the Accounting division."

That night Ambrose again demanded to go seeing the evening supplementary class.

The evening class was much more crowded than he imagined. The people attending studying mostly were older people, there was a woman specializing doing the clothes washing profession, there were several porter uncles, there was even a snow-white bearded and haired old man diligently sitting at the front desk. Ambrose clasped his hands walking along the middle of the two desk rows, occasionally bending down looking into several stone slates.

At the second row there was a woman painstakingly writing back and forth one text line.

He looked down trying to read. That text line was only exactly two words, written scrawlingly but very clearly: Merrin Harris.

"Are you practicing writing your name?" He raised his voice asking.

Merrin looked up at him, because not recognizing this was some big figure so she also had nothing to fear. She answered curtly: "Yes. My name now is in the land ledger, but I cannot personally read it yet. I write back and forth to get my hand used to it."

Ambrose nodded, stepping continuing walking, not asking another sentence more. But when arriving out to the door, he turned back instructing the secretary recording adding one line, that in this city land is recorded naming women, and that woman is diligently practicing writing her name when the sky is already pitch dark.

The fourth day, he stepped into the Accounting room.

This was exactly the place where he spent the most time. Ambrose sat stubbornly inside the ink-stinking room throughout from early morning until late afternoon, forcing people to bring out completely the collection ledgers, expenditure ledgers, salary ledgers, material ledgers. He had a habit of scrutinizing flipping backward from the final page up, because according to experience going inspecting the three Eastern provinces people very often beautified the first few pages to bypass eyes.

Sitting entertaining him throughout that entire day was Brian.

The boy pulled a high chair, sitting cross-legged beside, the Special Envoy asked whatever then he answered that, not stumbling over a single sentence at all. Ambrose tried pointing his finger at an expenditure item buying copper wire, cross-examining asking why this month bought three times as much as last month. Brian immediately flipped to another ledger book, pointing his finger at the line recording pulling speaker wire returning to three new reclamation groups, accompanied by the receipt paper having properly marked fingerprints of the goods receiver.

Arriving at late afternoon, Ambrose finally pointed his finger at a number column, his voice already clearly revealing tiredness: "This spot calculated added wrongly."

Brian held the ledger pulling it closer, bent down looking attentively for a moment, then looked up answering deadpan: "Sir, you added missing the final line of the previous page. This page is the continuing page, the total number carried over is four hundred and twelve and not three hundred and ninety."

Ambrose froze. He hurriedly flipped backward to the previous page, mentally recalculating one more time.

Then he dropped the ledger down onto the tabletop, leaning back on the chair. The first time throughout four days in Lyra, on his lips bloomed out something almost like a smile.

"How old are you this year?"

"Yes Sir, I am twelve years old."

"Who was the person teaching you to do ledgers like this?"

Brian pondered for a moment then honestly answered: "Initially it was Father teaching me how to count. After that then I self-studied. I managed to borrow several old ledgers of the large merchants returning to read researching further."

Ambrose looked at the boy for another long while, then turned telling the secretary, his voice again dry as before: "Secretary, record this line. The person holding the entire financial ledgers of a whole city is a twelve-year-old child, and he calculates without being wrong a single coin at all."

The seventh day, he expressed the intention asking to sit observing a court session.

That day Lyra Court opened judging a very trivial lawsuit case, two neighbor families on Dyer street disputing each other over a fence wall. The presiding judge of the court session was Mr. Hollis, on the defendant side there was a defender appointed by the Court, doing exactly according to regulations.

Ambrose sat silently in the very last pew row, listening from beginning to end. The lawsuit case lasted more than two hours, only because of the fence wall having a length of barely four and a half meters.

Exiting the courtroom, he frowned asking Elric: "A fence wall four and a half meters yet you all expend effort judging losing those two hours?"

"Special Envoy, we judge any case also carefully like that." Elric respectfully answered.

"Doing that is too costly."

"Yes, truly costly indeed." Elric scratched his head: "But Lord Holy Son said a sentence that I keep remembering forever. He said that the citizens do not believe in the court through several large cases you know, they believe in justice through the way the court resolves several quarreling cases because of a fence wall you see."

Ambrose did not answer back. But that night, his secretary had to record adding one more line into the notebook again.

The ninth day, he went out to the East town.

He went inspecting the brick drying yard, inspecting several mud wall house rows newly roofed, inspecting the land ledger recording desk. Town head Hodge hearing news having the Royal Special Envoy personally coming down was scared to the point the night before unable to sleep, morning out hurriedly wore mistakenly his shirt.

Yet when leading going inspecting, he actually fluently read the number of households of every single group, the number of returned tents, the number of finished poured bricks, even fluently reading entirely the list of several households still owing money borrowing farming tools.

Ambrose looked at him asking: "Previously what profession did you do?"

"Yes Sir, previously I worked as a petty clerk at the City Hall."

"A petty clerk specializing sitting at the desk granting licenses huh?"

Hodge was stunned dead frozen, his face turning pale without a drop of blood, stammering forever finally daring to nod admitting.

Ambrose stared straight at him for another while, then smirked stepping continuing walking, not speaking another sentence more. Only until the end of the session, when having already climbed onto the horse carriage preparing to turn returning to the city, did he finally turn telling the secretary recording adding one line, that the town head here memorized his ledgers by heart.

Arriving at the tenth day, meaning the final day, Ambrose officially asked to privately meet the Holy Son.

The meeting took place in the small meeting room, only having three people: Kaelen, Sane and him. On the table completely not displaying any tea or pastries at all, only having exactly one thick notebook stack of the two secretaries.

Ambrose pulled a chair sitting down, placing his hand onto the notebook stack, opening the beginning with a sentence completely not carrying any bit of politeness:

"Holy Son, I was dispatched down here carrying along the hope of very many people in the Royal Capital that I would find a heresy den or some spectacular scam trick. I must speak truthfully with you, I completely did not find it."

Kaelen nodded lightly: "Then I should be glad right?"

"Not at all." Ambrose shook his head, his deep sunken eyes staring straight into his face: "You should worry. If I found a heresy den, I would write a report sending back that Lyra is a messy incident needing to bring troops going to suppress. And suppressing a messy incident costs soldiers, costs money, no one wants to get involved doing it, ultimately people will ignore leaving you all in peace to operate for a few more years."

He tapped lightly onto the notebook stack.

"But the thing I mandatorily must write bringing back is actually the truth. That Lyra city has a drainage system going all the way deep into small alleys, has schools teaching children without collecting money, has a court ready to resolve even trivial fence wall cases, has a ledger system without being wrong a single dime coin, and has a budget revenue amount every year that according to my preliminary calculation is even larger than the three Eastern provinces combined."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"Holy Son." Ambrose continued speaking, his voice still dry sharp: "People do not swallow a city whole because it worships monsters. People swallow it whole because it is too lucrative."