An Important Piece of Paper

In the early morning as the Territories of Ardiea sleep, two men meet in secret

- Chapter One -
An Important Piece of Paper

The street, striped in a mixture of darkness and lamp light, had an eerie stillness that can only come at the dead of night. Houses stood hunched together on either side of the cobbled road with nothing to tell them apart bar a coloured door, pair of curtains, or other seemingly meaningless personal object. A dense, cold fog had descended upon the street many hours ago, choking the houses within its bitter, gritty swirls of smog from the nearby factories, obscuring everything in the distance to a chilling darkness, forcing every surface into the same murky yellow � grey. It was obvious that no plant or tree had seen this place for centuries. It was as cold and unforgiving as the night that wafted through it. From somewhere in the distance, the sound of a tolling bell penetrated the stillness and announced that it was coming close to dawn.

From a patch of foggy darkness at one end of the street, a man slowly emerged, marching quickly through his dark and dismal surroundings, a billowing cloak leaving swirls of fog in his wake. The man, who walked from shadow to shadow, somehow missing the lamp light that shone through the fog as solid beams, was short and stocky, almost as short as a child but with the width of a fully grown man. Tiny balls of golden light, the man�s spirits, flitted around him, searching out the darkest falls of shadow, skipping from cold corner to cold corner. He had an air of nervous secrecy about him, as if the very sounds of his feet on the damp cobblestones would betray him. The whole of Trian City seemed to be asleep, the only things that broke apart the nighttime peace were the shrill calls of dangerous birds on the hunt, the tolling bell and the final swirl of fog at the end of the road as the man passed quickly round the corner.

He took a left, then a right, ducked down an overgrown ally between two boarded up houses and came out onto another street. The mans head swivelled inside his cloak, checking both directions down the street through the oppressive fog before creeping across the cobbles to the houses on the other side and slid into the darkness outside one of them. The mans rasping breath could be heard from either end of the faceless street as it tried to pull the last vestiges of goodness from the smog, so intent on being the death of the air it smothered. The stocky man looked left and right as if checking, expecting there to be someone watching, then knocked. He stood at the door for almost a whole minute before the door slowly swung open in front of him, bathing the street behind in an almost blinding light. The sound of a man�s voice came from inside the house. The voice sounded smooth and self-important and as if it had known nothing but calmness and fake sincerity all its life, despite the obvious coldness of the words it spoke.

�You�re late, I told you to be here when the council chamber bell rang for the dawn hour.�

The man behind the voice must have stood aside, as the short man outside the door bowed his head, wiped his feet and disappeared inside the house, the door snapping shut behind him, leaving the street undisturbed and silent once again.

A strong smell of pipe smoke covered the living room of the house, which was lavish beyond anything the general population of Trian city could hope to afford. A large fire crackled and spat in the great, casting a warm glow over the many armchairs, paintings and bottles of expensive wines from every Territory. A desk stood in the far corner, meticulously organised and once again showing signs of extreme wealth and social standing with its deliberately placed bottles of rare drinks and letters from famous names and powers.

The short man took off his travelling cloak and hung it up on a stand next to the door. The man attached to the voice had already resumed his place on an armchair facing the fire and away from the doorway. Fresh plumes of pipe smoke rose slowly from somewhere out of sight. The short mans spirits seemed to be cowering away from the heat of the fire, hiding in shadow, just as they had done in the bitter streets outside.

�Sorry I�m late, didn�t want to be seen you see.�

�What was that?� said the voice in a calm, powerful tone. The short man recoiled so fast it was as if he was just received the most violent reprimand of his life.

�I�m�I�m sorry sir!� He blustered. �I mean, I�m sorry I�m late Mr ...�

�That�s perfectly alright my man,� said the voice, cutting across his guest without thought, �I had barely noticed the time, and it was only the sound of the bell that alerted me to your absence, still, we must try harder to be punctual mustn�t we?� The voice was slow and meticulous, as if every word was chosen with the utmost of care, as if it covered a thousand lies.

�Yes sir.� Even from behind the chair, the short man could sense the smug, satisfied smile that now played across his hosts face. �If you don�t mind me asking sir, why do you live in this part of the city? Surely a man of your standing could afford somewhere, err, a little closer to work?�

With one final puff, the man that belonged to that sickly calm voice stood up and turned to face his guest. He was tall and thin, with short, meticulously cared for black hair, a short moustache and a clean-shaven chin. He wore a dark red robe, tied around the waist by a red and gold band of cloth. The collar of the robe was drawn high around his neck as if he were attempting to fight off a bitter cold. He held his pipe in his right hand and folded newspaper in his left. The power that emanated from him was more obvious than the heat from the fire. In contrast to his guest, this man�s spirits seem to fill the room, slowly moving from one man to the other, as if caught on a purposeful breeze. Almost without the short man noticing, the spirits wondered around the room, getting between their guest and the door, window and fireplace. One even wafted over towards the desk and the expensive wines.

�I find that living here makes me seem more in touch with the people, and we both know how important it is to be seen as a friend to the common man, especially these days.� He flashed a knowing grin in the direction of his guest; however, the sort man was looking down at the paper and missed it.

�Arh yes, I was just taking a look over tomorrow�s newspaper before you arrived, do forgive me for making you wait out in the cold.�

�Tomorrow�s newspaper?�

�Yes Marsden, tomorrow�s. I do like to know the news before the rest of the population and it does help to have a dear friend working as the general editor now, doesn�t it?� He let off a single, calculated laugh and waved his hand as if to shrug off the embarrassment of being so well connected.

�However, we have important business to attend to and, thankfully, tomorrow�s news has very little to do with it.�

Marsden, still looking down at the paper, shook his head slightly, as if pulling himself out of some sort of trance.
�Yes, yes. What is it you have asked me here to do sir?�

�To do? To do Marsden?� said the tall man with a frown. �I have asked you hear as a trusted friend and advisor to help me with a little situation that has arisen.� Marsden seemed to perk up at these words.

�Do you really consider me a friend sir?�

�Of course I do my dear Marsden,� he said dismissively, waving his hand again, �now listen. As you know, as a member of the high council of Tomarr and minister in charge of the armed forces and council records I am privy to some rather sensitive information.� He paused for a second, considering Marsden with the smallest hint of a frown, then made his way over to the desk.

�It has long been my belief that this government hasn�t done enough to increase this Territories standing on the global stage. You may also know that I have on a number of occasions run for head of the high council, for the presidency, only to be denied on each occasion by another who, in hindsight, has proven unworthy of the post.� Marsden nodded and took another step closer to the desk. �Well it would seem my dear Marsden, oh, wine Marsden?�

He picked up a bottle from behind the expensive wines on the table and offered it to Marsden, the label pointing towards the wall.

�No thank you sir. Please continue.�

�Yes, where was I? Oh, yes!� He said with an extravagant gesture, pouring some wine into a glass. �It would seem that an opportunity has arisen of which I may be able to take full advantage.�

�Full advantage? What do you mean?�

�Now now Marsden let me finish. Yes. This particular bit of information could be very beneficial. Are you sure I can�t tempt you?�

�Its very kind sir, but I must decline.�

�Oh well, suit yourself.� Said the red-robed man, waving his hand for the third time and draining the glass himself. �Yes, very beneficial, not only to me, but to the whole Territory. However it isn�t going to do much good stuck in my hands.�

�No sir.� Said Marsden blindly.

�Good man, glad to see you are keeping up. The trouble is, the whole thing will go to pot if the information can be traced back to me. Do you understand?�

�Errrm�� there was a pause, �Not really, sir, no.�

Placing the empty glass down, he opened one of the draws in his desk and pulled out a small piece of paper.

�Marsden I need you to do something for me. I need you to get this piece of paper, or at least,� he chuckled �what is written upon it, to someone within the Entarian high chambers.�

�Entarian, sir?�

�Yes, Marsden, yes,� he said, �our neighbouring Territory, Entar.� He passed the paper over to Marsden who was looking sceptically at it. �You may read it if you wish, I�m sure you will agree it is of great importance.�

Marsden stared down at the paper now clutched in his moistening hands. It crumpled slightly as he opened it. His eyes widened slightly as they shot back and forth across the words written upon his new charge. He looked up at the desk again.

�But�� His host had disappeared, and pipe-smoke was once again climbing its way up from the armchair by the fire.

�Now you will remember, under no circumstances can it be traced back to me, is that understood?�

�Yes sir.�

�Talk to Mr Towlsen down at River Docks, he will be able to help you out. Oh, and one last thing.� The man gestured over the back of the chair for Marsden to come closer. As the portly man drew closer he could see the glow from his hosts pipe shining a bright red in the blackness of the mans eyes. �As I said, you are a trusted friend and advisor, and I would hate to be let down by a trusted friend and advisor. Do we understand each other?�

Marsden gulped slightly. �Yes sir.�

�Excellent!� He exclaimed, turning once again to face the fire. �Now, will you be staying a while or are you off right away?�

Five minutes later the door to the unremarkable house opened once more and a short, stubby man rushed from its light and warmth, out into the bitter cold, foggy night outside. After the door closed once more, the man shot a quick glance in both directions and disappeared back down ally way from whence he came.

Author's Note

An old story set in my world, a story i might look into carrying on