Sepha Shalen scrutinised the tiny slip from Virion.

Her personal council chamber was housed in one of the highest forest spires in the city. Her balcony looked out across the mighty boughs and trunks as windows and lamps began to glow, like so many fireflies in the dusk. The scale of the trees made the goings-on below them seem diminutive and inconsequential. Sepha loved everything it said about her city.

On the other hand, she hated mail by pigeon, the minimal space on the parchment demanded minuscule writing, and even then it forced pragmatically curt prose. As such, the note read:

‘Two persons of intrigue. Entered by way of Len River Checkpoint with slain Mor’Orc scout party and their steeds. Connections to unknown powerful or wealthy group. One Wood Elf: Luren Kay (She seeks Luren family in Elgelica), One male human Fire mage servant. Likely boarding at Highland Cask. Ask about bow.’

Just what by the gods was she to do with this! Honestly, her brother could be incorrigible at times. She had actual business to handle in the council, and she wasted a whole day following up the last one of his little ‘tips’.

The running of Elgelica was mostly about numbers and words on pages. None of the romantic cloak and dagger dross the bards often sung about, while Brother Virion seemed infatuated with such insidious things. She supposed he did join the military for good reason then.

All the same, numbers and words were how she liked it, and some of the words she read did make her ears twitch in interest.

‘Luren’ hmm... they were a rather wealthy enclave a few decades back if I recall.

Elgelica had a few fire mages on retainer, but more would always be welcome. It would be folly to build a city out of a forest without proper means to control and repel a blaze. The noble ranks of Elgelican Firefenders—though mostly Water Mages—were revered professionals and a cornerstone institution in the Thousand Year City.

Moreover, why on earth did Brother think she would care about a bow? Obviously, she knew her way about one, all elves did, but she much preferred solving problems using pointy sticks with ink on them. The quill was mightier than the fletching and all that.

The joy of negotiating for the servant contract would have to come later. She did not have nearly enough information on the elf to make any wasteful moves.

Hopefully, the fools took the hint and lodged at the inn. Finding them otherwise was still trivial for Sepha’s informants, but at the very least being handily found was polite.