The four women startle—Awenela clutches at her chest; Faey and Enlynn look at each other in shock; ?nnywella runs her hand down her face, knowing this could have been avoided, but breathes a sigh of relief.

  Osmund swings the large door open, resting a hand on his sword. “Is everything alright? What was that?”

  ?nnywella leans over the balcony, looking at the startled Osmund. “Yes, Osmund, everything is fine; I just—”

  “OUT!” Floryana responds without turning from the desk, pointing at Osmund with a scalpel.

  Osmund looks to ?nnywella again for some sort of defense, only getting a pitiful pout in response. He leaves as quickly as he entered.

  ?nnywella makes her way back to the ground floor, and over to the desk. “So, what have you concluded?” she asks, hoping that this will be simple and Mar?l is the anonymous sender, as if he is not, she will have no way of knowing until the dinner.

  Floryana turns the scalpel over, beginning to tap the groups of cutout letters that lay scattered about the table with the handle. “I believe that these letters were written by the same person. I have gone through and cut out simple words like ‘the’, ‘and’, ‘to’, ‘of’, and ‘for’, as well as single characters like ‘g’, ‘y’, ‘j’, ‘f’, ‘t’, and ‘k’. If we compare the nuances of each character and the spacing between the characters in our sample words.” She moves the samples around, lining them up under words and characters on the anonymous letter. “You can see that they are extremely similar. So I would say with a high degree of confidence that these were written by the same person—Mar?l Humel.”

  “Well... this is fortuitous...” Says ?nnywella, both shocked and pleased that it was that simple. “I will be talking with Colaus about this later, figuring out the best course of action.”

  Faey leans over the balcony, looking down on Floryana from above. “Aren’t you an apothecary? where did you learn to do something like that?” Just the idea of being able to use someone’s handwriting to tell if two letters have the same author feels criminal to her, or at least dishonest.

  Floryana looks up at the young priestess. “My gr—my father taught me. When we get people coming to pick up or fill prescriptions, we check the prescriptions with examples of the handwriting of those who prescribed them—I have examples of the handwriting of every person qualified to give out prescriptions in the kingdom, as do most apothecaries. Occasionally, we will have people trying to use fraudulent prescriptions in order to get more of a certain medicine, or drug—most commonly, opiates. By comparing the fraudulent prescriptions with the examples of the individual who had allegedly written it, I am able to accurately deduce whether or not the individual who was claimed to have written the prescription was, in fact, the one who did write it.”

  “How often do you actually get fraudulent prescriptions?” Faey asks, her curiosity getting the better of her, but she hopes this will be a simple answer.

  “Never, as—”

  “My grandfather started having people who were caught attempting to use fake prescriptions executed—after an investigation first, of course; if it is determined that the drugs were for personal use, they were suspended from receiving them for three maidens; if it is determined that they were reselling the drugs, they were executed in the main agora of the commoners district. The amount of fake prescriptions being caught dropped to zero after about...” She pauses, trying to remember the exact number. “seventeen executions. People tend to like their heads more than their high.” She had originally interrupted Floryana to save them from another short lecture, only to give one of her own.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Won’t they just try to get the drugs in other ways? like smuggling them in?” Faey asks. “I feel like it would be easier to catch the people with the fake prescriptions than it would be to catch smugglers.”

  “The city guard has trained dogs at each entrance to the city, who are able to recognize the scent of illicit substances.” ?nnywella lights another cigarette and begins to pace around the room, always excited to have a debate like this.

  Floryana raises a finger, her glasses catching the light from the window beside her. “They also do cavi—”

  “She really doesn’t need to know that.” ?nnywella interrupts sharply.

  “Well, what do you do with the people who are smuggling them in?” Faey asks, even though she feels she already knows the answer.

  “Execute them as well.” ?nnywella responds curtly.

  “Even if it’s their first time?”

  “Dead criminals cannot re-offend, my sweet summer child.” ?nnywella chuckles.

  “Doesn’t this seem cruel to you?” Faey asks, offended by these newly discovered strict laws.

  ?nnywella turns and looks up at Faey, staring into her eyes. “Let’s posit: if—”

  “What does ‘posit’ mean?” interrupts Faey.

  ?nnywella’s eye twitches. “To assume as fact, or to be put forward as an argument.” She takes a drag before continuing. “If a single individual brings in enough drugs, for our purposes let’s say opiates, for ten people, we can assume—with the help of statistics—that four of those ten will purchase the drugs with money acquired illegally, most commonly through theft or prostitution. If we stop the access to drugs at the source and prevent the ability for one to re-offend, we will be positively affecting the lives of ten individuals and those who would be affected by the four who turn to crime to acquire the funds needed to fuel their addiction.” ?nnywella turns back to the bookshelf on the north wall and removes a large book. “This is a philosophy generally referred to as utilitarianism, but I am heavily altering it. I would be more than happy to lend you this book if you wish to know more.“ She takes another drag from her cigarette. “It is also significantly cheaper to just execute a criminal than it is to house them in a prison or to attempt to rehabilitate them, allowing me to better spend the money of taxpayers in places where it matters—giving impoverished women and single mothers the money to afford food, to prevent them from turning to things like prostitution.”

  Faey stares blankly at ?nnywella, the large booking looking comical in her small hands. “I’m glad they teach us things like knitting and cooking at the college and have fun, short books; that book doesn’t seem fun at all.”

  “I think it’s quite fun. Now, I was a bit hasty with my talking points, as we are not here to debate, and this is clearly not within your comfort zone, but if you have the time, I would be more than happy to sit down with you and explain all of this in more detail.” ?nnywella places a foot on the ladder, intent on going up.

  “No, no, I appreciate the offer, but g?ri’Seliani wanted me back before 22:00.” Faey responds. Immediately, she regrets telling ?nnywella the actual time.

  Enlynn and Awenela look to Faey, shaking their heads, motioning for her to stop, not wanting her to enable ?nnywella further.

  “Oh...” ?nnywella’s voice saddens. “I don’t think I could explain this in such a short time.” She steps off the ladder and places the book back, returning to Floryana.

  Faey breathes a sigh of relief and turns back to Enlynn and Awenela—who both have their heads in their hands, thankful it is over. Making her way back to the ground floor and over to the writing desk, trying to look over the shoulder of Floryana.

  Floryana quickly pushes all the papers together and flips them over, small cutout words and characters scattering about the desk and floor. “What do you think you’re doing? You have been forbidden from reading these—even in their current state.” Floryana stands up from the desk, looming over the young priestess, two heads shorter than her, who is now quickly backing away. “It is 13:15; I eat lunch at 13:30 and will not be late.”

  Floryana takes her hat from the couch and dismisses herself from the queen’s library, heels loudly clicking on the hardwood flooring; storming past Osmund, she ignores his attempt to speak with her. Her abrupt exit leaves Faey in shock, ?nnywella chuckling, and the two ladies-in-waiting hastily making their way down the ladder.

  “Have you eaten yet, ?ppolonia?” asks ?nnywella. “I will be joining Franheska; you are more than welcome to join us if you wish.”

  Faey agrees; she and ?nnywella wait for Awenela and Enlynn to come down from the loft, and the group heads to the great hall.