Cross And Dot

On leaving the house, he locks the door behind him. He is swiftly accosted by the over eager Euden. “Sir Petel!”

Euden was the youngest son of a Burgher branch of the Wilheld family, a connection he was eager to flaunt at the drop of a hat. If only he took his work as seriously as he took his loosely connected lineage. He at least looked the part, sharing Duke Wilheld’s golden locks and prominent chin.

As irritating as Euden was, his social standing was higher than Petel’s. Though the station of Auditor granted Petel authority equal to a Marquee when required, he himself was barely a gentleman, and while Euden’s influence was technically no greater than his, the young upstart’s family ties elevated him to something on par with a Baron.

All that to say that a certain awkwardness surrounded their interactions, tip-toeing around the political eggshells that were scattered between them. Petel as the senior Auditor held a marginal leg up, but the proper etiquette was always required regardless of personal feelings.

“Good morning, Wilheld. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Petel inquired, knowing all too well why the boy darkened his doorstep.

“Straight to the point… I may have been given something I’m in over my head with… I… humbly request your assistance… again.”

Petel couldn’t help sighing through his nose. “I’ll have a look.”

Euden enthusiastically shook his hand. “I knew I could count on you, I’ll put in a good word with my uncle for you, you have my word as a Wilheld!”

“Tell me more about this account, Wilheld…”

Euden released his grip. “Of course, of course.” They started walking to the counting house. “Your aid in the past, while appreciated, has made me out to be an exemplary Auditor. I’ve been given an account that I can’t make heads or tails of. The numbers just… don’t make sense.”

Petel’s brow cocked. “Color me intrigued. Who’s account have you been assigned?”

Euden shook is head. “They only gave me the numbers from the ledger, all else has been omitted.”

“Hm… unusual… I have my own accounts to close, but luckily for you, only my reports remain. You’ll have my aide.”

“You are a saint and an inspiration, Sir Petel!”

Once they arrived at the counting house and signed in, Euden invited Petel to his desk. Petel did an initial skim of the numbers. The math itself seemed mostly there, a couple of numbers didn’t quite add up, but… “Is this everything?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I can’t help feeling they’ve set me up for failure.”

“Hm… as a relative of the Duke, I’m sure you are well-versed in the proper courtesy of court dealings. In return for this, I’ll ask you to draft a version of my reports suited for the upper echelons.”

Euden gave a gentleman's bow. “It will be pristine.”

Petel walked to his desk, retrieved the reports, and traded them for the mystery account. “We’ll exchange documents again in three days.”

Euden took the reports. “Three days, on my honor as a Wilheld!”

Petel rolled his eyes and took the account documents back to his desk. The ink looked to be iron gall, perfectly normal. and the numbers were unusual, but not what stood out the most.

The most striking thing about the documents in front of him properly was what they were written on. It wasn’t parchment, it was paper! For a scribe to make a copy of a ledger on paper of all things, they must have been employed by a member of the upper echelons, an Earl at the very least. It may explain the omission of names.

Petel had only encountered a handful of documents written on paper in his tenure as an Auditor. To his knowledge, the Duchy of Mordeau held the sole rights of paper production, and they seldom shared the product or its secrets with anyone. All of their most important documents were written on paper, typically with a charcoal-based ink. Those of the Mordeau house would certainly land among the upper echelons.

The ink was another oddity on further consideration. The distinct metallic scent left little doubt that it was iron gall, not the typical charcoal ink of Mordeau. There was a possibility it was penned by a contractor. It would have to be someone with connections to the counting house for it to land on our desks as it did. Some kind of contract was in place between the Mordeau and Wilheld houses.

On the numbers themselves, Euden was correct this time. The numbers were practically gibberish. Petel would have discarded these documents to be some sort of joke if it weren’t for the medium they were scribed upon. No one in their right mind would have paper to spare for a prank. Either someone of House Mordeau had it out for Euden, a scribe of House Mordeau was illiterate, or there was more to the numbers than was plainly written.

The second option was the least likely. The first option… Petel hadn’t heard of a feud between the Wilheld and Mordeau duchies in recent history. Even if there were a private matters at play, a potential scandal between the two was something only a great fool would risk. A great fool might also waste paper on a grudge. Given the nature of the document’s makeup, this was highly unlikely.

All that remained, then, was that the numbers were more than they seemed…

This was going to be a headache.