The Baby and the Battlefield

Chapter Twenty-Three: Suspicions in Capea

Alone at the desk in his master's office, Cinnamon excitedly pawed at the package he had just accepted. The well-dressed messenger had been bearing letters for Vitus, as well as a bundle of cloth impressed with a wax seal. The package was from Vitus' mother, which to Cinnamon meant that there was likely a cache of delicious baked goods within. Maybe even baked goods made by Cinnamon's own mother, since Vitus' mother didn't actually bake. Cinnamon pulled back folds of cloth, delighted to reveal a cluster of sweet caraway biscuits. Anxious that Vitus might walk in at any moment, he stuffed one cookie into his belt, and a second into his mouth, before carefully re-wrapping the package. He then began to flip through the letters that had accompanied the package.

Several were from Vitus' family, and therefore boring, as well as none of Cinnamon's business. There was one addressed in the careful, girlish hand of Vitus' fiancée, which was potentially more interesting than the family letters, but even moreso, none of Cinnamon's business. To put it plainly, Vitus' wrath would be legendary if Cinnamon opened that one. Finally, there was an odd letter, a sheet of papyrus folded around a sheet of vellum, sealed messily with dirty, grey-green wax. Cinnamon picked at the seal; the wax was crumbly, and whatever device had been impressed there was no longer legible. The letter was addressed strangely, too, scrawled, blocky writing that said only, “To the governor's attaché and his slave. Immediate Delivery”

Cinnamon slit the greenish wax with a fingernail, unfolding the outer layer of paper as he took a bite of the cookie. He scanned the letter, his eyes growing wide. He pulled out the inner sheet, then choked on his biscuit, sending a spray of fine crumbs and caraway seeds across the table.

“Aha!” Vitus’ familiar voice came from the back of the room, “You see the rewards of your nefarious action. I am sure that package of biscuits was not addressed to you, you cookie thief.”

Cinnamon shook his head desperately, still choking, and pushed the outer sheet of papyrus towards Vitus. Vitus grabbed a cookie before he took up the paper, the smirk on his face suddenly disappearing. Then he tore open the inner sheet of vellum.

“Who sent this?!”

Breathing heavily, Cinnamon managed to get out, “It came with the other letters, with the package from your mother.”

Vitus flipped the paper over, studying it. Then he began to read out loud, his voice dull and monotonous and dreadful, catching on the occasional word.

'The two of you are a serious problem for those more powerful than you. We suggest you think twice before you help another Estavacan strumpet, or look too hard into what one is doing. The last idiot who tried it didn't end up doing so well.'

The other sheet, the folded vellum, was simply an official copy of an imperial army death notice. Neatly stamped with the dragon-and-rose seal, the standard document laid out the details of a death which had occurred three weeks before in a town called Arcius. The death by pneumonia of a young man. A young man whose name was Gaius.