Parcival thought he was going to go mad

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Parcival thought he was going to go mad. With all the time the Elders were taking to come to a decision he could have left by now. Corry. If he could just get her alone, then they could sneak out later tonight.

A knock on the door.

"Excuse me, Sir."  A young girl said.

Now what was it? He put the quill back into the inkwell. Did father want him for another conference? "It's not locked."

The apprentice peered at him from around the door's edge. She held a tiny scroll between three shaking fingers.

"Thank you." He got up and took the scroll. It felt heavier than it looked. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a gold piece, and placed it into her still opened hands. The skinny girl gave him a quick smile before running off down the hall, her little fist clamped tight. Nothing like a little gold to cheer you up. Not as much fun as being with Friends at that age, but good none the less.

He unrolled the scroll and pulled on both ends. The scroll stretched, and he flipped it repeating this lengthwise. It became full size. Finally, a reply.

                                    Dear, Parcival Hartell,

I regret to inform you that due to the current difficulties occurring I am unable to be of assistance. My country is under siege by a volley of vegetation as I write this. I advise you request a hearing with the Ancient ones immediately, and have the woman purged. I urgently request a brigade to be sent ASAP If this fails to work remember you are obliged to preserve the balance. Don't repeat the mistakes of the five.

My heart goes out to you all, Olenus bless,

Stevarth, Jackson

He threw the scroll, it bounced on the desk rolled open and knocked over the bottle of ink. The ink pooled onto the table and under the scroll. As if things couldn't become any worse. He went to grab the dust rag on the table and blotted it. Then reached for the scroll and tried to wipe some off, but only managed to smear the ink on its back. This day was going down the pot. He sat with his head resting on a hand. The paper drew the ink further and it spread down the edges, the ink separated from areas of it. The longer he stared at it the more the wax words stood out:

Go, tr—

The rest of the message was a blob that streaked down to the bottom of the paper. He sprung up and grabbed the letter and jogged down the hallway. Before reaching fathers room he stopped, and put the letter into a pouch and tied it tight. What did he mean? Go somewhere? What caused him to leave it unfinished, if so how did the letter make it here? He knocked on the door. Just as he was about to turn away it opened.

"A little early for breakfast Lesa, come back later." He stretched and scratched his sides. "It's you. What do you want ? I was trying to sleep." Father frowned at him.

(On Hold)❧ Soul Tear ❧ Book One: The Last Spirit AdaptRead this story for FREE!