I pelted to Arthur's rooms, where I hoped he would be, because I had—as Baldric would say—a cunning plan. Except that this really was a good idea. Time to clear it with the boss-man. I knew what had to be done the moment that Kahedin mentioned the bet. After all that the Prefect had done, it was high time that we took back our power and hit the Prefect with it.
Skidding to a halt outside his door, I took a moment to compose myself and then knocked on the door.
"Enter," Arthur said. I threw the door open and strode in. "Oh, Kation, good to see you lad," Arthur continued, sounding happy to see me. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, sir. Just anticipating your orders, sir," I said. There was a startled pause as Arthur waiting for more. "Regarding the Prefect," I added.
"Oh?" Arthur sounded wary and I approved of his sentiment. "And which plan was that?"
"The one where you obtain confessions from the conspirators that are in custody—including Donatus' spies and the soldiers who took part in the revolt. You said you wanted this to be done in the legal and proper way, so that the Prefect can't accuse you of his own under-handed tactics." I paused and licked my lips, knowing I was putting an awful lot of words in his mouth. I knew he was smart, but maybe exhaustion, desperation and alcohol would make him susceptible to playing along. "I was just coming to remind you about this brilliant idea, sir," I said finally. "I must say, it's an excellent plan. War on the bureaucratic front."
Arthur listened carefully and then thought about it for a long time. "Of course. And how long will this take?"
I almost collapsed with relief. "If we work on it all the time…" I thought about it seriously. "I'd say it will be ready by the Sabbath after next."
"Seventeen days?" he didn't quite manage to hide his dismay.
"Well, we have to get confessions written down and collect the evidence together in a single report, that won't take the governor too long to read." I said.
"I see," he didn't sound very pleased about this time frame. "You do realise that the governor could be here any day now? How can we make it go faster?" he asked.
"Get every literate man to work through the interviews—so you and I are free to compile all the data and write the report."
"We would have to suspend all unnecessary tasks, including restoring our defences," Arthur gasped, sounding stunned.
"Very probably, but if we do that for even two days—working into the night—then I can write the report in seven days. I can start compiling a plan and structure for it now."
"But I wanted you on patrol tomorrow," Arthur protested. "I need my best scouts and spies out there looking out for the Prefect's next move."
"I can't be everywhere, sir, we either brace ourselves for whatever he plans as we make this report, or I do this the nasty way. And I know you won't like that option."
"What are you suggesting?" Arthur said coldly, his familiar expression of moral rectitude firmly in place.
"That I infiltrate the Prefect's personal retinue and murder him. I could even make it look like suicide, if you like."
Arthur shuddered. "Let's try the other idea first," he said fervently. "When shall we start?"
I was privately amazed that he was deferring to me on these matters. "Tomorrow. First thing." I replied. "I'll compose a plan tonight, so that we can start straight away in the morning."
~oOo~
It did take a week, but only because I think I slept a grand total of twelve hours during that entire time. I was so busy that I didn't have any time to talk to Tristan about The Problem. Because yes, it had earned that capitalisation fair and square. Arthur made good on his promise and we were swamped by hundreds of scraps of parchment. I think that the R.F.L. (read: Righteously Fearless Leader/Resident Fanatical Lunatic) and I forged a bond through the never-ending hell of all that paperwork.
Tristan was amongst the conscripted interviewers, and I almost forgot The Problem until I came across one of his witness statements—the small, painfully neat letters conveying more than just his discomfort of practising his letters.
Or maybe I was just reading into things.
Either way, it was almost lunch time on the day before the deadline, Arthur had gone off to check that Lancelot was following his detailed instructions correctly (talk about mother-hen complex, those two were borderline boyfriends without the sexual attraction to take the edge off). So I was left sitting at the desk (which I had wholly commandeered), to finish writing out the most incriminating parts of Baron Donatus' letters to the Woads. Then all that was left were my prepared conclusion notes. Then Gawain entered Arthur's office.
"Hi kitten," he said, he sounded nervous.
"Do you have another interview for me?" I asked, not looking up from my pen. "Because if so, I'm afraid it's a little too late."
"No, I've come to warn you that the governor's retinue has been spotted less than a mile away."
That got my attention. "Great, thank you."
"You didn't finish your breakfast," Gawain added, pointing to a plate that had somehow been half-buried under stacks of crop reports. (Good riddance.)
"Oh," I frowned, trying to remember if I'd even seen it. Nope. "Well, never mind. I'm sure one of the pigs would be happy to destroy the evidence. Don't tell Vanora," I advised and returned my gaze to the report, which blurred alarmingly for a second before coming back into focus.
"Kat, you must eat. And rest."
"I'll sleep when I've finished," I promised. We had described the entire conspiracy, making logical baby-steps in the narration so that the governor would have no choice but to follow along tamely to the conclusion prepared for him.
Gawain just shook his head. "You look ill, Kat, really ill. If you don't take a nap after finishing that report," he held up a finger threateningly, "then I'm calling Dagonet in to drug you into sleep."
"Fine, you can say I've got a cold and let me stay in bed for the entire Sabbath," I ignored the dull, deep throb of cramp in my right hand and prayed Gawain hadn't noticed its slight tremor.
"What are you doing to yourself?" said a voice behind him. Tristan appeared in the doorway looking as grumpy as I'd ever seen him. As I may have said before, Tristan has a face that expresses his emotions in odd ways. So right now, one side of his mouth was pulled upwards in what would have been a definite sneer on another man. In his case it was closer to a snarl of anger.
"Nothing I can't handle," I replied.
"You are on the verge of collapse," Tristan insisted.
"Ridiculous," I scoffed. "I know my limits."
I saw Gawain's eyebrow go up another accusatory notch as he watched us battle.
"Clearly not," Tristan was edging towards me, clearly uncertain of whether I was heavily armed or not. "Now Gawain, do I have to do something drastic?"
"Well—no, but—oh shut up!" I knew I'd pitch over any second, but was damned if I did it in front of these two. Gawain would never let me live it down, despite being wholly sympathetic, while Tristan would never let it happen again, despite being completely unsympathetic.
Right now, they were honestly as bad as each other since they were ganging up on me.
"I have to finish this report, and I have no time to do it, now that the governor is almost at the gates," I exclaimed.
"How long will it take?" Tristan asked suspiciously.
"You can watch me do it," I said. "I've already drafted it, I just need to copy it out."
They exchanged a doubting look, but eventually Tristan nodded shortly. With a deep sigh, I picked up my pen, only to realise that I had somehow broken the nib.
It almost finished me off. I suppressed the scream, but my eyes must have conveyed that I was a woman on the edge of control, because Tristan and Gawain fell into a rushing panic to find me another pen amidst the chaos of the room. Eventually one was found and pressed into my hand. I flinched at the pressure on my strained fingers but quickly loaded it with ink and began to write. Tristan and Gawain moved around the desk to watch me closely, making sure that I was indeed copying out only three short paragraphs, rather than an entire treatise of the Prefect's evil. When I finally finished, I knew that it would start to get dark soon and sighed, putting my pen down and blowing gently on the ink to make it dry faster. Then I rolled up the report and tied it with some rough twine.
Two sets of hands fell upon me and I was lifted out of the chair. "Hey!" I said. "I can walk on my own!"
"Right," Gawain drawled. "If we were both to let go of you, would you be able to walk?"
I wrenched in their grip, ready to prove myself, but they only tightened their hold and propelled my stumbling steps out of the barracks and towards the east gate. Arthur and most of the knights were already there, looking like they'd been rather hasty in tidying themselves up. Arthur saw the scroll clutched in my good hand and visibly sagged with relief.
"Everything okay?" I asked, handing it over to him.
"As well as it can be," he replied. "It's all there?"
"You'll have to organise all the supporting evidence, but yes. Everything important is in that scroll."
"Good," he smiled, though he was still tense. "Gawain, can you go back to my rooms and make sure that they are well-guarded? Thank you. Tristan, I want you to ride out an escort the governor here, along with the twins. And Kation," he smiled at me. "God bless you, boy," he said. "Go to Vanora and rest, you have the rest of the day off."
I grinned and raised an eyebrow dubiously. "Sure you won't need me?" I teased.
Arthur sniffed and pretended to be offended. "Off with you, impertinent brat. We were fine before you ever clapped eyes on this place."
Tristan dragged me back to the barracks and stuffed me into his bed with strict demands not to leave unless it was for food, before whirling away again to carry out his own duty. Snuggling down into the blankets that smelled of him, I finally let myself rest.