"Ms. Bhatti?" Addressed Harper as she opened the door and peeked her head out from the slim crack.
"Yes, Harper?" Said Mairey as she looked up at the woman, who seemed to be slightly older than the elvish woman, and stopped writing on her current document.
"Mre. Evoy is here to see you." Said the tall, slender, copper haired woman as she pointed her linen beige thumb over her shoulder.
"Alright," she gave Harper a little nod, "Let him in." Once the red haired woman closed the door, it was opened again as a dark elvish man entered the room. He seemed to be around five foot eight and his skin was a deep shade of ash grey. His cloud grey hair was tied back into a low ponytail which reached all the way down to the center of his back while his pointed ears seemed to be four inches long. His small, thin, matching grey section of facial hair formed a loop that encompassed his chin and the section right above his lips. His mouse grey blazer and pants contrasted with his skin. Despite his clean attire, the skin on his neck and the back of his hands seemed to be a bit bruised up. As he approached the elvish woman's desk, Mairey got up from her seat and walked over to one of the filing cabinets in the room. She opened the second to top drawer and ran her finger across the tabs before fishing out a cream beige folder. She closed the drawer and returned to her desk where she placed it down. The man took a seat as Harper closed the door to Mairey's office.
"Mre. Evoy," the elvish woman smiled at him, "I'm glad you could make it to our meeting today. How's your wife?"
The man sat up straight as he placed his large, tan bag down onto the floor. He looked up at her and returned the smile, "I'm glad too, Ms. Bhatti. Ms. Evoy is still sick, however, her brother and I were finally able to afford some medicine for her so she's starting to get better. Thank you for asking!"
"That's great!" She looked down at the folder and opened it up, "Any news about the Creonian refugees?"
"Oh there's a lot," said the man as his tone quickly shifted from joyful to serious, "Bad news, that is. Do you want me to start with the lighter one or the heavier one?"
"Hmm," Mairey looked down at the contents of the folder as she scratched her chin. She looked up at him, "Give me the lighter piece of bad news first."
"Alright," he gave her a slight nod, "The camp is short on supplies."
"Again? Didn't the volunteers provide them with containers of food just a few days ago?"
He nodded again, "Yes, they did. However, the supplies have started mysteriously disappearing from the camps."
"Did more dark elves arrive at the camp?" She scratched her head in confusion.
The man shook his head again, "No, the ambassador of the volunteer group gave me a head count of all the Creonians in the camp every time they went to give the refugees their supplies. There have been a few births, a few new arrivals, and plenty of deaths. But the number has not increased significantly lately, not to the point where the volunteers have to bring them food and medicine every three days instead of every week. I wanted to ask you, have there been any budget cuts?"
The elvish woman shook her head, "There haven't been any cuts made. What about the number of containers? Has that changed at all?"
"Every time I asked the ambassador about the amount of supplies, she would tell me that they had the same amount of crates and barrels as last time."
"Well then what has been causing the shortage?" She sounded confused and concerned.
"We're not entirely sure but we have a theory that someone might be stealing from the refugees."
"Who do you think is behind that?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Probably one of the volunteers," said the man, "Aside from them and their ambassador, there's no other suspects."
"Do you think maybe she has something to do with it?"
The man shook his head, "I've known Claudia my entire career and she has never struck me as a thief."
"What makes you think one of the volunteers might be behind this?"
"From what Claudia has told me, many of the volunteers are youth, some of which came from troubled backgrounds. There are a few volunteers who used to be street rat thieves and I wouldn't be surprised if they still had that urge to steal."
"That's quite the bold assumption, Mre. Evoy," said Mairey, not seeming too pleased with his train of thought, "I'm surprised a gentleman such as yourself would think of such a thing."
"Huh?" The man scratched his head in confusion, "What do you mean by that?"
"Mre. Evoy," she began, "You have told me that this place is all about giving people second chances. I mean, isn't that why you decided to work here? So that you could make sure that those refugees have a second chance and live their best life? That's exactly why those troubled youth have volunteered. They want a second chance too. A chance to straighten their record and turn themselves into honest members of society."
The man hung his head and sighed, "I suppose you have a point, Ms. Bhatti," he looked up at her, "I'm sorry. I've been really frustrated lately with this whole situation regarding the issues at the camp. I just can't imagine what kind of person would want to steal supplies from a group of people who are running away from their homeland and have hardly anything to start over with."
Mairey looked down at her documents for a moment as she began to look through them, "It's alright, Mre. Evoy. I understand that we all get a bit frustrated sometimes."
"That's the least of the issues, Ms. Bhatti," said the man, seeming horrified, "It gets worse!"
"Oh?" She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, "How so?"
"Claudia informed me a while ago that she and her volunteers have found dead bodies at the camp."
"Bodies of the refugees?" Her eyes widened in shock.
He nodded, "Yes, many of them. That's why I mentioned that there have been plenty of deaths."
"Is there something in the water? Have wild animals been hunting them?"
The man shook his head, "No, these deaths were more … Brutal."
"What do you mean?"
"The bodies of these Creonians have been viscously slaughtered with weapons, possibly swords and a few pistols."
"Oh dear!" She gasped, "Has the shortage caused them to turn on one another for resources?"
The man shook his head again, "No, they don't have any pistols or blades. The only tools that the refugees have is the farm equipment that we gave them a few months ago."
"Then what's causing all these brutal deaths?"
This time, the man shrugged, "We're not sure. Every time Claudia asks the other Creonians, they never seem to answer her question."
"That's so strange."
He nodded, "It truly is."
Mairey looked down at the documents again as she continued to read them. "Do you think that maybe bandits have been stealing from them?"
"That could be possible, although that wouldn't explain why their supplies keep getting stolen so frequently. Bandits usually travel and steal as they go."
"Maybe there is a group of bandits that live close to the camp."
"That could be possible as well."
Later that day, Mairey clocked out and left her office to go to Lars' home. The purple man had made dinner for everyone. Mairey sat at the table and looked down at her food with her elbow on the table and her hand on her forehead. She stared at food as she mindlessly forked the mashed potatoes into her mouth as she was deep in her thoughts. Lars looked over at her and noticed that something wasn't right.
"Mairey," said the purple man, "Why do you look so down?"
"Huh?" She snapped back to reality and looked up at him, "Oh, it's just work."
"Can I be excused?" Asked Aphiya as she set her fork down onto the plate. Over the years, her skin had changed color drastically. Her complexion went from being a pale shade of lilac to a pale shade of pastel peach, causing her to look more like her late mother. Her black, hip length hair, which was tied up into a messy bun, stayed the same color along with her dandelion yellow irises. She was now five foot eight, far taller than Mairey.
The man faced her and looked at her plate which was completely empty. He smiled and gave her a little nod, "Sure, sweetie!"
"Thanks, dad!" The fourteen year old girl smiled before she wiped her face with the napkin and hoped down from her chair. She turned around and ran back to her room.
Lars looked over at Mairey again and gave her a concerned expression, "Do you want to talk about it?"
The elvish woman shook her head, "No, you won't understand."
"Won't understand?" He sounded slightly offended, "Why? Because I don't have a degree in wizardry like you do? Because I haven't been working in a government office for the past eight years like you? What do you mean I 'won't understand'?"
Mairey gasped softly once she realized how her words had come off, "I'm sorry, Lars. I didn't mean it like that. I said that you won't understand because neither me nor my coworkers understand the issue."
"Oh," the man quickly calmed down, "I'm sorry, Mairey." He sighed, discontent with himself, "I've been having a stressful week. I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."
Mairey gave him a soft smile as she placed her hand on his forearm, "It's alright, Lars."
"So what's the issue exactly? Maybe I can try to help."