"What do you mean? It's all the same," the Sijarkes groaned, stomping her feet. "It's actually not as difficult as you simpletons may think it is."
Completely ignorant of the fact that Nubejul had begun to head for the mysterious scroll, she pressed on, determined to teach her scribe a thing or two about what it means to be in her shoes.
"I'll give you a free lesson, just this once. It's not like one of those fancy private schools you've been in. Will you listen?"
She sat down without waiting for a willing response. He's practically paid to listen to her, and he will. She'd spent all her life doing the same for the Tirkju'a, now it was also the job of her measly scribe who doesn't even own the right to exist in two of his homelands.
"The Tirkju'a's duties, as you both already know, not only focuses on building shit and listening to other Dommes whine about their share of work. It also encompasses managing the expectations of Katill Broiis. That expectation is to make shit happen."
She paused thoughtfully, attempting to find the words to best simplify her point. "Katill Broiis needs to see that I'm actually making a difference around here." She looked at a silent Toruaz again, a sober expression washing over her. "That's what's important."
Now that she was in Gu'ambiss, she realized that she must also establish how she was going to go about her work. In Katill Broiis, all her work was sourced out unto the respective authorities.
She shrugged. "I don't have wings so I was thinking we'd start local, for now."
"So you want me to handle Gu'ambiss' requests in your stead?"
"Gu'ambiss is the Margijer's problem," she grumbled, grabbing her chalice once more, pouring herself another glass of wine. "But it couldn't hurt to show some generosity, I guess." She reached down again to grab a handful of grapes, which was gathered as a pile of sack under her seat.
"As long as it is within our means, of course. I'm gonna need you to send me a full inventory of my funds for the remainder of this year, Du Quam Tavhaii," she called out. When she leaned back on her seat, she smiled at Toruaz with her usual hint of smugness. She had to only keep up this air until he shoos off.
"Simple, huh? Not at all that difficult, really."
"It's not all the same, Domma Sijarkes." Toruaz would not relent. "Some might require a bit more scrutinizing and ratification if it were—"
The Sijarkes slammed a fist against the armrest.
"I just want results, alright? Can I have that?"
Toruaz paused, ascertaining what would be the best course of action after that outburst. He moved to open his mouth again and the Sijarkes could not take anymore, covering her ears quickly and turning away.
"My lord, you talk too much for a scribe!"
Her eyes quickly caught Nubejul at a distance with his back turned.
"Oh! Du Quam Tavhaii, I commend your volunteerism," the Sijarkes said, leaning against her arm rest to get a good look at what Nubejul has in his possession. Her brow perked when the gleam of gold caught her eye.
Nubejul whipped around to face her, the questionable scroll in hand, temptingly. "Ah, Domma Sijarkes, I was only taking a look—"
"At what? What is it you have there?"
Nubejul looked down, eyeing the details engraved unto the handles. "I noticed the gold lining on this scroll unlike any other I've seen here so far." He looked up, eyes wide in shock. "I believe it is an old mission for the Tirkju'a…issued by Katill Broiis…10 Ki Heptres prior."
Nubejul turned away again, the contents of the scroll only available to his eyes only.
"Ki Heptre 3724...," Toruaz muttered under his breath, memory jogging back to that time, when he would have merely been his uncle's rebellious travel companion.
"Very boring year," the Sijarkes commented. "I knew all that the Tirkju'a did. I was somewhat like his second mate, y'know. So, what was asked of him then?" There was one thing she didn't know though, and that was the question of why he'd put off anything issued by Katill Broiis when he practically lives there. If this had been a one off case, it would probably be fine. But if not, then starting out this job might be harder than she thought.
"He was asked by the Parrhadomme to visit Gansa, and by the end of it…," Nubejul said slowly as he read over the scroll a second time. "…supply an official verdict as to whether they were ready to be welcomed into the Domminical Order."
Toruaz felt his stomach drop. The Sijarkes felt that from him, throwing him a side glance as he grew paler than he normally was. "Gansa? My goodness…!"
"I know, right? What Gansa does is none of our business. It's not even one of our states," the Sijarkes agreed, rolling her eyes as she threw herself on her back to lie on her seat. She thought the scroll would contain something big. Guess today was not her lucky day.
"W-wait…"
She lifted herself up with her claws, leaning forward in her throne to face Nubejul's distant form.
"…welcome WHO into the Order?!"