the elven goods that pass through Calnor and are shipped out to our neighbors, and that everyone receives their orders, and he keeps the paperwork from all of it.” Arvel flipped open several logbooks and rustled through his desk drawers to find clean sheets of paper.
“What do you have to do to change the Fultons’ order?”
“I have to adjust my records—the royal records. We record each individual order, but then we also keep a running tally of all the orders totaled each trip. I’ll have to change that too.” He stared down at the paper for a moment. “Unfortunately, it looks like they’ve changed their minds on every single item they ordered—canceling a number of their planned purchases and adding quite a few extras. It’s not a simple matter of adding and subtracting to already placed entries. I’ll have to make brand new copies to send to the caravan and the elven merchants leading it so they have the correct orders, and they’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
Myth rubbed her fingers on the spine of her book and watched the crown prince.
That’s going to cause him headaches. The trade department has ended their workday, and even if he gets the orders done in time, he needs someone to translate it into Elvish.
Arvel offered Myth a smile. “But that’s my problem. You go enjoy your evening, Mythlan.”
He dropped his gaze to the papers, and appeared to immerse himself in the work.
Myth stared at the crown prince for a few moments longer, then softly made her way to the door, stepping into the hallway, and leaving the study.
Several minutes after Mythlan had left, Arvel still hadn’t gotten much work done. He rubbed his eyes and tried to keep from mentally calculating the odds that he’d actually finish making the changes in time. If he worked past midnight he’d probably be able to correct the orders, but he wanted to refrain from rousing the trade translators who worked with him if possible. It didn’t seem right to disturb them when he was the one his mother was punishing.
She wants me to fail, to put me in my place.
Arvel began copying the new order in the logbook when the door creaked. He glanced up, then paused in surprise.
Mythlan closed the study door behind herself, then pulled off her apprentice translator jacket, revealing her short-sleeved, pale blue shirt and gray breeches and boots. “I’m ready,” she said.
Arvel dumbly stared at the pretty elf. “For what?”
“To begin working.” She dragged her empty table closer to Arvel’s desk so they nearly touched.
It seemed it was an off night for Arvel. He jumped to his feet too late to help her move anything but her chair. “But…but you left,” he almost stammered.
That’s it, Arvel. Stun her with your awesome powers of observation.
Mythlan nodded. “Yes, I wanted to return my library book. Shall I get started on writing out the elven copy of the order?” She glanced at the open logbooks dotting his desk. “Even if I don’t know the numbers for everything, I can at least copy out the list of materials since it appears you have it in the same format every time. I can look back over past orders for guidance. Since it’s all in elven it’s allowable by Translators’ Circle law as I’m not strictly translating anything.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Arvel slipped his hands in the pockets of his jacket, feeling a little awkward. “This might take me all night. It’s tedious, and it’s not your responsibility as my social translator.”
“I am training to be a trade translator, Your Royal Highness.” A slight smile played at Myth’s lips—not the polite one she put on to appear professional, but something more engaging that hinted at humor. “I’m already familiar with this format—I’ve even made copies of royal logbooks before for practice. But, regardless of my position, it is my privilege to aid you.”
He studied her, and for a moment he wondered if that really was her motivation. He hated that it even occurred to him to ponder it, but he’d seen a lot of ambition covered by beautiful smiles over the past few years.
But the steadiness in Mythlan’s eyes as she smiled at him, and her plain and open manners, revealed the truth.
She was helping him because she wanted to. Not because she had a hidden motivation.
I don’t think she’s like this just because she’s an elf. This…valiance of Mythlan’s is uniquely hers. She’s simply that incredible. I’d almost assumed such warmth didn’t exist anymore—or at