In the Arboretum

Kaza Maru was Her Highness Princess Isolde Morgana Calzocchi’s Esteemed Royal Assistant in the Matters of Gyd’s Blood, the Affinity of the Soul, Predetermined Divination, and Magicianship In General.

Kaza Maru also distinctly did not want to be Her Highness Princess Isolde Morgana Calzocchi’s Esteemed Royal Assistant in the Matters of Gyd’s Blood, the Affinity of the Soul, Predetermined Divination, and Magicianship In General.

(“Her Highness Princess Isolde Morgana Calzocchi, Second Heir to the Crown of Diesce and the Tigress Twin of Northern Gyd,” she had introduced herself. Kaza called her Isolde.)

Kaza was currently waiting in the arboretum while said princess chatted with a diplomat across the hall. For some reason, she wanted Kaza to accompany her nearly everywhere, but wouldn’t let them overhear half her conversations. This would be fine with Kaza if they actually cared about their job, which they really, distinctly, did not.

“It’s all for show!” she had said. “I need them to see I have a powerful magician in my ranks. It intimidates them.” 

Kaza wasn’t particularly sure what about them was intimidating.

The arboretum was awfully humid.

Their neck itched under their collar. It was dreadfully uncomfortable. Cicadas buzzed noisily from every direction as the air slid sticky down their back. Kaza determined that leather was a material right out of hell. Isolde was rich—couldn’t she afford silk, or something? Wool, at least? But no, Esteemed Royal Assistants wore these stupid uniforms with leather bodices—even in the summer, apparently—so Kaza had to suffer.

Get on with it, thought Kaza, as they gave the diplomat a stink-eye through the glass.

Kaza closed their eyes and let themself fall into the network of their magic. They were probably supposed to be doing this anyway, actually. They followed the ruddy pink web of the diplomat’s soul as it tangled around him. He was a Loyalist, more connected to the Old House than any of the New Houses, but he didn’t seem to hold much enmity against the rising House Calzocchi. He had a wife, a daughter, and a second child that was less of a son than he thought.  He was fretting about a bakery in the middle city closing. He was having an affair. It was all deeply banal.

Neither he nor Isolde seemed to care much about their conversation and Kaza silently begged them to give it up. The leather bodice was becoming insufferable. They could swear it would only take a few more moments before they would suffocate.

Finally, the pair began to break up the conversation. Perhaps Isolde forgot her ego and took it upon herself to end Kaza’s plight. Kaza cracked open an eye to see her wave the diplomat off before striding into the arboretum.

Kaza stood and stretched. “That took an eon. What were you even talking about?”

“Tropical birds,” proclaimed Isolde, as if it were the most important thing in the world. Kaza couldn’t tell if she was lying. “Do you think we could use him?”

 “His political opinions are bland,” said Kaza, “but he is fucking the head of the waitstaff.”

Isolde only hummed as they made their way out of the awful arboretum.