Free Web NovelChapter 32: Telegram Home
"Order has been restored."
Vincent stared at the report.
Nobody spoke.
The telegraph machines continued clicking somewhere in the distance.
A clerk walked by and delivered another report.
People and machines did their work. Everything seemed to be running normally.
But Vincent’s mind—it blanked.
All thoughts ceased.
He read the last few lines again.
"I was hungry..." Vincent softly muttered under his breath.
Anastasia’s ear twitched. She looked up from the reports.
The young master was still staring at the telegram.
His expression had not changed.
A few moments later.
A pair of calm red eyes glanced in her direction.
"Anastasia."
She stood up and walked to his side.
"Young master."
Vincent showed her the report and closed his eyes.
"Tell me something."
Anastasia lowered her gaze to the telegram.
"Yes?"
Vincent tapped the final line.
"The knight who cut off the child’s arm."
His finger moved upward.
"The officer who approved his punishment."
Higher still.
"The commander who issued the regulations."
Vincent opened his eyes and glanced up at Anastasia.
"Which one of them thought this was normal?"
Anastasia fell quiet.
She did not answer immediately.
Because she knew the answer.
All of them.
The knight followed procedure that the officer had approved which was written by the region’s commander.
The system functioned exactly as it was intended.
Nothing had gone wrong.
That’s what made it so disturbing.
After a slight pause, she voiced her thoughts out loud to her young master.
Vincent lowered his gaze.
’For one loaf of bread... they cut his arm off...’
’...and none of the people involved believe they’ve done anything wrong...’
A strange feeling rose in Vincent’s chest.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Something colder.
If this was normal...
Then the problem was bigger than a single knight.
"Anastasia."
"Yes, young master?"
"Under D’Arc law... who commands the Knight Order?"
Anastasia blinked.
"The Grand Commander."
"And above him?"
"The Head of House D’Arc."
The knights standing nearby all stared in Vincent’s direction.
Vincent leaned back.
"Good."
His fingers tapped the table once.
"Then I’m done asking for explanations."
Vincent’s gaze fell at the First Unit Knights staring in his direction.
Then at the reports.
Then at the telegram.
"The Knight Order has failed multiple times."
Silence ensued.
"The mine collapse."
His finger tapped the table.
"The delayed response to my arrival."
Another tap.
"Silver Town."
A third tap.
"Their intelligence failed. Their priorities failed. Their oversight failed. And the refugee camp..."
Vincent clicked his tongue and leaned forward.
"From this moment onward, the Knight Order’s suspended until further notice."
The knights stiffened.
One of the knights in the corner raised his eyebrows.
"Until I determine who can still be trusted, operational authority will be transferred to the Railguard Division."
Not a single word of protest was let out.
None in the room had the authority to.
Vincent turned to Anastasia.
"The Grand Commander, Commanders, and Captains are to be sent to the Northern border. The rest of the knights will merge with the Railguard Division."
"Young master..."
Anastasia’s eyes widened slightly. The order was quite drastic...
Vincent looked at her. "You wanna say something?"
His serious expression made Anastasia close her mouth.
’...drastic... but not unreasonable.’
She shook her head and said, "I’ll send the notice."
Vincent nodded.
He then took a small stack of papers and looked at the First Unit’s knights in the room.
"Your unit is to continue with the escort mission."
"As His Lordship wills!" The knights gave him a respectful bow while looking down.
Vincent went back to reading more reports.
In the distance, Anastasia drafted a notice while the telegraph machines kept clicking.
Despite the sound, Vincent felt the room suddenly turning quiet.
Much quieter, as if someone had stopped breathing down his neck.
He tried not to have unnecessary thoughts and focused on work.
A few hours later.
Vincent’s neck felt stiff. He clasped it with one hand and tried to stretch while continuing to read.
The reports had long blurred together.
Grain shortages.
Refugee movements.
Price increases.
Merchant complaints.
One stack became two.
Two became three.
The pile on his left shrank.
The pile on his right grew.
Somewhere along the way, he stopped caring which was which.
Vincent grabbed another report.
"Grain prices are about to surge in the kingdom."
He picked his pen and wrote it down.
His hand slipped. He scribbled and wrote again.
Another report.
"Emergency purchase approved."
Another.
"Merchant consortium refuses county contract."
Another.
"Food distribution delayed in East District."
Vincent rubbed his eyes.
His vision briefly blurred.
He blinked twice and looked down again.
A report from the Capital.
"Grain prices increased by 40% kingdom-wide."
Vincent frowned. He tried to pick up his pen but grabbed empty air. He retried and wrote down the information.
He continued reading.
"House Lerch purchased forty thousand sacks of grain."
His eyes moved lower.
"House Lerch purchased sixty thousand additional sacks."
Vincent stopped for a second.
He re-read the line.
"...Ten years?"
The next page estimated their grain reserves exceeded projected consumption for over a decade.
Outside, refugees were fighting over loaves of bread.
Meanwhile someone had enough grain to feed a territory for ten years.
Vincent leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
"...Bastards."
He let the report fall onto the table.
A few moments later, he noted information down and read another report.
It continued until the sky beyond the windows gradually darkened.
Nobody reminded him.
Nobody interrupted him.
The telegraph machines continued clicking.
Clerks came and went.
Candles were replaced.
Fresh stacks appeared.
The work never ended.
At some point, Vincent stopped noticing the passage of time altogether.
A shadow fell across the table.
"Young master."
Vincent did not look up.
"Hm?"
Anastasia placed a fresh sheet of paper before him.
"The sun has already set."
Vincent stared blankly at the report in his hand.
"...It has?"
"Yes."Anastasia’s gaze briefly shifted toward the darkened window.
"It is time to send a telegram home."
Vincent’s eyes felt heavy but he picked the pen and began writing on the empty sheet even if his fingers ached.
Vincent soon wrote the first line.
"Hello mom, hope you’re doing good.
I am doing good too.
Silver Town got taken over by bandits.
Before you get angry, it wasn’t my fault this time.
The Knight Order messed up and I think they’ve got spies?
Yeah so anyway, I suspended them.
The County is still standing though. No need to worry.
Anastasia says I should sleep more.
I really need sleep but there’s so much work. freēwēbnovel.com
The clerks keep bringing me reports.
I think they multiply when nobody is looking.
If Leona was here, I wouldn’t have so much trouble.
Sigh... I miss Leona...
Anyway, Anastasia’s tea is keeping me afloat. Do you know, she makes really good tea?
So yeah, tea is good.
Everything else is terrible.
Anyway, everything’s under control.
I’m still alive.
You don’t need to worry at all.
Love you.
Your son,
Vincent."
After signing it off, he handed the page to Anastasia and went back to reading another report even though his eyes felt heavy.
She took it to the telegraph machines and began typing it out.
After typing the first two sentences, she paused.
She looked at the letter and read it, her expression becoming strange.
What lay in her hand was not a report.
It was not even proper correspondence.
It looked more like a conversation someone had accidentally written down.
"Before you get angry, it wasn’t my fault this time."
"Yeah so anyway, I suspended them."
"I miss Leona."
"Tea is good."
"Everything else is terrible."
Anastasia read the lines again.
Then a third time.
...
The young master truly did not know how to write letters.
Her gaze drifted toward Vincent and she found him reading another report, completely oblivious to everything.
Anastasia suddenly felt a trace of sympathy for whoever received the telegram in the Capital.
She shook her head and continued transmitting the messages.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The machine repeated each word without judgement.
Line after line.
Word after word.
Eventually—
Love you.
Your son,
Vincent.
Anastasia’s fingers paused above the key.
It was only for a moment before she hit the keys and finished transmitting the telegram.
The message was gone and there was no taking it back now.
Anastasia looked toward Vincent again.
The young master was still reading reports with a deep frown on his face.
One hand held a pen.
The other rubbed his eyes.
He looked less like the acting head of a noble house and more like a student forced to finish his task before sunrise.
A small sigh escaped Anastasia.
Then she stood up and returned to work.
...
The Capital, Falkner Kingdom.
Inside the D’Arc mansion.
A butler hurried through the main hall and stopped before a brown-haired maid standing near the staircase.
"Miss Linda."
He handed over a freshly received telegram.
Linda accepted it and quickly skimmed through the contents.
The more she read, the stranger her expression became.
The butler quietly waited.
After a while, he asked, "Is the young master encountering difficulties?"
Linda lowered the telegram.
"He appears exhausted."
The butler nodded.
"He mentions quite a few problems."
"He did."
Linda pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt a faint headache form.
The Madam had instructed the young master to send a telegram home before sunset.
A simple update.
Nothing more.
Unfortunately, the young master seemed to have interpreted that instruction somewhat differently.
The telegram contained the matters regarding Silver Town.
Matters regarding the Knight Order.
Matters regarding his workload.
And mixed somewhere in between...
Things that should never have been transmitted through a public telegraph line.
The contents were not inappropriate.
That only made it worse.
It was the sort of personal correspondence that should have gone directly from son to mother.
Instead, half a dozen people had inevitably read it during transmission.
Linda suddenly felt sympathy for everyone involved.
The butler hesitated.
"Should we send assistance?"
"Did the young master request assistance?"
"...No."
"Then we do nothing."
The butler lowered his head.
"As you say, Miss Linda."
Linda folded the telegram.
Then she looked at him.
"You read nothing."
The butler immediately straightened his back.
"Of course."
"You heard nothing."
"Naturally."
"And if anyone asks..."
The butler did not wait for her to finish.
"I received a routine status update from the Northern Region."
Linda nodded in satisfaction.
Good.
At least one person here understood the danger.
"Prepare the young lady’s report."
"At once."
A few minutes later.
Inside Vivienne’s study.
The moon had risen above the capital. Its pale light slipped through the tall windows and spilled across the dark room.
Bookshelves lined the walls.
Portraits watched silently from gilded frames.
The silver glow stretched across the floor before coming to rest upon a black wooden desk.
Linda stepped forward and placed Vincent’s telegram beside Vanessa’s report.
Nothing seemed unusual.
The room was as quiet as ever.
She turned to leave and the door clicked shut behind her.
Silence returned.
Beyond the window, clouds drifted across the moon.
The curtains stirred gently.
Moonlight washed over the desk.
For a brief moment, the two letters rested there untouched.
An instance later,
They were gone.
