The morning was pleasant and, despite inevitable setbacks, was full of hope. He'd had a lovely breakfast, and their morning training exercise had gone surprisingly well. When once a thousand thoughts had frittered distractedly in his mind, there was now only a pleasant hum of an overclocked Mechmian brain. It wasn't until he was sitting in the comfortable dispatch office that his day suddenly turned sour. His mind was racing with the sort of paranoid thoughts Charlie tended to assume.

  “Our mission is on Uusa. Uusa, the home planet? Here?” Ed questioned again, his long, thick lashes blinking in wide-eyed disbelief—orders for the royal children generally involved capturing some frontier or another. Yet, here he was at dispatch, sitting in the familiar private office, getting orders that seemed insane. Standing, he crossed the room to look at the briefing wall. It displayed Uusa and a close-up of midwestern Callie, the second-largest nation in the Thirteen by landmass on Uusa, largest if measured by dry land.

  Most nations in the Thirteen had open borders with the others, though there were some rules. Callie had many special security rules. It was a nation of werewolves and other similar peoples, polymorphs, and various chimeras. While the born-were had complete control of their mental facilities, the bitten, as few as there were, did not. Worse yet, the bitten would compulsively attack anyone who wasn't werefolk during the relevant full moon (determining the exact planet(s) and moon(s) could become complicated if the bite occurred off planet or if the bitten traveled).

  Worse yet, the curse kept them from accepting they were cursed. If a bitten-were left Callie the curse would spread uncontrollably. It was a curse that killed most and only turned one human in ten. The other races and species would simply, yet painfully, die from the curse. The born werefolk could travel freely, the bitten were registered and kept within the borders of Callie and Atlan. While technically it is legal for all to enter Callian territory, it is an enter at one's own risk situation. Laws protect the bitten-were within Callie and Atlan in the event of an incident. The mandatory quarantine period for all humans exiting Callie was oppressive, but necessary, as no test was accurate enough to meet safety regulations. Callie, and to a lesser extent, the aquatic underwater nation of Atlan, were too dangerous to host a tourist industry.

  “One has to wonder why ye are so doubtful of the dispatch office. It's almost as if someone informed ye of this mission yesterday and ye have little faith,” Teddy stated as if he was part of the conversation and didn't have two slates open in the air before him. His fingers danced across the silver rectangles quickly, and he didn't look up from his multiple tasks as he spoke. If one didn't know any better, one would think he wasn't paying attention.

  Countering with annoyance, Ed snapped, “Well, excuse me for being sane. Callie is a member of the Thirteen—a valued nation. We can't just go into their homeland —the center of their society —and spy on them. We're not Hassassani, we're knights! It's illegal. This mission violates tons of laws. That isn't who we are. If people knew they'd lose all trust in the institution.”

  “Excuse me, sir. A point of order. This mission was personally directed and authorized by His High Majesty, the High King and Emperor of the Thirteen Nations United Under High Mountain. You will be leading a cartography mission, not a spying mission. While cartography is normally illegal in Callian Territories, the authorization does not apply when our wise ruler directs something to be so,” corrected the dispatcher, with the air of a perfect customer service representative. “Your team is also being assigned a staff cartographer.” She won the tournament to join your coterie's support staff. Now that you have a second knight, you'll be expected to handle your own permanent support staff. I sent over the budget earlier this morning as requested.”

  “The cartographer is not the issue, and I didn't request any support staff. It's the place where we're bringing the cartographer. It's illegal to map Callie! If they find out, it could start a rebellion. Callie may be the largest food producer, but they are also the experts in terraforming. If Callie goes, Atlan, Lune, and probably Artibagh follow. We just finished with the Decion rebellion, and they are way less durable than the Callians,” reasoned Ed anxiously as he worried about what may happen to him. He did not want to go into Callie and risk killing the bitten. He especially didn't want to break their laws near Callue, a capital city (Callie has four “capitols” which change with the season, Callue is the spring capital).

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The werefolk were unnaturally gifted in magic, with regeneration and vast pools of magic at their disposal; they were a force to be reckoned with. They rejected modern mechnology and technology, relying on ancient magics fueled by their overwhelming power. It was impossible to photograph the country from space because its overpowering protective magics prevented it. The only way to make a map was on the ground with a cartographer.

  “Article 1 of the Callie-High Mountain treaty of 12,345 provides royals of High Mountain immunity,” supplied Sir Acogson helpfully, “And I already completed the prerequisite paperwork. See, I added your mark there. Could we hurry on? The bakery Stone favors is hosting a pop-up event, and I still need to install Susan's crystal in ours.

  Eyes wide with rage, Prince Edward accusingly complained, "This is from last week! You put this request in for me last week!"

  "Well, ye hadn't. A good cartographer is essential to ensuring Stone's time is optimized. It's not as if I didn't give thee a grace period to correct the coterie's inaddequacy," replied the blue knight nonchalantly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do.

  Towering behind him, his oversized lackey nodded general agreement menacingly. The electric blue eyes under the heavy brow shone with confidence that the mission was legal and just. Aside from size and equipment, the pair hadn't changed since they were children. Teddy would talk irrational nonsense as if it were gospel, and Stone would forcefully agree.

  Stepping forward with his hand out, Sir Acogson did what he usually did: effortlessly took charge, “We are pleased to have Cartographer Susan Atlace join as a member of our support staff. Her amanofuchigoma, if ye please?”

  Seeing the chance to resolve the situation, the cute dispatcher grinned and handed him the crystal. The relief that rushed off her made Ed feel a bit guilty. With her perky voice, she excitedly commented, “I can't believe it's your first time in the dispatch office! How did you know Cartographer Atlace was a Decion crystal dweller? You're so smart!” That was her mistake. She clearly didn't deal with many Mechmians, who tended to be brutally honest with no concept of tact.

  As if bored, the man replied, “I'm Mechmian. Ye compliment to my intelligence is akin to an amoeba saying as much to someone five times as intelligent as ye. Most cartographers are Decion crystal dwellers. They have a knack for that sort of magic. Not to mention, the tournament was broadcast universally. It wasn't exciting this year as Cartographer Atlace won so handily that it seemed rather unfair to the others. The tournament for Prince Philip's cartographer position was much more interesting, though I daresay the quality of cartographer participants was much lower.”

  “I'm sorry about him,” Ed added, glaring at his companion, “The insult was uncalled for.”

  For his part, Teddy seemed confused, “What insult? I was merely explaining that there is a reason Mechmians are not included in the intelligence metrics that include all other sentient life.”

  Groaning and rolling his eyes, Ed brushed him off like he'd seen so many others do, “He's Mechmian.”

  “Oh, it's alright. Mechmians are all like that. You know what they say, if a Mechmian isn't insulting you, then they're not telling the truth,” laughed the girl in reply. “Frankly, it's a much nicer reply than I was expecting. I like to tease them a bit and keep a record of the more interesting replies. That whole wall of plants was gifted to me to counter the oxygen I waste.”

  Part of Ed wanted to know what the dispatcher was honestly thinking, but if truth be told, he was enjoying not knowing. The constant hum of Sir Acogson's powerful brain blocked out all other thoughts. It took getting used to, but it made life more exciting, though less risque. It was fun to guess another person's thoughts like a normal person. Of course, having heard standard thoughts, Ed had a reasonably good guess. However, most dispatchers who dealt with royals and azure knights were handpicked for their psychic resistance.