Page 44 of Her Orc Protector

"Was there a particular aspect of the charter you're interested in?" I asked as I searched the labels at the bottom of each page. "The language regarding boundaries, or perhaps the inheritance clauses?"

The man moved closer. "The dispute resolution mechanisms," he replied. "There's been a question raised about how conflicts between settlement rights and prior land claims were to be adjudicated."

“Then you'll want this one," I said, gently removing a document from the middle of the stack.

I laid it on the table and stepped back, allowing him space to examine it. The charter was written in formal language, the ink still dark against the cream parchment. The seal of Everwood—an alder tree surrounded by seven stars—was pressed into green wax at the bottom, alongside nine signatures.

He leaned over the document, eyes moving rapidly across the text. His finger traced a particular passage, and he made a small sound of satisfaction.

"Yes, this is what I needed. The wording about prior occupancy versus service recognition." He glanced up at me. "You're quite knowledgeable about these records."

I kept my expression neutral. "I've been assisting with the organization and preservation work."

He returned to the document, flipping to the second page where the specific provisions were detailed. I watched him read, my mind turning over the subject. There was something...

"If I may," I said suddenly, an old memory surfacing. "There might be another document of interest."

He looked up, eyebrows raised in polite inquiry.

I moved back to the shelves, scanning for a different collection. "There was an amendment proposed to that charter—not officially adopted, but formally recorded." My fingers found the right shelf, the right box. "It's mentioned in Councilor Merrick's annotations."

I retrieved a slim volume bound in brown leather—personal notes from one of Everwood's early post-war councilors. I'd seen it when helping Edwin restore damaged binding on several council journals.

Carefully, I opened the journal to the section I remembered, where Merrick had made extensive notes in the margins beside the official minutes.

"Here," I said, placing it beside the charter. "Merrick questioned the fairness of certain provisions in that same charter—specifically how transitional housing was allocated between returning soldiers and displaced families."

The man's eyes widened slightly as he scanned the densely written notes. "This is..." He paused, glancing up at me with new assessment in his gaze. "This is exactly the contextual nuance the current discussion requires. How did you know to connect these documents?"

I felt warmth rise to my face but kept my voice steady. "The cataloging system here is quite thorough. And I... I worked with historical documents before coming to Everwood."

The man studied me for a moment longer than was comfortable. "What did you say your name was?"

I hadn't. But standing here, surrounded by the orderly knowledge of the Archives, I felt steady enough to offer it.

"Issy Fairbairn," I said.

He nodded once, accepting this without comment. Then, he returned to the documents, examining both the charter and the annotations with renewed interest.

"Would you like me to prepare copies of these passages?" I offered, falling back on the practical. "I can have them ready within the hour."

"That won't be necessary," he replied, straightening. "I only needed to confirm the exact wording." He carefully closed both documents. "But I appreciate the offer, Miss Fairbairn."

I returned the journal to its place on the shelf, then carefully repackaged the charter folio, tying the green silk cord with the proper archival knot Edwin had taught me—loose enough not to stress the binding, tight enough to secure the contents.

"Is there anything else you require?" I asked, placing the folio back on its shelf.

The man reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew a small object. "No, you've been most helpful." He extended his hand, offering me what appeared to be a small brass token. "Please accept this as an acknowledgment of your assistance today."

I hesitated before taking it, my fingers closing around cool metal. The token was simple—a brass disc stamped with the seal of Everwood on one side and a wax impression on the other. The wax bore the mark of the Civic Council—a circle of seven linked rings.

"It's a recognition token," he explained, seeing my confusion. "The Council issues them to acknowledge particularly valuable service. It can be exchanged for a small stipend at the Hall of Records, if you wish. Or kept as a mark of appreciation."

I curled my fingers around it, feeling its weight. "Thank you."

He inclined his head slightly, then pulled his hood back up as he prepared to brave the rain once more. "I'll be sure to passalong my compliments to Archivist Fairweather. You're a credit to this institution."

With that, he turned and made his way back through the Archives. I followed at a respectful distance, watching as he opened the heavy oak door and stepped out into the gray afternoon. The door closed behind him with a solid thud, leaving me standing alone in the sudden quiet.

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