“Sir, how long are you going to keep the mandatory overtime for the research department?” The head of research asked, fatigue tainting her words.

  “For as long as necessary!” The spectacles-wearing catkin declared, his ears defiantly erect.

  “Sir... it's been over three weeks, and all you gave us were a vague order for us to 'Look into diseases and conditions most often displayed by ruin delvers.'”

  “Indeed!”

  “But... why?”

  “Because my daughter has a friend that delves, a very important one, and we must be ready when she seeks my help once more!” The catkin explained, one hand in his back, one hand waving a finger around.

  “I... we...” She sighed and leaned in. “Cornelius, look, everyone's tired. We can keep working on this, but at least stop the doubled shifts, or you're going to have a revolt on your hands.”

  Cornelius the All Brew, from his entire five and a half feet, narrowed his eyes at his old friend Mahala, ears lowering. “A revolt, truly?”

  “Look, I might be exaggerating a bit, but the staff is grumbling a lot. They don't understand why we've been pulling double shifts for three weeks straight on a senseless search for rare and mostly undocumented diseases.”

  Cornelius's face scrunched, pensive, the tip of his tail flicking.

  “I see. It is a lack of understanding. Follow me!” He said as he marched to the research department.

  Mahala wasn't able to get another word in, trotting behind the small maniac.

  He slammed open the doors to the department and stepped onto the closest surface that gave him a few inches in height: A chair.

  The research staff, in various states of exhaustion, went silent and turned their gazes to their boss.

  “Attention research staff! It has come to my attention that you are adrift within your duties and question my orders. As you know, questioning my orders is not part of your contract, but I shall nonetheless provide you with direction!”

  He surveyed his audience, and was pleased to see he had their full attention.

  “My daughter has a friend who delves. We must be ready to meet her needs, should she ever be afflicted by another disease such as the Delver's Rot. That is all.”

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  He hopped off the chair and made his way out, unaware of the assembled stares that bore into his retreating back.

  Mahala, shoulders slumping, waved a promise of further answers to the staff as she ran after Cornelius.

  A thought crossed her mind.

  “Did your daughter say her delver friend was a woman?”

  “Hmm? What do you mean?”

  “It could be a man.”

  The man stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards Mahala, abject terror on his face, his ears drooping to each side.

  “...Oh, no. I know that look, Cornel- CORNELIUS, WAIT!”

  But Cornelius had already bolted away, the flaps of his robes flopping behind him.

  A beautiful, tall, blonde-haired young woman kicked in Cornelius' study door.

  “DAD!”

  Cornelius spun towards his youngest daughter, a hand of relief over his heart.

  “Oh, Angeline, thank the founding gods you are here. I need your help to-”

  “Dad! The waystation contacted me! You asked them to find out where Niala's letter came from! You swore you wouldn't!”

  Cornelius blinked, puzzled. “Well, yes, but that was before I knew of this crisis!”

  “WHAT crisis, dad?!”

  “Niala's friend, the one she begged me to help save! It might be a man!” He exclaimed, his voice strained, ears bent backward.

  She facepalmed, mumbling something about an idiotic father, before walking up to him and grabbing hold of his disheveled robe and straightening it out.

  “Dad, listen to me. It's probably a man, and Niala is probably in love with him- AND- don't interrupt me- it's going to be fine.”

  He looked up at his daughter, eyes wide, as his mouth raced to catch up to his mind. “Bu- How can you say that! My daughter in a man's arms! What vile things will he do to her! I must rescue her this instant! There has to be a mercenary company for hire, I will go a-URK”

  Angeline pulled at his tie, halting his steps and keeping him in place. She bent down to level her eyes at him.

  “Dad, father. Let. It. Go.” She kept her stare on him until he looked away.

  “I... I will do my best.”

  “Not your best. You will let it go. Niala is a grown woman; she can take care of herself! And, when she comes to visit and brings that friend along, whether it's a man or woman or anything, you will be courteous, friendly, you will not stare daggers at them, and you will certainly not attempt to poison them.”

  She finished straightening his robes and combing his hair with her hand.

  “Do we have an understanding, dearest dad of mine?” She asked with a thin smile.

  He nodded.

  She smiled.