"No, I'm not the Sovereign," I said. "Do I look like I can set things on fire with my emotions?"
The Guild official blinked. She had three quills, two scroll tubes, and the expression of someone who desperately wanted this to be someone else's problem. Unfortunately for both of us, it wasn't.
"I'm Quicktongue," I added, a little sharper. "Acting Voice of Ashring. Diplomatic lead. Coordinator of external negotiations. Also the only one who knows how to file without swearing at the paperwork."
She nodded like she understood. She didn't.
Since the Sovereign left, I've been doing everything except breathing on schedule.
Which is fine. I'm used to overwork. I'm good at delegation. What I'm not good at is Guild bureaucrats arriving with flameproof folders and asking if we've selected a national bird.
We haven't.
I told her it was probably going to be the soot-lizard.
She wrote that down.
The population's holding.
