Topic: Red Tape

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2008-01-10 20:36 EST
January 10, 9:00 a.m.
Rhydin Courthouse

Glenn had finished work on the last of his major holiday projects the previous night, and had rewarded himself with an ale at the Red Dragon Inn. Of course, his quiet, pleasant evening with his drink and a volume of poetry was interrupted by the entrance of a pirate, but while he was beating a hasty retreat back to his barn, he spotted a lone newsboy, selling copies of the Oracle. It had been a cold night, and the boy looked like he needed the money a lot more than Glenn did, so the carpenter had purchased a copy of the paper and tipped the lad an extra silver for his troubles.

While most of the content had left him feeling indifferent or exasperated, the lead story on the front page, as well as the section in the middle, had piqued his interest. Apparently, if these stories were correct (which Glenn had little reason to doubt they were), there was an election coming up, for the governor of the realm. He'd read the interviews with some of the candidates, and the question and answer segments with the others, and he...was intrigued. Does this election mean anything, or is it just something to keep the citizens in line? he thought. Back home, government was pretty much out of the common citizens' hands. Oh sure, there was a legislative branch, and citizens got to elect members to one of the lower houses of that branch. But the higher house, the house that had more power, consisted entirely of the nobility. And the nobility, by and large, was selected by the Duke or Duchess of Blackbridge. And everyone knew, but few people mentioned it out loud, that the Duchy took his or her cues from the Archbishop of Sol, the head of the Church of Sol in Blackbridge. The leaders of Blackbridge usually stayed out of their citizens' affairs, but the government did what it could to keep itself in power and to keep information they deemed ?blasphemous, sacrilegious, or otherwise inappropriate? out of the hands of the people, although this behavior was usually not extended to those merchants visiting the country. This led some citizens to grumble about being ?second-class citizens in their own homes,? but none dared to grumble too loud, lest the wrong ears hear those words.

Who knew if things were different in Rhydin? There was only one way to find out. Glenn wasn't certain who he was going to vote for, but he wanted to vote. Unfortunately, he didn't know how voting worked here. Where was he supposed to vote? What time did they allow people to vote at? What choices did he really have? He made a beeline for the Rhydin Public Library, and after convincing the librarians who were about to close the building for the night that he was not, in fact, a thief, he figured out where he needed to go next. To the Rhydin Election Commission, headquartered in the Rhydin Courthouse's basement.

***

After Glenn completed his morning chores, and ate a quick but refreshing breakfast of peanut butter and apple slices between two pieces of brown bread, he headed north towards the city. Once at the southern edge of Rhydin City, he hailed a carriage to take him to the courthouse.

Glenn had been by the courthouse a few times last year, when he'd been working his old job, so the large crowd standing outside the otherwise nondescript building was surprising to him. He knew it had been out of commission for a while, and it had reopened just before he had struck out on his own, but this was far and away the most people he had ever seen there. Elves, dwarves, humans, drow, and all other manner of species were patiently lining up (with the help of the watchful eyes of a pair of City Guardsmen) into a queue that seemed to go out the courthouse's front doors and onto the sidewalk. As Glenn approached the line, he heard snatches of conversation, spoken in countless tongues, most of which he didn't understand. He could occasionally pick out the names of candidates that he had read about when he heard them, but little else. Fortunately for him, the man at the end of the line appeared to be human, and about Glenn's age as well, although he was taller and muscular and was wearing the outfit of a longshoreman. Glenn mustered up the courage to tap the man on the shoulder.

?If you're askin' if you can cut in line, answer's no, bud.? Glenn vigorously shook his head no.

?No, no, no. What's the line for anyways??

?You stupid or something? This's the line to register to vote in the pri-pri- the first election. Tomorrow through the 15th. ?

?The primary?? Glenn asked.

?Yeah, that's it. Everyone and his mother's here to register. Gonna be a while before we're up, bud.? Glenn sighed loudly, and steeled himself mentally for the long, boring wait.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2008-01-11 22:07 EST
January 10, 11:55 a.m.
Rhydin Election Commission, Courthouse Basement

By the time Glenn had finished waiting, all the time he had spent on his feet with little to no movement had turned his legs to jelly. When he finally made inside the building and into the lobby of the Rhydin Election Commission's office, he had wanted to sit down, but all the seats had been taken long before he'd arrived inside, so he was forced to continue to stand. And suffer. Even though there was a long desk and three receptionists working, the place was a mess. Phones were ringing off the hook, and one or two of the patrons had decided to bring their children with them, which meant the sound of complaining citizens was nearly drowned out by the sound of wailing babies and boys roughhousing on the coffee tables, spilling and shredding magazines everywhere. The lobby would have been nice, if still a little rundown, if only half the people currently there would disappear. Granted, the walls needed a fresh coat of white paint, and the ceiling bowed in places where old water damage hadn't been fully repaired (in fact, there was a bucket near the receptionists' desk to catch water from one of the pipes that was still leaking). But the furniture ? several waiting room chairs upholstered in a simple orange-colored cloth fabric, made out of equally simple yet strong oak ? was all still in one piece, even if it was battle-scarred from run-ins with puking kids, cigarettes, and general dirt and grime. Chunks of wood had been knocked out of the some of the cherry-stained coffee tables, and all of them bore the scuffs of abuse and lack of furniture polish, but they all stood on four legs and held whatever was placed upon them. The lobby was lit by dim fluorescent lights that seemed to periodically waver in intensity, but at least the lights seemed to stay on. On most days, the undersized lobby would best be described as cozy. Today, it seemed more akin to a doctor's office. Or a madhouse.

Glenn waited patiently for his number to be called, trying as best he could to avoid some of the more...pungent odors emanating from some of the less well-off citizens waiting with him. Finally, when it seemed like he could wait no longer, he heard his name, and was motioned towards a door near the back of the lobby. Pushing his way through the throng of people, he finally made it back to where the commission's offices actually were. For once, he was thankful he was short; apparently they had not fully finished the restoration here, and there were exposed pipes hanging at what would be head height for a taller person. The receptionist, a bored-looking human woman who looked to be in her mid-40s, walked him to the office he was supposed to go to, waited until he was seated, and promptly walked back to the lobby. He found the receptionist's appearance unmemorable because the person in the office he had been directed to immediately grabbed his attention.

Even compared to Glenn's usual clothing choices, this man appeared to have zero sense of fashion. He was wearing an all-corduroy three-piece suit. The vest, suit-coat and his slacks were all the same, hideous shade of brown. To make matters worse, he wore a black tie and white-and-black checked dressed shirt underneath. The man's head was down, reading through what appeared to be a gigantic encyclopedia volume, showcasing his futile attempt to add body to his rapidly thinning black hair with gel. At Glenn's approach, he looked up, and Glenn's attention was suddenly removed from the man's clothing. His skin, though pale, seemed dry and almost scaly to the woodworker, and his eyes were also odd. Narrower and smaller than most, they were colored a peculiar yellow-green hue, and the pupils were vertical slits instead. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Glenn also noticed his tongue was forked and a more brilliant red shade than most tongues were. He spoke in a voice that was oddly sibilant. He was seated behind a small desk covered in papers, with two baskets equally crammed full. On every side of him were bookshelves, stuffed full of various tomes and government reports. The office was cramped; Glenn didn't think they could fit another person in there if they tried.

?What bringsss you here today? Let me guesss. You want to regissster for the elecssshun.?

?I guess. I didn't know I had to register until today.? The man seemed to snort in response, although it came out sounding more like a hiss.

?I sssee. Hold on one sssecond.? Suddenly, he reached across the table and tried to touch Glenn's forehead. The carpenter saw the underside of his wrist, where some of the scales seemed to be shedding, and recoiled. ?Hold ssstill. I am only an elecssshun offissshul. I'm not trying to harm you.? At that, Glenn relaxed a little, but still eyed the snakeman warily. The man simply reached across the table and finally managed to touch Glenn's forehead. He then touched the book he had been looking at previously and closed his eyes. For a moment, Glenn thought he had fallen asleep, but the eyelids quickly snapped open again.

?Glenn Krissstophe Woodwright, of the country of Blackbridge, from the realm of Palurin. Our recordsss indicate that you are ssstill a citizen of Blackbridge.?

?What?? An incredulous look crossed Glenn's face.

?In accordance with the treatiesss Rhydin'sss government has made with the government of Blackbridge, any citizen of Blackbridge who wissshesss to renounce their citizenssship mussst fill out an emigration form and sssubmit it to usss and the Blackbridge government. Our recordsss indicate that you did not do thisss.?

?What? I didn't know I had to.?

?Oh, it'sss all very clear. Here.? The official thumped the book with his hand.

?Let me see that.?

?Unfortunately, accesss to thisss book isss limited to usss government officials. But I can ssshow you what we have on file for you.? With that, the man opened the volume up, seemingly turning to a random page. In an ornate script, Glenn's name, gender, and country of residence were written. Those were the only sections completed. There appeared to be areas where Glenn could give his date of birth, family, organ donor status, hair color, eye color, and countless other facts about himself. All those blanks were empty.

?Well, can I fill out that form here?? The snakeman shook his head no.

?Unfortunately, you will have to sssee the Blackbridge Embassy. It isss located-? and the man closed his eyes and touched the book again, before opening them and looking back to Glenn. ?two blocksss sssouth of here.? The man grabbed a pen and paper and quickly scribbled the address. ?If you can get me the form by the end of the day tomorrow, I ssshould be able to regissster you to vote.?

?I'll try. Thanks for your help. Have a nice day.? Glenn sighed loudly, then stood up.

?You too. Hope to sssee you sssoon.? Glenn nodded to that, then headed out the office door.

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2008-01-13 18:48 EST
January 10, 1 p.m.
Blackbridge Embassy

After his discussion with the official from the Rhydin Election Commission, Glenn had stopped by the Stitch In Time to meet up with Carley. The two ate a quick lunch of burgers and fries, and Glenn vented some of his frustration to her about the run-around he had gotten so far from the commission. Carley had seemed somewhat indifferent to the election, and the idea that the governor could somehow make a difference. She was also curious as to why Glenn was so interested in voting anyways. Glenn briefly explained the way his government ran, and the major problems it had faced. Carley then explained to a wide-eyed Glenn that Rhydin's government was pretty much non-existent for the longest time, and that the current governor was the first real public official with lasting power in a long time. The history of Rhydin before that was a series of power grabs and fast fades into oblivion by people who got too drunk on power. Even so, and even though Carley had scoffed at the notion, Glenn told her that that history only made him want to try even harder to help set up a working government. After lunch, they parted ways and Glenn headed for the address listed on the paper given to him earlier.

The closer and closer Glenn got to his destination, the more and more confused he became. He didn't see anything resembling the embassies of his home world. No fancy architectural marvels, no soaring vertical buildings, not even a simple office structure or store front. No, he was walking through a neighborhood. A residential neighborhood. With apartment buildings and small houses scattered here and there. At any moment, he expected the tranquility of these residences to give way to the familiar hustle and bustle of the city, but before that could happen, Glenn stopped. He looked down at the paper, than over at the address plaque posted to the wooden stake that had previously held up a mailbox. The remnants of said mailbox lay next to it, detached and significantly dented by a blow from some blunt object. He triple-checked the address, and it was still the same as the one on the paper. Maybe they're playing some kind of joke on me? Glenn thought. The building in front of Glenn looked nothing like any chancery he'd ever seen, even though he hadn't seen too many. It was a house, for crying out loud! With a picket fence, small grassy yard, a porch, and off-yellow clapboard siding. No way the embassy for his country was located here. Despite that thought, though, Glenn walked up to the patio and knocked on the screen door. He heard voices murmuring inside, and footsteps that grew louder until they stopped, as the front door was opened. A middle-aged woman, wearing a simple brown calico dress, answered the door. She looked down at Glenn with warm brown eyes, even as she folded her muscular arms. Yep, she's definitely from Blackbridge, Glenn thought.

?Can I help you??

?I'm, uh, looking for the Blackbridge Embassy, but I think someone gave me bad directions.? She unfolded her arms, scratched her silver hair, and looked at Glenn with surprise.

?This is the place.? She waved him inside. ?Come in, come in. Would you like some green tea?? Glenn nodded as he stepped inside, looking very confused. The living room was simply decorated, with cream painted walls and white blinds on the windows. A sofa and love seat sat in the middle of the room, along with a zebrawood veneered coffee table. The woman walked down the hallway on the left, shouted something inaudible into another room, and then walked back through the living room to the hallway on the right. Glenn shuffled his feet in place, not quite sure what to think. When the tea was finally completed, she came back out with the tray, teapot, and two saucers. She motioned with her head for Glenn to follow her back into the left hallway.

?Why is the embassy here??

?Well, there's not too much use for us here these days,? she said, moving much faster than Glenn expected her to with a full tray. ?Mostly, we just help out merchants and traders who've traveled from Blackbridge to here. Give them the tariff rates, explain what's legal and illegal to sell here, handle all the rules and paperwork for things like that. The last time we saw anybody for that, though, was six months ago. We had to switch to only opening part-time about, oh, 10 years ago. Not enough people came to be open all the time. What brings you here today?? He nervously tugged on his mittens.

?Well, I'm from Blackbridge, and I had a couple of questions about citizenship.? She looked at him skeptically.

?Really? You seem kind of...short.? Glenn bristled a bit, but tried to respond as civily as possible.

?Well, not everyone in Blackbridge is as tall as you'd think. Even if you don't count the elves.?

?And we try not to,? she replied, with a smile that made Glenn turn away, lest his disgust be visible to her. They finally stopped in front of a shut oak door on the far left side of the front of the house. She kicked at the door with her foot a couple of times, until it opened. While the woman had been about 3-4 inches taller than Glenn, this man easily had a half a foot on the carpenter. He wasn't quite as rugged and muscular as most of the men back home, but his physique still put Glenn's to shame, and the clothes he wore were also instantly recognizable as Blackbridgean. A red and black checked flannel shirt, jeans with mud and grass stains all over the knees, and scuffed-up calf-high black boots. From the head up, though, the man looked more cerebral. He wore a pair of black wire-frame glasses over hazel eyes, and his own thinning grey hair was pulled back into a ponytail that went about half-way down his neck. The woman kissed the man briefly, then nodded towards Glenn.

?He's here to see you about the embassy. Something about citizenship or something.? The man immediately reached his hand out to shake Glenn's.

?Name's Conley. What can I do for you today??

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2008-01-14 21:19 EST
While the office at the Rhydin Election Commission had been small, cramped, and spartan in its design, Conley's office was none of these things. It was spacious, well-lit, clean, and finely furnished. Oversized bay windows let the sunlight in, filtered through alabaster-colored drapes. The walls were painted an equally muted shade of ivory, at least where one could see the walls. Most of the wall space was dominated by tall mahogany bookshelves. A quick glance over at them revealed they were meticulously filed in order, by type and by author's last name, and that Conley had even obtained novels to read. There were also a couple of glass-doored cabinets with additional shelving. Glenn peeked inside and saw several miniature ships in a bottle: galleons, barques, caravels, and an equal number of designs that were utterly alien to him. The desk sat in the center of the room, pushed back a little from the door but still a good distance away from the windows. The floor in the office was hardwood flooring, a dark walnut that contrasted nicely with the white shades that dominated the rest of the room. Equally impressive was the red afghan that was draped over most of the floor. Even though he hadn't seen one before, Glenn knew instinctively from glancing down at it that the intricate patterns on the carpet meant it had cost Conley a pretty penny. Glenn debated whether or not to ask the diplomat if the government had paid for this or if Conley had, but he just shook his head no once slowly and decided not to. He looked up at Conley, smiled faintly, and took the man's hand. Glenn was glad the handshake was brief, because it felt like Conley was actively trying to crush his hand.

?Glenn Woodwright. Nice to meet you. I'm here about the, uh, emigration form??

Conley's wife set the tray down on the desk, smiled at the two men, and quickly shuffled out of the study, shutting the door behind her. Conley walked behind his desk and sat down, gesturing for Glenn to do the same with the chair in front of the desk. Glenn plopped down as well, then reached for the pot and one of the teacups. He poured himself some green tea, sipped it, and smiled, before setting the drink back down.

?Woodwright, like, the furniture sellers? What brought you out this way??

?Yeah, but my dad died a couple of years ago. I ran the store for a little while, but I decided to sell it and come out here. Fresh start and all.?

?It's a shame. So there're no more Woodwrights selling furniture in Blackbridge?? Glenn shook his head. Conley nodded, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and then shot Glenn a funny look. ?How long have you been in Rhydin, Glenn??

?Almost a year now.?

?And you didn't fill out an emigration form when you left??

?Uh, no. I was in a bit of a hurry.?

?I see. You really were supposed to do that, but I suppose we can let that slide now.? With that, Conley started opening and shutting various drawers in his desk, rifling through papers, and shaking his head. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a booklet and handed it to Glenn.

?I need to fill all this out?? Glenn asked, eyes widening a touch.

?Not all of it. Form's just 5 pages. The rest's instructions, warnings on the penalties of forgery and perjury, the usual stuff. Are you in a hurry to get this done??

?Well yeah,? Glenn responded somewhat testily. ?I need to fill this out in order to become a Rhydin citizen.?

?And why do you want to do that?? Conley pressed further.

?I want to vote in the elections here. For governor and stuff like that.?

?You're aware that the form has to be sent to the emigration and election offices back home, right?? Glenn nodded. ?And you're aware that mail service between Blackbridge and Rhydin takes a long time?? At those words, Glenn slumped in his seat.

?Yeah. I haven't heard back from any of the friends I wrote back home yet. I guess I wasn't expecting it to get there before the primaries, but is there any way I could possibly get it there before the main election? The middle of February or so?? His jade green eyes pleaded with Conley, but to no avail.

?I'll do my best, but it's probably going to take a few months at least. I don't think you're going to be voting in this election, Glenn. I'm sorry.?

?It's alright,? Glenn said, trying to sound a little upbeat about it. ?I'll get it here tomorrow anyway, and you can do the best you can to get out there as fast as possible. Will you let me know when you send it, and when you get word back from the government??

?Of course I will. You give me your address, and I'll send you a letter when everything's all set. Or you can stop by here if you have any more questions. Do you have any more questions today??

?No, I think I'm alright,? Glenn said as he stood up. He reached across the desk again, receiving one last bone-crushing handshake from Conley. ?Thanks for all your help.?

?No problem. I look forward to seeing you again, Glenn.? The carpenter nodded, as he headed for the door of the study and exited. Once Glenn was gone, Conley rested his elbows on the desk and looked down. He removed his glasses, set them down, and started massaging his temples.

?What am I supposed to do now?? he said to himself, frustration evident in his voice. ?How am I supposed to deal with this??

Imrathion Tathar

Date: 2008-01-24 12:31 EST
Conley waited a few minutes, until he was certain Glenn had left, before he called out.

?Alana! Come here! I need to talk to you.? While Conley waited, he picked up his cup of tea, long abandoned, and sipped at it. A moment later, Alana came in, smoothing the sides of her calico dress.

?What is it?? Alana immediately saw the frustrated look on his face, and frowned in return. ?What's wrong??

?Did something seem...weird about that guy who just came in??

?Glenn? Not really. He seemed a bit short, but nice.?

?He's one of the Woodwrights,? Conley said, shaking his head. Alana's brown eyes popped wide open.

?What's he doing here?? Alana's question led Conley to rub his temples more fiercely.

?I have no idea. He said he sold the store and moved out here about a year ago.? Conley paused, turning the thought over in his head, before he continued. ?I can't remember the last time we had someone from Blackbridge emigrate here. It never happens. Especially not someone that well thought of in the business community.?

?Do-do you think something bad happened over there? Another pirate attack, maybe?? Conley shook his head.

?Even that didn't make people leave. The last I heard, which was six months ago, all they said was 'Here's your money, everything's going alright.' Of course, it wasn't nearly enough to keep things running the way we used to,? Conley muttered, then drank some more tea. Alana looked at him for a moment, before she spoke up, hesitantly.

?What are you going to do?

?Well, technically, I could have him arrested for not filling out the emigration form, but I don't think that would really work. That's kind of a weird law, and I don't think the government here would be too thrilled at us arresting people on their land. And what would we do once we had him? We don't have a prison here.? Conley waved a hand around in a circle. ?If they gave us more money, this wouldn't be a problem. We could send everything to Blackbridge by magical courier, ask them for more money and an investigator, and it'd be out of our hands.?

?We could borrow the money? The kids are on their own now, and our house's been paid off for a while.? Conley started tapping at his forehead, than gave a single, slow nod of his head to Alana.

?That could work. But I have a better idea, I think.?

?What?? Alana's brown eyes searched Conley's hazel irises for the answer.

?If we can find out if there's anything strange with this guy on our own, we can send it back home and ask them to pay us back. And send more money and people if we need them.?

?But who are we going to get to do that??

?That's what I'm going to have to find out.? And with that, Conley started opening and shutting the drawers on his desk again, looking through countless files for the exact one he was searching for.