Gunfire: The Powder

I took pity on Ryle and spun the paper at him, watching him catch it idly with his left hand.

On it were three words in the butler's formal lettering and one in my sister's tall, elegant script. The butler's words were simple - an abbreviated version of a motto Ryle would recognise instantly. A house of royal descent if not direct lineage. Worthy of note, steeped in history, yet a shadow of the power wielded by the Sterai-Poloskas of old.

Ryle folded the top over and showed me Cerian's writing with an expectant look. I considered explaining the codeword, but it had little relevance.

"Perhaps you should make that approach after all, Ryle."

Ryle took a moment to absorb that, then switched to his mischievous grin.

"Is that true, indeed. Well, what about your own happiness, friend?"