Turning his attention back to Bain, Riz's gaze softened with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you for surviving, Bain," he said, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "Had you not made it, I might still be in the dark about what transpired. You can rest now."
With a subtle gesture, Riz signalled to his staff, who moved forward to escort Bain out of the office.
The door closed behind them, leaving Riz and Alexander to continue their conversation in the wake of the unexpected events that had unfolded.
"What are you going to do, Your Majesty?" Alexander's inquiry broke the momentary silence, his gaze fixed on Riz with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.
Riz leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he contemplated the situation.
"I will send a letter to King Isaac," he finally answered, his voice carrying a determined undertone. For now, that's the best he could do.
Alexander nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And ask for his answer?"
Riz's gaze met Alexander's, his eyes steady. "Yes," he confirmed, "We don't know on what basis this incident happened in the first place. So, I'm going to hear his excuses first."
He reached for a paper and quill, his expression focused as he began to write a letter to King Isaac. His hand moved fluidly, words forming with purpose on the paper.
Once he finished writing, he carefully sealed the letter and rang the bell positioned within reach. The door to his office soon opened, and a member of his staff stepped in, her expression inquiring.
"Do you need something, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Riz nodded, handing over the sealed letter. "Send this letter to Inver immediately, make sure it reached safely in the hand of King Isaac. Also, arrange for someone to prepare a trip to the prison island for this man," he instructed.
She nodded in understanding. Without further ado, she carefully accepted the sealed letter from Riz's outstretched hand. Her fingers curled around the parchment as if holding a precious secret.
With a graceful curtsey, she turned on her heels and swiftly made her exit from the room, the delicate swish of her skirt the only sound accompanying her departure.
Riz's attention then shifted to Alexander, his expression thoughtful yet composed. "You can follow her, Alexander," he suggested, his tone carrying a blend of formality and hospitality.
He motioned toward the door, indicating that the diplomat was free to accompany the staff member on her journey to fulfil Riz's requests.
It was a subtle dismissal to Alexander that their conversation had concluded.
As Alexander rose from his seat, his gratitude was voiced with a touch of formality. "Thank you for hearing my request, Your Majesty."
Riz's response was measured and equally courteous. "No problem at all. We will continue our discussion once you return to Bideford," he affirmed.
With a final nod, Alexander turned to leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
The room now returned to a state of tranquillity. Riz's gaze shifted from the closed door to his desk, his focus resuming its position on the task at hand.
With a thoughtful sigh, he reached for the quill, a seemingly mundane tool that held a significant place in his daily activities.
As his fingers closed around the quill's slender form, his keen eyes noted the nib's worn appearance. The feathers that once bore the black ink were now showing signs of fraying and discolouration.
A small frown tugged at Riz's lips as he examined the quill's state. Its usefulness dwindled with each stroke it made.
"This one can no longer be used," he murmured, a note of frustration seeping into his voice before throwing the worn quill into the nearby trash bin.
Turning his attention to the drawer of his desk, Riz retrieved a new quill. The pristine feathers and unblemished nib held the promise of crisp lines and untainted ink.
As he began to dip the new quill into the inkwell, he complained on the challenges posed by using such traditional writing instruments.
"This is the problem when using quills," he mused, his voice tinged with a touch of ruefulness. "They for a couple of weeks and require frequent replacement. And the process of writing itself was a hassle. Too much pressure and the ink splatters. Too little, and the words appear faint. It depends on a balance between technique and tool which requires practice and patience."
As he speak his own thoughts out loud, his hand came to a sudden stop.
The quill poised above the paper. An idea had struck him with a sense of clarity—one that can improve the act of writing.
"Maybe I should create a more convenient and efficient writing instrument," he pondered.
Instead of waiting for others to figure out the solution, he can take the lead in solving a simple and not-so-complicated problem on his own.
The limitations of quills were clear to him. They required frequent dipping into inkwells, disrupting the flow of thought and introducing the risk of ink spills and smudges.
Riz's desire to address these issues led him to consider the introduction of a dip pen—an improvement to the quill. But, it's not quite the solution he was searching for.
His thoughts meandered before settling on the tool called a fountain pen, a writing tool that could hold a reservoir of ink, eliminating the need for constant dipping.
As usual, Riz temporarily abandon his real duty and began jotting down ideas.
Sketches of sleek pen designs, annotations about ink reservoirs, and even notes about potential materials to be used.
He drafted diagrams showcasing the inner workings of the pen, noting the positioning of various components.
He considered the mechanics of capillary action, envisioning a system where ink would flow to the nib of the pen as needed.
This led to the need of experimenting with different materials for the reservoir itself, assessing factors such as durability, flexibility, and the ability to maintain a steady flow of ink.
Materials and aesthetics played their part in his design. The imagine of the fountain pen that hovered in his mind was a polished metal for the pen's body, accented with fine wood for a touch of elegance.
As the sunlight bathed his workspace, Riz's designs on paper continue to evolve and mature.
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