A Message from Afar

James put down his pen and let out a long breath.

He had transcribed the entire speech into a business report and written it on special telegram billing paper. The report appeared to be about how knitting had become increasingly popular in the Duchy of Weissen. Everyone from Madame Weissen to the farm wives spent every spare moment knitting, and the yarn market was poised for major growth.

The telegraph office was open around the clock. James went there to send the telegram and paid a hefty fee.

On the way home, he thought, Maybe I should really put some effort into the yarn business?

The main reason was to make himself some money. He couldn't work as a spy forever; he would need enough to live comfortably in his old age.

The excuse for his superiors was simple enough. Madame Weissen was now knitting sweaters for the Grand Duke herself. If he had some high-quality wool yarn on hand, perhaps he could use it to get into the knitting salons of the Duchy of Weissen's noblewomen.

James returned home, sat down by the fireplace, and lit a fire. Its flames illuminated his impassive face.

The mission was done. Only then could he begin to think.

Perhaps it was time to consider his own future.

The next day, in the Kingdom of Angland, Prince Edward put down the full transcript of the speech. He gently pinched the bridge of his nose, then walked to the window.

Outside, the winter fog hung gray and hazy, carrying the smell of coal smoke. It was somewhat choking.

"Are you certain it's word for word?" he asked.

In the shadowed study, the intelligence officer bowed and replied, "Yes, Your Highness."

"We've cross-checked several copies of the telegram."

Edward picked up the report again and