“Paperwork, the bane of all civilized societies.” - She-Who-Birthed-Two-Hundred, Elder Shaman of the Longear tribe of the Western Isles.

“Young Master Veroz, the Gospodin will see you and your guest now,” said the goat-therian secretary to the waiting pair of Cal and Igor. After a night’s rest, the rest of the group had gone to sightsee around town with Tal showing them around, while Cal went with Igor to meet the local governor and get their papers sorted out.

The Gospodin - a local title for the governor - of each of the three cities answered directly to the Erstgertsog him or herself, and were second only to them in power over the region. Each of them were also responsible over the immediate area surrounding their cities, taxation and tariffs, and the likes.

According to Igor, the governors of the three cities rotated each generation between several families, each of which had been vassals and allies of the Veroz family in the past, when they were still small groups of migrating tribes. The system kept the power rotating between those families, with the ones not currently in power acting as their assistants and helpers to support the one up top.

In general it kept the families satisfied, though from time to time an ambitious one would spring up within their lines. In such times, the Veroz family itself would lay down the law for them, and while there had been over a dozen and a half families in the past, only ten survived to the present day because of such incidents.

The current Gospodin of Rostem was old and neared the end of his reign, with the power scheduled to shift to a different family once he passed on or abdicated and retired. Like the others, his family too was once allies to the Veroz family.

“Uncle Al, nice to see you’re in good health,” said Igor when they were brought to the office where the Gospodin did his work. Igor had met the man in question often when he was younger and had considered him an uncle, despite the Gospodin’s age.

“You too, little one, though I guess you’re not so little anymore nowadays,” replied the man. The Gspodin of Rostem was an owl-therian, with feathers of white and gray, and a monocle over one of his large, piercing eyes. Cal still had a hard time telling age for ones of his kind, but had noticed that his feather looked rather sparse in places, probably a sign of age. According to Igor the man would be seventy-eight this year. “I see you brought a guest with you as well. Care to introduce us?”

“Certainly, Uncle. Madam Ambervale, this is Gospodin Al’anther McGregor of Rostem. Uncle, this is Dame Celeysria Ambervale of Al-Shan,” said Gregor as he did the introductions. The old therian man gave a polite bow in greeting, which Cal imitated. She had learned from Mallard that handshakes were not a common gesture among avian breeds of therian most of the time. “I’m accompanying her to get her papers sorted out.”

“Papers, hmm?” mumbled the therian man as he received the packet of papers from Igor. The papers were the various permits required for people to pass from Elmaiya to the western isles. Most of them had been handled by the young noble, but some required the approval of the Gospodin of Rostem.

The complicated paperwork was partly because of the recent issues with illegal poachers and hunters who abused their passes to do things they had not applied to do, which naturally drew the ire of the local tribes. As a result, the creation of permits were monitored more strictly than it used to be of late, in order to maintain good relations with the neighboring tribes.

It was one reason the papers and permits included things like a permission to hunt a limited amount of wildlife, and to purchase local specialties directly. Too many had abused the lack of such regulations in the past to buy specialties from the tribes just to sell them overpriced further east in the Empire, which cut down on the profits the tribes were supposed to receive by a lot. Similarly, illegal poachers had once endangered some of the tribes’ usual hunting grounds, which made them wary of outsiders.

Both the Gospodins of the three cities and the Veroz family had an agreement to the tribes that stated how only they were allowed to directly import their specialties to the Empire, in exchange to selling them at reasonable prices that still gave the tribals a worthwhile profit. The agreement was more like an alliance between tribes, rather than formal law, which was why some dared to try to break it for profits.

“This here… and here we go,” said the old therian while he stamped several of the papers with a stamp bearing the city’s emblem and handed it back to Cal. “There you go, Dame Ambervale. All your papers are in order and you are free to visit the Western Isles anytime in the next two years from today.”

“Many thanks, Gospodin. And you too, Igor,” said Cal as she accepted the papers. Igor would leave their group as he did not have the free time to join for a several month trip to the Western Isles, so he would head back to Verozgrad from Rostem.

“It was my pleasure, Ma’am,” replied Igor humbly from the side. “If it’s not too much trouble, please put in a good word for me next time you run into Professor McFowler.”

“Sure thing, kid, I can do that,” replied Cal to his request. She bade them farewell after a little bit more talk, and noticed how the secretary had already ushered in another guest to the Gospodin, clearly a busy man, that one.

The papers she received cleared the way for the rest of her trip, so she headed to the port area next. They would need a ferry to cross from Rostem to the Isles, and her priority was to find one large enough to take Lumi on board without difficulty.