Jurisdiction: None Accepted
Summary: Internal review of an attempted service of process upon a Sovereign Entity. No billable increments were accrued. God help us if they had been.
Jake had a clipboard. That alone was enough to make Howard reach for the heavy wrench.
Howard didn't look up from Hopper #2, but he tracked the movement: the printed forms, the fresh ink, and the whiteboard Trent had wheeled into the grease-stained light of the bay.
The whiteboard read: CAN WE LITIGATE THE GENTRY?
"No," Howard said.
Jake ignored him. He had discovered a Notice of Inquiry Template on a dormant state (.gov) website and had spent the morning "optimizing" it. The header now screamed in bold, 14-point Serif:
NOTICE OF DRAINAGE DISPUTE TO: THE SEELIE COURT (WESTERN MARCHES) RE: UNLAWFUL RUNOFF CLASSIFICATION (NON-MORTAL)
Trent adjusted his glasses and added a line with a dying marker. "Needs more teeth. Add a jurisdictional hook."
Jake nodded and scribbled:
SERVICE EFFECTUATED AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE IRON AND THE ELM.
Howard stopped wrenching. The silence in the shop became heavy. "Don't tape that to the door, Jake."
Jake taped it to the door.
Nothing happened. Jake folded his arms, a smirk forming. "See? Total myths. It’s just property law—"
A wind rolled through the open bay. It didn't smell like the parking lot; it smelled like crushed ferns and a thousand years of rot. The paper peeled off the door, hovered, and slid across the concrete, stopping precisely on the thin line where the shop’s shadow met the afternoon sun.
The fluorescent lights didn't flicker. They groaned, shifting an octave lower into a frequency that made Howard’s teeth ache.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
A figure unfolded from the dust. It was tall—too tall for the ceiling—and composed of twilight, old wood, and the memory of a predator. It looked at the paper. It looked at Jake.
"WHO DARES ISSUE WRIT AGAINST THE GROVE?" The voice sounded like a tree splitting in a storm.
Jake turned the color of unbaked dough. Trent whispered, "Holy shit, it worked."
"No," Howard groaned, dropping his wrench. "It really didn't."
The shop door didn't open so much as it ceased to be an obstacle.
Halloway entered first, adjusting his cufflinks. Stonebriar followed, his eyes as cold as a deposition in February. Moonwrit trailed behind, already unscrewing a fountain pen that seemed to drink the light.
Stonebriar didn't look at the Fae. He looked at the paper.
"Improper service," Stonebriar said. His voice was a flat, lethal monotone.
"We served them!" Jake yelped, pointing a trembling finger. "It’s on the line!"
Moonwrit sighed, a sound like a closing tomb. "You attempted a delivery. You did not effectuate service."
The Fae messenger bristled, its wooden fingers elongating into talons. "THE THRESHOLD ACCEPTED THE CHALLENGE. THE BOUNDARY IS CROSSED."
Halloway stepped forward, his suit perfectly pressed despite the supernatural gale. "The boundary is a municipal easement, you overgrown shrub. My clients are using a template for a Grade-B Water District. You are a Sovereign Court of the First Magnitude."
Moonwrit added, "There is no parity of standing. There is no reciprocal discovery agreement."
Stonebriar concluded, "And the font is Comic Sans. It’s a nullity."
The Fae messenger leaned in, its breath smelling of ancient winters. "THE GROVE DOES NOT RECOGNIZE YOUR 'MUNICIPAL' DEFENSES."
Stonebriar reached into his folio and produced a small, heavy metal stamp. He didn't hit the paper; he hit the air above the paper.
THUD.
The sound echoed like a gavel in a cathedral. Glowing frost bloomed across the concrete, forming jagged, terrifying letters:
VOID FOR DEFECTIVE SERVICE
The Fae messenger recoiled as if burned. The green light in its eyes flickered. "THE GROVE... ACKNOWLEDGES THE ATTEMPT."
"The Billables Court does not," Halloway said sharply. "Go back to your woods. If you linger, we’ll move for a Summary Judgment on your existence."
The messenger dissolved into a swirl of dead leaves and vanished. The shop lights returned to their normal, cheap yellow hum.
Jake looked crushed. "We almost sued a fairy queen."
Moonwrit capped her pen. "You almost created a billable event involving a non-linear timeline."
Jake blinked. "Is that worse?"
Stonebriar looked him dead in the eye. "Our hourly rate for temporal litigation involves years of your life you haven't lived yet. Yes, it is worse."
Halloway paused at the door, his shadow stretching long across the grease-stained floor. "Do not serve sovereign courts, Jake. You aren't fast enough to handle the paperwork."
"What if they serve us?" Jake asked.
Moonwrit didn't turn around. "Pray we’re on retainer."
They left. The gravel outside didn't crunch under their shoes.
Jake turned to Howard. "We need better lawyers."
Howard crawled back under the hopper, his hands finally stopping their shake. "We have the best lawyers in the world, Jake."
"They're terrifying."
"Exactly."