Chronicle the Fifteenth · The Month of Difficulty
Do I Really Need Two-Factor Authentication?
The far lands keep a month of awareness each autumn, and this year they ask one small thing of everybody: do not make it easy for them. The court read the instruction twice, went very quiet, and then became extremely excited. Difficulty, subject. At last, a contest this kingdom is qualified to enter.
It is the ninth day of the Month of Difficulty and nobody can get into the castle, including everybody who lives in it. The council considers this an early lead.
The measures of the month
The kingdom already keeps two factors upon its accounts, a horse and a portcullis, and a subject must satisfy both. Nothing has logged in since March. When the month was proclaimed the council reviewed the arrangement, found it excellent, and left it alone. March has been entered in the record as our earliest triumph.
The gate password has been extended to four hundred characters. It is whispered to the clerk, and the herald who reads it aloud requires nine minutes, during which the watch changes, so no man who begins it is on duty when it ends. The court has not solved this. The court has scheduled it. The password is also changed every Wednesday, and no herald has yet finished saying the previous one.
Staple attends the gate as the second factor and has refused every soul presented to him. The learned confirm he has been correct in every case, on the grounds that he refuses everybody. He refused the Chancellor, from behind. He refused a cart of hay and then quietly reconsidered. He refused the King, whose submission has been sealed by royal order.
The Squire carries the four hundred characters in ink along his forearm and reaches the ledgers faster than anyone in the kingdom. He is not sorry. He has offered to do the same for others, and there is a queue. The court has not decided whether to stop him, since he is the only person currently getting anything done.
Concerning the brigand who never came to the gate
The learned arrived with a report nobody had asked for, which is their custom. A brigand has been through more than fifty households this year. He forced nothing at any of them, and no wall in the realm has a mark on it.
He did not steal the words. He bought them, over a counter, from the crooked end of the keysmiths' trade, who have never entered a building in their lives and will tell you so twice. They gave him a receipt.
The words were older than the sale. There is a magpie in the nobleman's hall. A magpie steals two things, the bright and the spoken, and this one has been taking his passwords since spring. He bought it cheap at the summer fair, from a man nobody has since been able to describe. It has his mother's maiden name as well. He is still delighted with it.
The brigand walked up to the storehouse where the nobleman keeps his scrolls and said the word, and the storehouse opened. It had only ever asked for a word. It opens in under a second, which the keeper considers its finest quality and mentions to visitors.
Fifty households, and not one record showing anything amiss, because nothing amiss occurred: the right word, said correctly, by a man who owned none of it.
"The second lock is not for keeping your word secret, sire," said the learned, to nobody who had asked. "It is for afterwards. Afterwards began some time ago."
The Chancellor was heard on this from the far end of the chamber, adjusting his chain. It was felt, he said, that a report of that kind would sit better after the month, when it could be given proper attention. The report was set aside, where it remains.
Dame Maud has a side door
Dame Maud has always had a side door. The court does not ask where it is, partly out of respect and mostly because she would tell them, and then it would need guarding.
This month somebody finally thought to ask whether her side door was difficult. Not in the least, she said. It takes her four seconds. It has had a second lock on it since 2019, of the sort that asks her for a thing she carries rather than a thing she knows, and would the council like one on the main gate, because she has a box of them in the buttery.
The council thanked her warmly and returned to the password.
Sire, I have counted. This month we have made life difficult for one hundred and forty people. All of them work here.
The Fool counts, which is his vice, and he counts correctly, which is his crime. One hundred and forty is a great many subjects to inconvenience, and we inconvenienced them to the last man. The brigand we inconvenienced not at all, never having met him.
Those who want the working version will find it in the fifth of the ten dreary decrees. The Squire has read it. He has it on his other arm. The Armoury has it as a free poster, for walls belonging to people who will not read a chronicle. Everything else the crown has issued for the month of awareness is kept in one place, in case October has been handed to you.
The month continues. On Wednesday the gate opens and the entire kingdom will attempt to enter at once, an event the council has designated a drill. The court has written to the far lands to report a triumph: this kingdom can no longer be entered by anybody. We expect a badge. Dame Maud posted the letter. She went out by the side door and was back before the herald reached the ninth character.
