Predicts people and structures

"In addition, that man must exercise more caution in handling that sword, or he will sever a limb—his own or one belonging to another citizen. That cart cannot support the weight of the so-called 'mana vault' that is being loaded into it, and you must ensure that none of your enforcers are inspired to set foot inside it." He had been the one who ensured that the device, a product of the Aetherological Society, had been surrounded by a fence at the fair, for the safety of all observers. He winced as an axle broke under its weight and six strong soldiers staggered around, trying to keep it from tipping over onto any of them.

The officer ran toward that disaster, forgetting all his other warnings in her haste, and Dovin sighed. It was up to him, then, to prevent the next disaster. He hurried toward the knot of restive inventors, grabbing two enforcers by the elbow as he drew near.

"Move along your way, citizens," he said. "For your own safety." He shoved the two soldiers ahead of him, and they started guiding people away. Good. Next.

Ah, too late again! The oaf with the sword had already cut himself. Fortunately, the wound was much less serious than it could have been, and someone was already kneeling beside him, tying a tourniquet above the wound on his arm. Dovin nodded, satisfied that the care was sufficient—but still irritated that it was necessary.

***

A Grateful Consulate