Chapter 9: The Poison of Politics

“Alright, lazy bones, time to wake up!” Consultus Mae’s annoyed voice boomed dangerously close to Fallon’s ears. The Warlock frowned and snuggled deeper into the comfortably stuffed purple pillow embroidered with Highguard’s sigil of a sun surrounded by golden swords. Her attempts to return to sleep were promptly dashed when the pillow was yanked out from under her head.

“Oww!” Fallon hissed and rubbed her cheek gingerly as she glared at the middle-aged woman who served as her secretary. “Why?”

The B-Rank Guardian shook her head with evident disapproval. Mae had exchanged her Sentinel Badge several years back for the comfortable job of looking after one of Highguard’s many privileged bureaucrats. Mae herself came from a Praefectus family, but after reaching adulthood, she was demoted to Materia and worked her way up through the ranks of the Sentinel Guild. A bad Dungeon Delve that resulted in the death of two teammates had left the Guardian far too shaken to enter a dungeon again. Her family had secured this position for Mae as a form of retirement when it became clear the Guardian would never pick up her mace and shield again.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mae replied with a satisfied smirk as she dangled the pillow above Fallon’s head. “I thought you’d want to hide this before your father gets here.”

The Warlock snapped upright in her seat, banging her knee against the side of the office desk she had been sleeping on as she grabbed the pillow from Mae’s hand and shoved it into the back of a file drawer.

“Tsk,” Mae shook her head again and returned to her desk by the east wall where a long window with raised curtains looked out over the lower office floor where other Consultus and Materia rushed about to complete their assigned tasks. Across the busy center of the Halls of Principals, on another platform facing Fallon’s office, a group of Praefectus in similar official garb moved out slowly across the floor. Among them, the towering figure of Xander Gaumond was visible as he headed in the direction of Fallon’s office.

‘I guess that means the Paragon’s meeting is over.’ Fallon rubbed her stinging cheek with a sigh and then quickly grabbed a handful of letters from the stuffed basket beside her desk. Each letter was addressed to Highguard’s Praefectus, and the Warlock’s job was to open and read each letter to determine its “integrity.”

It was a job Xander had assigned to her when he dragged a twelve-year-old Fallon to work after discovering her unique skill to detect lies. Typically such a task would fall to the secretary of the Praefectus addressed, but now all letters came to Fallon’s very own office and filled the bins around her desk with endless work.

‘I don’t know why I joke about finishing early. I’ll never finish unless I set these bins on fire or have Asmodeus dump them into the Ancienter.’

“Now, what has got a young, healthy girl like you so worn out this early in the morning?” Mae asked as she lifted another tied bundle of letters which she carried to the bin furthest from Fallon’s desk. “I thought you’d given up on all that late-night reading.”

Fallon ignored her secretary’s inquisitive stare as she hastily adjusted her robes and then ripped open her third letter for the day.

To Praefectus John Larkin,

Noble Praefectus, I am writing again to seek your assistance in locating my missing brother. He has been missing for more than a week after failing to come home from work. As I mentioned in my previous letter, Richard recently started working at the western cemetery. The officials there won’t tell me anything or help in any way. They seem to believe Richard has just runoff. But where would he run to? Outside the wall? He was grateful for this job and a very dedicated, hard worker. There was nothing in his behavior that would suggest he was on the run or in any sort of trouble. Please, I know he’s still in the city somewhere—

Fallon squinted at the handwriting and glanced down to the name at the bottom, Sheryl Brown, which she recognized. The same woman had written two letters to Commander John Larkin regarding the disappearance of her brother, Richard Brown, after he failed to return home from his job as a night watchman in the city cemetery.

‘This is ridiculous. I verified her request and sent it on to Commander Larkin’s office. Why hasn’t anyone responded to this woman yet?’

Fallon reached for one of three stamps before her and slapped a green ‘Verified’ on the front, then spun around to the wall of wire baskets with labels for each department. Her topaz blue eyes darted from the basket marked ‘City Guard Department’ on the far left down towards the basket marked ‘Sentinel Guild’ on the bottom right.

‘Well, if Commander Larkin won’t take it seriously.’ Fallon returned to her desk and wrote a quick note at the bottom of the letter.

Praeditus Fallon Gaumond requests an official investigation into a possible Gromulus infestation in the city’s western cemetery. Richard Brown is the second night's watchman in the past month to have gone missing while on duty, and neither disappearance has been properly investigated despite the continuing requests of surviving family members.

Once satisfied with her note, Fallon signed her name, then flipped over the ring on her right hand. She pressed the titanium ring against a sponge soaked with red ink and then rolled the imprint of a miniature sun surrounded by swords onto the parchment next to her name.

‘There. If this doesn’t work, Sheryl Brown. I’ll go down to the cemetery and investigate myself.’

Fallon flipped her chair around once more and then hesitated as she held the letter above the ‘Sentinel’s Guild’ basket.

‘Wait—if this is a monster infestation. I could clear them out myself and earn some experience.’ She pulled the letter back by half an inch. ‘No, wait. If Gromulus burrowed in through six feet of rocks, the Sentinel’s should locate the breach and close it properly.’ The letter drifted further over the basket as the Warlock’s grip tightened. ‘But why am I giving up free and easy experience? I could always report the breach after clearing out the monsters myself—’

Three sharp bangs on her office door quickly snapped Fallon from her internal debate, and she dropped the letter into the basket before spinning around to face Xander Gaumond, who ignored her secretary as he strode right up to the Warlock’s desk.

“Fallon,” the Ice Magus said curtly. “I need a word.”

Fallon blinked and raised both eyebrows before gesturing to the single chair in front of her desk. “I’m all ears, Father,” she said with a less than enthusiastic tone.

“In private,” Xander added, stressing the last word.

Fallon frowned, sensing this was a conversation that she would not enjoy. She leaned to the side and addressed her secretary. “Mae. Could you—”

“I’ll fetch us some breakfast,” the Consultus replied, already grabbing her purse and heading to the door. “Won’t be gone long.”

“Do take your time,” Xander called over his shoulder without turning in her direction.

Consultus Mae gave Fallon’s father a pursed glare of disapproval, then stepped outside the office, shut the door, and flipped the sign outside that read ‘No Admittance.’

“What’s the big secret?” Fallon asked as her eyes trailed from the Consultus’ bouncing black curls back to the Ice Magus.

“The Paragon would like to ask a favor of you.”

Fallon’s forced smile tilted sharply off course. “No.”

“Fallon,” Xander took the offered chair, though he sat on the very edge as he leaned towards her. “Highguard has been placed in a precarious position. The Paragon has imposed martial law due to the city’s current overpopulation. As a result, the number of Erros we are currently holding inside the city’s prison needs to be reduced.”

“Reduced?” Fallon pressed her thumb and index finger between her brows as she drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “What does that have to do with me?”

“To put it bluntly, the Paragon wants to execute as many prisoners as he can legally justify over the next week to trim the city’s population and keep it under the Pillar of Dissonance’s threshold.”

“Ahh,” Fallon remarked cynically. “And the Paragon wants me to verify the integrity of each verdict?” She gestured to the pile of letters awaiting her unique ability. The Warlock pressed two fingers against her lips and pretended to think the matter over as she mentally confirmed [Dementher’s Perception] was still active. “How many prisoners?”

Xander cleared his throat and sat back in the chair. “Two hundred give or take.”

“Oh?” Fallon exhaled softly. “That’s not as many as I thought—”

“Today, Fallon. That’s how many prisoners the Paragon would like you to evaluate today.”

“Today!” Fallon protested sharply. “Wait—in person?!”

“Yes. An interrogator will ask the prisoner simple yes or no questions regarding their crimes, and you will confirm if they are speaking the truth—or not.”

Fallon shook her head quickly as she rubbed Asmodeus’s mark beneath her robes anxiously. “No. I-I said I wouldn’t do that again.”

“Fallon, if it weren’t for the state of emergency we are currently facing, I would happily turn the Paragon down, believe me.” The Ice Magus rose promptly.

Fallon smothered a cynical laugh as her father turned towards the door, his business concluded. “So that’s it—I don’t get a say in this?”

Xander stopped and turned to face her with an impatient frown. “You’re a Praeditus, Fallon. Using your gifts to uphold the law and protect Highguard’s citizens, that is the responsibility that comes with such a title.”

“Not after I turn 18,” Fallon growled as she clenched her hands into fists. “Then I’ll be demoted to an Esus thanks to you.”

Lie Detected!

“Your unique ability makes you valuable to the High Council, Fallon,” Xander replied calmly. “After all, there aren’t very many Seviners in Orinthian currently.”

‘Seeing as it’s a unique ability that’s different for each person, I’m not surprised.’

“But I don’t want to be a bureaucrat like you, Father. I want to be a Sentinel!”

“That would be a waste of your talents, Fallon,” the Ice Magus replied dismissively and turned to leave.

“If I do this—favor—for the Paragon,” Fallon called after him as she quickly rose from her seat. “Will you promise not to get in my way when I next apply to join the Sentinel Guild.”

A ripple of cold filled the office as Xander paused once again and sighed. “I’ll think about it, Fallon.”

Lie Detected!

Fallon held back her anger as the Praefectus left the office. Only after the door shut did she rip open her file drawer and grab the purple pillow before screaming her frustrations into the gold-threaded sun.

An awkward cough filled the silence that followed, and Fallon lifted her head as Consultus Mae prodded the door closed again with her foot before carrying over a mug of abyssal black coffee and a berry muffin.

“Went bad, did it?” The secretary asked as she placed the Warlock’s breakfast on the desk.

Fallon blew against the strands of blonde hair before her eyes and dropped her face into the pillow with a resigned sigh.

Five years ago, before Fallon was assigned this office and the menial task of reading letters, and Xander earned his position as Leader of the Merchant Banker’s Guild, her father had brought Fallon before the Paragon to perform an unpleasant evaluation.

The interrogation Fallon witnessed before the prisoner finally agreed to answer the Paragon’s question was the Warlock’s first taste of human cruelty. And if experiencing Delancy’s unique brand of torture firsthand were not already branded upon Fallon’s memory, what followed would forever change the Warlock’s perception of both the Paragon and her father.

At Paragon Delancy’s request, Fallon was asked to verify the prisoner’s answers as truthful or false. In the end, a twelve-year-old’s verdict had sentenced the man, a well-respected member of the High Council and the previous leader of the Merchant Banker’s Guild, to swift execution beneath the Paragon’s blade.

Praefectus Asher Grantham’s headless body was Fallon’s first experience with death and an unforgettable reminder of what would happen to anyone who thwarted the power of a Paragon.

‘Knowing what I know. I guess I really have no choice.’ The Warlock shook her head as she left her desk and headed for the door.

“Praeditus?” Consultus Mae called after her in confusion.

“You can have the rest of the day off, Mae. I’m on a special assignment from the Paragon,” Fallon replied as she opened the office door then paused. “Before you go, see the letters I got through off to their respective departments.”

“All three of them?” The Consultus replied with dripping sarcasm.

“Would you prefer that I assign you to another Praefectus? Perhaps, Gregory?”

Mae bolted from her desk and sprinted over to the wall of wire baskets. “I’ll get them delivered right away, Praeditus!”

‘That’s what I thought.’ Fallon closed her office door and rubbed Asmodeus’s mark again as she moved down the steps to cross the center room towards the staircase that would lead her to the Paragon’s office. A part of her wanted to summon the Dementher just to have him close by, but Asmodeus was already on an important task, one that might provide an interesting distraction should the Warlock’s guess prove accurate.

Even through the busy crowd of secretaries and messengers, Fallon still felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end before Delancy’s errand boy, Consultus Julian Moore, a B-ranked Assassin, appeared suddenly two feet in front of her.

“Fallon Gaumond,” Julian whispered with a gut-twisting leer. “You have been summoned.”

“I know,” Fallon replied curtly. “Father informed me. I was—just on my way up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Julian replied as he strolled calmly beside her and took Fallon’s arm in a tight grip. “The Paragon asked me to escort you to the Garrison’s prison personally.”

The Warlock clenched her teeth as the image of Julian laughing as he tossed Asher Grantham’s head into a box to be sent back to his family residence flashed behind her eyes. “Wonderful.”