One average afternoon the Paragon was sitting at his desk. He had several extravagant furniture in his grandiose chamber, for instance a double bed made of tropical wood, several grey-blue curtains of exceptional quality and, of course, a huge carpet of the same colour. Most of these luxury items’ fabric was created out of silk, as these rare materials made a stunning fit to the architecture of the Grey Palace. In addition, all of the windows were made of oak that was coloured to a shade of dark brown likewise the floor, which was composed of the same matter.

Although it was a bedchamber, he used the room as his office as well. Displaying wealth and excellence, negotiation and intimidation were the most efficient here to the ordinary people, who were not used to this extravagant style of equipment. A pile of papers, concerning state affairs, towered over Tyronne as he was regarding several problematic government related subjects.

When the bureaucrat stepped in, he was calculating gross income and did not care about the approaching civil servant. This state employee was rather fat and was blessed with an oval shaped head and disgusting, heavy jowls that accumulated the stench of his abominable sweat.

“Sir, two of the convicts of the Skirmisher Branch escaped.” Tyronne did not look up, but kept writing. “We do not know how they did that, they might have been helped by the Resistance.”

“Who let you in?”

“Sir, this is important.”

“For Whom? Who let you in? I will not repeat myself. I reckon you would make a great replacement of those two as you do not obey my commands and answer my simple question. You forget who I am.” said Tyronne calmly.

The inferior individual shimmered and exposed himself. “I told the guards I have an appointment to discuss important matters of the state. They just let me in.” answered the subject trembling.

“You may speak now.”

“Two of the convicts related to the skirmisher group escaped.”

“Why would Graham send you here covering his weakness and his faults instead of admitting it?” thought the Paragon. “When?”

“A day ago. They left no traces whatsoever.”

“Then you will not be able to find them. Am I correct?”

“Sir…”

Tyronne hit his bell, four of the Vanguard introduced themselves to this insignificant character. The soldiers had light blue uniforms with titanium armour plates to protect their wearer.

“What I need is loyalty. I want my staff to work by my conditions, my commands. I demand adherence only to the Virtues, MY RULES.” he cried at the official furiously. Tyronne imposed his ingratitude on this pawn merely used by another player in the ploy to gain unlimited power over the absolute state. “Take this man to the Grey Monolith.” He commanded.

The Grey Monolith was a monument to the virtues, but most importantly a prison, from which nobody had returned intact. This building gave control over his personal staff, the population, who did not know anything about the bastille part, and the soldiers so that they do not commit mutiny of any form. It had several levels, which was granted a sign of the alphabet according to its function and treatment of individuals. The first level was baptized as Level B, whose function only included brainwash, interrogation and torture. Level C was for solitary confinement, Level D gave accommodation to people awaiting their death sentence in front of the public, Level E gave excruciating experiences only for the members of the resistance and anyone who openly denounced or revolted against his Highness, and the highest level, Level P that was to remove the pretenders to the state from play and had other enigmatic functions. Also, a temple of self-sacrifice was carved beneath the column.

“Hopefully, this will make people think that I did not figure out Graham’s significance and that he was using my staff for his ambitions.” His mind was not livid, he played an act in order to fool the guards and the official. “Call for Graham and Nathan, respectively. You have ten minutes.” The ruler ordered a guard, who was standing in front of his door. This guy ran off to fulfil the commands his master gave as he did not wish to be executed for treason. After he left, Tyronne took out a piece of paper, which mentioned both ’Resignation by Duty.’ and ’Increased income and land.’ and placed it on the other side of the desk, upside down.

After three equal knocks could be heard, Graham was escorted into the office, his black hair mixed with some grey locks laid unkempt on his shoulder due to the fact that he did not stand getting a haircut. Despite him being almost at the top of the social hierarchy, he did not imitate a typical nobleman, as his face possessed some wrinkles and his facial hair grew in spots unevenly. After being saluted to, the Paragon offered the officer a seat, who happily accepted.

“How is Selena?”

“She is content. She loves her child and husband, they live happily. She has everything she needs. She feared that you would interfere.” Tyronne ignored the last comment.

“Do you remember the reason we broke up?”

“I think she was not able to get pregnant.”

“I thought she was unable to, but a good doctor pointed out that my old illness rendered me infertile. He called it Memento Mori. Have you heard about it? No?” Of course he did. “Its symptoms included fever, the disappearance of pigments. It alters sperm and, in the end, can cause death by suffocation. If I remember well, this was a sickness that appeared after the Migration… Anyways, I sent a letter to Selena, but she was taken and got pregnant.”

“So why did you send for me?”

“I know about the fiasco.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you try to deny that?”

“Well, those were two useless kids, who have no importance whatsoever.”

“Useless? No importance whatsoever? They could have saved some of my soldiers’ life. Your negligence will be rewarded as others’ would be.”

“I am awaiting my punishment.”

“I heard that your son was chosen as a candidate to be a scout at the Recoinnaissance Branch.”

“I am proud.”

“You do not seem to be.” This time Graham ignored his comment. Tyronne had taken notice of that. “Let us change subject, shall we? Do you remember why I made you an officer of my army? That was your dream. I wanted have made Selena happy, who loved you more than anything, so I offered you the job. I realized that I have made a grievous mistake, as you are not even talented enough to lead ten soldiers. I have prepared the document for your resignation, it lies in front of you upside down. I hope you consider my offer and be relinquished of your duties.” As Tyronne spoke he exposed some written information of phoney truth and false orders. The officer turned the paper around, he gazed at the document in a way that displayed dismayed dissatisfaction dissenting disapproval and unholy heresy. He could not believe how puny pension he was given, which led him to stray further away from his supervisor.

“I cannot kill him openly, I cannot deny him because of his daughter. He could even blackmail me, but he is too stupid to do that, or he knows I wouldn’t let him.” Thought Tyronne.

“If you could give me more.” muttered the dumb one.

“I have nothing to spare, your colleagues will not be granted this kind of pension. So a mansion and servants are not enough for you? What do you want then? Most officers of your quality are awarded a bullet in the head.” replied Tyronne harshly.

“With all due respect Sir… I want to serve my country.” He answered in a polite yet displeased manner.

“If you were not retarded, you would have accepted my offer. Now I now you are my enemy.” He thought. “Clean my toilet.” Replied Tyronne with sensational seriousness. ”You are to come every morning and clean it. I will hold you accountable for any filth remaining. It is, surely, a huge honour.” Some gossip even mentioned that the smell of the Paragon’s expelled gases were almost identical to the odour of the rose and that his excrement could provide nutrients to plants more efficiently than industrial fertilizer.

“Sir…”

“I have made up my mind. Question me and you will suffer the consequences. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir.” Graham stood up, saluted, turned around and left the room, without any words to say aloud. As he dragged himself out of the chamber, Nathan stepped in, who greeted the old donkey with a warm welcome. “Greetings, stupid shit.” This individual was ranked as the chancellor, and was almost regarded as a friend. Nathan could be described as a skinny, tall fellow with red medium length hair swept back, green eyes of unerring enigma lied on his pale face along with a long and thin nose, with some freckles on his cheek and acute chin. Slyness was lurking in his gaze as a result of being a truly cynical person. “Underestimating simplicity complicates everything.” This was his motto.

“How was your morning?” asked the Champion of Virtues kindly, and displeased as his right hand did not report him on the progress of the Conclave of the Cardinals.

“They missed you. I was almost sentenced to ten lashes as a result of my insolence that was caused by not being able to convince your perfect presence to appeal before the credible Cardinals.” Replied Nathan cynically.

“Any details you can spare me, sir?”

“Those ancient lifeforms are just happy to exist. They have expressed some concerns about the living standards of the priests and the qualities of their sanctuaries. The usual stuff.”

“Did they have any territorial problems?”

“No, the five sectors are doing equally.”

“Do the people donate enough?”

“Yes, the Knight of the Linen even complimented the Lower City.”

“What about the Knight of the Velvet?”

“The Upper City prefers to keep its fortune.”

“I can say that the mayors are doing great. Do the people hate not being able to live under their own virtue’s sector?”

“On the contrary. They do not care about it. If they want to donate, they just go to the closest shrine of their preferred doctrine.”

“Fine. How was the festival?”

“A miracle to participate in, a nightmare to organize. The typical reactions occured around the city. Most of the people loved it, some just resented those practices. I, personally, flicked the beans at the marketplace and nobody cared. You know, the usual stuff. Oh, your subjects absolutely admired your speech, not like Mr. Productivity’s magnificent monologue.”

“Could we pay for the expenses?”

“We even had some of the budget money left. Our Camerarius did well.”

“What’s up with crime?”

“The Servant of Justice had had some days of, so his magisters took care of the jurisdiction. It was lower than usual.”

“Any sudden event you couldn’t cope with and I do not know of?”

“No, only some kids escaping from the Skirmisher’s barrack. But I suppose that is why Graham was here.”

“Excellent Deduction. I was told about the incident recently.”

“You need a briefing?”

“No, I do not care. But it seemed to be a good opportunity to remove Graham once and for all.”

“You have given him a choice to resign, haven’t you?”

“He did not sign it. Will you orchestrate his removal, or I have to do it myself?”

“What do you want me to do about it? Break his legs? Murder his son?” asked Nathan sarcastically.

“The ball is in your court.”

“Wait, really?” asked the redhead in a surprised tone.

“Contact Ethan, he will do the rest.” Responded his superior with ultimate frankness.

“Wasn’t he given a new assignment?”

“Graham’s son is a candidate at the recon branch. He will be made an apprentice and get killed in an accident. He is to move out tomorrow.”

“And what about Selena? Are we ignoring her?”

“I have had ENOUGH of his insolence.” Tyronne answered furiously. “This prick is my mistake and I will not bear him any longer.” His hatred was derived from Graham’s unreachable position that undermined his authority, defining the destiny of every individual in this city. Not only did he swear to destroy this unattainable position, but to take revenge on his stubbornness and idiocy that insulted the Sovereign’s most gracious ego. “Just conceal it as an accident. She dislikes his brother as he is an untalented goofy bastard like his father.” He lied. “He deserves to die.” Tyronne did not reveal the plot, which were to depose him as he did not know whether Nathan was a participant or not, but this time, his ire was true.

“No objections, I am correct?”

Tyronne nodded. “You are dismissed.”

Nathan turned around, stepped towards the door and went to work.

“It is only a matter of time that someone come and attempt to depose me. My spies’ report is coming due.” At that moment, a guard stepped in with an individual wearing black bureaucrat suit.

“Isn’t this the Minister of the Shadow?”

“Yes, Sir, the minister is to report you on their findings.”

“Report, Eximius Umbra.” It was a custom of Tyronne to name the talented in latin. He adored the language, but only two dictionaries could be found at this part of the world after the Worldfall. The others were destroyed, burned, recycled or disappeared. When he was bored, he memorized the content of these books. He was a frequent visitor to the state library, when he was only an apprentice.

The shady minister stepped forward and approached Tyronne with great precaution.

“Several lower layers have been contaminated, and almost half of the military command was exposed to be participating in a conspiracy against you.”

“Most important ranks?”

“Head of the Skirmisher Branch, two of the Cardinals, namely Loyalty and Compliance, the Deputy of the Militia and some lower ranked officers in the Main Branch.”

“I want a written report.”

“I have that with me.” He handed over a stack of paper. “What do you want us to do?”

“Tell the Minister of Atonement to reward your spies. I’ll tell the Overseer you did well.” Tyronne divided espionage to three different segments when he came to power. The first was spying itself, the second segment was to reward the spies, and the third inspected the other two so that nobody could abuse their office.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing. Dismissed.”

After so much work, he forgot to track the time. As dusk was over, the sunlight did not penetrate the transparent glass of the wooden windows, and yet he craved for the slight warmth those feeble rays have caused. He stood up from his extravagant chair, and set off for the dining room as it was time he dined with company. He was a little peckish indeed, but that was not enough to consume a starter and three main meals. Arriving at the hall, his occasional concubine nominees were waiting to eat already.

“I am humbled by your presence, ladies, sorry for being late.” he greeted his potential lovers, in the meantime all of them stood up and bowed to their overlord, some of them almost fainted of hunger. They had not been allowed to have lunch so that all the food the Paragon’s kitchen prepared would not go to waste. Tyronne hated throwing out good food, since it was a valuable and rare asset these times, plus he despised inefficiency.

The waiters began to serve the starters hence the girls prepared themselves to remove the material from the plate politely. According to traditions, the Paragon was to wait for his visitors to devour their dinner, only then could he start his own. While the others fulfilled their obligations, Tyronne asked for some red wine that was very unusual of him, since he hated every kind of alcohol. Despite having eight possible candidates, he had already chosen one, all of this was a formality. He even had some snacks back at his chamber. He stole them from the kitchen last time he ventured there, so he denied the opportunity to fill himself with the glamorous provision and only desired the busy future.

While the others were eating, he heard some kind of unusual, mostly clinking noises in the kitchen. Then two of the waiters suspiciously approached him in a hurried manner. At that moment a girl stood up so that she could withdraw to the lavatory, and hit one of the approaching waiters unintentionally, exposing a knife that was not exactly for gastronomic use. His partner threw his weapon at Tyronne.

He used his plate as a shield, blocking the blade, altering its trajectory, hitting the fireplace beside him. “Fucking GUARDS!” he shouted, but nobody answered his call. Unfortunately, there was eight other humans in the room, who were not particularly very skilled in hand-to-hand combat, so he started to retreat to the back of the room so that nobody would get wounded. The other one had hurled his dagger at the Paragon, who dodged it with great care. Both of them were dangerously close. Suddenly, two of the girls grabbed one of the assassins and a third smashed his face with a chair, crushing his skull and removing him from the battle. As the other one was standing motionless in the shock and awe, Tyronne gripped the key of the window, which was on the mantelpiece, and stabbed his victim in the eye, who collapsed under the pain the act caused. Then Tyronne whacked his face with a tray rendering him unconscious. This all happened in the blink of an eye.

“I knew this day would come.” After this grim experience, Tyronne checked on the guards at the door, whom were absent from their position. The only thing that was left behind were several drops of red fluid.

“FUUUUCK.” He cried out as loud as possible and waited for the Vanguard to arrive.