Onto the real reason for this letter however. We need to meet face to face. Put aside our enmity for just one day and hear what I have to say. The information I have discovered is too important for you to ignore.
She watches as the laborers continue the construction of the tall obelisk that will soon serve as the center reference of her city. For her, like many others that survived the initial transition, these past three weeks felt like years. She could count on one hand the number of nights she had managed to get more than a few hours of sleep; a fact that would be evident to the world were it not for her careful application of makeup.
No one would call her a vain person, at least to her face, but she understands the power of appearance. She’s always been attractive, even as time continued to press down on her. Even after she reached the point that she was no longer considered young by society's standards, it didn’t stop suitors half her age from approaching her. Her attractiveness has always been hard earned, consisting of twice weekly hot yoga sessions, a strict diet of no carbs and lean meats, and most importantly; self discipline. How could she expect others to follow her orders, if she couldn’t follow them herself?
Cultivate the persona of a person always in control and that is what people will see.
It’s for that reason that she’s standing outside, watching the progress unfold in front of her. And she knows, that while she watches the workers, others are watching her. Judging her. Looking for weaknesses that they can capitalize on. Thankfully, no matter how hard they stare, they can’t see inside her mind. Because at this exact moment, she wants nothing more than to sit down and take a very long nap. But she pushes the exhaustion aside, and continues her careful observations.
“Mrs. King? Mrs. King, can you hear me?”
Pulling herself away from her thoughts, she turns around to find Julian standing a few feet behind her. A short and portly young man, the heat of Everwall forces him to constantly brush aside the sweat from his forehead using his forearm. Short brown hair falls into his eyes in a poorly done version of a bowl cut while multiple acne scars dot his face. Despite his unsightly appearance, Julian had served as Mary’s assistant and right hand for a number of years before the change. He was unwaveringly loyal, smart as a whip, and had a head for numbers that was unrivalled in the city. If it weren’t for his complete lack of confidence, fanatical loyalty, and debilitating speech impediment, Mary would consider him a prime rival for city leader.
The picture of composure, she looks at her assistant and nods. She’d prefer to acknowledge him verbally, but her years of experience had taught her that words were a precious commodity to those in power. People listen more when you speak less. Or, as her old boss had put it, have more than you show and speak less than you know.
Seeing her acknowledgement, Julian swallows his nervousness. “M-Mrs. King, I wanted to get your i-input on a management o-office. I-I know that the Fisher’s are p-pushing f-for the smoking hut b-but I think w-we can ignore them f-for a little longer. The m-management o-office should take p-pr-priority” His stuttering always made him difficult to listen to, taking far too long to get across a simple idea, but Mary always hid her annoyance well, her face betraying none of her emotion and remaining passive.
Raising an eyebrow, she responds. “Interesting. I thought you wanted the smithy. Explain the change”. It had taken her decades of working at high levels within the corporate world to master the art of commanding speech, but it remained one of her proudest accomplishments as well as the key component to her current position. Lesser managers might have questioned his change of heart, but she was not one of them. She demanded an explanation and would receive it.
Sweat continues to drip down his face as he responds, a deep blush showing his nervousness. “W-well I think we n-need to b-better understand our w-world. W-we need somewhere t-t-to document S-Skills and how they are u-unlocked. I-if w-we can sta-sta-standardize Skills, th-then we can teach them t-to the g-guards.” His face drips with more sweat by the time he finishes, the effort of the long sentence causing him to perspire further. Mary wished he would tell her the reason for his impediment, but it was the one area that he refused her, never disclosing the reason despite her mild effort. She’d toyed with the thought of taking time to make him tell her, but that plan fell by the wayside due to the amount of work needed for Everwall’s success.
She turns back to the construction effort, her eyes moving higher and looking up at the sky, comprehending his idea instantly. A great idea. A fantastic idea. Mentally she simultaneously berates herself for not thinking of it first, and defends herself with the fact that she hasn’t slept in nearly three days. More importantly, she mulls his idea over and finds the power contained within it. No one had yet discovered the means to create a Skill, their appearance seemingly random, and the first to do so would hold the reins of power in this new world. While physical weapons like swords and bows had their place, Skills were the true measure of power. If she could harness the power of Skill creation, then the Fisher’s would lose what little influence they had left and she could consolidate her power to deal with new interlopers.
Mary turns back to Julian and nods her head. “Get it done by Sunday. Pull extra guards as construction workers if you need to.”
His face beaming at the acceptance of his idea, Julian bobs his head up and down. “Wh-who should I-I get to l-lead it? I r-recommend y-your hu-husband, Damian.”
For the first time, Mary lets surprise show in her face at his suggestion. She has no intention of putting her husband in charge of that office, a much better applicant standing out very clearly in her mind, but she knows well the importance of understanding her underling’s reasoning.
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“Oh? Why is that?”
“H-he is in-inte-intelligent, liked b-by the gu-guards, and c-connected to y-you. C-cements yo-your power.”
She mulls the thought over in her mind and finds that she doesn’t disagree with his reasoning. Despite this, she shakes her head. “No Julian, I won’t put my husband in that position. He has his own responsibilities. You will head up the management office.”
He freezes completely, not moving for a few moments and then looking up at her with fear, excitement, and trepidation in his eyes. “P-p-pardon?”
Mary wishes she had the luxury to laugh at his reaction. She’d love nothing more than to tussel his hair and direct him towards his new assignment with a smile and some encouraging words. But she doesn’t. She didn’t get to her position by letting her emotions and desires control her. And after everything that had been lost, she doesn’t have it in her to play mother towards the young man.
“You will be in charge of the management office, Julian. I want your focus to be primarily on combat Skills, but you can use your personal judgement to determine secondary Skills that could help support the community. Report to me once the building is complete and you get started, then once every day with your findings. I will make an announcement that gives you carte blanche to interview guards and hire staff. You are loyal and smart Julian, I expect good things.”
Seeing the shock register on his face, she turns and walks away from the center of town, leaving Julian frozen and stuttering as he tries to comprehend what just happened. As she rounds the corner, she convinces herself that her last words had been for his benefit. Not for hers. And she almost believes it.
The rest of the morning is spent in a whirlwind of activity, a common occurrence for the leader of a town of nearly 20,000 people. Raids of the outlying grocery stores need to be approved to provide short term relief for hungry residents. Farms need to be laid out and seeded on the outskirts of the city to ensure future food supplies remain within the protections of the guard’s limits. Complaints from the factions formed within the city need to be heard. Rulings on arrested drunkards and criminals need to be made, and a thousand other decisions need to make their way through the single woman in control of the largest city in the region.
She breaks for lunch around two o’clock, meeting her husband for a quick bite at their manor. Power begets luxury, and this is evident in their home. Most inhabitants of Everwall currently reside in damaged houses, tiny camping tents, or haphazard huts. Mary and Damian King, however, are not ones to eschew luxury even in the face of a disaster, and had quickly laid claim to the manor. It is large, wholly undamaged, and exclusively for their use. There had been a bit of unrest due to this decision but that had been quickly squashed by Mary. Power may have been intangible in the old world, but Genesis had changed that, making it extremely tangible and evident. Marc’s death had been the catalyst to this realization, a hard memory that always filled Mary with sorrow and regret. And with other thoughts that she refused to acknowledge these past three weeks.
“Darling … do you think you are ready to talk about it?” Damian sits in front of her, a crisp white linen shirt pulled tightly over his lean upper body, accompanied by a pair of fitted blue jeans and hiking boots. Like his wife, he understands the importance of maintaining appearances, adjusting his wardrobe and look to fit in with the people. He currently serves as the leader of the guards, his keen mind allowing him to provide the protection and enforcement that she needed to keep the city under control.
“No.” She knows what he is trying to bring up and she refuses to acknowledge the thought, banishing it from her mind and focusing exclusively on her food.
“Darling, it has been three weeks. At a certain point we need to face the music.”
Anguish and sorrow rip through her at his words, but through sheer force of will she manages to push them back down, bottling them up and refusing to let them out. She knows that this is unhealthy, but is pragmatic enough to know that she can’t handle it right now. The city would collapse without her.
She shakes her head.
Damian stands up and walks over behind her, putting his arms around her and trying to comfort her with his presence. “I’m not saying there is no hope, but we need to confront the fact that he may not -”
She doesn’t listen to the rest of his carefully prepared speech, blocking herself off and refusing to even consider the thing he has been trying to get her to confront for the past week. Too much needs to be done and confronting the specter looming over her is the fastest way to depression.
She emerges from their house a few hours later, filled with sorrow but hiding it behind her careful facade. Most people, when confronted with a similar situation, would become useless, but never in her life has Mary King been useless.
Pulling out her folder containing the papers by which she is able to keep the city efficient, she begins to walk around and hear the problems of the citizens. Each problem is written down, carefully annotated in her personal script, and will be addressed at the root of the problem. Mary refuses to solve individual problems, but instead tackles the cause and fixes it so that it won’t happen again. It had taken the citizens a few days to get used to her management style, but now they understand the power of having a competent leader in charge of the city. She still has her dissidents, mainly the factions looking to take power from her, but plans have been laid down to handle them when they raise their heads.
The rest of the day is spent solving these problems, frequently interacting with individuals she has appointed to positions of power within the city. Respect and fear, these are the tools by which the competent ruler maintains control.
She is interrupted by a guard during her meeting with Russell, the former accountant/economist she had appointed to be in charge of creating a new currency. Their interactions with the Empire had complicated this task and they were discussing possible solutions when a guard pulled her away, refusing to give her a reason but adamant that she needed to follow him.
Her mind immediately prepares for the potential of an ambush, preparing to use the Skill that had allowed her to inspire fear within her underlings. It is then that she sees the ruffian that the guard is leading her towards. Tall and with a lean frame, matted brown hair hangs down his face and she watches as he brushes it aside in a familiar gesture that sends pangs of recognition through her heart. His eyes then meet her and she lets out a strangled cry, falling to her knees and bringing her hands to her mouth in complete surprise. Tears begin to fall down her face as the ruffian comes forward, tears of his own falling down his face, and wraps her up in a strong hug.
Whispering, emotion is thick in his voice as he says, “Hi Mom.”