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Chapter 7: A Council of Praefecti
“You fired your maid,” Xander commented with noted disapproval as he looked up from his half-finished plate of eggs, sausage, and a biscuit drenched in gravy.
“I did,” Fallon replied as she moved to the opposite end of the six-foot table and waited for Consultus Able to pull out her chair. “Thank you.”
“Good morning, Praeditus,” Ruth, a senior member of the kitchen staff, greeted as she set down a plate of still steaming breakfast before the Warlock while another maid filled the waiting crystal glass with sweet mikan juice.
Fallon murmured her thanks with a cautious glance towards the still eating Praefectus. The sound of heartbroken sobs filtered into the dining room as Ruth returned to the kitchen. Fallon hastily smothered the noise by digging her fork and knife viciously through her breakfast against the ceramic plate.
Xander paused eating to drink some of his rubus wine. “That makes what—six maids in as many months?” He commented with a hint of irritation as he studied her. “You do realize that with all the refugees the city is being forced to take in that it will be hard for Flora to find another position of employment right now.”
“Mmm!” Fallon exclaimed loudly around a lump of scrambled egg. “The season on dez eggs—” she stabbed a sausage and shoved it into her still full mouth, “—amauzing!” Despite the rather prickly glare directed at her from across the table, Fallon remained focused on chewing as loudly as she could while also trying not to choke on her overly ambitious mouthful.
“You should at least write Flora a referral.”
“Wuay?”
“So she can find another job!”
Fallon resisted the temptation to roll her eyes as she hurriedly chewed, swallowed, and rinsed her throat with juice. “No, I mean—why should I write a referral?” The Warlock offered a scornful smile as she pointed an empty fork at Xander. “You were her Master, not me.”
“Fallon. If that were true, you would not have been able to fire her,” Xander said with a note of weary frustration.
“Well, I can hardly justify writing a referral for someone who betrayed their Master.”
“Flora was merely concerned for your safety—that’s hardly a betrayal!”
“She lied to my face!” Fallon responded flatly as she met the Ice Magus’s steel-blue gaze.
Xander’s eyes narrowed, and then glanced towards Consultus Able, who stood against the dining room wall. “What did Flora lie about?”
“Why she came back so bloody early in the morning for one,” Fallon replied as she stacked cut eggs and sausage neatly onto her fork. “It certainly wasn’t to catch up on her work. Either she’s having an affair with another member of the household staff who lives here with us—or she’s another spy sent by the Grantham family.”
Able perked up at the mention of the Grantham family while Xander’s expression soured.
“Have you any evidence to back that up, or are you just trying to get Flora tossed out because you lost a sword?” the Ice Magus asked cynically.
Fallon’s jaw clenched as she lowered her fork and pinned her topaz-blue eyes onto the Praefectus. “I am well aware of the weight my words carry when it comes to determining other’s guilt, Father.”
‘You know better than anyone I can tell when other people are lying.’
Xander frowned and looked away briefly while Fallon composed herself. “I only mentioned the Grantham family because when I questioned Flora who she worked for before coming here, she lied about their name.”
The Praefectus nodded slowly and turned to Able. “Have Mr. Atler look into Flora’s references again. If he finds anything—let me know.”
“Yes, Praefectus,” Able answered and promptly left the room.
“Should I still bother with a referral—or are you going to let her hide away in the kitchen to add more salt to our meals?” Fallon pressed with an arched brow.
Xander glanced at the wine glass in his hands and set it aside with a sigh as Able returned. “Consultus, send two guards to escort Flora back to her house of residence and perform a search for—anything suspicious. If Flora protests, remind her that if she complies, she will still receive three weeks severance pay.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Fallon observed ruefully.
“Flora’s employment documentation mentioned two children,” Xander replied darkly. “Children shouldn’t have to starve because of mistakes made by their parents.”
‘Ah, so you do have a heart.’ Fallon sighed and returned to her meal.
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Consultus Able escorted father and daughter through the gated front yard of their dwelling. Like every other mansion in the upper district, their estate contained the main house with a private yard and small garden for cooking herbs, along with a servant’s house for the trusted Esus who ran the place. The mansion also had enough rooms to accommodate Consultus Able and Fallon’s assigned bodyguard, Consultus Darren, when they were allowed to rest for the evening.
Consultus Darren waited beside the carriage driver and team of four giant red stags. The Destroyer tipped his brimmed hat in their direction as Able stepped forward to open the carriage door. “Morning Praefectus. Praeditus.”
“Darren,” Xander replied as he tossed the confiscated sword up to the surprised Destroyer. “Your Mistress seems to have slipped past your watch once again.”
Darren sighed with an annoyed look in Fallon’s direction before he pulled the blade out and studied. “Looks like something she might have picked up from the Garrison. I’ve seen a few City Guard officers carry about weapons similar to this. The sheath certainly looks like it belongs to an officer—” The Destroyer frowned as his gaze moved from the burgundy-colored sheath to a bit of sticky blue residue that glinted near the hilt, “That’s interesting.”
“Shouldn’t we be going,” Fallon cut in impatiently. She hadn’t had a chance to clean the blade after her grind through the dungeon and could easily guess what sort of sticky monster blood Darren had spotted on the sword. “Wouldn’t want to keep the Paragon waiting.”
“Yes, get in, Fallon,” Xander said shortly and then held out his hand to Darren. “I’ll be returning that to its rightful owner later.”
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Darren snorted as he slid the sword back in its sheath and tossed it down to the Ice Magus. “Be an easy 2 Prums to guess which shiny new officer that sword belongs to.”
“Yes, Darren, we all know how clever you are,” Fallon muttered under her breath as she climbed into the carriage. ‘Shame I can’t fire him as easily as I could those annoying maids.’ The Warlock slumped into her leather seat and crossed her arms as Xander slid the sword between his seat and the carriage wall before sitting down across from her.
“Don’t slouch, Fallon.”
Fallon glared at the Ice Magus as she squirmed back against the chair, straightened her spine, and yawned deeply against her velvet glove.
“Honestly,” the Praefectus muttered and then turned around to knock against the window and signal the driver. “You would do well to remain alert today. I don’t know why the Paragon insisted on my bringing you along at such an early hour.”
“I assume it has something to do with the refugees,” Fallon replied with a shrug.
“With the Paragon, it's rarely so straightforward,” Xander muttered. “Still, make use of the extra hours to get your work done.”
“The never-ending pile of complaints from Highguard’s thirty-thousands civilians I get to sort through?” Fallon arched a brow. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. And if I somehow manage to get my assigned quota for the day finished early, does that mean I can have the rest of the day off?”
“To wander off to get into more trouble?” The Ice Magus snorted.
“Don’t worry, Father,” Fallon retorted with a sarcastic smile. “You have clever Darren to keep a close watch on me. What sort of trouble could I get into?”
Perhaps it was due to a very poor night's sleep, but a bit more bitterness than Fallon intended to show seeped into her voice and did not go unnoticed.
Xander tapped his chin thoughtfully as he studied her. Fallon turned to look out the window where the iron walls and protected mansions slowly shifted into more economical houses packed closely together.
“If you manage to get your work done early, you can leave—but only if you come straight home, Fallon,” Xander said firmly.
‘From one prison to the next.’ Fallon huffed and refused to look his way for the remainder of their journey.
The carriage slowed as they hit the morning traffic of Esus on their way to work to start the fires, sweep the shops, polish the saddles, and clean off the roads their ranked peers would make use of after the sun had risen.
The carriage driver rang his bell, and Darren added his annoying voice to the metallic warning.
“Clear out of the way, Esus! If you don’t want a broken leg, then move it!”
Fallon shook her head. “Shouldn’t you reign him in a bit? Surely he’s not doing your image as a City Praefectus any good.”
“Darren is just encouraging the Esus to clear a path,” Xander replied in a tone that implied he wasn’t buying one bit of her argument. “Stop looking for an excuse to get him fired.”
“I wasn’t,” Fallon protested shamelessly. “I just thought it would be nice if you could hire someone with a likable personality if you must have me watched at all times.” The Warlock crossed her arms as she turned away to watch the crowd of Esus scramble out of the road around them.
“Personality aside, Darren is a capable Destroyer. Not everyone is grateful for the work we do as Praeditus. It doesn’t happen often, but there have been a few incidents where the resentful have taken their grievances with the Praefecti out on their children. I feel more assured for your safety with a Consultus at your side, Fallon.”
“Privileged and resented, what a lucky fate,” Fallon murmured sarcastically as the carriage quickened its pace through the cleared street.
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Paragon Delancy drummed his perfectly manicured fingernails against the polished Black Locust wood of the High Praefectus Council table as he waited for the last of his six Praefecti to move leisurely to their place. Once the white-haired and sagely Arcane Magus finally took his seat, Delancy promptly rose to greet the gathered praeditus, eager to address the pressing matter his city now faced.
“Greetings, Praefecti. Thank you for assembling so swiftly despite the earliness of the hour!” The Paragon’s words boomed like the distant sound of thunder throughout the room as all eyes fastened upon him with mingled respect and wariness due to one of his rank. “As you have all no doubt heard, Fraydale, one of our northern trading towns, has been sacked and overrun by a C-Ranked Dementher Gate.”
The esteemed heads of Highguard’s prominent and influential guilds nodded somberly as they remained silent.
“Early reports indicate the Gate’s invaders were the Kobalus Horde.”
“A small mercy then,” Praefectus John Larkin, Commander of Highguard City Guard and the city’s defense, commented grimly.
“I doubt the citizens of Fraydale will view it that way,” countered Praefectus Beatrix Hart, Warden of the Sentinel Guild, with a shake of her head. “Fraydale only had maybe 800 soldiers and fewer Sentinels at their disposal. They have always been reliant on Sentinels from Elderdale, Steelgrave, and even my own guild here in Highguard.” The Warden dropped a fist wearily against the council table as her grim expression darkened. “It is very likely that what Sentinels we sent to protect them from wandering monsters have all died while attempting to give Fraydale's citizens a chance to flee.”
“Althea’s mercy,” whispered Praefectus Eli Goodwin, Guild Master of the Trade & Craftsman Association.
“Our losses count few among the many souls the Kobalus Horde has no doubt sent into the afterlife,” Delancy replied somberly. “But I received word yesterday late afternoon that Paragon Thea of Steelgrave rode immediately to Fraydale’s aid along with her army of Sentinels. You can be sure by now the Gate has been destroyed, and the Kobalus slaughtered down to the last squealing pig.”
“That’s the Emperor's Firebrand for you,” Praefectus Arlo Ferguson commented with a wry laugh and a curious smile. The Leader of the Alchemist Guild was a great admirer of strength and inquisitive about the nature of each unique Nucleus that determined a Sentinel’s class.
‘That necromancer would happily cut us all open, just to experiment on how our Nucleus evolve when exposed to pain and suffering.’ Delancy shook his head in disgust. ‘Still, as long as I turn a blind eye to his secret research, I can count on him to vote my way on every council debate.’
The Paragon cleared his throat and continued as he focused on his other Praefectus. “With Paragon Thea’s swift aid, over seven thousand of Fraydale's citizens have been rescued. Three thousand of which arrived on our doorstep yesterday afternoon. And we can expect additional numbers to arrive over the next few days.”
“Oh dear,” murmured Praefectus Tobias Gray, the Master Wizard of the Magic & Research Guild. The other Praefecti shook their heads in similar sentiment.
“With the help of the Merchant Banker’s Guild,” Delancy continued with a nod to Praefectus Xander Gaumond, “We have rounded up two thousand tents which the City Guard has spent all night setting up in order to provide temporary housing for these refugees.” He gestured to Praefectus John Larkin. “Our Commander has established a patrol of City Guards to keep order and help the refugees get organized. Warden Beatrix has selected two teams of Tirons and Materia to guard the perimeter of the refugees’ tents to keep out any rogue Gromulus and Siliks that might wander in and cause havoc.”
The Paragon nodded to each Praefectus, in turn, to thank them for their swift response. “However, despite having only just arrived at Highguard, the refugees appear to have organized themselves and selected a new leader, who has petitioned our council to grant citizenship to Fraydale’s displaced citizens.” He tapped the wrinkled document before him on the table and offered the tired group of praeditus an apologetic smile. “That is why I have called this emergency meeting, to discuss how to respond to Praeditus Bromwell’s request.”
“Their leader is a praeditus?” Praefectus Eli echoed incredulously. “Then he should be fully aware that’s not how this works. We can’t just take in two thousand refugees because they sign a bloody piece of paper!”
“As my esteemed colleague has said,” Arlo added with a shake of his head. “While I sympathize with these unfortunate refugees’ plight, Highguard has always had a system to determine citizenship. Applications must be filed and evaluated to determine the potential contribution before granting citizenship.”
“Naturally, I agree,” Delancy replied without glancing in the necromancer’s direction. “We should not slacken our procedures so easily.” The Hell Knight Champion laced his fingers together as he leaned against the Black Locust wood. “However, in light of Praeditus Bromwell’s request, I had the scribes pull the most recent census of Highguard’s current population from two moons ago, and we are dangerously close to reaching the limits of the Pillar of Dissonance shield.”
Murmurs of alarm quickly spread around the council chamber as many heads turned towards the Arcane Magus, Praefectus Tobias, who was feeding nuts to a purple squirrel nestling inside his beard. “That’s right, Logan, eat your breakfast. Oh yes, you do enjoy your nuts.”
Delancy repressed the urge to shout at the distracted Mage and instead faced his even more alarmed Praefecti. “As you all know, once we cross that threshold, every citizen of Highguard will be at risk,” he continued, aggressively raising his voice as he released a tiny sliver of his [Aura of Aggression]. The purple squirrel went as stiff as a pencil before it grabbed the nut from Tobias’s fingers and launched itself back into the Magus’s beard.
“Oh—what?” Tobias sputtered as he raised an alarmed gaze towards the council of Praefecti, all staring at him.
“Praefectus Tobias,” Delancy said with muted annoyance. “If you would be so kind as to explain further regarding the status of the Pillar and our current predicament.”