Barnaby, tasked with the disposal of Flash Bearak weeks ago, sat rigidly on a hard wooden bench in the waiting room of the Whimster's Patrol and Officer Management 4th division(The Watchman like Aresndich but different division). The corridor was silent, saved for the sharp crack of boots on stone floors. The walls were bare, drab gray stone that seemed to absorb any hint of warmth or light, mirroring the sinking feeling in his gut. His hands were clammy, his collar damp and the cheap tunic he wore felt suddenly too tight under the oppressive quiet.
A door opened with a groan and a woman emerged: Ms. Audrenia Judis, the secretary. She was an austere woman with a severe bun and folding papers of parchment tucked under her arm. Her tone was judgmental, her gaze cool as she fixed her glasses on him.
"You applied for a part-time position within this division, Mr. Barnaby?" she asked, her voice as dry as the parchment she held.
Barnaby jumped to his feet, nearly stumbling. "Y-yes, ma'am. I... I want to serve the In other places Within the Dukedom."
"Your application is unusual, You currently Work In Service of The Duke Correct?" she Asked, ignoring his stuttering and continued. "We typically look for stronger character references. Tell me, were you given any orders recently that you failed to follow? An assignment that was as simple as Disposal?" The question was calm, but the implication was clear: she knew everything.
Guilt surged through Barnaby. Seeing no point in trying to lie any longer, he answered honestly, confessing his failure to dispose of the infant. "I couldn't do it, Ms. Judis. It was a baby. I couldn't."
Ms. Judis sighed, adjusting her glasses again. "Alas.....You won't get the job here, Mr. Barnaby. Your lapse in judgment is a liability. However," she continued, cutting him off before he could protest, "I already know you applied here as a way to avoid trial for insubordination. I have a guest you could meet. If the private meeting goes well, you could secure a job elsewhere with a cover.....Fiancially and Publicly of course, or a plausible redemption in court through a representative."
Dread washed over Barnaby again, a life of servitude or a public execution flashing before his eyes. But then, a chance a way out without a noose. A gamble worth taking. He nodded his acceptance.
He followed her down the stark corridor and into a long hall lined with identical wooden doors. She opened a singular door Lightly pushed him in "You may Enter Hurry The guest Is not the patient type" She said before She slammed The door shutting it behind him, the lock clicking home with a definitive thunk.
Barnaby entered the room, the lingering sweat on his collar instantly feeling cold. The space was thick with a strange, warm fog and smelled faintly of old wood and something herbal. He heard a deep hearty
, an enthusiastic voice from the center of the room.
"Pardon my rudeness, I can't face you as of now I hope you can forgive me my facial scars are displeasing to say the least..." the man said, gesturing to a seat behind him as his back remained turned. The man was practicing the violin, his playing sharp and energetic, full of rapid, ascending [High-soprano like, Violin Keys]. "Come, sit down on any seat you'd like, Mr. Barnaby."
Barnaby cleared his throat and sat down nervously as they finished their formalities. The man abruptly stopped playing, ending on a jarring, off-note, and let out a heavy sigh. He finally turned around, his face obscured by the persistent fog, a silhouette against the single window.
"You know, I have a job for you. It doesn't require anything much. Just sign this paper for me, or you can go back to the Duke's mansion if you so please. It's your choice Remember it's your choice"He pulled out a parchment. "Your new job will be a janitor at the church of Evangeline Ranch. I'd recommend you not be so humble and uptight. Relax a bit. As you know the Church expects Even the Janitorsto be approachable,oh and have some tea while you're at it."
He gestured to a prepared cup of fragrant tea on a small table. Barnaby, seeing the simple terms and policies, hesitated. A janitor? At the Ranch? Away from Whimster? It's perfect. A clean slate. He picked up the quill and, with shaking hands, signed the contract.
He took a cautious sip of the tea, which was sweet and soothing. He and the man began to talk about their day. The conversation was deceptively regulatory, about working under people and voicing opinions.
"So many people feel trapped working under others, don't you think?" the man said, his voice was smooth and relaxing, as he picked up the violin again. The notes he played were now low and humming, a gentle, looping melody [Soothing, Repetitive Violin Notes].
"Yes, sir," Barnaby agreed, the tea making him feel strangely warm and compliant. "Sometimes you just want to... do your work and not worry about politics."
"Exactly," the man said warmly. "You don't need to voice opinions all the time. Just do your best, keep your head down, and everything works out. Life is simple when you accept your place." The notes flowed around Barnaby, a hypnotic sound [Deeper, Calming Violin Notes].
Barnaby listened, the soft voices in his head telling him to relax, to let go of his guilt. He didn't notice the shadows in the corners of the room seeming to twist and stretch with glee. He was falling for the deception, his eyes going numb and hollow as the tea finally took hold. He fell asleep, slumping in the chair.
"Earlier than expected," the man, now revealed as Vagarous, said to himself with a chuckle, still playing the violin. "Ms. Audrenia, could you come take him away to his new corridors? , our task here is complete. He's to start a week from now. The next day by noon, have a carriage ready for me. I'll require this to be handled as fast as we can. After all, we have important business to take care of."
Ms. Audrenia came in just then. "At once, Sire."
He Chuckled softly his voice a resonance throughout the and and vibrating Throughout the corridors, as she used her wind magic to lift the unconscious Barnaby and float him out of the room. "I told you, Vargon will do just fine. Call the other members to call off the meeting I'm postponing it To focus on the expedition I planned, Just reschedule it our Trip is awfully long, The expedition should be about six months."
Meanwhile, far away in Airabel, it was late morning. The clouds were dark, promising an early autumn rain. Ms. Anscalt had just arrived at the harbor with baby Flash. Her son, Riven, was waiting for her, standing alone near the docks in casual attire.
As she neared the harbor, she got off the boat almost last. She and Riven quickly moved to a corner, embracing in a tight, overdue hug, the smell of the sea and damp wood filling their senses.
"It's good to see you, Riven," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Why hasn't your wife come? I heard you got married?"
Riven smiled faintly. "Sela was resting, Mom. Didn't want to be bothered this early in the morning."
Ms. Anscalt chuckled, making a few comments and jokes about Sela sleeping in before carefully handing Flash to Riven. When Flash opened his eyes, his small face frowned a bit before he coughed and wiggled his body, not accustomed to Riven's cold hands. He whined softly but didn't cry.
Ms. Anscalt exhaled and cleared her throat, tired but relieved. "Lead the way, son. I'm beat and need to relax." She showed him the small, resilient potted plant she had brought as a souvenir.
He smiled, shaking his head. "Mother, you didn't have to. Your gifts are at home as well. You'd be surprised at what we got for you."