The Governor's Office

A harried-looking secretary looks up from her desk.

"Right here, sir. What's going on? Is there something wrong?"

Her voice indicates that this is something she has to deal with on an almost daily basis.

The clerk sighs. This doesn't happen regularly, but it isn't the first time this has occurred.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir. It happens. Please fill out this complaint form and drop it in the box."

She hands him an unnecessarily complicated form and points towards a bin labeled "complaints". It looks suspiciously like a trash bin.

"He'll look through it within the next two weeks...probably."

Lighting a cigarette, the clerk leans back in her chair and hands Malcolm a pen.

"Have fun."

"I see how it is. Very well." Malcolm gritted his teeth, sighing. "I'm sure there are other ways to resolve this. Goodbye."

He spun around and strode out the door, closing it behind him. He was affronted, but he was not a savage.

"I beg your pardon? I am ex-Admiral Malcolm Fletcher of the Medanese Fleet, not some mere doorman... Who the hell are you?" Malcolm flared up, alarmed, amused, and irritated at the same time.

This irksome woman had insulted his position, when she clearly was in no place to. She looked barely a knight in some ridiculous set of armour.

"Believe me when I say this, girl. You aren't nearly half what you imagine you are. You certainly don't run half of Bayonné. And for God's sake, who the bloody hell is "Sani Sabik"?

Malcolm snapped straight back. He'd had a dreadful day, and this insolent young thing was merely the icing on the cake.

"The Coal District is a bunch of pathetic ingrates with no concept or idea how to escape from the desperate throes of poverty. How did you get that shiny set of armour? If you're from there, the only way you'd be able to get that is by stealing it. Who was your lucky benefactor, then. Some countess? Battlemaiden?" he snapped, his voice low and cold, refusing to let her past. She had riled him up, which, understandably, irritated him.

She held her little bow, and eye contact with the admiral.  When he refused to go on his way, she straightened back up, and stepped in closer, nose almost touching his.

 She growled in a low whisper "It would behoove you to reconsider your opinions of both my flock, and more importantly myself, I would not be caught dead sinking so low as to steal anything, nor would any member of the Sani Sabik, while men like yourself sleep in soft beds and stuff your fat faces with meats we patrol the streets purifying the population of criminals and keeping the rest alive with meager offerings of bread, what have you done for this city old man? What have you done for anyone other than yourself?  I know your type, you think the pretty little ribbons on your chest mean you've accomplished something? I prove my worth with blood, the blood of new mothers, the blood of wicked men, and the blood from my own veins, when's the last time you bled?"  

While she spoke, the constant eight guard members had taken up formation to either side of her, a square of four men behind her right arm, and four women to the left.  


She leaned in even closer and whispered right in the old man's ear "Wana make it today?"

Ahremen stood her ground as the admiral shoved past, ensuring their shoulders would make stiff contact. "Pft, men"

The eight guards relaxed a bit after he had made his way past them, loosening their grips on their weapons. "Wait outside" Ahremen instructed them, "we must make a proper first impression after all."

She tugged at her dress to flatten it out, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then once again reached for the door handle there was thankfully no more doormen to be found.

Ahremen found the secretary sitting in what appeared to be a half asleep stupor at their desk. She pulled a stiff white envelop from under her breast plate. She approached the desk with a polite smile on her face and in a soft voice spoke "Hello there, I have a letter of some significance for Lord Requin, and would be grateful to ensure that it reaches his hands with my own eyes." She held the letter out in her left hand while her right rested lackadaisically on the pommel of her sword.

Inside the envelope was a letter that read

Most joyful greetings Lord Requin,
Being a most busy man I am sure the growth of our little worship group may have escaped your notice, however, it would be most humbling if you would grant us an audience to discuss the possibility of official state endorsement in light of our improvements to the poverty and crime rates of your Coal District. I would be happy to provide a most delicious wine we craft ourselves, of course I understand a man of your station has many such meetings to attend and so would be most willing to travel to your office should that prove more convenient.
Respectfully yours,
Father Highlan Chamberlain.


(Did you guys know you can post from mobile? I'm gona get in trouble at work now lol)

Requires leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table.

"I see. An epidemic, you say? We have hospitals here, you know. Some of the finest healers in all the lands. Why don't we just, say, find whoever's afflicted and have them treated? This sounds like a plague of some manner. I suppose it could also be a curse, or, as you say, a parasite. What do you propose we do? You're the expert here. However, for obvious reasons, the city cannot be quarantined. If things get serious, we can issue a suggestion that people stay in their homes until it's solved."