Vhalar 71st Arc 718
Coordinator Rebekah Hawthrone’s office in the headquarters of the Order of the Mantis was not too difficult to find, especially so since Yana had been there once before already. Leather-bound file under one arm, the Yludih strode through the halls of the building. Swords –the soldiers of the Order—and detectives shot her some quizzical looks when they passed, but they did not stop her. Clerks ran from one room to another, ink stains on their fingers, and stack of papers in their hands. They were far too busy themselves to bother with her, which suited her just fine.
Soon she found herself standing before an ornate wooden door. It seemed to belong in a noble’s mansion more than a military base, but she’d known for a while now that the Mantis were a bunch of peacocks flaunting their power, funds, and favor of the King. The Yludih stared at the carvings momentarily, shaking her head.
Garish on top of excessive. Even a Venora wouldn’t think to have such a monstrosity made.
She knocked, knuckles rapping trice on the shiny varnished wood. A few moments passed before an answer came from inside, and Yana stepped inside.
The office itself wasn’t too bad. That is to say, the neatness of it.
Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere. Every single object, be it a permanent resident or temporary stay had its own space. Stacks of papers formed straight towers with no single sheet sticking out one way or the other. Though separate, the stacks themselves lined up perfectly with each other. So too did the writing utensils, meticulously placed and spaced on the pad on the desk. The ink pot stood in a little tray to prevent spilling on the wood –which looked very expensive.
In one word, pristine. Excellent. Full marks. Perfect score.
However. Furniture made from expensive wood, polished and shined. All metal trays and utensils looked to be silver. Bookshelves lining three walls, as if to show off the education and culturedness of the office’s resident. Expensive rugs lined the floor, large paintings were stuck to the one wall without a shelf. A side table had a silver tray with a crystal drinking glasses and a bottle of liquor on it.
Again, excessive, unnecessary and garish. Clearly the office of an important figure within the Mantis.
Behind the shiny desk sat coordinator Rebekah Hawthrone herself, having taken the time to remove anything she was working on between the knocking and her answer. Her hands were clasped in front of her, face folded in a perfectly polite smile.
“Ah, Captain … LaChausse, was it? I wasn’t sure you’d still stop by. I expected you a couple days earlier.”
“It is Captain LaChasse, Coordinator Hawthrone,” Yana monotoned. She now stood in front of the desk, face to face with the Mantis Official.
“Of course, my apologies. What can I do for you? I presume this is about Francis Higglebottom? I recall you came asking for our assistance in his capture?”
“Not exactly.”
The Yludih took the file from under her arm and offered it to Hawthrone. The woman paged through it for a moment, then placed it carefully down on her desk, making sure it was perfectly parallel to the edge of her pad.
“What am I looking at, Captain LaChasse?” Her eyes sought Yana’s, gaze sharp and pointy.
“Exactly what it says on the title page, Coordinator,” the Yludih responded without missing a beat. “This is the complete file of the Scalvorian Maniac case we have been working on since the fortieth of Vhalar. I figured you might recognize the composite sketch we had made of her. Page five, I believe.”
“Your point, Captain?”
“I would like to know if you are aware that your newest Ashcloak is a dangerous criminal who has been rampaging in and around Andaris ever since her arrival here? Inside the file you will find reports of homicide, arson, assault and battery, vandalism and destruction of property, robbery, and intimidation. Several instances of each, I might add.”
No real response came from the other side of the desk. No ripple of emotions that might signify this was news to the woman. Just as feared, then. The little smugness Yana had felt swapped places with righteous indignation.
“So you knew.” Accusatory, though only slightly so. Mostly disappointed. She sighed. “I had hoped this would not be the case. You knew all that and you still offered her a position in the Mantis?”
“Captain LaChasse,” the Coordinator spoke, “Yes, we—I knew of her criminal past in Scalvoris, and of the sentence she served there. I’ll admit that much. However, until now I didn’t know of this … impressive list of crimes committed on Rynmerian soil.”
The Yludih straightened. “Then--?”
“But this will not change anything.”
“Page seven. Witness statements describe her spraying acid from her hands and summoning clouds or mist. That sounds like magic to me. Did you know she is a mage herself?”
Hawthrone sighed. “A common mistake to make. Look, Captain LaChasse, surely you don’t believe we don’t screen our own members? I can assure you that Maxine has been thoroughly examined by experts, and no witchmarks or mutations were found. In short, she is no mage.”
It had been a stretch, and the Yludih had expected the Mantis to be a little bit competent when it came to their expertise. She sighed. “Marked then?”
No verbal response, but a shrug and a nod. Affirmative.
“So you burn mages, but not marked. Feels like a contrived distinction. They each have equal amounts of potential to do harm.”
“I beg to differ. Back to the topic at hand. Maxine is one of us now, and it will stay that way. This case will be removed from the archive. I assume a copy was made and archived, as standard procedure prescribes?”
This time it was Yana’s turn to respond with silence. As she’d feared, an entire case worth about half a season of hard work would vanish into thin air. Everything would be swept under the rug. Evidence, reports, composite sketches, testimonies, the murders… Her brow furrowed in frustration.
“I do not agree with your methods, Coordinator,” the Yludih eventually spoke. “I find them distasteful, unfair, and rather unjust. Any who carries a spark is guilty? Absolute drivel. Magic is a tool to be used--”
“Careful. Those are words laced with treason, Captain.”
“There were good people in the Hand with a spark. Useful people. Magic itself is neither good nor evil, just like a blade is. It is a tool. The user decides what it is used for. Good deeds, or atrocities. Maybe something in between. But you do not see things that way, do you? You either are a mage, or you are not. You either get burned at the stake, or you do not.” There was a brief pause where their eyes locked, neither woman looking away. ”Imagine hunting people down because they own a knife. A tool like any other. Could be used for slicing food in the kitchen. For defending yourself if necessary. For murdering people too. Imagine hunting down every single person owning a knife, and then burning them at the stake. No matter what they used their knife for. How ridiculous does that sound? That is what the Mantis feels like to me.”
“Captain LaCh--”
“I am not finished yet. I despise this organization and what it stands for. However, I put up with it. I worked with you. Why? Well, I reasoned that in essence, though your methods and ideology were fundamentally misguided, your purpose was the same as ours. Protection of the people of Rynmere. Enforcement of the law. But then you pull a stunt like this. A dangerous criminal rampages through the city, without regard for anyone's safety, hunting a mage. She kills innocent people, beats up those she interrogates, smashes interiors, burns ships, frees and runs of with a fucking slave AND gets a little boy killed! And what do you do? Do you arrest her and put her on the pyre? No! You welcome her with open arms. ‘Oh, good job, Maxine. Way to go, taking down that villainous mage!’ Her crimes are swept under the rug. Those are not important. Carrying a spark though? The worst atrocity anyone could commit! You know what the Becomer that started this spark purge did? He threw a door at the King. A fucking door. Not even to kill. A tantrum, that was all. But, you know what, you are right. That is way worse than Maxine her spree.”
“He did far more than that, though,” Hawthrone retorted before being cut off.
“Oh, he absolutely was a dangerous menace that had to be put down. I agree fully with that assessment. He killed several of the guards trying to apprehend him. By all means, he should be executed or incarcerated for life. I do not disagree at all. However, the actions of one should have no bearing on the lives of others sharing some vague similarity with him. What if he had not been a mage? Just an individual blessed with extraordinary strength? Would the King have decreed to have all physically capable people captured and executed? Everyone with a beard, perhaps? Or everyone of his race? I think not. Why would magic be any different? Why would you excuse the crimes committed by an equally dangerous maniac, this time sparkless? What does it matter if they are a mage or not?”
“Again, Captain LaChasse, our opinions differ. I read in your personal file you were born and raised in Etzos, so I understand that the views you hold may and do differ drastically from those of the people of Rynmere. Mistaken as they might be, I cannot fault you for that. I also understand that it frustrates you to see your hard work be dismissed and ignored. Truly, the Mantis and I appreciate your efforts. However, Maxine is a special case. Her potential is phenomenal. She made some regrettable missteps in her life, yes. Her attitude is abrasive and chafing. By all means, she is not what I would call an ideal recruit. I don’t condone the list of crimes she has committed in Rynmere or anywhere else.”
“Then she should face the consequences,” Yana butted in.
Hawthrone raised a hand. “Let me finish, please. Maxine is a unique case. She has an abnormal amount of experience with hunting mages. Her methods are questionable at best, indeed, but we will work to fix those. There is great untapped potential within her, Captain LaChasse. All she needs is a chance. She can change, I’m sure of it. Surrounded by the discipline and righteous ideals of the Mantis, she will be reformed into a model soldier. She will help keep the peace by hunting down any and all mages within the whole of Rynmere. Additionally, she has access to some powerful artefacts which we would like to study. As a whole, Maxine’s recruitment is a means to an end that will aid the entire population in due time. Call it an investment. As I said, I don’t condone her methods, the crimes committed. She has the right idea but the wrong way of executing it. We will straighten her out. If it helps, consider her the lesser of two evils.”
“It does not, and I cannot.” The Yludih sighed, face skyward for a moment. Eyes glancing at the garish paintings on the wall behind the desk. “Can we at least punish the slave Mina for escaping, and return her to her rightful owner? Someone should face the consequences, perhaps it will be a lesson to this Maxine.”
“I’m afraid we can’t. Maxine and Mina are childhood friends, and we need her to keep Maxine controllable.”
“She’s a hostage, then.”
Coordinator Hawthrone pursed her lips. “Leverage. We’re not holding her at blade-point. We have given her some quarters to stay in, accommodate her wishes. She has some sway over Maxine, which will help our cause tremendously. She’s an asset in her own way. A reason for Maxine to stay.”
“Then you better be subtle about it, Coordinator. From what I have seen, Maxine does not strike me as the type to forgive such manipulations.”
The woman shrugged, then brushed an invisible dust particle from her desk. “Perhaps, but we don’t plan to rely on it forever. Soon enough Maxine will fall in line, and no such measures will be necessary. She needn’t find out.”
“And does she want to be reformed? Has she expressed any interest in changing her ways?”
The silence that followed weighed heavily in the room. Hawthrone busied herself with lining up her writing utensils.
“Allow me to give a bit of advise, Coordinator. People like her bring chaos and disaster wherever they go. They are not able to thrive within a rigid organization. They cannot place the needs of the many over those of their own. Sooner or later, this woman, this criminal you allow to roam without leash? She will thrash another tavern, burn another boat, get another child killed. But this time, you, your men and your order will be the tavern, boat and child. Mark my words, Coordinator Hawthrone, this goodwill you show her will be repaid with a knife in your back.”
Hawthrone’s expression darkened.
“Your concern is duly noted, Captain LaChasse. If you have nothing else to discuss, I assume we are done here?”
"Quite. I will waste no more words on the ears of those who refuse to listen. Good day.”
She turned and walked towards the door. Though her expression betrayed very little, her anger and frustration could be seen in her step, and heard in her choice of words.
“Captain LaChasse?” Hawthrone called out.
Yana, hand on the doorknob, turned reluctantly.
“I will send someone to the archives to collect the copy of this file.” The Coordinator wriggled the case file in her hand. “And I’ll have someone search your office for a second copy. I assume there are no objections?”
“Not at all, Coordinator,” the Yludih replied, having expected such a thing long before entering the office.
“Good. I expect you to cooperate fully during the search. Understood?”
“Yes, Coordinator.”
“Splendid. You may leave now. Good day.”
Without delay, the false Eídisi stepped outside the room, slamming the door closed behind her.
