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Complete Series | Chapter Three |
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This is a compilation of all updates of Chapter Three of my series. Although I update this story every other day, feel free to come here to read any updates you missed, that way you don't have to search for them in my journal.
All updates will be listed as the current chapter, i.e., "1.1," "1.2," "1.3," etc. until we hit new chapters. 1.1 is chapter one, part one.
Ardid's halberd spun around his cloaked figure, creating a current of air around his body. His cloak billowed around him as his hood fell from his face. His brown eyes burned with determination. His hair hovered in the air around his head, and his beard was blown against his chest. The corners of his mouth were curling into a smile as he stepped forward, toward's the mast.
Looking up at the sails above him, he could see his target. A thin, masked shadow ran along the sails. Ardid could see that the assassin had put her crossbow on her back. From her belt, she drew two long daggers. She held them backwards in her hands, as if she were going to slam the blades down into her opponent.
Ardid spun the halberd once more and raced to the base of the mast. He jumped for the ladder and scaled the mast. As he climbed, he spun the halberd from one hand to the other, somehow managing to keep each hand free when they were needed to climb. When he reached level ground with the assassin, he pulled himself over the sails and faced the figure.
The assassin did not seem phased. The dagger's spun around the assassin's hands, the blades ringing in the air. The assassin caught them as they spun and crossed her forearms, creating somewhat of a shield with her arms.
Ardid pointed his halberd before him, straight at the assassin. He knew that attempting to communicate would be impossible. It could also leave him wide open, which would make him an easy target. He looked the assassin in the eyes, which were the only part of the assassin's face that he could see. The blue eyes reflected the moonlit waves of the bay. They burned with a determination similar to what burned in his own eyes.
The figure watched Ardid closely. Due to the assassin's lack of range and strength, they would be on the defensive for this battle. The hands around the daggers tightened their grip. The assassin could see the muscles in Ardid's arms tensing, preparing for some sort of attack.
In a flash, Ardid closed the space between them, keeping just enough reach for his halberd to be within range. The heavy blade spun around his body and fell toward's the assassin's left arm. However, the blade did not make contact. The assassin ducked and lunged forward, closing what space was left between them.
Ardid pushed his legs off of the heavy log that held the sails in place, diving over the assassin's daggers as they cut at his legs. He somersaulted and landed back onto the log. Desperately balancing his weight, he swung his halberd around him and turned to face his attacker again.
He swung his heavy blade horizontally, aiming for the assassin's stomach, but the assassin dove from the log. Grabbing the billowing sails, the assassin reached to its back, retrieving the crossbow. Ardid swung his halberd, preparing for the bolt to come at him, but to his surprise, there was more than one. He knocked the first one away, but barely dodged the second. A third and a fourth came afterwards, followed by countless more.
A repeating crossbow? Impossible! he thought to himself. His only chance at escaping the onslaught was to dive, just as the assassin had. He shifted his weight and let his body fall backwards, off of the log. His body spun once through the air, and when his face was right-side up again, he clung to the sails.
The assassin and he were now on opposite sides of the tough fabric. He watched as holes were torn into the fabric. The assassin was still firing the crossbow, and the bolts were nearing his location on the sails. He swung his halberd behind him and cut a large section of the sails open just above him. His weight pulled the sails downward and tore a large rectangular section out of it. As he fell, he used the momentum to swing to the assassin's side.
The shadow on the sails turned to face the oncoming threat. The section of the sails that the assassin's opponent had torn could not carry him all the way back up to his original height, so he let go of the section that carried him. He launched himself to the lower section of the sails and just barely caught a rope that was hanging from the log above.
The assassin aimed the crossbow at him and pulled the trigger, but the device had run out of bolts. After replacing the crossbow on their back, the assassin drew the daggers once more. The assassin's hands released their grip on the sails, dropping them to the lower log that held the sails in place.
Ardid watched as the assassin strolled toward the rope that he was desperately climbing. He held it with one hand as she came within range of his halberd. Swinging the polearm with one hand, the assassin stood quietly, just two meters away.
He could not climb any higher with his murderer so close to him. Instead, he let his hands slide down the rope, praying that he could make it to the deck before the assassin could cut the rope. He looked down at the approaching deck. The rope was scraping away the skin on his palms. He was roughly eight feet above the deck when he felt the rope go slack.
He landed on the deck and rolled to carry his momentum. Turning back to the sails, He watched as the assassin dove from its perch on the lower section of the sails. Ardid raced to the side of the ship and watched as the shadow splashed into the bay. He scoffed after watching the waves for a few minutes. His assassin did not return to the surface. "She got away," he stated angrily.
"How are you sure that it was a female?" Arvur asked, stepping up beside Ardid.
"I've fought hundreds of people through my time, brother. That assassin's acrobatics were not those of a man. Her posture was too feminine for that of a man as well. I find it hard to believe that this attacker was male."
Arvur nodded in agreement, scanning the waves still. "Well, that's that then, isn't it?" he asked, looking at Ardid.
Ardid turned to Arvur and hesitated for a moment. "What of Claude and Henr--"
"We're right here."
Ardid winced at the sound of Claude's voice, and he saw that Arvur's face was just as surprised. "Henrik! You were supposed to take him back to the guild hall!" Arvur yelled.
Ardid turned to the two men on the deck. He leaned against the railing and sighed heavily. His eyes met with Claude's. Neither men wavered for an instant.
"You're supposed to be dead," Claude stated coldly.
"And you're supposed to have short hair," Ardid joked emptily. No one laughed at the jest.
Claude's arms were crossed and his casual smile was nowhere to be found. Henrik was shuffling oddly by his side. "Henrik, how long have you known?" he asked, noting the suspicious behavior.
Henrik looked from Claude to Ardid cautiously. Ardid just nodded when their eyes met. "Since before it happened."
Claude didn't move. His eyes were firmly set on catching Ardid ablaze. His stance was solid. Ardid, on the other hand, had a relaxed posture and his eyes were sincere. He stared back at Claude until Arvur broke the silence.
"It seems that there is much to talk about. Why don't we settle this in the Grand Council Hall?" Henrik nodded at the proposition and began to step away. Ardid raised himself from the railing and stepped past Claude, patting his shoulder on the way. Arvur followed his brother quietly, glancing back at Claude occasionally.
Claude stood there for a while, watching the waves crash against the side of the ship. The moons were giving off a greenish light tonight. It matched how he felt inside: sick to his stomach and confused.
He began to clear his mind, attempting to think rationally about the events of the day. He connected the dots and tried to understand just what he had thrown himself into. By the time he had finished with his thoughts, the only thing he could say was, "So the old man is still alive, eh? Figures."
Memories came flooding back to him as the words left his mouth. He saw, in his mind, whips cracking against his back. He saw the tears of his younger self running down his cheeks. The memories transformed into an image of the black market. The slave trade. He remembered the man throwing a bag of platinum coins down on the table before the child. Next thing he knew, Claude saw himself in a different light. It was a calmer, brighter Claude. He was growing.
The memories pressed on. He could see the guild members before him. The officers were there, and the ones who would become officers were there. He saw Ardid, sitting adamantly beside him on the High Seat. He saw Lorelis down below on the Grand Council Hall floor. He remembered the other officers clapping as she bowed low. She would be appointed to the position of officer within the week.
His memories grew hazy as they progressed. They were darker, more violent memories. He saw Ardid once more. He was pressed up against a stone wall. He was in a pit. Several people lined the pit and poured a liquid into it, which flowed to where Ardid was. Someone tossed a torch into the pit. And then another person did the same. Several more followed suit, but it didn't matter. After the first torch was thrown, the flames roared up around Ardid, consuming him whole.
Claude opened his eyes. The Ardid and Arvur were down below, with Henrik at their side. The other officers were sitting at their Seats, blatantly confused. Claude eyed the three men below with dark criticism. Lorelis had her hands covering her face as she leaned her elbows on the podium before her. Victor had his arms crossed over his armor. His face was contorted into a confused, angered expression. Sylvestor sat quietly, with one leg crossing over the other. For once, he was not scribbling on parchment or reading a book.
Claude took in the Grand Council Hall before him. It seemed so much darker than it had been in the past. He sighed heavily and set his eyes on the men before him once more. Ardid stared up at Claude intensely, while Henrik and Arvur eyed the ground with guilt-ridden eyes.
Once Claude was satisfied with the scene before him, he spoke just loud enough for his voice to echo around the chamber.
"Here begins the trial of Henrik, Officer of the Intelligence Division; Arvur, brother of Ardid," he paused for a moment, hesitating to speak, but continued anyway, "and Ardid, former Guildmaster of the Council of Virtuous Parley."
"Henrik was just following orders!" Victor shouted across the room at Sylvestor.
He retorted with, "Those orders became null as soon as Ardid faked his death. If he had wanted you to follow those orders, he would not have relinquished his position as Guildmaster in such a way."
Lorelis nodded her head quietly. Her black hair fell about her face as she did so, hiding her disappointed expression. She did not speak, but the other officers had already noted that she was offended by the entire ordeal, and most likely would not speak for the remainder of the trial.
Ardid, Arvur, and Henrik stood silently in the center of the hall. Arvur stood cautiously beside Ardid, while Henrik was shuffling his feet back and forth anxiously. The Council had been arguing, just as they always did, and it brought a bit of reassurance to him.
Victor saw Lorelis' nod and was ready to shout her way when Claude's hand halted him. "That's enough, Victor. I would have followed the order as well. And you would have, too."
The Defense Division officer scoffed and sat back in his Seat. "Whatever you say, Claude, but this is clearly far more than just an order from a higher-up."
Claude shifted his gaze from the enraged officer to the three men below. "Ardid, I believe you owe us an explanation more than anyone else. So, pray tell."
Ardid's eyes were locked with Claude's. The silence between the two spurred a friction in the air unlike any that had been felt in the Grand Council Hall before. With a sigh, Ardid broke that silence, but the friction was stagnant. "Claude Faute, Guildmaster of the Council of Virtuous Parley, Successor to Ardid, former Guildmaster of the Council of Virtuous Parley." He stated the title as if it were supposed to mean something to Claude, but Claude did not react. He only waited for Ardid to continue.
"When I passed that title to you, Claude, I expected you to bring the guild out of the chaos that it had fallen into, and here you are, dragging it right back into that chaos." He took a step forward, raising his voice as he spoke. "I risked everything to put you in that position, and yet, you shifted. You shifted right back into the place that I had pushed you away from."
Claude was growing frustrated, and he stood from the High Seat. Placing his hands on the railing in front of his podium, he stared down at Ardid. "Without specific orders to stay away from whatever place you're speaking of, you, of all people, should have known that I would not keep my distance. Either way, I've no idea what you're speaking about, so why don't you be a little more specific?"
Ardid lowered his face and turned towards Arvur and Henrik. "Do you remember that day? Henrik, I ordered you to keep silent about the faking of my death, and you stood strong. Arvur, you went in my place to my grave. You faced the fires that were meant for me, and you survived. Do you both know how grateful I am to you?"
The two stood cautiously in front of Ardid and smiled. "We are forever indebted to you, as well," Arvur said, "but you still owe me more." The two laughed at the jest, and Henrik joined in, "Claude enjoys poking and prodding all day long, every day, so you can only imagine how hard of a time I had keeping your secret!"
Ardid smiled and patted his shoulder, "You did well, Henrik, old friend. Now, though, it has all been for nothing, and I apologize for that."
Arvur and Henrik bowed their heads silently, accepting the apology. Ardid turned back to Claude and began to spin his tale. "Claude, when I found you, you were a slave. You were helpless and insignificant to everyone around you. However, the same cannot be said for me. When I found you, I had completed more than just the recovery mission that I had been assigned by your brother. I completed a mission of my own."
Ardid paced back and forth in front of the High Seat, not making eye contact with Claude, who was silently watching him pace. "I had been searching for an heir -- a successor, of sorts. And when I found you, I knew that you were the one. You were emotionless and completely immune to provocation. You were physically fit and obedient. Who else would contain all of the qualities to make a perfect Guildmaster?
"It had been my plan from the start to mold you into the Guildmaster of the century. You were to be the greatest that the Council had ever seen! You have not disappointed me, and I do not believe that you ever will." He turned to face Claude once more, staring into his eyes.
"As the current Guildmaster of the Council of Virtuous Parley, Claude, you should be able to decipher my intentions. You, of all people, should have been able to understand why I took such drastic measures to relinquish my position as Guildmaster."
Claude's expression was critical and analytic. He did not seem to react to the bold accusation; however, on the inside, he was a mental wreck. His mind was examining all of the different possibilities that could have urged Ardid to fake his own death. None of the possibilities that he thought of came to the surface as plausible to him.
Ardid did not wait for Claude to give an answer, continuing with his explanation instead. "Even now, I cannot tell you the specifics that you are searching for. However, I will explain to you the situation that you are now a part of."
Claude turned away and stepped back to his podium. Facing Ardid again, he waved for him to continue. Perspiration was brimming on his white brows. This was the explanation that he had so anxiously waited for.
Ardid began to pace again as he spoke, "Before Arvur faked my death, the guild was on the verge of collapse. Last night's excursion had not been the first time that I had been face to face with an assassin of such high caliber. At one point, the assassination attempts became too dangerous for me to even be around the other guild members.
"I distance myself several times, and I even put distance between the two of us," he said, gesturing at Claude. "I cannot tell you exactly why I was targeted -- whether it was then or now. You will understand with time. However, at the rate that things had been going, I would have caused far too much destruction to the guild if I had stayed."
Claude struggled to compose himself. He raised his voice and began to question Ardid. "If that's the case, then why did you not ask the Intelligence and Defense Division for assistance in locating the organization behind the attacks? Didn't you have any sense of morality? How would you have known that the attacks would stop once you were gone? Were you so self-centered that you could only imagine yourself being attacked? I could have been next!"
Ardid sighed and waited for Claude to finish before speaking again, "The men that I had appointed to the investigation into the assassination attempts were all killed. When I replaced those men, they were killed as well. After the third batch of investigators were killed, I had lost all hope of receiving assistance with the matter."
Victor nodded his head solemnly, remembering that there was an attack on the guild hall that had resulted in the death of several of his men. They had been posted with the Intelligence Division troops by order of Ardid himself.
Ardid continued with his briefing. "Again, I cannot provide you with the explanation that you are so desperately searching for, but I can tell you that the attacks at Port 4-C and Port 2-B were related. You have brought yourself into a ring of assassinations, boy. You are, most likely, a target, now that you have intervened."
Claude's eyes narrowed as he heard the words leave Ardid's mouth. "What are you not telling me, Old Man?"
Ardid smiled wryly, watching as Claude grew flustered. "You will learn in due time. However, you will not be able to protect yourself or the guild without your fourth officer." He raised his left hand to Henrik as he made the statement, then continued to speak, "Of course, it will be difficult to proceed any further without mine and Arvur's knowledge of the situation, as well."
Claude gripped the podium, clearly frustrated. "Henrik, return to your Seat. Ardid and Arvur, I trust that you will share your knowledge of the Port 4-C and 2-B attacks. If you do not, the Council here will decide your fate, as per the Dozen Dicta."
Ardid nodded silently, accepting the terms. "I will not disappoint you, young master. After all, I wouldn't want my beloved successor being the target of a crazed organization, would I?"
Claude ignored the comment, and turned from one side of the room to the other. He sighed loudly, letting out all of his frustration in one large breath. "Members of the Grand Council of Virtuous Parley, all in favor of putting their knowledge to use, say so, or hold your tongue."
The proposition was passed by a three-to-two vote, making Ardid and Arvur official Council of Virtuous Parley information brokers. A room was made for the two men and was put under guard all night and day. The two were not to leave the room without authorization, and they were forbidden from leaving the guild hall.
Claude kept his distance from the two men, attempting to air out his frustration with the entire situation before he made contact with them once more. Claude did not know Arvur. The man was a secret known only to Ardid, which was why Arvur was able to fake Ardid's death so well. The two were twins, but Arvur's scars and experiences must have aged him much faster than his brother.
Sighing quietly, Claude continued to walk down the hallway. He was not certain where he was headed, so he just continued to walk, passing dorms, offices, and he eventually wound up in the Council Library. This was the storeroom of sorts for the Archiving Division.
When he stepped inside, he saw one of the librarians stocking the shelves and another librarian at the desk. The one at the desk stood at attention when he saw Claude pass through the two white, wooden doors. "Claude, sir, w-welcome to the Council Library! How may I help you?"
The worker's flustered attitude frustrated Claude, but he waved the librarian away, ignoring his question. He stepped further into the library and took in the sights. The room was incredibly long and octagonal. As he stepped into the center of the room, he could see that he was surrounded by shelves, and, looking up, he could see the glass window three floors above. Sunlight was pouring down into the room, illuminating the shelves and the books on them.
He could also see the different staircases that led to the other two floors above, where shelves were lining the walls. The library was an immense base of knowledge, and the Archiving Division was responsible for it all. Claude had realized that when he was younger. He relived his memories of walking up the steps, which seemed immensely smaller now that he was older.
When he reached the third floor, he stepped onto the bridge that spanned the center of the room. He looked up at the large glass window above him and watched as the clouds passed the guild hall by. He was so absorbed by the spectacle before him that he jumped when Sylvestor's hand fell onto his shoulder.
"I wasn't scared, I was just... surprised," he explained before Sylvestor could say anything about Claude's odd jump.
"Well, it's equally difficult to surprise you, so I won't complain," Sylvestor said, closing the book in his left hand. He straightened his glasses with his right hand and then clasped the two together behind his back. "You seem stressed, Claude. Is it the Ardid and Arvur matter?"
Claude leaned his back on the railing and looked up at the clouds again. "I suppose you could say that," he said. He was frustrated that his stress was so clear to the people around him.
"Well, I cannot say that reinstating Henrik was the best idea. However, your plan has evolved since the start. Just a few days ago, you were spouting about how you'll make money off of a shipment that hadn't even arrived yet, and now you're talking about assassinations and murder. It seems you've come a long way in just a few days." Sylvestor leaned against the opposite railing, sitting the book in his hand on it carefully. Once his hands were free, he straightened his crimson silk robe and tightened his belt gently.
Claude lowered his head to face him and watched as he straightened his robe. His short, black hair curled around his scalp and his glasses were beginning to slip off of his nose again, revealing his blue eyes. "Despite how much progress I have made, I feel as if I keep returning to the start. Especially now that I realize I know nothing as to what's going on in this guild."
Sylvestor nodded silently, straightening his glasses once more. He crossed his arms and looked up to the clouds. Seeing one that resembled an anchor, he began to attempt to lecture Claude. "While, yes, the guild has been keeping secrets from you, it is also true that you need the guild. And, without a doubt, it needs you as well. I believe that you and the guild keep each other in place, anchored to the ground, so that neither you nor the guild float away to an unsavory place."
He placed his hands behind him again, and sighed gently. "I do realize that Ardid meant a lot to you, and when he died, you must have been crushed. However, it's time to recover from that and accept the situation that you are in now. You are the Guildmaster now, and he is the former Guildmaster."
Claude looked at the ground and shifted his feet. "Indeed..." his voice trailed off after that one word. He had to react quickly when Sylvestor tossed the book on the railing to him. He caught the book in his hands and felt the momentum carry it to his chest. "You throw hard for a librarian," Claude taunted.
"Books are a lot of work, you know. Anyway, I found that after the trial, this morning. Give it a look, and you might like what you find." With that, Sylvestor stepped away, wandering down the steps to the floors below.
Claude looked down at the book in his hands and took in its features. The binding was leather and the book was thin, like a journal that someone had kept. It was extremely old, Claude could tell. The paper within its cover was yellowed and not well-kept. Turning it over in his hand, he read the title.
Ardid of the Council of Virtuous Parley,
by Lelantos III
Ardid and I were two of a kind at one point. I remember the days when we used to run around the Palace, shooting our wooden bows at each other. Our arrows would be featherless sticks and the bowstrings would be made from the Palace rugs. What children we were!
All that time, I never once asked my childhood friend what his plans were in life. Perhaps it was because I already had a hint as to what they were. Especially after I witnessed that sight. What a grand sight it was! Perfectly fitting for the likes of him.
Ah, yes, when I saw him up against those thugs, I couldn't imagine him in any other environment. He would run around the Palace with such a rowdy and dauntless attitude that I couldn't see him as a royal. At some point or another, I recall, Ardid had refused to sleep! He would eagerly run straight past his room, and he would continue running until he had found a place to hide in the Palace Gardens.
What a time it was to be alive. Arvur, however, was never that type. He was more timid and simplistic. His values did not revolve around causing a scene or being pain. He was scholarly and reserved, which was obviously in stark contrast to his brother! Strange, though, how the twins were nothing alike. I believe that the only thing they shared was their compassion for each other.
Now, when my father died, I remember seeing the two boys at the funeral. They were dressed in their finest clothing, but we could all tell that they were not at their best. For me, my father's death was a symbol of my rise to power. For them, my father's death was a symbol of their fall from grace.
I remember seeing them in the crowd. They were seated close to the front, and when the crowd stood for a moment of silence, I looked them over. Ardid stood proud and tall, but he was holding back his tears as he did so. Arvur, stood shakily from his seat and wiped the tears from his eyes, but they would not stop flowing.
I was seated farther away, closer to the front, and I faced the audience. My mother was next to me, and she stood, ready to give her speech. I think all three of us tuned out the entire thing. It was quite a lot to bear at the time, you see.
My father was a wondrous leader and an even more wondrous father. He was father not just a father to me, but he was a father to them as well. My brother had adopted the two into the royal family, but then died shortly afterwards when sailing to the Yellowdale Kingdom. My father took them in. "For your sake," he would tell me when I asked about them.
By Aias, when I first met the two, I could not stand them. Well, not Ardid, at least. I remember treating them quite badly, making fun of their heritage and their peasant background. How close-minded I was! As the years went by, however, I remember growing closer to the two boys, and, eventually, we bonded. We mourned for my father together, and they supported me during my coronation.
However, I suppose that was when things began to fall apart. My father passed, and I became the next emperor of the Lelantos Empire. I became much too busy and far too symbolic to play in the Gardens as we once did. Ardid confronted me once, asking if I would like to play with them, but I was forced to decline. This happened several more times. And then it happened several more times after that. Ardid and Arvur grew frustrated with my position, and Ardid came to speak to me.
We were teenagers at this point, and we did not understand how much of an impact we could have on each other. At some point, I recall Ardid punching me. What a good punch it was! It was the punch of an outsider -- a warrior, even! It was most definitely not the punch of a royal.
Despite what a wondrous punch it was, that punch sealed Ardid and Arvur's fates. They were exiled from the Palace and even from the city of Lelantos itself because of their violent acts against me. I had a bitter hatred for Ardid, and I watched as he and his brother followed the path down the Palace Gardens. It was the same path that we had run down several times in our childhood.
Looking away from the two, I began to huff and puff. I had difficulty holding it in, and eventually I couldn't anymore. I sobbed hard that day, and I refused to leave my room. I had lost my two closest friends, and it was my fault. Ah, what a troublesome young emperor I was.
However, I cannot imagine that Ardid would hold a grudge against me. Nor would Arvur, for that matter. The two were knowledgeable men, and they were tender at the core.
I know that I've mentioned Arvur several times in this journal, despite the fact that I titled it "Ardid of the Council of Virtuous Parley." Well, Ardid simply isn't Ardid without Arvur at his side. The twins have such an unbreakable bond, it's mind boggling!
Anyway, I made contact with Ardid once more quite some time ago. He is in a position of power himself! The Council of Virtuous Parley, Lelantos' greatest trading partner -- and he's its Guildmaster! When he fought with those thugs at the Imperial Plaza, I had always imagined him in such a position. He was tough and strong, unlike myself and the other royals.
Ah, but that is a story for another time. I have adopted a son, just as my brother did before me, and I have been observing him for some time, now. Ardid informed me that the child was trying to recover his brother, who was captured and forced into slavery.
I sent our fastest messenger bird, Ode, to Ardid, confirming that he could retrieve the boy--
Claude slapped the journal closed. The leather spine sat balanced in his palm, his fingers clasped around it to provide support. He shifted uncomfortably on the railing and lowered the journal to his side. "What an eye-opening discovery," he scoffed.
Lorelis dropped another coin from one side of her desk to the other, letting it fall onto the nearly two-foot high stack. She tossed a couple more coins onto the stack and then pushed the entire stack into a small bag. Tying it shut, she picked up her quill and poked a hole in the parchment before her. She grabbed the excess string from the knot she had made and tied the parchment to the cloth bag.
Smiling at her work, she read the tag once more. "50PP," was written on the tag, and when she finished admiring it, she called one of the apprentices over and handed the bag to them. "Add this to the Defense Division's budget. This has been deducted from the Intelligence Division as Henrik's alternate punishment."
Leaning back in her chair as the young woman at her desk took the bag, Lorelis sighed audibly. She wiped some sweat from her brow and looked at the stack coins on the left side of her desk. Grumbling, she pushed the coins back into the safe from which they came. She stood up from her desk and picked up the safe.
Placing it on a wheeled table, she pushed the heavy safe out of her office and out into the Financial Division's indoor plaza. It was a large area, complete with marble floors and stone pillars that reached up to the ceiling, which was lined with chandeliers to light the area.
The room was shaped like half of a pentagon, with just three sides and the exit, which was a hallway at the end of the semicircular wall. On the right side, when entering the Financial Division's plaza, one would see the offices, where Lorelis and others kept to their work. On the left side was the banking area, where members of the guild could come for loans or deposits and other business of the like.
However, in the center of the far wall was a staircase that was guarded by Defense Division troops and a large steel door. The staircase descended into the Guild Vault, where all of the guild's funds were kept.
Lorelis' dark blue dress waved as she stepped in rhythm with the cart's wheels. She hummed a tune as she grew closer to the vault, and she stopped to confirm her identity with the guards, who saluted to her as she continued to the steel door. Drawing a heavy key from around her neck, she placed it in the keyhole on the door.
Turning it until she heard a loud click, she gripped at the door's handle and pulled it open. A rush of wind came from within the vault as the door created a vacuum. Once she closed the door behind her, she pulled the cart along and began to descend the stairs carefully. Once she reached the bottom, she again withdrew the key and opened the door to the Intelligence Division's vault, which was the second one to the left.
There were four doors total. One door for each of the Divisions. From left to right were the Archiving Division, Intelligence Division, Financial Division, and the Defense Division, just as the Seats in the High Council Hall were ordered.
Stepping into the Intelligence Division's vault, she picked up the safe from the cart and placed it on a high shelf. There were several other safes in the room, all lining the shelves. They could only be opened by a senior official's Financial Division key, which belonged to roughly five members of the entire Division. The same went for the doors in the entirety of the vault.
Turning back to the cart, she picked out her quill and began to write her record of returning the safe and the transfer of funds from one Division to the other. She was just finishing her record when she heard the loud creak of the vault door behind her. She turned to face it as the door creaked shut and locked into place, stopping all of the light from the vault chandelier from entering the chamber.
 Ty-Harukii · Mon Jul 10, 2017 @ 09:47pm · 0 Comments |
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