Wychling

Chapter 34

Shimon walked slowly, exhausted, up to his office. He had never talked to the Mayor himself, but he had never thought much of the self-interested little man. Gods, he didn't have much use for politicians in general, who did? This particular politician was in charge of them all though, and he had a habit of saying one thing, and doing another entirely.

It had caught more than one Watchman flat-footed when dealing with the more privileged members of society. He carried himself with the utmost self-importance, which made dealing with him directly an absolute headache. Luckily, Shimon wasn't senior enough to have that particular burden. So why did he want to see Shimon tonight?

~Rioters in the streets, or the murder of Acolytes?~

Shimon knew that the Mayor had supported several key members of the Church of the One God in their election to power. He sighed, trying to piece together a brief from the information he had gathered at the scene this morning.

In amongst all of the rest of the chaos, he hadn't made any progress on the investigation, but allowing the Mayor to know that would end badly. No matter how ridiculous he might be as a man, he had power, and that made him dangerous. Shimon had made the mistake of getting involved in the games of the powerful before and it had cost him everything...

~Never again, My Love. I was your fool, but nobody is that great a fool twice in a lifetime~ he spoke to his Wife in his usual internal patter, as his mind brushed against days long since dead.

Those dark times from long ago pulled at his mood, threatening to drown him in emotion, but it always faded to bitterness and depression in the end. So instead of engaging his, still white-hot anger, he let it simmer in his stomach, fuel for the coming struggle.

Sometimes it felt as if all of that was years and miles before, but it never really left him. Occasionally it would all surface with enough force to leave him unable to feel anything else for days at a time. In those moments he headed to the practice grounds.

It was the reason that he was still in such excellent shape, despite being well past his youth, and quite probably the source of the awe and respect the other members of the Watch held him in. Control was paramount in this moment though. He had better be in the here and now if he wanted to get through this next situation whole.

He proceeded along an ornate corridor, that he had always hated, and paused in the doorway of his cluttered office. The chaos underlined with an order only he truly understood.

~If nothing else that might make me indispensable~ he chuckled grimly to himself.

The lights were out, and he couldn't see the tight space clearly, his chair was facing the thin-slitted window at the back of the room. He couldn't recall if that was how he had left it, but something felt wrong.

The Mayor spent his life trying to stand out, to be the centre of every room. He wouldn't be standing in the dark, in a Sergeant's office. Perhaps he was upstairs with the Captain? He stepped into the room looking for a note, or any signs at all on the cluttered desk, but before his eyes locked onto anything interesting, he was startled by a familiar voice that came from his chair.

"-Shut the door please, Sergeant." It squeaked.

The high-pitched voice held a tone of assumed authority, as if he had walked in on Brother Ryland's space, not his own.

~Well, might as well get off on the right foot~

"I'll be leaving my door open...thank you." He replied curtly.

There was a deliberate pause and a tone just this side of disrespect that he had learned to use with those of 'higher station'. Even in a democracy there were still people who considered themselves above such petty things as 'the law'. His tone was one he had mastered in his years as a Watchman. It was, what he considered, a fair warning to the pompous and dim-witted that he was aware of their station, and that it didn't impress him.