Shortly before sunrise, Michael Seidon pulled on his second favorite coat, left his spacious house, and headed out into the city. Like shadows cast by a lantern, his [Bodyguards] – Roland and Eize – materialized slightly behind him, and he greeted them both with a polite nod. Roland was a burly kitrekin with brown fur and smart eyes. Level twenty-nine. Liked pancakes. Eize, on the other hand, was a wiry salamander with blood red scales. He was only level twenty-seven, but won almost every practice bout held between the members of Seidon's security detail.

In as close to perfect silence as the trio could manage, they made their way toward the council office. Seidon – he never thought of himself as Michael anymore – relished the first splotches of orange and yellow rising over the horizon. The air was cool yet, though the city's [Weather Forecaster] had promised that it would be a bright and sunny day.

Tucked under the councilman's right arm was a lumpy stack of papers and folders: the work that he'd been trying to finish up the night before. Unfortunately, his body had betrayed him just after midnight and he'd fallen asleep without getting it all done. That was a frustratingly common occurrence, and Seidon hated the way it pushed his entire day's schedule back, but there was no genuine alternative to going through all the documents himself.

At the suggestion of a few of his fellow council members, he'd tried [Assistants] – three times, in fact! – but no matter who he hired he always ended up doing all the work himself anyways. As such, he decided to save himself the frustration and simply accept that reality from the outset.

An awkward bit of curb sent him stumbling, but thanks to his…extracurricular pursuits, Seidon was Surefooted and avoided losing his balance. He did, sadly, drop a few of his papers. Sighing, Seidon crouched down to pick them up, grateful that the ground was dry and relatively clean. All he needed to do before tucking them back into place was brush a bit of dirt off the corner of one and half a worm off another.

Certainly could have been worse.

Paying greater attention to where he stepped, Seidon crossed the street, activating one of his most important [Politician] skills – [Winning Smile] – and waving heartily to an elderly carriage [Driver] – Sam Donaleso, his [Knack For Names] told him – who was making an early morning delivery.

[Personable Public Figure] kicked in too, filling Seidon's head with other details about the man. Mid-to-late sixties. Married for more than forty years. Three kids, five grandkids. Worries about the cost of food, clothes, and shoes.

One stream of details was replaced with another when Seidon made eye contact with a green-scaled salamander woman who was carrying a bag of flour over her shoulder. Keilee Truhk. Thirty two years old. Unmarried, no children. [Baker] by day, Aspiring [Socialite] by night. Really worried about the [Pickpockets] that hang around the carriage station on account of having been robbed twice when collecting supplies.

Feeling the first twinges of pressure in his forehead that heralded an unpleasant day, Seidon paused at the next corner, closing his eyes and swaying back and forth. The steady drip of names and life stories could be overwhelming if he didn't keep it under control, and while that was normally easy enough for him to do given his years of experience as a [Politician], his lack of sleep was making it harder that morning.

It took the council member a few minutes to settle his thoughts, but eventually the little voice chattering away in his skull quieted down and Seidon resumed his walk. In the hopes of avoiding any further swells of facts that were useless to him at the moment, he stared down at his shoes and quickened his pace.

The council's office was tall and imposing, with walls of stone and enchanted windows that were impossible to see through from the outside. Its roof was pointed, its door was wide and cavernous, and the building as a whole exuded a solemn, rarified air. Seidon rather liked that: keeping the population awed and perhaps a bit intimidated was job security for those who governed.

Unlike several of the other cities around the continent that fell into…disorder every few years, Oar's Crest had remained quite stable throughout its history. Sure, there was the occasional spot of trouble with the fiends within the city's abandoned sprawl or monsters from the overrun groves just outside the walls, but such things were inevitable and the adventurer's guild and the [City Guards] did a fine job of keeping both problems at bay these days. Even if they hadn't, fiends and beasts were an easy problem to handle and certainly far preferable to the rabble-rousing leeches that paralyzed some of the city's neighbors with their poor understanding of governance and their worse understanding of economics.

Seidon shuddered, thanking Gawain and Piper both that no charismatic charlatan had yet emerged to tempt the city into ruin. Or rather, worse ruin. Few people understood as well as Seidon did that contrary to popular belief, no matter how low you started there was always another level or three below.

So long as he had breath in his body Oar's Crest would never fall into such nonsense.

"If only more people appreciated how hard it is to keep things so stable," Seidon muttered wistfully, gently touching the small tool he always carried in his pocket and opening the door to the council office.

He stepped inside, taking a deep breath and holding it until he acclimated to the building's…unusual scent, which was a mixture of lemon cleaning solution and stale air.

Roland cleared his throat. "Did you say something, sir?"

"Just talking to myself," Seidon answered, looking down the long hall that led to the stairs that would take him up to his office. There was nobody there, which was good. He paused briefly to chat with Wendilee, the white-haired elkin [Receptionist] with crimson eyes who didn't need to sleep on account of being a fairly high level [Twinscale Moon Acolyte]. Seidon wasn't sure exactly what level she was for such things were closely guarded secrets, but he had it on good authority that obtaining the Everwaking status wasn't generally possible for people under level thirty and relatively uncommon for those under level forty.

Not for the first time, he wondered why such a person was content to serve as an office [Receptionist]; surely there were other pursuits that were a better use of her time. Seidon didn't let the question linger for long: people had their own reasons for doing things and he had enough clutter in his thoughts as it was without going out of his way to add more.

"Good morning, Wendilee. Did anything exciting happen overnight?" Seidon asked, activating [Winning Smile] once again and leaning on the desk. He reached over and grabbed a small piece of candy from the dish the elkin kept near the pamphlet holder – which was empty once again – and unwrapping it before he popped it into his mouth. Seidon chewed and then swallowed.

Yum. Strawberry flavor.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the elkin answered, smiling and organizing a small stack of papers that she handed over to Seidon. "Here are the day's requests, sir. They all need your signature."

Internally grimacing at the prospect of yet more work to do that morning, Seidon took the papers and bid Wendilee a good rest of her day.

With the pressure in his head steadily building, the council member headed up to his office.

Roland and Eize took their places next to the office door, crossing their arms in front of their bodies and activating [Steady Legs]. The skill would help keep them from tiring during their shift, and Seidon settled into his luxurious desk to get cracking on his day's labors. It was nearly sixth morning bell, which meant that there was just over two hours before his first scheduled meeting, and the council member hoped that he could make some substantial progress on his paperwork before then.

Grabbing the shiny black, fountain pen with gold trim that he'd gotten custom made for himself upon his first election to the council, Seidon turned his attention to the first paper of his stack and began to read.

It was a request from the Guild of [Charcoal Burners] for an additional license to go out into the old groves and harvest additional emberberry wood. Apparently the city's recent demand was outstripping their ability to supply charcoal to the people and businesses who were too poor for enchanted heat crystals, and without an additional stream of wood coming in there'd be a shortage within a month.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Scowling, Seidon read the request again to make sure he hadn't missed any details. A charcoal shortage was one of those things that absolutely needed to be avoided. Even with the weather changing on account of the season, people still needed a way to keep warm, and not nearly enough Oar's Crest citizens could afford enchanted heating crystals.

With a thrill that was no weaker for having happened so many times, Seidon signed the request and stamped it, setting it in the small tray he kept on the left side of his desk afterwards. It, and any others that he placed there, would be delivered to the relevant offices before Seidon headed down to the morning's first meeting.

One paper down, far too many to go.

The next document was an agreement for the upcoming [City Guard]'s bonus, which was the second in the last twelve months. Seidon didn't like the prospect of having to continuously give out additional fleurs from the city's anemic treasury, but those who enforced the law – like so many other things in the city – were a lever that needed to be carefully balanced.

As such, Seidon signed that request too, adding a brief note to the [City Guardmaster] that he hoped would quell any desire for a third bonus anytime soon.

The document after that actually didn't need Seidon's signature; it was merely a copy of one that he'd already signed, and the council member made a mental note to remind Wendilee that copies of things intended for his records were to be delivered at the end of the day, not the beginning.

From there, Seidon fell into a steady rhythm. He signed off on requests for permits, tax revenue waivers, and all manner of other things that would take fleurs out of the city's coffers, but had barely put a dent in his stack when Roland politely informed him of the time.

Gathering up the fruits of his morning's labor, Seidon stood up and headed back downstairs, depositing papers at the other relevant offices on the way before heading across the building to the conference room where the council meeting was scheduled to be.

He was, as always, the first one to arrive. Just once it would have been nice for someone else to get there before he did. Rubbing his temples and feeling the first stirrings of his darkest urges, Seidon grabbed the empty jar on the table and took it down the hall to fill it with water. When he came back, he poured it into the coffee pot and traced the etching on the crystal near its bottom. Like all Maluw crystals, the enchantment activated immediately, and soon the room was filled with the pleasant roasting scent of coffee.

Pouring himself the first cup and sitting down, Seidon looked at the clock and shook his head. There were only two minutes until the meeting was supposed to start, and nobody else had arrived yet.

Not for the first time, a surge of contempt for his fellow council members flashed through Seidon's mind. They were never late when it was time to shake hands and hobnob with the people who funded their campaigns – or to enjoy the fine cuisine of high society fundraising events. Why couldn't they be similarly punctual when it came to doing their actual job?

Again, Seidon's fingers found the small tool in his pocket, and the familiar sensation of the cold metal soothed his heart. He stayed like that until the first of his peers found their way to the meeting room, then let his hands rest in his lap.

"Good morning, Mister Seidon," the man – Council Member Charlie Wallatin – said with a wide grin. Wallatin was a scrawny ginger kitrekin who'd only been on the council for a year or so. He was young – having only turned twenty-four a few months prior – and enjoyed hearty support from the kitrekins of Northtown, who'd been the driving force behind his election. He was also something of a degenerate gambler, making regular trips to the kitrekin casino outside of town and tossing fleurs around like they were well wishes at a birthday party.

"Same to you, Mister Wallatin," Seidon replied calmly. He looked at the clock again before leaning forward and tapping the table twice with his index finger. It was already seven minutes after eighth morning bell.

"Any bets on how long it'll take the rest of our esteemed colleagues to arrive?'

Wallatin shrugged.

The conversation remained thusly satisfying for the next thirteen minutes. At eighth bell and twenty, Seidon sighed and started the meeting.

"We are here this morning to begin our deliberations on the adventurer's guild expansion project," he said. "However, with only two members present we lack the numbers necessary for quorum. As such, I have no choice but to declare this meeting canceled, barring the arrival of at least three more members within the next fifteen minutes. Objections?"

Wallatin shook his head, reaching up with a claw and using it to pick something out from between his teeth.

With the pressure in his forehead almost to the splitting stage that would render him inert for the rest of the day, Seidon bid the kitrekin farewell and returned to his office, straining his Self-Control to its limits in his attempt to keep his face neutral.

What a waste of time that had been!

After shutting the door twice – doing so was almost as good as a proper slam and far less noticeable – Seidon returned to his desk. Roland and Eize went to take their positions, but Seidon shook his head and gestured for them to leave.

"Return in two hours," he said. "I would like to work by myself for a while."

His [Bodyguards] nodded and did as he directed, filing out of the room silently and leaving the council member to his furious thoughts.

Shaking his head, Seidon stood up and jerked open the topmost drawer of his desk. Inside was a box of cigars – a gift he'd gotten from Mister Sacre, in exchange for looking the other way on a bit of permitting trouble – and Seidon grabbed one. He lit it and inhaled deeply, relishing the flavor and allowing the smoke to carry away some of his frustration.

Alas, the smoke did nothing for the pressure in the back of his skull, and Seidon decided that he'd have to go for a bit of a walkabout to calm down.

Smiling, he went to his closet, taking off his precious coat and vest and hanging them up in their designated place. Being in shirtsleeves felt freeing, as it always did, and Seidon rolled his shoulders as he grabbed his nondescript replacement from its hangar. The other coat was reassuringly heavy, and Seidon pulled it on as he approached the back wall where a much smaller mirror hung.

It was an old, tarnished thing, with a beautiful black gemstone socketed into the rim. Much like the cigars, this too had been a gift, albeit one from a woman Seidon had never met – his predecessor Aruzia Clemball.

She'd been…a fascinating woman, leaving all sorts of interesting trinkets and journals around the office from times long since past, and Seidon had learned much from their study.

"Just a bit of fun, eh? A little fresh air to clear the mind," he said, touching the gemstone as his words activating the teleportation spell within the mirror.

A golden face – more of a mask, actually, with thin eyes and a cruel smile – appeared within the mirror's depths, and a familiar voice answered.

"Where would you like to go, master?"

"I think the outskirts of Eastown might be nice," Seidon said, reaching into the pocket of his new jacket and withdrawing his second most prized possession. He pulled the mask onto his face and let out an exuberant sigh as the tension in his forehead started to bleed away. There was more to be done, of course, but this was as good of a start as he could hope for. "It's been a while since I've seen what the fiends over there are up to."

"As you wish."

A twisting, wicked sound filled the air, but Seidon was used to it and walked toward the mirror without hesitation. Silvery light surrounded him for a moment, and when it vanished he was alone in the deepest part of abandoned Eastown.

It was quiet for a few seconds, and then the familiar groans and cries of the malignant spirits that called the place their home reached Seidon's ears. He smiled, though the expression was hidden by his mask, and reached into the pocket of his pants. Once again, his fingers found the comforting steel of the tool he kept there, and Seidon drew the knife with a [Fanciful Flourish]. Sunlight glinted off the blade, and its wicked edge seemed to shine in the man's hand.

A smaller version of the mirror's face appeared behind him.

"How long would you like to work, master?"

"Half an hour – no, make that a full hour actually," Seidon said. "Just long enough to clear my head, eh?"

"Of course."

Humming a happy little tune, Seidon walked away from the mask and into the nearest building. He'd come here many times before, and was pleased that it had recovered so much since his last visit – there were already a half dozen shadowy figures scurrying toward him.

Readying his blade, Seidon waited, never missing a beat.

Exactly fifty-six minutes later, Seidon returned to the spot where he'd arrived with his knife in one hand and a cluster of tiny black seeds in the other. He was still humming, though the tune had changed to something a bit more relaxed.

Before his return portal appeared, there was one last thing he needed to do. After all, in the same way that a [Lumberjack] plants saplings after clearing a forest, he had to make sure that his stress relief would come back too.

Walking from building to building and kneeling down in front of the door of each of them, Seidon used his knife to make a series of small holes. Into each he dropped one of the seeds he'd so joyfully harvested, pressing all of his negative thoughts and irritations from the day into them as he did so. The twisted energies of Oar's Crest would exist with or without him – there were too many broken hearts and bad memories within the city for there to be any other option – but rather than being forced to confront random malignance his predecessors had found a great way of channeling it to ends that were, if not productive, useful.

For all of their faults, the fiends brought stability, and there was value in that beyond comprehension. As such, Seidon was not the first to harvest the little black seeds, nor would he be the last. Of all of his duties, keeping the fiends ubiquitous within the abandoned parts of the city was by far his most important.

When his task was done, he waited for the portal to reappear, changed back into his normal clothes, and went back to his desk to spend the rest of the day at work.

After all, those papers weren't going to sign themselves.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.