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[Letter received in a plain envelope addressed to M. Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine, received by courier from the Fortress of Meropide at mid-morning]
Dear Monsieur Neuvillette,
It's a pleasure to make your aqquaintance. My name is Wriothesley. through a series of events, I've recently taken up the position of Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide and I thought I should introduce myself before too much time passed.
You're probably wondering what happened to the previous Administrator. He fled somewhere topside, I think. We searched the Fortress top to bottom for him. Unfortunately, he took some of his account books with him, and I'm having an awful time trying to figure out where our finances are at. Would you be so kind as to pass on the attached letter to whatever bank is holding Meropide's accounts?
I would also like to trouble you for a meeting sometime soon, maybe in the next week? Not to presume, but there's a lot of people down here who need food, clothing, and probably new bedsheets, and I don't want to risk an interruption in cashflow just because the last guy left with the financial keys, so sooner is better than later. or maybe I should meet somebody else? I need to negociate prices for Guardemeks and discuss goods shipments. And make it easier for people to leave. there's a lot of people whose sentences are over who are stuck here because they couldn't pay for passage back to fontaine.
This letter got a lot longer than I meant it to. PLease let me know about the meeting, or who I should ask if not you. I guess I've asked you for a couple of errands in the end, but you're the only person in Fontaine that I know I can trust to be discreet about the disarray we're in down here.
Thanks in advance for your trouble.
Regards,
Wriothesley
Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide
----
[a note attached to a dossier left on Officer Sedene's desk]
Sedene--
Kindly confirm that this is the only person named 'Wriothesley' in Meropide.
Many thanks.
----
[note on the same dossier, on Neuvillette's desk in the afternoon]
Confirmed!
----
[Letter delivered by courier in the evening in an envelope sealed with the Palais Mermonia coat of arms. Addressed to M. Wriothesley, Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide]
Dear Monsieur Wriothesley,
It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your notification in the change in management is greatly appreciated by myself and my staff.
Be assured that this is far from the first chaotic transfer of administrative duties in the Fortress of Meropide. As such, we have protocols in place to help smooth the transition process.
You will, I hope, soon receive (or have already received) a letter from the Fontaine Central Bank arranging a meeting with your esteemed self to pass on account details. They will discuss the particulars of recent transactions and help you bring the Fortress' books back into order. I have been assured that you need not worry that Meropide's finances are in dire straits, so please put your mind at ease in that regard.
I will be pleased to meet with you at -- on --, five days from this writing, at my office in the Palais Mermonia. Bring this letter with you as passage and ask for Sedene. She will escort you to my office.
In addition to the matters you mentioned, please be prepared to discuss protocols surrounding prisoner transfers. While I understand some may prefer to stay in the Fortress after serving their sentence, I am gravely alarmed to hear that there are Fontainian citizens held past their sentence against their will. We must arrange for their, and all future ex-convicts', safe and documented transferral back to Fontaine at their pleasure.
Sincerely,
Neuvillette
Chief Justice and Iudex of Fontaine
----
[Letter received by courier, sealed poorly with the coat of arms of the Fortress of Meropide. Addressed to M. Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine]
Dear Monsieur Neuvillette,
Thank you for your prompt attention and aid. I should have guessed you would be used to this kind of thing considering how Meropide is.
I will see you on -- at -- as requested.
Regards,
Wriothesley
P.S. I received the letter from the Bank of Fontaine.
P.P.S. I just realized I don't have any clothes that are appropriate for meeting with you. Apologies in advance.
---
[Note delivered by courier in a small envelope sealed with the Palais Mermonia coat of arms. Addressed to M. Wriothesley, Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide]
Dear M.Wriothesley,
Do not trouble yourself with regard to your clothes.
I will have my staff prepare recommendations for where to acquire a wardrobe befitting your station.
I look forward to meeting you in person.
Sincerely,
Neuvillette
—-
After some consideration, Neuvilette decided to step out of his office to greet the newest Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide for the first time. If Wriothesley was destined to show up in a prisoner’s uniform, as his letter implied, it would be wise to establish his position of authority in front of the Palais staff.
Neuvillette remembered Wriothesley’s trial, of course. His memory was excellent in any case, but that sobering trial had launched a years-long investigation and uprooting of a child trafficking network that Wriothesley’s foster parents had been but a small part of. Neuvillette still struggled to name the emotion he felt when he sentenced Wriothesley to the Fortress. It was not shame or guilt, but something akin to it: a deep mourning that so many children had paid the price of the justice system’s inadequacy, to the point that another child had taken justice into his own hands. That this child now would be the first arrested and sentenced in a long series of arrests and sentences, when he was first and foremost a victim. It had, indeed, left Neuvillette quite without words, and for so long that it was remarked on in the trial record.
The records did not reflect the heaviness and length of the rain that followed that trial, of course, but Neuvillette recalled having to actively rein his emotions in.
That child was now a young man—recently turned 24, according to his dossier—and Neuvillette was curious to see him again. Wriothesley’s sentence should have concluded two weeks ago; instead, he had ascended to the highest position the Fortress of Meropide had on offer. By the account of the Palais’ sources in Meropide, Wriothesley’s ascendency was a matter of popular demand in the face of the rampant corruption and injustice of the previous Administrator. Neuvillette was determined to not ask too many questions: the Fortress was only nominally a part of Fontaine, and he had no official authority there. However, it had been a long, long time since he had last heard such favorable accounts of a Fortress Administrator, and Neuvillette could not help harboring some hope that Wriothesley would prove the rare person whose heart harbored a lifelong hunger for equity.
A quarter of an hour before their meeting was scheduled, Sedene knocked and poked her head into Neuvillette’s office. “Administrator Wriothesley is here,” she chirped. “Would you like him to wait?”
Neuvillette smiled briefly to himself, pleased by Wriothesley’s attention to time. He set aside his work. “Yes, for a minute or two. I will be out shortly to greet him.”
Sedene nodded and let herself back out. Neuvillette stood, checked his cravat and hair, smoothed his robes, and stepped out not long after. Maintaining an impeccable appearance was important at all times, but especially on first–or technically second–impressions.
Administrator Wriothesley was sitting on the bench for visitors. Despite his letter, it appeared he had found himself something to wear other than his prison clothes: he wore an ill-fitting Meropide Garde uniform that bagged at his waist and cinched too tight at his shoulders. When the door opened, he jumped to his feet with startled energy. “Monsieur Neuvillette!” He visibly reined himself in, quickly running a hand through dark, graying hair, squaring his shoulders, and breaking into a charming smile that crinkled a vivid scar under his right eye. “I - thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I’m told you’re usually booked out for months.” He lifted a hand as if offering to shake, then hesitated, looking unsure.
Neuvillette smiled back. “Monsieur Wriothesley,” he greeted, offering his own hand to shake. “We understand your urgency and are happy to meet it with our own.”
Wriothesley let out a small, relieved breath and took Neuvillette’s hand in a firm grip. Neuvillette gauged the strength of his hand and matched it carefully. He looked up to Wriothesley’s face and found himself meeting an intense, measuring gaze. Wriothesley was still smiling, but it no longer reached his ice blue eyes. Neuvillette was being weighed for … something, though Neuvillette couldn’t know what without better knowing Wriothesley himself. Neuvillette met that gaze steadily, unperturbed, and projected confidence and calm.
The handshake did not go on for an unusual amount of time, but Neuvillette was pleased that Wriothesley understood the power and purpose of such gestures. They broke eye contact simultaneously as Wriothesley looked down and Neuvillette turned back to his office door. “Please do come in. Since you’re early, we may be able to get even more done than planned.” He opened the door and gestured for Wriothesley to step in ahead of him.
Wriothesley hesitated, glancing at the open doorway and Neuvillette in turn, then walked past Neuvillette and into the office with confidence. He moved well despite what had to be unfamiliar, uncomfortable clothing, with straight shoulders and loosely curled fists. He was a few inches shorter than Neuvillette, but already wider across his chest and back. A fighter, for certain. Though he did not project a dangerous aura, Neuvillette sensed that Wriothesley was ready to fight: that he would not hesitate to turn to violence the moment he believed he needed to.
Neuvillette closed the door behind him without looking at it; as a result, he saw Wriothesley flinch at the click of the knob, the way his head twitched to the side as if stopping himself from looking over his shoulder. It was minute and well controlled, but Neuvillette had been watching humans for hundreds of years and it did not escape him. He filed the reaction away as he walked back to his desk. “Please sit,” he said as he came around his desk, gesturing at the guest chairs.
Wriothesley was unbuttoning his shoulder bag. “Uh - they’re a little far from the desk. Is it okay to …” he made a shoving motion.
“Of course.” Neuvillette tucked his robes to the back of his knees and took his own seat while Wriothesley arranged one of the guest chairs to his satisfaction on the other side of the desk and sat down.
“I see you improvised an outfit for today,” Neuvillette said by way of small talk.
Wriothesley had started pulling bulging accounting books and folders out of his bag and organizing them on the corner of Neuvillette’s desk. He glanced up at the not-quite-a-question, then gave a little laugh. “Ah, yeah. All I had was my prison uniform, but your letter or no, I figured I’d better not show up looking like an escaped convict. I borrowed this for now.”
“I agree that was for the best.” Neuvillette pulled a sheet from the bottom of the stack he had prepared for Wriothesley’s arrival. “Here is a list of tailors and clothing stores recommended by the Guestionairres. I hope you will find something to your liking from this selection.”
Wriothesley’s eyebrows went up. He reached out, taking the sheet and scanning it quickly. “You were serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“Of course,” Neuvillette said. “From your letter it was evident you are aware clothing makes an important impression. I agree. You would be well served to have something appropriate to dress in, even if only when you venture to Fontaine.”
Wriothesley let out a quiet breath. “I kind of forgot I can just leave whenever I want to,” he admitted. Then he cleared his throat, seeming to remember himself, and started to carefully fold the paper up. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to take a look.”
Neuvillette nodded, then turned to his own stack of papers. “Well, we have quite a lot to cover. Let us start with the matter of safe transportation for ex-convicts who wish to return to Fontaine.”
“Sounds good. I have some questions about logistics. How many Meropide refugees do you think you can handle at once? I’ve got at least one hundred, probably closer to one hundred and fifty …”
—
Wriothesley had a head for numbers. He spoke with confidence about the amount of incidentals he needed - soap, towels, bedsheets, laundry detergent, food ingredients and spices, prison uniforms in all sizes, paper, and more. He was less confident about what he needed for building Gardemeks. “The previous Administrator took off with the factory books,” he explained. “I’ve been piecing that information together with the help of supervisors, but I wasn’t able to get it all together before our meeting. I’ll send you a full report when I have better numbers, but these are the ballpark.”
Neuvillette reviewed the proffered papers. “I can provide shipment inventories on our end to act as a replacement.” he looked up. “This is impressive work for a mere week’s preparation.”
Wriothesley met his gaze with a startled expression, his ears turning a dark pink color. “Oh, uh … two weeks, actually. The previous Administrator disappeared the day my sentence ended. What else could I do? There wasn’t anybody to sign my exit papers.”
Neuvillette frowned. “That surely isn’t the reason you took the Administrator seat.”
Wriothesley’s face turned the same color as his ears, but he smiled. “Sorry … that was supposed to be a joke.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, I kind of … chased him off? I’m sure you’ve heard something about it from the gardes that live topside. He overstepped his authority in an obvious way, and when I called him out on it, he decided to flee instead of face the consequences.” Wriothesley rubbed the back of his neck. “If somebody didn’t take the Administrator seat right away, the Fortress would have descended into total chaos. It was already just short of that, to be honest. I felt like I’d better take responsibility for what I’d done, so …” he lifted his hands in a shrugging gesture and dropped them to his knees with a slap. “Here I am.”
The power vacuum wouldn’t have lasted long if Wriothesly hadn’t filled it, in Neuvillette’s experience, but Wriothesley was likely correct that the Fortress of Meropide would have undergone a period of total chaos and lawlessness while the inmates squabbled over who would take charge. For Wriothesley to have successfully taken that seat without such a period was … remarkable. And spoke to his popularity - or the fear he inspired - at least in the moment of ascendency. “Speaking of the previous Administrator,” Neuvilette said, “I am sure, for a variety of reasons, that one way he maintained power was by bribing gardes. I would like to know what you intend to do with gardes who were on his take.”
Wriothesley frowned. “That’s– wait. Is it your business? They’re Fontainian citizens, but if they’re taking bribes in Meropide, isn’t that my jurisdiction?”
“If you intend to fire them, I expect there will be several dozens of Fontainians who are suddenly out of work. I want to ensure their families do not suffer, or have any reason to turn popular opinion against the Fortress. And we will need to negotiate a swift process for replacing your staff.”
“Oh. That’s fair.” Wriothesley looked into the distance thoughtfully. “I’m not sure yet, to be honest. It depends on the person. There’s a handful I know I’m kicking out the door, though. Here, let me make you a list.” He flipped over a sheet of scratch paper covered with equations and started to write.
Neuvillette hummed. “Why would it depend on the person?”
Wriothesley didn’t look up. “People take bribes for lots of reasons. There’s some people I know were just taking bribes to make ends meet because they don’t get paid enough - they’d straight up tell you they were bribed to do this or that thing. Right – I want to raise the garde salary. That’s in the numbers somewhere, I thought of it late.” He stopped writing to rifle through his papers before checking himself. “List first. Anyway—I have some questions to ask before I go firing everybody.” He resumed writing names in a blocky, neat hand, taking his time with each letter.
Evidence suggested that Wriothesley’s quick handwriting was all but unreadable, so Neuvilette waited patiently for him to finish, contemplating the new Administrator’s notion of fair treatment. If Wriothesley’s actions were true to his word, it boded a very different sort of management than the Fortress had seen in decades. Perhaps a century. If the names on Wriothesley’s list aligned roughly with whom Neuvillette expected, it would be another good sign in a series of good signs.
Of course, there had been a handful of Administrators who had good intentions, but couldn’t keep true to them. They had been unable to withstand the corruption that power tempted them into, or they had been too weak to hold down their position and were swiftly overthrown. Neuvillette watched Wriothesley write and wondered if such a fate would befall this man as well.
“I think that’s all of them.” Wriothesley lifted his head, proferring the sheet, but his brows pinched when he looked at Neuvillette. “Are you—uh.” Neuvillette watched him flounder for a moment, his gaze darting around the room before returning to Neuvillette’s face. “Is something wrong?”
“A passing thought,” Neuvillette said, taking the paper. He suppressed a smile: the top several names were Gardes whose frivolous purchases well outstripped their earnings. He put the paper down and met Wriothesley’s eyes. “I confess I am deeply pleased by your professed intentions. It is clear you have given the logistics of properly caring for a captive population plenty of thought. Your consideration for their well-being and desire to respect the needs of those who wish to leave is admirable, and your proposed solutions to the ongoing smuggling problem are creative and practical.”
As he spoke, the crinkle in Wriothesley’s brow smoothed and his face once again began to flush. He looked away, fidgeting and jogging a leg. “Thank you,” he said to his lap, picking imaginary fluff off the front of his borrowed Garde uniform. He took a deep breath and looked up again. “But — there’s a ‘but’ coming, right? There has to be.”
“There is,” Neuvilette admitted. “Monsieur Wriothesley, I have seen many Administrators come and go. Administrators of your apparent character are rare and all too often, their rule is fleeting. Are you certain you are prepared for the challenges to your authority that you are likely to face?” He held up a hand when Wriothesley opened his mouth to answer. “Before you answer, please bear in mind that I have no right to hear your response. You do not answer to me, and how you maintain power is your business. But I would be remiss to not voice my concern.”
Wriothesley closed his mouth. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. They were both silent for a long moment, and Neuvilette contemplated the scarred knuckles and telltale signs of oft-broken fingers.
When Wriothesley spoke, it was slowly and thoughtfully. “I’m grateful for your consideration. Truly. And I realize I don’t owe you an answer, but I also want to … hm. Give you a reason to believe that the investments I’m asking you to make will be worthwhile.” He took a deep breath, then looked up with a wry smile. “When I got to the underw–the Fortress ten years ago, it was kind of a mess. I guess you know that. If the long history’s anything like the way I’ve known it, it’s been might-makes-right the whole time. And I know that’s not gonna change overnight. Archons, I don’t even know if I can change that in my lifetime. So, uh …” He scratched his chin, then reclasped his hands. “I know I’m talking a good game, and I’m serious about taking care of the needs of everybody there. Time spent in the Fortress should be a chance to do better, not a reason to do worse, you know? But I also know that’s going to depend on me being able to outsmart and beat down anybody who doesn’t like it.”
Wriothesley finished this speech with a sigh that weighed the atmosphere of the room - the sigh of a man twice his age, a sigh that carried the stress that would lead a 24-year-old man’s hair to start going gray. Neuvillette said nothing. He knew his face was impassive, but his heart gave a pang of sympathy.
For a moment, the room was perfectly silent. Then Wriothesley breathed back in through his teeth, straightening again. “I guess what I’m saying is: I’m young, I’m fit, I’ve got a lot of allies, and I’m not too shabby at catching conspiracies early. And I’m the reigning champion of the no-holds-barred pit fighting ring down there. Not exactly proof I can beat anyone that comes at me, but … I like my chances.”
No holds barred pit fighting ring!? That was concerning, but truthfully none of Neuvilette’s business. He waited a moment to be sure Wriothesley was done speaking, then said, “Thank you. Your unique blend of practicality and idealism is … hopeful.” He smiled slightly. “I will put your proposals before my staff for logistical evaluation and streamlining. There will be some accountability demands on your end. Paperwork requirements are extensive. I will personally review them periodically for anything out of place or unexpected.”
Wriothesley seemed to read between the lines. “In other words: ‘Don’t let power corrupt you, I’ll notice,’” he said, and grinned suddenly. “Message received, loud and clear.”
Neuvillette sighed. “I reiterate: I do not have any authority over you, nor any control over how you choose to handle Meropide’s affairs.”
“No, but potentially losing the Palais’ business is a good motivator to keep on the straight and narrow. Well, another good motivator. I’ve got plenty of others, too.”
Seeing that Wriothesley was not in fact elevating Neuvillette’s role, he relented. “Understood.” Neuvillette nodded.
Wriothesley’s smile grew softer, but didn’t disappear entirely as he turned back to his paperwork. He rubbed at his eyes. “Where were we again? Oh, right, garde salaries. I guess that’s something for me to handle on my own, huh? Wait, no, I brought it up for a reason … right! What’s the going rate in Mora for that kind of work? I want to make sure their salary is competitive.”
Something in Wriothesley’s energy had changed, and it brought Neuvillette back to himself. He realized he had lost track of time in a way he rarely did—but then, Neuvillette rarely had the opportunity to engage in the sort of comprehensive problem-solving that portented real, material change in citizens’ circumstances. It was gratifying work. Nonetheless, he took advantage of Wriothesley’s distraction with his papers to check the time and saw with real regret that they had only a few minutes left. “I will have that information sent to you,” he said. “And we should arrange to meet again in the near future. There is plenty more to discuss, but our time has run out for today.”
“Really? Already?” Wriothesley twisted in his seat to look at the clock. “Oof. I really underestimated how long this would take. Who should I talk to for your schedule?”
Neuvillette thought the timing was for the best. He now noticed circles of bruise-colored skin under Wriothesley’s eyes and saw how his shoulders folded forward more than they had at the start of their meeting. “I will arrange it. Will next week be too soon?”
“Not soon enough, more like,” Wriothesley said with a little laugh, then looked mortified, his eyes going momentarily wide. He ran a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. “I mean—that was a joke. A week is great. I’ll probably need that time to work out the factory numbers, but it will go a lot faster with your inventory records.” He started stuffing paperwork back into their overflowing folders and returning them to his shoulder bag.
Neuvillette considered Wriothesley for a moment, then followed his instinct to offer some wisdom. “Please be sure to sleep, Monsieur Wriothesley,” he said as gently as he could.
Wriothesley’s shoulders bunched up where he was bent over his bag. Neuvillette sensed he had given offense, but did not rush to correct his error, curious to see how Wriothesley would handle himself.
After a tense moment, Wriothesley let out an explosive sigh. He sat back up and pushed his hair away from his face. “I appreciate the advice, Chief Justice,” he said, not sounding like he appreciated it at all, but gamely trying to be diplomatic.
Wriothesley’s effort to rein in his temper, even while clearly exhausted, satisfied the judge in Neuvillette. “I see I have overstepped. I apologize, Monsieur,” he said, relenting. “I trust you are looking after your health as best you can in difficult times.”
Wriothesley’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s pretty much what I was trying to say, but couldn’t find the words.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and head, then stood up. “Should I see myself out?”
Neuvillette was often the person who had to stand to indicate the end of a meeting, so it was different but not unpleasant to have Wriothesley know when to take his leave. He stood as well and leaned forward, offering his hand for a farewell shake. “It was truly a pleasure to meet with you today. Kindly let Officer Sedene know you are leaving on your way out.”
Wriothesley took Neuvillette’s hand in a grip as firm as before. “Will do. And thanks. I feel a lot less like I’m floundering around in the dark.” His smile was brief, but it touched his eyes. “See you in a week or so?”
Neuvillette nodded. “You will hear from me or my office with details by tomorrow,” he promised. And then Wriothesley was crossing the office. He glanced back only once, as he was closing the door behind him, and left Neuvillette with a sharp last impression of relief mingled with awe.
Neuvillette remained still, looking down at his desk. He tried to categorize his own feelings: Disappointment that their interesting, engaging meeting was over. Hope that Wriothesley could effect real change in Meropide. Apprehension that this hope was unfounded and Wriothesley would prove unworthy of the challenge. He is better equipped than most, Neuvillette admitted to himself. And I enjoyed his company. He could not help but look forward to another round of logistical problem-solving with a clever person who took advice well, all considered.
The clock chimed the hour, and Neuvillette internally shook himself free of his thoughts. It was time to turn his mind to the next matter. “We shall see,” Neuvillette murmured to himself, and gathered his papers in preparation for his next meeting.