Tyrian slowly raised his head, allowing his eye to focus intently on the secretary standing before him. His face bore a look that clearly communicated: “Do you think you can play games with me?”
The most formidable and legendary pirate from the frigid waters of the Cold Sea had only ever exhibited such a deeply surprised look once before – and that was in the presence of his father.
He did not lay a hand on the several documents that the man had slid over to him. Instead, after taking a moment to collect himself, he shifted his gaze to meet that of General Lister, who was seated across from him.
The deep shock evident in the general’s eyes seemed to reflect Tyrian’s own sentiments.
“This seems to be truly ‘unexpected information’,” Tyrian whispered, maintaining an even tone, “It seems even the ‘General’ before me was kept in the dark about this plan.”
“Because this isn’t some pre-established ‘plan’,” the secretary said, adjusting his gleaming gold-framed glasses. He maintained a serious demeanor as he continued, “Our current circumstances in Frost are complicated, and we don’t have the luxury to deeply debate every possible action before we set it into motion. That’s why I’ve brought this ‘proposal’ directly here – to discuss its viability with General Lister as a witness.”
“Viability? Do you genuinely believe this plan holds water?” Tyrian almost burst into laughter, looking at the secretary as though he had completely lost his mind. “I lead the Mist Fleet, I’m the most notorious pirate in the Cold Sea. The very source of countless horror tales told in Frost for the last five decades. And now, you propose that I become the ruler of this city? Just because we fought alongside one another doesn’t mean you fully understand the nature of our alliance.”
“Yes, we did fight side by side,” the secretary confirmed, “Together, we fended off a threat that could have spelled doom for the city-state. By now, many are aware that the Mist Fleet stepped in at the eleventh hour, defending the city in collaboration with the navy. By tomorrow, the entirety of Frost will know this, and the city’s authorities will communicate to the citizens that the Mist Fleet’s departure fifty years ago was just a temporary divergence. They’ll say the ‘Iron Admiral’, who left in anger, never truly renounced his commitment to safeguarding the city-state.”
He paused briefly, ensuring Tyrian wasn’t going to cut him off, then continued, “Every situation can be reinterpreted, every shift can be justified. You might believe such a drastic change won’t sit well with Frost’s inhabitants, but the reality is… a majority of the common folks can easily alter their ‘original perspectives’ when faced with persistent and singularly directed propaganda. The promise of a stable life and marked improvements in order will soon overshadow any past grievances. The way people perceive things can be ‘molded’. It’s just a matter of time.”
Tyrian listened carefully, his demeanor unchanging, eyes fixed on the secretary: “You seem to have quite the knack for this.”
“Every city-state, including Frost during the Queen’s reign, practices this,” replied the secretary expressionlessly. “Creating a ‘narrative’ that resonates with the current societal mood can ease the mental stress of the majority. This isn’t an evil act. True wickedness lies in voicing noble promises but failing to preserve social stability or ensure the populace’s well-being.”
The secretary, trying to catch Captain Tyrian’s attention, started, “Captain Tyrian, you must understand something. The primary aim of City Hall isn’t to mete out justice but to ensure the maximum number of our people make it through these trying times.”
Tyrian sighed deeply. “She used to echo those exact sentiments too,” he muttered.
The secretary nodded. “Yes, her words still resonate as they’re engraved upon the very doors of our domed office. Remember, it was the Frost Queen we deposed, not the fundamental truths and principles she stood by.”
A heavy silence settled as Tyrian paused, seemingly absorbed in introspection. After what felt like a long pause, he finally found his voice, “Why do you feel that I am the right fit for this leadership role?”
“Well, the initial idea came from Miss Agatha. She believed that you and your formidable Mist Fleet could be instrumental in restoring stability to the city-state. However, the detailed decision was derived from a crucial emergency session held at City Hall,” the secretary elaborated, adjusting his posture. “I’ll be frank; I have my reservations about whether you’re truly the best choice for this. My colleagues, though, remind me that before earning the title of ‘pirate’, you served as one of Frost’s most esteemed admirals. Historically, nearly one in three of our city’s rulers or governors has had a military background.”
Tyrian frowned, shaking his head, “You’re condensing a complex issue into a simplistic narrative. It’s not solely about finding the ideal candidate. We’re grappling with a myriad of ‘historical complexities’. While you’ve pointed out that it’s possible to steer public opinion, such endeavors demand time. Time that Frost is running short of. To reestablish order swiftly, perhaps you should…”
Before Tyrian could finish, the secretary raised his hand, cutting him off, “Captain Tyrian, before you dismiss the idea, I’d advise you to go through the documents I’ve presented. They might offer you some insights into the ‘practicability’ of this entire situation.”
Surprised by the secretary’s assertion, Tyrian finally shifted his gaze to the plain-looking files the man had laid out earlier.
The materials were simple and straightforward, stripped of any ornate emblems or elaborate decorations. Just modestly crafted, factual “proposals”.
As Tyrian skimmed through, a mix of shock and realization transformed his features.
Closing the folder with a definitive snap, he locked eyes with the secretary.
The secretary, maintaining an aura of serenity, slightly nodded before Tyrian could voice his thoughts.
“To put it concisely,” he began, “First, the catastrophic disaster that befell Frost was orchestrated by the Annihilators. But, the real cause is rooted in the hazardous mining operations the old City Hall permitted beneath our city for decades. The blatant disregard for safety in those shadowy depths, coupled with their decision to turn a blind eye to, or even deliberately hide, alarming signs, escalated the crisis.”
“Second, numerous past governors were fully aware of these mining malpractices, but due to their personal interests, chose to veil the truth.”
“Third, the primary reason your Mist Fleet severed ties with Frost half a century ago relates to disagreements about these illicit mining practices and the consequent impending catastrophe.”
“And lastly, subsequent governors systematically tarnished the reputation of the Mist Fleet. They veiled the genuine discord between the Fleet and the city, directing the populace’s animosity towards you, Admiral Tyrian, diverting their focus from the real issue – the mines.”
“Furthermore,” the secretary added, extending his fifth point, “Governor Winston wasn’t just under mild speculation. There were glaring signs pointing towards his alliance with the followers of Annihilation. Right before the disaster took the city by surprise, he was alerted but chose inaction over preparation. His decision wasn’t simply negligent; it was outright treacherous. He abandoned the city he was sworn to protect and is now counted among its greatest adversaries. It’s believed he has integrated with the followers of Annihilation and Frost will forever seek retribution for his betrayal.”
“Moreover,” he pressed on to his sixth point, “The newly instated governor will not only oversee the city’s restoration. Immediate probes into the mining operations will be initiated, and for those accountable who remain, justice will be swift and inescapable.”
Throughout the secretary’s revelation, Tyrian remained unmoved. His stillness, combined with his piercing gaze, made the room’s atmosphere dense, almost choking.
Yet, undeterred by the intensity in the room, the secretary reached into his briefcase, producing another sizable stack of documents.
“This,” he began, emphasizing each word, “Is an exhaustive catalog. The beginning segments carry concrete proof, detailing unauthorized mining activities, blatant disregard for safety signs, and systemic efforts to tarnish the Mist Fleet’s reputation. As of now, we have a summarized version, but rest assured, in three days, every piece of evidence will be collated.”
He paused momentarily, adjusting the documents in front of him. “The latter part focuses on a directory of individuals who are liable to be apprehended and subjected to trial. Each person, aside from their primary offenses, will also be indicted for ‘associating with the followers of Annihilation’. Think of them as City Hall’s ‘insurance’ against unforeseen disruptions.”
“To crown it all,” he said, revealing the last set of documents, “Here, we have letters and personal journals that cement Governor Winston’s allegiance with the followers of Annihilation. Some of them even bear his unmistakable signature.”
Without touching the proffered evidence, Tyrian’s expression grew colder, if possible. The room’s temperature seemed to dip further, the mist thickening and every exhaled breath materializing into misty clouds.
The question he posed next was measured, “Who is the mastermind behind these documents?”
The secretary, showing no hint of anxiety, replied, “Previous governors have had a hand in their making. Each administration curates such a collection, keeping in mind possible future scenarios. They aren’t tailored exclusively for you but for any potential successors or emerging threats. The last set, surprisingly, is Governor Winston’s creation. Interestingly, he, too, saw potential in collaborating with the Mist Fleet, aligning with Miss Agatha’s earlier proposition.”
The layer of frost on the table grew thicker as Tyrian slowly placed his hand atop the documents. Looking directly into the secretary’s unwavering eyes, he murmured, “So these papers ascertain Winston’s culpability.”
Nodding gently, the secretary responded, “In Frost, we’ve always believed in the natural order of things: the past yielding to the present. Admiral Tyrian, though you may not be originally from Frost, this principle should resonate with you. If framing Governor Winston and the previous administrations aids in the rapid stabilization of the city, I’m convinced they, along with all their predecessors, would find it a necessary sacrifice.”
