The Raging Storm

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Plan In Motion

Councilor Jormac Sundry paced the Councilor's Quarters in Fort Givo with enough determination to burn his tracks into the floor. Large onyx banners with the Viberium Council sigil, a sideways diamond with an eye in the center, hung on the sandstone walls every few paces. Important to remind the Crimson Guards who ran this show. The Viberium Council led the kingdom, not the king. Good to remind them when possible.

The stale air made his throat dry. He paused his pacing to take a drink of water. To his right, a large rectangular window displayed a dreary night with the Seventh Division sprawling below. The city was a shade of gloom under the overcast weather that threatened a downpour of rain at any minute. Hundreds of miles in the distance over the Forever Ocean, a lightning strike brightened the horizon.

The Councilor set his glass back down on his desk. The dark brown oak desk had papers piled high. Jormac hadn't realized how much paperwork it took to run a prison like Fort Givo. All those Foundlings to be tested. He smiled at the thought.

With some strategic encouragement, some of the Foundlings would Snap and they would gain more power as an entity. The processing of the Foundlings into their ranks was a lengthy one though. Even if some Foundlings did Snap, then began the extensive process of brainwashing to keep them in the Viberium Council's control. He pressed his index finger and thumb into the space next to his eyes. An old mannerism from his father. Oh, how tired he was lately.

The processing of the Foundlings was taking much longer than Councilor Veiter had anticipated. But that was lower on his list of concerns at the moment. Where were those lazy Crimson Guards? They kept him waiting far too long for the information he asked for. The inefficiency of the Crimson Guards was becoming laughable lately. Laughable would be a good thing if he wasn't on the same side as those imbeciles. Commander Gentry wasn't cutting it anymore but Councilor Veiter said that was something to worry about after the Foundling problem was solved.

Patience. He ran his thumb over his father's gold ornament ring on his right index finger. Everything would work out, it always did for him. His father told him since he was young that he was born with the luck of the world, and Jormac had to agree with his old man. Things always worked out for him.

Some people are born with all the luck. I'm lucky I'm one of them.

The dark cedar door opened and in strode Captain Zelidar. The captain had a weathered face, lined from years of stress, that betrayed nothing of what he thought—an attribute that Jormac wished he was better at. His once jet-black hair was greying around the temples. A golden sun pinned his cloak to his crimson armor; the mark of station Jormac had given him once he'd proven trustworthy to the Viberium Council years ago. Zelidar's expression stayed business firm while he put his right fist to his chest in salute.

Jormac paused his pacing and sat down on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed. "Well?"

The captain said, "We had one of the Night Watchers trail Cornelia and Gavore just like you asked. Cornelia went to the Fourth Division and then we lost track of her. Gavore ended up recruiting the two Night Watchers sent after him to do another job for him. That man is very sly with his tongue, sir."

Jormac shook his head with disgust. "Send me the names of the Night Watchers that have now aligned with Gavore. That man hires my help more often than not lately and it's starting to irritate me."

"By your command, Councilor."

Jormac stood and absent-mindedly played with his father's ring. "What about Solomon? Have you heard more information about what the Council plans to do with him? I feel very out of the loop over here in Fort Givo. Councilor Veitar is playing with fire with that one. Better to let him rot."