Mr. & Mrs Meropide

Chapter Twenty: The Currency of Trust

The next day, Wriothesley sat in his office, the soft hum of the fortress's subterranean systems a constant backdrop to his thoughts. After his recent interactions with Madeleine and his growing suspicions about Clorinde's true mission, he knew he couldn't leave anything to chance. The missing pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, but there was still one crucial detail he needed to confirm.

Rising from his desk, he made his way to the Records Room—a secure area deep within the fortress where all documentation of inmates and personnel was meticulously stored. The room was lined with shelves filled with neatly organized files, each one a record of the lives contained within the fortress's walls.

Wriothesley moved with purpose, his fingers trailing along the spines of the files until he reached the section he was looking for: recent transfers. He pulled out a thick folder and began leafing through the records, his eyes scanning each page with practiced efficiency. Most of the names were unremarkable—petty criminals, individuals caught up in minor offenses—but then, a name caught his eye: Marcellus Vire.

Wriothesley's gaze sharpened as he read through Vire's file. The man was not widely known outside certain circles, but within the fortress, he had already begun to make his presence felt. Vire had a reputation for being methodical, always thinking several steps ahead, and his influence, though subtle, was undeniable. He had been transferred to the Fortress of Meropide shortly before Clorinde's arrival. The timing was too precise to be a coincidence.

His mind flashed back to the moment he saw Clorinde, now going by "Claire," speaking with Vire in the mess hall. Their conversation had been brief, but the way they interacted had struck him as more than a simple exchange between a guard and an inmate. It was subtle, but the connection was there.

Wriothesley leaned back against the shelf, his suspicion now solidifying into certainty. Vire was Clorinde's target. Whatever her mission was, it revolved around him. And now that Wriothesley knew who Clorinde was watching, he realized just how delicate the situation had become. Vire wasn't someone to be underestimated, and if Clorinde was after him, the stakes were higher than he had imagined.

Meanwhile, in another part of the fortress, Clorinde moved through the dimly lit corridors, her senses alert as she made her rounds. She had barely slept the previous night, her mind too restless to allow for any real rest. The encounter with Maria had been a welcome distraction, but now, she was back to the reality of her mission.

As she turned a corner, a faint bang echoed down the hallway, drawing her attention. It came from an area of the fortress that had been closed off due to ongoing repairs to the security system. The camera in that section had been malfunctioning since yesterday, leaving the area vulnerable and unsupervised. Clorinde's instincts flared; something wasn't right.

Quickening her pace, she moved toward the source of the sound. As she neared the closed-off section, low voices reached her ears, a mixture of anger and menace. Clorinde slowed her approach, keeping to the shadows as she peered around the corner.

In the dim light of the faulty corridor, she spotted three large inmates surrounding someone pressed against the wall. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the man they had cornered—Marcellus Vire. His usually composed demeanor was marred by a few bruises, evidence that he had already taken a few hits. The three men loomed over him, their postures aggressive, clearly intent on doing more harm.

Without hesitation, Clorinde stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmur like a blade. "Step away from him."

The inmates turned as one, their eyes narrowing at the sight of her. The largest of the group, a man with a twisted scar running down his cheek, sneered. "This isn't your business, guard. Walk away."