Nevermore

People Are Incompetent

“Are you angry, sir?”

Vincent Hodge, head of security at Alisvern, gave the man a piercing glare. Vincent and his second in command, Roberts, were situated in Vincent's lavish office, courtesy of the priests. Vincent sat behind the cherry wood desk, his arms folded and the look on his face less than pleasant. Roberts sat in front of him, fidgeting with his clothes and looking everywhere but at Vincent.

After being dragged away from his vacation with his wife to be informed of the recent situation, Vincent could not say he was pleased. It had been twenty minutes since he found out and his eye had yet to stop twitching.

“Well let’s see,” he started, “fifty-five priests in one temple, with numerous guardsmen and an unlimited source of magic, somehow manage to lose the single most powerful item of the age.” He paused. “What do you think?”

Roberts seemed to actually consider it. “You seem to be taking it rather well, si-”

“Roberts if you don’t get out of my sight in the next ten seconds, I will chain you next to Prometheus and gut you myself!” Vincent roared. That was enough for Roberts. The mousy looking man made a dash for the door, eager to escape his boss's fury. Vincent rubbed his temple in an attempt to calm his now irritated eye. Honestly, some people were so...

Vincent Hodge was, by nature, a patient man. But even he had a limit to how much utter stupidity he could listen to. Standing up, he walked over to his personal cabinet and pulled out his favorite wine. I’m going to need it, he thought. Taking a sip, he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, wondering if he should just kill himself now.

“Drinking on the job?” Vincent jumped, spilling some of the wine onto the expensive carpet. Great, he thought sourly, the maids will have a fit when they see it. Looking up, Vincent caught sight of what he had been dreading sense he returned to the temple. Ofelia Beecroft sat in the chair he had previously occupied, her legs crossed with the illusion of prim and proper on her face. On the outside she appeared calm, but as she stared at Vincent, something unsavory lurked beneath.

Vincent tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Ofelia, darling, I didn’t know you would be coming today. How was Spain?” He tried to keep his tone light. It was hard with those penetrating blue eyes staring him down.

“Oh it was wonderful. You should visit some time.” If you’re not dead. Vincent tried not to think about the unsaid words.

“So,” she continued, “I was resting in my hotel room, when I heard something...rather peculiar.”

Vincent shuddered. “Would you happen to know what it is?” Her voice was as sickly sweet as she twirled her hair, appearing as if she were a regular school girl.

“Couldn’t hazard a guess,” he whispered.

“Why, it was a rumor about something being stolen from the Alisvern. A particular, how shall I put? Powerful item,” her voice was getting higher. “Do you still not know, Vincent?”

The air sizzled as waves of magic poured out of her. Plaques and awards from past accomplishments were ripped from place on his walls and flung around as if they were mere paper. He ducked as a trophy that said, "Greatest Dad," aimed for his head. When Ofelia Beecroft got angry, she got angry.

He winced at the display of power. There was no doubt of who was in control of the situation. “Er...” was all he could say. “It was the Aeternum Bellum, Vincent,” her voice was flat. The charade was over. It seemed that Ofelia had grown tired of it.

Vincent, though, still wished it was going on. “I can explain-”

She cut him off. “There is nothing to explain, Vincent. I put you in charge of watching the most powerful object in the world and you lost it. Seems pretty simple to me.”