Terror in the Deep: a Tale of PulchraGea

Aint No Party Like a Submarine Party

After dropping our luggage off in the room, Doug and I met with the Coral Veranda's Head of Security, Tas Ingall. Apparently he'd already been in contact with the Security Council.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "There's been no suspicious activity to report, and you specifically forbid us from increasing security."
"Because we're trying to draw them out, not let them know we're onto them," I reminded him.
I leaned back on the two back legs and propped my feet up on the man's desk.
"We're doing absolutely everything in our power, sir," Ingall assured me. I sighed and leaned my head back, nearly losing my balance when I tried to rub my eyes with my palms.
"I know, Tas," I said. "It's not your fault. These poop-chutes are just too careful."
Doug fidgeted restlessly. He knew as well as I did we were wasting our time.
"That's why the royal Ranger Corps and the Security Council have authorized resources to help prevent any attacks by these terrorists," Doug said. "That said, we won't be supplanting your authority, just complementing it with our own investigation."
"If you get any lead at all, even if it seems small and unimportant, let us know first," I said.
"Even before the Council," Doug added pointedly, making deliberate eye contact with Ingall, who gulped visibly.

The title of King didn't hold as much sway as in elder days, but the Ranger Corps was still highly respected... and feared. Even more than the Security Council.
You might wonder how the Security Council is such a big deal, why they want me monitored, why I'm trying to keep them out of the loop. The Ranger Corps suspects... Let's cut the baloney - I suspect that the Security Council has ties to the Skull Syndicate. I found it hard to believe at first too.
See, I was the one who created them after the war with the Korokonara, to help them peacefully integrate back into PulchraGean society. They weren't a security council at all, just a committee to divvy land and organize construction crews. By the time I discovered the heinous plot at Lucurbs I realized the King needed an intelligence network, since the sinister red mages used our lack of communication between town Law Offices to their advantage.
The committee was already organizing dozens of companies and groups all through PulchraGea for contracts to finish building the Korokonara settlement known as Tatertown, so when it was done I expanded their authority and resources to act as an information network. Little did I know that the newly formed Security Council would take their power and run.
It was my mistake to allow them to institute checks to my authority, but in my defense I was idealistic youth with no political experience. I just wanted what I thought was best for the people, especially after both a civil war and nearly devastating war with the powerful Korokonara ground forces. My reign had been one long chain of conflict and war after millenia of piece, so I didn't blame the citizenry for losing confidence in me. So I turned what was effectively the CIA and gave them parliamentary oversight. Not my best decision, since I was little more than a figurehead.
Now the Skull Syndicate had recently launched a terror campaign even more effective than John Mason's civil war propaganda. The goal was to remove what little power I had left. Which benefits the Council above all else. Hence my belief that the Council itself is behind the attacks.

Thus Doug and I are dressed in our best dress suits, Rangerswords strapped to our hips. It's a formal dinner in our honor, a celebration meant to provide an excuse for our presence. The reason for celebration is intentionally vague, though by the Council's designs rather than the Rangers'.
There is dancing and hors d'oeuvres on the veranda. It's a right proper ball, complete with orchestra. Doug and I work the crowd, greeting people, chatting and laughing, telling jokes and stories of past battles, et cetera. So it was during a particular animated retelling of my battle against the Necromancer, after being pulled into the distant past through a rip in space-time called the Aperture, that a particularly pretty younger Thaliel asked me to dance with her.
I thought for a second halfway through the song that she was just particularly frisky before she suddenly cut away. Someone exchanged partners with me quickly, stealing the young woman away and leaving another confused lass in her place. That, and a dedicated slaved Scroll in my back pocket.

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