Brellian N’verinkar looked out his mostly glass walled office, letting his mind wander in a different direction from where his eyes chose to look.
Less than imposing physically, short of hair and actually in every other measure of physical stature, he relied instead on a rather formidable and calculating mind, his skills of observation, and an ability to foresee how things might look a few moves into the future.
Brellian used these skills in symphonic precision to work his way through the lowest rungs of government agencies, slowly climbing the ranks, employing ruthlessness and lack of compassion as his chief allies. He worked his way into and through middle management, and was now well into the upper rung of the government bureaucracy, ambitiously still moving upward, still leaving a trail of broken careers – and worse – mysteriously in his wake.
In his current position for a scant 2 months, he pondered what was happening south of the city. The changes he wished to make, intended to make, would have to wait. How to proceed?
He looked out over the jagged edges of the financial district skyline, casting his gaze away from the smoke he saw rising from countless locations. He turned away, looking towards his desk, staring at the shadows slowly moving in their daily march across the floor. The Audhran tower off to his left was supplying just enough ambient light so as to draw out angular and geometric shadow-shapes on his office floor, seemingly calling him to the proper methodology.
He continued pondering his next move. Society was moderately open and free – with salient exceptions. There was that one major institutionalised prejudice left in this society, and unlike most bureaucrats, who worked their way into positions of prominence, he was not planning to work to eliminate that prejudice, his aim was to protect and enhance this bedrock element of Arrhazonan society. There were dangerously corrosive forces eroding the foundation of what after all were millennia of tradition, and what was playing out on this night clearly illustrated the depth of this corrosive force.
Brellian knew not to get his own hands dirty, at least not in any traceable and accountable way that might adversely impact his career. He also understood that use of illicit information – which meant involving loyal forces who would employ illegal and covert means to achieve desired results against those who stood in his way. This would run the gamut from discrediting to kidnapping, ostracising, torture, and murder. These would all be indispensable tools in achieving his goals.
In this moment, those were tangential considerations. The immediate task was to quell the riot that was threatening to destroy large blocks of the southeast city quadrant. If the riot spread, his aims might be thwarted before he ever had the chance to implement them.
Moving to his desktop interface, Brellian quickly placed his first formal call to the chief of government, the very person who had appointed him to his current and new position, mistakenly believing that Brellian shared his views of governance and was a loyal supporter, rather than someone who aimed to cast the Zreltian from power.
CoG Zreltian was nearly apoplectic. To Brellian, obviously Zreltian was a man who could not deal with a challenge. Brellian filed this thought away for future reference, and moved into the topic at hand.
“I’d like to recommend use of the 4th and 6th tactical battalions, moving them into the disturbed areas, and giving the commanders free reign to act as the situation dictates.”
Zreltian was hesitant. “I worry over potential repercussions which might arise from the use of brutal force, Brellian. In case you are unaware of political doings, the assembly is not very happy with current conditions, and they wish to enact measures designed to achieve gender equality. One more issue could lead to a no confidence vote in my governance.”
Brellian assured him there would be no attention given to this incident by media. His methodology was slowly establishing a rather nefarious rumour network and reputation. He well knew failure would be on his back, that the CoG would deny all involvement. He could live with that minute possibility for the chance at greater success.
“Very well, move ahead!” were the final words from the exasperated Zreltian, the interface connection disconnecting at his last word.
