fugue_claire

Fugue

7:20 AM.

It was an auditorium. Magister Whiteclaw Junior, Vincent, held his lectures here. It had been a shock to the faculty that the location had been temporarily requisitioned for the insertion of a guillotine. But, his classes had been cancelled for the next week, due to his arrest, so no one was using it.

I had told His Majesty Sir Agarma, you’re accruing debt. Magister Vincent’s peers won’t be happy he isn’t attending classes, and he can’t teach. There are factions who won’t be happy you’re executing Samsara, the letter from the FVG isn’t a blank cheque. You’ll need to ensure it pays off.

He had thanked me. I didn’t want thanks.

I had checked my records, and I had loaded the deck with a second Magician. Years ago, I’d taken some tarot decks and modified the distribution of cards in the hopes of increasing entropy. I forget if he’d requested it, or if I’d done it myself. I will need to renormalize their distributions.

I’d been standing on a stage for 10 minutes, rounding the guillotine, ensuring it was structurally stable, was centered correctly, et cetera. His Majesty Sir Agarma could easily hire additional consuls, and occasionally he did, but they were all temporary. It wasn’t necessary for them to stick around. I can’t help that I’m so perfect for him. I’m so happy he made me realize that.

But, he should’ve known better than to assign his most trusted advisor such a menial task. He probably just wanted her to feel important when he didn’t have anything pressing. I appreciated the thought, if he’d had it. He had so many.

Was that blade really sharp enough?