Chapter 6: The New Enforcer of the Fallen

  The sounds of the bustling city soon faded behind us as Morbius and I sat silently in the carriage, watching the scenery pass by. The once lively streets turned into sprawling vineyards stretching endlessly along the horizon, and the smooth cobblestone roads of the capital gave way to rough gravel paths, each bump resonating through the carriage’s frame. Even the horses’ hooves sounded different now, louder, as if marking a solemn journey.

  Morbius, as he often did, sat in contemplative silence, his crimson eyes staring out the window. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking—perhaps remembering all those he had seen take on the title of Enforcer before. But he didn’t offer any insights. His loyalty, although boundless, came with walls I often felt I’d never penetrate.

  After what felt like hours, the estate finally appeared in the distance. It loomed on the horizon like a fortress, large and imposing, with massive white pillars framing the entrance. The wraparound porch seemed endless, encircling the mansion as if to protect it from the outside world. Even at this distance, the place radiated a quiet, almost eerie sense of power. As we neared, I took a deep breath, bracing myself.

  The carriage came to a slow stop at the front of the estate, and Morbius reached for the door, stepping out and then extending his hand to help me. As I exited, the cold air hit me, a reminder of the gravity of this visit. I took in the estate, towering and pristine, yet there was something about it that felt empty—as though no one truly lived here.

  As I stared at the massive front doors, they creaked open, and ten figures stepped out. They were all clad in identical black robes, their faces obscured by dark masks. Each moved with a deliberate, almost ceremonial precision, and I recognized one of the voices as the man who had visited me at my own estate—a member of the Fallen who had been the first to ask me about Moore’s execution.

  Without a word, all ten figures kneeled, their silence laden with deference but also a hint of challenge.

  The familiar voice spoke, cutting through the silence. “What brings you to our humble estate, Sir Bookkeeper?”

  I cleared my throat, steadying myself as I responded, “I’ve come to see who will take on the mantle of the new Enforcer of the Fallen.”

  The hooded figure tilted his head, the gesture subtle but unmistakably laced with impatience. “And what, pray tell, do you mean by that? According to the Fallen Guide, that role should be inherited by the firstborn.”

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  I began to pace, trying to collect my thoughts. “Yes, I am aware. Moore has a daughter. But…”

  The figure interrupted, his voice sharp. “There should be no ‘but.’ The rules are the rules.”

  I looked him in the eye, my voice growing firmer. “Indeed. But these are unusual circumstances. Moore’s firstborn wasn’t born through natural means. She was created.”

  A hush fell over the group, and I could feel the weight of their scrutiny, each of them evaluating me as much as I was them. One of the hooded figures stepped forward, pulling down her mask to reveal a strikingly beautiful woman with flowing brown hair and piercing gray-blue eyes. Her face held an almost unsettling calmness, as if she had long ago come to terms with her existence.

  “Why does any of that matter?” she asked, her voice steady but defiant. “I have trained my entire life to fulfill this role. My birth circumstances should not disqualify me.”

  I stopped pacing, locking eyes with her. “Do you want to know what makes you dangerous?”

  She knelt again, lowering her head respectfully. “And what would that be, Sir Bookkeeper?”

  I took a step closer, my tone even. “You have no ties to this world. No family. Nothing the Fallen can leverage. Your mother is unknown, and your father has risen to power elsewhere, abandoning the Fallen. Without those connections, how can we trust your loyalty?”

  She bowed her head further, her voice resolute. “I will do whatever it takes to prove myself. My father may have created me for his own ambitions, but I am not bound to his goals. I am my own person, and my loyalty is to the Fallen.”

  Her words struck me as sincere, even as the cold pragmatism in me questioned them. Still, loyalty was a currency in the Fallen, one that had to be earned. Section 82, Article 4 of the Fallen Guide came to mind: If there is doubt about a new member’s loyalty, they must face an impossible trial.

  I stood there, pondering her resolve. Just then, Morbius stepped closer, his voice low but commanding as he leaned in. “Why not have her eliminate her most trusted advisors?”

  The suggestion was harsh, yet I knew it was a necessary test. “Are the figures behind you your most trusted advisors?” I asked her, watching for any flicker of hesitation.

  She looked over her shoulder, then nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  I allowed my expression to harden, taking on the cold authority I knew she expected. “To prove your loyalty to the Fallen, you must eliminate every one of them.”

  Without a moment’s pause, she drew a small dagger from her robe, turning to face her advisors. There was a terrifying grace in her movement, a swiftness that spoke of years of training. But before she could strike, Morbius intercepted her, grabbing her wrist with a firm yet careful hand.

  I cleared my throat, preparing to deliver the final judgment. “Congratulations. You have proven your loyalty to the Fallen. Once Moore’s departure is formalized, you will take his place as Enforcer. But until then—and only until then—you must remain unseen.”

  The woman quickly returned her hood and mask, bowing deeply in thanks. Her voice was almost a whisper. “Thank you, Sir Bookkeeper. I will serve without fail.”

  Morbius turned, his hand resting on the carriage door as he glanced at his pocket watch. “My Lord, we must make haste. We have one more appointment to keep.”

  I gave one last nod to the hooded figures, then climbed back into the carriage, a feeling of unease lingering as we departed. There was something about the woman’s determination—a fierceness tempered by quiet loneliness. For better or worse, she would soon hold the power of an Enforcer, and what she would do with it was a question only time could answer.

  The carriage jolted into motion, the estate vanishing behind us, shrouded once again in shadow.