Lord Malachai had survived wars, assassinations, divine interventions, and at least one incident involving a dragon who had mistaken an aircraft carrier for a floating buffet.
None of those experiences had prepared him for the repair estimates currently sitting on his desk.
"Three million, eight hundred thousand credits," Mara announced.
Malachai stared at the tablet.
"From yesterday's attack?"
"Primarily."
"Primarily?"
"The retirement lounge requires extensive renovations. The eastern barricade needs replacement. Three armored transports were destroyed, and Dr. Hex has submitted an invoice for experimental ammunition."
Malachai frowned.
"Experimental ammunition?"
"Pepperoni."
Silence.
"He's charging us for pepperoni?"
"Apparently, the Tactical Pizza Defense System consumed approximately forty-seven kilograms during the battle."
Malachai slowly placed his coffee down.
"Tell Hex that pizza is not a military expenditure."
"Already done."
"And?"
"He submitted an appeal."
"Of course he did."
Mara continued scrolling.
"He also submitted a request for additional laboratory funding."
Malachai looked up.
"For what?"
"Amphibian cognitive enhancement."
Malachai considered this.
"That sounds relatively harmless."
Mara hesitated.
"My Lord, I would strongly advise against saying that."
Unfortunately, the warning came too late.
His communicator chimed.
"Hey, Mal!"
Malachai sighed.
"Good morning, Hex."
"Great news! I taught a frog calculus!"
Malachai blinked.
"...Congratulations?"
"Thanks! Anyway, I think it's developing a personality. I'll keep you updated!"
The call ended.
Malachai stared at his communicator.
Then at Mara.
"Why do I have the feeling that conversation will become relevant later?"
"Because you know Dr. Hex, my Lord."
"Fair point."
He retrieved his coffee.
For approximately eleven seconds, the morning was peaceful.
Then the security alarms sounded.
Malachai closed his eyes.
"Naturally."
Mara checked her tablet.
"An unidentified convoy has arrived at the western checkpoint."
"Bastion?"
"No. Civilian vehicles. Six armed escorts. One passenger requesting sanctuary."
"Name?"
Mara's expression changed.
"Lord Varrick."
Malachai's coffee stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Oh."
He set it down.
"That's unfortunate."
Lord Varrick was not a particularly impressive man to look at.
He was tall, elegantly dressed, and possessed the sort of smile that suggested he had never personally suffered the consequences of his decisions.
Unfortunately, many other people had.
He had commanded mercenary armies, financed illegal experiments, and overseen the destruction of an entire civilian settlement during a campaign that had left thousands dead.
Several governments wanted him arrested.
Several villains wanted him dead.
And at least one former subordinate had publicly promised to personally remove his head.
Naturally, he had decided District Nine was the safest place to visit.
By the time Malachai reached the reception hall, the situation had already deteriorated.
"YOU MURDERED MY TEAM!"
A Guild hero had seized Varrick by the collar.
Two security officers struggled to separate them.
Varrick looked offended.
"Your accusations are unproven."
"YOU BROADCAST THE EXECUTIONS!"
"Allegedly."
A punch struck Varrick across the jaw.
He staggered backward.
A Justicar immediately stepped forward.
"Stand aside," the armored warrior commanded. "If his crimes are proven, he will answer for them."
The Guild hero rounded on him.
"Answer how? With another secret execution?"
"With judgment."
"That's what you call it?"
The Justicar's expression hardened.
"We do not apologize for punishing the guilty."
"And we don't need your permission to arrest them!"
The argument might have continued if a Dark Paladin hadn't drawn his sword.
"Enough."
The blade scraped against its sheath.
"Varrick dies here."
Three Guild heroes immediately moved between him and the prisoner.
"Put that away."
The Paladin ignored them.
"I know what that man did."
"So do we," one hero replied. "And you're not executing him in the middle of a refugee shelter."
The Paladin advanced.
The heroes braced.
He was stronger than any one of them.
Unfortunately for him, there were six.
Two grabbed his sword arm. Another intercepted his shoulder. A fourth erected a defensive barrier between him and Varrick.
The Paladin snarled.
"Release me!"
"No."
"You're protecting a monster!"
"We're preventing you from becoming another one!"
That earned an ugly silence.
Nearby, another Dark Paladin attempted to circle the confrontation.
A Guild speedster intercepted her.
A third reached for a concealed weapon.
Two heroes restrained him before he could draw it.
Within seconds, the reception hall had become a dangerous tangle of armored extremists and increasingly frustrated Guild personnel.
The Justicars were not helping matters.
One demanded Varrick's immediate transfer into their custody.
Another announced that anyone obstructing lawful judgment would be considered complicit.
A Guild captain stared at him.
"You're guests here!"
"We are servants of justice."
"Wonderful. Serve it without starting a civil war!"
At the far end of the hall, Seraph watched the confrontation with a grim expression.
Beside her stood the First Fallen.
"Your former colleagues seem determined to obstruct justice," he observed.
"They're trying to prevent unnecessary casualties."
"By protecting Varrick."
"By preventing your people from cutting through everyone between themselves and Varrick."
The First Fallen's expression darkened.
"My people do not kill innocents for sport."
"No," Seraph agreed. "But they're willing to accept consequences that others aren't."
"And yours aren't?"
Seraph said nothing.
That was the difficulty.
The Justicars and Dark Paladins had once emerged from the same dissatisfaction with the Guild.
Both believed justice had become compromised by politics, bureaucracy, and endless hesitation.
Both were willing to kill when they believed it necessary.
But where the Justicars demanded proof, discipline, and judgment, the Dark Paladins were willing to break institutions, laws, and conventions to reach those they considered guilty.
Neither faction was particularly comfortable being restrained by ordinary heroes.
And neither intended to abandon its principles simply because the Guild disapproved.
The First Fallen glanced toward the growing confrontation.
"They're outnumbered."
"Yes."
"That doesn't mean they'll surrender."
"I know."
"Then why are your former colleagues provoking them?"
Seraph looked toward the civilians watching from behind the security barriers.
"Because they don't want to spend the afternoon burying people who were fighting on the same side yesterday."
The First Fallen said nothing.
"Neither do I," she added.
Before he could answer, Director Ilyra Chen's voice sounded over the Guild communication network.
"All Guild personnel, defensive restraint only. No lethal force unless civilian lives are immediately threatened. Keep the Justicars and Dark Paladins separated."
A Guild captain acknowledged the order.
Then muttered, "Wonderful. We're babysitting two armies."
Another hero beside him sighed.
"At least they're technically on our side."
A Dark Paladin overheard.
"Technically?"
The hero closed his eyes.
"Please don't."
That was when Malachai arrived.
He took in the armed Paladins, the Justicars demanding custody, the Guild heroes physically restraining both factions, and Varrick's increasingly smug expression.
Then he sighed.
"I was gone for seven minutes."
Nobody heard him.
"HE BELONGS IN GUILD CUSTODY!"
"THE GUILD PROTECTED HIM!"
"HE SHOULD FACE THE SWORD!"
"WE DEMAND A FORMAL TRIBUNAL!"
"HE OWES ME TWO MILLION CREDITS!"
Malachai raised one hand.
The room fell silent.
Not because he shouted.
Because every weapon suddenly became too heavy to lift.
Void energy pressed gently against the floor, holding the combatants in place without harming them.
"Gentlemen. Ladies."
His voice remained perfectly pleasant.
"Would someone care to explain why my reception hall has become a battlefield?"
Varrick immediately stepped forward.
"Lord Malachai! Thank goodness. I came seeking sanctuary under your protection."
Malachai looked at him.
"Did you?"
"Yes. Bastion is hunting me."
"Understandable."
Varrick smiled.
"Then you'll guarantee my safety?"
"From Bastion? Certainly."
The smile widened.
"Excellent."
"From the consequences of your crimes? Absolutely not."
The smile vanished.
The Guild captain stepped forward.
"Then hand him over."
"No."
A Justicar commander spoke next.
"He must face judgment."
"He will."
The First Fallen's voice was cold.
"Then let us administer it."
"No."
Seraph folded her arms.
"And who determines whether your judgment is sufficient?"
Malachai smiled.
"Ultimately? I do."
The Guild representative frowned.
"With respect, you cannot simply refuse lawful extradition."
"Actually, I can."
"Under whose authority?"
"Mine."
The representative stared.
"That's not how international law works."
"An interesting observation."
Malachai folded his hands behind his back.
"But I believe you've all forgotten something rather important."
He paused.
"I'm a villain."
Silence.
"A rather successful one, if I may say so myself. And this territory belongs to me."
The Guild representative opened his mouth.
Malachai continued.
"District Nine maintains its own institutions, its own security forces, its own laws, and its own government. We control our borders and administer our affairs. Some nations recognize our sovereignty. Others do not."
He smiled pleasantly.
"A few have attempted to dispute it militarily."
Nobody interrupted.
"Their complaints have been noted."
Seraph regarded him carefully.
"Sovereignty doesn't make your judgment morally correct."
"Of course not," Malachai replied. "But it does establish whose judgment carries legal authority within my borders."
The First Fallen narrowed his eyes.
"And if your judgment is unjust?"
"Then you are welcome to challenge my reasoning."
"And if we reject it?"
"That is your privilege."
Malachai's smile thinned.
"Enforcing your rejection through violence inside my territory, however, would be a different matter."
Several Dark Paladins shifted.
Malachai noticed.
"Especially not while thousands of civilians are sleeping under my protection."
The First Fallen stepped forward.
"We are not afraid of you, Malachai."
"I would be disappointed if you were."
"Nor will we abandon justice simply because you claim sovereignty."
"Then we understand one another."
Malachai folded his hands behind his back.
"You intend to pursue justice. I intend to maintain order. Neither requires us to begin killing each other in my reception hall."
Seraph nodded slightly.
"Then demonstrate that your judgment deserves respect."
Malachai smiled.
"Gladly."
He turned toward Varrick.
"Protective detention. Full investigation. No unauthorized executions."
Varrick immediately protested.
Malachai ignored him.
The First Fallen watched the guards prepare to take Varrick away.
His expression remained grim.
"This isn't finished."
"No," Malachai agreed. "It isn't."
And for once, nobody mistook the absence of violence for agreement.
Varrick straightened.
"I demand a private suite."
Malachai blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"A private suite. Proper meals. Personal attendants."
Mara checked her tablet.
"Sir, you are being placed in protective detention."
"I am a lord!"
"Congratulations."
"I demand appropriate accommodations!"
Mara looked up.
"Would you prefer a cell with a window?"
Varrick stared.
"...What?"
"That's currently our premium option."
Nyxara, who had arrived halfway through the argument, began laughing.
Malachai rubbed his temples.
"Please escort him away."
The guards moved.
And then the public address system crackled.
"ATTENTION, INFERIOR LAND-DWELLERS!"
Everyone froze.
A deep, electronically amplified croak echoed through the reception hall.
"I AM LORD CROAKULUS, SUPREME OVERLORD OF ALL AMPHIBIANS!"
Malachai slowly looked toward the ceiling.
"...Hex."
"FOR TOO LONG, THE GLORIOUS AMPHIBIAN RACE HAS SUFFERED UNDER MAMMALIAN TYRANNY!"
The Guild representative blinked.
"Is that part of the hearing?"
"No," Malachai replied.
"THE AGE OF HUMAN DOMINANCE IS OVER! AMPHIBIAN SUPREMACY SHALL REIGN!"
The First Fallen looked genuinely confused.
"Is someone declaring war?"
"Apparently," Malachai answered.
Seraph frowned.
"Who?"
"A frog."
Silence.
Nyxara burst into laughter.
Malachai activated his communicator.
"Hex."
"Hey, Mal! Perfect timing!"
"Why is a frog declaring amphibian supremacy over my speakers?"
"Oh! Yeah! Funny story!"
"Hex."
"I was teaching him calculus, right? And then he started asking philosophical questions about biological hierarchies."
Malachai closed his eyes.
"Go on."
"Well, one thing led to another, and now he's written a manifesto."
"Of course he has."
"Honestly, Mal, it's impressive. He's only been intelligent for forty-three minutes!"
The speakers crackled again.
"THE DARK LORD MALACHAI IS A PATHETIC MAMMALIAN PRETENDER!"
Malachai opened his eyes.
"...What?"
"AND HIS HEAD FUR IS AN INSULT TO EVOLUTION!"
Vale, standing beside Seraph, covered her mouth.
Nyxara nearly fell over.
Malachai stared at the ceiling.
"My hair?"
"WE SHALL REPLACE HIS THRONE WITH A GLORIOUS LILY PAD!"
Malachai slowly raised both hands to his temples.
"Hex."
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Contain your frog."
"Working on it!"
"And do not give it weapons."
A pause.
"...Define weapons."
Malachai's expression went blank.
"Hex."
"Okay, before you get upset—"
"HEX."
"The miniature combat mech was supposed to be educational!"
A distant explosion shook the building.
Malachai closed his eyes.
"Of course it was."
Mara's tablet chimed.
"My Lord, security reports a small mechanized amphibian moving through the laboratory wing."
"Wonderful."
"It has apparently recruited two ordinary frogs."
"How?"
"Promises of unlimited flies."
Malachai sighed.
"That's not recruitment. That's catering."
Nyxara was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
Varrick, meanwhile, looked utterly bewildered.
"What kind of sovereign state is this?"
Malachai turned toward him.
"One where you're currently under arrest. Do keep up."
Unfortunately, the frog was not the day's greatest problem.
That distinction belonged to Bastion.
Every screen in the reception hall suddenly flickered.
A document appeared.
CLASSIFIED GUILD RECORD — VARRICK INCIDENT
Below it were signatures.
Financial transfers.
Suppressed witness statements.
And evidence that several Guild officials had knowingly concealed information about Varrick's massacre.
The Guild hero who had punched Varrick stared at the screen.
His expression changed.
"No."
The representative beside him went pale.
"Those records are classified."
The hero slowly turned.
"You knew?"
"That's not what—"
"YOU KNEW?!"
He struck the representative.
The room erupted.
A second Guild hero attempted to intervene.
Villains shouted that the Guild had protected murderers.
The Dark Paladins surged forward.
"Enough!" one of them snarled. "We have the evidence. End this!"
A Guild hero caught his sword arm.
"Not here!"
"Release me!"
"Look around you!"
The Paladin tried to pull free.
The hero held on.
Behind them, civilians were being hurried toward the exits. A child had begun crying. A medical worker was struggling to move a wheelchair through the crowd.
The Paladin saw them.
His grip loosened slightly.
But another Dark Paladin was already advancing.
Two more Guild heroes stepped into her path.
"Stand down!"
"You're protecting a murderer!"
"We're preventing you from turning this hall into a massacre!"
The woman shoved one of them.
He stumbled but refused to draw his weapon.
More Guild personnel arrived.
They formed a barrier between the two extremist factions.
A Justicar commander attempted to push through.
A Guild captain blocked him.
"Nobody is taking Varrick anywhere until this is sorted out!"
"We have a duty to administer justice!"
"And we have a duty to keep you from killing each other!"
The Justicar's eyes narrowed.
"You would obstruct justice?"
"I would rather obstruct you than explain to a hundred families why their protectors started murdering one another!"
The argument grew louder.
A Dark Paladin broke free from two heroes.
Another three immediately restrained him.
One Justicar activated a holy-tech weapon.
A Guild specialist disabled its power supply.
The Justicar turned furiously.
"How dare you!"
"File a complaint!"
Seraph's voice cut through the shouting.
"JUSTICARS! MAINTAIN DISCIPLINE! DO NOT ENGAGE THE GUILD!"
The First Fallen immediately turned toward her.
"Your people will not prevent mine from reaching Varrick."
"Then tell yours to stop forcing their way through civilians!"
For a moment, it looked as though the two factions might finally come to blows.
The First Fallen's hand settled on his weapon.
Seraph did not move.
They both understood what a fight between them could mean.
Not merely broken walls.
Not merely wounded soldiers.
A battle between two powerful factions, inside a sanctuary already filled with frightened families, with Malachai himself almost certain to intervene.
The First Fallen looked toward the civilians.
His jaw tightened.
Then he turned toward his followers.
"Nobody attacks the Guild unless they attack first."
Several Paladins looked furious.
He continued.
"And nobody touches the civilians."
One protested.
"But Varrick—"
"Will not escape judgment."
His voice sharpened.
"But if you cannot reach him without endangering innocent people, you will find another way."
Seraph glanced toward him.
For the briefest moment, something of their old partnership returned.
Then an explosion sounded near the security doors.
Varrick's bodyguards had activated their concealed weapons.
The guards staggered.
Varrick fled toward the residential wing.
The First Fallen turned immediately.
"There."
Seraph raised her sword.
"Contain him. No indiscriminate attacks."
The First Fallen gave her a sharp look.
"I know how to fight without killing bystanders."
"Then prove it."
He almost smiled.
"Gladly."
Both factions moved.
Not against each other.
After Varrick.
And despite their disagreements, Guild heroes continued physically separating those Justicars and Dark Paladins whose determination to administer justice threatened to become another battle.
Neither faction appreciated the interference.
But the Guild had the numbers.
And for the moment, that was enough.
Varrick ran.
He had planned this escape carefully.
The sanctuary dispute.
The political confusion.
The sudden release of compromising evidence.
All of it had created the perfect opportunity.
He reached a security door and forced it open.
Beyond lay a residential wing filled with displaced families.
A District Nine guard stepped into his path.
"Stop!"
Varrick fired.
The guard fell.
A woman screamed.
Varrick grabbed a nearby civilian and dragged her backward.
"STAY BACK!"
The corridor darkened.
Varrick froze.
Malachai stood at the far end.
His expression was calm.
Far too calm.
"Release her."
Varrick tightened his grip.
"One more step and she dies!"
Malachai looked at the wounded guard.
Then at the frightened woman.
Then at Varrick.
"You've made a very poor decision."
"I'M WARNING YOU!"
Malachai raised one finger.
The weapon vanished.
Varrick blinked.
A tendril of void energy wrapped around his wrist.
His arm twisted harmlessly away from the hostage.
Another tendril pulled the woman to safety.
Then Varrick was slammed against the wall.
Not hard enough to kill him.
Hard enough to make his point.
Malachai approached.
"You came to my territory seeking protection."
Varrick struggled.
"You promised—"
"I promised to protect you from Bastion."
Malachai's voice became colder.
"I did not promise to tolerate you shooting my employees."
The guard groaned.
Malachai glanced toward the approaching medical team.
"Status?"
"Alive, my Lord. Serious injury, but treatable."
Malachai exhaled.
"Good."
He looked back at Varrick.
"You will receive medical care. You will receive legal representation. And you will answer for your actions."
Varrick sneered.
"You think you're better than me?"
Malachai smiled faintly.
"No."
That answer surprised him.
"I'm a villain, Varrick. I've done terrible things. I've conquered nations, fought wars, and made decisions that would horrify the people currently sheltering under my roof."
He leaned closer.
"But I have rules."
Varrick swallowed.
"And you broke them."
Void restraints tightened around him.
"Take him away."
By evening, the immediate crisis had ended.
The wounded guard was recovering.
Varrick remained under heavy security.
The Guild was conducting an emergency internal investigation.
And three different organizations had filed formal protests against Malachai's handling of the incident.
He had acknowledged all three.
He had agreed with none.
The First Fallen and Seraph were among the last to leave the emergency meeting.
Neither looked pleased.
"Varrick remains alive," the First Fallen said.
"Yes," Malachai replied.
"And under your protection."
"Under my custody."
"A distinction that matters only if you eventually administer justice."
Malachai nodded.
"Then I suggest you provide evidence that will withstand scrutiny."
Seraph spoke.
"We will."
The First Fallen glanced toward her.
"And if the evidence is overwhelming?"
Malachai smiled faintly.
"Then I will judge accordingly."
"Even if the appropriate sentence is death?"
Malachai's expression did not change.
"My friend, I am a villain. Do you genuinely believe I object to capital punishment on principle?"
Silence.
Seraph regarded him carefully.
"Then our disagreement isn't whether punishment can be severe."
"No," Malachai replied. "It's who gets to decide, and under what circumstances."
The First Fallen stepped closer.
"We will not accept injustice simply because it comes from your throne."
"Nor should you."
Malachai's voice remained calm.
"But if you intend to challenge my authority, do so knowing what that challenge could cost the people sheltering here."
The First Fallen's eyes narrowed.
"Is that a threat?"
"A reminder."
Malachai gestured toward the city.
"Your people and Seraph's people spent yesterday defending these families. I would rather not see you destroy what you fought to protect."
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then Seraph nodded.
"We'll cooperate with the investigation. But we reserve the right to challenge the outcome."
"Naturally."
The First Fallen turned toward the door.
"This isn't over."
Malachai sighed.
"People keep telling me that."
The First Fallen paused.
"Because it isn't."
He departed.
Seraph lingered.
"He's angrier than he appears."
"I noticed."
"He won't tolerate another cover-up."
"Neither will I."
She studied him.
"Then don't disappoint us."
Malachai smiled.
"I'll do my best."
Seraph left.
Mara entered a moment later.
"My Lord, shall I classify the meeting as successful?"
Malachai considered the question.
"Nobody attempted to kill anyone."
Mara nodded.
"A significant improvement."
"Indeed."
She made a note.
"Shall I schedule another meeting?"
Malachai closed his eyes.
"Must you?"
"Unfortunately."
He sighed.
"Very well."
Vale found him outside the medical wing shortly afterward.
"How's the guard?"
"Stable."
"Good."
Malachai nodded.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Vale looked at him.
"You know people are angry."
"Yes."
"Some think you protected a monster."
"I know."
"Others think you went too far."
"Also aware."
She studied him.
"Does that bother you?"
Malachai considered the question.
"Of course."
Vale raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"My dear, I may be a villain, but I am not immune to criticism."
A pause.
"I merely reserve the right to ignore particularly foolish criticism."
She smiled.
Then her expression softened.
"You did what you thought was right."
"I did what I judged necessary."
"There's a difference?"
"Sometimes."
Vale took his hand.
"Just remember that having the final word doesn't mean you always have the best answer."
Malachai looked at her.
Then smiled faintly.
"That's why I keep people around who are willing to tell me when I'm being an idiot."
"Like me?"
"Especially you."
She laughed.
Unfortunately, their peaceful moment ended when his communicator chimed.
"Hey, Mal!"
Malachai closed his eyes.
"Hex."
"Great news! I caught Croakulus!"
"Wonderful."
"Yeah! He's secured in a reinforced containment tank."
"Excellent."
"Anyway, I've got to run some diagnostics on the mech. Mind watching him for a bit?"
Malachai opened his eyes.
"...Certainly."
"Thanks, buddy! You're the best!"
The call ended.
Malachai stared at the communicator.
Vale looked suspicious.
"Malachai."
"Yes?"
"Don't do anything ridiculous."
He smiled.
"Would I?"
She stared at him.
He smiled more pleasantly.
"That was not a reassuring answer," she said.
Later that night, Dr. Hex delivered the containment tank.
Inside sat Lord Croakulus.
He wore a miniature cape.
Malachai decided not to ask.
"Thanks again, Mal!" Hex said cheerfully. "He's really something, isn't he?"
"Indeed."
"Honestly, I think with enough guidance, he could become a productive member of society."
From inside the tank came an amplified croak.
"ALL MAMMALS SHALL BOW BEFORE THE GLORIOUS AMPHIBIAN EMPIRE!"
Hex grinned.
"See? Great vocabulary."
Malachai stared at the frog.
"Remarkable."
"Anyway, see you tomorrow!"
Hex departed.
Malachai waited until his friend's footsteps faded.
Then he looked down.
The frog looked up.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally, Lord Croakulus raised one tiny finger.
"YOU! HAIR-BEARING INFERIOR! RELEASE ME, AND I MAY SPARE YOU WHEN THE AMPHIBIAN EMPIRE RISES!"
Malachai regarded him thoughtfully.
"Do you know, I've spent the entire day listening to people argue about justice?"
"JUSTICE IS A MAMMALIAN WEAKNESS!"
"Quite."
"ONLY AMPHIBIANS DESERVE TO RULE!"
"Naturally."
"ALL OTHER SPECIES SHALL SERVE US!"
Malachai sighed.
"How unfortunate."
He picked up the tank.
"Come along."
Several minutes later, he entered the industrial waste-disposal wing.
The incinerator stood at the far end.
He opened its loading hatch.
Lord Croakulus stared at the orange glow.
"WHAT IS THIS MAMMALIAN CONTRAPTION?"
"An incinerator."
"WHAT IS ITS PURPOSE?"
"Disposal."
The frog considered this.
Then puffed out his chest.
"FOOL! NO PRISON CAN HOLD LORD CROAKULUS!"
Malachai opened the tank.
"Indeed."
He tipped it forward.
The frog tumbled inside.
"WAIT! I DEMAND DIPLOMATIC IMMUNI—"
The hatch closed.
A quiet mechanical hum followed.
Malachai stood there for a moment.
Then straightened his cuffs.
"Denied."
He turned off the lights and left.
For the first time all day, District Nine was quiet.
The following morning, Hex appeared in Malachai's office.
"Hey, Mal!"
"Good morning, Hex."
"Quick question. Have you seen Croakulus?"
Malachai calmly stirred his coffee.
"Unfortunately, no."
"Huh. Weird. His tank's empty."
"How mysterious."
"Yeah! And the security footage from last night is missing!"
"Terrible shame."
Hex scratched his chin.
"Well, I suppose he escaped. Smart little guy."
"Very smart."
"Anyway, I was thinking of trying the experiment again."
Malachai stopped stirring.
"...Again?"
"Yeah! But this time with a salamander!"
Silence.
Malachai slowly placed his coffee on the desk.
"Hex."
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Have you ever considered taking up gardening?"
Hex blinked.
"Gardening?"
"Yes. Flowers. Vegetables. Something that doesn't develop an ideology."
Hex considered this.
Then his eyes widened.
"Oh! Genetically enhanced carnivorous plants!"
Malachai closed his eyes.
Somewhere in the universe, fate was laughing at him.
And for once, the Dark Lord genuinely considered retiring.
Then Mara entered.
"My Lord."
Malachai opened one eye.
"Please tell me it's good news."
Mara hesitated.
"District Nine's internal security assessment is complete."
"And?"
"Trust between several resident factions has deteriorated. We've recorded multiple confrontations, three requests for separate housing, and several threats of withdrawal from the sanctuary agreement."
Malachai's expression slowly changed.
Mara continued.
"Bastion's latest information release appears to have achieved its intended effect."
He stared at the report.
For several seconds, the office was silent.
Then Malachai leaned back.
"So."
His voice became thoughtful.
"They've finally found something that works."
Mara nodded.
"It would appear so."
Malachai looked toward the city beyond his windows.
He had protected his people from armies.
He had defeated monsters.
He had stopped Bastion's soldiers.
But this was different.
An army could be destroyed.
A weapon could be dismantled.
A fortress could be defended.
Distrust was considerably more difficult.
And unlike the frog, it could not simply be thrown into an incinerator.
Malachai sighed.
"Very well."
He stood.
"Call a meeting with the faction representatives."
Mara nodded.
"Immediately, my Lord."
"And Mara?"
"Yes?"
"Make sure everyone understands that weapons are prohibited."
"Of course."
"Also, no shouting."
"I'll include it in the notice."
"And absolutely no frogs."
Mara paused.
"...Frogs, my Lord?"
Malachai stared into the distance.
"Especially frogs."