III

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. A glimpse is all it could be from this distance in a storm. Whenever lightning flashed, grotesque, twisted spires reached towards the sky as if pleading with some deity to explain why they had become so deformed. The building was completely soundproof to the outside. The only evidence of thunder was a low vibration through the walls, furniture, wall plaques, accoutrements. Rain streaked the window but it too conveyed no sound.

The window spanned the entire back wall of the office. The window's bottom edge sat around waist height and its top edge about two feet above the average person's height. Perpendicular to the window sat a metallic desk, bulky and designed only for utility. The chair was just as pragmatic. Made to be sat in for short periods of time. As though the owner was never intended to sit there all day. Currently it was empty. Opposite the empty chair was another on which sat Gloria. She had been in Weston's chambers at the Imperium before, but never while he was out on duty. He had sent a courier earlier that day to tell her that he needed to see her here immediately after his shift.

His shift ended forty-five minutes ago. Gloria knew that we wasn't out on patrol as his uniform was mounted on a stand behind his desk. She didn't know what it was made of, but it repelled any projectile that wasn't explosive or incendiary. It was a vibrant blue color with gold piping along all edges and three gold I's on the chest. It was made to be pulled on over the Imperium legate's cassock and draped over the torso front and back to mid thigh. The back draping spanned shoulder to shoulder whereas the front covered only the body. The only part of the tabard that remotely looked like armor were the epaulettes. Both in the same blue and gold piping. The cone-shaped helmet was just as impenetrable as the tabard. It was a matching blue to the rest of the uniform but with a circle of gold piping right where the head would be, almost as if it was outlining a general idea of a head. The eyes were black lenses mounted to the helmet with gold grommets. These lenses somehow protected the legate from flashes and never seemed to crack. Over the mouth was a feature that worked as a voice amplifier when the legate needed. It could also be assumed that it filtered air as well since gas attacks rarely worked on legates. With the tabard resting on the stand it was hard to imagine how intimidating three fully uniformed legates descending from above could look.

Gloria was reading the plaque of a saying mounted above the doorway for the fiftieth time and trying to discern if it was Weston's sordid humor or something else that provoked its placement when the door finally opened. Weston stepped through and said, "Apologies for keeping you waiting, Gloria. It's good to see you." Gloria smiled and arose out of the chair to embrace Weston. "Have you eaten? Would you like some tea or coffee? I'll have something sent up right away if you are."

"I am a little hungry. And coffee, please."

Weston turned to a squire who stood just outside the door and said to him, "Bring us two dinners and a carafe of coffee with two mugs. On the double." Gloria could not hear a reply, but she got the impression that one was not needed. Weston closed the door and gestured for Gloria to sit. "You're probably wondering why I asked you to come see me."

"Well it's not like I haven't been here before."

"True," Weston said as he sat in his chair. "We've had quite a few discussions in these chambers over the years."

"We've had more arguments than discussions from what I remember."

"Ah, but like discussions, arguments are very telling." He looked her in her eyes as he said, "I'm afraid we must have one today."

Goosebumps broke out over Gloria's arms. "About what?"

Weston, without breaking eye contact, said "It's been a long time since you were last here. You have not seen the little indulgence I've added to my chambers just above the door." Gloria swallowed as she turned her head to read the plaque one more time. My children, you will never see anything worse than yourselves, it read. "While I was on patrol looking for Discontents beyond the wall, I came across two in the Academic sector, but you wouldn't know it was called that. The sectors beyond the wall are not for the layperson. They were huddled around a fire they had lit in a small metal trashcan. They were using books that they had found in the building they hid to escape the cold." Weston chuckled sardonically. Gloria turned back to Weston. He was staring down and to his left at nothing. A wry smile curled one end of his mouth.

"The silly bastards didn't even know what kind of a building they were in. They couldn't read! How could they know it was a library?" He chuckled again to himself.

"What happened to those men?"

Weston regarded her once again. "They were executed on the spot." Gloria covered her mouth with her hand to vainly hide a gasp. "Being found outside the confines of the realm invokes a harsh punishment in and of itself. But having defiled a library on top of that. Judgment could only rule one way. It's not their fault that the ability to read is far less common today than it was in the old world. Guilt is still guilt."

Gloria lowered her hand and leveled a cold stare at Weston. She said, "Wanting to stave off the cold does not indicate culpability. Those men did not deserve to die."

"Sympathy for Discontents is just as vile as the crimes they commit."

Gloria opened her mouth to say something, but nothing leapt to mind.

Weston leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands into a stand that he brought his chin very close to. He said, "Do you know why the Imperium uses the term 'Discontents' instead of 'Malcontents'? They mean virtually the same thing, both are dissatisfied with current conditions. 'Malcontents' typically are on a suicidally dangerous path that usually is expressed with a desire to overthrow a government regardless of how the rest of the population feels. 'Discontents' are those that are also not satisfied with their government and also usually want to overthrow it, but they want to get the rest of the population as restless at themselves before attempting any sort of coup. The problem with either is they rarely have any realistic idea what it is to rule."

"So the King should remain in power when there is clearly a problem with the system?"

Weston sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Systems are just a means to an end. What powers the systems are the people and what drives the people are principles. The only true way to peace is an adherence to principles. The Discontents have thrown them away. I'm not sure by choice or because they have simply forgotten them, I am not a Discontent. But what do you think," he locked eyes with her, "Gloria?"

She stiffened. Her hands tightly gripped the loose fabric of her pants. The dry lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. Her voice was far too meek for how she wanted to say, "What do you mean?"

"It's useless to try to hide a secret from the Imperium. We have the right to know." When Gloria didn't reply, he said, "I'll admit that I didn't suspect you for a long time; didn't even think about it. Of course, I had to be sure before I acted. Our years of friendship did accord you that."

"I'm no Discontent!"

"Forgive me, I got ahead of myself. The quote above the door."

"What about it?"

"The night that I executed those Discontents in the library. One of the books they had ripped apart had that quote on one of the remaining pages. Unfortunately, they had already burned the cover so I don't know who wrote it or why. But it was from a scene in which a father says that to his offspring after they became frightened by their own shadows. After what I had learned that night. I couldn't agree more. I had that plaque made to remind me."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You never asked what a library was."

"So?"

"Libraries don't exist inside the walls. The Imperium made their existence in the outside world a closely guarded secret. How could you possibly know about them unless you associate with Discontents?"

"You could have mentioned them at some point. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm a Discontent."

"Granted that is true. Even I'm human and therefore prone to mistakes such as slips of the tongue. That being said, you gave yourself away. I never mentioned the two Discontents that night were men."

Gloria lowered her head and tried to surreptitiously glance at the door. When that squire came in with the food, that would be the time to make her escape. But where was he?

"Libraries are secret because we don't want the knowledge used in a... disagreeable way."

Gloria lifted her head, brows furrowed. "What?"

"Has the question not occurred to you? Or any of the Discontents? 'Why does the Imperium keep libraries intact, but secret?' No? Knowledge is precious, you see. We preserve the libraries to keep that knowledge available to us, not the populace. We keep their existence secret because we know the knowledge would fall into the wrong hands."

"What do you mean 'the wrong hands'?" She wasn't sure where her anger came from, but it sprung out of her before she could stop herself. "Knowledge means nothing unless it is shared!"

"Do you give a child a burning stick before they understand the capabilities of fire? Knowledge is dangerous without the wisdom to use it."

"How are we supposed to gain wisdom to use knowledge if we don't have access to knowledge?"

"Experience. What do you think the Imperium has been doing?"

"Curtailing any sort of intellectual growth. Stymieing civilization!"

Weston sighed. Then he rose from the chair and stood next to the window facing outwards. Without turning he said, "What we, the Imperium, learned from those libraries guides everything that we do. Every tenet we abide by. Every law enacted. Every judgment." In a flash of lightning, Gloria saw a rising cloud of smoke. "The King was assassinated today."

Gloria's eyes snapped back to Weston.

"You see that smoke out there. It just happened. Discontents took the King hostage. Negotiations broke down and a bomb went off." There was no emotion in his voice. He said it like he had memorized it.

"How could you possibly know what happened?"

"Because we allowed it."

"You 'allowed' it? Aren't you supposed to protect everyone? Including the King?"

"We protect what deserves to be protected. We also teach those that we protect."

"What could we possibly learn from this? People are dead!" She wasn't sure when she rose from her chair but she inched her way back towards the door.

"To teach you why the information in those libraries is dangerous. You seek to restore the world to what it once was. And to do that you found out how to make bombs. We know your secrets, your plans, because it is the Imperium's right to know them."

"The old world had so many good things, so much better—"

Weston whirled around and for the first time raised his voice. "That. World. Failed. Why would we want to emulate it?"

Gloria froze mid-backstep. "The King has no power," Weston continued more calmly, as if he did not notice Gloria's standing closer to the door. "He never did. There will be a mourning period, but a new King will be appointed before the week is up. His assassination will mean nothing. He was always a face of the government. Where all woes, challenges, boons are directed. So those that actually run things can do so without interference. Do it right."

Gloria's eyes widened. It was hard to catch her breath. "The... the Imper-Imperium..."

"Is the government. We are ensuring a new civilization emerges from the ashes of the old. And this time we are making sure that it's done right."

Two knocks at the door.

Weston turned to face out the window again. Over his should he said, "Would you mind getting the door since you're so close."

Without a thought Gloria stepped to the door and opened it. On the other side were two fully uniformed legates aiming their wrist-mounted dart throwers at her. Their hands flat to aid aiming and prevent any self injury.

"I'm done with her," Weston said. With their free hands the legates grabbed both of Gloria's arms and escorted her away. She did not fight it.