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The Women Of Balance

Chapter Text

Lucretia rubbed her temples in frustration. The collateral damage reports that she had to look over were horrendous, to say the least. It was a hard life managing rambunctious children tracking down world-destroying relics. She honestly wouldn't doubt if they were sapping years off of her life from their antics, and there were days she really thought it might be best to simply attempt to feed all her bills to the Voidfish.

 ...Actually. That could be quite the idea.

While the destruction of Phandalin necessitated consumption by the Voidfish, due to its implications with the relics, there was the lovely matter that there was no need to pay anything towards the reconstruction of a city that for all anyone knew had always been a large circle of black glass. 

Who was to say that it wouldn't be an excellent idea to just...make some of these other little problems disappear? The investigations of intentional destruction of Rockport Limited property and theft. Goldcliff militia being intricately tied to the semi-illegal practice of battlewagon racing, including possible embezzlement of funds and connections to murder. Any number of bills for property, therapy, and other victims of relic related activities.

She let out a quiet chuckle, pushing her chair out from behind her desk. For that matter, she supposed she could throw all of the everyday bills, all of the old construction accounts, everything into the fish's maw. There was nothing to keep her from signing a new credit contract with catering companies down in the world below every month and destroying it right before payment came due. 

"You're shifting dreadfully close to a dramatic alignment change," she said to the empty room. Her gaze rolled up towards the lofty ceiling as she hummed quietly to herself, thoughtful. Despite all the expense, Lucretia was absolutely delighted in how fast things had been progressing with the Bureau recently. The entire plan was really coming together, and every day it seemed like the world was closer to its salvation. That had to be worth throwing out a near infinite amount of platinum with no thought of returns. 

Truly, she was proud.

Warmth spread deep inside her as she thought about the great works her hand had led. After all, without her vision the relics would still be lurking. Without her hand the Bureau would not stand so strong. Without her, there would be so many broken men and women and gentlebeings who had not received the purpose and growth that their time in the Bureau had granted them. She would not have, in turn, grown from knowing all of them. Truly, this was a success of a mission, logistical horror though it may have been at times.

She stood and walked to a wall of her office, waving her hand and muttering words under her breath. A false window appeared, allowing her to gaze down on the world below her. None of them remembered Lucretia. The fresh-faced mage who danced on their ground not too too long ago. She was certain it was all worth it, of course. The world needed safety, her people needed freedom from the destruction and thrall of ancient objects that wished nothing more than to rend lives apart. If that meant that Lucretia had to be stricken down and The Director rose from her shadow, never to be gazed upon, simply to sit in obscurity like the dark side of the be it. 

She placed her hand on the false glass, the illusion wavering slightly. Gently, she let her head rest forward on the image, watching the small changes in the image below. Her lips curled into a maternal smile, but only for a second--her face quickly returned to one of somber elegance as she straightened upright. She waved her hand and the window disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Her feet did not so much walk as glide across the floor back to her desk. The Director sank into her plush chair, barely vocalizing a sigh. There was no time for sentimentalities. There was work to be done.