Day 6

“Ah, why if it isn’t Wilmore!” The stocky woman with reddish blonde hair seated on the desk before the pair of imposing white doors of maple wood said as the young chief-clerk approached.
“Yes, Mrs Gedder. And I do believe I had an appointment with Mr Pollard at three o'clock.” Wilmore said as he straightened the marine blue frock coat on which he is now adorned.
“Go right ahead, Wilmore!” Mrs Gedder said, “He is expecting you. No need to knock.”

Regardless of what was said, Wilmore’s hand clenched as he approached the door into a fist where the knuckles of his ring and middle fingers protruded. Even so, he was asked not to knock and found it best to restrain himself to this end, and so simply pulled on the knockers.
“Wilmore!” The well-built man in grey with cropped dirty blonde hair, perhaps aged forty to forty-five, greeted the chief-clerk by patting him on the shoulder with one hand, and the other taking Wilmore’s hand. Wilmore had taken his fair share of firm handshakes in the past, but Mr Pollard’s grip bordered on crushing.
“...I am delighted to be here, Mr Pollard.” Wilmore said, as Mr Pollard released his hand, leaving a throbbing pain in the joints.

Mr Pollard ushered Wilmore into the room, “Come inside! No need to be shy here! Can I ask Mrs Gedder to bring some coffee?”
“Thank you, Mr Pollard, but no thanks.” Wilmore said as the doors slammed behind him, “Perhaps a cup of tea instead.”
“Oh, right! Of course!” Mr Pollard opened the door once again,” Oh, Mrs Gedder…”
“...Tea, Mr Pollard?.” Mrs Gedder interrupted with a smile.
“Ay!” Mr Pollard pointed at his secretary, making crossbow noises as he winked, “Atta girl!”

Wilmore found himself in an office the size of his apartment, complete with a liquor cabinet and a portrait of director Pollard in oil paint that covered a quarter of the wall. The furnishing of this office did justice to the resplendent view over the shimmering acropolis of Pallasandria visible from the window behind Mr Pollard’s mahogany desk. Two other people were seated on the on the sofa, one man and one woman. Although the two of them shared haircolour, namely red, the hue and hairdo were considerably different. The woman, whose expression was far too vigilant and serious for a lady evidently in her mid to late twenties, wore her hair of fiery gold in a ponytail pointing out from the back of her head, while the man, whose portly face did not match his spindly body, had strains of tomato coloured hair bursting out of his head like straw from a torn scarecrow.

Although the slender yet curvy physique of the woman, made conspicuous from her sculpted face and tight trousers, rendered any doubt of her femininity impossible; that did not prevent her from donning a shining cuirass over her torso and a sheathed rapier across her lap. Yet in spite of this, Wilmore’s attention was primarily aimed at the man.
His bespectacled eyes glanced towards the blue-haired man, which disarmed his staring which until then he hadn’t realised he was doing.

From behind Wilmore, a firm hand rested on his shoulder.
“See, this the one I was talking about.” Pollard ushered Wilmore towards a chair where he could be seated, as he himself headed to the armchair behind his own desk, “Wilmore is his name. I could imagine no other man better suited for the job.”
“Are you absolutely sure he will have the nerve, Pollard?” The woman said as her icey blue eyes scanned the chief-clerk up and down, “You do realise that if he ends up becoming a liability, this will reflect poorly on the Church’s cooperation with your firm.”
Pollard laughed as he spun in his chair to face the group, “Sarah… There’s no one more reliable and dedicated in this company than Wilmore here! You need a financial council on your team? This is your man!”

The man with candy-red hair feigned a polite smile, “Ah, but if Mr Pollard says we can trust him, then that must be so. After all, who knows this banking firm better than him?”
“Which is exactly why he would know which witless goon to send off as far away from Pallasandria as possible.” The woman offered.

A knock was heard from the doors before they opened, and Mrs Gedder entered with a steaming cup balanced on a silver tray, “Did anyone want a cup of tea?”
“Right over here.” Wilmore said, as he took the saucer with the cup from the tray.
“Thank you, Mrs Gedder.” Pollard smiled at his secretary, “You may leave now.l
With that, Mrs Gedder left as abruptly as she had come.
Wilmore took a sip from the cup, and cleared his throat, “Good afternoon, my esteemed pair. As you may have guessed, I go by Wilmore. I am afraid you have the advantage of me.”
“Ah, I do apologise.” The man said as he straightened his grey frock jacket, “My name is Leo J Grinley from Amper & Sand Insurance, and, ah… Let’s just address the elephant in the room, shall we? Yes, I am a claretian, as you can tell from my hair.” He ran his chubby fingers through his sprouty, red hair, mimicking someone far more suave.
“Ah, but of course that is no problem of mine.” Wilmore declared, “Old superstitions like those have no place in modern society, least of all such that nurture such hostility towards innocent people. Even so, I must commend your bravery. It was my understanding that Claretians would dye their hair or shave it, even to this day.”
“We’ve nothing to hide, Mr Wilmore. And acting as if we do will only make people suspicious. It’s not like we’re living in the old days anymore.”

“Sarah Deschanel.” The woman said, tracing the length of her scabbard, “Monster slayer. I will act as escort on this mission.”
Wilmore cocked an eyebrow, “Is that so? And what kind of assignment, pray tell, would require a monster slayer as escort?”
“Wilmore…” Pollard said, “You’ve been reading the papers, right?”
“Ah, but of course. Regarding the issue about the construction of the new canal at Auvray, the rural people claim that it will tear the countryside apart, while the urban people insist that it will join the cities together. But if you were to entertain for a moment…”
“That’s great, Wilmore..:” Pollard interrupted, “But what I wanted to discuss is what’s not been in the papers.”

Pollard rose from his chair and wandered around the office,” Wilmore… There’s been an incident. In Luragell, south of here. Quite a significant one at that too..”
“Oh, dear.” Although Wilmore’s voice carried all sincerity one could expect, his stoic expression showed no signs of faltering, “I hope everyone managed to come out unscathed.”
“...As of now not a single survivor has been found.” Sarah declared.
“I beg your pardon,” Wilmore said with a laugh, “You certainly can not mean in the entire village?”
“That is exactly what I mean.” Sarah said, “The entire settlement was frozen in an instance. Nothing remains of the population but ice sculptures. We suspect this was a monster attack, and judging by the angles of the ice, this was done by a barrage of attacks by a moving creature from an elevated position.”
“...Which would make this…?” Wilmore asked, the slightest tremble audible in his voice.
“It means we might be dealing with dragons, Wilmore.” Pollard said as he passed behind Wilmore’s seat, “Or rather, a single dragon. If monsters are moving on the offensive after this many centuries, it will be grim news indeed for us here in the Order.”

Wilmore’s face was drained of what little colour it had, “And… What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Ah, don’t you worry, Mr Wilmore!” Leo laughed, “The scope of this incident concerns us very little.”
“But our banking firm did have a lot of investment in that village, Wilmore.” Pollard said, “Farmers taking out considerable loans and all that. Not good for business.”
“That’s where Amper & Sand comes in, Mr Wilmore.” Leo said, “See, some of the estates had taken out considerable securities on their land, in the event of incidents like these. And as it happens, it falls on yours truly to investigate the extent of the damages, and just how much we would be owed.”
“And for a project of this scope,” Pollard said as he fell into his armchair once again, “A council specializing in finance is not unwarranted.”

“Ah, so my expertise is required in the aftermath of this calamity?” Wilmore said, “I would certainly be happy to oblige, but I do wonder…” He turned towards the woman on the sofa.
“...As the whereabouts of the most likely monster assailant responsible is yet to be known,” Sarah said, “The skills of someone who can fend off monsters may turn out to come in handy. Regardless of what the case may be, the Church has no intention to sit this one out, and neither do I. Rest assured, the perpetrator will be found. And they will pay dearly.”
“Ah,” Wilmore said, “In that case I would be hard pressed to decline. Very well, I shall be accompany the lot of you for this assignment, and provide financial council as it is needed. For the Chandler Firm. And for the people of Luragell.”
Pollard laughed, “See? Didn’t I say we could count on him? Now, you will travel to Luragell express from here as soon as possible. Gather at the docks at six in the morning sharp, and your ship will be waiting for you.”

Wilmore raised an eyebrow, “Ship… You mean… As in sailing? On the ocean?”
“Is that a problem, Wilmore?”
“I mean… I was under the impression that, for a mission like this, no expense would be too great. Even concerning transportation.
“The expense we can’t afford to pay, Wilmore,” Pollard said, “Is that of time. That’s why we’ve got to get you there with the speed of the waves. Will that be a problem to any of you?”
“No, sir!” Leo said.
“Certainly not.” Said Sarah.
Wilmore cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Excellent!” Pollard clapped his hand, “Then the matter is settled. Gentlemen. Miss Deschanel. I bid you good luck And fare well.”