Member
The opulence of the Imperial Office of Intelligence was completely lost on Faiza Ahlam. Such things were for impressing and intimidating the common folk unlucky enough to be dragged in for interrogation (the screaming of tortured souls down the hall also helped), but the Sheikah operative was not one of the common folk. Though her skin was dark and her hair the bright red of the Gerudo, the dispassionate red eyes peering out from behind a traditional Sheikah uniform mask belied her mixed heritage, as did the identifying sigils etched into her back.
Finally, the grand doors in front of her swung open and a richly-dressed page bowed her in. The boy was clearly as soulless as Faiza herself, his blue Hylian eyes dead, bereft of every emotion. Faiza did not so much as glance at him as she breezed past; after all, servants were only furniture. All her attention was on the person sitting at the carved mahogany desk: the Sheikah Spymaster, her handler. His gloved hands steepled pensively over the mound of paperwork on the desk as he watched her, calculating, searching for any signs of weakness.
“Operative Twelve. My apologies for the wait.” The words were a formality: there was no apology in the man’s red eyes, as blank and soulless as Faiza’s own with only a hint of the psychopathic cruelty hidden under the stone-like exterior. Such people went far in the Sheikah ranks, as they took an especial delight and care in executing their duties. Faiza could only hope she would someday become as heartless and cunning as her boss.
“No apologies necessary,” the half-Gerudo replied with a respectful bow, then got straight to the point. “The operations in the Gerudo province are proceeding as expected. With the additional crackdown on lawbreakers, those who would cause harm to Our Glorious Empire are becoming more apparent and easier to eliminate. The additional chaos ordered by His Majesty has been quite successful in preventing any sort of organized rebellion.”
“Excellent. But… it looks here that you have exceeded your quota… there are several eliminations which the Hall of Intelligence did not order…” The Spymaster trailed off, waiting for an explanation. Exceeding the quota was not considered bad, and was generally encouraged… but only if it contributed toward the Empire’s stability and power.
“I took initiative, as you suggested. There were several members of the local community who were becoming too influential among their peers. Matron Haamida Zaher, as you know, was attempting to found a community center and orphanage to prevent the local youth from joining a life of crime. I do not need to mention that such places where many people may congregate and complain about their lot in life become hotbeds of rebellion. Naturally, I could have simply eliminated her alone, but someone would have stepped up to take her place. And in light of Our Glorious Empire’s new policy of racial purity, I felt it much more appropriate to eliminate the lot, both Zaher and the poisonous mushrooms under her wing. The community had no time to mourn the tragic fire, as the local mine suffered an explosive gas problem the very same day. The rest is more of the same, as I believe you have already inferred, Master.”
“I have. I simply wanted to hear it in your own words. Excellent work, Operative Twelve, His Majesty is impressed. One day, no-one will ever know that such cattle as the Gerudo ever existed, but for now our work must continue. With someone else, I’m afraid, you’re being reassigned.” The Spymaster shuffled his papers.
“…Reassigned, sir?” It had taken Faiza years to build her cover out in the provinces. A sudden reassignment rarely boded well. Generally, it was a euphemism for forced retirement.
“There’s no need to get worked up, Operative. It’s by personal request of His Majesty. We need eyes and ears in the growing Other population down in the city slums, someone with skills and a good demonstration of their ability to prevent a rebellion through surgical strikes. Someone like you. Congratulations on your promotion, Operative Twelve.”
For a moment Faiza was speechless. An assignment directly from the Emperor himself? It was a tremendous honor, signs that she was moving up in the Sheikah underworld. She bowed low, still processing the change of circumstances. “It would be my honor to serve His Majesty and Our Glorious Empire in this way,” she replied politely.
“I knew you would say that. We’re still working on your new cover and the details of the assignment. For now, I suggest you take a trip down to your new home and start scouting. Do not make contact; simply observe and get to know the area. Return tomorrow at midnight for your supplies. And one more thing, Operative."
"Yes, Master?"
"There is going to be a cleansing tonight at midnight, which is why we cannot get your supplies to you so soon. I do hope you will demonstrate your loyalty to Our Glorious Empire with your assistance in this matter. Dismissed!”
Faiza bowed again and backed out of the room. The large doors thudded closed before her face, leaving her to contemplate her sudden windfall as she applied a glamour to hide her red eyes and markings. Then she made her way to the slums in traditional Gerudo dress, looking every bit a wide-eyed new immigrant seeing a large city for the first time, observing and waiting for the night's event.
Finally, the grand doors in front of her swung open and a richly-dressed page bowed her in. The boy was clearly as soulless as Faiza herself, his blue Hylian eyes dead, bereft of every emotion. Faiza did not so much as glance at him as she breezed past; after all, servants were only furniture. All her attention was on the person sitting at the carved mahogany desk: the Sheikah Spymaster, her handler. His gloved hands steepled pensively over the mound of paperwork on the desk as he watched her, calculating, searching for any signs of weakness.
“Operative Twelve. My apologies for the wait.” The words were a formality: there was no apology in the man’s red eyes, as blank and soulless as Faiza’s own with only a hint of the psychopathic cruelty hidden under the stone-like exterior. Such people went far in the Sheikah ranks, as they took an especial delight and care in executing their duties. Faiza could only hope she would someday become as heartless and cunning as her boss.
“No apologies necessary,” the half-Gerudo replied with a respectful bow, then got straight to the point. “The operations in the Gerudo province are proceeding as expected. With the additional crackdown on lawbreakers, those who would cause harm to Our Glorious Empire are becoming more apparent and easier to eliminate. The additional chaos ordered by His Majesty has been quite successful in preventing any sort of organized rebellion.”
“Excellent. But… it looks here that you have exceeded your quota… there are several eliminations which the Hall of Intelligence did not order…” The Spymaster trailed off, waiting for an explanation. Exceeding the quota was not considered bad, and was generally encouraged… but only if it contributed toward the Empire’s stability and power.
“I took initiative, as you suggested. There were several members of the local community who were becoming too influential among their peers. Matron Haamida Zaher, as you know, was attempting to found a community center and orphanage to prevent the local youth from joining a life of crime. I do not need to mention that such places where many people may congregate and complain about their lot in life become hotbeds of rebellion. Naturally, I could have simply eliminated her alone, but someone would have stepped up to take her place. And in light of Our Glorious Empire’s new policy of racial purity, I felt it much more appropriate to eliminate the lot, both Zaher and the poisonous mushrooms under her wing. The community had no time to mourn the tragic fire, as the local mine suffered an explosive gas problem the very same day. The rest is more of the same, as I believe you have already inferred, Master.”
“I have. I simply wanted to hear it in your own words. Excellent work, Operative Twelve, His Majesty is impressed. One day, no-one will ever know that such cattle as the Gerudo ever existed, but for now our work must continue. With someone else, I’m afraid, you’re being reassigned.” The Spymaster shuffled his papers.
“…Reassigned, sir?” It had taken Faiza years to build her cover out in the provinces. A sudden reassignment rarely boded well. Generally, it was a euphemism for forced retirement.
“There’s no need to get worked up, Operative. It’s by personal request of His Majesty. We need eyes and ears in the growing Other population down in the city slums, someone with skills and a good demonstration of their ability to prevent a rebellion through surgical strikes. Someone like you. Congratulations on your promotion, Operative Twelve.”
For a moment Faiza was speechless. An assignment directly from the Emperor himself? It was a tremendous honor, signs that she was moving up in the Sheikah underworld. She bowed low, still processing the change of circumstances. “It would be my honor to serve His Majesty and Our Glorious Empire in this way,” she replied politely.
“I knew you would say that. We’re still working on your new cover and the details of the assignment. For now, I suggest you take a trip down to your new home and start scouting. Do not make contact; simply observe and get to know the area. Return tomorrow at midnight for your supplies. And one more thing, Operative."
"Yes, Master?"
"There is going to be a cleansing tonight at midnight, which is why we cannot get your supplies to you so soon. I do hope you will demonstrate your loyalty to Our Glorious Empire with your assistance in this matter. Dismissed!”
Faiza bowed again and backed out of the room. The large doors thudded closed before her face, leaving her to contemplate her sudden windfall as she applied a glamour to hide her red eyes and markings. Then she made her way to the slums in traditional Gerudo dress, looking every bit a wide-eyed new immigrant seeing a large city for the first time, observing and waiting for the night's event.
