The first rule of diplomacy, Lord Malachai had discovered, was that everyone wanted to be heard.
The second was that nobody particularly wanted to listen.
The third, apparently, was that providing refreshments did not prevent people from threatening one another.
"Absolutely not," Mara said.
Malachai looked up from the conference table.
"I haven't suggested anything yet."
"You were about to suggest providing alcohol."
"Only a little."
"My Lord, the last time we provided alcohol during negotiations, two villain organizations declared war over a bottle of expensive whiskey."
"That was a misunderstanding."
"One of them attempted to annex the buffet."
"A regrettable misunderstanding."
Mara placed a tablet before him.
"Today's refreshments will consist of coffee, tea, water, and pastries."
Malachai examined the list.
"No alcohol?"
"No."
"Poison?"
"Also no."
"You're taking all the fun out of diplomacy."
"That is generally considered a desirable outcome."
Malachai sighed.
Outside the conference room, District Nine's administrative headquarters was experiencing something rarely seen in its history.
A traffic jam caused entirely by people claiming to represent justice.
Guild heroes occupied the eastern corridor. Justicars stood near the northern entrance, their white-and-gold armor polished to an almost accusatory shine. Dark Paladins had gathered opposite them, their blackened armor and grim expressions suggesting that someone had scheduled an execution and neglected to provide the condemned.
Between them stood a considerably larger number of Guild personnel.
Not because the Guild wanted a fight.
Quite the opposite.
Director Ilyra Chen had issued explicit instructions that morning.
Nobody was to start a fight.
Nobody was to finish an argument with a sword.
And under absolutely no circumstances were the Justicars and Dark Paladins to be allowed to turn District Nine into the site of a holy civil war.
Unfortunately, both factions considered those instructions deeply insulting.
"You're treating us like criminals," a Justicar complained.
The Guild captain standing before him looked exhausted.
"You tried to arrest three of my officers."
"They obstructed a lawful investigation."
"You attempted to confiscate their weapons."
"Evidence preservation."
"You called them accessories to murder!"
The Justicar considered this.
"Potential accessories."
The captain stared at him.
"That is not better."
Twenty feet away, a Dark Paladin was having an equally productive conversation.
"Move."
"No."
"Move."
"No."
"I have no quarrel with you."
"Wonderful. Then stop trying to walk through me."
The Paladin looked at the six heroes standing shoulder to shoulder.
"You cannot hold us here forever."
One hero glanced at the others.
"Probably not."
"Then why persist?"
"Because we'd rather spend our afternoon standing in a hallway than attending your funerals."
The Paladin's expression darkened.
"We are not afraid to die."
"Yes," the hero replied wearily. "We've noticed."
Inside the conference room, Malachai watched the security footage.
"Your people seem busy," he remarked.
Director Chen, seated opposite him, did not smile.
"My people spent the entire night preventing two factions of supposed defenders of justice from killing each other."
"Technically," Malachai replied, "they haven't killed each other yet."
"That is not the reassuring observation you think it is."
"Would you prefer I compliment their restraint?"
"I would prefer you not encourage them."
Malachai considered that.
"Fair."
Chen rubbed her forehead.
"We have more heroes assigned to restraining the Justicars and Dark Paladins than we currently have investigating Bastion."
"An unfortunate allocation of resources."
"An unsustainable one."
That caught Malachai's attention.
Chen continued.
"Every time one faction attempts an unauthorized arrest, the other accuses us of favoritism. Every time we stop a Dark Paladin from executing someone, the Justicars demand jurisdiction. And every time we restrain a Justicar, the Dark Paladins accuse us of protecting corrupt institutions."
"How exhausting."
"You have no idea."
"My dear Director, I run an organization of professional criminals."
"Your criminals have an employee handbook."
"Several, actually."
"That's my point."
Before Malachai could answer, the doors opened.
Seraph entered first.
Her armor bore fresh scratches, and her expression suggested she had already exhausted her patience before breakfast.
The First Fallen followed.
Behind him came two Dark Paladins.
Behind them came four Guild heroes.
Malachai raised an eyebrow.
"Are the escorts necessary?"
Chen answered immediately.
"Yes."
The First Fallen looked at her.
"We are not prisoners."
"No," Chen replied. "Prisoners are generally easier to supervise."
Seraph almost smiled.
Almost.
Malachai gestured toward the seats.
"Please. Sit."
Nobody moved.
He sighed.
"Must we begin with a territorial dispute over the furniture?"
The First Fallen took a seat.
Seraph sat opposite him.
The Guild escorts remained standing.
Malachai smiled.
"Excellent. Civilization survives another morning."
Mara activated the conference display.
A photograph appeared.
Lord Varrick.
Beneath it were records of the settlement massacre, financial transactions, witness testimony, and the newly recovered Guild documents.
"The investigation has established several preliminary findings," Mara announced. "First, Lord Varrick commanded the forces responsible for the destruction of the settlement. Second, substantial evidence indicates the attack was deliberate. Third, certain Guild officials subsequently concealed information about the operation."
The First Fallen leaned forward.
"Then why is he still breathing?"
Chen's expression tightened.
"Because an investigation is not the same as a completed judgment."
"Tell that to the dead."
Seraph spoke before Chen could answer.
"Evidence must be authenticated. Witnesses must be heard. Responsibility must be established individually."
The First Fallen turned toward her.
"And how many witnesses must die before you consider the evidence sufficient?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Do not mistake procedure for mercy."
"I remember when you said that about the first tribunal."
The room became quiet.
Seraph's expression changed.
"That was different."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
"Because the accused was someone you trusted?"
One of the Guild escorts shifted uneasily.
Chen intervened.
"Enough. We're not reopening your personal history."
The First Fallen looked toward her.
"How convenient."
Malachai tapped the table.
"Before we begin discussing everyone's most traumatic memories, perhaps we might establish the immediate question."
He gestured toward Varrick's photograph.
"What happens to him?"
"Execution," the First Fallen replied.
"Judgment followed by punishment appropriate to the evidence," Seraph answered.
"Transfer to an independent tribunal," Chen said.
Malachai nodded.
"Three answers. How efficient."
All three looked at him.
"And yours?" Seraph asked.
"Custody pending a hearing under District Nine law."
The First Fallen laughed without humor.
"Of course."
Malachai looked at him.
"Something amusing?"
"You call yourself a villain, yet you hide behind paperwork."
Malachai smiled.
"My friend, paperwork is one of civilization's most effective instruments of cruelty."
Mara nodded approvingly.
"Especially tax documentation."
Nobody laughed.
Malachai sighed.
"A difficult audience."
The First Fallen stood.
"Varrick murdered thousands. He has now injured one of your own people. What more must he do before you stop treating him like a guest?"
Malachai's smile disappeared.
"He is not a guest."
"Then act like it."
The room grew colder.
Not physically.
Not yet.
Malachai folded his hands.
"Sit down."
The First Fallen remained standing.
For a moment, the two regarded one another.
The First Fallen knew precisely what Malachai was capable of.
He had seen the aftermath of the Dark Lord's battles. He understood the difference between fighting a powerful enemy and fighting something that could erase the battlefield itself.
But fear had never been the foundation of his convictions.
"If I believed you were protecting Varrick," he said quietly, "I would oppose you regardless of the consequences."
Malachai nodded.
"I believe you."
"Then understand me."
"I do."
The First Fallen's expression hardened.
"Good."
Malachai leaned forward.
"Now sit down before you turn a discussion about justice into a contest of stubbornness. I assure you, I have considerably more experience."
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Seraph spoke.
"Sit."
The First Fallen turned toward her.
"Don't order me."
"Then stop behaving as though standing makes your argument stronger."
He stared.
She stared back.
Finally, he sat.
Malachai looked delighted.
"Wonderful. Perhaps we should arrange these meetings more often."
Chen closed her eyes.
"Please don't."
The conference continued for another forty minutes before the first genuine disaster arrived.
It came in the form of a young woman.
She was escorted into the room by a District Nine security officer, her left arm wrapped in a medical brace.
Mara introduced her as Lieutenant Tessa Ward.
The guard Varrick had shot.
Malachai stood immediately.
"Lieutenant. You should be resting."
"I requested permission to attend, my Lord."
"Granted, obviously. But your physician will be furious."
"Already is."
"Excellent. You're learning."
A faint smile crossed her face.
Then she looked toward Varrick's photograph.
It vanished.
"I heard you're discussing what happens to him."
Chen nodded.
"We are."
Ward looked around the table.
"I don't care which organization gets him."
The First Fallen watched her closely.
"I care that he doesn't get another chance."
Silence.
"He shot me because I told him to stop. There were families behind me. Children."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"I thought I was going to die."
Malachai's expression softened.
Ward looked directly at him.
"My Lord, I trust you."
He said nothing.
"But I need to know something."
"Ask."
"If he hadn't shot one of your people, would you still be taking this seriously?"
The question struck harder than anyone expected.
Malachai did not answer immediately.
He could have offered reassurance.
He could have delivered a speech.
He could have reminded everyone that he had sheltered thousands and protected civilians from armies.
Instead, he considered the question.
Then he answered.
"I would like to believe so."
Ward stared at him.
"That's not an answer."
"No," Malachai agreed. "It's an admission."
The room fell silent.
"I am protective of my people," he continued. "Sometimes excessively. I will not pretend that your injury did not make this matter more personal."
Ward lowered her gaze.
"But that is precisely why I will not decide his sentence while angry."
The First Fallen scoffed.
"Anger doesn't invalidate justice."
"No," Malachai replied. "But it can make vengeance feel remarkably similar."
Ward studied him for several seconds.
Then nodded.
"I don't want him tortured."
The First Fallen looked surprised.
"I don't want him comfortable either," she added.
Mara made a note.
"Both preferences are compatible with our detention regulations."
That earned a small laugh from Ward.
Malachai smiled.
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
She saluted.
Then left.
The room remained quiet after her departure.
Seraph was the first to speak.
"She deserves an answer."
"She'll receive one," Malachai replied.
"And if your investigation confirms everything?"
"Then Varrick will discover that District Nine's justice system is considerably less forgiving than its hospitality department."
Chen looked at him.
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't intended to be."
Before anyone could continue, Chen's communicator chimed.
She glanced down.
Her expression changed.
"Excuse me."
She answered.
"Report."
A voice spoke rapidly.
Chen stood.
"How many?"
Another pause.
"Do not engage unless necessary. I'm coming."
Malachai raised an eyebrow.
"Trouble?"
Chen looked at Seraph and the First Fallen.
"Your people."
Neither appeared surprised.
The disturbance had begun in the residential wing.
A Dark Paladin patrol had discovered a former mercenary captain who had served under Varrick.
The man had been living among the refugees under an assumed name.
The Dark Paladins had identified him through Bastion's leaked records.
They attempted to seize him.
A Justicar patrol intervened, demanding that the suspect be formally examined before punishment.
The Dark Paladins refused.
The Justicars attempted to take custody themselves.
Then the Guild arrived.
By the time Malachai reached the corridor, fourteen heroes were physically separating seven Dark Paladins from five Justicars.
Two walls were damaged.
A security drone lay in pieces.
Someone had thrown a chair.
The chair had apparently lost.
"HE CONFESSED!" a Dark Paladin shouted.
"UNDER THREAT OF EXECUTION!" a Justicar answered.
"HE WAS THERE!"
"THAT DOESN'T ESTABLISH WHAT HE DID!"
A Guild hero stood between them with both arms outstretched.
"CAN EVERYONE PLEASE STOP CONFESSING TO CRIMES AND THREATENING EXECUTIONS FOR FIVE MINUTES?"
Nobody listened.
The mercenary captain sat against the wall, bleeding from the nose.
He looked terrified.
Malachai approached.
"What happened?"
A Guild captain turned.
"My Lord, the Dark Paladins tried to execute a suspect. The Justicars tried to arrest the Dark Paladins. We tried to stop both."
"And?"
"One of them threw a chair."
Malachai examined the wreckage.
"An understandable escalation."
Chen glared at him.
"Don't encourage them."
"Apologies."
The First Fallen stepped forward.
"Release the suspect to us."
Seraph immediately objected.
"He belongs in lawful custody."
"Your lawful custody has failed repeatedly."
"And your alternative is summary execution!"
"If guilt is clear, why delay?"
"Because guilt is not established by whoever shouts loudest!"
The First Fallen turned sharply.
"Your people were prepared to execute him too!"
"After investigation!"
"An investigation conducted by whom? The same institutions that buried Varrick's crimes?"
That struck home.
Seraph's jaw tightened.
The Guild captain stepped between them.
"Enough."
Neither looked at him.
"ENOUGH!"
This time, they did.
The captain was an ordinary hero by the standards of the people surrounding him.
He possessed enhanced strength, limited durability, and a shield that had already been cracked twice during Bastion's attack.
He was not capable of defeating Seraph.
He was certainly not capable of defeating the First Fallen.
But behind him stood twenty-seven other Guild heroes.
And more were arriving.
"You two want to settle your philosophical differences?" he demanded. "Fine. Schedule a debate. Write a book. Start a podcast. I don't care."
A Dark Paladin bristled.
"Watch your tone."
"No."
The captain pointed toward the residential doors.
"There are families sleeping thirty feet away. Some of them lost their homes yesterday. Some lost people they loved. They came here because we promised to protect them."
He looked at Seraph.
"Your people made that promise."
Then at the First Fallen.
"So did yours."
His voice grew harsher.
"And now we're spending more time stopping you from killing each other than protecting the people who actually need us."
Silence.
One of the Dark Paladins attempted to move forward.
Three Guild heroes immediately blocked him.
He shoved one aside.
Another caught his arm.
The Paladin's armor began glowing.
"Stand aside."
The Guild captain did not move.
"No."
The glow intensified.
Then a second Dark Paladin activated his weapon.
A Justicar answered by raising a radiant shield.
More Guild heroes stepped between them.
The corridor filled with energy.
Malachai watched.
He could end the confrontation instantly.
Everyone knew it.
But he was curious.
Not about whether the Guild could defeat the extremists.
It couldn't, at least not without enormous casualties.
He was curious about how far the supposed defenders of justice would go before recognizing what they were becoming.
The answer arrived when a small voice spoke from behind the security barrier.
"Are they going to fight again?"
A little boy stood beside his mother.
He was holding a stuffed dragon.
The corridor went quiet.
The child looked at the armored figures.
"Yesterday they were helping us."
Nobody answered.
He hugged his toy.
"Are they bad guys now?"
The question hung in the air.
A Dark Paladin slowly lowered his weapon.
Not because he had changed his mind.
Not because he suddenly respected Guild authority.
But because the child's question had reached somewhere his anger had not yet destroyed.
The Justicar opposite him lowered her shield.
Seraph looked away.
The First Fallen remained silent.
Malachai stepped forward.
"No," he told the boy gently.
The child looked at him.
"They're not bad guys?"
Malachai considered his answer.
"They're people who believe very strongly that they're doing the right thing."
"Then why are they fighting?"
Malachai smiled faintly.
"Because believing you're right doesn't automatically make you wise."
The boy thought about that.
Then nodded solemnly.
"My mom says that about my dad."
A few heroes laughed.
Malachai glanced toward the mother.
She looked embarrassed.
"A remarkably sensible woman."
He turned toward the assembled factions.
"Now."
His smile vanished.
"Everyone will lower their weapons."
Nobody argued.
"That man will be placed in District Nine custody. His identity and actions will be investigated. Anyone possessing evidence will submit it to Mara."
The First Fallen opened his mouth.
Malachai raised one finger.
"And before anyone tells me this isn't over, I am painfully aware."
The First Fallen closed his mouth.
Malachai nodded.
"Excellent."
He looked toward the Guild captain.
"Your people have my thanks."
The captain exhaled.
"We're just trying to keep everyone alive."
"A noble ambition."
"An exhausting one."
"Also true."
The immediate confrontation ended.
But the resentment did not.
The Dark Paladins believed the Guild had protected another criminal.
The Justicars believed the Guild had obstructed necessary action.
And the Guild believed both factions were rapidly becoming more dangerous than the enemies they had originally united to fight.
By late afternoon, Chen had received twenty-three formal complaints.
Mara had received forty-one.
Malachai had received one handwritten letter from a retired villain requesting that everyone involved be assigned mandatory anger-management classes.
He considered it the most sensible proposal of the day.
Unfortunately, Bastion was not finished.
The message arrived shortly before dinner.
No dramatic broadcast.
No threatening announcement.
Just a single encrypted file delivered simultaneously to the Guild, Justicars, Dark Paladins, and District Nine.
Its contents were brief.
PROJECT BASTION — PHASE III
MORAL CONTRADICTION PROTOCOL
OBSERVATION: SUBJECTS CONTINUE TO PRIORITIZE GROUP COHESION OVER INDIVIDUAL IDEOLOGICAL CONSISTENCY.
RECOMMENDED ADJUSTMENT: FORCE DIRECT CHOICE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND LOYALTY.
Beneath the text appeared a photograph.
Not Varrick.
Not the mercenary captain.
A Guild hero.
A decorated veteran.
Someone who had helped evacuate civilians during yesterday's attack.
Someone who had carried wounded Dark Paladins to safety.
Someone whose name appeared on the newly recovered records as an official involved in concealing Varrick's crimes.
Chen stared at the photograph.
"No."
Malachai looked at her.
"You know him?"
Her expression was grim.
"Everyone knows him."
Seraph leaned closer.
The First Fallen's eyes narrowed.
The photograph showed Commander Elias Rourke.
A veteran hero with thirty years of service.
A man who had trained dozens of younger heroes.
A man who had personally rescued children from the burning shelter less than twenty-four hours earlier.
And according to Bastion's evidence, a man who had knowingly signed the order suppressing the investigation into Varrick's massacre.
The First Fallen spoke first.
"Arrest him."
Seraph nodded.
"Immediately."
Chen remained silent.
Malachai watched her.
"Director?"
Chen closed her eyes.
"He's one of my oldest friends."
The First Fallen's expression hardened.
"Then this should be simple."
Chen looked at him.
"No."
The word was quiet.
But it carried considerable weight.
"It's not simple."
Seraph's gaze sharpened.
"If the evidence is genuine, he must answer for it."
"I know."
"Then act."
Chen looked at the photograph.
"He saved forty-seven civilians yesterday."
The First Fallen answered coldly.
"And how many died because of what he concealed?"
Nobody spoke.
Malachai studied the document.
Then looked toward Mara.
"Verify the evidence."
"Already underway, my Lord."
"Locate Commander Rourke."
"Security is doing so now."
"Discreetly."
Chen looked up.
"Malachai—"
He raised one hand.
"Director, I have no intention of allowing another public execution attempt in my corridors."
The First Fallen stepped forward.
"Nor will we permit another cover-up."
Malachai turned toward him.
"Then I suggest you remain close enough to observe, but far enough away to avoid making yourself a problem."
Seraph spoke.
"If Rourke is guilty, he must face judgment."
"He will."
Chen looked between them.
"And if the evidence is incomplete?"
"Then we establish what actually happened," Malachai replied.
The First Fallen's expression darkened.
"And if he flees?"
Malachai smiled.
"Then he will discover that District Nine is a very difficult place to escape."
Mara's tablet chimed.
She glanced down.
Then went still.
"My Lord."
Malachai looked at her.
"What is it?"
"Commander Rourke has been located."
"Excellent."
"He's in the western medical wing."
Chen frowned.
"Why?"
Mara hesitated.
"He's visiting the wounded."
The room fell silent.
Then another notification appeared.
Mara's expression changed again.
"My Lord..."
Malachai sighed.
"Please don't tell me."
"Several Dark Paladins have also received his location."
The First Fallen looked toward the door.
Seraph immediately stepped into his path.
"Don't."
He stared at her.
"Move."
"No."
"Seraph."
"Not again."
He took another step.
She did not retreat.
Chen activated her communicator.
"All Guild units, western medical wing. Defensive containment. No lethal engagement unless absolutely necessary."
Malachai slowly stood.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Well," he said pleasantly.
"Apparently, we're doing this again."
And somewhere beneath District Nine, the Architect watched the surveillance feeds.
The elderly figure studied the movements of the Guild heroes, the Justicars, and the Dark Paladins.
The numbers on the screen began changing.
FACTIONAL TRUST: DECLINING
INTERNAL CONFLICT PROBABILITY: INCREASING
MORAL CONTRADICTION PROTOCOL: EFFECTIVE
The Architect smiled faintly.
"Now," the figure murmured, "let us see whether they still believe justice and loyalty are compatible."
Back in District Nine, Malachai stepped into the corridor.
His communicator chimed.
"Hey, Mal!"
He stopped.
Closed his eyes.
And answered.
"Hex."
"Quick question!"
"What?"
"How do you feel about genetically enhanced carnivorous plants?"
Malachai stared at the ceiling.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he answered.
"Hex."
"Yeah, buddy?"
"If you create another supremacist organism, I am cutting your research budget."
A horrified gasp came through the communicator.
"Malachai! That's scientific censorship!"
Malachai ended the call.
Then continued walking toward what promised to be yet another thoroughly unpleasant confrontation over justice.
He had once imagined that ruling a nation would involve magnificent ceremonies, international diplomacy, and the occasional declaration of war.
Instead, he spent most of his time preventing supposedly good people from murdering each other.
And somehow, the villains were beginning to look like the easier employees to manage.