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“Ah, Miss Sedene!” Flagging the Melusine down as the young Gestionnaire waved a few papers in the air, hoping to catch her before she entered the Iudex’s Office.
“Sorry, Monsieur Neuvillette will not be taking any unscheduled meetings today.” She replies curtly.
“Wait–” Ah. The door shuts with a non-arguable thud. Shit. Another day with these papers going unsigned. Another day of failure. Ever since the Hydro Archon—Lady Furina, ever since she…abdicated, the Chief Justice has been completely swamped. And really, considering everything, this document isn’t that important. It’s not and still…and still with the stupid procedures and never-ending paperwork, none of this can be accomplished without the signature of one Monsieur Neuvillette.
Really, the whole system is fucked. It would be amazing if one of these fucking—ah, calm. Calm the mind, reel in the frustration, and try again tomorrow.
“That is all we can do, as nameless Gestionnaires.” A hand reaches down to pat the head of the young Gestionnaire from an older colleague.
That was a long time ago when things were…well certainly not easier. More bearable perhaps. “Miss Sedene please!” The young worker pleads with the Melusine behind the desk, the Chief Justice’s secretary. A ferocious lady she is.
“Monsieur Neuvillette’s schedule is full for the day, please try another time. Perhaps try scheduling something in the next few months? Otherwise, it will be completely dependent on his workload for the day.” Sedene explains again, as she has for the past few days.
With gestures of the hands, to a pleading look on the face, Miss Sedene is utterly unmoved, “I understand that, truly, I know he is a busy man, but I need these documents signed, it’s very—”
“Important? Yes, as are most things that come across his desk. Now please, there are people waiting.” A glance behind shows two— special —individuals.
The young Gestionnaire simply sighs, “Thank you anyway, Miss Sedene.” Returning to the desk that awaits their return, piles of paperwork require sorting and documentation. Watching in palpable frustration as those two guests were most promptly let into the Chief Justice’s office. “Perhaps I should return to my hometown, maybe farm my parent’s lands, fish in the rivers, Archons, maybe I’ll just dig holes. I don’t know.” The bemoaning cannot last long, after all, there is always more paperwork to be looked through, sorted, documented, and stamped.
“That’s a nice fantasy you got there.” Semaine snorts.
And so the day goes on, with nothing to tell for it. Mindless pencil pushing. A glimpse of the Chief Justice! Please for the Hydro Arch—ah a new saying is in order. Anyway, for the love of all that is good, catch him in time! “Monsieur–”
“Oh you.” Gattineo snaps his fingers, and he’s already blabbing on about something or the other. That glimpse of blue and white disappears.
“Fuck!” The curse is uttered out of the blue, a deep sigh accompanying it as their hand is dragged down their face.
Gattineo, the young Gestionnaire’s superior raises an eyebrow and Semaine chuckles under his breath. “Professionalism is of the utmost importance! I will not tolerate such vulgar usage of language in these halls!” Oh, the man lectures for what feels like hours.
Bear it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow must be better. It just has to be.
Nothing can be that easy. This is the Palais Mermonia, and within that bureaucratic mess, it is the Maison Gestion. Dark circles form, and nights become sleepless, leaning back in their chair. The familiar cream walls, the cerulean blue rug, the nice coffee color of the wooden furniture…coffee, yes coffee would be nice. Maybe telling Aroute of the troubles that continue to pile up will help lighten the load…
“Alright people, we’ve got the new documents from both Meropide and the Cardinalice, let’s get to work!” Oh damn you, you rotten—
Patience. Calm. Reel in the frustration—“Hello Miss Sedene! Is Monsieur Neuvillette busy?” Yes. Yes, he is. Miss Sedene, please, for once—“He is always welcome to your company.”
Goddammit!
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Oh, for the chance to be half as important as that outlander and that fairy. The unsigned document lays perfectly in place on their desk, mocking the Gestionnaire.
“Is it just Paimon, or did one of those workers seem to be glaring daggers at us?” Paimon tilts her head, and the Traveller just shrugs.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
It’s only one day later when finally, finally, fucking finally , that Monsieur Neuvillette has enough time for a quick five-minute meeting. The young bureaucrat enters the room in a hurry, documents practically extended for a signature. A quick ‘hello’ was exchanged as a greeting, “Monsieur Neuvillette, this document for increased funding for the maintenance and upkeep of the social programs for the wards of convicted criminals sentenced to Meropide requires your signature. The Maison Cardinalice tasked me with this since document management resides within the duties of the Gestion. Now if you would be so gracious as to sign this—”
He holds up a hand, as he reads over the documents, “These figures…are they the most recent from the Cardinalice?” As he hands back the document, a quick scan shows that a few of the figures have not been updated and there are a few that must have escaped notice after the recent submissions from the Maison Cardinalice.
“Ah, I seem to have forgotten to update a few of these numbers…”
“A quick fix, I’m sure.” The man smiles, an attempt at coming off as reassuring and comforting. It does not come across as intended.
A deep breath, take a deep breath, don’t say anything, don’t do anything, just— “I quit.” With a drop of the paper on his desk, and a placement of the ID card that marks a Gestionnaire. Marching out of the room, leaving behind an incredibly confused Chief Justice. The door is shut quietly, and a smile is plastered on the face of the now ex-Gestionnaire. Ha. They laugh slightly as they lean against the door.
“Miss Sedene, do you have resignation papers printed out?” A quick question to a confused Sedene.
She replies with, “Well, I believe the form recently changed so I haven’t gotten the updated form yet—”
A kind smile, “Ah is that so, then I suppose a verbal resignation must suffice for now. I quit.” A wave goodbye at a surprised Sedene. Rifling through personal belongings, of which there are few, Semaine just laughs.
“You can’t be serious. Come, sit back down, let me treat you to some coffee.” Semaine rolls his eyes.
“Nope, I’m done. I’m serious this time, I cannot spend another moment in this hell. I cannot—” their breath hitches suddenly, “I absolutely cannot do this for a moment longer.”
Semaine’s expression turns serious, “No seriously, we’re absolutely drowning! You can’t just, quit! It’s customary to at least give two weeks' notice.”
Slightly shining, exhausted eyes meet his, “Well, here’s your… two seconds notice, I quit.” They heave a bag on their shoulder, containing the few possessions they had at their station, and wave him off.
The Chief Justice took a moment to fully understand what had just happened, that a young member of the Gestionnaire, who in all honesty worked for him under the new hierarchy, just announced they were quitting to his face after he corrected a mistake in their documentation, and had left the room with a smile, that even he could tell was masking their true emotions.
As he had processed this, he finally stood up, and walked out of his office, just in time to see the young Gestionnaire wave their colleague off, Sedene having stepped out from behind her desk.
That young bureaucrat, whose name wasn’t even known to most, left without another word. Only glimpsing the golden hair of a strange outlander out of the corner of their eye. Whose name was never called in this world either. They stop, for just a moment, before calling out, “Hey Traveler!” Though they know it’s not his fault, they grin anyways, because being vindictive feels good every once and a while, “Fuck you!” And then they give a wave as they leave. Even if the Gestion had wanted them back, they sure as hell wouldn’t after this.
In all honesty, the next few days are spent running around, preparing to leave the Court of Fontaine altogether while dodging the Gardes, former colleagues, and other similarly concerned individuals. Honestly, that place was just the worst, year after year, spent half killing themselves over what? Documents and stamps. That place would never change, and any bureaucrat would know what! Even if it meant digging holes, going home was not such a bad idea. At the very least they’d get to spend time with their aging parents. Jobless or not, what did it matter? Anything is better than going back to that hellscape, where nothing ever changed.
Only after nearly a week passed, would that ex-Gestionnaire walk into the Palais Mermonia, head held high. Passing by the desks of former colleagues, they would see Miss Sedene, who kept her professionalism remarkably well, asking them where they had been and how they were doing. The outburst had been chalked up to a mental breakdown, Sedene says, “I am glad to see you back in the office, both Monsieur Gattineo and Monsieur Neuvillette are willing to reinstate you with a short probationary period, a formal complaint on your record and—”
“That is quite unnecessary.” The former employee gave a small laugh, “I simply came to inquire about whether or not you had the resignation forms printed out.”
Miss Sedene nods, “Of course, I have them right here. Thought I must ask if you are truly deciding to resign.”
They don’t even hesitate. “Most certainly.” This paperwork is surprisingly fast and easy. Probably because it’s the ones who will process it who will suffer the most. Unsurprisingly, the Gardes seem like they are on high alert, they probably think that an unstable and emotionally volatile person has stepped foot into the Palais Mermonia. With the last signature on the paper, a glance at Sedene shows that she is undoubtedly curious about what happened. “Ah, Miss Sedene, please give this to the Chief Justice at your earliest convenience.”
The letter Neuvillette receives upon his desk is signed in neat handwriting. He skims it once, then goes back to read it a second time.
Monsieur Neuvillette,
It has been my honor to serve Fontaine with my meager capabilities alongside such a virtuous individual as yourself. Though I regret to inform you of my resignation, I have come to the realization that while my work is neither pointless nor completely without value, it lacks reason and purpose within my own life….
The rest of the first paragraph is negligible. Though Neuvilette reads it all the same, what catches his attention is the start of the second paragraph.
However, I must say, with my own experience backing my accusation, that perhaps it would serve you well to recognize that your actions, regardless of intent, have a profound impact on the culture and mentality of the workers under your care. I intend not to attack your inclinations, nor your status as an individual apart from your duty as Fontaine’s Chief Justice.
The Iudex can hardly believe what he is reading, someone whose name he has only read on the documents he reads through day by day, and has hardly interacted with is saying such things.
We, as public servants of Fontaine, are often scrutinized for our thankless work, and the nature of bureaucracy is the invocation of frustration upon those within its system. So seeing your close friends bypass the strict procedures within the system of the Palais Mermonia, truly spreads the despair and hopelessness we feel, day by day until we cannot bear it any longer.
Is aghast an adequate word for the emotion he feels? Perhaps stunned is a better word. There is a certain level of audacity present in their words. Yet he cannot fault them for their fallacies and indignation.
.... In writing this, I have only sought to clear my name and point out exceedingly human flaws in the conduct perpetrated by the Iudex. Please forgive me if I have brought offense to you, as that was hardly my intention...
The letter goes on for another paragraph or so. It lists occasions of dissatisfaction from the writer. What was this last line?
Sincerely, A Nameless Bureaucrat