Glenn

Aisa Moira had lived a long life, longer than most other people and faunus in fact. And, perhaps, even longer than she was supposed to.

She's seen a lot in her life. She had lived through the most destructive war in the history of mankind, and then seen the uprising of the faunus that shortly fooled it. To see the fall of Mantle and the rise of Atlas, the creation of Menagerie and the subsequent organization of the White Fang, the creation of Mount Glenn, and the rise and fall of Bor…

She really has to hand it to the dead Bor, he was so annoying that she regarded his death as something so momentous.

She still remembered the days when she could be considered 'young', how long ago was that? She remembered the time she had first enlisted in the army of Vale as a recruit, and how over the past decades, she was able to rise from the ranks of private to captain… But never higher. How many years, no decades, had she spent as a captain? Higher ranks, be they generals or even just advisers, have always been too tightly tied to politics, and perhaps only second to its entanglements as a position in management.

If she had wanted to, she didn't doubt that she could become a General. And then, perhaps, wheel that position into a Counselor of Vale, finally throw off the yoke of discipline and chains of command and enter politics… Hah!

What person, in their right mind, would even want to get into the piss-painted pile of shit called 'politics'?

Almost as soon as even a hint of her being pushed upward appeared, Aisa fled with her students to Mount Glenn to escape. After all, she liked to be involved in something meaningful, such as organizing military supplies, building fortifications, training recruits, this was a much more fulfilling life for her than any other occupation.

And yet, near the end of her life, she found herself neck deep in that hated mire called politics.

As she was about to meet death from old age at her post, she did not suspect that she would spend the last years of her life in this situation. Not commanding a set of mindless officers and their peons, not even in battle against the advancing horde of Grimm, but… damn it, playing politics.

But what other choice did she have? Aisa complained to herself as she took a drag on her cigarette, grinning weakly.

Still as much as she likes to complain about it, but at least now, having risen so highly in political circles, there was no one above her who could forbid her to smoke in the office. Not that she would care if anyone were to forbid it in the first place. Still, now that she makes the rules here, and the laws, if they want to send complaints, they can send them straight to the fire!

Hah, although, one must admit, in a sense, Aisa even liked being a politician — at least in the current environment where she doesn't actually have to play politics. But still, during those first months, he had to be stopped from blowing her brains out at the prospect of holding the position. The conditions of the newly founded Kingdom of Glenn forced her to curse herself and her decision to shoulder this burden on her shoulders. But, who else could be trusted?

Jonathan himself was well aware that he was not ready for ruling. Speeches and public speaking? Diplomatic missions and kiddie stories? Sometimes conducting interesting personal projects and advice? Yes, he was good at it. He was quite charismatic and far from being stupid, but he was not a politician.

Which is a compliment in Aisa's opinion.

Politics, ha! If everything in the world could be resolved with a simple conversation, Jonathan, perhaps, could become the king of the whole world.

But there were too many problems in the world for which simple negotiations were not enough.

Looting and banditry in the first months? Yes, Jonathan could publicly condemn them as much as he wanted, call for justice, even sometimes conduct public raids. But only Aisa understood that, for the most part, democratic methods worked too poorly against the brutal rabble of criminals.

Shooting to kill without warning, on the other hand? Worked flawlessly.

And, as soon as she introduced capital punishment for high treason, and no one would gainsay her that banditry could not be considered anything else. Especially in the circumstances of a crisis, the number of gangs began to decline at a record pace.

Aisa breathed in another drag of smoke, slowly shifting her gaze from the door to her office to the shelves of a nearby cabinet, at the medals and awards laid out in a conspicuous place.

What a vulgarity.

Now that Aisa herself could establish both the awards itself and reward them to herself, the whole collection of medals in her closet looked like she was trying to puff herself up. But no, all these awards were awarded to her on the initiative of Jonathan, the Council of Vale, Ghira Belladonna, and, of course, the Lower Royal Parliament.

In her own opinion, the only thing that was good for this useless offshoot of democracy.

Although, on the other hand, Aisa saw the need for such a distribution of power, not that it means that she considered it necessary. Ordinary people want to think that they are deciding something in this world, no matter what name is used, the Council or the parliament. Not that the Lower Parliament actually has any such powers.

All power in the Kingdom of Glenn belonged to the Higher Parliament, the legislative and affirmative body of power of the state, while the Lower was simply deliberative. As a result, all that people who were elected to parliament with such difficulty could do was look at new projects, and propose amendments or issue initiatives. And to be absolutely fucking legally useless, with no actual power and responsibility.

The screen of democracy that Glenn used to cover its state of dictatorship.

Although once or twice, the lower parliament did submit some interesting ideas, even some that are cost-benefit. Not that anyone would act on the idea, cause as soon as anyone says the word 'cost-saving' the first thing on the chopping block would be the Lower Parliament. Really, the amount of money the government spent on maintaining the 81 people body makes any 'advice' they put out pretty much useless.

The higher parliament, the part of the government that actually has all the powers, which consisted of Aisa, her students and their approved candidates, held it tightly, fulfilling its functions. It's also no coincidence that almost all the members of the higher Parliament were once part of the military.

Aisa dragged another puff again.

An army concerned about 'human rights' is not an army, but a bunch of soft-hearted slobbers who cannot obey orders. The job of the army is to fulfill their assigned tasks, and it is the diplomats' job to prove that they have completed them in compliance with all the nonsense like 'laws'.

The first thing they did in writing the new constitution, Aisa ensured the withdrawal of the police, the army and the Reconnaissance-Assisted Tactical Service from under the authority of politicians, not only the current one, but also subsequent ones. They were now reporting directly to her, and, in the event of her imminent death, to Jonathan.

Of course, Jonathan… Jonathan was not the best choice available to say the least, he's a bit too soft to do anything to win. But, seeing that the only other person who she could trust to take command of her main force, ahead of Jonathan, was only Cinder, she has to make do. At least when Cinder grew up, she would be the next replacement. Aisa could see that Cinder could do a good job, she has that temperament to her.

Still, Aisa knew that no matter how hard Jonathan tried, her time in Remnant was slowly coming to an end. She doesn't have the time to wait for Cinder to grow up enough to teach her all the tricks of the trade and give control of the Army to her.

It's not like Aisa was afraid of death, she didn't want to live forever after all. But, she wanted to do everything she could in this world. Still so many things to do… She still has to wrangle the economy, and its bureaucracy, never mind the politics, and to keep it as far away from the army as possible. She still has many things to do, so much spending budgets to balance, still so many sleepless nights to spend.

Aisa truly believed that she was blessed by the Brothers to never grow old, but it seems, slowly, even the Brothers' blessing would fizzle out. Once she would grin at the sight of those wondering how old she really is, it still inevitably began to climb up. Now she was mistaken not as a forty-year-old woman, but forty-five, then fifty, then fifty-five, climbing up year by year.

It was still far, far less than her real age, but Aisa understood that further along this process would only accelerate. Her body was decrepit, her time was running out.

But, there were still so many things to do…

She had managed to do a lot. She had helped rebuild Glenn's economy, reopen hospitals and schools, and even reassemble an army from the scattered remains. Oh right, she even managed to create the most efficient Secret Service in the entire Remnant. And yet, she had accomplished all that, and it was still not enough. It was always too little…

She had lost many hours of sleep over the years, had done so much, and it was still not enough.

Jonathan helped, a lot so in fact, his little 'projects' and personal attention were the reason Mount Glenn did not fall apart in the beginning, even when faced with the Schnee embargo, but that was still far from enough. His help with the medical supplies, uniforms for the army, even his damn teleportation suits, and yet it was still not enough.

Aisa just knew that it would never be enough.

Just maintaining Glenn as it is, needed countless miracles after miracles. Her constant management may have won victories in internal politics, as her army controlled the entire state. Jonathan may have performed amazing things, miraculous things, and performed them as easily as if taking them out of his pockets, and, yet, it was still not enough.

The Dust 'found' and assistance from the White Fang had allowed them to bring the economy running. The inexhaustible effort from the refugees and workers from Menagerie had closed the hole in the workforce. The official recognition from Ghira Belladonna for their state had even allowed some leeway in their foreign relations. All this was accomplished only thanks to Jonathan.

Aisa sometimes even felt that she gave Jonathan too little legal power — although it could not be said that she gave him little power in reality. Aisa was still the power behind the throne.

And she was dying.

Jonathan was legally stronger than the lower parliament, he also had the power to make laws, although limited as he had to get approval from at least half of the higher parliament to make it happen. He also has extensive diplomatic powers that he had wrangled to win the Kingdom of Glenn, a source of dust from the White Fang. He also had a personal entourage complete with security detachments and complete access and running of the hospitals, the funding of which was allocated by the higher parliament, who try not to offend Jonathan with excessive greed.

But it was still not enough.

Jonathan's authority still depended on the shoulders of the higher parliament, leaving Aisa as the actual power behind the throne. And although Aisa was careful in her role as the ruler carefully controlling Glenn's internal politics, in the event of her death…

The kingdom had not withstood so many crises, only for it to collapse from a crisis from the inheritance of power. It couldn't, not after what they went through to make all the way here…

Did this mean that Aisa needed an heir? At her age? Hah! Could Jonathan then be trusted to take over the reins?

Aisa inhaled the cigarette smoke one last time, extinguishing the cigarette butt, before bending over in a fit of coughing.

How apropos. She was contemplating her death, and here is the proof that it was coming.

Each of her coughing fits was longer than the previous one, and every single day they became more frequent… How long will it take before the vaunted 'Iron Captain' finally croaks?

Ten years? Five? One year?

Aisa spat out sticky pink saliva before looking up the ceiling.

She needed the lists of Bor's accomplices; she had to find the threats looming over the Kingdom. Jonathan's information on that matter was very useful as they started finally expanding.

She still needed to read over the education and science budgets, the army exercise reports, the reports about the factories and the reports of how their propaganda in Mantle is turning out…

She had so much to do — and time… Time is always working against us.

***

Berry did not consider his work shameful or hard, just necessary. Like the drivers that drove the honeywagon around, he did his work with the necessary aplomb. They were not proud of their work, but without someone to clean up the shit, then soon the whole city will be drowning in shit.

"You are hereby sentenced to death by the Royal Court for the crime of treason against King Osmond the Third and the Kingdom of Glenn. The accused is found guilty of participating and complicity in actions that undermine the national state of the Kingdom. Furthermore, the accused are guilty of actions that deliberately attracted the Grimm, repeated acts of corruption and the abuse of your legal and official powers in the pursuit of personal interests and…" Berry almost yawned, as they read the legal document. "Other lesser deeds. Any last words?"

The gray-haired man with the wrinkled face kneeling in front of him did not utter a word. Berry could respect such resilience in front of their death. Usually the people who appeared in front of him began to cry and scream at this point, shrilly demanding him to reconsider their case, or make excuses.

In the first ten or twenty executions, Berry even felt sorry for them. He was worried, and anxious as he delivered each sentence…

But when you do this kind of work for three years in a row, you begin to look at your life philosophically. He was not 'killing' people, but simply 'fulfilling' their sentence.

After waiting a few more seconds just in case, Berry sighed as the man stayed silent. Determining that the condemned was not going to say anything, he finished the last parts of his sentencing. "The verdict is final and not subject to appeal. I hope that the god you believe in will be merciful to you."

Seconds later, Berry pulled the trigger and the sound of a gunshot rumbled, cutting the life of the condemned short.

Berry took a step back with practiced movement, then once again looked at the fallen body of the man and waved his hand to the gravediggers standing at a distance. "It's done, dig in."

Reacting to his words, one of the gravediggers nodded and then turned to his comrade, but Berry didn't care. He has completed his task, which means it was now time to report it, then maybe enjoy his downtime before he has to do his 'job' once again.

It was just routine, a macabre routine, a very well paid routine. The Kingdom of Glenn, on the whole, paid very well for the work of all civil servants, to ensure their loyalty perhaps? Well, for the 'rats' like him, the pay was very good indeed.

Heading in the direction opposite the exit, Berry quickly found the large mausoleum with his gaze. It was quite the magnificent building, when it was brand new, perhaps, now it just looked creepy and haunted, as to be expected from an old building in Mistral. He really has to hand it to the egg-heads in the science department, the teleportation suit he was wearing was quite the handy thing.

Even after a year of constant use, to the point that he almost felt like he had become one with his suit, he still concentrated fully each time he used it. Especially considering that he really did not want to appear several tens of meters above the ground due to a miscalculation. Poor Lenz…

With nary a sound, Berry felt the slight tingle on his spine that indicated that his teleportation was successful before opening his eyes to look around.

He was still in the Mistral Necropolis, a building which was much larger than the suit's teleportation range of five hundred meters. But now, the gravediggers were far away and Berry could afford to report on the completion of his task.

Yes, of course, he found the right people for the job. The kind of people that wouldn't ask unnecessary questions and willing to do much for money, but if Berry wanted to live longer in this business, he should not neglect a basic precaution.

With a swipe of his fingers, his plain and secured scroll blinked awake. It then asked him to enter his password, the one given by the headquarters, and one he had memorized. Next it asked for his ID, before finally it would deign to connect him to headquarters. A very private connection, a closed one that somehow doesn't even use the CCT to connect.

How does that work? He didn't know, and he's not paid to know.

Unfortunately, for all its security features, or maybe because of it, the scroll did not allow for contact with any other channel. Or for the installing of any other features, for example some games, to allow him to waste time much more easily. Then again, it is his only way to contact headquarters, so he can't complain much.

Berry quickly punched in the pre-written message before sending it along. Oh, that's right, the scroll also did not provide a call function either. And so, as he waited for the response from headquarters, he smiled.

Hooray, with his task done, it's a day off until the end of the day! Not that he could really spend that time doing anything too fun.

He, of course, could not get drunk. Not as in he 'cannot' get drunk, but more like he's not 'allowed' to. Never mind all the dangers involved in indulging in such behavior, he needs to punctually report in to the headquarters nine o'clock sharp, missing his instructions for the day. And if he is silent for too long, or misses too many 'day calls' he may be recognized as compromised or dead, a detachment will be immediately sent for him.

Hmm, 'after him'? More like after his suit, which is of much greater value to the Service than himself. And what would happen to Berry if he was discovered by such a 'group' drunk and oversleeping?

Berry shook his head at the image.

Still talking about his next assignment, he knew for sure that right now, the people from headquarters were looking for the next person in Mistral, whose murder they could not be associated with. Maybe it's even another old 'acquaintance' of Bor, they were always people to deliver their 'sentence' to.

Berry was not a particularly patriotic person, so he was not particularly worried about the issue of national honor, nor the 'cleansing' of the people who had once led Glenn to fall.

But he was paid well, the work was not demanding, and he was treated quite well by his bosses. Something which means that they deserved his loyalty completely and unconditionally.

Berry grinned, then saluted towards the unseen sky beyond the roofs of the mausoleum.

Hmm, what was it that he's supposed to say again…? Ah, that's right.

Long live the democracy of Glenn.

***

June had always considered herself a balanced, well-mannered and sensible woman, as confirmed both by her official title of Doctor of the Historical Sciences and her position as a history professor at Glenn Royal University. So it was all the more strange for her to find herself wiping blood from her broken nose with her hands, her careful manicure broken beyond disrepair.

Still, the girl in front of her looked even worse. The swelling in her eye already colored blue, while her hair was tousled all around in a clump. She also sported several abrasions on her forehead, her blouse was torn to shred, barely maintaining her modesty. All things that indicated that she was the loser in the fight that had taken place.

And if it were not for the people separating them, who had pulled the two girls apart, then the list of her injuries would have been much more extensive.

"YOU'RE JUST A PSYCHOPATH! YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH!" The girl was clearly not happy with the results, trying to continue their fight.

June was also trying to break free to pummel the other girl some more, but the people holding her hands tightly made her understand that they would not be able to continue the fight.

"Are you calm now?" The voice of the man holding her hands resounded clearly, after which, after waiting for a short nod from her, she was released, immediately shaking herself off and trying to straighten her vest. With practiced ease, she fished out her mirror from one of her pockets to check herself.

Damn it, her lipstick and mascara are completely ruined! She will need to ask someone to replace her at the lessons, at least for the first half of the class, while she corrects all this problem… You may call it vanity, but beauty is an essential weapon in a woman's arsenal.

"YOU ARE ALL FUCKING MAD! FUCKING CRAZY!" The girl, however, did not stop screaming at the top of her lungs, hurling insults with each breath. Seeing such a sorry sight really diminished June's calm and made her want to complete the set.

Fortunately, before June could punch the girl's other eye, a loud knock distracted her. Looking towards the open door, June saw a police officer on the opened door.

"OFFICER!" The girl, clearly not understanding the situation she's in, instantly cheered up at the sight of the policeman, and ran towards him, wrenching herself off the men holding her. "I was just attacked!"

"Let's figure it out," The officer sighed while the girl sported a victorious smirk, then glanced at June, easily identifying who the girl was talking about. "What happened?"

At the officer's question, June only smiled. "That girl clearly confused the Kingdom of Glenn with Vale and began to preach about the advantages of the Council system."

After her simple explanation, the officer was shocked into silence. Yeah, the girl was indeed that stupid, the officer turned his gaze to the girl, who only nodded to herself to confirm her words. After that, looking around the room at the other people in the room who looked very disgusted, the officer sighed. "Well, the case was closed earlier than I imagined."

After that, the officer shifted his gaze to the girl. "Come on, let's get you to the station."

The girl blinked at the officer. "What?" June couldn't help but be delighted at her confused face.

"Miss, I understand that you immigrated here from Vale…" After which, after waiting for an uncertain nod from the girl, he sighed. "Well, weren't you asked to study the laws of Glenn before immigrating?."

"What? What kind of laws… !? Are you seriously enforcing that law!?" Apparently, having decided to dig a deeper hole for herself from shock, the girl started arguing with the police officer. "I, damn it, I only expressed my opinion! In what civilized country can this be a justifiable reason for an attack?!"

The officer, hearing such stupidity, only sighed. "In a country where their so-called 'Council' made decisions that had led to the death of a quarter of the population."

At the girl's shocked face, the officer could only shake his head before continuing on. "Come on, you will most likely be assigned up to five hundred hours of community service, after which you would probably be deported and blacklisted."

Hearing such a severe punishment, which is appropriate in June's opinion, the girl froze, "But… I… All my property, house. It's here…"

"In that case, I suppose, you should have thought about your words much better." The officer sighed, then took a step back, clearing the passage. "Come on, do not make this worse for yourself by delaying the work of the police."

Looking at how the girl, with a dejected nod, slowly moved away, June only looked at the hanging portrait of Jonathan, next to the portrait of Aisa, and smiled.

Long live the Glenn monarchy.

***

Margo quickly typed the necessary numbers on the scroll screen and smiled at the flashing face of her brother, "Hey!"

"Hey" Her brother answered her a little sluggish, before yawning. "Is it something urgent?"

"No, I just wanted to chat," Margo shrugged, "C'mon! We haven't seen each other for two weeks."

"Sorry, just a lot on my plate in the GDS," Her brother yawned again, really how sleep-deprived, is he?

"Seriously, sometimes it seems to me that the army creates work simply because it wants to load us all with more work, and not for any actual reason… So, how are you?"

"Diri was accepted into the Royal School!" Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she blurted out the happy news on her brother.

"Congratulations!" Her brother on the other end of the scroll immediately seems to liven up, "Was the result of the test that good?"

"This is the most interesting part!" Margo smiled, "She was enrolled by a direct decree!"

"By whom?" For a second, her brother's countenance was severely confused, forcing Margo to grin.

"By the king, of course, who else!?" Margo smiled, "Can you imagine it? I just accidentally ran into him in the hospital, and he then personally enrolled Diri!"

"Wow," Her brother at the other end blinked in surprise, "How… Actually, why?"

"Well… " Margo looked away, "Maybe I just accidentally told him a little…"

"About what?" Demonstrating once again why her brother's position as seller of dust, and not the manager of a GDS store, as he always dreamed, was correct. He was always so slow to catch what another person was saying!

"About the fact that we did not have time to apply for testing, of course!" Margo rolled her eyes, "And after hearing that, he arranged a personal testing for us! And Diri passed it!"

"Wow," Her brother blinked again, "Congratulations…"

"We were also given insurance!" Margo immediately continued, "At the Royal Hospital at that! Can you imagine, free medicine, and better than we can get in all of Mantle!"

Her brother was practically catatonic as Margo continued on, seemingly looking somewhere over the scroll before returning his gaze to the scroll. "Ah Margo, I'll have to cut this short, My boss is calling me, I have to go."

A second later, even before Margo could react, the link on the scroll was interrupted, causing Margo to snort. Typical, as soon as she started talking to him about anything, he ran away. Using his work as an excuse, ha…

Still, Margo didn't have time to tell him that she also was offered a job in Glenn. And not at a factory, as she did in Mantle, but as an engineer in the road service. Or about how they still managed to get their 'immigrant package', which includes both temporary visas and even cash benefits. They even managed to negotiate about an apartment! Was this possible in Mantle?! Was this possible anywhere else for a faunus family with a child?!

Only in the Kingdom of Glenn, the only state in the world created by people and for people!

Margo turned her gaze to the portrait hanging on her wall and smiled at the picture of King Osmond.

Indeed, it was now possible to understand why he had such a high approval rating among people.

Even Margo herself now wanted to join the raucous chorus chanting 'Long live King Osmond the Third…'

Shaking her head a little at the silly image, however, she just went to the kitchen.

Soon, her daughter will return with her father from school, and she, perhaps, should celebrate today's events with a good dinner, in honor of such fortunate circumstances.

Who knew moving from Mantle would be such a fateful decision for them?

***

Stripe swallowed, staring into the cold eyes of the officer in front of him. Did he know that one day it would end like this? He knew, of course he knew… Only an idiot would think that he could steal money from the army in a state ruled by the army and not have it catch up to him in the end.

"So you're saying that you did not know that your boss was wasting the funding allocated by royal decree for personal purposes?" The officer slowly looked from Stripe to the folder lying in front of him,"As he did this month, the previous one, and even all throughout the year before?"

"I'm just a mechanic, officer, sir" Stripe would have tried to clear his throat, if he had not been afraid to make the officer glare at him some more. "I just created the equipment according to the drawings, I don't really interact directly with the boss…"

"I see… " It was absolutely impossible for Stripe to determine, by the tone of the officer's voice, whether he believed it or not. "So you did not notice when the resources coming to you suddenly became… subpar?"

"I…" Stripe tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, failing miserably. "The metal and the blanks coming to me were always of the same quality. I didn't notice any difference…"

"I see… " The officer said again in a low voice, shifting his gaze throughout the room, making Stripe sweat uncomfortably. "What about with… 'Sample-07'? It did not pass the technical tests…"

"It was a mistake from the engineers, not the mechanics, sir." Stripe tried his best to swallow again, but the lump in his throat did not want to leave, "I… I really didn't know…"

After these words, the officer slowly raised his gaze to Stripe's eyes, forcing him to literally freeze in his chair.

There was a neutral expression in the man's eyes, but Stripe had no doubt that he had sent people to their execution with exactly the same neutral expression on his face.

The RATS officer seemingly glared at him for a few seconds before nodding slowly. "Good, that's all then. You're free to go, another officer will be escorting you out of the office."

After these words, Stripe was finally able to clear the lump in his throat. It seems that he had successfully filled the officer… It seems that this ordeal is about to end…

After another moment, the office door behind him opened and another officer appeared on the threshold. Stripe was not particularly versed in how the organization organized their ranks, but it seems that this officer was of a lower rank than the officer interrogating him. He couldn't wonder about the subject more as the officer immediately waved to Stripe to get up and move after him. Stripe had no choice but to follow him, leaving the officer alone in his office.

The same man, remaining in place, opened the folder, turning it over several pages.

Stripe Oldbridge, thirty-two, a zebra faunus, an expatriate from Menagerie, trained as a mechanic, works at the Royal Laboratory as a mechanic for seven months. His relationship with his boss is purely professional. He has not been noted to be involved in any anti-state activities, and was voted in the elections to the junior parliament at the support of the party of migrants…

The officer turned the page to the report on the search of his house.

A stash under the mattress, old habits perhaps? Found a second scroll, judging by the correspondence contained within, it is for his mistress. The officer did not care about his personal and family life, nor was he interested in Stripe's love affairs.

He flipped to the next page.

Wife, twenty-six years old, mostly apolitical. Son, four years old. Oh, a healthy one, how nice… He has a sister that lives in Vacuo, political views could not be established, a hunter…

It seems that, indeed, there was nothing special about Stripe, nor does he have any 'friends' on the other side of the law, although it shouldn't have been completely discounted.

If the officer were still working with Atlas, this would be the full extent of the 'research'. And most likely, this is also the point where Stripe's would go off scot-free. But, since he moved to Glenn, his powers turned out to be significantly wider than before…

The officer grinned, not only a search of the suspect's house, but also a full report of his family, friends was in his hands. No one could steal from Glenn with impunity, without getting what's coming to them.

And, if in order to search for the missing millions, it would be necessary to disturb a few 'innocent' families? Well, Glenn could afford it.

Once a simple operative, Lyme, now a senior lieutenant of the RATS, The Department of Internal Security, smiled.

In Glenn, his talents, and his in-depth information about Atlas, had found a much better, and most importantly, more profitable use…

Lyme looked at Jonathan's portrait on his desk and grinned.

A long life to you, King Jonathan Goodman.