"They're not gonna kill you," his secretary said as Barchoke rummaged through the cabinets in his office for a suitable tie. He couldn't go in there looking like he had any sort of blood running down his shirt - be it red or green. "Overseer Gutripper might, but he's never liked you; the others won't, at least not right away," she clarified.
From the depths of the cabinet Barchoke withdrew a rumpled black tie that'd do fine. It'd only look like he spilled ink on himself, though he supposed they could still strangle him with it. If that happened the most he could hope for would be a young goblin to be named Tiechoke one day, in honor of the event, so he wouldn't be completely lost to history. Though if Gutripper did it the kid would probably be named Stabbed-in-the-Eye-and-Skullf-
"They'll be way too pissed you called an emergency meeting in the first place," Secretary Trixie's voice cracked as she said the obvious. "So they're more likely to rip you apart verbally before they do it literally."
Besides the alluring voice that drove goblins wild, she'd started telling him what was going on in the bank behind the scenes. If she hadn't he would've blundered his way into an Overseer's Inquisition already by treading on too many toes since he'd gotten the boy's owl. As it is he wasn't far from it even now. He should really think of some way to get things started with her; so far this was their most personal conversation they've ever had and it was completely one-sided.
"Just remember you've got a very good reason for calling them together," she advised as he took the tie by the wide end and flicked it at the desk, making it crack like a whip and come back completely rumple-free.
"You do have a good reason right?" she asked, her eyes alight with undisguised interest. "No one wants a dead goblin's secretary. If you die I'll be back to polishing knuts for a living."
"Well I certainly don't want you polishing anyone else's knuts," Barchoke said before he could stop himself. His eyes bulged when he realized what he'd said and he struggled to get them back in his skull. He'd been spending way too much time with Lester, he decided as he hurriedly tried to get his tie around his neck.
In a flash Secretary Trixie's hand clutched the ones doing battle with his tie and his eyes flickered up to hers. This was it, he decided. She was going to stab him for what he said; secretaries were notorious for stabbing perpetrators of unwanted advances. He was going to die before he ever reached the other Overseers.
After a moment she swatted his hands away and started doing up his tie by herself, still with a peculiar look on her face. Did other secretaries do this or was she thinking that if she was the one to kill him she might become secretary to the one who took his place? If he was going to die, he'd prefer it be for something more heroic than a secretary saving her job.
As she tightened the tie against his throat Trixie asked him the most personal question he had ever heard from another goblin. "Are you interested in mergers and acquisitions?" she asked with an appraising look in her eye.
He tried to keep his blush from showing as he straightened his collar. "Who isn't?" he replied, examining himself in the mirror on the inside of the cabinet door, studiously not looking at his secretary.
"Huh," she said thoughtfully as she quickly looked him up and down again. "Interesting. Guess you shouldn't die then," she said with a shrug as if to say it didn't matter to her before sauntering her way over to open the door for him, as sleek as any cat he'd ever eaten.
Gotts knew he wasn't going to die today, he decided as he put his suit jacket on and buttoned it up smartly as if it were armor. He had a merger he desperately wanted to make. He paused for a moment before going to his desk and taking out the vicious-looking dagger presented to him on the day he'd been appointed Overseer. He had never used it before, never taken it with him before now.
Barchoke placed it in his inside suit pocket and glanced up to see Trixie looking at him like she'd never seen a male before. He smirked. As he strode purposely out of his office he knew that this was the day life truly began for Overseer Barchoke.
All his confidence was lost between the fourth and fifth floors as he was flipped, spun, and corkscrewed into place. The fliplift might be the quickest way to get from floor to floor but it wasn't something to take when your mind was on something else. Overseer Fillast, commonly known as 'the Director' since he oversaw the day-to-day operations of the building itself, may claim it was working as intended but Barchoke would never see why they couldn't just make the damn thing go straight up and down without all this flipping about.
Just once he wished the humans Overseer Bankor kept bringing over from the Ministry to discuss monetary policy would complain about the thing so they could both throw their support behind getting something to replace the repurposed closet-thing. He suspected it was some sort of human pride that kept them from it. Then again, Bankor wasn't known as 'the Little Minister' just for his work liaising with the Goblin Liaison Office; he was far too diplomatic to step on anyone's toes, which made him perfect for dealing with the Ministry but lousy for everything else. Odds are he had them take the stairs just to avoid the issue.
He was dawdling, he knew, but resting his head against the pale green of the tiny room was better than what waited for him. It wasn't 'Director' Fillast or 'Minister' Bankor he dreaded seeing, it was 'the Enforcer,' Overseer Gutripper, the head of Security. Suddenly Barchoke wished he'd brought his files with him, they always made him feel safe. It was too easy to get lost in files though, and digging for figures to cover an uncomfortable moment always made you look weak. He had everything he needed in his head, so as long as he kept his head attached to his shoulders he'd be fine.
Barchoke took a breath and felt the blade in his pocket; it was oddly reassuring to have, even if he didn't know how to use it. It was exceedingly rare for anyone above the rank of cart operator to die by dueling or acts of vengeance - unless you were a guard or Overseer Gutripper was involved - so learning to defend yourself once your family moved Up was unnecessary, not like those who lived Below.
Those at his level had something different to fear: death by mismanagement. While those below him might be demoted, transferred, or outright fired, termination of management, when called for, tended to be swift and brutal, and he didn't think there'd be the same indecision around replacing him as there was about Grand Overseer Largrot, who only kept his position at the top because the Overseers couldn't agree on who should succeed him. No one had yet distinguished themselves or had something working against them.
Pushing open the fliplift's door, Barchoke tried to regain the flash of confidence he'd had in his office as he strode out into the hall. While where he worked on level four had been designed to illustrate the wealth they's been gained in their post-Halfwit "recovery," level five, where the Grand Overseer ostensibly held court at their monthly meetings, was designed to impress upon management precisely what had been lost.
Torches flickered in iron sconces jutting from the drab and unfinished heavy stone blocks forming the entire level. The ceiling was lost to shadow, an illusion, of course, used to give the feeling that those who entered had somehow found their way into a muggle cathedral or ancient castle. Even the temperature and humidity were different, giving the feeling of a wintry storm in the offing.
Some enchantment on the entirety, combined with the sight of the large double doors to the Grand Overseer's Chamber, evoked this profound sense of longing, of grief too long denied, of exclusion, it almost made you weep at the magnitude of it; and that was before ever learning the truth behind the feeling. It had done precisely that the first time he'd been here on the day his father was promoted from teller to account manager and he'd embarrassed himself in front of the Grand Overseer at the time when he was still a child, though the great goblin had smiled at him knowingly then.
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