It was finally the day of Virgil and Claudia’s visit to the training facility.
According to the director’s wife, their visits across the region were a resounding success. He was deeply grateful to her for always keeping him up-to-date. What the Partean commander said echoed in his mind: “Everyone has their role to play.”
He jotted a note to himself to see about visiting headquarters to check if any female civil officials were available for transfer. Gathering information from the refugees wasn’t going as smoothly as he would’ve liked. All his crew were men, as was the deacon. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d made a major oversight there.
Also, while it often slipped his mind, the deacon was a refugee himself. The director didn’t want to overburden him. Faithful had arrived from the local monastery to help, but the refugees didn’t trust them the way they did Smit. Thus, the director wasn’t confident that they were adequately addressing the female refugees’ needs.
When Claudia’s carriage arrived, the director stood a little taller, his attention devoted to her visit with Virgil. He wished that they could restore a little hope to the refugees, as they had done for their citizens.
Blood roared in his ears. He was all nerves, reminding himself that he needed to avoid offending the lord or his lady sister. When the Lindsay siblings emerged from the carriages—easily identifiable by their trademark black hair—he nearly fainted. Their skin was so polished that it sparkled, and he half wondered if they were human.
I guess this is what people mean when they say we live in different worlds.
The director was not unaccustomed to the aristocracy; his direct superior was a viscount. But this was on a different level. His preconceptions were washed away. If someone told him the Lindsay siblings were fae who lived among the clouds, he would’ve believed it. He bowed his head instinctively, not brave enough to meet their gazes.
I can’t believe this is the man who wrote me directly. He swore to himself that he’d polish that picture frame as soon as he could go home.
When Virgil complimented him on his hard work, the director felt like he was dreaming. But he soon jolted back to reality when Virgil and Claudia began making inquiries about the refugee situation. It was gracious of them to take the time and effort to come and understand the goings-on at the facility. This was no time for him to indulge in Virgil’s praise.
One of their biggest problems was the lack of an adequate bathing area. But even if they had one, they had to be careful of their water usage and any resulting sewage. Most of the Lindsays’ region was farmland, and the area around this facility was no exception. They couldn’t risk water shortages or contamination being blamed on the refugees, not even if it affected only a select part of the countryside. That was why they had to forgo using more water than necessary or establishing a bathing facility that required kindling. Fortunately, Claudia and Virgil already seemed aware of these circumstances and didn’t press him further.
They were having a productive dialogue until the director inadvertently admitted his shortcomings when it came to the female refugees.
“I’ll see what I can find out from the women,” Claudia said.
“That would be best,” Virgil agreed. “There are things women only feel comfortable discussing with one another. We men can only do so much.”
With that, the decision was made.
This unexpected turn made things a bit hectic for the staff, but it was positive chaos this time. With Claudia’s slogan motivating him, the director reflected on his own mistakes. He should have recruited female officials from the start.
Claudia and Virgil’s visit had a visible effect. All the women Claudia pulled aside for one-on-one interviews seemed to perk up after they finished. Their bright moods had a sweeping effect on the rest of their fellow refugees.
I can’t believe her meetings had such an impact!
Maybe it was because the women finally felt like Harland was willing to accept them long-term instead of offering them temporary refuge. No matter how much the director had attempted to reassure them, he was but a lowly official. He could offer no guarantees. It wasn’t until the high-ranking rulers made those promises directly that the refugees could rest easy.
“All that’s left, then, is to strengthen security.” The director hadn’t recognized the need for daytime patrols until Claudia had pointed out the atmosphere inside the place. He’d been negligent. He put his trust in his crew and anyone else working around the facility, assuming they were good people—and that bias was dangerous.
The director had heard before that every person had two wolves inside them, one good and one bad. They fought constantly, and whichever one you fed would win out. He needed to ensure no one’s bad wolf ate their fill.
There were more women than men among the refugees, as most men in the conflict zone had been conscripted. Knowing this, the director had prioritized male officials among his staff—but he should have been more conscientious about the risks that could pose.
Fortunately, Claudia was already acquainted with Darton. She had granted him leave to recruit mercenaries from Parte and to use the Lindsay name if necessary.
The director was impressed by Claudia’s shrewdness. She’d had no trouble convincing Nelly to speak up. “We need to take steps toward earning their trust,” she had said to him. Those words were now their slogan, which he kept in mind and let guide him.
“And we need to prohibit them from sex work,” he reminded himself out loud, recalling her orders.
They had prohibited such activities when the Arakanerians visited as well. It was always possible that a few who’d come for agricultural training might run away and become illegal immigrants. With no official identification, they would have little choice but to sell their bodies to make ends meet. Fortunately, they were surrounded by farmland, and everyone out in the boonies knew one another. Anyone who had ever tried to make a run for it had been captured. There were strict policies in place, allowing them to forcibly apprehend anyone who misbehaved.
Children’s voices echoed in the distance, along with the women’s laughter. Those were the very things the director wanted to protect. The refugees were here for very different reasons than the Arakanerians. He wanted to believe they wouldn’t resort to prostitution or make a run for it, but he had to earn their trust before he announced these prohibitions. Otherwise, they would have no meaning. The words Claudia had muttered unthinkingly to herself, which had since become their slogan, were perfectly apt for their situation. It would take baby steps, but they would prove themselves trustworthy.
And I will be a role model for the rest of my crew, the director swore to himself.