Mardias placed his palms on his knees, his back straight. It was a posture that presented his upper body like a shield, completely exposing his breathing rhythm and strength. In this stance, inner weaknesses and emotional fluctuations were laid bare. It could signify oppression, or it could signify submission. Mardias understood that his current audience needed him to express the latter.
Not far in front of him was a long table, behind which sat eight investigators appointed by the council, watching him. Occasionally, one or two of them would lean toward their neighbor and whisper. The leader sitting in the center was named Hamilton, a legal advisor to the royal family. He evidently held more authority than the other seven, as those seated at the edges would pass messages through the middleman to seek his opinion. It was afternoon, and the soft golden sunlight streaming in from the window behind Hamilton slid across his shoulders, casting his face into shadow.
For the nine people present, the room was excessively spacious. There were no guards, which, while beneficial for confidentiality, was also unnecessary. The interrogation rooms of MI7 were constructed to be extremely narrow, both due to building constraints and to create a sense of inescapability for the interrogated. Now, there was a vast space behind Mardias; the council didn't need to make him feel trapped. A person stranded in the middle of the ocean wouldn't be allowed to swim freely by the expansive waters, only clinging tightly to a fragment of the ship.
Interrogation. MI7's training for agents included playing the role of a suspect under questioning. They had to learn all the rules of fabricating and tearing apart lies, regardless of their position. Mardias had undergone similar training, but he still felt unfamiliar with the current situation. Born to lead, he was unprepared for truly being the one under interrogation.
— The suspicious gazes from the other side. Hands forced to stay rigid. An empty room waiting to be filled with words of mutual rebuke and battle. Dignity retreating powerlessly to the shadows. He thought his grandfather must have gone through something similar when he was young and endured it... He suddenly realized he had always been under his grandfather's interrogation, anytime, anywhere. It wasn't about emotions, just a psychological approach to the other person. That was his grandfather's way of speaking to him, and to everyone. He remembered trying to conceal one or two minor mistakes during training or mission reports, only to find out that these attempts were futile, meaningless in front of his grandfather—or sometimes, Jorgen. This thought calmed him considerably.
I am still the future leader of MI7; I must control the situation. Controlling the situation means everything must be handled according to established principles.
Hamilton gathered the scattered documents in his hand, stacked them neatly, and set them down. As he tapped the bottom of the papers on the table, the room grew even quieter. The other investigators stopped talking, straightened up, and looked at the person being interrogated.
"Mr. Mardias Shawl," Hamilton said. "I want to inform you of some good news first. The King has decided to arrange a funeral befitting your grandfather's status. The exact date is yet to be determined."
Mardias nodded.
"This brings us to the first question we need to understand. For the past eight months, MI7 has been using the dwarven alchemist's embalming techniques to secretly preserve Mr. Panthonia's body, neither burying nor cremating it. Was this to prepare for a proper funeral in the future?"
"Yes."
"This means MI7 plans to make his death public."
"He made significant contributions to this country. His death is something the public must know about."
"Don't you think this statement contradicts reality?" another investigator said. Hamilton raised his palm, signaling the person to be quiet, then continued.
"On this paper in my hand are the questions we should ask you. Some are very critical, and some are just to ensure we don't miss any aspect of this significant matter. There's a series of questions I had marked as 'very important,' but I no longer think so. They concern the exact date and detailed cause of Mr. Panthonia's death."
"You can get detailed records of these from my grandfather's private physician."
"I know. I mean, the royal coroner is dissecting the body, trying to answer these questions, but this work might not yield substantial results because of the changes over the eight months of embalming. Given the lack of evidence, I can only choose to trust MI7's sincerity, so these questions aren't as important. I have more pressing matters to learn from you. At the time of Mr. Panthonia's death, Jorgen was in the Arathi Highlands. You summoned him back with a secret letter. This means you had ample time to handle this matter yourself, not to mention the authority. Regardless of Jorgen's influence, at the time of the incident, you could have made the decision yourself. Therefore, strictly speaking, the first person to conceal the death was you, not Jorgen. Why was your first action not to bid farewell to your relative, but to summon Jorgen back?"
"Handling the body was not the most important issue at the time. You may not understand, but my grandfather's soul would definitely agree with my actions. What I needed to discuss with Jorgen was the work arrangements following my grandfather's death, and when and how to announce his death was a crucial part of those arrangements. I don't think I need to remind you that the news of Benedictus's serious illness was also not made public immediately."
"So, you believe there was nothing improper about your handling of this matter until Jorgen returned to Stormwind."
"Yes."
"Why did the person you needed to consult have to be Jorgen?"
"He was my grandfather's most trusted agent during his lifetime and also my mentor in many ways. As my grandfather's health gradually declined, we—my grandfather, Jorgen, and I—had already discussed and decided on the handling of this situation. Since Jorgen was already in charge of a significant portion of important work, it was necessary to consult with him upon my grandfather's death."
"His official registered identity has always been just an agent of MI7," another investigator said. "According to your words, even before Panthonia's death, Jorgen had already been given powers far exceeding his title."
"You don't understand MI7's way of allocating work. Jorgen led some important work but did not influence the decision-making direction of MI7..."
"Of course, we don't understand," the previous investigator interrupted Mardias, "because you make everything so secretive. Jorgen's status is so important that you needed to discuss Mr. Shawl's death with him, yet you say he doesn't influence MI7's decisions? Not just me, probably everyone here won't be convinced."
"We're not here today to learn about MI7's work processes," Hamilton said. "Mr. Mardias, please explain how you and Jorgen made the decision to conceal the death for so long."
"At the beginning, I didn't know it would last eight months. We did need some buffer time, so I immediately ordered the body to be embalmed. My initial estimate was that we needed about three weeks to handle related matters, but Jorgen gradually extended it to eight months. I must say, my grandfather and I trusted him too much. While I was mentally distracted by my grandfather's death, he obtained some key documents that were fully under my grandfather's control, took over some responsibilities that didn't belong to him, and used them to force me to delay the announcement of the death."
"He threatened you."
"This had nothing to do with my personal safety. He used my sense of responsibility to maintain MI7's future. Initially, I did not suspect his intentions. When the news of the archbishop's serious illness came out, his intentions became clear..."
"Intentions? This is the first time you use this term. What kind of intentions?"
Mardias was silent for a moment.
"At that time, I already understood that if this continued, MI7 would face very serious consequences. Don't misunderstand my use of this term. I'm not saying I saw through some long-term plot of his, but he obviously wanted to use the chaos following the archbishop's illness to continue the current situation."
"In any case, eight months is not a Shawlt time. It's hard to imagine that in these eight months, you had no opportunity to resist Jorgen and reveal the truth."
"I'm not saying I was blameless in this matter. After my grandfather's death, my main concern was the stability of MI7, which led to some wrong judgments. Jorgen was once a trusted colleague of both my grandfather and me, but now I must say he has betrayed us and the trust of all of MI7."
"Given the current situation, Jorgen does indeed need to take key responsibility, which is why he has been imprisoned. Do you think he deserves severe punishment?"
"After Archbishop Hylan requested a debate with my grandfather, I realized the situation couldn't be delayed, so I persuaded Jorgen to surrender. As you can see, he complied and did not resist the law. Whether he ever intended to permanently take control of MI7, I cannot give a definite answer. I can only say that the longer the delay, the more likely it would cause irreparable chaos. Jorgen has led my grandfather's legacy and an important national institution down the wrong path. He should receive punishment fitting this crime; otherwise, it will be difficult for MI7 to return to normal operations."
How Hamilton would interpret and explain this statement to his superiors, Mardias did not know. Emphasizing that MI7 should continue to exist and function was essential. One could even say that as long as the council believed this, nothing else mattered. He didn't know what Jorgen would say in prison, but he should agree with this final statement about MI7.
Mardias knew that eight months was too long a time, and no explanation would be sufficiently convincing to the council. And the truly convincing answer, he could not disclose.
Last night, Elin had come to him. In the past, Mardias could have avoided Elin's questions by invoking his grandfather's name, but now that was impossible.
"I know what kind of trick you all are up to," Elin said. "Eight months... this is really bad luck. Troubles coming one after another. The council will interrogate you, right? Have you thought about what to say, young master? I figured it out in no time. Jorgen was foolish, and you just watched him be foolish?"
"I don't need to explain anything to you."
"Of course not, because I've already figured it out thoroughly, and I don't need you to tell me. I suppose you won't be revealing the undertaker plan to the council in detail, right? Why couldn't the old man have died six months earlier or later, instead of during the unresolved situation at Stromgarde? At that time, you were using the old man's name to fool Galin, saying the undertaker plan could still proceed. If Galin knew the person giving orders was dead, you wouldn't have been able to hold him down. Not just Galin, that matter also involved Lawrence, Ravenholt Manor... Only Jorgen could come up with such an idea. The old man died, you must have panicked, right? Only Jorgen could think of keeping it hidden, at least until... the matter at Stromgarde was resolved. Galin died, then the archbishop's illness and the earthquake followed. By now, the time has dragged on too long, and with Archbishop Hylan pressing, damage is unavoidable, so Jorgen has to be sacrificed."
"Your wild guesses are your own business, but don't try to spread them around."
Mardias knew he shouldn't continue speaking to Elin this way, but he didn't want to remain silent. Elin stepped closer and punched him in the abdomen. The punch wasn't very fast or hard, but Mardias didn't dodge it. He bent over, protecting the spot that was hit, and looked at the ground.
"Still trying to play tricks with me. Jorgen is foolish, you are foolish too, doing whatever he says. I was also foolish this time, didn't notice what was happening right beside me. Because of this, I'm very angry, so don't say things like I don't know or I'm guessing wildly. I'm going to that River Prison now..."
"What do you want to do? They won't let you in."
"Mind your own business!"
Elin left. Mardias raised his head. He, the next leader of MI7; this subordinate had never truly respected him. He didn't know if there were others who only felt fear because of his grandfather or only had confidence in MI7 because of Jorgen. He had to find his place; this might be the last chance.