"Secretary, I hope you're joking…"
The parliamentarian's tone was laced with suspicion. It was clear that the Secretary's proposal had stirred a sense of unease. It wasn't just a matter of policy; it was a suggestion that could easily be interpreted as a bid for power—a potential coup.
Clearing his throat, the Secretary attempted to steady his voice. "Before I delve into my role, let me outline the proposed plan."
"We're listening," another parliamentarian interjected, his voice cutting through the murmurs like the sharp edge of a blade. The tension in the room was palpable, like the sound of rain drumming on metal.
"These three individuals," the Secretary gestured toward the well-groomed man, the bald-headed figure, and the blonde woman, "will each be responsible for… let's say, 'hunting' the insurgents that have emerged."
"Heh, and they won't be acting alone, I presume?" a voice quipped from the back.
"Indeed," the Secretary confirmed. "Each will oversee an agency within their designated hemisphere, tasked with eliminating any threats to the Confederation."
"And who will protect the Confederation from them?" The question hung in the air, the unspoken concern of every parliamentarian. Any new power, especially one with such a dangerous mandate, could easily turn into a threat if left unchecked.
Anticipating this reaction, the Secretary met their gazes, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. The room was charged with a tension so thick it could almost be touched.
"That is why, fellow parliamentarians, I propose that we put the remaining two positions to a vote."
The room erupted in debates, voices clashing in a cacophony of opinions. The creation of this new agency was a double-edged sword, and everyone in the room knew it. It could be a tool for maintaining order, or a weapon poised to strike at the heart of their power.
Before the discussions could spiral out of control, an older parliamentarian's voice cut through the noise, bringing silence to the room. "Kid, before these youngsters get too excited, explain exactly what you're proposing."
Another voice chimed in, adding, "And why are there two positions being offered? As I understand it, only one is missing."
The Secretary took a deep breath. These were no ordinary parliamentarians—they were among the most influential figures in the Confederation, and their scrutiny was as sharp as a blade.
"Ahem, of course," the Secretary began, carefully choosing his words. "The vote would be for the position of director for the remaining hemisphere. As for the second position, it would serve as a liaison."
"A liaison?" the old parliamentarian echoed, his tone skeptical.
"Yes," the Secretary continued, "a liaison to ensure communication between the parliamentarians and the four directors."
The parliamentarian who had posed the first question seemed amused, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intelligence. Despite the mask, the Secretary could feel the weight of his gaze, like a rabbit caught in the sight of a hawk. He swallowed hard.
"So, you intend to use this new agency to secure your way out of here, don't you?"
Seated once more, the parliamentarian's voice held a note of dark amusement. The three individuals standing next to the Secretary, who had entered the room with an air of confidence, now seemed subdued, their eyes fixed on the ground. They were beginning to understand the true nature of the forces at play.
"I—I wouldn't phrase it that way, sir," the Secretary stammered.
"Then enlighten this old man."
The Secretary's heart pounded in his chest. "Having held a similar position before, I believe the liaison role would be well-suited for me."
"What a noble child… good." The parliamentarian's voice dripped with sarcasm. Rising from his seat, he addressed the room. "I propose that the Secretary General, in light of his loyalty to the Confederation…"
He paused, letting the tension build, before continuing. "…retain his position as Secretary General and serve as the liaison of this new agency."
"…By the way," he added with a sly smile, "what will the agency be called? Given your apparent foresight, I'm sure you've already decided."
The Secretary was drenched in sweat. He had anticipated some resistance, but never in his worst nightmares had he expected to be so thoroughly exposed. His plans were now in shambles; all he could do was walk the path they had set before him, hoping the leash they had placed around his neck wouldn't be tightened any further.
"…I propose it be called the Office of Justice," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And as for the liaison position… I suggest it be named Oracle."