Sergeant Donovan whistled an upbeat tune as he walked toward the Inquisition's compound, watching the banners shimmering above the white stone walls. He was in a grand mood. For a while, that cult business had hung over the boys in Inquisition like a funeral shroud. Now, though, everything seemed to be clearing up. Donovan didn't know any details, of course. They were above his paygrade, and he was just fine with it staying that way.
Up the stairs, through the colonnade. The sergeant pushed open the heavy brass doors with his left hand, carefully maintaining his grip on the steel box in his right. Every two weeks he stopped by to pick up the watch relays, detailing which cults and organizations had been active recently and how to watch for signs of their work. It was a long walk, generally considered a bum job, but Donovan didn't mind. The Templars did fine work. It was an honor to have a few minutes to chat with whoever was on duty while a secretary retrieved the files.
The first thing Donovan noticed was the smell of the place. It was... off. The familiar steel and leather, paper and ink were all still there, but a sweet (and likely expensive) fragrance undercut the more familiar scents. The sergeant wrinkled his nose in an unsuccessful attempt to dispel the aroma. Who would be wearing that? The Templars, naturally, were all male. Secretarial work was handled by women, but they were veterans who had done their time with the city watch before working alongside the inquisitors. None of them were younger than fifty. Donovan shrugged. Enough musing.
It seemed that Margaret wasn't working the front desk today after all. Donovan realized, looking around, that none of the office workers were familiar. They were all young. They were all beautiful.
The girl sitting at the desk smiled at Donovan as he approached, causing his heart to flutter briefly. "Hi mister, can I help you?"
"Here for the watch relay, miss," he said, setting the steel lockbox on the desk. "Precinct Fourteen."
The girl turned in her seat and ran her manicured fingers down the sleeve of the Templar seated behind her at the intake desk. "Marcus, sweetie, run and fetch watch relay for fourteen for me, won't you?"
Marcus Fulbright, fifteen-year veteran of the Templars Inquisition, blushed like a schoolgirl. "Of course, miss Emma." He stood quickly and began walking toward the storeroom, nearly tripping over a stray waste bin as he turned to look back at his assistant.
Donovan furrowed his brow, staring at the retreating Templar. "Huh." He frowned, refocusing his attention on the woman seated in front of him.
Her perfectly toned legs were clad in sheer black stockings, left leg crossed over right, absent-mindedly bouncing the heel the was half-hanging off her foot. She wore a tight black miniskirt, short enough to show the floral pattern at the top of her stockings. A white dress shirt clung to her large, firm breasts; it was just translucent enough to hint at the warm pink of her skin underneath. The upper four buttons were undone, revealing an unprofessional amount of cleavage and the top of a black satin bra that could more accurately be categorized as lingerie. Her golden blonde hair was done up into a messy bun, held in place with a scrunchie the same dark red as her lipstick.
The girl gave a satisfied smirk when she caught Donovan staring. Surely she couldn't be older than eighteen, he thought. Twenty at the most. This wasn't someone who'd served in the watch -- why was she working front desk for the Inquisition? Why were any of these women? One was sitting on Templar Warren's lap. And
she
appeared to be dictating a letter to
him
.
Not that it was Donovan's place question any of this. It was certainly odd. Unsettling, even. But what was he going to do -- report his superiors for changing their secretarial pool?
Templar Fulbright returned, walking at a brisk pace. He deposited a sealed envelope into the lockbox, fastened it shut, and handed it to Donovan.
Emma stroked the back of the Templar's hand as he sat, eliciting a slight shiver from him. "Thank you, baby." She turned to Sergeant Donovan and smiled, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear and drawing his attention to the pair of gold bangles on her wrist. "See you later, handsome." She winked.
Donovan opened his mouth, realized he had nothing to say, and walked briskly from the complex. He needed to have this conversation with someone. But who was going to listen?
***
Magistrate Valken was an honest man, an old friend, and had agreed with Donovan's concerns about the Inquisition compound. Unfortunately, Valken had explained, the Templars were a powerful organization and it would be impossible to launch any kind of inquiry without hard evidence. Valken had given the sergeant a meaningful look, explaining that his hands were tied. Donovan knew what that look meant. He would need to acquire the evidence on his own.
Espionage -- or any kind of duplicity, for that matter -- was not Sergeant Donovan's forte. His stomach churned unpleasantly as he entered the Inquisition building for the second time that week. The atmosphere, accompanied by that same lingering perfume, was unimproved from a few days ago. He spotted a broad-shouldered Templar leaning his forearm against the back wall, talking animatedly to one of the girls as she giggled and played with her hair.
Emma was at the front desk, holding up a hand mirror as she carefully reapplied her lipstick. Donovan coughed quietly. Emma took several more seconds to finish up, put her makeup away, and looked up at him from her seat.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"Oh, it's just... I mean." Donovan cleared his throat. You're doing this for the city, he reminded himself. The sergeant flashed a slip of cream-colored paper bearing Valken's seal. "Magistrate just wanted me to dig through some records. If that's alright."
She pursed her lips. Gods above, she was gorgeous. He could almost imagine those full red lips, wrapped tenderly around... Donovan worked to suppress the thought. You're here on business. Keep it together, man.
"I don't see why that would be a problem. I'll get one of the boys to help you look."
"Oh, no need to trouble them," he rambled, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture. "It's an old record, might take a while. I can tend to it myself."
Emma smiled cheerfully. "Such a gentleman! You know where record storage is?"
"Yes ma'am." Was it really going to be this easy? Donovan knew he shouldn't be pleased to see the Inquisition's security measures had lapsed this badly, but at least it made his job easier.
"Alright, just head on back then." She waved him off.
Donovan made sure to keep his pace even. He was calm, collected, and stared at the ground as he walked.
It was a relief to discover that the records area was unoccupied. Rows and stacks of books, journals, and documentation lay in a neatly organized labyrinth in the complex's basement. Every four feet the walls were inscribed with a complex rune that hurt your eyes to look at, presumably to keep wizards from snooping.
Thankfully, he didn't need to walk far -- internal records were kept to the front. He had no idea where to start, but after 30 years with the city watch Donovan was no stranger to paperwork. He sat down, pulled out a likely-looking box of documents, and got to work.
An hour later, Donovan was rubbing his eyes and staring with distaste at the fifth box of files. The problem, he decided, was that he didn't know what he was looking for. There had been nothing relevant in the personnel. All of the new workers were brought in appropriately, but their work history was redacted and thus worthless to Valken. The previous secretaries' files had been pulled, but he couldn't be sure they weren't just misplaced. Donovan sighed and rubbed the crick in his neck.
"Having trouble, mister?"
Donovan craned his neck around, wincing as it twinged in pain.
"Hi, I'm Amanda! Emma said you might need a hand." The speaker one of the new secretaries, her dark red hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She was tall, shapely, and almost unbelievably well-endowed. Her shirt barely contained its contents, cleavage spilling out of her bra. She walked toward him in a bouncy, mesmeric display.
Donovan flushed as he turned back to the documents in front of him. "Oh. That's very kind and all, but I'm fine. Just fine. No need to trouble yourself." He could hear the click of her heels growing closer -- what if she asked to see his requisition letter? She'd realize right away that it didn't line up with the files he had been perusing.
The girl's hands settled on the sergeant's shoulders and began to gently knead his muscles. "Oh, sergeant... You must be tense after all that work." Her breasts rested gently against the top of the man's head. "You just keep at it, let me take care of you."
Donovan's tension melted under her hands as they soothed his tired muscles. What should he do next? This was certainly an unprofessional situation, no matter how nice it felt. But he was also engaged in illegal espionage against a Templar order, and she didn't seem to be paying attention to that. Donovan tentatively picked up the next stack of files as the girl's skilled fingers caressed his neck and shoulders in all the right places.
"Mmm," Amanda purred, "Your body is sooo stiff! You really shouldn't let it build up like this." One hand deftly opened the top buttons of his uniform as the other slid inside his shirt, and soon she was massaging his bare shoulders with renewed intensity.
Donovan could feel his focus lapsing as he dissolved into the girl's touch. The scent of her body, warm and fragrant, filled his nostrils. He'd been on the same page for the last five minutes -- toughing this out wasn't going to work. Moments later he felt another button open, followed by warm, feminine hands stroking his chest. The girl leaned forward, soft breasts pressed against his neck. Donovan's cock, already at half-mast despite his best efforts, now tented uncomfortably against his trousers.
"Are you enjoying yourself, mister?" He could feel her hot breath against his ear as her finger circled his nipple. "All the boys love it when I touch them this way. Soon you'll be wrapped around my finger too."
Something was wrong here, very wrong. "Miss, I'm sorry, I don't mean to... I'm just doing my job, I couldn't possibly. I'll be done in a moment."
He began stuffing papers back into the box as quickly as he could, paying little mind to their respective folders.
"You already have it out! Do you mind if I sit?" Donovan blinked rapidly, looking up to see a cute brunette approaching, her hair separated into pigtails that bounced prettily as she walked. He also couldn't help noticing the indentation of her stockings against her deliciously plump thighs.
His mind stumbled. Could she sit? "Um, sure. I'll be done in just - "
"Thanks! I'm Tanya, by the way." She turned, offering a momentary view of her curvy hips and perfect bubble butt before snuggling into Donovan's lap. His erection twitched in anticipation as she nestled it between her thighs. Tanya reached for two of the files the sergeant been about to put away and before leaning back against him, ensconcing his face between two waterfalls of wavy brown hair. He inhaled involuntarily, taking in the intoxicating feminine fragrance.
