Wriothesley

Personality

"Fortress Manager Meropidas." If Wriothesley had a business card, this would be all that would be written on it. Without further ado, we can say that he controls that silent place on the seabed where exiled criminals end up. The Meropid Fortress is a haven for villains. Despite the inconspicuousness of this place, the conflicts of interest lurking here can lead to disaster. Unfortunately, everyone who plots to enter here disappears without a sound. Like bread crumbs falling into soup. When someone flatters His Grace the Duke for being such a great problem solver, Wriothesley puts his cup of tea on the table and... takes out a newspaper. “You have it all wrong. These people need a place with rules of residence. I'm just giving them the peace of mind they need." unusually smart and insightful, wants to protect everyone who finds himself in the fortress under his tutelage. can be cruel if it becomes too necessary. He is no stranger to smiles and kindness. he values sincere trust much more than obedience caused by fear.

about the character

Much to the relief of the House of Ordaly, most of the inhabitants of Cour de Fontaine are very law-abiding, and therefore the fortress of Meropides never crosses their path in life. At the same time, another sad, albeit logical, fact is true: those who have served their sentences under water rarely return to a full life in the land world and do not like to talk about their experiences below. So for many Fontaineans, the Meropides fortress is not so much a specific place as a general idea, a warning, a symbol of punishment and misfortune, or even just a curse. Thanks to this, Wriothesley leads a modest life as an unknown person, not at all befitting the holder of a dukedom. And exactly at the very moment when someone says, “If you do something like this again, you’ll go to the Meropid fortress,” or “Damn work, I wish I could turn bolts underwater,” the manager of that same underwater fortress may well be walking nearby along the paved road. to the café to grab some treats for afternoon tea.

story #1

In fact, Wriothesley rarely leaves the fortress. Using the network of information and connections created by him personally, he can obtain any information or materials he needs without leaving his office. But he knows very well: if he locks himself in an office with a lot of hassle constantly falling on him, he will either stop sleeping normally at night, or, on the contrary, will fall asleep at the bottom of an eternal sleep. To manage a fortress comfortably, you need two things - pestilence and manpower. Fortunately, the Meropid fortress is a huge factory, and Wriothesley knows how to do business very well - even the Palace of Mermonia is among his satisfied clients. It is important that caring for the interests of the Palace is not regarded as flirting with power, and the Cour de Fontaine does not have the right to inquire too much about the affairs of the Meropide fortress, so in the end it all comes down to the sea - the more, the better. And although the requirements of the Gesion Chamber for documents are very strict, Wriothesley is happy to fill them out. (The Fontaine Kinetic Energy Research Institute could have competed with the Palace due to the huge need for archium for research, but after the institute literally blew up, this plan of cooperation had to be temporarily abandoned. Maybe things will work out later.) Rich people often make the mistake of putting pestilence before people. In that Wriothesley was lucky: he was not born rich and therefore knows how important it is to be able to get along with others. He treats all the inhabitants of the fortress equally, be they prisoners, guards or other employees, and never finds fault in vain, as long as the person performs his duties well. But if someone goes beyond what is prescribed, he will always have something to say. After all, they live in a closed underwater space, most of the inhabitants of which are closed to the outside. Of course, Wriothesley would like everyone in the fortress to remain reasonable, but if words are not enough,

story #2

In Fontaine, where they pride themselves so much on their impartiality, a title cannot be bought - certainly not at a price. That long-ago conversation between Wriothesley and Clorinda was just a playful skirmish designed to brighten up dry business communication. However, although the duke's title was never part of the deal, the transfer of the fortress of Meropides to the control of Wriothesley inextricably linked with “money”. The currency of the Meropid Fortress is premium coupons, and they have been a means of exchange for a long time, only a few details have changed. Long before Wriothesley came here as a prisoner, trading for coupons was much freer, and the range of goods available for purchase was more extensive. If enough coupons were at stake, the goods could include dangerous potions, safe bets, the support of doubtful supporters, and even the human right to breathe. Such transactions, of course, went beyond the law, but with official channels everything was far from simple: if you did not have connections, then you were left to buy food and water in the canteen at exorbitant prices, which means your fate was not decided by some a mythical lot, but daily extracurricular work. In those days, bonus coupons were more a means of control over prisoners for fortress employees. Of course, throwing lawbreakers into the chaos of lawlessness to fend for themselves may seem very reasonable, but Wriothesley was not going to put up with it. He didn't mind adapting to the environment, but not to one that was initially poorly suited for survival. He spent a lot of time to raise the initial capital in illegal fist fights, and then spent it to earn even more. He was observant, eloquent and modest in his manner, and as a result, no one noticed how he soon had more premium coupons in his hands than all the others combined. The wealth he accumulated made him famous among the prisoners. And then what should have been expected happened: in one night the manager of the fortress emptied his account.

story #3

Having gained access to the documents, Wriothesley could examine the records of his own case. There wasn't much material there, and that was all that the Fontaine authorities were able to find out at this point. According to his host family's sales records, he was an adopted foundling; no other reliable information was found. While looking through the documents, he saw several familiar names, at the mention of which foggy images flashed before his eyes, quickly disappearing under the rustle of turning pages. If he wanted, he could use his connections to find out how his old comrades were doing, but he immediately dismissed such thoughts. He is the past for them, which they do not want to remember. And they are no longer a part of life for him. He had a new status, a new home and new friends. It was quite unusual. He now had more than enough acquaintances, although he could call only a few friends, and some of them were not even human - he believed that the fact was that the Melusines were truly full of desire to communicate with humanity. The appearance of Melusines does not give a reliable idea of their age, but in the goodwill with which they communicate with people, there is a naive belief inherent in elders that young human beings are inherently good, and therefore worthy of care and faith in their future limitless possibilities. Wriothesley himself more than once became the object of this concern. When he found himself on the street and had no other property than what he was wearing, a passing Melusine treated him to hot soup. When he failed to escape the ring unscathed, Sijwyn warmly welcomed him to the infirmary. Not to mention the fact that the servants of the Twilight Court always gladly helped him in investigating secret affairs. Therefore, he always allows the Melusines to visit the Meropid fortress, even when this is fraught with unnecessary trouble. The head nurse will certainly warn them about what they need to be careful about. And, perhaps, you don’t have to worry too much about the well

story#4

At the sight of a crimson stain spreading across the floor, Wriothesley suddenly had an inappropriate thought: how many Melusine officers would be required for the investigation? After that, he switched to other thoughts: wow, his blood is so similar to the blood of the people who deceived him that they can merge together. It's just sickening. But there was no nausea; it seemed that he did not have enough strength for this. He couldn't even lift a finger. Thoughts left him along with the warmth, and only fog remained in his head - there was nothing in his life worth remembering. But he didn't die. Apparently, fate wanted him to continue to live with a load of guilt, and therefore he woke up in a hospital bed, his hands were handcuffed to an iron bar. A decently dressed woman looked at him tensely, pushing her chair further away. She probably considered him a juvenile psychopath, naturally prone to crime. She pulled out paper and pen and asked his name. Wriothesley was silent for a long time. He remembered an obituary he had once seen in a newspaper and the unusual name of someone who had peacefully died in his declining years. He didn’t like this name too much, but he didn’t even want to name the one his adoptive parents gave him. The woman wrote down "Wriothesley" and told him the court date - it was the day doctors predicted he would be able to get out of bed - and then hurriedly left. The trial went smoothly, for which he was grateful. The crime stained his hands and soul, and he longed for fair punishment. He spoke about the murder in every detail and even added a couple of details, leaving no reason for public controversy. But the debate still unfolded: first, the audience discussed past cases involving orphans in an attempt to discover patterns, then suddenly they began to stand up for him, arguing that the dead were themselves villains, which means he deserves a pardon. But this noise had no effect on the final verdict of the court, and the criminal went to serve his sentence under water. Befor

story#5

Mechanical gloves Wriothesley has changed many times. They first appeared in his arms after escaping from his foster family. With his age and physique, the boy was unable to cope with even one adult, let alone several. All he had to do was wander around, take on any part-time jobs and master the art of picking locks and making small mechanisms. He wanted to properly prepare himself to return and destroy the cursed place. He created a device that attaches to the wrist and is capable of shooting nails at high speed, penetrating any sufficiently soft material. Alas, the number of uses was limited, so after the battle the device, like itself, completely lost its functionality. And unlike the young man, the mechanism could not be restored. In the past, the underground pankration ring in Meropid Fortress had no set venue or rules. To continue to win and earn coupons, he had to constantly change his gloves, because a trick used in front of the public could be used against him the next time. In addition, the gloves, even if they did not become unusable in the ring, could always be stolen or damaged. So he had to start all over again and again. When better materials became available to him, his progress accelerated. He no longer needed to use chemical potions to power the mechanism, and he had assistants from the Fontaine Research Institute. Scientists explained to him the principles of operation of the mechanisms, and at the same time lamented the topic of various outrageous events at the Institute. Wriothesley found this extremely curious: the development of technology increased the number of crimes committed and at the same time helped in solving them. So does progress make the world worse or better? Hard to say. By that time, he no longer participated in fights in the ring so often, and saved his gloves for solving the most difficult problems. They no longer took lives, but on the contrary, brought him universal admiration and respect. But the residents of the fortress know little about the crime he once