Lord Nocte Wretch was the Mayor of Port Noth.
The title had been handed down to him through a vast lineage of Wretch patriarchs. His father was Lord Atrius Wretch, the previous mayor, whose death remained unexplainable. The Wretch family estate was a monstrous black tower in the centre of Port Noth. It was overlooking the entire city, covered in smoke, and could be seen from everywhere.
Nocte sat in his great throne-like chair, black and cushioned to perfection, looking at the smog leaving the chimneys and forming one large gathering, before drifting away. He always knew which way the wind was blowing. But his tower produced the most in the whole city. Thick black waste poured out into the sky from hundreds of stacks on all areas of the estate, mixing with the clouds above.
It pleased him greatly. He wasn't happy until people were choking on it. He felt so miserable watching them, so disgusted. That damned city, those worthless empty souls flowing constantly, wasting their short pathetic lives away for him, acquiring all his resources for him. They were ending their own lives, burning coal all day long in their houses. It wasn't his fault. They weren't gonna do a thing about it. Power rippled and raced through Nocte's veins, black liquid seemed to be pooling under his skin, it felt incredible.
Somehow, a red and white butterfly had found it's way into his office, adding colour to the otherwise dreary room. Nocte watched it flutter innocently past his face. He reached up and grabbed it in his hand, looking at it some more. He then closed his hand around the butterfly and squeezed until he felt its innards cover his hand.
"Not so pretty anymore?" he whispered to his hand, before closing it again and rubbing its blood some more.
The door to his office opened with a low ominous screech, a requirement for every door in the tower. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his hand swiftly.
"Mayor Wretch, Mrs. Bloomrock is here for you," said Notce's right-hand man, Mr Greynor, peaking his head in.
"Send her in."
The Mayor didn't enjoy waiting, so Mrs. Bloomrock was in the room within seconds. She was wearing a dark blue dress, black lace layered into its nooks and crannies, Nocte thought her silouette quite enticing, if not for her face. She had deep brown hair tied neatly upwards, and wore spectacles, a mess of freckles hiding behind them, something Nocte found displeasing. But a magnificent silver necklace hung upon her chest, he liked that very much. She had clearly put effort in to fit his standards; he thought to himself. He often studied women and critiqued them like they were on display specifically for him.
"Mrs. Bloomrock, sit down." The Mayor said things with a hypnotic persuasion. He didn't smile, but spoke with a menacingly gentle tone, to leave everyone fearful of what would happen when he raised his voice.
"Good afternoon Mayor Wretch," she did a pitiful courtesy and sat down, "You do recall the discussion we had of matters regarding the Mining Quarters, Lord Wretch?"
"Why, how could I forget, Mrs. Bloomrock?"
"It seems recent issues have increased, my lord. There are countless reports of incidents of a.. severe nature. We are simply not able to file them all. Ottswald is—"
