After the awkward exchange with Fred, Bertha decided to move on to her next candidate, Ben. "Fred, could you please ask Ben to come to my office?" she requested, her voice slightly strained.
A few minutes later, Ben shuffled into the office, his one good eye peering at Bertha with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Ben was an older man, weathered and wiry, with a reputation for being gruff and obedient. He fit Bertha's personal motto: the best subordinates were those who were easy to command.
"You wanted to see me, boss?" Ben asked, his voice raspy.
"Yes, Ben," Bertha replied, gesturing to the papers on her desk. "I need you to read this passage aloud."
Ben's eye narrowed. "Read? What for?"
"It's a test for a new position," Bertha explained, repeating the same explanation she had given Fred.
Ben grunted, but he picked up the paper and began to read, his voice slow and deliberate. He wasn't much better than Fred, stumbling over words and struggling with pronunciation. But he was determined, and he didn't question Bertha's authority. He just did as he was told.
Bertha watched him, her expression neutral. She wasn't expecting much, but she was hoping to find someone, anyone, who could at least read a basic report. She was also sizing up Ben's obedience. He might not be the most literate, but he was certainly compliant.
Bertha leaned back in her chair, a sigh escaping her lips. "Well, they can read, right?" she muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the reports. "No one said they had to be fluent."
She had argued with herself for some time. They're loyal. They're obedient. That counts for something. She rationalized. Besides, I can train them. I can teach them what they need to know.
After a final, internal debate, she made her decision. "Alright," she declared, her voice firm. "Fred and Ben. They'll be my new subordinates."
She knew it wasn't ideal. She knew they weren't exactly the most qualified candidates. But they were available, they were willing, and they were easy to command. And right now, that was enough.
Bertha, with a sigh of resignation, began to compose a letter to her superior. She knew she couldn't simply state, "I recruited the two least illiterate goat herders I could find." She needed to be… diplomatic.
She chose her words carefully, crafting a letter that was both elaborate and roundabout. She emphasized Ben and Fred's "unwavering loyalty," their "practical field experience" (which mostly involved handling goats), and their "eagerness to learn." She highlighted their "unique understanding of the local populace" and their "dedication to the mission."
She delicately omitted any mention of their limited literacy, instead focusing on their "resourcefulness" and "adaptability." She concluded by stating that, after a thorough evaluation of the available candidates, she had determined that Ben and Fred were the "most suitable" individuals for the position.
She sealed the letter, hoping her superior would interpret the flowery language as a sign of her dedication and not as a desperate attempt to cover up her lack of better options.
Bertha finished her letter, checking it meticulously, scrutinizing every word and phrase until she was satisfied. She sealed the envelope, the crisp paper a stark contrast to the rough, calloused skin of her hands.
She leaned back in her chair, the fading light of the setting sun casting long shadows across her office. A wave of contemplation washed over her, a quiet moment of reflection on her unexpected path.
Bertha had never envisioned herself as a government agent. Her life was supposed to be simple, predictable. Her parents had always imagined her following in their footsteps, either taking over the family bakery or pursuing a career in local politics, like her father. Marriage and children were also part of the plan, a traditional life in the quiet village of Oakhaven.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans. She had stumbled into this world of secret missions and hidden agendas, a world far removed from the simple life she had anticipated. She wondered how her parents would react if they knew the truth, if they knew their daughter was a secret agent, tasked with protecting the kingdom from unseen threats. She suspected they'd be both proud and terrified.
A wry smile touched Bertha's lips as she recalled the true catalyst for her current predicament. It wasn't some burning desire to serve the kingdom or an innate talent for espionage. No, it was something far more mundane: a handsome man.
She'd been bored with the quiet predictability of village life, yearning for something more. She dreamed of the bustling city, the vibrant energy, the opportunities that lay beyond the familiar fields of Oakhaven.
Then, he appeared. A charming, attractive man, with a captivating smile and a persuasive voice. He'd seemed genuinely interested in her, in her potential. He spoke of a secret organization, of important work, of a chance to make a real difference. And, most importantly, he made her feel seen, valued.
Foolishly, she'd believed his flattery, his carefully crafted words. She'd interpreted his interest as romantic, a spark of attraction that mirrored her own. When he asked her to join the government agency, she'd jumped at the chance, eager to impress him, to prove herself.
She'd been naive, of course. The man's interest was purely professional, a calculated move to recruit a capable agent. But by the time she realized her mistake, she was already entrenched in the world of espionage, her life forever changed.
A bitter laugh escaped Bertha's lips. The irony of her situation was almost comical. She had dreamed of escaping Oakhaven, of leaving behind the familiar routines and the stifling small-town atmosphere. She had joined the government agency as a ticket to a more exciting life, a life in the bustling city.
And what had she gotten? An assignment letter placing her right back in her own village. She was trapped, a prisoner of her own desires. She wanted to leave, but she couldn't. She was bound to her post, unable to leave without her superior's permission.
Worse still, she couldn't simply quit. She was bound by oaths and obligations, trapped in a job she hadn't truly wanted, a job that kept her tethered to the very place she longed to escape.
"Karma," she muttered, the word heavy with resignation. "This has to be karma." She had been so eager to leave, so desperate for something more, and now, she was stuck, her dreams of the city fading into a distant, unattainable horizon.
A sliver of consolation appeared amidst Bertha's frustration. At least she had been granted a disguised role, a cover identity as a goat farm supervisor. It wasn't the glamorous city life she had envisioned, but it did offer a measure of control.
"At least I can order people around," she murmured, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. The thought of wielding authority, of being the one in charge, brought a small sense of satisfaction. It was a far cry from the freedom she imagined in the city, but it was something.
She couldn't deny the small thrill of being able to delegate tasks and make decisions. It was a welcome distraction from the weight of her responsibilities as a secret agent, a brief respite from the complexities of her double life. She could be the boss, the one who called the shots, at least within the confines of her goat farm. "Heh... heh..." she chuckled softly, a touch of mischievousness in her voice.
Bertha rose from her chair, the day's frustrations weighing heavily on her shoulders, and prepared to head home. As she walked down the road, she noticed a figure standing in the middle of the path, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun.
It was Gordon. And he was reading a book.
Bertha stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in disbelief. Gordon? Reading a book? she thought, her mind reeling. Since when does Gordon read? Can he even read?
She stared at him, her confusion growing. Gordon, the village hero, the boy who now seemed perpetually lost in his own world, was standing in the middle of the road, absorbed in a book. It was a sight that defied all logic and expectation.
She approached Gordon, her curiosity piqued, but also laced with a healthy dose of suspicion. "Gordon," she called out, her voice slightly raised, "what are you doing standing in the middle of the road?"
Gordon looked up from his book, his eyes widening dramatically. He gestured expansively with his free hand, his expression bordering on theatrical. "Can't you see?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with an almost exaggerated enthusiasm. "I'm immersed in the story! Lost in the pages! Transported to another world!"
His tone was so over-the-top, so unlike his usual quiet demeanor, that Bertha felt a surge of irritation. She clenched her fists, a sudden urge to punch him rising within her. Immersed in the story? she thought, her eyes narrowing. He's trying to be dramatic.
"Since when can you read?" Bertha asked, her curiosity overriding her annoyance. She couldn't help but be genuinely surprised.
"Since long ago," Gordon replied, his theatrical tone still present. "How come you don't know?"
The exaggerated delivery, combined with the implication that she was somehow ignorant, pushed Bertha over the edge. Her irritation boiled over, and she threw a punch at Gordon's face.
Gordon, however, reacted with surprising agility. Ever facing formidable foes like the Hag and the High Priestess had honed his reflexes. He easily dodged the blow, his eyes widening slightly at her sudden outburst.
Instead of showing fear or surprise, Gordon's lips curled into a mischievous grin, a playful glint in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying Bertha's sudden outburst. His reaction only fueled Bertha's anger, making her even more ferocious.
She launched a flurry of punches, each one aimed with surprising force, but Gordon effortlessly evaded them all, his movements fluid and precise. He weaved and dodged, his body moving like water, avoiding every blow.
Frustrated, Bertha shifted her tactics, launching a circular kick, but Gordon simply sidestepped it. Undeterred, she followed with a front kick, a side kick, and a curved kick, each one delivered with increasing speed and power. But Gordon, with his enhanced reflexes and combat experience, easily avoided every single attack.
Bertha's frustration simmered, her attacks consistently meeting thin air. "Damn you!" she yelled, her face reddening. "Stop moving so I can punch your annoying face!"
Gordon, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, simply replied, "It's okay."
A surge of playful bravado filled him. "But," he added, his eyes twinkling, "if you fail to hit me again, you have to take turns standing still to receive my attacks." He was clearly enjoying himself, relishing this rare occasion to made fun Bertha.
"You are dead meat!"