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"Nine to Five" (Greenhill) 7:06 am. Greenhill Tax Code. 9:14 am. Meeting with Greenhill Academy staff regarding current curriculum. 10:30 am. Resumed work on the Tax Code. 11:50 am. Go through paperwork needed for construction of new road outside city. 1:17 pm. Hungry. Modifications on office cabinet system. 2:46 pm. Preparations for a general council meeting regarding Highland border mishaps. Where's the damn pizza delivery boy? The office itself was cheery in appearance, with high solid oak doors, and an assortment of tasteful ornamentation; from the wall-to-wall tapestry that adorned the polished marble walls; to the expensive paintings and portraits of revered leaders of the past, pictured in their prime, those who made their way into the world and made it a better place. It overlooked the better part of town, with its rolling hills and greenery, a lush landscape that had earned it its current name. It was the best that the prestigious Greenhill Academy staff can offer to their popular leader as a temporary workplace, and if anyone knew what was the best, it was the Greenhill Academy. Teresa however, paid scant attention to trivial matters like beauty, aestheticism and pretty scenery. Rubbing away the desire to sleep ... a futile effort ... from her eyes, she sat, hunched over her desk, intent on finishing whatever paperwork requires attention that day, to clear space for the new stacks of paperwork that will undoubtedly appear on the morrow. A sudden low growl wafted through the room, leaving a faint echo on the walls; all the more ominous perhaps, because it had originated from her stomach. The pizza boy was *not* going to be getting a good tip. Ignoring her hunger, Teresa concentrated on the work at hand. She'd been at it for hours now, and yet she still had so much to do, so much she must do today. So what if she'd had under four hours of sleep during the past five days? She could rest later, when all the political riffraff had subsided. Possibly. Hopefully. Shoving back her chair with a loud screech that did nothing for her temperament, Teresa headed for the bathroom to wash the weariness off her face, if she could. Taking one look at the mirror, it was all she can do to keep from wincing. Her hair hung limply, a mass of white-blond scraggles around her face, which was pale and noticeably thinner, and there were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, normally a deep blue. She tried a smile. That made her look even worse. With a muttered sigh, Teresa pushed the rest of her hair away from her face, and tied them into a short ponytail. "You look like hell." She told her image in the mirror, before returning to the pile of work that still lay before her. En route to her desk, her shoe made contact with something that crackled. Looking down, Teresa realized that she had treaded on some report sheets that had somehow blew loose. "Not my day." She muttered, bending down to scoop them up. Plunking back down on her seat, she quickly scanned them, her brows furrowing even more with every line she read. She remembered this report now. Emilia herself had gone up to her office to hand them to her instead of sending some other lackey, which meant that whatever it was, it was serious. And it was a report sent by an informer who was scouting along the Higland border. Teresa bit her lip. Trouble at Highland. Rumors of a massacre of a youth brigade, blamed on one, if not all the City-States. Peace treaty close to falling apart. What the hell is Ruka Bright doing? Teresa groaned. The other City-States must be taking steps to protect themselves as well. Ruka Bright isn't exactly known for his kindness. One hand found a fountain pen; the other, the loose sheaf of papers where she listed appointment dates and schedules to keep. Important note: hold a general staff meeting tomorrow at the Academy Hall. Emergency. Hold another meeting on a later time at the grove, with the Eyes-and-Ears. Underground, as always. She set the report aside, turning her head to stare out the window. It looked so peaceful; she felt a flash of pride everytime tourists remarked on how Greenhill would be the perfect setting for a postcard or resort ad. But trouble was brewing now, she was sure of it. Her father Alec had trained her in this, groomed her to take over after he was gone. He taught her to look past what she could see and look deeper within, to know her opponent's cards before even looking at the hand she was dealt. Even now, her father's words came coursing once more through her head, an old saying he himself had learned in his childhood. Trick me once; shame on you. Trick me twice; shame on me. She will not fail him. Teresa closed her eyes. First things first. She'll finish her work today; she'll have time to worry about Highland tomorrow, when the meeting starts. Sometime later, the pizza delivery boy arrived to find the acting mayor of Greenhill soundly asleep; arms folded on the table, head nestled comfortably atop them. Standing before a real-life celebrity, he wasn't comfortable enough to wake her up and ask for the money she owes; he left the box on a side table standing nearby and quietly made his way out of the room, deciding that his boss would understand his dilemna and put it on her tab. Besides, she looked so peaceful sleeping, and he didn't have the heart to disturb that.
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