You know the Drill: I don't own any of the following but the plot. And even that I am willing to rent out.
"Vimes, I don't think you are hearing me. What did I just say?" said Vetinari, angrily. "This really is most important!"
Commander Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork city watch looked out the window of the oblong office. Another day, another report to the Patrician. So it went. Little Sam would be turning three today, now what to get him, what to get him? Perhaps a small crossbow? No, still a bit early for that... "What, sir?"
"Commander! Really! I have repeated myself twice. You really must stop the Troll drug trade! It's leading to more and more civil unrest. Makes the Troll who takes the Slab or whatever feel he can take on the whole dwarvish population! Far to many people have died! The whole dwarvish community is up in arms, and you seem content to just sit and watch!" Vetinari breathed heavily. Vimes was just getting, well, complacent! He had gone far to long without a serious shock, Vetinari felt. He had lost his edge. He wasn't angry.
"Sir, I will put my best men on it, sir," Vimes replied. Amazing, how time flew, Sam seemed to have been born yesterday. And how he was coming along! He'd already learned the groin was a good place to kick someone, back in his terrible twos... and now he was growing up so fast... and Sybil and Vimes could only watch and care and love. Sybil! She never seemed to age... while his old bones felt every day like the last; painfully. Perhaps it was time to think about retiring... "What was that, sir?"
"I said that the Istanzian ambassador does not appear to have gotten the message that the Smarl river is not to be crossed? I thought that you were going to tell him at the Venturi's ball, weren't you?" Vetinari had put on his furious face, which, unfortunately for Vimes, looked just like every other face he owned.
"Damn! I knew something had slipped my mind. Sorry, Sir, will get right on it." So, maybe a fake sword for young Sam? Yes...
"Slipped your mind? SLIPPED YOUR MIND?" Vetinari lost control for a moment, then regained it. "Sir Samuel, this is unacceptable!"
"I am sorry, lord. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some shopping to do for my boy." Vimes turned to leave.
Vetinari then knew what he must do. "No," he said, calm as a tomb, "No, you are not excused. Vimes, you have not been doing your job for the last year! Crime is up, Ankh-Morpork's world position is slipping, and it is all your fault! Because of you, Omnia thinks we approve of their religion! They spout it all over the Circle Sea, the Duke of Ankh-Morpork approves of Omnianism! Because of your lack of effort, three damn MURDERS, not suicides, have gone unsolved in the last year! Indeed, for the whole last year your performance has been shoddy at best! Damn it man, what is wrong?"
"Murders take time, milord, and all I did was say I approve of Corporal Visit to the Omnian ambassador! You are clearly not yourself, milord, I will be leaving." Vimes was a little scared. This, from Vetinari? What was happening?
"No, it is you who are not yourself. I made you, Vimes, and I can bring you back down to where I found you, in the gutter!" Vetinari had to proceed very carefully. The man had no IDEA what a strain he had become.
" You made ME? I think not! The only thing you did was give me a chance! All that I have, my family, that is thanks to me! You can not claim credit for Sybil or Sam or any member of the watch today! All you did was make me Captain of the Night watch! I didn't deserve that, I know, but EVERY THING since, I have earned, with sweat, blood, and tears!" Vimes had lost it. How dare the man claim credit for his life?
Vetinari had to choose his next words with the utmost care. "I promoted you, I made you Commander, Knight, and Duke! If it were not for me making you captain of the Night Watch, you would not be where you are today! You would never have met Sybil! Speaking of which, it seems your family has become a distraction. If you do not improve, I shall have to do something about them!" Vetinari hoped he would not regret his words.
Vimes stood stock still, staring at the Patrician with what could only be called utter loathing in his eyes, and jumped right at his enemy, oh yes, his enemy now, and landed heavily on the Patricians chest, knocking him to the floor. He had his sword drawn before he landed. Luckily the Patrician knew nothing about street fighting... "NEVER threaten my family, or it will be the last thing you EVER do!" Vimes roared. But what was poking him in the stomach?...
"I suggest, Commander, that you consider what is of more risk to your family: a mere threat or this," wheezed the Patrician coldly, holding a dagger to Vimes belly.
So the man did know some street fighting after all... Vimes' anger subsided, for the moment, and he got up. The Patrician did the same.
"Explain yourself, Vetinari. Now."
"I am sorry, Commander. My temper got away from me. I have been under considerable stress lately. I do hope you will forgive me," Vetinari said, straightening out his robe.
"You threatened my family," Vimes seethed, unable to let it go.
"I am sorry. I did not mean it. I need you, Vimes. Without you, this city would fall apart."
"My family."
"Vimes. Please. To me, the city is much more important than any person or family. It is greater than any man or woman or child. It is. You must understand this."
"Alright. I understand. You bastard." Sheathing his sword, Vimes stalked out, an expression of deepest loathing on his face.
Vetinari sighed, and leaned against the wall. His clerk, Drumknott, walked in.
"Milord? What happened? The Commander looked as though he could kill!"
Thank goodness for soundproof walls. "I had to, Drumknott. I threatened everything he loves. I had to. If Vimes loses his edge, the city is doomed," I just wish I did not have to do it that way, Vetinari thought. "Its over, anyway. Bring me Clerk Brian's report, would you?"