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Every mission might be your last mission. Every agent knew that, but that didn't make it any easier when it happened. Narvin hadn't expected to become Coordinator, at least he hadn't expected it so soon. It felt like a bad dream, only there was no escape.
The room had decended into a stifling silence. He winced as he remembered how everyone had started looking at him with a mixture of pity and respect. The same people who had drunk and laughed with him only a few spans ago had mumbled excuses and hurriedly left the room.
His robes felt too tight and he pulled at his collar. He didn't feel like a Coodinator. Part of him was still waiting for Vansell to give him orders, but the other part of him knew that he would be the one giving orders now.
As he walked through the corridoors of the Agency, others bowed. The weight of his new position started to sink in. He was the Coordinator now. There would be no more late nights drinking, no more joking around. He had to watch himself now. Raising his hand and clasping his hands behind his back, he walked outside. There was something he needed to do.
Narvin had seen Vansell's wife, but he had never spoken to her. They weren't the type to display affection openly, but it was clear that they were very fond of each other.She was a sweet thing and if she had to hear the news, he'd rather she heard it from him that from some carless gossiper in the street. He pulled at his collar again as he reached the door, but it didn't ease the feeling of airlessness.
"Hello, Narvin. Is Vansell back?" Clearly she didn't know.
He looked her straight in the eye. This wasn't going to be easy. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
