Page 58 of The Orc's Protection
The idea doesn’t make me anxious.
It makes me feel lighter.
Chapter Twenty
Vraag
The district security committee meeting room feels stifling despite its generous size. I stand at parade rest near the door—a habit from integration training that suddenly feels less like discipline and more like theater.
Seven humans in business attire sit along one side of the conference table, their expressions ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled discomfort. Principal Winters occupies the chair nearest Superintendent Cooper, her posture rigid as she reviews her notes.
They’ve been discussing me for twelve minutes as if I’m not present. Standard procedure in these reviews—security personnel speak only when directly addressed.
“While we certainly appreciate Mr. Vraag’s vigilance in apprehending the intruder,” Superintendent Cooper continues, “the methods employed have raised concerns among some parents and staff. District Protocol 7 requires security personnel to contact a supervisor before intervening in any non-emergency situation and to announce their presence before physically engaging. Mr. Vraag acted unilaterally and without announcement.”
Concerns about my methods. Not that I stopped a professional criminal. Not that I caught something everyone else missed. Just how I looked doing it. The familiar frustration of a lifetime’s worth of integration burns in my chest, but underneath it runs something steadier: gratitude for the one person who hasn’t raised concerns. Riona.
“The individual was a professional thief with prior convictions,” Board Member Hildebrandt points out, reviewing the police report. “And no excessive force was used according to the official statement.”
Andrews pleaded out within forty-eight hours. The blueprints and burglary tools were enough.
“Physical force isn’t the only concern,” Principal Winters interjects. “Several witnesses described Mr. Vraag’s demeanor as ‘threatening’ and ‘intimidating.’ One parent said her child was frightened by the incident.”
“The child was frightened by a strange man breaking into their school, not by the security guard stopping him,” a voice states firmly from the doorway.
All heads turn as Riona enters, professional in a navy dress but with unmistakable determination in her stride. The leather band Torgun gave her is visible on her wrist, and she has not tried to hide it. She knew exactly what room she was walking into.
“Ms. Walker,” Principal Winters says, surprise evident in her tone. “This is a closed security review.”
“As the teacher whose classroom was targeted multiple times, I believe I have a relevant perspective to offer,” Riona responds, taking the empty seat directly across from Principal Winters. “Especially since it appears you’re discussing intimidation tactics without addressing the actual security breach that was prevented.”
She said she would come. I believed her. And still—there is a difference between knowing someone will stand with you and watching her do it in real time, in this room, in front of these people.
I maintain my position. I maintain my expression. It costs more than it should.
“Very well,” Superintendent Cooper concedes after a moment. “Please share your perspective, Ms. Walker.”
Riona straightens, teacher mode fully engaged. “For weeks, Mr. Vraag documented security concerns regarding my classroom windows. He requested reinforcements after identifying a pattern that suggested targeted attempts rather than random vandalism. These recommendations were repeatedly delayed or minimized until he apprehended the actual perpetrator—who,I’d like to remind everyone, had tools specifically designed to steal nearly ninety thousand dollars of equipment from our school.”
She pauses, making eye contact with each committee member. “The ‘intimidation’ you’re concerned about is exactly what stopped a professional criminal from succeeding. Mr. Vraag didn’t use excessive force. He used his presence—his natural, undiminished presence—to maintain control of a potentially dangerous situation until authorities arrived.”
Superintendent Cooper clears his throat. “We appreciate your input, Ms. Walker. However, school security personnel must maintain appropriate methods that don’t create anxiety among students or parents.”
“And what exactly are ‘appropriate methods’?” Riona challenges. “Because from where I stand, appropriate methods are ones that actually work.”
The tension in the room thickens. Principal Winters leans forward. “Ms. Walker, I understand your concern, but there are established protocols—”
“Protocols that failed repeatedly,” Riona interrupts. “Until Mr. Vraag chose effectiveness over appearance.”
Superintendent Cooper turns to me directly. “Mr. Vraag, what is your response to these concerns about your approach?”
Eight years of integration training have prepared me for this moment. The expected response: acknowledge the concerns,promise greater attention to human comfort levels, recommit to integration protocols that prioritize invisibility over effectiveness.
I can’t do it.
“Since I began my security career.” My voice is steady but undiminished, “I have followed the rules and expectations perfectly. I have modulated my voice to avoid sounding threatening. I have adjusted my stance to appear less imposing. I have prioritized human comfort over optimal security effectiveness in every interaction.”
Another step carries me forward as something fundamental shifts within me with each word.
