"In other news, Fredrick Tortelli, infamous Hollywood film producer, finally started his murder trial today. Tortelli is accused of killing his wife, former actress Barbara Monroe-Tortelli, nearly one year ago in their Brentwood home. This tragedy came to pass the same day Tortelli was found not guilty of several domestic abuse charges. Police believe Tortelli, once freed from jail, tracked down his late wife and killed her as punishment for testifying against him. Tortelli is represented by the firm of famed attorney Mitchell Sanchez, after the movie mogul's previous attorney V--"

Naga stopped the video and dropped her phone onto the passenger seat beside her. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Seated in the driver seat, the Warlock wasn't happy.

It wasn't simply the reminder of her past personal failure, though that moral mistake would haunt her for a very long time. It was that, after a year of training and gaining full membership among the thearchs, her master was sending her away.

The Silver Ladder lacked a presence in Sacramento, and so the Los Angeles Deacon had decided someone needed to go represent the Order there.

"I'm to be a damn benchwarmer," Naga chuckled and shook her head. As much as she had been working to temper her ambition, the assignment still rankled at first. She was only an Acolyte, so naturally they didn't expect her to do much besides simply hold down the fort for the Order.

A small smile curled her lips. Her Master, however, had hinted that this was also an opportunity to prove herself. A ladder was easier to climb if no one was directly above you. Ambition was not a bad thing, of course, as long as it was balanced with humility. Be the Sage, not the Lion.

The humbleness would come quickly. She was done aiding the rich and powerful. She's experienced first hand the results of her unfettered greed. Now would be a shift of gears in her professional life. Lawyer to the poor and downtrodden. Free them of life's mundane oppression at the hands of the entitled. Bring them closer to Awakening.

The Mastigos looked about her new, cheaper vehicle to double-check that everything was packed. The luxury sports car was gone. The house awaiting her in Sacramento was nice, but not as big as the one she was leaving. Her new clients were not going to pay anywhere near as well as the millionaires she used to represent. The belt required some tightening for the near future.

"Alright. Enough feeling sorry for myself," she said, turning on the engine.

It was a long drive upstate.