Starfall (Sci-Fi/No Harem/Isekai/No OP/)

RiP · Aug 29, 2023

What could be better than waking up young and rich? Our contemporary named Alex wakes up - in another world and another man's body. In the body of his lordship Alessandro Cassard, Lord of the Star Empire, who has just been completely assassinated. Is it easy to be a lord when you know nothing about the vast mastered galaxy in which you find yourself, the assassins do not leave attempts to complete what they started, and the surfacing details about Lord Cassard's past threaten the execution?

T.N. Translation of the original novel by Alex Flim. Link to the original.
Link to the Royal Road.

Our hero, after making an internet bet about transmigrator success, finds himself in the body of a just-assassinated decadent super-rich young nobleman in a space empire far from home. But instead of getting to live it up with all the attractive young women around him, he has to cleverly navigate his way around their attempts to control, seize, suborn, or shackle his fortune, status, and person.

There are some hints of psi powers in the setting, but nothing besides intrigue and high-stakes power plays has appeared so far. The Russian-style MC is a classic fit for this kind of narrative, and besides some awkwardly double-narrated events in POV switches the storytelling is excellent. The translation has a few glitches, but fewer than the English errors in your typical RR venture.

Really amusing and a good pick to translate.

RiP · Mar 20, 2023

* * *

"And then, Your Lordship, you had the pleasure of swearing in unknown words..."

"Well, that's good - so no one understood!"

"Well, it would have been if it hadn't been for a protocol droid being nearby!"

There was a carefully concealed shadow of gloating on my "Security Officer's" face: the only acceptable way to avenge her lord and fate was telling the truth. That was not exactly what the soul craved (a good kick would have been better), but the wise could rejoice in small things. And the security officer considered herself a wise person.

"And what did this droid... record?" I asked cautiously.

"He did not record at the moment, Your Lordship. But what you call Baron Kouifi he did translate," the girl glanced at the tablet in her left hand and recited with a certain solemnity and almost undisguised pleasure. "By the male sex organ of a large mammal who dares to wake me, and also by the female sex organ with increased hairiness of the legs or lower limbs, who should immediately be removed by the method of performing sexual intercourse with all those around!"

"Wow, that's quite a twist! What about the Baron?"

The Baron said that the only thing that saved your life was that he accurately identified the type of poison. This neurotoxin has a strong effect on thinking and memory, and had it not been for this circumstance, the duel would have taken place immediately, despite his advanced age and despite your lamentable condition.

It's embarrassing, hurting the old man for nothing, while he saved my life... Anyway, what the hell with him, he's not in the mood now - we're going to audit everything...

So... I'm in a room the size of a medium-sized football pitch - the setting is reminiscent of Louis, Versailles, and the smart word "baroque". I'm lying on a bed about five meters across, simply bursting with all sorts of fancy trinkets. The bed and the rest of the furniture are in two colors: white and red. White ranges from snowy to platinum, while red degrees from purple to bright scarlet.

Above my head was a domed ceiling with an epic battle scene: against a background of explosions, flames, and a pile of bodies in incomprehensible armor, a bloodied and eerily heroic young man with a burning gaze as if calling... probably to attack. He had no armor on. Instead of a weapon, he use a tattered and scorched scarlet flag, on which stood a white heraldic beast, a griffin apparently. The wall in front of the bed was missing, replaced by a full-length window. The window was filled with white clouds and the green tops of some vegetation.

In the room, there was also a blond girl of the most determined appearance, dressed in a red and white... tunic? livery? And some kind of machine, most reminiscent of the props from the seventies movie "Killer Robots from Mars".

To my legitimate question - "Who are you?" - the girl introduced herself as a "personal security specialist" and described the mysterious machine as a "medical droid". And all this around, if she was to be believed, was my bedroom in my private estate, where I had been taken after an attempted poisoning.

The question remains: why would anyone want to poison me, Alexander Flim? Or just Alex, a twenty-four-year-old Moscow resident, Russian citizen, unemployed, unaccounted for, uninvolved, institutional, and so on and so forth... And where did I get a castle and a "personal security specialist" with a droid? Excuse me - a medical droid...

* * *

The day ended in a perfectly mundane way. Having finished creating new businesses in AdWords, I went to Azugl to see how much I had earned. My joy at what I had earned was overshadowed only by the foreboding of the troubles associated with cashing out. But, in any case, it would be a pleasure. Somehow sleep did not come, so I started killing time in my favorite way: proving to someone on the Internet how wrong they were - an activity, absolutely pointless but bringing a lot of moral satisfaction.

It was a heated argument - I had long and persistently argued on the forum with someone called Nemezis that even if a person is transported to a completely unfamiliar world, everything depends only on their abilities, not their environment. If that environment allows a person to survive, at least in theory. There was no convincing win, so I jokingly agreed to "prove it in practice" and went off to bed, slightly annoyed.

And then I had a bad dream. I hadn't had a nightmare in the last twelve years - I'd been lucky - and then, suddenly! I was either falling or flying somewhere, a sea of lemon-yellow flame raging beneath me, with occasional giant waves of purple and gray smoke. I couldn't feel the heat, but I could feel myself getting more tired with every second.

A wave of purple, almost black, flames swept over me, and with it came darkness and heaviness. It got heavier and heavier, and I wanted to scream, but I couldn't even breathe. There was no sense of time - it seemed to go on forever. There was a sluggish hope in my mind that I would soon wake up, that I was about to wake up, and that would be it.

And so, when suddenly there was wild pain, light, and an incredible cacophony of sounds echoing in my skull, it was perceived as deliverance. There was a bright light in my eyes, some old man in a freakish turban was trying to pour some nasty stuff into my mouth, people were running around, shouting, and sirens were howling in the distance.

I pushed the old man away with the last of my strength and fell into oblivion.

* * *

Taer sat by the bedside of her lord, trying to figure out what was going to happen to her next. In the four days since the assassination attempt, she had thought many things over and exhausted her nerves almost completely. It was only on the third day the ray of hope for an awakening began to flicker.

At first, everyone thought the lord was about to die. This meant, at the very least, an end to her career and most an accusation of complicity with the prospect of hard labor (at worst) or a firing squad (at best). She spent three days without sleep and began to resemble her own shadow.

And, yes, she wasn't the only one getting on her nerves - there was someone to help her with that, there was...

She was questioned eight or ten times a day. On the way to the hospital. The police... Extremely polite and pale at the prospect of investigating the Lord's murder, fearful of incurring the wrath of the Great Houses with both successful and unsuccessful investigations.

In the hospital corridor outside the emergency room, she was approached by men with 'House Fyron's own Intelligence' credentials and made transparent hints about her fate if important information left the family. And then, a series of interrogations and threats coalesced into a huge lump of problems that seemed about to crush Taer and change the once successful young guard into a miserable convict. Or a grave with the prisoner's number instead of a name.

She was interrogated by everyone:

Sector Rangers. Who seems to have just happened to be in the area and decided to look for contraband here, just in case. Or the showdown of those who controlled the smuggling. Her reserve of aplomb and Guardian impudence was still enough to quickly dismiss these upstarts.

Then there was the Guardia's Internal Investigation Service. These tried to frighten her. They were very interested in the degree of her competence. They claim it was only possible to poison the lord with her assistance. Taer erupted, yelled at them, threatened to challenge them to a duel, and reminded them that as long as the lord lived, she was under his hand and out of their jurisdiction. The counter-intelligence men, smirking rancorously, departed, and promising to continue the conversation "after all formalities with the lord have been completed". She could barely keep herself from pulling out her blaster and shooting them on the spot.

But that was just the beginning - it didn't take long for the berries to appear.

At night - she had heard that nighttime was a favorite time for such visits - the second day, the Imperial Security Service came to her. Three burly men in civilian clothes and a Stack-lieutenant in a black SS uniform. In the boots instead of shoes, as if from a parade.

After showing their IDs, they asked her to surrender her weapon. In response to Taer's question, "Am I under arrest?" they were ominously silent. She was handcuffed and taken to the black six-seater aerocar waiting outside the hospital.

Then some shouted at her and threatened her with hard labor, execution, prison, and dismissal from the Guard. Others talked heart-to-heart, persuaded her, offered her drinks, offered to help and patronize her, and reminded her of her honor as a Guardsman.

She had not been beaten or injected with Lim's serum, so Taer drew two conclusions: first, the lord was still alive; second, there had been no authorization for her arrest, and she was still "detained until further investigation", which was, in theory, against a member of the Great House Guards.

The interrogations continued for twelve hours: every two hours, interrogators changed, but Taer was still the same. She sluggishly fought the interrogators off, feeling more and more groggy by the hour. And she was already beginning to look at the blaster in the holster of another interrogator with a wicked interest, thinking, "I wonder if I can snatch the gun from him, shoot the bastard and shoot myself before the security guards react..." When suddenly, the angel of salvation appeared.

The door swung open, and Countess Darlurl gracefully burst into the interrogation room, smiling at those present. She had always burst in for as long as Taer could remember her. She was followed by the crayfish-red Chief of Security on the Capeira Stack-major Sheldon. Holding up her dress, the Countess found herself beside Taer, glared at her, and, with a wave of her arms, began to scold Sheldon:

"Release this poor creature immediately!"

"But, Countess, look, she may be part of a conspiracy and..."

"I don't want to hear anything! Immediately!" The Countess raised her voice two octaves and stomped her foot menacingly.

The almighty SS clashed with the Nobility. Sheldon puffed up even more:

"This may be a dangerous criminal and a valuable witness!" The major started to get worked up and finally broke down into a shout. "You have no right!"

I wonder if it will burst or not? Taer thought aloof as she watched the scene.

The Countess approached the scarlet-haired SS chief and, extending her hand so that the Major could get a proper look at the ring, shouted no more quietly than he did:

"I am IN MY RIGHT here!" the Countess lowered her tone, almost hissing. "If you do not release her immediately..."

Classy vocal ability, Taer languidly observed.

Stack-major somehow deflated, as if the air had been blown out of him:

"Take her! But know this, I won't leave it like this... Governor.”

The Countess did not let Sheldon speak and, smiling radiantly, led the Taer out of this branch of hell.

Later, in the flyer, Countess Darlurl showed the Privy ring to the Taer as well, hinting that both the Consulat and the Privy would be very upset if the shadow of suspicion fell on anyone from House Fyron. And there was no need to "wash our dirty linen in public". Seeing the girl's reaction, the Countess moved closer to her and continued without any threat in her voice and a more trusting tone:

“Well, well, Guardsman, that's not a threat, that's a hint. Very useful and timely for you. Imperial Intelligence and Imperial Security, in their eternal attempts to outmaneuver each other, are diligently searching for conspiracies against the Emperor and the TAC terrorists. Even where there weren't any. They want something big so they can proudly bring it to the Imperial Council, and then, who knows, maybe they'll get it. They'd eat you alive if you gave them the slightest hint of weakness.”

The Countess snarled as if to show exactly how the poor Guardsman would be eaten and continued:

"And you take it easy - remember, for now, Sheldon only has Sector SS behind him and House Fyron behind us. Sheldon is not dangerous - the Governor will not support him, seeing that this threatens to bring down relations with the Great Houses. After all, he has a retirement in two years, and he'd really want that retirement to be an honorable one..."

Two hours later, Taer was already saying goodbye to the Countess, standing on the landing pad outside the Blue Flame Castle, which was normally used by the Lord as his country residence on Copeira, and where he had been brought from the hospital:

"I don't even know, Your Grace, how I can thank you for saving me..."

"Oh, come now, my dear! Just hint to your Lord, when he wakes up, that if it were not for me - he would not have his best Guardsman, and that thanks I prefer to take in the form of yachts of the first rank, or puppies of Worskl!" seeing a slightly confused Taer, Countess laughed resoundingly, and winked mischievously added." Just joking, guardsman, don't worry! You don't owe me anything. You don't have to shoot yourself!"

Patting her on the shoulder she disappeared out the door of the flyer.

The first person she saw in the castle was the steward. Weyang Barra, a slightly overweight but not yet old, is a short man with a luxurious mustache and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing the ceremonial livery of House Fyron, which, by its appearance, had been on for twenty-four hours. The turmoil of the attempted poisoning had not escaped him. His face was marked by fatigue, his eyes dulled, and he seemed perceptibly older. Remembering that she probably looked no better now, Taer suppressed the urge to tease Barra about his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Barra! Has the long arm of imperial justice reached you, too?" Taer wagged her fingers at her temple, a sort of vaguely military salute.

"I'm a modest bird; I was only interviewed by the police investigator yesterday. Not like you. I thought I was going to have to send parcels to you in prison," he smiled wearily.

"Why do you look so bad, then? And he's all crumpled up! Are you abusing the maids again?" Taer tried to think of a better joke, but it was all she could do at the moment. N-o-o-o-o, bed now! Or I'll bury my reputation for good! She decided.

"I'd rather be groping maids than this!"

After some brief questioning of Barra, it became clear that all the near and distant relatives and other potential heirs had turned up immediately upon hearing of the incident. The Lord never drew up a will, so the showdown began as soon as more than one heir arrived. For the next two days, the castle resembled a scorpion jar, and the noble lords preferred to vent their frustrations on Barra. Sympathizing with the butler, Taer quietly, using the back rooms, made her way to her bedroom and fell into bed. As she was, dressed.

She was awakened by a shrieking and, as usual, slightly panicky protocol droid, whose shouts made her realize that the Lord had not only regained consciousness but had even sworn at those present. Though in an unknown language. H2U4 immediately translated, causing an unhealthy commotion in the noble audience present. The Taer switched on the security terminal and activated the camera in the lord's bedroom, which she had covertly installed six months ago (no, no, she is not a pervert, but if you are going to ensure security, then ensure it everywhere!).

The Lord, lying on the bed, pushing off Baron Kouifi, and the professor urgently brought in from Riena University, who were trying to give him an injection. As he did so, the Lord swore floridly. The protocol droid standing beside him translated meticulously. With every word the lord spoke, the faces of the "heirs" present grew darker and darker. No, he did not touch them personally in his speech - it was addressed mainly to the baron and the professor - but with each word money and potential power flew further and further away from the potentially hereditary hands.

When the lord was transported from the emergency room to the castle, and it was clear that he was not going to die right away, it was hoped that it was just such a long agony. However, the medics said there was no reason to worry about his physical health. Neurotoxins are tricky, though, even if he survives, the lord stands a good chance of becoming a vegetable. He is not a bad thing either for the 'heirs'. A person in such a state would require a guardian. Now, the lord has made it abundantly clear that he has no intention of becoming a vegetable, for he swears quite deliberately and ingeniously (albeit in an unknown language) which means proving incompetence will be far more difficult. If at all.

I hope they wouldn't poison him a second time. Because of frustration. Or an accident with the medical equipment, Taer thought, quickly changing into fresh clothes.

I'll have to be a nurse, the girl decided as she stepped out into the corridor. She decided not to use the secret door between their bedrooms (one must always be able to intervene) so as not to expose it to the "heirs". She bumped into Lady Cayrin in the corridor and couldn't help but congratulate her on her third cousin's recovery, almost without hiding her gloating. The Baroness measured her with a cold stare and thanked her, promising, however, not to forget her care and to bestow it on her at the earliest opportunity. Yeah. This one definitely won't forget. and she will pay back. I have to control myself!

By the time Taer entered the bedroom the professor and baron's fight with the lord was over, and the latter was sleeping peacefully - the injection seemed to have taken its toll. The "heirs", trying to keep poker faces and appear cheerful, dispersed. Seeing the girl, the baron smiled, causing the wrinkles to form a bizarre network.

"Ahhhh, my dear Taer! You probably already know, don't you?"

"The droid informs me that the lord has regained consciousness and is speaking profanely of those present," Taer tried to keep her face as serious as possible, but her eyes were still laughing.

"Yes, when Professor Ayuyun started giving the injection, Allesandro woke up and said everything he thought about those who woke him up. I have to admit I learned a lot about myself! Where did he get it from? He had never had a taste for rare languages, that's for sure."

"The Lord has always had a talent for originally expressing his thoughts. Especially when he is in bad mood."

"Yes, but luckily you usually managed to stop him from doing that," Baron Kouifi winked at her amicably. "If it hadn't been for you, he would have been killed in duels for sure by now. Five or six times."

"I'm afraid you are exaggerating, Baron. I think the reason for the lack of calls was the lord's reputation. And he's always just refused. You know that."

"I'd call a duel on you if you were of noble birth. That's what Lord Reithy seemed to have said when the kid, while drunk, poured wine over him and called him a spongy brat, boasting of the antiquity of his wretchedness."

"Yes, sire, unfortunately, I was not able to stop him," her voice became darker; she did not like to talk about her failures.

"It's not your fault, clever girl! You've done what you could to keep the reputation of the Family and the House intact, unlike Alex. He's done everything he can to ruin it! All his drinking, his girls, his drunken escapades... And most importantly, in front of everyone! If it hadn't been for your he would have put on a halftime show," the Baron shook his head grimly. "The death of his parents had taken its toll on him. I was a friend of Galen's, and I swore I would look after his son, but it seems..."

"Sire, what is your assessment of the Lord's condition now, and when will he make a full recovery?" Taer made a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation.

"Well, it's hard to say. He's physically fully recovered now, but neurotoxins are insidious. We don't know how badly his thinking is affected. Maybe he'll wake up tomorrow as he was before, or maybe he'll be an idiot who only remembers swearing. We have to wait."

After escorting Baron Kuifi, who had urgent business in the capital, Taer waited, making sure that no one put anything in the medicine or even approached the lord. The wait was short-lived as the lord regained consciousness the next morning.

The girl was just checking the scanner when the lord suddenly opened his eyes, looked around, stopped his gaze on her, and asked:

"Who are you?"

"I am your personal security officer, Guardian Taer Diltar," the lord clearly did not recognize her - that could have caused problems.

"Bloody hell! Where am I?" He kept looking around dazedly.

"You are in your castle on Capeira, where you were taken after an attempted poisoning," Taer tried to speak as calmly as possible, but excitement cut through her voice.

"That's great! What the hell is that?" The lord pointed a finger at the Meddroid.

"A medical droid, Your Lordship."

"And who I am?"

"You are Lord Allesandro Cassard."

"Hmm... interesting. Listen, girl, has there ever been an old man in a purple turban like that around here?"

"Of course, he was, Your Grace. This is Baron Kouifi."

Thank God he remembers something.

"He also poured some nasty stuff in my mouth..."

"Yes, Sire, he was the first to determine that you were poisoned and administered the antidote that saved your life," Taer's voice brightened visibly. He is beginning to remember! I hope he remembers gradually.

"How long have I been here?" The lord was looking at her with noticeable interest, and the initial daze seemed to be gone, replaced by curiosity.

"Fourth day, sire," he said, making Taer look a little embarrassed, but she didn't show it. There's something strange about him. He usually doesn't notice me at all!

"What have I been doing here for four days?" He was already staring at her frankly.

That doesn't look like him at all!

"You lying down, sire, and then you deigned to swear in unknown words," the "security specialist" took the opportunity to explain exactly how the lord had sworn at those present... and who exactly.

That helped a little - he stopped staring at her, sat down on the bed, and in a bit of thoughtfulness, first pressed one eye with his thumb, then the other, and then began to pinch himself. Looks like I rejoiced too soon: the words about the idiot are beginning to come true, Taer thought in a slight panic and reached for the communicator to call the professor and his nurses-assistants.

* * *

RiP · Mar 20, 2023

Chapter 2

* * *

After looking around, I concluded that I was either hallucinating or still dreaming. As I remembered for sure that I was Alexander Flim, but not Allesandro Cassard! Well, hallucinations are hallucinations. I began to try all the ways I knew how to identify hallucinations. The first thing I did was to press on my eye - a glitch is not supposed to split, but I couldn't remember which eye to press on, so I pressed on both of them in turn. Then pinched me, looked alternately with my left and right eye, and as an apotheosis of my attempt, I stared at the girl and declared "Disbelief" mentally casting a "Will-save". Either the will-save failed or something else, but everything was duplicating, the pinches were hurting, and the girl was not disappearing. Watching my experiments, the beauty grew more and more serious, and when I attempted a "Disbelief" - pulled out some sort of mobile phone and called some kind of doctor. Well, that's it - the good doctor will come and give you a sedative, I thought to myself.

Less than half a minute passed, and the door swung open. Two girls in white dressing gowns with incomprehensible blue symbols on the left side of their chests, some tinny robot parody... and THAT rush into the room.

The THING wore a white dressing gown, was short, had an extremely slender build, and had large green eyes on an almost triangular head. No, it is more accurate to say that the eyes were HUGE, almost the size of a fist, with long dark lashes. The eyes took up most of the face, making the smallmouth and the small, flat nose almost impossible to see. This was completed by a goatee with small sideburns, ears sticking out sideways (somewhat like sheep's ears), and a small white cap.

"Damn! What's that!?" Alex recoiled and reflexively covered himself with the blanket, trying to huddle into the corner of the bed.

"This is Professor Ayuyun Lirria, a leading neurologist at Riena University. He observed you while you were unconscious," the girl shrugged slightly as if emphasizing how obvious this must be.

"I see you're feeling better now, young man! If I may, I'd like to examine you and ask you a few questions," the THING appeared to have a very high, birdlike voice, which was also quite pleasant to hear and melodious.

"The Lord is indeed much better off, Professor," Taer tried to put as much feeling into the word "Lord" as possible, hinting at the inappropriateness of the address "young man".

"Ahhhh... leave it, sweetheart, I don't discriminate between my patients," THE THING brushed off the "security specialist" with a nonchalant gesture.

THE THING... Or rather, the professor approached the bed and tried to take Alex's hand - must be to feel for a pulse (or what do doctors do with hands?), and it became apparent that Ayuyun Lirria's hands were four-toed with small claws on his thin fingers, which did not add to the desire to communicate.

So the novice lord, defending himself against the professor with a blanket - like shield, began to crawl back to the opposite side of the bed where Taer was standing.

"Don't you think the professor looks a little strange? Well, there... the eyes are a bit large..." Alex attempted to draw Taer's attention to the strangeness in the professor's appearance, thinking to himself: Oh, shit! And the glitches are getting worse. The monsters are coming!

The girl scrutinized the professor from head to toe and replied in a completely calm voice:

"No, sire, Professor Ayuyun looks perfectly normal for a myrlisty of his age."

"I mean, four fingers, eyes the size of a saucer - is that normal?"

"Perfectly normal for members of my race, young man!" The professor cornered Alex after all and was finally able to begin his examination. Quickly feeling his pulse and examining his pupils, he proceeded to question him, which revealed that Lord Allesandro remembered almost nothing except the occasional moments after his poisoning. When, at the professor's request, Alex began to describe what he thought had happened to him before the poisoning, the people around him began to react strangely. The professor asked his assistants to fetch an injector and some chemical vials, and the 'security specialist' began to squint in surprise.

Sensing that he was about to be heavily medicated and would not rest until he was healed half to death, the "lord" chose to quickly drop the subject, fighting back with the standard phrase "I don't remember anything". The questions went on for another hour or so, all with the same "I don't remember" answer. Finally, the professor was satisfied with the result - reality began to match his expectations.

"We seem to be dealing with widespread replacement amnesia, which has developed as a result of nerve damage caused by the active component of the poison," he put one hand behind his back and stared into the distance, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

"Perhaps, over time, the brain will create alternative circuits, bypassing the damaged areas, and the memory will return, albeit partially," he said, not addressing anyone in particular, but as if he were giving a lecture. Then suddenly. he shook his whole body and, addressing Alex personally, concluded:

"But congratulations, young man, you have survived a dose of Grey Dust (which is unique in itself) by getting away with a mere memory loss. That's a thing of the past, at your age, after all!" With a cheerful pat on the shoulder, the professor signaled to his assistants to assemble the equipment and, turning to the Taer, added:

"I recommend him to take Fenote regularly, two capsules a day. If there is no improvement, the dose can be increased to seven capsules a day," he held out a plastic tablet to the girl. A prescription or something?

"Thank you, Professor Ayuyun, I will make every effort to ensure that my lord takes this medicine regularly!"

"It's not a medicine. It's just... a mild memory and mental stimulant. That's all I can do in this case, so I'll take my leave," the professor scurried off, the girls scurrying about, packing up and carrying the equipment out of the room. Already at the door... myrlissti (So, like, right?) stopped and tossed over his shoulder:

"I wish you a speedy recovery! And if there are any problems, do not hesitate to contact me!"

Waiting until the door closed behind the doctors and he was alone with his 'specialist', Alex exhaled. Well, at least they won't take me to the clinic for tests if they don't catch me.

There was an awkward pause. Taer stood at attention, swaying slightly in her heels. And Alex wondered feverishly what he could say without getting caught.

"Does the security specialist always have to be with me?" With a little hope in his voice, he asked.

"Technically, as you wish, sire, but the Consulate is very insistent that I should always be with you when you go 'out'."

"But right now I don't seem to be going 'out', I'd like to be alone to 'collect my thoughts', maybe remember something," Alex said in as confident a tone as possible, What the hell am I talking about?

"Very well, my lord, I shall await the call in my room," the girl said coldly and walked out, stamping her step.

Once he was sure by the sound of the retreating footsteps that he was finally alone, Alex leaned back on the bed and surrendered to the thoughts that were pounding feverishly in his head:

Is she upset or something? Maybe we had something going on with her. After all, there's always a pretty girl around. Though if there was something, she'd probably have hinted, or not, proud as a daughter of savannahs, it seems...

Anyway, fuck the beauty, I'll apologize if I have to. Or don't lords apologize? Fucking hell!

Alex lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, where a dark-haired young man was calling after him, and chewing his fingernail thoughtfully.

OK, let's look at all the options. Option one: I, Alex Flim, from Moscow, am twenty-four years old, and so on and so forth, and I'm hallucinating. That's a sad scenario. Well, hopefully, at least the medics will have fun. Option two, I, Allesandro Cassard, ate some "dust," which made him lose his memory and hallucinate that he was Alex Flim. That's more fun. At least all this splendor runs under the heading of "objective reality", which is a joy in itself. But not much.

The lord was lying in bed for a while, continuing to chew on a nail that was almost finished, when his gaze focused on his finger... He examined the entire hand closely. It was a well-groomed, burr-free hand, with fairly long polished nails, something Alex had never done before, but most importantly... There was no small crescent-shaped scar on the back of the palm.

Remembering what had actually happened before he woke up in that castle, he mechanically slapped himself in the face.

There's also a third option: me, Alex Flim, who's been shoved into Allesandro Cassard's body by some fucker!

You shouldn't have agreed to the practice test, smart-ass! The inner voice sneered. All right, stop talking! As a psychologist to a psychologist, I say: the inner voice is the first sign of schizophrenia.

Alex lay there for a while, mulling over the idea of consciousness transfer. Finally, he made up his mind, threw back the dark red blanket, and headed toward the mirror.

The mirror was huge, almost as tall as he was, on a massive metal frame, covered in some kind of floral ornamentation. Spinning around in front of it and examining himself, he found out the following. First, he was completely naked and something had to be done about it. Second, there was a gorgeous fluffy carpet on the floor, which was very pleasant to walk barefoot. And third, the body was not his.

Yes, very similar, very similar: height, eye color, hair color, the shape of face and nose, even some belly due to the sedentary lifestyle - everything was there. But there were a lot of details, like the scar on his abdomen that he had earned as a child by diving directly into a broken jar, the chipped incisor was missing. And a couple of moles were in the wrong place.

Back in bed and crawling under the covers, Alex began to remember everything he remembered about the transfers and thought about the risks. The situation was bleak at first - the disadvantages were: he was not a paratrooper (in fact, he had never served in the army), not an expert in hand-to-hand combat (yellow - ha-ha! - Belt in karate and three years in the sambo section after five years of sitting behind a computer and the lack of training can easily be written in the section of pure theory), magic abilities also have not yet found (although he honestly tried to conjure something nice and move the mirror by gaze). He was hoping that Lord Allesandro's body could do something special, though, and he just didn't know it yet.

Well, enough about the cons! There were some pros: first, everyone spoke clear Russian, or at least he understood them without any problems. Second, there was a roof over his head and a roof that was not bad and even seemed to belong to him. Third, I was a lord here, and I think that was cool. Fourthly, there was no immediate threat to life, and, moreover, there was a pretty girl whose duty was to eliminate the threat.

Speaking of the girl... How can I get her to bring me some clothes? And I'm hungry already, the newly made lord started looking for a way to contact his "security specialist". Nothing resembled a telephone, switchboard, mobile phone, or, at the very least, a bell. He did not want to wander around the castle naked, so he decided to shout, rightly believing that security must be somewhere near and respond to his wailing.

* * *

RiP · Mar 22, 2023

Chapter 3

* * *

Taer sat in her room and was angry.

She dragged the hog up to the aerocar, stayed up all hours while he was passed out, went through interrogations... And what? Nothing!

"I want to be alone, get my thoughts together," she mocked, turning on the security terminal.

"No, after all, I'm a modest girl, and I didn't expect to be accepted into the House Blades. Though they accepted for less than saving a lord's life. But at least he could have given me a hint about nobility! Anybody else would have been... eh!" The girl, sighing sadly, leaned back in her chair and, turning to the terminal, called up an image from the lord's bedroom. He was twirling in front of the mirror, seemingly admiring himself. This made Taer even angrier, and with the words, "What a smug jerk," she switched the terminal.

Yes, she was unlucky with the lord: her meteoric career crashed against Lord Allesandro like crystal dreams crashing against the harsh concrete of reality.

Taer was born and brought up in a small mining town, there were no prospects there. It was just a shithole. She'd received a scholarship to a public school in Riena, paid for by the retainer of House Fyron. They found the girl promising. She did her best to prove - there was no mistake. After school there was Riena University, then a navigator's course, and everywhere she was top of the class. A well-deserved reward was the epaulets of Peleng-Lieutenant in House Fyron's Naval Intelligence Service.

Three successful operations and a record in her personnel file: 'officer with an artistic and original approach', an invitation to the Guard, an intensive training course, and a year as a retainer. By the age of twenty-two, she was already a Guardsman of the 'inner circle' with a good chance of becoming a Captain in the next two or three years. It was an obscenely dizzying career that couldn't help but generate rumors. Given her looks, most of the rumors were more than ambiguous. However, two duels, one of which ended in her opponent's prosthetic arm, resulted in the rumors being quashed and a reprimand from the Ergo-Captain of the Guard.

All in all, things were going so well that they could not have gone any better, and when she was offered - to join the "arm" and the post of "personal security specialist" - she did not even hesitate and agreed. After all, the prospects were such that it was breathtaking: as everyone know, young nobles tend to grow up, and when they grow up, they take up positions. And she had not just been given an Earl, but a Lord! Which means a family representative in the Consulate, and then a place in the 'Privy'. And that's where they decide who, where, and what place will be occupied, and they prefer to appoint people close to them to important positions. So First Blade Taer, then Knight Taer Diltar, and then, who knows, by the age of thirty-five, Countess Diltar! That would be a good time to get busy with her personal life. But it was either fate or jealousy in the Guard that put her in harm's way. And then such a stopper!

Lord Allesandro Cassard. Completely, utterly uninterested in politics. And if only that. But by this point, he had quarreled with most of the powerful families of House Fyron and had acquired a reputation so scandalous it was doubtful whether it could be called a reputation! So Taer was doomed to remain a perpetual guard under Lord Allesandro.

"It could have been daim Taer Baron Diltar. Sounds good, doesn't it? Or even, daim Taer Lady Diltar. She was distracted from her pleasant thoughts of the possible title by the shouts from the next room.

"The lord seems to have forgotten where the communicator button is," she guessed and decided to make the most of that guess. First, she blocked the droids, then switched on the security terminal and, making sure no servants or guests were around, waited. The screams from the next room grew more pitiful by the minute.

"There was even a hint of despair in his lordship's voice," she remarked gloatingly.

After about eight minutes, the lord grew tired of shouting and made another attempt to find the communicator.

Well, I'll catch him with his butt naked as moral compensation, Taer thought and walked into the room, putting on her best protocol face possible.

Shit, how do I call her? Well, they didn't hide the phone under the bed! Still, it's worth seeing if that's how they do it. Alex squatted down to look under the bed when suddenly, "Did you call my lord?" came from behind him. Turning sharply, he saw Taer. A wall panel was sliding into place behind her (Nice castle I've got here, even the secret passages! he thought). He made a reflexive attempt to cover himself, then remembered: he is, after all, a lord, and there is nothing to be ashamed of maids.

"Security, are you always this quick to react? I'd have been stabbed a hundred times by now, or worse," he sat down on the bed and threw the blanket over his hips with the utmost carelessness.

"My lord, if you had used the comm or the servants' call button, I would have arrived immediately. If you had been attacked, the biomonitors in the bedroom would have detected the change in your physical status. When I received the signal, I would have reacted accordingly," Taer said, standing at attention with a completely impenetrable face.

"Look... Taer, eh? What do you want from a memoryless man? I don't remember anything: neither where the button is, nor what a comm is, nor how to use it," deciding that criticism was unnecessary in this case, "lord" decided to come at it from the other side.

The girl, keeping an impassive face, walked over to the bed and showed me where the button was (one of the trinkets on the bed was being pressed) and where the communicator was - Alex mistook it for a desk lamp.

"The communicator is switched on here, Your Lordship. The green channel is the link to the attendant on duty, and the red channel is the security service, i.e. me," showing how to turn on the communicator, Taer bent over and presented herself to the newly minted lord in a rather peculiar way. Interesting pinching the ass of a Guardsman and a security specialist - how is that? Is it allowed to noble lords, or is it going to be punched in the eye? To distract himself, he moved on to more practical matters. And, trying to put as much gratitude as he could into his words, he thanked:

"Thank you very much, Taer!"

"I am only doing my duty, my lord! I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you sooner!" The girl stretched out again.

"Here's the deal. I have a proposition for you: since I don't remember anything yet anyway, we forget all the lordships and milords, and we talk like normal people. You help me remember, and I promise to be a good lord and obey you. And above all, no hard feelings! Do we have a deal?" Alex looked intently into the girl's face. I wonder if I'm just screwing around, or incredibly screwed up? She even seemed to warm up a little, but it was hard to tell, her face was masterful.

"All right, Your Lordship!" Taer relaxed her left leg and arms, demonstratively moving from "at attention" to "at ease".

"I thought we agreed without the lordships. And you're not on parade - just sit back and relax."

"Good," she sat down in the chair beside the bed, folding her arms across her chest. The mask of impassivity was still on her face.

Still sulking, Alex chagrined.

"Look, I really don't remember what it was before (even the professor will tell you) and if I've offended you, I really don't mean it. I'm sorry, huh?"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Really? That's great! I don't want to offend you," Alex tried to smile as 'friendly' as possible.

"Well, now that we've agreed, no hard feelings, just so there are no misunderstandings... nothing happened between us? Because I've forgotten everything."

"What do you mean?" Taer seemed so surprised that she forgot her mask of impassivity.

"Well, you know, between a man and a woman, especially if they live together, things can happen... well... things."

The girl jumped up angrily from her chair, then came to her senses and sat back down:

"There was nothing!"

"Well, now that we've sorted out all the misunderstandings, you're not holding a grudge. Can you help me get some clothes?"

As she approached the wall, she pressed some kind of panel, and a passageway opened up:

"Your dressing room, My Lord," There was such a range of feelings embedded in the word "My Lord" that Alex realized there was definitely nothing between them, and pinching her ass was not a good idea, to say the least. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he walked over to the wall and peered into the opening: shelves, hangers, and racks of various garments went deep, forming a narrow corridor twenty meters long.

"Erm... could you pick something up for me. I can't even remember what to wear here," he looked a little confused.

Twenty minutes later, Alex looked at his reflection and sighed sorrowfully. Finally, his soul couldn't take it anymore:

"Don't we have anything simpler? Well, at least like yours?"

"It's your favorite costume, and it's the latest thing," Taer smiled. It was a wicked smile.

Well, of course: a bright scarlet turban combined with a yellow shawl and grey flared trousers - Zverev would have been jealous. But all he said out loud was:

"Yes, I don't argue, the look is very fashionable indeed, but I'd like something that doesn't restrict movement. I could wear it to the walk around the castle, walk around the park, and, well, have something to eat."

Taer roared softly and went back into the wardrobe. After another half an hour, we settled on a light "hunting" set - moccasins, baggy trousers with an equally baggy shirt. After changing, we went to have a "snack" looking around the castle at the same time.

They walked up the wide staircase, which was a dark red marble with white veining, down a floor, passing several corridors and arched bridges that spanned the vast halls. Taer stayed slightly behind him, appearing over his right shoulder whenever a door needed to be opened. She was also the first to enter any room.

She's watching, yeah. I'll have to ask her for a map because if I go alone, I'll get lost. That is, of course, if I'm allowed to walk around my own castle alone.

Taer opened another door, and they entered a room paneled in dark red wood. A single but huge window faced the garden.

"This is the small dining, my lord, where you used to take your friends. I thought you might be more comfortable here now."

"Thank you, very cozy indeed. And didn't we agree on "my lords"?"

Taer pursed her lips and looked away, defiantly ignoring the last words.

What a prick, sulking for God knows why...

The room was indeed small by local standards - a measly hundred square meters, to the eye. The room was dominated by a huge, low table accompanied by massive low-backed chairs. The table, like the chairs, was wooden, judging by the legs peeking out from under the tablecloth. Three monstrous machines (those... what do you call them... "droids"?) with trays were just finishing setting the table with a variety of food. The droids were commanded by an imposing man who looked so imposing that if he had put on a burka and a papa, he would have looked like Chapaev. The mustache alone was worth it!

On seeing the entrants, Chapaev bowed his head slightly and pushed one of the chairs aside with the words: "Please, my lord".

"Barra, the steward of this estate," a whisper came from somewhere over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Barra," Alex plumped into the chair with all the aristocracy he could muster and sniffed cautiously. It smelled delicious - roast meat and something else unfamiliar. The implements around the plate were horrifying in their appearance and quantity. Finally finding something on the table that most resembled a fork, he grabbed it quickly.

"What is this?"

"Roast fillet of Karsarg with a side dish of Arnichons, my lord," "Chapaev's" voice came from somewhere behind me. "One of your favorite dishes."

"Right, my favorite..." Alex plunged his fork into the appetizing piece and dragged it into his mouth, but then Taer's hand was on his arm, and she answered his questioning look with a reproachful tone:

"You are forgetting something, my lord."

"What, are you going to make me wash my hands?"

"No, my lord, Professor Ayuyun has asked me to ensure that you take this medicine," Taer placed a small jar of clear plastic on the table, filled with dark blue capsules that sparkled slightly in the light. "But in case you ever want to join in on the hygiene benefits, the door to the lavatory is behind you."

"How nice. Thank you for the information, Guardsman. All right, if medicine insists." Alex, sighing, popped one capsule into his mouth and downed what the alert Chapaev had poured into his glass.

"What was that?" He grimaced and asked, putting the jar into his pocket.

"Fenote is a memory and mental stimulant. You were prescribed to take it three times a day," Taer added gloatingly. She seemed to be hoping that the medicine tasted very nasty.

"No, I mean what was in the glass. Can I get something non-alcoholic? I don't like that stuff."

"This is your favorite wine, my lord, Bentar Dew."

Oooh, I think I'm busted, the way they're looking at me like I'm asking them for a star in the sky. Looks like Lord Allesandro started drinking early in the morning. Yes, a gift of cirrhosis for everyone who brings it.

"I'll make the arrangements now!" The steward's long practice did not help him to hide the surprised tone in his voice, and he stepped back against the wall and began dictating orders into his sleeve - he must have had a communicator there.

Two minutes later, when Alex was already savoring a fillet of Karsarg, a droid appeared with drinks, which was very welcome.

"By the way, are you guys still going to stand over me and stare at me? I can't get a bite in my mouth," Alex queried, trying to catch the slippery arnichon with his fork.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, if you need anything, then..."

"Stop!" Alex interrupted Chapaev and, pointing to his chair with his fork, continued. "I'm only suggesting that you have breakfast together. Have a seat, Barra. That goes for you too, Guardsman."

"But effectively ensuring your safety means being able to move freely," Taer protested.

"You being able to move freely around the table. And then I'd feel safer with a well-fed security specialist, or you'd pounce and bite me. Anyway, think of it as an order."

* * *

RiP · Mar 22, 2023

Chapter 4

* * *

Unlike Taer, who was distinctly sluggishly picking at her plate, the steward turned out to be a good fellow. When he got the invitation, he didn't flinch, and in a minute he was already eating something, and there was enough food on the table to feed a crowd of hungry students, and the three of them would certainly not manage it until late at night.

The snack had been going on for about an hour, and I wondered, philosophically, whether eating that pastry now would be hunger or greed. Suddenly Barra's face became serious and focused, his right palm pressed to his ear, which appeared to have a communicator headset speaker.

"When will she be here?" Hearing the answer from the unknown person, my 'Chapaev' frowned and got up from the table:

That's how 'Chapaev' looks like. So the steward looks about the same.

"My lord, Baroness Rionale has learned that you have recovered and is on her way here to check on you. The servants can no longer stop her, so she'll be here in about a minute and a half," Barra managed to speak and command the droids as they cleared the dirty dishes from the table and put out new ones at the same time.

"And who is this?"

"She is a distant relative of yours."

"And what is she doing here?"

"When you had your accident, almost all your relatives came here to support you."

"And to be close in case the distribution of the inheritance suddenly begins," Taer added with a sweet smile.

"Well, that's the way it is," I snatched the pastry as a moral reparation for my impending contact with my family. Then the door opened, and I almost choked on the ill-fated pastry.

The girl who walked in was so beautiful that she reeked of something unreal.

The loose, night sky-colored long dress emphasized her height, and the wide sparkling belt accentuated her slimness. Her shoulder-length black hair glistened with interwoven jewels. Her perfect white skin, which seemed to glow from within, contrasted with her almost completely black eyes. She walked forward and sat down in a chair carefully pushed aside by Barra. A wave of freshness gradually enveloped the room, the scent of her perfume reminiscent of a summer garden after a thunderstorm.

"Alessie, I'm so glad you're all right! Can you imagine how worried I was about you? I was gone for two years, and before I could even fly in from the Capital, you were already lying poisoned!" The Baroness's voice was melodious, with velvety notes.

"Er... Thank you for your attention, Baroness. I'm very happy I've recovered as well."

What the hell am I saying? Calm down! Haven't you seen pretty girls?

"I guess I wasn't fooled about the memory lapses. When did I stop being Kay and become a Baroness?" She arched an eyebrow meaningfully.

Wow, looks like we were close friends. Or maybe even more than friends. A very interesting theory, I cheered.

"Yes, Kay, I do have a memory lapse. I don't remember anything," he smiled and shrugged guiltily. The Baroness smiled back. The effect was amazing.

A couple more smiles like that and I'll melt under the table. Come on, get it together! Maybe it's a childhood friend and you have a fond and undefiled brotherly bond... or sisterly?

"Nothing at all?" The girl asked with a playful wink.

"Well, thou... you are absolutely impossible to forget," I tried to pull my chivalry together, but it wasn't coming out so well. "And there's something in my heart when I look at thou... you're admiring. I think it's trying to awaken my memories of you..."

"Tell me you've been bored for two years," she laughed.

"Horrible, just now realizing how much I've suffered all this time and you weren't there!"

"Well, I'm sorry, you know I've been called up to the onstum twice in a row," the Baroness said.

"I don't know, I've forgotten everything," I said. "I don't even know what onstum is or why you were summoned there... I don't remember."

"Onstum is the Emperor's annual call for the most worthy nobles to serve. They are summoned to court and serve the Emperor for a year," Kay recited as if reciting from a textbook. And then she added after a moment: "Well, serving is an overstatement... it's just some sort of courtly sinecure."

"So you spent the last two years in the Emperor's court?"

"Yes, imagine that, twice in a row! In theory, it's a great honor to be at court and be given a court position, so they try to make sure that there is an equal number of representatives from all the powerful families, from every house, so as not to offend anyone. Either there was no one else in our family, or someone in the Imperial Office liked me so much, but I was honored twice. I had to be bored for two years in the capital!"

"Well, you could not go, If everything is so bad."

Hearing this, Baroness Rionale looked at me like I was insane. I'm exposing myself without a break. But then she seemed to remember that I was, indeed, insane (well, at least memoryless) and softened.

"Alessie, it's onstum! The Emperor's call cannot be denied!"

Then I was flirting with Kay, and she was flirting back and telling the court gossip. Barra, who, as it turned out, could become completely invisible by disappearing into the setting, made sure the glasses were always full. Taer, on the other hand, looked at us with those surprised eyes as if I'd grown a second head. She apologized a little later and then walked out, claiming she was busy.

The Baroness and I had been chatting for about forty minutes when I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. My head felt like it was filled with lead, and it was hard to think. I could see reality as if through a gray film. Kay's voice was distant, asking me something, and I was so apathetic that I wanted to agree to everything just to get away. I tried to pull myself together and get back to reality.

Then, after muttering some vague apology, I went to the bathroom.

After three minutes of struggling with the tap, I finally stuck my face under the icy water. It helped, but not much. That doesn't sound like me. I've gone completely off my head. Has there been a relapse into poisoning? The water treatment did not bring tangible relief but spurred my mind enough to remember that I had a specially prescribed chemical in my pocket, which was supposed to help. Fumbling for the jar, I scooped the capsules onto my palm. The little blue spheres sparkled on my wet palm like glass. I crinkled my nose and popped the first one into my mouth. It didn't have much effect. After the third, my thoughts started to run faster, and the gray shroud fell away. After two more capsules, which were chewed up just in case, my thoughts became unnaturally clear and sharp, and my memory sharpened so much that I seemed to be able to remember what was happening at any given second. The sensation was quite unusual. The world seemed brighter and clearer as if I had switched to an HD widescreen.

Feeling ready to socialize again, I found a mirror and cleaned myself up. In the mirror, my wet but satisfied and slightly flushed face looked back at me. Yes, that’s a thing after all! And where were that Professor Ayuyun and his chemistry when I was studying for my exams? Tidying myself up, I thought about what could have caused such an attack while at the same time replaying the conversation with Kay in my head. And something was wrong with it, something familiar about it that shouldn't have been there, like the tune of an old song being sung in a new arrangement.

I remembered again what the Baroness had told me and how she had said it, which was no problem now, and stood in front of the mirror with my mouth hanging open in amazement. During the conversation, Kay was quite professionally anchoring me to her name in a positive way. Damn NLP! But that didn't make me feel so bad, did it? Something was not right. I was almost drooling at her. Why would she put positive anchors on me as well? Or was it just a coincidence? Eh, no, a normal person wouldn't twist words like that. Okay, screw the anchors. It's not the anchors that make me sick, maybe, she used some dope to fortify the result. Why not? They seem to be big fans of poisoning around here.

I'll have to hint to Taer to check the food. I walked out of the bathroom with that in mind, vowing to be vigilant and not to relax at the sight of pretty girls. The security specialist appeared to be standing in the corridor that connected the dining room with the bathroom, leaning against the wall and folding her arms across her chest, her face serious and preoccupied with something.

* * *

RiP · Mar 23, 2023

Chapter 5
* * *
Finally, overwhelmed with emotion, they could no longer restrain themselves and threw themselves at each other, swirling in a fiery whirlwind of passionate sucking... or kissing? Taer amused herself by mentally accompanying the conversation between the Lord and Baroness with quotes from love affairs novels. The two cooed like schoolboy lovers... or were they lovebirds? What was going on was reminiscent of a love affair. And a love affair of the lowest kind. Something really trashy, like Flame of Everlasting Love or something. Even though she's not an expert on romance novels, Taer added mentally. Ah, your lips are like scarlet rose petals... The stock of quotations was quickly coming to an end, and the pair kept on going. I never thought I'd regret not reading enough romance novels. Maybe if I'd read more, I wouldn't be tempted to giggle. No, nothing really wild was going on: Their passionate impulses were restrained only by the presence of witnesses. There was nothing unusual about the flirting itself... if you ignore who was flirting with whom.

Taer was just carefully pretending that she didn't want to eat at all and was only sitting at the table by the Lord's orders when she found out that Baroness Rionale was on her way, despite the heroic resistance of the servants. She was already mentally prepared to prevent or clean up a full-blown scandal. With broken dishes, mutual insults, and everything else, a full-blown scandal should have been. But things suddenly took the exact opposite direction.

Alessie, I was so worried about you! the girl mentally mocked the baroness. The Lord had always hated being called Alessie rather than Alex, and he disliked the Baroness, to put it mildly, and as far as she knew, had disliked her since childhood, considering her a nuisance and a naughty girl.

All their meetings at family gatherings inevitably ended in scandals. You... you, it is absolutely impossible to forget. - no, Alex could be understood, he had, after all, forgotten everything and saw before him just a pretty girl, but she remembered everything! The dislike of Lord Cassard and Baroness Rionale was entirely mutual. She disliked him too, to put it mildly - considered him a spoiled and scandalous individual, denigrating House Fyron, whose reputation she regarded with excessive maximalism even for a Guardsman. And here's the change - she's flirting with him all over, making eyes at him, and she's got a dress with a... with a plunging neckline. She hadn't worn one before, as far as I remember, not when she met the Lord. Well, I'll grant you, it's the capital's fashions. But everything else? Did she miss her third cousin so much after two years?

It was clear that the Baroness was up to something, but it was unclear why she was doing it. Well, yes, the Cassard family was shamelessly, mind-bogglingly rich, but the Baroness was not one of the impoverished gentries. Nor was she keen on exorbitant sums to pave the way for them with her "breast"... and through whom? Alessandro Cassard, with his reputation! There's obviously something wrong here, but what?

She was pulled out of her reverie by a distinctive tingling sensation under her communicator bracelet - someone was calling on a secure line.

"I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I'm sorry, but I have to leave. It's an urgent matter," Taer said as she bowed out of the cooing couple. She walked briskly, practically running, to her room, where the secure communications terminal was located.

She ran into the room, flopped down in her chair, and, switching on the suppressor, was finally able to respond to the inviting blinking light on the communicator panel. A sturdily built man in his forties with tenacious light grey eyes and a powerful chin appeared on the screen. Immaculately shaven, wearing a light brown business suit.

Nicklom Forret was one of the finest House Fyron retainers on Copeira. They had worked together during her short retainer career, and afterward, when she entered Lord Cassard's 'arm' they kept in touch and saw each other regularly. Anyway, serving Lord Cassard and not seeing the retainers was almost impossible - minor legal troubles, born of the Lord's spiteful, unruly nature, occurred with depressing regularity.

"Hello, Taer! You look disgusting. Heard you spent the night with the hot guys from SS?" The cheerfulness in Nicklom's voice was clearly artificial, as it always was when something was troubling him.

"Hi, Nick. Yeah, it was a great night. I'm sure you would have loved it!" Taer decided to play the game, waiting for Nicklom to get down to business.

"I don't think so. You know, I don't like noisy gatherings. My choice is an evening at home, with a good book and a glass of wine."

"Well, you should get out once in a while, or your belly might get bigger than necessary to build up respectability. Take it from me if it wasn't for the service..."

"Well, that's an obstacle you can soon part with," Nick's tone became, suddenly, very serious.

"Explain yourself," Taer also got in a businesslike mood.

"A lawsuit has been filed with the Consulate Court to declare Allesandro Cassard incapable."

"How long ago?"

"About ten minutes ago... It's the kind of thing they send a notice to the governor, and I have my people there," he hastened to explain, seeing the puzzlement on Taer's face. "I thought you might be interested."

"More than that. Who filed the lawsuit?"

"Count Disper."

Aushe Disper was a very distant relative, and Taer tried to remember what he looked like. It wasn't working. Unfavorable and uninfluential, his chances of becoming a guardian were minimal. So he was someone's frontman.

"What was the basis of the claim?"

"A medical certificate of..."

Nicklom picked up a flat plate of the infoblock.

"Extensive replacement amnesia," and after reading it, threw it back on the table. "Signed by the attending physician, Professor Ayuyun Lirria of Riena University. By the way, is he really the attending physician?" The retainer asked with genuine interest. Taer only nodded grimly in response.

"Then things are a little worse."

Nicklom was silent in thought, but his eyes said, You understand, girl, how serious this is, don't you? Taer knew it was as serious as it could get, and she began to think feverishly:

So, this is the beginning of the 'golden season' and the entire Consulate is grazing in Copeira for the holidays. Consequently, it will take at least a week to get a quorum together. Or one day if they decide to hold a retreat at the representation office. Could that be possible?

Taer began to nibble her lower lip in anxiety.

Of course, it could. It's an urgent matter! Well, they'll get together, make some noise, and we'll give them one or two more days to do it. Then if the higher realms are involved (and they certainly are), it will be the fate of Cassard that will be vetoed by the Council of Privies. Everything will be decided at the Privy Council. They will only let through the option that suits them. Will they be satisfied with the guardian? Yes, if they have already discussed and divided everything. And no, if there are no agreements - there will be terrible infighting, and perhaps the recognition of Alessandro Cassard as capable will be a pass-through option - "neither ours nor yours". All in all, we need to find out what the Privies think about this as a matter of urgency. We also need very good lawyers.

Taer came out of her reverie and stopped biting her lip, which was already slightly even bleeding:

"Thank you, Nicklom. I'll try to find a way to thank you!"

"It's nothing, we no strangers, after all," Nicklom was not a nobleman either, and he had entered the service from outside, which was a rare thing for a retainer of his level. "You just have to make sure it's an opportunity."

"Can I rely on your guys for legal matters?"

"Yes, you could send out a request, but..." Nicklom looked away and rolled his eyes up, clearly a little uncomfortable. "You know, it's better to get someone from the outside. Someone uninterested."

He lowered his tone, leaned closer to the monitor, and added:

"I've just been contacted by Lord Arteld, and he's been dropping hints, you know..."

Taer held back a heavy sigh: Oh, yes, I understand, it's only the first bird, and then there will be more... birds... more noble and powerful and will make... hints. And aloud, she rounded off the conversation decisively:

"Thanks again! And for the hint, too!" She turned off the terminal and stormed out of the room.

Taer jogged to the small dining room, Let's consider this in lieu of missed training" and, stepping to a step at the door itself, adjusted her uniform, and entered, making the most impassive expression on her face. To her surprise, the lord was not in the dining room - only the blatantly bored Baroness Rionale and Barra, frozen beside her.

"Ah, Taer! How are your urgent matters?" The baroness smiled sweetly."

"Unfortunately, they turned out to be really urgent, Kayrin." At Taer's mute question, Barra pointed his eyes to the corridor door leading to the washroom. "So I have to leave again."

The Baroness just shrugged - Well, what can I do?

Taer went out into the corridor and waited, leaning against the wall. Soon the bathroom door opened, and the lord himself appeared, wet, a bit dazed, and disheveled. As he came closer, she noticed the pupils of his eyes were unnaturally dilated, hiding the iris almost completely, making them appear black.

"My Lord, are you all right?" She asked with genuine concern. Joking is joking, the offense is offense, but if the ward's health suffered again...

"Аh? Now, I would even say it's wonderful." He was about to walk past her into the dining room but suddenly stopped. "By the way, what did you think of Kay?"

I think she's a piece of crap!

Taer raised her eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully:

"Well, an intelligent and very pretty girl, I mean, she was pretty before, but after the surgery, she became... well, you saw."

"Surgery?" The lord was clearly surprised.

"Yes, as far as I know, a year ago in one of the clinics in the capital. The work of one of the Empire's finest biosculptor." The shadow of a malevolent sneer slid across her lips again but vanished instantly. "But what is it about you? Your eyes..."

"Relax, there's nothing wrong with me," Alex brushed her off. "It's just a mild side effect of the Fenote, and by the way, I remind you again, we agreed about Your Lordship.".

"Are you sure you're okay? Shouldn't we call in a medroid? Shadows are with the grudges, the main thing is to deal with the lawsuit quickly! Taer was surprisingly quick to forget things that interfered with the case.

"I'm sure, but in the meantime, just out of pure curiosity, could you check what I ate and drank for various... let's say additives."

"One moment..."

Alex caught her by the sleeve:

"Uh, no. First, we will have a very, very polite conversation with Baroness Rionale, thank her for her attention and concern, and find out how long she intends to grace us with her presence."

No longer Kay, but Baroness Rionale, Taer liked the change. Yes, she liked it, but out of pure spite, she mentally excused herself hastily and returned to what she had run here for:

"You distracted me with your Baroness, and a very unpleasant thing happened."

"Baroness, unfortunately..." Alex thought for a moment. "Or maybe, fortunately, she's not mine. What's the trouble?"

"They want to declare you incapacitated. They've filed a lawsuit in the Consulate court." Taer waved her hands as if apologizing for the bad news.

"The freebies couldn't last forever..."

"What do you mean?" The girl frowned.

"Oh, forget it!" he brushed it off. "Because of the memory, huh?"

"Yes, because of Extensive Replacement Amnesia."

"And who is this well-wisher?"

"Count Aushe Disper, your distant relative, very distant."

"Yes? What interest does he have in it?"

"Most likely, he is someone's screen name, someone closer to him. Only a close relative would be able to take advantage of the results."

"Maybe..." Alex pointed with his eyes toward the dining room, where Kayrin was waiting for them.

"Maybe," Taer shrugged. "But one needs a lot of influence in the Consulate and the Privy Council, and as a political figure, Kayrin Rionale has no weight. And she hasn't had much appetite for money before."

"And what can be done with this lawsuit?"

"You can try to delay the proceedings at the Consulate - until a decision is made, you retain all your rights. You could try to negotiate with the Privies because if they get custody of you, some families will be greatly strengthened. The zero option could be a compromise. You could try to reach out to the ruling Lord of House Fyron, but your reputation..."

"Well, go on," he sighed.

"Frankly, you have a horrible reputation, and it affects the reputation of the whole House. So it will be extremely difficult to gain the support of the Privies or the Reigning Lord," Taer warned him.

"Then we'll do without them. Is there anything we can do right now?"

Taer thought for a moment, reflexively biting her lip. //Bad habits, coming back. I'd better not start biting my lip at some party.

"We can hire lawyers, right now."

"Great! Then let's go and have a nice chat with the Baroness, and then let's hire lawyers."

Further communication with the Baroness no longer resembled the cooing of lovers, although Alex continued to be extremely nice, and his gaze periodically, willy-nilly, slid down and dug into the cleavage of Kayrin.

When all else fails, our boobs keep working no matter what! Taer couldn't resist a mental comment, twisting a famous slogan from a droid commercial.

In the course of the conversation, it became clear that the Baroness plans to spend at least the entire "golden season" on Copeira (which was obvious) but has not yet decided where to stay:

"... or at the Fyron representation on Copeira, but it's so... There are all these young nobles, these "blades of honor," I'm afraid there will be dueling again." Kayrin wrinkled her graceful nose and pouted. "Maybe we can rent a decent cottage... But you know how it is, Alessie, all the decent places are sold out a month in advance." The Baroness sighed so heavily and sorrowfully that her breasts almost popped out of her cleavage, catching the Lord's gaze as she did so. "I'm afraid I'm a little late - its ship was two days late because of the ion storms."

She fluttered her arms and bowed her head as if resigned to her fate. What a sly bitch, that poor creature. Of course, Alex immediately offered to let her stay with him if it was convenient for her. The Baroness was a little reluctant, just a little, saying she didn't want to bother... and, of course, she agreed.

Taer stifled a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes, thinking, Boobs did the trick. I wonder, if I'd had cleavage like that, would I have been able to neutralize Kayrin's influence? You fight fire with fire, don't you?

Twenty minutes later, the baroness began to pack up. She asked Barra to contact the Representative office to send a flyer. All her travel luggage was left at the Representation, and she still had some business to solve, the essence of which Alex did not understand. However, Baroness Rionale did not go into much detail, and Alex did not ask. The steward went out into the corridor, and from muffled speech - he seemed to be communicating with someone by comm. When he returned, it appeared that the flyer would arrive in fifteen minutes.

The castle was, after all, monstrously huge. So by the time all three made it to the exit, the flyer had already arrived and was standing at the foot of the front stairs. The silvery machine, eight meters long and of impetuous proportions, was hovering at an elbow's height without making a sound. A red griffin was flaunting on its side, and an open side door showed off the interior of the flier, a dark scarlet velvet material with gold floral ornamentation.

By the door of the flyer stood a young man in a short, thigh-high, dark red tunic with a high-standing collar, belted in a wide black belt with a holster and something resembling a short baton or flashlight. A black leather cape, still bearing the same red griffin, covered his entire right shoulder. He nodded at Taer, ignored Barra, and silently bowed low to Alex, glancing at him with implicit disdain. And he flattered Kayrin, giving her a hand as she got into the car.

Alex shrugged mentally. Must be some sort of local etiquette, or it must be that passionate admirer of Kayrin's, the dueling types she mentioned. He looked at me... eloquently.

"I don't know how quickly I'll be able to sort things out - there's been so much crap in two years - but I'll try to get back as soon as I can. I think I'll be back here by midnight." The Baroness was already sitting in the flyer, so she was much lower than Alex standing there, and the view of her cleavage was amazing.

"We'll look forward to seeing you when you get back." Through sheer force of will, Alex managed to look solely into Kayrin's eyes, keeping his gaze from sliding lower.

The door of the flyer slid gently into place, and the machine began to gain altitude with a soft, throbbing sound. As it accelerated, the throbbing became more frequent, and when the sound became a monotonous hum, the flyer was out of sight.

"My lord, perhaps, if you will permit me to attend to the rest of the guests, for I fear that my assistant-" There was a clear expression of alarm on Barra's face for his assistant's mental abilities.

"Yeah, of course," the lord said. "By the way, how many relatives have come to see me?"

"Thirty-seven people, including Baroness Rionale, and not counting the attendants."

"And with the attendants, how much?" Holy crap! Not only did they come uninvited, but they also brought a bunch of people with them!

"Sixty-one persons," Barra groaned sorrowfully, as if he, Barra, were the culprit of this kindred invasion.

"Wow..." Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How long have they been here?"

"Most arrived two days ago."

"Did they say when they were going back?"

"I think, my lord, you might find that out from them. For instance, at the dinner party."

"Oh..." Alex couldn't stand his own much smaller family for long, and the prospect of talking to a bunch of total strangers to whom he must have feelings of kinship didn't inspire him at all. "Can we do it sometime... well, later... tell them I'm still not feeling well..."

"I am afraid, my lord, that they will find out that you are on your feet anyway, and it would be impolite..." Barra's tone became very unhappy and begrudging, which was not in keeping with his brave "Chapaev" appearance.

However, Barra's babbling was interrupted by an angry whisper from Taer:

"Your relations with your family, my lord, have always been far from ideal. And that's putting it mildly! And you can throw them all out now, of course, but I would remind you that your disability is about to be examined. And it would be shortsighted of you to cause unnecessary hardship... my Lord."

Once again, "my lord". It seems she was offended by the Baroness. Alex decided with a sigh and told Barra to take care of everything necessary to arrange communication with his kin. The steward bowed and, delighted with the lord's agreement, walked quickly away, giving some instructions to a communicator as he went.

"It was an interesting machine... a silver one... and does it fly fast?" Alex tried to change the subject, avoiding meeting his gaze with Taer.

"This model can reach a top speed of 650 submer, my lord." In the word "my lord," Taer managed to put such a depth of intonation and feeling that Alex even shuddered.

"Look, Taer, let's not get into this whole "my lords" thing again, shall we? I admit I was wrong. Inviting the Baroness to visit wasn't the best idea. But I couldn't help it. Pretty girls are my weakness," Alex said with as apologetic an expression as possible.

"But you suspected her. Is it possible to be so stupid..."

"Yes, it's stupid," he interrupted the girl, who was getting angry. "Yes, I did, and I still do. Anyway, it was a mistake, I understand it. What's the point of making a fuss and sulking? Let's try to fix the situation."

Taer, who resembled a boiling kettle, seemed about to burst into an angry tirade in response but then, perhaps realizing the pointlessness of the event, exhaled and waved her hand as if to say, What's sense to arguing with the brainsick?

Alex was more than happy with this way of looking at things, and to develop success, he tried to switch his security specialist to other problems:

"So, what do we have with lawyers? Don't we have any lawyers of our own?"

"Usually, if there were any legal difficulties, your family would contact the Fyron House Retainer Service."

"And why don't we go there again?" Alex realized that the standard options were a problem, but it always pays to know exactly what the problem is.

"Because," the girl sighed wearily. "We can't be sure of their impartiality - they are, after all, in the service of the House, not your family. And some malcontent in a position to do so might press them."

"And as I understand it, I have a lot of ill-wishers with the position, don't I?"

"Yes, enough," Taer admitted frankly. "Your reputation, your behavior... well, a lot of the Old Nobility and Guards don't like you."

"Is that why the dickhead who came for the Baroness looked at me like Lenin at the capitalists...?" Seeing the girl's eyebrows raised in surprise, Alex hurried to explain. "I mean, very unfriendly..."

And he thought to himself: At this rate, buddy, if you don't get sued now, your own 'security' will give you up because you're messing up all the time.

"The guardsmen, especially the officers, especially those of the Honor Blades, don't even hate you anymore. They despise you." There was gloating in the weary voice of the security specialist. The innate malice of his nature was taking its toll. "Even those who serve on Copeira, though to call it a gathering of the Guard..."

Taer realized that she might have said too much and hurried to change the subject:

"Why don't we go into the castle?"

Alex shrugged and made an inviting gesture toward the door. He didn't care where to talk as long as he didn't let the security expert off the hook since so much interesting stuff had come up:

"A gathering? Looks like the scorn of the Guards doesn't just extend to me, does it, Taer?"

The girl arched an eyebrow and looked back with a look that said, Is that all? You could do better than that!

"No, they don't despise me. They sympathize with me; it's not my fault I have such a... lord," Taer said with a smile. "They know that, despite what you do, I do what I can to protect the House's reputation."

"So this gathering supports you and treats you very positively?" Alex smirked as he let the girl through the door first.

"No, I have the support of the Guard, and I don't care how the "Gathering" treats me." She threw her head up proudly and took a quick step, about to interrupt the conversation. But it didn't work, Alex practically ran beside her and continued to conduct a casual conversation-questioning:

"And what is the difference between the "Guard" and the "Gathering"? Just the fact that the gathering serves on Copeira? And in the rest of the place, then, exclusively noble Guardsmen? Some kind of discrimination by place of service!"

"No, it's not just the location. It's just..." Taer stopped abruptly and spoke quickly. "The competition for the Guard is enormous. Only sixteen percent of the men and two percent of the women pass. Do you understand? People work their asses off to get in. But any little bitch ... daughter of a noble family who wants to play soldiers and wear a nice uniform gets in the Guard. Out of competition! Regardless of ability! Because that's the tradition!"

"Do they also get promoted faster? That's why they get a lot of "love" from their less noble colleagues?" Alex squinted slyly and clarified.

"All noblemen receive at least the rank of Sub-Lieutenant of the Guard upon graduation. But it's not about rank." Taer leaned against the railing of the wide, gently curving staircase they were ascending at that moment and went into a lengthy explanation.

"For several reasons, House Fyron is very interested in ensuring that its Guards are combat-ready and trained. And this is very difficult to achieve under such conditions. If anyone, even a complete idiot but, for example, an earl, becomes an officer of the guard, such a guard will not do much war. That is why the Guard is essentially divided into two parts. One part consists of people who have proved their right to be called Guard," the security specialist poked her chest with her thumb incredulously. "They're the ones who do real work. The other part consists of the offspring of noble families who cannot be refused admission, and the imposition of penalties would cause a political scandal. They are gathered into separate units and sent to places where they are never seriously shot, and their dismal incompetence and complete lack of discipline will not jeopardize the really important cases."

Taer peeled herself off the railing and walked on, gesticulating vigorously:

"For example, the Representation on the Copeira. There, noble dullards can wear nice uniforms as much as they like, stroll around social gatherings, scowl menacingly, and grasp their swords when they think someone has insulted their dignity or the dignity of their House. And, of course, to poke each other with those skewers in duels. It's not just House Fyron's Guards that have noble knuckleheads, but other Houses as well. And those Houses need somewhere to put them, too. As a result, a crowd of freshly minted noble officers of the Guard from various Houses are engaged in drunkenness, womanizing, and dueling. And they sincerely believe that they are the salt of the earth in general and the Guard in particular."

When the girl spoke out, Alex, modestly silent throughout her monologue, could not refrain from a snide comment:

"The only thing I don't understand. Why do you care so much? As I understand it, they don't bother you, and you don't bother them, either. Everybody's happy. And you, you're about to burst. Maybe you're just jealous?"

Taer sighed heavily and said quietly, looking away:

"No, but I served two months in the Representation office on Copeira."

Alex hummed and walked through the door, which was opened by the girl. He decided not to broach the subject further, fearing that the specialist would pout again and stop making contact.

As it turned out, the door led to Lord Cassard's office.

Judging by the pristine cleanliness of the desk, Lord Cassard wasn't into business, though who knows, maybe everything is so computerized that it hasn't been written on paper for five hundred years." Alex sank into the huge high-backed chair that stood behind the desk and looked questioningly at Taer, who was nestled in the chair opposite:

"And what we gonna do?"

The girl shrugged in response:

"I'll look for a good lawyer, and you can answer the mail for once." She was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well, or at least just check it."

She turned on the terminal, which appeared to be hidden in the countertop, and asked for the mail, then leaned back in her chair:

"Cluster! A list of lawyers recommended by the Noble Union!"

A glowing and slightly flickering screen appeared in front of Taer, and lines and pictures ran across it. From time to time, she asked to stop and asked for more details.

Alex, not wanting to distract the specialist from her work, was quietly idling, rocking in his chair. But soon the idleness was interrupted by the appearance of the droid. An enigmatic machine, reminiscent of a medieval knight in scarlet metallic armor, with a quiet whirring marched to the table and hoisted in front of Alex a large tray filled with long shallow boxes. The boxes were neatly stacked with colorful envelopes.

"Your mail for the last three days, my lord," the droid rattled in an "electronic" voice with a bow.

There were definitely more than a hundred envelopes. Thirty letters a day? If I answered all of them, I'd have to spend the whole morning and evening in the epistolary genre!

"And what, I have to read all this and answer everyone?" Alex asked a rhetorical question with a sigh

Taer, absorbed in studying the list, only shrugged, and the droid bowed and rattled again:

"Usually, my lord, it is I or your Office, depending on where the letter came from, that sort it out and answer it."

"You're good," Alex muttered.

And with curiosity (it's always interesting to read other people's letters, even if they are technically yours), I began to open the envelopes:

It was with great sadness that I learned of your accident... my deepest condolences and wishes for your speedy recovery. Agip Therolor, CEO of Tashida Corporation. I wonder who that man is who cares so much about my health.

Alex tossed the letter he had read aside and unsealed the next envelope:

It is with sorrow and dismay that we receive the news ... we wish you a speedy recovery. The Cassard Industrialists Association. Scary, a whole association named after me. I must be their honorary chairman.

The letter flew to the side. The text of the next letter came as no surprise:

I'm shocked by the terrible news... I wish you a speedy recovery. Head of the LatiPro Board of Directors.

Alex opened a couple more letters. The contents were depressingly monotonous as if they were written by the same person.

Well, I bet, thought Alex. The director throws his secretary, 'Sweetheart, send Lord Cassard my condolences and wishes for his recovery! She gives a command to a droid, and the droid writes the letters, the letters come here, and the same droids read them and reply. The result: a fascinating correspondence between droids and droids. Great!

Alex opened the rest of the envelopes, not reading the letters but looking directly at the signatures:

So... from Istal's representative assembly, from Arabund's board of directors, from the director of the First Mutual Aid Bank, from KosMinCorp - what the hell is that anyway? - from Arlit Optics...

In all, there were sixty different companies and a couple of dozen different parliamentary groups, factions, senators, deputies, and other people, and a couple dozen more letters from all sorts of earls, barons, lords, and ladies.

"Who are all these people?" Alex expressed a thought that bothered him.

"Those who are obliged by their position to send you all sorts of wishes," Taer shrugged, and then she turned her attention back to the list of lawyers.

"And why, for example, does the director of Arabund, a certain Gerib Varim, have to congratulate me?"

"I have no idea!" The security specialist brushed me off.

"My lord, the Cassard family owns a blocking 30% stake in Arabund," the droid rattled in my ear.

"Yes?" Alex raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting, but does KosMinCorp also belong? What's that all about?"

"The Free Kosmik Mining Corporation is owned in its entirety by the Cassard family."

"Oh, right here somewhere," Alex rummaged through the pile of open envelopes and letters. "There! ChiVato Pharmaceutical Union. I own that, too?"

The droid's voice sounded apologetic (or did it just seem like it?):

"Unfortunately, my Lord, I have no information about this company. If you want, I can contact the Office. They have information on all the assets of the Cassard family."

"No," the lord leaned back in his chair and chewed his fingernail thoughtfully. "I'll get in touch with them myself, and you better take these letters and write an answer to them all, telling them how grateful I am for their attention."

The droid bowed, collected the letters back on the tray, and departed with a slight whirr and unmistakable dignity.

So I own factories, newspapers, and steamships, and I don't know a damn thing about it! On the one hand, of course, Alex was pleased to be the owner of it all, but on the other hand, the idea of having to manage it all, and preferably with knowledge, was troubling.

"I own a bunch of companies, and I don't have my own lawyers?" Alex was genuinely surprised. On the one hand: corporations, blocking stakes, and boards of directors. And on the other: a complete lack of in-house lawyers. Somehow these things did not fit together. You can't even sneeze there without a contract and, therefore, without a lawyer!

"Well, the companies certainly have, but these are their lawyers, and they may have their motives. And it's unlikely they have any experience with the court of the Consulate. Not their level."

"Well, who, for example, drafted the contracts with these companies, or what was in their place? I bet there was tons of waste paper."

Taer tore her eyes from the list and, making a disgruntled grimace, said in a teacher's tone:

"I told you before that in the past, any legal problems were solved by the Retainer Service of Fyron House, but in the current situation, we shouldn't turn to them."

"Okay, okay, sorry to interrupt, but while you're distracted, could you show me how to get in touch with the Office?" Alex pointed his eyes at the terminal and shook his hands regretfully.

Taer got up from her chair and, showing her irritation, walked over, typing a step. She jabbed her finger at the button on the terminal, which appeared to be even signed "Office," and then turned over her left shoulder and marched back to her chair, where she plunged back into it, again staring at the lists.

"Lord" had only to raise his hands again, this time with an apologetic look, like, what do you want from a memoryless man?

After Taer's actions, another holographic screen appeared above the table, showing the now-familiar heraldic beast, a griffin, rising on its hoof. The screen sauntered for three seconds and was replaced by a picture of a light red droid with yellow eyes the size of a nickel... eyes? cameras? sensors?

The droid had just had time to mutter something like "Your Lordship, such an honor than I..." as the picture blinked, and instead of the droid appeared a round-faced man in his late forties with lively and shifty brown eyes. His grayish brown hair had light bald spots, and a white livery with a red vegetable pattern, reminiscent of the steward's livery, accentuated his master's paunch. He looked rather surprised, if not taken aback:

"My Lord, such an unexpected honor for us, how may I serve you?" and must have noticed something in Alex's eyes, he hastened to introduce himself:

"Rist Giom, Your Lordship's Secretary-General," at this, the Secretary-General tried to bow, but as he was seated, he could only demonstrate a slight bow of the head.

"Secretary-General, could you give me a report on my income and also prepare a list of companies in which I have a stake," Alex tried to give his voice an authoritative tone, relieved to think that somehow he managed to keep from inertia and blurted out Comrade Secretary-General.

"It will be ready in a few seconds, Your Lordship," the secretary-general squinted his eyes behind the screen and furrowed his brow, probably hurrying someone out of sight of the camera. "Meanwhile, My Lord, the master plan is being strictly carried out, and the over-fulfillment this year is twenty-four percent! Six percent more than the previous year!"

The round-faced man tried to bow again, but his stomach and the table prevented him again.

For the next dozen seconds, "Comrade Secretary General" ate his superiors with such a loyal expression that the superiors, perhaps unused to it, became a little uncomfortable. But fortunately, soon the line "data transfer in progress" ran under the image of Rist Giom, and after a few seconds, it was replaced by "data transfer completed". And Alex hurried to say goodbye to the secretary, listening to the parting assurances of readiness to fulfill any wishes of "Your Lordship". Having disconnected communication, "My Lord" decided once again to tear his security specialist away from the lists:

"Taer, how do I look at the files?"

"Who do you want to see?" The girl, looking at Alex over the holographic screen, had a look of genuine surprise on her face.

"Well, Giom sent me the income and company reports. How can I look at them?"

"Ah, the data! You'll think of... 'files'," she stared at the screen again, hiding behind it. "Just say open the lists of received data. The cluster is smarter than most droids, he'll understand you just fine and order to activate the help and assistance system, so you don't have to bother me anymore.

"By the way, why did the Secretary-General get so excited?"

"Well, it was the first time in two years that you had contacted them, as I recall. Usually, they'd run after you and ask if Your Lordship would like to see the annual report, and you'd tell them to go off. You even swore at them a couple of times. And rightly so," Taer looked up from her monitor and squinted at her angrily. "He's a nasty piece of work, that Rist."

"Who's watching them, then?" Alex wondered.

"They somehow take care of themselves. At least they don't do anything outrageous," I heard through the screen hanging in the air.

Alex tried to imagine what he could have done in at least two years of total uncontrollability in a very large business, and squeezed his eyes shut:

The size of the theft is beyond even the wildest imagination.

In the decency of people who literally sit on other people's money, he somehow did not believe. He sighed and began to communicate with the terminal, hoping to read the reports.

After following the instructions of the specialist, Alex was rewarded with a melodious ringing, after which a pleasant female voice reported:

"Welcome to the Zarya-Elite cluster. Help and assistance system activated."

"Well, that sounds promising. Come on, Zarya, show me the income figures," as soon as Alex said this, a glowing screen appeared in front of him and began to fill with tables.

Mm-hmm, that's the complete dominance of the voice interface. They just don't know about the mouse here, and the keyboard, according to the "cluster" is only used by professionals.

Alex sighed heavily - it was inconvenient to look through the text every time commanding "Open the next page"! The same thing could be done with a wave of his hand. But even that was "not good enough" - his hand was constantly in the balance, and after half an hour of digging through the data was getting pretty tired.

By all accounts, the Cassard family-owned or had interests in tens of thousands of companies of various sizes. The size of Lord Allesandro's available operating funds was fifty-six billion danari, with a net profit of nearly a billion a year. How much had been stolen by the vigilant secretaries and "managers in the field," one could only guess. The real size of the assets was problematic since most of the money was in the form of real estate and stakes in companies.

Alex sat back in his chair, staring at one point at the ceiling, stunned by the resulting sum - fifty-six billion! A billion is nine zeros, right? The number "fifty-six" and nine zeros... Mm-hm...

No wonder I was poisoned - you don't live long with that much money. Billy Gates, on the other hand, is doing fine without bodyguards.

The number glowing on the screen made the newly minted lord feel uncomfortable. No, he, like most people, often dreamed of becoming a billionaire. But naturally, he did not think about the possible intrigues attached to such a lot of money and in a completely unknown environment. Like most people who dream about it. And now he had... Now the sight of a huge figure with nine zeros did not arouse any positive feelings in him. He was taken out of the trance by a hoarse voice that sounded above his ear - Alex even shuddered:

"My lord, everything is ready for dinner. Your relatives and guests are already gathering in the main dining room of the castle," Barra stood beside him, bowing in a slight bow. It is unknown how he found himself in the office.

"Oh, yes, of course, we are! Taer, are you coming with us?" Alex muttered as he emerged from his stupor.

The girl shrugged in response, turned off the monitor, and with quick steps, caught up with the men who had managed to get out.

As they walked through endless enfilades of halls and corridors, interspersed with air bridges, it occurred to Alex that maybe that 56 billion wasn't so much. He has no idea about the purchasing power of these "denarii". Maybe a loaf of bread costs five thousand?

"Taer, how much is your salary?" He asked the question innocently.

"Forty-five thousand denarii a year. Do you want to cut my salary for being wicked?" The specialist smirked. "I've got a fifteen-year contract, with a fixed sum, plus a condition that you must pay me for the duration of the contract if you terminate it prematurely. By the way, you insisted on it yourself."

"And maybe I want to increase for unhealthiness and give milk for it," Alex smirked back at her. "And now I'm thinking that an attempt on my life was logical, and you're right. There's no reason to increase it... What about you, Barra?"

"Twenty-five thousand danarii a year and a scholarship for my son's education - eight thousand danarii annually - provided by you, My Lord."

That doesn't indicate anything, either. They can both be atypically high-paying or vice versa.

Alex strained his economic knowledge, which had once resulted in an entire diploma, and remembered the Hamburger Index. Well, there's obviously no McDonald's here, but I can get some idea. Let's try...

"How much does it cost to have a meal for two at the average diner where ordinary people who are not overburdened with money go?"

"Depends on your appetite," Taer looked up with interest, like, what's that for, eh? "Probably twenty or twenty-five credits."

"How many denarii are there in the credit? Or is it the other way around?" Alex continued to wonder.

"There are ten credits in one danarii, and ten fractions in one credit," the girl said slowly in a tender voice. The ending, you got it, kid? was begging for it.

You'd be thrown in some oligarch. I'd like to see how you got out., muttered the lord mentally.

"How much is the flyer, you know, not particularly luxurious, in a medium-sized package?"

But there was no further dive into the maze of comparative economics, and Taer did not have time to answer - they came to the main dining room.
* * *

RiP · Mar 23, 2023

Chapter 6
* * *
A huge hall, a hundred meters long, with obscenely high ceilings. The walls were draped in a kind of golden silk covered in intricate silver embroidery. The tall windows were almost entirely covered with scarlet drapes, and tapestries hung along the walls. Painted on the ceilings was yet another battle scene, with starships crushing each other across a starry sky. In the center of the hall was a giant table filled with various dishes, and behind it in tall, massive armchairs sat people, or rather a crowd of people - more than forty, that's for sure.

Relatives have gathered, Alex thought without enthusiasm as he sat down at the head of the table, with Taer to his left and an empty chair to his right. Barra remained somewhere behind, giving instructions to servants and droids, more than a dozen of them bustling around.

The family stared expectantly at Lord Cassard. He sighed heavily - to himself, of course - took the glass promptly filled by Barra and, gathering all his politeness into a fist, launched into a lengthy speech. For about fifteen minutes:

"Thank you for your support in my hour of need... I hope that in the future... you are the closest people to me... our next meeting will be connected..."

Alex thought to himself with pleasure: We can do it when we want! Sometimes I express myself in such bureaucratic language that if I had been born earlier, I would have been a Komsomol leader!

The family erupted in cheers and began an endlessly long series of reciprocal thanks and wishes. Alex thanked the relatives for their attention and care with raised glass but did not eat or drink much. He had become temporarily paranoid after reading the numbers, so he was wary of eating in front of such a crowd of interested persons. Although he understood that it was foolish if they wanted to poison him, even a small sip would be enough.

After an hour and a half, the atmosphere became less tense. The kin, visibly drunk during the reply speeches, were actively communicating with themselves. Alex whispered to Taer about the prices of consumer goods, and she (from nothing to do) answered.

It turns out that the imperial credit is slightly cheaper than the dollar, so one denarius is worth about eight bucks. That means that I have four hundred billion dollars in foreign exchange reserves. Stabilization fund, he grinned at this thought and mechanically sipped from his glass.

Just then, he noticed that in the chair to the right, which had been empty until then, an imposing old man in his seventies was sitting and smiling, looking at Alex. A strong face riddled with deep wrinkles and agile gray eyes that sparkled under bushy eyebrows. On his head was a small scarlet turban adorned in the center of a large brooch with a large transparent stone in which iridescent iridescence played. A long gray braid was thrown over his shoulder, and some elaborate ornament ... of gold, it seemed. He was dressed in dark pants and a burgundy tunic, over which was some semblance of a dark purple robe without sleeves, decorated with gold embroidery. The old man's face seemed vaguely familiar: That's right. He was the one who poured some nasty stuff into my mouth; Taer said it was the antidote that saved my life.

"Baron Kouifi?" Alex asked as politely as possible.

The old man laughed out loud and clapped Alex on the shoulder:

"And I was told by that silly healer that you'd forgotten everything, kid! That's right. I always thought those assholes couldn't be trusted!"

"I really had almost forgotten everything. So... just vague shreds of memory."

"I'm thinking maybe it's for the best." The baron winked. "You even met your relatives. And - without swearing. Who would have told me about it before - I would not have believed it!"

"It was Taer and Barra who insisted. To improve the image in the view of the impending case in the Consulate Court," Alex commented modestly.

"There! You've begun to listen to smart people, and soon you'll stop drinking and hanging around in an obscene manner!" continued joking Baron.

"Yeah, I don't really have any positive feelings about alcohol."

"You?" He snatched the glass from Alex's hands with a deft movement and drank it, after which he looked completely dazed and defiantly grabbed his heart. "Pity the old man, call him an old fart, or I'll die of happiness. What a useful poison it turned out to be! And where were they before!"

Alex only now realized that the Baron was quite tipsy, and it made him a little tense:

"Well, if it helps the man who saved my life, I'm willing to call you "old fart" as much as you want."

"That's it! You saved the day! You're not exactly a saint after all, though," Kouifi winked slyly. "I heard you invited Kay Rionale for a visit."

"Uh... yeah," Alex said, a little embarrassed, just in case.

"Don't be shy. It's a young thing, and the girl - wow, she's good! But," the baron suddenly lost all his hops and feigned merriment. "I am no longer your guardian, but listen to the old man, keep an eye on her - you have not been on good terms with her before, to put it mildly. And Kayrin's not the kind of person to let go of old grudges."

"All right, I'll keep that in mind. And you were my guardian?"

"Yes, I was your guardian until you were eighteen, and then you went off on your own," the Baron winked again and emptied his glass in a gulp.

"What happened to my parents?" Alex asked, who decided it wasn't unreasonable to know his family's history.

The old baron sighed heavily and began to tell the story.

Galen Cassard, his wife Astil, and his older brother and sister, Cort and Jaoni, were aboard the family yacht, the Cassard Star, when it went into hyperjump to Copeira, never to leave it again. External observation stations confirmed that the jump vector was correct, and the route was repeatedly checked, but neither the yacht nor her wreckage was found. The yacht had simply disappeared into hyperspace. When two years had passed, the Cassard family was declared missing, and the will left by Galen went into effect. And the guardian of the only surviving heir, eight-year-old Allesandro, was Baron Kouifi, an old friend of Galen's from his days in the Guard.

At this rate, the paranoia will progress rapidly.

Alex was sure there was something unclear about the missing yacht. But since it was a thing of the past, he moved on to more pressing matters:

"Baron, since you were my guardian, perhaps you know what the "master plan" is? I contacted the Office, and they told me something about its execution, but I found only two lines about it in the reports and no explanation."

"Well, it was my idea," Baron Kouifi looked a little embarrassed. "When all this happened with Galen, so many things piled up, and then there was the Office with the Retainers - with all the mortgages, the loans, the taxes, the excess of costs over revenues. I didn't have time to deal with it, and I can't stand it either... Anyway, I went to the Office, caught that young chink Rist, and said: "I'm putting you in charge here! By next year, I want you to be profitable! And increase every year by a tenth. That's your master plan! And if you don't, I'll find you and skin you!" And then, somehow, it became a tradition. They steal, of course, but if enough for the whole household, and even with a profit, then the hell with them, I think so!" Baron resolutely finished.

There was certainly a grain of truth in the Baron's words, but the fact that someone there is completely uncontrolled to run all the affairs caused Alex a slight discomfort.

Anyway, what the hell with them, if they corrupt ones - I don't have any others anyway. I don't have to sort out the paperwork myself, do I?

Encouraged by this thought, Alex continued to communicate with others. About an hour and a half later, Baroness Rionale arrived, but there was no more strength to communicate with her - I wanted to sleep. And they put her quite far away from Alex.

So, after half an hour, seeing that the relatives were still in the middle of the party, Alex hurried away, citing the general weakness after the poisoning. As he passed Kayrin, Alex sent her the most apologetic look he could muster, and with a look of regret that if it weren't for circumstances... She replied with a smile of understanding and proceeded to chat with some older woman who seemed to be a third cousin or something like that.

He made his way to the bedroom with the help of Taer, who happened to have a bedroom next door ("Purely for your safety, my lord!" she commented on his meaningful look.), "my lord" stripped off his clothes and flopped down on the bed.

The dark room was flooded with a ghostly, slightly reddish light from the window, which felt like it was well past midnight. Alex overpowered himself, got up, and went to the window to see what was shining there. And he froze in shock.

An incredible number of unfamiliar stars shone high above, a wide silver ribbon crisscrossed the sky, and a giant red cloud hung in the starry depths just above the lone greenish moon, pierced by an intricate web of dark fibers. The crimson nebula flooded the earth with a steady reddish glow.

Alex stood against the cold glass, looking up at the sky, which was so alien. And that's when he felt especially sad, really sad. The fact that he was in a completely different place, and everyone he knew - including parents, brother, and friends - remained in Moscow finally penetrated his consciousness, dazed by the rush of events and impressions. And the thought made something in his chest clench and become very dreary.

Hey. You can cry some more and it'll all go right away... Go to sleep, you wimp!

"From the first sign of schizophrenia, I hear!" he said aloud, waddled over to the bed, collapsed, and burrowed under the covers. He fell asleep instantly.

* * *

When he woke up the next day, he lay in bed for half an hour, too lazy to get up. Then he put on the same "hunting" suit that he wore yesterday and went out into the corridor - to explore. The reconnaissance did not yield any tangible results. So back in the bedroom, he contacted Taer, who said that if he is not killed right now, she is very busy, and Barra will explain everything. Barra explained that: Taer and Baron Kouifi had gone away to communicate with potential lawyers and to settle some matters with the Сonsulat court and that they would appear by evening. They both very much asked that they not leave the castle in their absence. Barra also handed over a letter from Taer.

How nice - house arrest! Alex muttered as he opened the letter. Though, of course, mentally, he knew that going anywhere alone was a stupid idea.

The letter turned out to be more of a two-line note: "No traces of poisons or any foreign substances were found on the dishes used during the dinner with Baroness Rionale. Taer."

Alex hummed and shrugged:

"All right, what's the plan for today?" tiredly, he asked the steward.

It turned out that the plan was to have a general breakfast with the family, then see the family off, and then "my lord" was free to do whatever he wanted. Alex sighed heavily, thanked Barra, and went on to the first point of the plan - to the breakfast.

After breakfast, the long farewells to the kin began. Standing with the steward on the platform near the front entrance to the castle, Alex thanked the relatives for their participation and support as they loaded into the flying flyers. He didn't offer to stop by just yet, though, hoping the kinfolk would take the hint. Baroness Rionale had some business on Fyron, but she planned to return in just a couple of days and for the whole "golden season".

There was absolutely nothing to do, so Alex, taking his secretary droid with him as a guide, went on a long walk around the castle to explore the area.

It's not cool to walk around your own castle with an escort.

Indeed, towards evening, Taer and Baron Kouifi arrived and brought Alex, the lawyer they deemed worthy to represent them in court, for approval.

All three were waiting for him in the office. The lawyer turned out to be a blond man in his forties, with regular features, dressed in something resembling a light brown trench coat with a cropped collar and loose gray pants. He held out his hand to Alex and introduced himself:

"Anzati Ritero, I hope to represent you in court Lord Cassard."

"I hope so too, and I expect my representation will be successful," Alex shook his outstretched hand firmly.

"Oh, don't even worry about it. I'll only get paid if the case is successful, so I'm more than motivated," Anzati smiled broadly.

"Well, that's good! Have you already discussed all the terms of our cooperation?" Alex asked, looking at Taer and Baron Kouifi.

"Yes, Allesandro, all we have to do is sign the contract and discuss the next steps," Baron Kouifi was sober, focused, and in no way reminiscent of yesterday's jolly joker.

Before signing, Alex habitually ran his eyes over the contract, causing Taer's and the baron's eyebrows to rise in surprise. Allesandro must not have bothered to read the contracts.

Anzati Ritero's fee was a hundred thousand danarii, payable if he won the case. I don't know how much they're supposed to pay lawyers here, but it looks all right.

Having signed the contract, they began to discuss the necessary preparations for the trial, which consisted of preparing some papers and coordinating future testimony. It was Alex's duty to be out in public more often and to demonstrate his sanity in every way possible.

"Tomorrow, there's a gala at the Emerald Gardens hosted by the House of Bentar. You're welcome to attend to say a few unimportant words or two. Taer will back you up if you need it," Baron Kouifi suggested.

"Yes, it would be a great way to draw the opinion of the majority of the nobility to our side. They will not like it if one of them, though not the best reputation but perfectly sane, is deprived of rights. It's an unpleasant precedent." The baron supported the lawyer.

Alex saw no reason to refuse - to the Emerald Gardens, so to the gardens! It was better than being bored.

After talking for about three hours, Alex and Taer went to see the lawyer and Baron Kouifi off. Already at the door of the flyer, the lawyer held out his hand again and, looking Alex in the eyes, asked:

"But please, Lord Cassard, restrain your impulses. Your reputation will already be a problem."

"I'll do my best," the "lord" sniggered back. And after waiting for the flyer to depart, he turned to Taer:

"Yes, what's wrong with my reputation? You - all about reputation, the baron - about reputation, even the lawyer - about reputation? What's wrong with it?"

Taer smirked maliciously, anticipating revenge, and began to tell the story. The story took about half an hour, during which Alex's eyes widened more and more with horror.

If she was to be believed in the story (and there was no point in not believing it - she was a girl who could certainly add color, but there was no point in lying), Lord Allesandro Cassard was an organic combination of Paris Hilton, Shnurov, and the unforgettable Zhirinovsky. There was even a tape of pornographic content, though it never made it to the Holo-V, thanks to the heroic efforts of the Taer and the Retainer Service of the House of Fyron. And all sorts of disorderly acts and appearances in public places in indecent looks and insults to others. Sometimes even a banal brawl! That, of course, did not add to Lord Cassard's charm in the eyes of the other nobles of the House. To prevent the devastating effects of the lord's lifestyle, the consul had persuaded him to be accompanied by a "specialist in personal security" whose main task was to prevent various antics... or to keep them out of the public eye if they could not be prevented...

"And what, I'm on that tape in the nude with the girls and..." whispered a dumbfounded Alex.

"Exactly! And with three!" Taer smirked maliciously and decided to deliver the final blow. "But the commoners love you. You're a star! They used to sell posters of you, and you weren't alone, but with beautiful strangers amid the process. You liked those posters, by the way, and you always regretted that they were confiscated as "offensive to the dignity of House Fyron"... though," she winked playfully. "In the Free Worlds Zone, they're still quite possible to find."

Well, at least it's a good thing it was with girls, Lord Allesandro, judging by the description, would have expected more than that. He shuddered, imagining what might have been in there instead of the girls.

"Okay, let's go to dinner. We're going out tomorrow." Alex grinned crookedly. "You make sure I don't embarrass myself."

The next morning passed in feverish preparation for the Emerald Gardens event. A consilium of Taer and Barra reviewed and rejected over a dozen different outfits, decided that Alex needed a shave (Taer had decided this), and gave Alex a long lecture on how to behave and how not to behave. By the middle of the day, exhausted but dressed and shaved, Lord Cassard was ready to leave when suddenly, it turned out that Taer, as a witness, was urgently summoned to the Consulat court and the reception. So he would have to go alone. Realizing he was left without Taer's cover and advice, Alex panicked at first, but it was no longer possible not to go - the invitation had been confirmed as early as last night. So Lord Cassard, swearing to himself for pro forma, exhaled and reminded himself that: Moscow is behind us, and there is nowhere to retreat! went to the reception.

The Emerald Gardens were a huge park complex with various pavilions, gazebos, lodges, and even stables to provide horseback riding, The Emerald Gardens were and were something of a private club, being a favorite meeting place and hangout of the nobility on Copeira. They got their name from a small garden of crystal plants taken from some unimaginable distance. All of this Alex knew thanks to the morning enlightenment given by the Taer. Today's reception was held in the "summer pavilion," so he probably wouldn't be able to see the Emerald Garden itself.

Well, you can always walk a couple of kilometers through the thicket, get lost just in case, but still find the Emerald Garden, though with "sane" behavior does not fit, Lord Cassard reminded himself, getting out of the flyer.

The pilot, a young guy in his twenties in a white livery with a red floral pattern, said he would await the call nearby.

At the entrance to the pavilion, he was met by a charming and graceful girl of about twenty-five with piercing blue eyes and raven-wing hair, in which a strange, as if glass flower glittered. A long gown of golden silk accentuated her figure, and an airy, translucent shawl glowed slightly on her shoulders. She had a soft, velvety voice:

"I am so glad that you have recovered and were able to accept our invitation, Lord Cassard. We were all so worried about you!"

"Yes, luckily, it's all right, but the memory lapses sometimes take their toll, lady..." Alex looked expressively at his companion, hinting that it wouldn't be a bad idea to introduce oneself.

"Ah!" she smiled embarrassedly. "Forgive me, Lord Cassard, I have been warned, but it seems you are not alone in having lapses of memory. Lady Laquita Asta."

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, lady."

Behind Alex, there was the throbbing sound of a flyer flying in, and the quiet click of a door opening heralded the arrival of another guest.

"Well, I dare not stop you any longer, Lord Cassard! You, like all young people, must want to have fun." She smiled charmingly and made an inviting gesture. "I hope you have a good time."

Alex, slightly surprised by the "young" passage, entered the pavilion.

The hall fully met the local architects' idea of what normal size is. That is, it was incredibly huge. In the center of the pavilion, there was a fountain whose jets made incredible shapes in the air, turning it into an intricate web of water ribbons. Dozens of couples were dancing around the fountain. More than a hundred members of the "cream of society" laughed, chatted, and flirted in the hall. Alex began to carry out the orders of the Taer honestly: exchanged with someone a couple of insignificant phrases, accepted five congratulations for recovery, and thanked for the worries. After talking for about twenty minutes, he decided that his task was done and took a glass with something less resembling alcohol from the table with drinks and went to prop up the wall. He was afraid to engage in long conversations without the informational support of the Taer, he could not dance, and after the stories about his reputation - to seek the company of local beauties - he was just shy.

So, choosing a position near one of the exits to the park, Lord Cassard began to kill time by looking at the local crowd. Next to him for about twenty minutes was also propped up against a wall, a very young boy, maybe eighteen, a little unsteady, with the classic appearance of a nerd and traces of youthful pimples on his face.

He probably can't dance either and is too shy to approach the girls, Alex decided as he looked around at his fellow bore.

The boy did not attempt to communicate, nor did Alex. They stared at the noble crowd in silence, occasionally sipping from their glasses. He was plucked out of his contemplative reverie by a stranger, "about the same age, maybe a little older," Alex estimated. A rather tall brunette with an eagle's nose and a frowning mouth, and thin lips:

"Lord Cassard, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you which cannot wait!" He pointed to the exit of the park.

"Well, if it's so urgent," Alex shrugged and followed the stranger.

They hadn't gone more than a hundred yards before two men emerged from behind the dense, trimmed bushes, blocking the way forward. Alex noticed, with his peripheral vision, a figure appearing behind them, blocking the path of retreat.

It was all so familiar that Lord Cassard almost said, on the spot: "No change, no cell phone". But he was overtaken by one of the "thugs," a blond man with dark gray eyes and a faint scar on his right cheekbone, wearing leather pants and a short gray tunic:

"Lord Cassard, your illness has excused you, but now I demand satisfaction!" He looked at Alex angrily and grinned wickedly.

Alex's eyebrows went up. In his head flashed what satisfaction do you want, you homosexual thug?

Seeing the surprise and incomprehension on Alex's face, the blond grabbed the handle hanging from his belt and growled:

"Duel! Now!"

"But I..." The dumbfounded Alex was just beginning to think of a lie when he was interrupted by the brunette who brought him in:

"I don't like you, Lord Cassard, but I'll give you my sword and be your witness." With these words, he unhooked the hilt with an openwork hilt hanging from his belt and handed it to the bewildered Alex, stepped back two steps:

"Would you gentlemen care to reconcile?" asked the companion of the aggressive blond.

"Never!" He roared, and in his hand flashed a golden blade about a meter and a half long.

"Yes, I'd like to..." But the seconds didn't listen to Alex and gave the go-ahead:

"Start!"

The blond man smiled and, squinting his eyes evilly, began to approach slowly, treading softly on the grass. His smile didn't bode well.

So, Your Grace? Did you enjoy being a lord? Eat this. That Jedi's gonna cut you up like a sausage, and you don't even know how to use that damn sword! Instantly his hands were sweating and trembling with the adrenaline that was rushing in; Alex was feverishly trying to decide whether he could escape if he darted into the bushes now and whether he could lose his nobility for the dishonor of running away from a duel. He would not, for the witness stand too unfortunate. Alex threw k glance at his sword, trying to figure out how it worked, but then a voice came from behind:

"Gentlemen, don't you think it would be more proper from the point of view of the Code of Honor if Lord Cassard's second were a man who is undoubtedly honest but who is not concerned with the offense he has caused? I, for example."

Alex, not turning his body, quickly looked back - the nerd was standing there, holding the hilt hanging on his belt. The brunette, who had appointed himself as second, started to object but was interrupted by the nerd:

"Or are you questioning my honor, gentlemen?" He removed the hilt from his belt and smiled with a look of challenge.

The "Thugs" immediately began to assure him that they were in no way questioning Lord Lister's honor. It's strange, they seem to be afraid of him.

"Very well, then! Then allow me, Lord Cassard, to be your second," and without waiting for Alex to agree, he went straight to the point:

"As a challenge, you choose your weapon. What do you prefer? A sword? Saori? A blaster?"

The sword didn't promise any chances; he didn't know what a "saori" was, but a blaster...

"Blaster!" Alex blurted out, calculating that it wasn't much harder to shoot than a pistol.

The nerd shrugged in surprise and headed toward the group of "offended":

"Gentlemen, the challenged party has chosen the blaster as the weapon of the duel. Let the offended choose the form of the duel."

"But we don't have our blasters with us," the brunette protested.

"I'll arrange for them to be delivered in about two hours," Lord Lister brushed him off.

The blond man looked angrily at the nerd, clearly disrupting his plans. He cursed silently and licked his dried lips:

"Okay, blasters at fifty paces, in five hours on the south boardwalk." He waved his hand, pulling the rest of the "offended " behind him, who, radiating fury, walked quickly away toward the pavilion.

"An odd choice, Lord Cassard." The nerd crouched on the grass beside Alex, who was breathing heavily, slowly recovering from his shock. "You were never a great swordsman, but your nightmarish shooting is legendary."

"I think it gives me a better chance," Lord Cassard shrugged. "I see they're wary of you." He nodded in the direction where the "offended" had gone.

"Nerd" smiled predatorily:

"Well, you are not the only one with a reputation, Lord Cassard. True, my reputation is of a somewhat different kind."

"By the way, it's not against the laws of honor if I practice with my blaster before the duel because they will be delivered before it starts."

"Why not? It's quite possible - the Emerald Gardens has a shooting gallery. We can go there."

Two hours later, a much calmer Alex was already firing at the holographic targets with the blaster. The blaster made a high-pitched sound, like a shriek, and a red streak of discharge rushed toward the next target with a loud whirring sound. It blinked and disappeared in a swirl of bright lights.

The weapon looked very much like a common sports pistol, which Alex had used in his time in the section at the institute. A massive developed grip, a thin long barrel, ending in a small bell. The trigger, rear sight, and front sight were all very familiar, except there was a "ready lever" instead of a bolt. The blaster had no recoil, and the light trigger and well-developed sights allowed for very accurate shooting. Much more accurate than an ordinary pistol - fifty paces would be an almost impossible range for it. For a blaster, that was a serious range, too, though Lord Brenor Lister (that was the nerd's name) showed Alex how to adjust the focusing crystal - reducing the clot's power and increasing accuracy. After firing off the series, all he had to do was to throw up his hands in amazement:

"Looks like all those stories about your shooting was speculation, you're an excellent marksman. Will you teach me?"

"After the duel, of course," Alex grinned wickedly.

The initial shock was gone, and now he was full of determination and anger. He was anxious to make the blond man pay dearly for his fear and insecurity. And so, full of icy rage, he sent shot after shot at the targets, getting used to the unfamiliar weapon.

Two more hours later, they arrived at the duel site in Lord Lister's flyer. Leaving the car at a distance, they walked to the south quay. It was late evening, and the waterfront was completely deserted. The tall trees growing along it provided additional shade, interrupted by the occasional lanterns hidden in the dense foliage.

The group of the "offended and humiliated " was already there: four silhouettes were darkening under one of the trees. After the formalities, the seconds again proposed reconciliation, but this time a firm "No" was given by both of them. The duelists stood with their backs to each other and started to move apart. They stopped exactly at the twenty-fifth step. Then the seconds, having made sure that the duelists were ready, would give the command, and it would be possible to turn around and shoot.

Alex had a plan: fall sharply to his knees in a U-turn and open fire while holding the blaster in both hands. As he found out, such a maneuver was not forbidden by the dueling code.

His hands began to shake slightly again, and the handle of his blaster, wet with sweat, slid slightly. Alex quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself... And then the command sounded:

"Fi...!

Alex started to turn around while still in the middle of the command, dropping to his knee, when suddenly something stung him hard in the shoulder, and an unbearable pain flared up in his head.

So fast... he managed to think, seeing the sidewalk rushing toward him.

And then darkness fell.
* * *

RiP · Mar 25, 2023

Chapter 7
* * *
"Damn students," Krain Werk cursed softly and prepared to shoot, showing Marek to join him. Actually, according to the original plan, which he, Krain, had developed and personally, three times, presented to the "resistance fighters", Rodik and Milun were to shoot, for which they were given a heavy stun gun, the only one available to the group.

But the duelists were already moving away, and no one was shooting. And he had to make adjustments on the fly.

Or else they'll put holes in our dearest lord.

He lowered the window of the aerocar a little and stuck the barrel through the gap. Marek, who was sitting behind him, did the same. The smell of wet leaves and the quiet rustle of the waves on the waterfront wafted into the cabin.

"Fire!" Krain exhaled briefly and pressed the trigger.

A loud throbbing gun howl reverberated along the embankment, gradually drowned out by the dense foliage of the densely planted trees.

The two ribbons of purple lights buzzed like angry wasps and swept toward the "offended" and smashed into him in a series of flashes. The duelist, cramped, collapsed on the sidewalk, frozen in an absurd pose before he could turn around.

The standard imperial R-55 in non-lethal mode pissed off the target, stinging it painfully rather than paralyzing it. But at thirty paces, in two barrels, in a burst...

Krain was about to turn his fire on the rest of the "offended" when a heavy stun gun struck from the darkness of a side street - a broad blue beam smeared across Lord Cassard and started searching for the rest of the dueling party. The last to fall was the lord's second, but he, too, didn't seem to have time to comprehend.

Krain gave the go-ahead for phase two and barked into his communicator:

"Why did it take so long to fire? Why did you change your position? What kind of amateurism is this?!"

The doors slammed shut: the two jumped out of the car and ran toward the still bodies of the dueling men, whose figures still had sparks of residual discharges flickering across them. Nick and Yuri had to make sure Lord Cassard was all right and fake a robbery.

"Krain, we didn't have time to open fire, we had a "sportsman" here, and we had to calm him down." Rodik, as an old underground fighter, always spoke by his first name. There was tension in his voice, and he always hissed harder than usual with excitement.

"What the fuck is a sports..." Kraine started to get angry but didn't get a chance to finish.

Three gray figures jumped out of a side street, where a heavy paralyzer had recently fired and rushed toward the duelists' bodies as well. Without thinking who it could be, Krain, on pure reflexes, covered one of the figures with the red dot of his sight and opened fire. Flashes of hits flashed, turning into short bolts of lightning streaming down his legs and reaching for the ground. And that was it! The target wasn't falling!

The runners reacted almost instantly: they rushed to the parked cars and, taking cover behind them, fired back several rounds, obviously blindly. A few of the charges hit the side of the aerocar and spread out with crackling aftershocks with no effect.

Once again, a heavy stunner struck Nick and Yuri, who fell next to the duelists' bodies.

Okay, time to switch to normal fire mode. We're in an aerocar. They have power suits. So no one's gonna get anything with the stun guns anymore.

His feverish thoughts were interrupted by Rodik's hissing voice in his earpiece:

"Krain, I see one of them, I can try to nail him."

"They have power-fiber suits..."

"Not from a stun gun, from a C-80, which was inherited from a sportsman," added the gnarm.

"All right, keep them in sight, but don't shoot yet. Let's try to have an amicable breakup. And tell me, who's the sportsman?"

Krain, who always thought very quickly when it came to shooting, thought that since the unknowns were also firing the stun guns, their interests might temporarily overlap. And he didn't want to have to go to the point of firing live ammunition.

The unknowns seemed to think the same because it had not taken twenty seconds for Krain to figure out that while taking his position, Rodik had discovered some dopey guy nestled comfortably at the hearing window with a Sport-80, and he had knocked that "sportsman " out just in case.

From the dark depths of the side street came a scream:

"Hey, passersby, shall we talk?"

"We can talk," Krain shouted back.

Just in case, he switched the rifle to combat mode and changed the charger. Opening the window of the aerocar a little wider and sliding under the door, he shouted:

"Who the hell are you?"

"We're robbers," they said after a moment's confusion. "And who are you?"

"And we're robbers, too," Krain shouted, glaring at Marik, who was obviously about to yell something stupid like "resistance fighters".

"Well, then, maybe we should discuss everything in our own way as the robbers? One on one, without shooting," it came from the darkness.

Krain thought for a moment and, having made a decision, began to instruct his bewildered troops:

"So, I'm going to negotiate now, you keep me safe from here, and if the shooting starts, you fly across the embankment, covering the body of Lord Cassard and the guys. Marik opens a barrage of live fire in the enemy's direction, and you, Juno," he clapped the pilot on the shoulder. "You drop the stick and get the lads and Lord Cassard into the aerocar. Rodick and Miloon, you..."

"I hear you, Krain, we'll cover you with fire, and then, when we're sure you're gone, we'll retreat to the original plan," the gnarm hissed, not letting the commander finish his sentence.

"All right, is it clear?"

Marik and Juno nodded in response.

I hope it doesn't come to gunfire, Krain thought as he got out of the aerocar.

He was not sure that the "resistance fighters" "understood everything".

He stepped out onto the platform where the duelists lay and, walking closer to Lord Cassard and the lads, stopped. The air smelled strongly of ozone and crackled with static after the active shooting.

It was unpleasant to stand in the place where the shots had recently been fired. Krain seemed to feel the sight lines crawling over him, his hands trembling slightly. He gripped the rifle tighter to quell the trembling.

Footsteps were heard from a side street, and Krain saw his vis-a-vis. He had never seen such strange "robbers", even on Zavax.

He's a robber, just like you! He doesn't look like a guardsman or a retainer, either; they're not so unceremonious on Copeira.

The man who stepped out was tall and dressed in a gray, blown-foam antiblaster jumpsuit over which he wore a standard imperial armor, though repainted gray, and a soft helmet of the same antiblaster foam on his head. A long-barreled assault rifle dangled loosely from his chest. He wore no insignia. He smirked and lifted the transparent visor of his helmet:

"Well, hello, brother in the profession!"

"And you don't cough!" Krain sniggered. "What are you doing?"

"Well, we wanted to rob the noble gentlemen, rob them of their underwear, and then call the police, so they wouldn't catch a cold, but there was a hitch," the big man said, friendly as if he was an old acquaintance.

Krain smirked - they were going to do the same thing.

After a brief negotiation, joined by Marik and Juno, who came out without orders (Resistance, your discipline sucks. Students, Krain mocked internally, but said nothing aloud), the "robbers" agreed that both sides would inspect the duelists, each taking half the loot, then leaving observers who would confirm the picking of the noble gentlemen by the police.

"But, bro, if you're going to rob them again, you'd better get in touch with me, so there's no trouble," the big man said, handing Krain a communicator.

He thought about it and took it. I'll have to check this comm later for planting. The big man smiled:

"Cheers then, brother. Let's go!" he said into the receiver of his comm, and the greys disappeared into the depths of the street.

Where they had left their observers, the big man did not say, and Krain was modestly silent about Rodik and the "sportsman". Half a minute later, he saw the Aegis taking off from behind the neighboring buildings with its lights off.

Perhaps not a bomb then, Krain decided, looking at the communicator. He tossed it in his hand and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The Aegis, otherwise known as a 'housewife battleship', was technically a yacht for business travel. In practice, however, she passed on the thin line of acceptable field and armament capacity for civilian vessels. And it easily crossed that line thanks to a second reactor installed for "emergencies". She had enough firepower to take out a light corvette and half the firepower to blow this place to smithereens. Rich kids. We wish we had!

And said aloud: "All right, let's move out! Rodik and Miloon, you'll supervise the picking up of the lord by the police. Meet me at the agreed place."

Seven minutes later, when the resistance fighters' aerocar was a good thirty komers away from the scene of the "robbery" a call came in from Rodik, who confirmed the unconscious Lord Cassard and the other duelists had been picked up by the police.

Lounging in the back of the aerocar, Krain thought about what had happened and planned what he was going to say at the upcoming debriefing. And that there would be a debriefing, he had no doubt. When word got out that Lord Cassard was having a duel - the whole 'resistance' network in the Tail sector rose to its ears. Network is a big word. But, anyway, the problem was looming larger than ever.

The Anti-Imperial Alliance, or as it was called, the Resistance, was not particularly popular in the Tail sector. To put it bluntly, no popularity at all. And the remoteness of the sector from the main Alliance bases created a dual situation: on the one hand, the "authorized resistance representatives" had a hard time, as they had no money, people, or support, and on the other, the local representation of the Imperial Security Service was a pale imitation of the "searchers" from the central sectors. In other words: everything had to be created from scratch with their own hands, but at the same time, there was no one to interfere with the process. The staffing issue, despite Krain's active resistance, was resolved at the expense of Riena and Tallana Universities - there were enough students with dopey minds and romantic ideas.

There were huge problems with logistics. Shipping from the main bases was a gigantic risk, as the cargo had to be dragged halfway across the Empire, and the inspection service was thoroughly and unfamiliar. One could have bought locally: after all, smugglers are everywhere, especially at the intersection of major hyperlines, but there was trivially no money. There was a similar problem with bases and safe houses. A sympathetic population willing to shelter "resistance fighters" was simply not available.

So a young, romantic clerk, who shared the ideas of the "anti-imperial alliance" and served in Lord Cassard's secretariat, proved to be a lifesaver for the "empowered representatives". The clerk in his youth was not a bread-and-butter business - Lord Cassard's real estate. It could not be sold without his lordship's command, nor could it be rented. He could, of course, rent it out secretly, but that would be a pittance for which it was not worth the trouble. All in all, what had been rubbish in the eyes of the Secretaries turned out to be a treasure to be resisted. Lord Cassard had flats, studios, houses, and castles on all the key planets of the sector in incredible abundance. And, of course, most of them he had never even been to. And then there were the various "outbuildings": warehouses, garages, generating stations, finally.

This splendor was used by the Resistance Network of the Tail Sector as bases, hiding places, safe houses, and meeting places.

And all that happiness almost goes deep in zwiggolot ass!

The death of Lord Cassard could have caused an automatic end to the free-riding. So at an emergency meeting of the leadership cell, it was decided to intervene.

So they intervened, at least it didn't come to gunfire.

Fortunately, the rebels had their own men among the Blades of Honour, who had a close relationship with Lord Lister. It was through them that they learned of the place and time of the duel.

I wonder how the 'greys' found out?

These 'greys' really bothered Krain. They just pissed him off with their absurdity!

Let's say they didn't want Lord Cassard dead for their reasons either, why not. It would take five men... well, okay, eight. And a heavy stun gun... A couple, maybe. There were at least fifteen of them! In assault armor with heavy weaponry. And the Aegis. The 'Greys' were clearly expecting much more serious trouble and were preparing for a serious mess. So serious, they weren't even ashamed to bring in the Aegis!

Krain sighed and drew a disappointing conclusion:

They clearly know something. But that doesn't explain why they didn't spread us thin along the street. And then there was the sportsman.

The Sport-80 rifle from Arlit-Arsenal was technically a sports rifle. But its excellent accuracy and ability to be stowed in a small case made it very popular among professionals of a certain kind. So much so that it was banned from sale after a while. So the 'sportsman' was not clearly a random passer-by.

The only question is who put him there. Gentlemen duelists, "Greys", or some third party wanting certainty in the outcome of the duel?

"I don't like it," he complained aloud, albeit quietly, and stepped out of the aerocar which had landed.

At the debriefing, he did not share his thoughts with "Lady Chief Representative Liora", only dryly, the military-style recounting of events. Rodik, who arrived a little later, completed the picture from his point of view:

"We were lucky, I spotted the "sportsman" by accident."

Krain could only shrug - yes, they were lucky:

"The operation was hasty but successful - lord alive, students intact, some profit to be made." He nodded at the loot piled on the table: jewelry, credits, a five thousand danari chip, a communicator, and three swords.

"We've descended to robbery, like the Imperials," Liora commented squeamishly, staring at the loot. "Why did you bring that filthy thing with you? What if it's a bug?" she hissed, jabbing her finger at the communicator.

"There's nothing there - we've checked it thoroughly and even dismantled it. Have we been sent here to make contacts?" Krain asked a rhetorical question. "Here's your contact," he nodded at his communicator. "Keep in touch as long as you like," he stood up to leave."

"All right, I'll deal with it," she picked up the com, wary and a little disgusted, like some nasty, biting insect. And then she was reminded of her idea:

"What about the message?"

"Delivered," Krain nodded, waving two fingers carelessly from his temple as he left.

* * *

Alex woke up to a strong but pleasant menthol-like smell. Everything else was disgusting: his head ached, sounds echoed painfully, and painful spasms rolled through his body.

"How are you feeling, Your Lordship?" He asked, with genuine sympathy, about fifty years of age, a round-faced man in a dark blue tunic with a gold floral pattern on the shoulders. He held a small white spongy ball in front of Alex's nose. A strong menthol-like smell emanated from this particular ball.

"Thank you, I feel disgusting," Alex said, barely moving his tongue, and tried to stand up.

It turned out badly: the numb limbs were like cotton wool and did not obey their owner well.

He looked around: a small room, dim light from two wall lamps, a massive table with a tabletop covered in blue cloth, and a couple of armchairs, one of which was Alex lying in. Besides Alex and the man in the blue tunic, there was a woman in a pale green dressing gown, probably a medic, and Lord Brennor Lister. Brennor's appearance was not good: half-dressed and disheveled, with a pained expression on his face, he was lying in a chair opposite, and the resemblance to the battered school nerd was even more striking.

Judging by the way I feel like shit, I don't look any better, Alex realized and decided to clarify the situation:

"What happened? Who won..."

The question was cut short by an instantly perturbed "nerd":

"We were attacked by robbers as we strolled along the promenade." Brenor put special emphasis on "strolled" and pointed his eyes at the man in blue: Not now, later. "And there were no winners in our wager, a draw."

"Robbers?" My head was buzzing, and my thoughts could barely wiggle. And what was the reason for the secrecy Alex did not understand? But decided to consider Lord Lister's hint just in case.

"Yes, Your Lordship. They are incredibly brazen. During your walk, they fired on you with a stun gun and blasters in non-lethal mode, stealing money and valuables. They fled with the stolen goods, leaving you unconscious on the waterfront. Where a police patrol picked you up. The best forces of my department have been sent to investigate, and I think the scoundrels will soon be brought to justice," the round-faced man in the blue tunic with gold embroidery hastened to answer the question.

Seeing Alex's questioning look, he introduced himself:

"The Head of the Fourteenth Metropolitan Police Department of Copeira, Alozar Rimer," with these words, the "head" bowed slightly.

"Mr. Rimer, I would like to discuss something with Lord Cassard in private. Where might we do so?" Brenor asked, looking innocently at the head of the department.

"Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen," Alozar said with a welcoming gesture around his office. "We have so much to do anyway. Shall I have them bring you some tea or teymar?"

After receiving a negative answer, the "head" and the woman in the dressing gown, who never said a word, diplomatically left and shut the door.

"Look, Lord Cassard, this is not a matter of importance, but we'd both be better off not mentioning the word 'duel' in front of the police," Lord Lister said as he waited for the footsteps outside the door to subside.

Alex shrugged in response, his head was splitting, and he didn't really care - not mention it, he didn't mention it. He fumbled in his pocket for the jar of Fenote he'd been carrying around since his lunch with the Baroness. He poured three blue sparkling capsules into the palm of his hand and popped them into his mouth. Soon his mind became clearer. Sounds around him were no longer painful, and his thoughts began to run faster.

Brenor continued to say something about how, of course, the police don't usually interfere when it comes to noble honor, but it's not worth involving the police in such delicate matters as duels... But Lord Cassard's mind was already at full capacity, and he was interested in more specific questions:

"Where have my opponent and his entourage gone?"

"Count Areno was hit harder than we were. According to the police, he was shot with a blaster in non-lethal mode. So he was all bruised and lightly burned, and his face was swollen... Anyway, they took him to the hospital, and his friends went with him," Lord Lister reported. "I think he'll be in bed for a couple of days."

Count Areno must be the aggressive blond. I hope he's got a good hit! Alex thought with mild gloating.

"Look, Lord Cassard," the nerd began hesitantly. "Please answer me honestly. I won't give you away. They were not your men?" he asked with the face of a teenager buying condoms for the first time in his life in a drugstore.

"Who?" There was a genuine surprise on Lord Cassard's face.

"The robbers who attacked us during the duel."

"No, not mine."

Hearing this, the "nerd" was visibly upset. He leaned back in his chair, rolled his eyes, and sighed sadly:

"Forgive me, Lord Cassard, for questioning your honesty, but you have no idea how badly I feel about the sword. I had hoped it was your men, and you had the sword now."

Lord Cassard responded by shaking his hands in regret, "if only I had one..." The nerd sighed heavily again, but then he perked up and added with much more determination:

"If you consider yourself offended, I am ready to give you satisfaction at your convenience!"

Alex waved his hands, assuring him that he didn't feel insulted in the slightest, and given his reputation, it would be strange if no one thought anything of the sort.

To hell with these duels! There's not another one to go, the first one I've had to recover from!

Lord Lister wanted to say something in reply, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lord Cassard's security specialist has arrived, and Lord Lister's flyer has also arrived," the department head, Alozar Riemer, appeared in the open doorway, and Taer, towered behind him, radiating irritation and anger.

"Are you all right, my lord?" she inquired.

"It's just a bit of robbery, no big deal," Alex said tiredly as he rose from his chair.

Taer insisted on an immediate flight to the castle; Alex saw no reason for her to object. After saying goodbye to the cordial Head of the Police Department and receiving his assurances that the criminals would be located soon, Alex and Lord Lister, accompanied by Taer, headed for the flyer site.

There were two elegant cars on the platform, one silver-white with the familiar red griffin, the other dark gold with a scarlet wyvern spreading its wings against a golden sun.

Already approaching the flyers, Lord Lister suddenly stopped and held out his hand for a handshake:

"You know, Lord Cassard, I was wrong about you! You didn't refuse a duel, and you behaved with dignity. You are a man of honor!" With those words, Lord Lister shook Alex's hand and got into the flyer, nodding to the driver.

The vehicle took off gently and, quickly picking up speed, disappeared into the dark sky, leaving a bewildered Lord Cassard behind.

So I could refuse!?

The thought that all the fuss and nerves involved in the duel had been for nothing just infuriated Alex. He flopped down in the back seat of the flyer. Taer, who was sitting in the pilot's seat, looked over her shoulder and hissed angrily:

"Why, for the Great Shadow, did you go to the boardwalk?!"

Alex realized that he was about to be accused of stupidity, he himself now realized that the duel was stupidity.

But damn, I didn't know!

He sighed heavily:

"I had a duel there."

"What?! A duel?!" The girl jerked, reflexively trying to turn around, which caused the flyer to shake.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, then pressed some button on the dashboard and gave a curt command:

"To the Blue Flame Castle!" And after the electronic "Execution" she turned to Alex:

"You're out of your mind! You always had the good sense to refuse before. Or was it you who called?"

"No, I didn't. And I didn't know you could say no! I didn't have anyone to ask, you know," Alex snapped back, folding his arms across his chest and staring out the window defiantly.

"I hope at least the police don't know about the duel?" The girl asked venomously.

Alex, not looking away from the window, muttered back that no, they didn't know and that it wasn't a big problem anyway.

Taer, cursing quietly, returned to the control of the flyer. The car was going low, so the city spread out below was perfectly visible. The large domes of buildings, topped by tall spires, were illuminated by hidden searchlights. The soft yellow light of the street lights, muffled by the dense foliage of the trees, reflected in the numerous canals, whose dark mirrored threads wove into an intricate pattern. Alex spent some time just admiring the view that opened up, but a freshly acquired worm of paranoia made itself felt:

I didn't know it was possible to refuse a duel, but those who challenged me couldn't know that I didn't know about it. So they could have been sure I would refuse and still - a duel.

Alex drummed his fingers on the armrest thoughtfully the picture was clearly not forming. And then a thought occurred to him that almost made him jump:

It's simple, lad. It wasn't a duel. They were going to quickly and quietly stab you with a sword simulating a duel, but Lord Lister showed up at the wrong time and ruined it for them! And on the boardwalk, they were already interrupted by robbers!

The robbers showed up too just in time to be an accident, but who might have needed to secretly rescue him Alex had no idea:

Or not to rescue... Maybe they didn't need your corpse, but your temporary unconsciousness to do something?

Sensing that his paranoia, spurred on by his imagination, was about to run wild, Alex tried to calm down and think in order:

If it was a failed assassination attempt after all, who would want it?

Alex tried to remember the name of the blond that challenged him to a duel, and his memory, invigorated by the "fenote," immediately gave him the answer:

Count Areno

"Taer, tell me, does the name Count Areno say anything to you?"

She looked up and wrinkled her nose thoughtfully for a while, trying to remember:

"Unfortunately, I don't know who that is, my lord," the word "my lord" was pronounced in a very sarcastic way. She seemed to be sulking again.

"And Lord Brenor Lister?" Alex decided to make inquiries about everyone involved in the duel.

"Lord Brenor, despite his age, is the best blade of House Bentar, a brether, and a very dangerous man," the girl jumped at the unexpected guess:

"So he was the one in the department?" She had a mixture of surprise and admiration on her face. "And you had a duel with him? And did you win? Or was it a draw?" As a surprise, Taer forgot that she'd sulked and forgot the titles.

Alex enjoyed the effect for a while, fighting the urge to lie, but in the end, honesty won out:

"No, I had a duel with Count Areno, and Lord Lister was my second."

The glint in Taer's eyes faded slightly, but the fact that Lord Lister had agreed to be Cassard's second didn't seem to surprise her any less.

"Why is Lord Lister a dangerous man?" Alex continued to wonder.

"I have heard of nearly a hundred duels with Brenor in two years, and he is, as you have seen, quite alive and not particularly damaged. He's the reason the guardsmen of House Bentar are so brazen on Copeira. But," Taer smiled wickedly, "it won't be for long."

"Why not for long?" Alex asked, expecting to hear a plan of revenge developed by the guardsmen of House Fyron or at least a hint of the existence of such a plan.

House Bentar does not seek conflict. They have always tried to be neutral, so Lord Lister's behavior creates political problems. In general, the parents have promoted Brenor to a position at court, where he will be sent at the end of the "golden season" so as not to muddy the waters.

Alex mentally sympathized with the "nerd" and stared out the window again, wondering who might have wanted to kill him. Count Areno was clearly someone's executor, but whose? Someone was persistently trying to send Lord Cassard to the afterlife. First, a poisoning that Alex had forgotten all about, and now a fake duel.

Dedicated assholes! Next time they won't make a fuss and will plant a mine.

The thought that someone really wanted to kill him made him a little uncomfortable, so he stayed quiet the rest of the way, trying to think of something.

Back at the castle, Alex sluggishly dismissed Barra's offers for dinner and staggered straight to the bedroom. He sat down on the bed and stripped off his clothes, going over the list of people potentially interested in his death in his mind. The list was long.

Then a folded piece of paper that had fallen out of a discarded boot caught his attention. Alex got up from the bed and picked it up. It looked more like plastic to the touch - smooth and slippery. He sat back down on the bed, unfolded the piece of paper, and began to read the text, written out in perfect handwriting:

Dear Lord Cassard, we want to apologize to you for having to paralyze you, but it was the only way to save your life. We are interested in cooperating with you, and you may find our help useful. If you are interested, come to the Unification celebration wearing a red neck scarf and we will contact you.

Alex leaned back on the bed and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. The heroic young man was still calling for an attack, and Alex was beginning to understand why there was no one near the young man.

Probably went alone and died heroically, for which he ascended to the ceiling.

The "rescue robbers" who showed up did not bring clarity; on the contrary, everything became even more unclear.

Yeah, and everyone wants something from me. At least this one needs me alive.

With that thought in mind, Lord Cassard went to shower and sleep, also flushing the torn message down the toilet.
* * *

There is a link to RoyalRoad. There are a couple of chapters ahead.

RiP · Mar 28, 2023

Chapter 8
* * *
All the way back from the police department Taer was quietly angry. Not at anyone in particular, but at reality in general. It had been a pretty crappy day. First, she'd been thwarted in the Consulate court. Actually, technically, she didn't have to go: after all, she was part of the Lord's Arm and not answerable to a court, not even the Consulate Court. If anything, it's up to Lord Cassard. But after consulting with Baron Kouifi, they both decided it was not worth aggravating relations with the court on the eve of the hearing. So instead of a reception at the Emerald Gardens, she went to the Consulate's secretariat.

No good deed goes unpunished. In the end, Daim Azkrilla Vitas, who "well, we're noblemen, too," tortured her with absolutely idiotic questions about Lord Cassard for four hours, hanging on Taer with a deadly grip whenever she tried to escape under plausible pretext.

"Well, there's so much I haven't asked yet!" Could this moth-beaten maiden be just a secret admirer of Lord Cassard? When she finally managed to fend off the official zeal of the Daim Azkrilla, it turned out that her flyer had been stolen by a police tow truck. Those blind brats of the dumbest zwigolot had managed not to notice the markings of Fyron's House on the boards nor the 'diplomatic number' on the responder. She spent a half-hour yelling at the innocents, first the droids, then the tow truck clerks, while they searched for the exact location of her car. She took the monorail to the police station in the evening. After the ride in the crowded carriage, she was in such a "good mood" that she didn't even have to say anything in the car park - after seeing her face, the terrified attendants found the flyer in less than a minute and a half.

On arrival at the Emerald Gardens, Taer was informed that Lord Cassard had departed for an unknown destination. She almost made a scandal out of inertia, but she contained herself in time to yell at the pilot, who was still waiting for Lord Cassard and was unaware that he had been gone for half an hour.

The lord's comm did not answer, nor was he at the castle. She called a couple of his favorite clubs. But he didn't show up there. Half an hour later she was already beginning to panic quietly, wondering what she should say to Countess Durlurl about the Lord's disappearance when suddenly a call came from the retainers. Police officers had picked up the stunned nobles, who had apparently also been robbed. One of the nobles was identified as Lord Cassard and, of course, the retainers were informed.

Ten minutes later, having broken most of the speed limit regulations, Taer was at the door of the Fourteenth Department, where the Lord had been brought. She was met by the head of the department in the reception area:

"Alozar Riemer, Fourteenth Department," the fat-looking man in the ceremonial blue tunic with gold embroidery introduced himself wearily. He was, it was evident, noticeably overdue because of the discovery of the robbed nobles.

"Guardsman Taer Diltar, Lord Cassard's arm, and his personal security specialist," Taer mentally cursed the wreckers once more as she introduced herself - the journey in the overcrowded monorail car had not gone unnoticed for her white tunic. "As far as I know, you have Lord Allesandro Cassard?"

"Yes, Mistress Diltar, he was picked up by a unit from our department and is now in my office," Alozar Rimmer thought for a moment before adding. "According to our medic, he's fine."

"Take me to him. and I have a request for of you, Alozar, which I hope will be met with understanding."

"Please follow me," the headman bowed slightly, making an inviting gesture with his hand and leading Taer into the back of the building.

Along with Taer, a young officer with a thick leather folder, probably an assistant, silently shadowed the boss.

The Head of the Department proved to be an understanding man: his request to remove the journalists who had begun to assemble there from the car park was met with no objections. As they made their way to his office, where the recovered lords were, Taer discussed with Alozar Rimmer what he should say to the press and what would displease His Lordship and House Fyron.

"Don't worry, Mistress Diltar, I understand," the round-faced department head assured her with a little cover of his eyes. "No details will get on HV. Will you or the Retainers of House Fyron be handling this case from your side?"

"Retainers," Taer hated boring bureaucratic correspondence and shied away from it at every opportunity. "But I'd like to see the reports from the experts and the team that picked up the lord."

"Of course, Mistress," the head looked expressively at his subordinate, and the latter, without stopping, quickly opened his file and drew out two Info Strings. "Here they are. One is the expert assessment, and the other is the report of the team that found the lord."

Alozar Rimmer's attitude and diligence flattered Taer, and she made a mental note: I must hint to the retainers to take note of Mr. Warden.

In the office of the head, there was Lord Cassard himself and a young nobleman of some sort. Both looked awful - half-dressed and dirty. The pallid expression on their pale faces and the dark circles under their eyes indicated that post-paralysis syndrome was in full swing, but the lord was still looking not so bad.

What the shadows were he doing there? What if he'd been killed? Countess Durlurl would have skinned me. Alive. Infantile idiot! Taer began to get worked up again.

Already in the flyer, she pounced on "his lordship" with questions. The answers dumbfounded her:

A duel?! Great Shadows, a duel?!

Allesandro Cassard and the word 'duel' did not connect. The lord was a mediocre swordsman and a terrible marksman. And so the constant refusals to all the challenges he received were certainly a wise decision. Though, this did not help his reputation among guardsmen and young nobles. However, Lord Cassard had always not cared what others thought of him.

And there's a duel. And with Lord Lister as second, Taer glanced furtively at her lord as if doubting that this very man was involved in the duel. He sat staring thoughtfully out the window. Hmmm... Where, what comes from? Once a year and a stick is a blaster. But it looks like if the robbers get caught, I should ask for a reduced sentence - they just saved my career!

Smiling at her thoughts, Taer concentrated on piloting again - the lights of the Blue Flame Castle flashed to the port side and it was time to come in for a landing.

On arrival the lord declined supper and went straight to bed, which was understandable: after the stunner, everyone was always dizzy and their heads were pounding. In such a state, even if you wanted to eat, you couldn't eat a bite in your mouth.

Taer drove the flyer into the garage and returned to the grounds in front of the castle. Barra was still there. He must have been waiting for her.

"I see the lord has made a full recovery," grinned the steward, taking a seat on the steps leading up to the castle. "He looked as if he'd been drinking for a week. What brothel did you find him in?"

Taer hummed back. The nights were warm in the golden season, the breeze carrying the scent of wet leaves from the garden and the faint singing of finches. She could talk, she decided, sitting down next to him on the stairs, and there were no extra ears here.

"In the Fourteenth Police Department," the specialist smiled slyly and added. "But I'll bet you ten denarii you'll never guess why he got there."

"Don't keep me in suspense. Tell me."

"A duel!" Taer declared, admiring the impression she had made.

The dumbfounded Barra was silent for a while, then let out a long breath, waving his hand:

"Yeah... how did he stay alive? You might as well go to the temple and take a vow to Ir'Maridae for keeping him safe."

Taer arched an eyebrow in surprise:

"I haven't noticed you being particularly religious before."

"You start..." Barra sighed sadly, lowering his head. "I've been worried sick about him since he was poisoned. And then, boom, there was a duel. A duel. You've got that fire in your eye, guardsman. You're stupid, but think of others!" I could hear sincere resentment in his voice. "You, if anything, you go back to the guard, but me? The Office will write so much stuff on me... enough for two lifetimes sentences to get clean before the new master."

So you, Mr. Weyoun Barra, must have dirty hands. You're a fool, Taer, a fool! You should have known the steward of the manor wasn't living off his wages. They'll write him up, all right. Say you take cashback from contracts and share them with the inspectors from the Office.

As the true cause of the steward's genuine frustration dawned on Taer, her gaze filled with contempt. Which, however, disappeared instantly when Barra looked up at her:

"Come on. It was all right!" The girl gave the steward a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "No more dueling, and I'll look after the rest. Right, I'll be off."

She stood up and mechanically shook off her trousers.

"By the way, Barra, honey, make arrangements for a nice big dinner, preferably straight to my room," she folded her arms in a feigned prayer and made herself look as unhappy as possible. "I have police reports to read and requests for retainer escorts to confirm, and I'm starving because I've been on my feet all day."

"All right, go ahead, I'll do it. Give you free rein, and you'll eat on the run, no respect for tradition."

Taer fluttered her arms in response and smiled charmingly:

Real guardsmen can eat and sleep in any condition.

After saying goodbye to Barra, she walked briskly toward her room. And as she moved further away from the steward her face grew darker and darker:

What an asshole, huh? Generations of faithless service to the House of Fyron. Yeah.

Taer remembered exactly how one of the High Society shows had said that Lord Cassard's servants were the highest paid and received, on average, twice as much as the others. And still, not enough, Taer finally reached her room and, continuing to radiate anger, plumped into a chair:

No, Lord Cassard could be accused of many things, but he was never stingy. He always helped out with money if something happened, even to his servants. That asshole had gotten his son into Riena University when he'd been kicked out of Tallana University. Gave him a scholarship.

The girl's wave of righteous anger was interrupted by a sneaky little voice that surfaced from somewhere deep in her subconscious, reminding her that she was scared for her career, too.

At least I didn't stoop to stealing and always carried out my duties honestly!

It's just that everyone has their price. Here's if you were offered nobility..., the voice countered.

Taer honestly tried to imagine how she would respond to the nobility's offer and, sensing the treacherous insecurity deep down, became even angrier, but now at herself. And since anger at herself is a shame, and shame she did not intend to feel anymore, she ordered herself to "start thinking like a professional and an intelligence officer rather than a parody of a Guardsman", and to distract herself, she delved deeper into police reports.

The reports had a miraculous effect - within five minutes, she was wading through mighty police procedural language, oblivious of all her mental anguish. She was so engrossed that she didn't even get a good look at who had brought her food. She poked her analyzer at all the dishes, noting to herself that her paranoia seemed to be exceeding the limits of her profession.

And so she was fascinated by the fact that the whole robbery story was an ineptly orchestrated set-up. If the report is to be believed, some of the "walkers" were stunned with a heavy stun gun and a certain Count Areno with a non-lethal blaster, presumably from two R-55. Incidentally, Count Areno, as the report said, was from House Peltar. The Peltarians had always been enemies of House Fyron and, in recent years, had been hated so fiercely.

The shadows with him, though, with the Peltarians, what interesting robbers had appeared. Two with blaster rifles and one with a heavy stun gun.

Taer knew from personal experience what a heavy stun gun was - an unwieldy dummy almost as long as a man. The instructors loved to give it as a 'permanent weapon' to delinquent cadets.

Yes, the perfect weapon for robbers, which, by the way, according to witnesses, was well over three - five to ten.

And the "robbers" were retreating in two aerocars, yep.

The chances that a group with a heavy stun gun accidentally stumbled upon Lord Cassard just as he was about to engage in a duel on a very deserted southern boardwalk were so negligible that there was no point in considering it as a working theory.

So they were there for a reason. The question is, why were they there? Well, they weren't there to rob, were they? Although twenty thousand danarii on either side is a very substantial sum, Taer stripped off her uniform and, throwing it into the utility block, headed for the shower. Turning on the massage mode, she stood in the shower, scrolling through the various reasons for the 'robbers' attack in her mind.

She somehow could not believe in a trivial robbery: first, the swords, which were half the value of the stolen goods, would be very hard to sell. Second, how did the robbers know about the place and time of the duel? This was nonsense! She tried to look at the question from another angle, wondering who could benefit from the attack. It appeared that the attack was most beneficial to Lord Cassard - it saved his life. But he simply could not have organized the attack so quickly and not let her know.

Who else could have benefited? You!

But for herself, Taer could say with absolute certainty that she had done nothing of the sort; she had an ironclad alibi.

There are also Barra and many others who are scared shitless of the revision that will follow the lord's death. The Office, for example.

She liked the office option much more, there was clearly a motive here, but the opportunity...

Then the piercing beep of the communicator left in the bedroom intruded on her thoughts. After putting her face under the tight jets, Taer mentally cursed the men who had pulled her out of the shower and followed the communicator, leaving puddles on the carpet behind her. It was Barra, telling her that Baroness Rionale's yacht would be arriving in about ten minutes, and it would be nice if Taer was among the greeters.

"Okay, I will," she groaned, tossing the comm onto the bed, cursing once more at those who interfered with her plans and going to dry her hair. A swim in the pool before bed was not going to happen.

Ten minutes later, the absolutely perfect Taer in her fresh uniform was standing on the grounds in front of the castle with Barra, waiting for the Baroness to arrive. Soon the group of moving lights in the night sky began to grow rapidly gradually, turning into a yacht. The milky white hull hovered over the treetops, and the yacht humming quietly with its thrust generators began to descend to the site.

Yes, Faison the Silver Arrow, there's a three-year waiting list for them, someone must have given them to her, Taer thought with mild envy.

The yacht was very beautiful: the elongated hull with its swift outline, the slightly lowered bow, and the short wings of the gravel stabilizers made her look like a bird of prey. The perfect whiteness of the hull accentuated the intricate black ornamentation that runs along the sides. In the center of the side, the ornament became the Baroness's monogram, with a small scarlet griffin glowing in a bloody drop in the middle. Without letting go of the supports, the yacht froze at palm height, the airlock door opened with a faint rustle, and Baroness Rionale herself appeared in the glowing aperture.

"Welcome, Your Ladyship!" Barra bowed, simultaneously offering his hand to the Baroness.

"Thank you, Barra!" Leaning on his arm, the baroness jumped to the ground and turned to Taer with a beaming smile. "I'm so glad to see you again, Taer, and that in spite of the late hour, you were able to meet me. Where is Allesandro?"

"Lord Cassard is not feeling well and has gone to bed. We thought you'd be arriving tomorrow morning," Taer said in a formal tone and added with a cold smile. "It's good to see you, too, Kayrin."

"We had a very successful jump. We were seven hours ahead of schedule," the Baroness smiled apologetically. "And I decided that hanging around in orbit all that time would be silly."

The specialist only shrugged in response, glancing at the line of droids unloading luggage from the yacht. The visitor followed Taer's gaze with an embarrassed smile and commented:

"I just want to be prepared for the festival of Unification. I hope you'll be there with us, Taer?"

How nice, just a reunion of girlfriends. Where had the old familiar bitch Kayrin gone? It's like she's been replaced since the lord's recovery, Taer smiled back. "Of course, Kayrin, I accompany the lord on all outings."

"Great, by the way, I'm starving. Will you keep me company?" The Baroness, without waiting for an answer, deftly took Taer under her arm and led her into the castle. Behind them, the steward gave dinner orders while the yacht soared white into the sky, unencumbered by its cargo.

After settling in the small dining room and waiting for dinner to arrive, Kayrin summoned the steward to her side:

"Thank you, Barra. You can rest now. I think we can manage quite well from here," she smiled sweetly at him and, interrupting his objections with a wave of her eyelashes, sent him out of the room, leaving himself alone with Taer. The Baroness began to eat, chirping something about how she was thinking of rejoining the Guard and regretting that she wouldn't be able to serve in the same unit again. Taer blatantly didn't listen, trying to understand why Kairyn needed her company. Suddenly the Baroness interrupted her chirp, instantly becoming very serious:

"You know, Taer, I'd like to talk to you frankly so that there are no misunderstandings between us. Not as a baroness to Lord Cassard's guard or as two former guardsmen, but as a woman to a woman. Tell me, do you have any plans for Lord Cassard?"

"I don't understand you, Kayrin. What do you mean?"

"I'm asking you, as a woman, if you have any plans on Lord Cassard," the Baroness repeated slowly, almost syllabically, moving in close proximity to Taer.

"No, I'm not interested in him in 'that' sense," she tried to answer as firmly as possible.

"Are you sure?" The Baroness said with obvious hesitation.

"Sure! Why do you ask?" Taer genuinely didn't understand why Kayrin would want that.

"Lady Nastase spoke to me the other day," the Baroness twirled her fork thoughtfully in her hands, looking only at it and not at Taer. "She asked about my plans, hinted that I should be married at my age, and said that she thought Allesandro would be a good match."

Hearing this, Taer almost choked. Lady Nastase wielded enormous influence in the Consulate. She was listened to very closely by the Ruling Lord, and she was practically the official matchmaker of House Fyron. All marriages were agreed with her in one way or another, unofficially, of course. If she said that, in her opinion, someone was a splendid candidate, it meant that the highest circles considered that candidate to be politically optimal, and any other option would cause displeasure to the House and the Ruling Lord. A very strong displeasure. Lady Nastase had a very rich palette of means of pressure at her disposal.

"Is it that serious?" Taer realized that she might be sitting next to a potential Lady Cassard, and she didn't like that prospect at all.

She'll destroy me or I'll destroy her.

"I don't know," Kayrin shrugged and went back to eating. "As I found out, I was on standby, but now things are looking up for me to be the main option."

"Who was the main option before you?" The "specialist" asked cautiously, secretly hoping that there was a better candidate.

"Valerie Bellar," Kayrin replied with a predatory grin. She must have realized why Taer was interested in the main option.

Hearing the name again almost made Taer choke: "What? The Ruling Lady of the House of Bentar?"

"You're surprisingly quick to understand. Now, do you see why I'm interested in your feminine view of Lord Cassard? Come to think of it again, I'm a man without complexes or prejudices, and I don't see a problem as long as you don't get in my way. What's between you two is of no interest to me."

She couldn't stand him, and when Lady Nastase hinted, she rushed to do her bidding. That didn't sound like the Kayrin I knew.

"Frankly, what's your interest, Kayrin? Did you want money?"

"I'm doing this for House Fyron!" The Baroness squinted her eyes angrily and set her fork aside. "We don't need the rancor that is bound to start now if the other family gets Cassard. The balance of power will change too much. I am zero option, everything will remain in the same family, and the stability of the House will not suffer. As a Guardsman, think about what would be best for the House. And I swear by the name of Ryan, if you get in my way, all I have to say, Lady Nastase, is that my goodwill is hindered by one Guardsman..."

Such self-sacrifice: 'I'm getting married out of patriotism'... Pour it on others! You have some interest of your own here, and it's not money.

"I didn't mean to interfere," Taer shrugged as indifferently as possible. "If you want to marry Lord Cassard, that's your business."

"You don't just hiss at me every time I go near Allesandro! I thought you were jealous. If you don't care for him, we could make a great couple," the baroness thought about the obvious ambiguity and corrected herself. "I mean an alliance, come to think of it. You help me establish a good relationship with Alessie. I'll plead your case to Nastasi, and she's powerful enough to thank you...", Kayrin smiled sweetly, like a temptress with a track record. "A nobility, for instance."

Taer was momentarily affected by the word 'nobility'. But then she perked up, all her intuition, all her experience with Kayrin, screaming that there was something wrong here! There was some fundamental wrongness in the Baroness's words and actions:

If I got in her way, she would intrigue me, set me up in any way she could. She do everything she could to quarrel me with the lord. Poison me in the end, or challenge me to a duel. In short, Kayrin would have acted like the proud bitch with the ambition and connections that she was. Instead, she offers me an alliance by seducing me with nobility. Why? It's not up to me who the lord will marry or if he will marry at all...

"Roasting an unkilled Karsarg?" Taer remembered that Lord Cassard, on principle, didn't give a damn about Lady Nastase's wishes. "Alex could just send them all away and not marry at all or marry that Marquess of his. He's not an earl of any kind. There's no way to push him around."

"That's why I need your help while he can't remember anything, and that includes the Marquis. You will help me, won't you?"

She was about to politely dismiss the baroness when suddenly a heaviness came over her, the world seemed to turn grey, and her thoughts became slow and lingering, and Taer, not knowing why, said:

"Yes, I will help you."

* * *

And Kayrin seemed so sweet to her...

"I'm so glad!" Kayrin smiled charmingly. "I hope we get to spend tomorrow together: you, me, and Alessie."

"Of course, Kay, I hope so, too. You should call him Alex. He hates Alessie," Taer smiled wryly. "You know, I'd better get going. I'm really tired."

"See you tomorrow then, Tar."

Taer reached her bedroom and collapsed on the bed as if she was delirious, not knowing what was wrong with her. Already falling asleep, she remembered that she thought she had heard of symptoms like hers at some lecture at the Academy. But she fell asleep before she remembered what the symptoms meant.
* * *

RiP · Mar 29, 2023

Chapter 9
* * *

The next day, she struggled to wake up to the beep of the biomonitor.

Lord Cassard is awake, so it's time for me. Why can't the bastard sleep this early?

Taer staggered into the shower, and as she walked past the mirror, she was horrified at how she looked: she looked as if someone had chewed her.

What shadows I slept in my clothes!

Quickly refreshed by an icy shower, she began to get dressed. Putting on her communicator, she glanced at the time. It was the middle of the day, and the lord was awake as usual.

I, on the other hand, am a bit sleepy.

And she had planned to get up early so that she could practice.

Yeah, I guess I got a little overexcited last night. She usually got five hours of sleep in abundance.

She stepped out into the corridor, and less than a minute later, Lord Cassard appeared. He was frowning and thoughtful:

"Tell me, Taer, do you know anything about the outcome of the investigation into the first attempt on my life? Well, that was when I was poisoned."

"No, the investigation is being conducted by the Imperial Security Service and House Fyron Intelligence. I'm afraid my personal request will not be enough to obtain the information. Your signature is required." In fact, she might well have inquired informally, such as from Countess Durlurl, but the poisoning just slipped her mind.

"Make a request, then, and I'll sign it. And also... tell me, if you were to kill a high-ranking target - you know, some lord - would the bodyguards help him?"

"Depends on what resources I have: if I only have a hand blaster, then bodyguards can help the target a lot," she looked expressively at Alex. "Why do you ask?"

The lord sighed heavily and darkened even more:

"You know, I've been thinking. And I realized it wasn't a duel. It was an assassination attempt. Someone tried to poison me, and now this. If they keep trying, they're probably going to bring in the professionals now."

Taer, who was somewhat shocked by the duel presented in a new light, opened her room door:

"Come on, let's go to my place, and you can tell me your thoughts in detail. And why you thought it was an assassination attempt."

"Er... come on," he walked into her chambers and looked around. "You've got a cozy place, not like mine. And why your place?" Alex smiled, and his face was no longer grim. "Not my room or the study, for instance?"

"Because the suppressor in my bedroom is much better!" Taer replied in complete seriousness as she closed the door behind her.

Pointing to the lord's chair by the window, Taer waited until his back was turned to her and, with a couple of quick kicks, threw the uniform and towel lying on the floor under the bed, sincerely hoping Alex hadn't noticed them in time. Hiding the signs of her hasty awakening, she walked over to the desk and turned on the suppressor. A yellow light flickered on top of the pyramid, and the room filled with a quiet hum.

"There, now we can talk," the girl turned the armchair by the table towards the lord and settled comfortably in it. "What makes you think it was an assassination attempt?"

Alex sighed heavily, and ran his palm over his face, pressing his eyes lightly, massaging them. Looks like he didn't sleep well. And began to explain his reasoning.

Fifteen minutes later, both sat in thoughtful silence, the silence broken only by the bass hum of the suppressor. The Lord waited for a response, and Taer's mind was in a terrible mess:

From what the lord had said, even the last idiot would understand that the whole duel thing was pure spectacle. Except who would want it?

It could well have been an assassination attempt foiled by the appearance of Lord Lister, or it could have been a production by the same Lord Lister.

Though why he would do that is beyond me!

The instigator of the duel, Lord Areno, was from House Peltar, and Peltars don't need much convincing to mess with House Fyron. And if there's a price to pay...

Could it have been the Peltars? An act of delayed revenge for the fight at Pella? Oh, come on, that's ridiculous!

"What do you think of that, Taer?" The lord seemed tired of waiting for a meaningful response and decided to remind her of his existence.

"I think the duel was staged, and perhaps indeed for murder," Taer was a little uncomfortable admitting that she had missed her second assassination attempt in a week, but it was pointless to deny the facts.

But, shadows! After all, I'm not a bodyguard!

"I think so, too," Alex grinned wryly. "The question is who needs it and what to do."

"Hire guards, of course! Sixteen men at least, I think. Plus, you could get a dozen more droids and order..."

"Wait, wait, wait," the lord interrupted the specialist. "I was thinking along those lines myself, but then it occurred to me that if they'd tried it twice, they might try it a third time. The first time I survived by accident. The second time I was interrupted by Lord Lister and the "robbers" who appeared too just in time to be an accident. So those who want to kill me will mistake them for my guards. So next time they will act for sure and with the guards in mind..."

Alex leaned slightly towards the girl trustingly:

"That's why I asked you, how would you attack a target guarded by... well, the same sixteen people you were talking about? As long as you're not short of funds... within reason."

Taer was about to declare, "No way! I'm not an assassin!" but thought about it, imagining the operation to eliminate Lord Cassard as a sabotage mission assigned to Fleet Intelligence. The first thing that came to her mind was an accurate sniper rifle and a well-chosen position, but after thinking it over, she dismissed it - one might miss, and the target might be protected by a personal shield - after all, Lord Cassard could afford one.

No, a sniper rifle is not enough! The sabotage team will only have one try - they need to hit for sure. They've already missed twice.

She thought about the bomb for a while but gave up on it because it would be hard to plant the bomb into the castle and twice as hard to get it to the reception. And the high flyer wouldn't be able to reach even the bouncer.

And then it hit her - the HGM! A heavy guided missile could be easily obtained by a well-connected and well-resourced man, and the assault team had them on the payroll. An experienced operator can easily hit a flying flyer or put a rocket through a window from a decent distance.

She imagined very vividly how the silvery cylinder of the rocket, opening its guiding flaps and buzzing like an angry wasp, leaves the container on the soft launch engines, only to turn in a few moments into white-tailed death, which rumbles to its target with a crashing crack of supersonic tearing air. A blue, blindingly bright flash of the explosion and the flyer, as if hitting an invisible wall, shatters to smithereens, becoming a cloud of flaming debris. Or a missile strikes the window of the lord's bedroom, the primary charge overloads the weak field set rather against the robbers, and the main charge explodes inside. The room bursts into flames, a wave of heat instantly scorching everything in it, the ceiling and walls collapsing. The hit leaves a gaping black hole in its wake, illuminated by the uneven flames of the flaring fire. "Contact lost," the operator says, pulling down his glasses, and the observer confirms the hit... An unpleasant chill runs down Taer's back.

I'll get baked with the lord - the wall between our bedrooms has been weakened by a secret door.

Yes, that's exactly what she would have done. A late-night bombardment of the bedroom from HGM, and to make sure the lord was where he was supposed to be, the droid could be hacked, or a bug could be slipped in.

Great shadows. The droids were last checked almost half a year ago!

And after the strike, the group will retreat in a flyer waiting for them.

Or they're just firing from a semi-truck aerocar - the launcher will fit quite nicely. There's a very busy road leading to the spaceport ten minutes' flight from the castle, and the launcher could well be disposed of by dumping it into one of the countless canals.

"If I needed to securely eliminate a heavily guarded target, I would fire an HGM at the target's bedroom," the "specialist," said quietly. "And sixteen bodyguards would not help at all."

"HGM? What that?" Lord asked.

"A Heavy Guided Missile - it could well be placed in a large aerocar and fired through the open side door. The warhead has enough power to destroy a fragment of a castle or blow up a flyer."

Alex raised an eyebrow skeptically:

"Is there nothing that can be done? Like cordoning off possible launch sites or something... Shouldn't there be some way to deal with it?"

"A cordon will do nothing: some samples have a launch range of up to fifty comers, it's only ten comers to the estate boundary, and the rest is municipal land. But even if we agree with the municipality of Copeira to create a security ring of this radius, it would take several thousand men and a couple of thousand droids."

Taer wondered what could be done, and the Planetary Action Handbook immediately came to mind:

In the event of a threat of shelling of bases or squad material by guided missiles, bases, and field camps are sheltered by stationary or mobile shield generators of continuous operation with a minimum capacity of 500 pwt. The movement of equipment should be carried out in convoys with a minimum distance between vehicles of sixty measures and with mandatory cover by assault aircraft...

"Something can be done," Taer grinned grimly. "And it will be very expensive..."

"How much?" Alex perked up.

"Well, I don't know yet," Taer said, leaning back in her chair. She already had a clear plan of action in her head, and the situation didn't seem so bad anymore:

"We need to find out. Probably a hundred million, plus surcharges for urgency."

"A hundred million what? Credits or denarii?"

"Danarii. And that's only an estimate. Plus, you will still need people - ten people at least."

"Not more expensive than money," Alex sighed in relief. "And what is proposed to be done?"

"Change the fleet of flyers. "Isato-Planet" is certainly a fancy machine, but it won't survive an HGM hit. Buy shield generators to cover the castle. Hire pilots capable of flying really, really low and really fast. Hire a couple of "free lances" to take care of the droids, and the little things there..."

"All right, then, find out the prices and buy whatever you think you need."

Anything I see fit? Hmm... sounds good...

Her eyes sparkled at the thought of a pair of personal wear shields and a brand new Sparkle with a boosted generator... and an adaptive sighting system. Her thoughts drifted from the Sparkle to a black pearl Mirage convertible sports coupe, but she quickly dismissed the captivating image:

"As you command, Your Grace."

"By the way, is firing missiles at the lords the order of the day? Wouldn't they dare or use something more modest?" Alex asked.

"I don't know," the 'specialist' shrugged and twisted in her chair. "You asked about the method. An HGM is, in my opinion, a very reliable method. I have no idea what professional assassins will do and what they will use. And whether or not they will decide to do so depends on the assailants, whether this approach is acceptable to them or not. In the end, it can be blamed on the PVD terrorists."

"Who would want to attack me?" the lord continued to inquire. "And what is the inquest's main theory about the first attack?"

"I don't know. We should send them a request. But I think the Imperial Security Service is looking for Anti-Imperial Alliance conspirators or PVD terrorists. The SS sleeps and sees the conspiracy being uncovered, so they're looking everywhere for Rebels and PVD terrorists. The Copeira police suspect some lone-wolf maniac. Because they're shaking with dread of the possible political fallout if the investigation leads them into the Great Houses squabbles. And Fyron's Intelligence is still undecided about the culprits and will decide depending on the political situation."

"How lovely!" Alex marveled. "So no one's going to look for the real poisoners at all? Who do you think it could be?"

"Anyone," Taer waved her hand vaguely. "Some insulted aristocrat, unscrupulous in his methods but scrupulous in matters of House honor. Guardsmen... though hardly likely, of course. Some relative - for the sake of inheritance."

"Like Baroness Rionale, for example?"

"No, she arrived later than your poisoning, and she doesn't have many motives, at least not right now."

But if she does marry you, who knows...

Taer stared thoughtfully at the ceiling and drummed her fingers on the armrest:

"Actually, I doubt they were relatives. You were poisoned at the reception at the House of Kerlith, and there were only two of your relatives there. Plus Baron Kouifi. We can dismiss the Baron at once - he had no sense to poison you and then save you. The Marquis of Azzardo and his wife? First, very distant kin. Second, quite well-off, and third, they're both almost a hundred years old. They have no motive at all. There were no strangers at the reception, and it's unlikely that any of your kin would have sent someone. They're not that powerful..." She paused meaningfully, hinting that high politics were involved.

And remembering Vallerie Bellar as the number one spouse candidate is very high politics!

But thick-skinned Alex didn't seem to catch the hint:

"And who, if not family? Someone so offended that they decided to poison me, and when that didn't work, arranged a "duel" for me? Do you often have such a reverent attitude towards honor?"

"Anything can happen, but what I meant was that there may be political motives involved..."

"Political? Did I undermine someone's electoral base? Or could I have gotten too many votes?" There was obvious sarcasm in the lord's words, but Taer could not grasp the essence of the sarcasm.

"What "base"? And what does this have to do with mining, anyway?" she genuinely didn't understand. "I mean, someone might not like the alliance between Fyron and Bentar, for example."

"And who wouldn't like him? And what does that have to do with me?"

"Like the Peltars, or those forces in House Bentar who are against an alliance with Fyron. How should I know? I'm no expert in politics! And you're involved through your potential bride."

"My... what?!" Alex was taken aback.

"The bride," Taer tensed slightly.

Didn't I say too much? But, after all, he couldn't help knowing!

"Do I have a fiancée as well?" The lord was clearly taken aback by the news.

"Well, it's not quite there yet," the "specialist" hesitated. "They're still negotiating... But if they do, yes. There will be a bride!"

"And who is she that they want to kill me because of her?"

"Valerie Bellar, the Ruling Lady of House Bentar. But it's not necessarily because of her. It's just a guess," Taer "reassured".

"Why me? Do we have an incredible love affair? Despite my reputation?"

This slightly confused Taer:

Really, this is nonsense. Why Lord Cassard? Do we have a shortage of lords? Could have found a couple of suitable ages with untainted reputations. So Bentar needs money so much that they're willing to turn a blind eye to Lord Cassard's reputation?

"As far as I know, there is no incredible love between you two. It's a political marriage. I would even say highly political," Taer explained at length. "House Fyren is voting for House Bentar in the High Council, weakening the House of Kilreat as well as the House Melato. The Bentarians, on the other hand, gain access to Lord Cassard's resources."

...and everyone is happy. "And what does Lord Cassard get? Alex was clearly beginning to get angry. I take it Bentar wants to get money from me. Fyron wants to get Bentar's vote. What's in it for me? Valerie Bellar and a lot of pain in the form of poisoners and duelists?"

"It wasn't my idea!" Taer raised her hands conciliatory. "And then, you're going to be Lord Consort!"

"I don't want!"

"Well, then you'll probably get a lot of persuasions... by very persuasive people... until they do."

"That they're going to torture me?" Alex grinned evilly.

"No way! No, of course not! But they'll use all the pressure they can get. Besides, I don't know the whole political business," Taer's voice sounded apologetic. "Maybe you were offered something that suited you fine."

Alex sat, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his face in his palms. Then he rubbed his face vigorously and looked tiredly at the girl:

"OK, we've just got one more item to deal with. We'll deal with security, then we'll figure out what to do about marriage. And by the way, where can I get a short course on History and the Political Situation for Idiots and Memoryless, because all these Melatos, Kilrets, and other Great Houses don't mean anything to me!"

Damn, I keep forgetting he's lost his memory!

"You know, I don't know how to help..." She paused, remembering that she hadn't thrown out her university notes. "Wait, maybe I'll find something, though."

She rummaged through her desk and drawers and, after a couple of minutes, found a scrapbook of notes. Pulling out info sticks of notes on the history of the Sector, Geopolitics, Imperial regulation, and overview lectures on the Great Houses, Taer threw the folder back into the desk and handed the info sticks to the lord.

"And how is this being used?" Alex asked, looking at the info sticks with interest.

"There is a slot in the terminal to plug them in, and that's it - you have access to the information."

"Then I'll be in my office reading, and you do the purchasing and hiring," Alex got up from his chair, about to leave.

"Er... of course I will, except... there's Kayrin. She is alone... probably long awake and bored. You invited her, and it's not good to leave her, after all," Taer said, a little surprised at her concern for the Baroness.

"Kayrin? Is she here yet?" Surprised the lord.

"Yes, she flew in last night. We didn't want to wake you up."

"All right, I'm off to entertain the Baroness," Alex began cheerfully. "I'll read at night," his cheerful tone faded away, and he summed up with a sour expression. "I won't get much sleep again."

The "specialist" shook her hands, like, what can you do? And she reminded him:

"Before you go to entertain the baroness, please contact the secretariat - have them open a line on me for one hundred and fifty million."

Alex just nodded in response and walked out. Taer sighed in relief, pulled a uniform and a towel from under the bed, threw them into the utility drawer, and sat down at the terminal. She had a lot of old guard acquaintances to call, and some of them to be lured into service with Lord Cassard.

There was no problem with "seducing" old acquaintances: she simply offered thirty-five thousand danarii a year each, which was about four times the salary of a Guardsman. She also talked about the accommodation. An hour later, she had three Pilots, a Lance, and a Field operator. And the need to get them transferred out of the Guard. Only Lance wasn't a problem - he was on a short contract and could break it at any time.

With a heavy sigh, Taer dialed the number of the Countess of Durlurl. There was no point in contacting the Ergo-Captain of the Guard, Lord Tsorto; he couldn't stand Lord Cassard and would have stuck. Just out of spite.

On the screen, a red griffin appeared on a grey field, enclosed in a golden circle. Beneath the circle was a stylized Golden Eye, the emblem of House Fyren's Intelligence.

After a few seconds, the screensaver disappeared, replaced by an elegant young man in a dark scarlet Guard uniform:

"Her Ladyship's secretariat, the Countess of Durlurl! What can I do for you?"

"Guardsman Taer Diltar, Arm of Lord Cassard! I would like to speak to Her Ladyship."

"Is it urgent?"

"No, no, I'll wait," Taer hastily assured him.

"I'll contact you as soon as Her Ladyship is free," the secretary nodded. "Don't stray too far from the terminal."

"I'll be waiting," Taer replied, and after saying goodbye to the secretary with a slight nod, she disconnected.

As soon as the screen shut down, she relaxed and sighed in relief. Despite the fact that Countess Durlurl was very sweet, smiling, and charming - for some unknown reason she made Taer feel a kind of unnatural trepidation and nervousness. So deep down she was glad that the conversation had not taken place.

But the emergency transfer issue can still only be resolved by her.

With a sigh, Taer pulled out the All Copeira Companies infostick and began searching for someone who could sell her a shield generator and, preferably, three landing-assault shuttles right now.

After two hours, she managed to contact about a hundred different companies and intermediaries. The landing and assault shuttles were not the sort of thing you could buy "right now" especially since she wanted a model with dismantled armaments. The generator on the other hand, apparently, could be bought from the local Zonn-Mer office, as they say, "off the showcase". At least, a charming brunette in a strict grey business suit assured her that "we can certainly come to a mutually beneficial agreement, Mrs. Diltar. Come and discuss it!"

And she would have arrived in Zonn-Mer long ago, but waiting for a call from the Countess kept her at the terminal. Not to be bored just yet, she searched for something civilian, fast, and with a very powerful field, reckoning that such a beast would be found among the special machinery for environments of increased aggression.

She was just discussing with another consultant the specifications for the Industrial Flare 'Bleek' with external protection level IM92, trying to figure out what the very 'IM' meant when suddenly a call signal flickered in the corner of the screen on another channel. She quickly said goodbye to the consultant and, inwardly freezing, changed the channel. On the screen appeared the former secretary, who said that the Countess was free. A moment later, Countess Durlurl appeared in his place in her own right.

"Hello, guardsman! What do you want with the old woman Durlurl?" She asked in a ringing voice of a girl in her twenties.

"Greetings, Your Ladyship! I wanted to ask for your assistance in placing four Guardsmen under Lord Cassard as soon as possible."

Taer remembered her as a bossy woman with a look that stared straight into her soul and long past her fifth decade. This made her even more nervous.

"What, you don't want to mess with Lord Tsorto? Well, I don't blame you - he's a mean man. But he's afraid of me," the Countess smiled dazzlingly and waved her hand as if she were a sorceress. "Give me those poor people's cases, and I'll see what I can do."

"Please, Your Ladyship."

"Well, let's see," the Countess's gaze shifted to the side. There must have been an extra screen. "A Field operator and three Stoorm Pilots," she tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Well, that could well be arranged." She took her eyes away from the screen and looked intently at Taer. "By the way, ma cherie, don't you think you're being unkind to your rescuer?"

"What is my fault, Your Ladyship?" The girl muttered, shuddering inwardly.

"Can you imagine how offended I was to hear about the duel and its details from strangers and not from you, my favorite?"

"I only found out the details this morning," Taer squeaked. "I didn't want to worry you with my speculation before then, Your Ladyship."

And her eyes are as icy and prickly as ever, an inappropriate thing flashed across the edge of her mind. And anyway, get it together. Why are you squeaking like a strangled mouse? She's not your boss anymore - technically, we have almost equal status!

The auto-training was of little help, the Countess continued to stare at Taer, and she cringed under her gaze, shrinking in size.

"Oh, you woe is my, guardsman!" The Countess stopped glaring at Taer and smiled charmingly. "When do you need these pilots and operators of yours?"

"As soon as possible, Your Ladyship!"

"All right, the personal contracts will be handed to you in half an hour," the Countess almost chanted and passed out before Taer had a chance to splash out a thank you.

As soon as the terminal shut down, Taer sighed in relief and leaned back in her chair, unbuttoning her collar:

Why do you tremble in front of her, you shameful thing? You might as well hang up a picture of her and look at it every day for practice!

Having mentally scolded herself, Taer took a shower, changed her clothes, and went to negotiate the purchase of the generator, taking with her an elegant black leather folder with the "Emerald" infoblock. She always took it with her when she wanted to look more solid.
* * *

RiP · Apr 1, 2023

Chapter 10

* * *
The generator stella was topped by a sheaf of focusing needles of gleamed metal in the center of the lawn. Around it, a swirl of shimmering heat swirled the shield being formed. The central funnel grew narrower and narrower, and the shield went into working mode, looking more and more like a perfect sphere woven from shimmering and gleaming glass.

"That's great! Eight seconds faster than the passport data! Your operator is unparalleled, Mrs. Diltar!" The manager looked up from his stopwatch and smiled - the demonstration was clearly going well.

Taer put the loose strand back in place - the forming shield was creating a tangible breeze around itself - and, with a sigh, said what she was expected to say:

"I think there's a credit to your technique as well."

"Saphiron is the best on the market in this segment!" The manager smiled dazzlingly again and went on another run, recounting the delights of the machine.

And the only unit you can buy on the Copeira, "right now", thought 'Mrs. Diltar' unhappily.

The games around the generator had been going on for the third hour. A wall of smiles and thoughtfulness greeted Taer's arrival, and 'Mrs. Diltar' was almost carried around on the arms. They took her to see the models, showed her three films about the company's products, gave her a deliciously good teymar, filled her in with technical details, agreed to a test run, and entertained her for the two hours it took the urgently needed field operator to arrive. But they did not quote a price for the installation. The manager of the Zonn-Mer Mission, the charming and gallant Atuya Rakem, was describing the benefits of the Saphiron. Taer agreed with him at great length and wondered how much it would cost to purchase this engineering marvel, but she received no direct answer. Instead, she was told to wait until the end of the test run.

The wind blowing from the unit subsided. The sphere of the shield stopped spinning, and the small waves that produced glittering ripples stopped shaking the surface. The shield became almost invisible, covering the clearing with a glass hood - the field stabilized and went to the mode of constant operation.

"Would you like to try out the unit in combat?" Atuya was pointing somewhere behind him.

Taer turned, following his hand, and saw a light Vortex blaster... if "light" was the word applicable to Vortexers at all. Three workers in gray overalls with the ZM emblem on the back had just rolled the platform with the blaster out of a nearby hangar and began lowering the supports. A hand-thick bundle of power ran from the vortexer's massive body to the depths of the hangars.

It was two hundred paces from the blaster to the edge of the shield. The heatwave would come weakened, of course.

But I can forget about the hair, and Rima would just kill me for having to walk through a scorched clearing.

The Field Operator had already changed into her Cassard colors, so she was wearing white, as was Taer. Rima didn't have her own uniform yet, and she flatly refused to show up in the garbage, so on her way to the test, the Master Operator raided the Blue Flame Castle, looting Taer's wardrobe and forcing the maids to "adjust it to fit".

"I think I'd better make do with a power dipstick," Taer's smile came out a little strained.

The manager, with a quick wave of his hand, called for a group of technicians who had huddled modestly near one of the hangars, trying not to attract attention. The technicians ran over, set up a tripod with a dipstick, and in a few seconds, a bright red beam shook the field. The shield at the point of impact turned opaque, deep white, and waves of shimmering ripples ran down the sides.

After a couple of minutes of testing, the generator was switched off, and the shield disbanded, giving everyone a dense wave of air as a goodbye.

Rima, who had listened with an embarrassed smile to a heap of enthusiastic compliments on the speed and beauty of the shield she had created, stood up from the operator's console and walked over to Taer.

"What do you think of my shield?" With a touch of smugness, she asked.

"You know damn well I don't know anything about it," Taer looked at her friend expressively, 'don't be a show-off'. "I'm not going to be able to tell you what the unit is like."

"Well, the unit as the unit," Rima shrugged. "It's new. It's not worn out, and the inertia is even a little lower than normal."

"Well, is it worth buying?"

"That's for you to decide, 'Mistress Diltar'," Rima smirked. "The generator's working, and the results are better than the passports. By the way, it showed almost six hundred "pvs" on the shield, and I'm not used to it yet. But whether you need it or not, that's for you to decide."

Taer sighed - now she was no longer sure that the installation was really necessary. On the other hand, it does no harm - only good, and it does the lord no harm. Encouraged by this thought, she summoned the manager, who diplomatically stepped aside while 'Mistress Diltar' spoke to her technician:

I think it's a good time to discuss the financial side of our cooperation.

"Of course, Mrs. Diltar," the manager nodded. "I suggest we discuss this more privately in our conference room while our technicians take care of the test reports."

He opened the door of the flyer in front of Taër and helped her in by giving her a gallant hand.

Even though I'm not wearing a dress and don't need help, it's still nice.

Soon they were in the meeting room - an oval room with large round windows and a large round table in the center, which was surrounded by oval-styled armchairs. And everything - the furniture walls, the trim on the chairs - was white. Taer, with her snow-white tunic, blended in with the surroundings somewhat more than she would have liked. Apart from the manager and 'Mrs. Diltar' there was no one in the meeting room.

"What do you think of the unit after the test run?" Atuya Rakem sat opposite, folding his palms together.

"My technician is pleased," Taer made a careless gesture with her hand. "I think your Saphirone is satisfactory, and I would like to know its price."

The manager thought for a moment and then answered with a sigh:

"You see, Mistress Diltar, Saphiron-level shield generators are not the sort of thing that has any one retail price. A lot depends on the history of our relationship with the buyer, some kind of established arrangement," Atuya Rakem sighed once more. "To my regret, our company has not cooperated with you before. And I hope that we will now find some arrangement that will be beneficial to both parties." He added with a smile.

"How much, though?" Taer genuinely didn't understand the reasoning behind this beating around the bush and wanted to hear some figure.

"In this sector, our company's pricing policy limits the minimum price for Saphirone to ninety-seven million danarii," the manager stopped talking and looked expressively as if waiting for something to happen.

"Does this price take into account our requirements?" For Taer, speed of delivery was paramount in the first place.

"Er... this is the base price, you must understand, Mistress Diltar, we certainly need to take into account the costs associated with the urgency of the order..." Atuya was expressively silent again. "As well as the interests of all the contractors..."

"Listen up, dear man, so how much?"

Shadows, what does he want to hear from me?! "Mistress Diltar" was already beginning to quietly lose her temper. I am, after all, a guardsman, not some peddler! What does he expect? That I'm going to start bargaining with him?!

"Um... well, I don't even know..." The manager was clearly confused and agitated. "Let's say we can come to an agreement around the figure of one hundred and thirty-five million denarii. What do you think?" Atuya looked again at Taer with a meaningful look. "With all interests taken into account, of course!"

Taer frowned. A third more expensive than expected. The Saigonians are only asking ninety-eight million for the installation, but 'right now' they don't have it and won't for the next three weeks. She leaned back in her chair, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. On the other hand, the lord's life is more precious. And he won't get poorer. Plus, he needs to be protected right now.

The manager, who must have seen the agony of choice on Taer's face, decided to add fuel to the fire:

"Actually, Mistress Diltar, I think you understand that due to the incredible urgency of the order, the price may be increased..." he paused for a moment, looking at her questioningly, as if waiting for a clue, but then he continued without waiting. "Let's say up to one hundred and fifty million."

"WHAT?" Taer shrieked, jumping out of her chair, almost unable to hide her anger: The bastards have realized that I need it urgently, and now they are trying to squeeze the money out of me!

Seeing his customer's twisted face, Atuya backtracked:

"It was just a suggestion. We can go back to the hundred and thirty million option... with all interests taken into account, of course," he repeated the cryptic phrase for some reason.

Taher sighed: Shadows with those bloodsuckers, let them choke on it! Five more minutes of haggling like this, and we'll have to give up a billion:

"OK, we're OK with that price, but the unit has to be delivered tonight, with a deadline of overnight."

"Of course, Mrs. Diltar, the unit will be delivered in the time frame you mentioned." The manager smiled ingratiatingly and asked a leading question. "Do you have any requests for calculations that are in your party's interest?"

"No," Taer shrugged, "we're happy with the standard method."

"So you are satisfied with our usual method of payment?" Atuya Rakem's voice was clearly relieved.

"Well, yes," she was beginning to lose patience, and there was a trace of irritation in her voice, "I told you, the standard option is completely satisfactory."

"Then I would like to know how quickly you can transfer the money once the contract has been signed," the manager looked at Taer again expressively, as if hinting at something. "I think you understand, Mistress Diltar, that we will not be able to proceed with our obligations until we receive the money."

"Give me the contract to sign and the account number. You'll have the full amount in a moment," Taer opened the folder, revealing the Emerald with its ID plugged in.

Just don't let the bastard haggle again... I can't stand it. I'll smash his face in and rip everything to shreds.

Now Taer glared at Manager, waiting for some kind of trick that would allow him to bargain again. The manager's eyes widened

"You... You..."

Bastard, I'm going to punch you in the face, Taer's body tensed involuntarily.

"...You... are an amazing partner, Mistress Diltar!" The manager wasn't just glowing. He was beaming and shining with his whole body. "It's a pleasure doing business with you! I'm so glad you chose our company... I hope we won't disappoint you!"

Atuya switched on the comm and babbled in a short gibberish:

"Ilochka, a set of documents for Mistress Diltar. Immediately!" and smiled again, looking at Taer.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and a secretary (or assistant?) practically ran into the meeting room with two infoboxes and a pile of papers in her hands. The manager snatched the documents from the hands of "Ilochka":

"The contract is one hundred and thirty-five million danarii, with a due date of one day," Atuya looked expressively at Taer as if waiting for her approval. And when she nodded, he quickly wrote something in the contract and handed the two sheets to Mrs. Diltar:

"Please sign our option. The account number is in the contract."

Taer glanced quickly at the contract and, finding nothing objectionable, signed both sheets, handing one back to the manager. He handed his copy to the secretary, who flew out of the meeting room with a tap of her heels.

"When would it be convenient for you to pay, Mistress Diltar? Perhaps some tea, teymar, or wine?"

"Right now. Give me your account number - I don't remember it."

Atuya Rakem handed her an infoblock plate on which the account number was highlighted. "Mistress Diltar" quickly, wielding her stylus somewhat briskly, entered the account number and amount into her infoblock, signed, and pressed the "transfer" button, confirming the transaction by touching her finger to the sensor. Emerald fed her request with her signature and fingerprint to the bank's executive center. The signature and fingerprint seem to have satisfied the security systems to the fullest: "Executed" was displayed on the infoblock screen, and those present plunged into an anxious wait. Taer communicator beeped with a nasty beep - a call came in from the bank:

"M... Mrs. Diltar, this is Rivol Turan, branch manager of the First Mutual Bank of Copeira. A request has been received for the transfer of one hundred and thirty-five million danarii from one of the lord's Cassard accounts assigned to you.." Rivol Turan spoke confusedly and stuttered a little. It must have been agitation.

"Yes, that's a valid request. Why, is there a problem?" problems at the bank was the last thing she needed.

"No, no, not at all, Mrs Diltar! But please forgive me, it's just that in the case of such amounts, additional confirmation by your personal code is required."

"Wait," Taer muttered to the com and quickly entered her code into the infobox. "Well? Everything all right now?"

"Yes, all is well, Mistress Diltar. Your transfer request has been fulfilled. Once again, please forgive me for unnecessarily disturbing your ladyship!" The manager seemed to get so excited that he called her "ladyship".

'Her Ladyship Mistress Diltar' turned off the comm and looked up at 'The Honourable Atuya Rakem', who sat motionless and seemingly not even breathing, waiting for the translation to finish.

"The money is in your account."

The manager pressed the button on his infoblock with a trembling hand, and when he saw the updated account data, he let out a long, long sigh, wiping the sweat on his forehead with his hand:

"All is well, the money has been received. You are a fantastic business partner, Mrs. Diltar, and I am very glad you chose our company! You can rest assured that we will fulfill ALL our obligations!" he said the word "all" with a special emphasis and asked the question with a kind of incomprehensible entreaty. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Diltar?"

He's so excited and starting to repeat himself, isn't he? Taer thought wearily, getting fed up with the whole thing.

"No, I think I'll be on my way. And I expect to have the unit at my place tonight," she got up from her desk, threw the contract into the infoblock folder, and with a careless gesture, tucked it under her arm, headed resolutely for the exit.

The manager followed her, beaming with happiness and repeating incessantly:

"I assure you, Mistress Diltar, our company will fulfill all its obligations in the shortest possible time!"

In the foyer, she picked up Rima, who was chatting sweetly or flirting with three managers at once. When they were seated in the flyer, the manager, exuding streams of charm, asked Taer in passing what her favorite color was.

"Pink," she replied with undisguised sarcasm, thinking to herself: Is he hitting on me, the miserable peddler?"

In the flyer, she relaxed a little, chatting with Rima - she had been told a bunch of fresh navy news and gossip. Taer even felt something akin to nostalgia for the old days:

How much easier it was for me to be a Palang-Lieutenant, no need to negotiate and bargain with all sorts of assholes, I wasn't catched by the freaks in the SS, Countess Durlurl probably didn't even know I existed, no need to think what would happen if the lord was killed, she sighed regretfully. I didn't care about any lords at all! The only thing I could have been in danger of was a reprimand from my superiors. No, I was drawn to the higher realms!

She sighed sadly again. Rima continued to babble on about the rumored affair between Captain Glimi and Daim Evio, hinting that Dame Evio's husband was aware of it and didn't mind.

On the other hand, I'm obviously having a lot more fun here - at least there's just no time to think about who's sleeping with whom, Taer smirked and reminded herself of the pleasantries. And they pay four times as much!

After half an hour's flight, complete with casual chatter, they were outside the castle. Rima had not had time to see much on her first visit to the Blue Flame - she was in a hurry to loot her wardrobe and fly off to the trials - so Taer slowed down and put the flyer into a gentle turn, giving her a chance to admire the castle and the gardens.

The huge lake at the back of the castle glowed in the sunset rays. The weather was calm, and the surface of the water was covered with a multitude of blooming Isoris that looked like tiny sparks from above.

"It's beautiful!" Rima whispered, leaning against the window.

Taer remained silent, also captivated by the view. Then Rima turned to her with the most conspiratorial look:

"Shall we go swimming? The water must be warm..." she purred.

"In the lake? You're craz..." Taer began but was interrupted by the piercing beep of the collision warning system before she could finish.

The system simply wasn't installed on normal flyers, so it took her a few moments to figure out what was beeping. They were flying the service Isato-Planet, and luxury cars of this class are packed with all sorts of safety-related equipment, including a collision warning system. Intersecting vectors flashed on the navigation screen, and an inscription appeared: "Attention! Intersecting courses, excessive speed vector, possible collision!"

Taer ditched the vehicle to the left and turned around - a bright red sports flyer was quickly approaching from behind, clearly coming in at the rear. Various possibilities swirled in her mind - who it could be and what it would be shooting at her with. She was being chased by a coupe convertible, which meant it could be fired from anything, like a rocket launcher.

While her mind was thinking about the situation, her body reacted instantly and on automatic: the turn to the left became even steeper, the nose dropped, and the vehicle went into a steep dive, performing a "split", trying to jump under the belly of the cabriolet into its "blind" zone. The flyer went upside down, flying upside down for a few seconds, green treetops whizzing overhead, Rima and the safety system yelling as they both thought they didn't have enough altitude left to make a U-turn. She turned the vehicle back to the normal position and found her pursuer, who didn't repeat her maneuver, but took advantage of the sport flyer to make a minimum radius turn and stepped into her path, only a little way off.

Taer frantically considered what to do - her flyer was flying almost over the treetops, so there was no way to gain speed in a dive, and competing in a straight line with a sports coupe was foolish. So she swung the vehicle sharply to the right, flying behind the castle, using it as cover. The wall came within a palm of her hand, the flyer was still a bit low in the turn, and she was practically scraping her belly on the ground as she flew past the front door of the castle. At that moment, the pursuers' flier jerked out from behind the castle - its pilot must have lost control of the turn. The machine tumbled toward the ground, then suddenly froze, halted by the emergency automatics, its nose up in an awkward sort of way.

Taer drew her blaster, nodded for Rima to follow suit, and, making sure her friend had a shot at the pursuers, drove the vehicle towards the frozen red flyer.

"Surrender!" through laughter, Lord Cassard announced - he was sitting in the pilot's seat.

"Taer, you buried your talent in the ground! You could have been a fighter ace!" Baroness Rionale chuckled next to Alex in the passenger seat.

"You took a great risk, Your Lordship. What if I had opened fire?" Taer put the phaser away and climbed out of the flyer.

Jokes like two young idiots! And she didn't think too: why would someone else's flyer be over the estate?

"Ahh, don't be a killjoy!" The Baroness jumped deftly out of the flyer. The two differently directed fields of gravity and height didn't embarrass her. "I was just teaching Alex to fly the flyer, and this was an opportunity," she patted the side of the flyer, "but as for shooting, it's Faison-Osaro," she said, "You know what kind of fields it has."

The Lord straightened the car, putting it horizontally, and jumped to the ground too:

"How's procurement?"

"Successfully, my lord, the main components have already been purchased and will be delivered tonight," Taer said in an official tone.

"Are you buying something?" Kayrin asked, hugging Alex as if unintentionally.

"It's just trivial stuff," he brushed it off.

What he's secreting isn't clear - the generator stella isn't the sort of thing that's hard to spot. In fact, I see Kayrin hasn't been wasting any time!

Taer excused herself and hurried away, saying she was busy. Which was true; there was a lot of work to be done.

"Is Lord Cassard's service always this much fun?" Rima asked as they drove the flyer into the garage.

Taer grinned grimly in response:

"It's hilarious, especially with Baroness Rionale around. By the way, be careful with her. She's a bitch..." she hastened to warn her friend.

"Is she his date?"

"No, kin. Although who's to say - she has plans for Lord Cassard, so if you decide to flirt with him, look around more often."

After handing Rima over to the steward - she had yet to be housed in the castle - Taer went to her own quarters to find replacements for the flyers. She did so until late at night, interrupted only once by the arrival of the pilots and the lance.

Almost overnight, she managed to find a suitable option - a "light" transporter for worlds with high radiation. Its shield characteristics were not much inferior to the landing shuttle, and its appearance was quite decent. She was assured by the company representative that she would have the three vehicles tomorrow morning, with the contract ready for signature.

After midnight, the Zonn-Mer heavy transporter arrived with the generator. The technicians were hustling around the mounted stele in the spotlight, pushed by Rima - the start-up of the generator was not to be delayed - and Taer stood to the side, watching the commotion. She was tired but content: a clear plan of action had been devised and clearly implemented.

I'm a good girl!

After launching the installation, as the technicians were already loading back into their transporter, Atuya Rakem approached her and called her aside:

"Our company would like to offer a small gift to you and Lord Cassard in honor of the successful transaction"

The manager's voice exuded fir, and the technicians behind him were just rolling out of the transporter two sports coupe convertibles. And one of them was bright pink.

I could have said my favorite color was a black pearl, blue, or red... But - no - a heightened pest of character, Taer though aloof.

"I hope that our cooperation will grow," Atuya continued to rant, the technicians, meanwhile, drove the pink flyer towards Taer.

"Erm... Look, sir, I think it's unnecessary, and then..." she started to object but was interrupted by the manager:

"Not at all, Mrs. Diltar! You are an excellent business partner. We have never signed such contracts so easily and quickly! And it would be disrespectful to you and Lord Cassard not to thank you!"

The manager took out a stack key with a pink fob, pressed the key, and the convertible opened the boot. He made an inviting gesture. Taer walked over and peered into the boot - there was a black leather folder similar to the one she carried her Emerald in.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Performance of our company's obligations with ALL interests in mind."

Atuya undid the clasp and opened the folder without taking it out of the boot. The tight stacks of five thousand denarii gleamed dully in the darkness. Making sure Taer saw the contents, the manager quickly clasped the folder and handed her the keys to the flyer:

"As we agreed, Mistress Diltar, I hope you are satisfied with our standard payment scheme!" He was silent for a moment and then continued. "I think you understand that the contract with you was very hasty, so we simply did not have time to fulfill all our obligations in full. But I can assure you that our company will meet them as soon as possible and I will personally supervise the delivery of the accompanying equipment. Goodbye."

With these words, Atuya Rakem jumped into the vehicle, which began to slowly ascend, leaving a distraught Taer alone with a folder full of money.

Taer stood on the platform, the quiet rustle of the generator warming up could be heard in the distance, and she began to feel incomprehensible jitters - she suddenly realized how much money was in the folder.

Over a million for sure!

She started to unzip the folder to make sure she saw the correct denomination and suddenly froze, realizing what had happened.

Great shadows, it's a cashback! I, a Guardsman, an arm of Lord Cassard, took a bribe like some clerk!

She suddenly felt very hurt, almost to tears: eight years of clean service and now this. She wandered, faintly aware of what she was doing, to her room, clutching the folder.

But I didn't ask for it or even hint at it - they literally shoved it at me! It was just a cry from the soul that was cut short by a mean-spirited voice:

Well, well, that's what they all say. Barra didn't ask too, but of course, he's clean as a tear.

In her room, Taer turned on the suppressor and, without knowing why, counted the money - ten stacks of one hundred cards - five million danarii. She smiled sadly.

My wages for more than a hundred years.

Putting the money back in the folder, Taer tried not to think about it, but she couldn't - her mind was filled with more vivid images: her own ship, her being disgraced by being kicked out of the Guard. To distract herself, she showered and then tried to sleep. But her awakened conscience and Guardian honor wore her out in just over half an hour. And after another half hour, Taer, having successfully exhausted herself, made a decision: To shadows career - honor is dearer! Judging by the security terminal, the lord was awake in the study alone.

With a sigh, she took the folder with the money and, dropping her head, went to turn herself in.
* * *

RiP · Apr 5, 2023

Chapter 11

* * *
The bright red flyer pierced the white cloud and continued to gain altitude. There was no "lack of thrust" - the machine went steeply upward, gaining speed like a rocket. The white sea of clouds remained far below, the horizon gradually curved, gaining roundness. The speed of the flier was indicated by the figures on the dashboard and the white flashes of compaction in front of the pointy nose of the vehicle. There was nothing else but the gentle breeze in the hair and the steady chanting of the engine behind. In front and around, as far as the eye could see, was only the sky, which was growing darker and darker, and for a moment there seemed to be an uneven flicker of stars.

"I think it's too early for us to go into space," Kayrin murmured.

Her breath tickled Alex's ear pleasantly, and her tight breasts rested against his shoulder. The Baroness sat half-embracing him, her hands resting on his arms. The whole thing was called "learning to drive a flyer" by Baroness Rionale.

Alex realized he was being shamelessly seduced, but first, he liked it, and second, anything flying had been a weakness of his since childhood.

"As you say!" he smiled back.

The grip is on himself! And the sides of the flyer swelled up with milky white blasts of compressed air, turning into two huge snow-white wings. The sky and the ground reversed, and the machine looped downward. The overload gauge poured yellow. Twenty-two units! Alex couldn't believe his eyes. He was sitting in the sports convertible on the sofa that was here instead of the seats, unbuckled - because there was nothing to buckle up with - and he felt nothing at all! Although, in theory, he should have been pressed into the floor with two tonnes of force. Knowing about the inertial compensator from the Baroness' words and feeling it working for myself were "two big differences".

Still, I bloody like it here! Alex thought as he put the vehicle into a horizontal flight. The flyer flew in a canyon of clouds. The surrounding beauty was breathtaking, a light breeze was blowing in his face, and an incredibly beautiful girl was smiling charmingly beside him, the collar of her shirt generously unbuttoned to reveal a stunning view.

In the back of my mind, however, the unpleasant thought lurked that all this beauty was accompanied by purposeful guys who wanted his dead body, and the girl clearly had some selfish motives. But this thought did not hinder the enjoyment of the flight.

There was a melodious chime and a yellow square with a lightning bolt in the center flashed on the central panel.

"Less than a third of the energy left," Kayrin explained the signal. "Time to go back, and I'd better slow down, or we'll miss it," she stopped talking and then spoke again, probably not to Alex anymore, but in a cooler, more commanding tone. "Navigation lay in a course for the departure point!"

Obediently, the flyer's electronic brains plotted the direction of the castle on the central screen, and in a few minutes, the machine emerged from the clouds in direct line of sight of it.

"Look," Kayrin pointed to the right.

On a parallel course, but much lower, another flyer flew, looking like a silver droplet from above.

So observant, Alex marveled as he guided his vehicle downwards.

"It must be Taer," the Baroness concluded.

There was now a two-hundred-meter difference in altitude between the machines, and the flyer going below was clearly visible - the model, indeed, resembled the one the "security specialist" was flying.

"Let's parrot her!" Kayrin's tone was quite playful. She gave a serious expression and pointed to the silver flyer. "Come on, fighters! To Fyron!"

"Yes!" Alex decided to play along.

The machine lay on its left side and went into a combat approach like a World War II fighter, by all the rules, from the side of the sun. For a moment, the flyer flew upside down, and Alex was once again surprised that it wasn't falling out. The target was fast approaching, increasing in size - a scarlet griffin was already visible on board - when suddenly, having must have spotted the 'attackers'. The silver one jerked to the left and then - collapsed down, turning around near the ground, and reversing, under the belly of the attacker.

Alex didn't risk repeating such a maneuver - he simply took advantage of the incredible maneuverability of his vehicle, turning in an almost zero-radius turn, and dashed after in pursuit. The speed advantage was clearly on his side, but the 'victim' suddenly took a sharp right, swerving behind the castle and pressing up against its wall. He threw his vehicle following. The castle wall was rapidly approaching, and it was clear that the turning radius was too small and was about to hit the wall. A left turn, away from the wall, and the vehicle was dangerously close to the ground. A sharp jerk. Handles in to gain altitude. The flyer kicked up and down, whirling like a skittish horse, hurtling across the ground. The world spun at an unbelievable speed.

And suddenly, everything stopped. The vehicle froze, staring nose up into the sky, stopping a few meters from the ground. Alex burst out laughing nervously, with hysterical notes - he hadn't had time to be frightened in flight, but now he was scared, even though it was already over. The Baroness was genuinely amused; she did not seem the least bit frightened by what had happened.

After all, with that kind of recklessness, the first day's driving could get you killed, Alex decided. Though the Baroness had assured him that the Osaro could crash into a rock at full speed without any harm - the fields and inertia compensators would hold up.

She was persuasive, but there was no sense in checking it out for himself. He was still in shock from the fact that he was driving the flyer himself and at such speed.

It all started when Alex, talking to the Baroness, dropped the fact that he didn't know how to fly a flyer because he'd "forgotten everythingЭ. Kayrin immediately offered to teach him, and right away. She was jolly, easy-going, and with a great sense of humor, so the three hours that Alex "entertained" Baroness Rionale flew by without a trace. She was a rare pleasure to spend time with. The joy was marred only by the fact that this NLP enthusiast wanted something out of him, and her interest was clearly not dictated by the depth of his personality.

Anyway, the baroness went to change because her dark blue short sundress with an inflated waist was, in her own words, "not suitable for driving a flyer". Five minutes later, Kayrin was in front of an admiring audience in a short-sleeved white shirt with a high stand-up collar. The high collar, however, was unbuttoned by more than three buttons revealing a gorgeous chest. The shirt was accompanied by light blue trousers and moccasins. After all the compliments they were due, they went to the garage to choose the most suitable apparatus for the trainee.

In the huge room filled with a cloud of machinery, the Baroness gave him a full-scale tour, telling him about the various models and expertly explaining their advantages and disadvantages - it seemed that sports flyers were her little weakness.

"You know, this doesn't seem right to me!" Kayrin ran her hand lovingly over the shiny side of another sports engineering marvel. "A man who hardly ever drives has such a huge collection of sports flyers. They're supposed to fly, they're built for speed, and you keep them locked up!"

"I admit my fault," Alex smiled guiltily. "I'm ready to make amends immediately and start flying. As soon as you choose what we're going to fly."

Kayrin stopped in front of a large convertible with a sharp, predatory nose painted bright red.

"Great shadows, Faison-Osaro!" she almost groaned. "Where'd you get that thing? You're not..." she paused, remembering something. "What am I talking about, though? It would be strange if it wasn't here."

The Baroness slammed her palm on the bonnet:

"We're flying it!"

"Is this the suitable vehicle for the first time?" Alex hesitated.

"More than that! Powerful fields, an autopilot that makes the machine fly better than a pilot, excellent emergency automatics..." Kayrin went on to detail the charms of the machine.

As it turned out, it was the fastest production convertible: a thrust generator of monstrous power, easily taking five times the sound, with an inertial compensator, with a limit of eight hundred units, and an arbitrary overload vector that would do honor to any fighter, if it wasn't too expensive to put on fighters.

"But most importantly," the Baroness said with a gasp. "Dynamic control plane generation system"

She pointed her hand to a spherical bulge at the side:

Normally flyers, even sports flyers, do not use aerodynamic control systems except for stabilization. But the Osaro's special field generators create differently shaped wings and stabilizers, depending on the flight profile and control torque required. With an experienced pilot, this machine literally dances.

Oh! It's like she's reading! Pretty girl - and a sports car fan, who'd have thought? Pretty girls rarely have hobbies at all - maybe aristocratic origins have an effect?

Kayrin smiled slyly and swung herself over the side, plopping down on the sofa:

"Get in," she slammed her palm down beside her. "I'll teach you how to fly."

Alex opened the door and sat down next to it - there were no armchairs, just a single rather wide sofa with a low back covered in something that looked like velvet. The interior was trimmed in leather and chrome metal.

Aristocrats degrade with taste, he smiled and ran his finger over the inlay on the light-polished wood dashboard.

While the Baroness was taking the flyer out of the garage, she had time to tell him what Osaro had had to pay for all his wonders. First, the price of a million and a half denarii, and second, the almost hand-assembly and the incredibly complex calibration of the equipment, which made them scarce and left the Osaro, as for most of Fizon's products, in a queue. And quite an impressive one at that. They consumed a great deal of energy, making the normal energy cells empty almost immediately. A special power unit with an enormous capacity had been developed for the Osaro. They would only fly for an hour and a half, though, and then they would have to recharge from the generators. There was no quick cell change system like on most fliers.

All in all, a very smart and exclusive machine. I wonder. Why is it here if Lord Cassard wasn't a fan of piloting himself?

The flyer jumped out of the garage, the generators hummed melodiously, and the vehicle went up, gaining altitude at a rapid pace.

As the nose stared up into the sky, Alex frantically searched for something to cling to but was surprised to realize that he was in no hurry to fall out. As it turned out, the apparatus, for the comfort of the noble public, was equipped with a small gravity-generator, which created its own field of gravity, always directed at the floor of the machine, so that there was no need to worry about the contents of the stomachs and the calmness of the vestibular apparatus.

When the vehicle came to a halt, hovering silently several kilometers high, Kayrin turned to him and smiled dazzlingly:

"We'll practice here - it's much safer at altitude, and there's no risk of hitting something hard. Come on, get behind the wheel, and I'll teach you."

The baroness moved to make room for Alex at the controls and began to explain what they were for. The controls were strikingly similar to an airplane, except that the pedals were used to control the thrust of the generators when flying "helicopter style," and the left and right turn of the nose was set by turning the control handle around its axis.

So he started to learn. At first, it wasn't so good: the flyer yawed sharply, and Alex kept trying to turn into a plane-like turn and pedal the nose, causing the flyer to jerk sharply up or down. The Baroness, hugging Alex and placing her hands on his, helped steer the machine by parrying the excessively abrupt and wrong maneuvers. Gradually the thousands of hours in her favorite flight simulators took their toll, and Alex became "quite proficient at flying the flyer for the first time," in Kayrin's words... but she was in no hurry to stop hugging him as she "helped steer," though.

Eventually, lulled by the compliments, he relaxed and almost flew into the ground, mismanaging his control in pursuit of Taer.

Yeah, it's not the same thing to fly behind a computer screen as it is to fly in person, and you're just showing off, you bloody aviator!

After surrendering to the ace fighter, Alex chatted briefly with Taer. He found out that the security plan had been successfully implemented, and, somewhat relieved by this news, he continue to entertain his dear guest. He did so until almost late at night. The Baroness taught him how to play the local mix of cards and chess - to Alex's surprise, he did well and even won four times, which made him regret his decision to play for "fun" rather than "undress" as Kayrin had suggested.

However, she might have given in on purpose.

Then they went fencing, which ended in his complete defeat, though now the Baroness was definitely going easy. Alex declined the horseback ride for fear of exposing himself completely. So they went for a walk through the evening gardens. He should say night gardens because the sun had long since set, and he felt it was already about midnight.

The gardens surrounding the castle were illuminated by lights concealed in the dense grass at the roots of the trees. The trees and trunks glowed with a mysterious bluish light that gently enveloped everything around them.

The atmosphere is the most romantic.

They sat on the grass beside a small river, the starry sky above shining with an unearthly beauty, illuminated by the reddish light of a crimson nebula, and somewhere in the distance, some nocturnal creatures were trilling.

"I wonder what it's singing?" Alex asked, sitting down on the grass beside the baroness.

"They are finches, little fluffy animals with long tails. They nest in the trees and sing beautifully in the spring. It's just a little early for them," Kayrin moved closer and snuggled against him. "It's getting chilly."

At night her eyes, already black, seemed like bottomless lakes filled with gleaming darkness. The reddish light of the mist played on her full, slightly open lips.

If you don't hug and kiss her now, you'll be a complete idiot! And if you kiss her, you'll be a complete fool.

In Alex, desire fought against freshly acquired paranoia: ///Two assassination attempts in four days - and the Baroness is up to something.

"Yes, indeed, it's chilly. Let's go to the castle," his paranoia won out, and he decided not to test his resilience to temptation any further.

Alex stood up and offered his hand to Kayrin, and she rose easily and followed him to the castle, showing no sign of disappointment. The lights were shining outside the castle, and there was a lot of activity - they must have brought in the equipment Taër had talked about.

What on earth does she want from me? Alex wondered after walking the baroness to her bedroom door. Afterward, Kayrin asked for help in choosing an outfit for tomorrow's festivities, which she said required a 'man's eye'. Guessing that the fitting would end, or even begin, with the spectacle of a woman's nudity, Alex refused, citing the late hour, a desire for sleep, and a complete ignorance of women's fashion.

Because a naked Baroness Rionale is not something I can resist.

Kayrin didn't push or talk her way out of it. She smiled sweetly and said goodnight as if to say in passing that she herself would not be able to sleep for a long time.

For once, I get hit on by a stunningly beautiful girl with some ambiguous offers and - sure enough - some kind of set-up!

Alex wandered towards his office, lamenting the unfairness of what was happening. Lecturing on history and geopolitics instead of going to the Baroness was perverse, but it was, in his opinion, the only reasonable option.

Alex, lounging in his chair, stared at the screen floating in front of him. The notes that Taer had given him in the morning turned out to be video recordings of lectures with pop-up text comments, which must have been made by the owner of the notes.

"So! As you and I found out in last week's lecture, the Tail sector became a unified cultural and political space three thousand years ago when Lord Heroti Tail, together with the great houses, defeated the houses of outcasts at the Battle of Toliara, uniting all thirteen kingdoms, something we all celebrate every year during the Unification Festival."

A thin old man with a small beard, giving a lecture, turned to a huge hologram depicting star systems connected by white lines. Borders flashed red around them. They began to transform as they merged, some of the star systems, marked by blue circles, turned grey and became translucent. A text commentary ran across the screen, +++Thirteen conquered kingdoms under the rule of Emperor Teyla the First 'Unifier' transformed into ten Great Houses." The old man coughed into his fist, urging the students to be quiet, and continued:

"Thus ended the era of the battling kingdoms and began the era of Empire Tail," the lecturer paused, seeking out someone in the audience with his eyes. And, pointing his hand beyond the camera's line of sight, he offered:

"Count Vastol, give us your assessment of the reasons for the collapse of the Tail Empire."

"Ahem... the Empress Dialla provoked a conflict with the Great Houses with her decree on 'Reform of Administrative Boundaries', which resulted in a revolt of the Guard," the Count had a brittle, youthful voice and spoke, stammering heavily, probably from excitement.

The old man pursed his lips with a sour expression:

"Superficial, young man, superficial. Does anyone have anything to add?"

The lecturer roared his eyes around the audience again. His gaze fixed squarely on the lens. And Alex heard a low whisper, in which he recognized Taer's voice:

"...Not me, not me..."

"Respected Diltar, anything to add?"

"The recognition of the Tallana Separatists and their incorporation into the Federation negated the competence of the central authority, the Tail Empire could no longer secure the political interests of the Great Houses," Taer muttered.

"Not bad..." the old man nodded approvingly. "But incomplete!"

He put his hands behind his back and turned again to the map:

By admitting Tallana, the Federation had sent a clear message to the Great Houses. Now they could resolve their problems without looking back at the Empress. They could apply for membership and gain the protection of the Federation fleet at any time. This led to a series of intermittent territorial conflicts, in which a House which achieved the desired configuration of borders immediately applied for entry into the Federation on an "as is" basis. Of course, the best results in this situation went to the Houses that acted first.

The lecturer turned to the audience again and pointed his hand at someone:

"Name the parties who benefited most from the collapse of the Tail Empire."

"Peltar, Fyron, and the Separatists who have joined Tallan!" The young man who had jumped up possessed a distinctly nerdy aura.

"That's right! So, as we have found out, there have been many situations in the history of our Sector where a change in the balance of external forces has been the trigger for the resolution of conflicts between the Houses. So we come to the topic of our lecture today..."

A duplicate inscription ran on the screen: +++Rebellion of the Orders as a major factor in creating the current scheme of geopolitical balance between the Great Houses.

"...The Federation, being the guarantor of peace, deprived the Great Houses of the ability to resolve conflicts militarily. And House Peltar's historically well-developed ties with the Orders and the federal center have led to a power imbalance. As a result, the economically and demographically more developed and militarily powerful Houses - Fyron and Melato - were political pariahs. The possibility of political lobbying at the federal center and the use of the power resource of the federal fleet made House Peltar dominant in our sector."

The lecturer stopped and looked at the red-haired, curly-haired girl who was persistently reaching out her hand:

"I know what you want to tell us, Marquess Cheryl: that House Peltar kept the aggressive aspirations of House Fyron in check and was the guarantor of the peace that allowed our Sector to flourish, almost a thousand and a half years without knowing war. Isn't that right?"

The girl lowered her hand and said something inaudibly. The old man frowned and continued:

"As I told you before, we have to try to abstract away from ethical issues - we should only be interested in the balance of power and the factors influencing it. The balance of power tells us that the weak House dictated its will to the strong, relying on external power. And as for the millennium of peace, I think the representatives of House Fyron will disagree with you. But we are not here for polemics - let's get back to the topic of our lecture. The situation with the domination of House Peltar continued right up to the event we all know as the Mutiny of the Orders, which happened twenty-one years ago. The adherent orders of the 'guardians' revolted against the Emperor, demanding that he resign his Imperium. House Peltar sided with the Orders, which was predictable but not reasonable..."

The red-haired Marquise began to reach out again, but the lecturer did not notice her:

"The Emperor did not even have to enter the Sector - at his command, the combined fleets of House Fyron and House Ispar preemptively destroyed the fleet of House Peltar at the bases during the battle of Pella."

An inscription appeared at the bottom of the screen, announcing that the combined fleet was commanded by Lord Galen Cassard, who had also planned the attack.

It turns out Lord Cassard's father was not in the lowest ranks in the Navy.

"The attack on Pella was carried out without a declaration of war during negotiations!" shouted the girl from her seat, tired of dragging her arm.

"Quite right, Marquess Cheryl! With that, the first staggering blow put an end to organized resistance in space. And after the planetary shields fell, House Peltar was no longer a tangible force in the Taile sector. Seven systems were occupied and handed over by House Fyron to its ally, House Ispar, and had it not been for the mercy of the Emperor, House Peltar might have ceased to exist. Thereafter all the Great Houses swore a personal oath to the Emperor, becoming his mainstay against the Orders and the remnants of the Guilds armies. As you know, the Emperor's gratitude was great. This explains the position held by the Great Houses and the nobility of our sector in general. As well as the freedom in matters of self-government. And here we must first consider the influence on these processes of the Empire's officer corps, staffed at the time of the mutiny and immediately afterward, predominantly by nobles from the Great Houses of our sec..."

Alex stopped the record and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was sleepy, and the thought of Baroness Rionale waiting for him in his bedroom prevented him from concentrating on his notes. He was about to go back to watching the lecture when there was a shy knock on the office door.

Something new - usually everyone just walks in. I wonder, who needs me? Deciding that the pause was dragging on and that the killers were unlikely to knock, he turned off the screen and gave his face a benevolently neutral expression:

"Come in!"

Alex secretly hoped it was Kayrin, but the reality was slow to meet expectations. The door opened and Taer entered the office with a drooping head.

"Has something happened?" The depressed state of the "specialist" did not escape him.

"Yes, Your Lordship. Here..." she said in a trembling voice, holding out a plump leather folder to him.

Alex took the folder in his hands - there was clearly something weighty inside. He wrestled with the clasps, but without much success. Taer stepped closer and helped her with the locks, the file opened and stacks of cards spilled out onto the table.

"What is it?" the lord inquired, looking curiously at the gold embossing on the dark and smooth surface of the cards.

"A bribe," Taer sighed, "which I took..." she added quietly, looking down at the floor. Her face went from red to pale.

Alex opened one packet, tearing off the blue ribbons with which it was bound, and began to study the card with interest. It was thin and supple, almost square with rounded edges as wide as the palm of his hand. "Five thousand denarii," he read the inscription along the edge.

"Why don't you tell me more?" Alex put the card aside and looked up at Taer, who was clearly not at ease.

"Yes, Your Lordship," the "specialist" almost whispered and began to tell the story of her "fall".

As she told him, Alex became more and more amused.

Poor naive child, she signs a contract for one hundred and thirty-five million danarii and doesn't notice that she is being heavily offered a payback, although it's clear that such contracts are not made that easily. I wonder how much the payback is?

He interrupted Taer's story and inquired:

"They had to give a base price. How much?"

"Ninety-seven million danarii, it seems, Your Lordship."

And the contract was for one hundred and thirty-five. So nice! Thirty-eight million on top - more than a third extra! He was curious as to how much that was in dollars; according to his initial estimate, the dinarii was about eight bucks. So, roughly speaking, they pay back about three hundred million on a billion-dollar contract.

While Alex pondered, calculating the amount of payback in dollars, Taer finished her story and froze, waiting for the "verdict". He sighed and carefully, concealing a smile, asked:

"And how much is there?"

"Five million danarii, Your Lordship," the "specialist" was pitiful to look at.

"Taer, Taer... you know, I didn't expect this from you," he added sadness and reproach to his voice. Alex was about to hold a proper pause, but seeing the quivering lips and red eyes that looked like they weren't crying just because of the Guardsman's pride, he took pity. "You've been robbed, Guardsman!" he laughed.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" whispered Taer. She was a little taken aback by the turn of events.

"That's what I've meant. They've added thirty-eight million on top, and you've only got five. A real robbery! You were supposed to get one-third to one-half of the markup, that's ten or fifteen million danarii. They must have seen your inexperience and decided to warm their hands a little."

/Although it's strange to cheat on a partner on a billion-worth contract - the management should eat everybody alive for that.

"But I didn't ask for a kickback at all!" Taer protested.

"You agreed to it. First, they asked you about the markup, then they asked you about the payment scheme and your interests - you said 'the usual'. So you got the 'business as usual'," Alex nodded at the money scattered across the table.

"What am I supposed to do now, My Lord?" asked the slightly relieved girl.

"My Lord" looked intently at Taer. The situation frankly amused him. The strange dark squares with gold letters did not feel like money. Especially not his money. And Taer's naivety in the field of applied economics might have made him laugh if the girl had not reacted so acutely to the bribe she had received.

On the other hand, if you had been bribed with thirty million dollars - I'd have looked at you - your hands would have been trembling, too. And there she is, giving herself up! She seems to have a morbid sense of pride and a hypertrophied sense of honor. Though maybe that's the norm for a Guardsman. And in fact, such honesty should be encouraged in every way possible! He was about to rake the money back into the folder and give it to Taer when a thought suddenly occurred to him. I've got some unaccounted-for money in my hands that could come in handy, especially since someone really wants to kill me. For instance, they might need to buy some services secretly. And you shouldn't deprive a 'specialist' of financial motivation either.

He counted the cards in the bundle - there were exactly a hundred of them - and scooped the money back into the folder, leaving one bundle on the table.

"What to do? First, you should switch on the suppressor, just in case..."

"I turned it on before I came in, Your Lordship," the girl pulled the pendant from her shirt - it hummed softly, the light in the center glowing softly yellow.

"... Second, you should sit down, relax, and remember that we switched to 'you' a long time ago," Alex continued, waiting for her to settle into her chair. "Third, you should make an appointment for this Atuyu Rakem and ask when you'll get the rest of it."

"What?" Taer wondered genuinely, "I - a Guardsman - have to demand a bribe?! I cannot! It's dishonorable!"

"Take your time," Alex interrupted her. "For a start, it's not a bribe - think of it as a special operation - you're not taking it for yourself. We might need some clean, unaccounted-for money, especially since someone's trying to kill me."

Taer thought about it in a way she hadn't thought about.

"Okay, your high... Alex, I'll do as you say," she looked him in the eye and asked. "You don't think it's my fault?"

"No, of course - I think you're a man of incredible self-control and very honest. I bet those mugs in the Office steal a lot more than that, and no one who comes forward to confess! All in all, I think you acted like a true Guardsman, and you should be proud of what you did because it's not for everyone to risk their careers in the name of honor."

God, what am I saying? Good thing she's in shock and not thinking straight. Alex, seeing Taer's condition, thought a few compliments might do her good, but he seemed to be going a bit overboard.

"Thank you," Taer smiled appreciatively. "I was afraid you wouldn't understand," she brushed a small tear from her eyelash and stood up, heading for the exit. "Shall I go?"

"Wait. Generally speaking, people who help carry out such operations are paid a percentage to five percent of the amount. But taking into account your moral expenses and your demonstrated integrity, I think ten percent is the right figure for this operation," he stood up and handed the wad to Taer.

"I can't! It's not right..." she protested, but there was no firmness in her voice.

"Take it! It's a well-earned reward for showing honor and restraint!"

Taer took the packet, muttered some words of thanks, and headed for the exit, dazed by the events that had occurred. At the door, the voice of the Lord caught up with her:

"By the way, do you know if there's a safe in here?" It occurred to Alex that keeping five million in a folder was not a good idea.

It turned out that there was a safe, and more than one, but no one knew the code to the main safe except Lord Cassard, and now no one at all. So Alex limited himself to a key-locked mini-safe in a desk drawer.

After sending Taer to sleep, Alex "read" the notes for a few more hours and went to his bedroom. Before going to bed, he opened the wardrobe, find something he thought was a scarf, and put it next to the bed.

Well, let's see what you have to offer me, gentlemen well-wishers.

The scarf was a bright scarlet color.
* * *

RiP · Apr 8, 2023

Chapter 12

* * *
A huge white platform, richly decorated with scarlet escapes of embossed designs on the sides, floated above the rippling sea of people like a ship. Large flags with a red griffin at their center hovered over the platform, further enhancing the resemblance to the ship by resembling snow-white sails. All around, except for the narrow strip over which the platforms flew, the crowd raged. The people filled the entire avenue and the surrounding streets, as well as the accessible balconies and rooftops, shouting, waving flags, and throwing ribbons of color toward the platforms, which fell in a bright arc to the pavement. The snowfall was slowing down as it overcame the protective field covering the platforms, making clouds float in the air.

The platform - a hundred meters long and shaped like a huge boat with low sides - could comfortably accommodate five hundred people if not a thousand. Alex stood alone in the middle of the gigantic structure, and he was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Well, OK, not alone, but with Taer, but that doesn't make it any easier!

The "specialist" stood to the right like a statue - not moving or blinking. And Alex could more than understand it - while the other platforms held several hundred nobles each, cheerfully waving back at the crowds and scattering small orbs from the platforms in the air in a shower of colorful sparks, the lone Lord Cassard and his guardsman got a disproportionate amount of attention, making him feel like a rare animal in a zoo on Open Door Day.

Before the festivities began, Taer had explained this strange isolation by the simple fact that the platforms represented domains, and the nobles on them were arranged by clan. And at the moment, Lord Allesandro Cassard is the only representative of both the family and the domain of Cassard.

Yep... Cassard is a rare, endangered species of the lord. No hand-feeding! Alex grinned grimly. At this rate, I hope we don't become extinct...

The other platforms were packed with nobles, except for one... There was a tall, lonely girl with short platinum hair and skin the color of bronze. Accompanying her were two enigmatic beasts in ceremonial robes. The two were far away, though, and Alex could not see all the details.

Waves of flashes and flying flags with house emblems constantly swept through the sea of people around them. The shouts of greeting from the crowd were a joyous roar in which no words were intelligible, Lord Cassard waving and smiling in response as the festive ceremonial events were well into their third hour and in full swing. They had already had time to take part in the laying of "wreaths of remembrance", which looked like throwing huge wreaths from the bridge into the water. The floral waterfall, illuminated by the setting sun, was mesmerizing in its beauty, but the sizzling heat spoiled the whole experience.

Then they piled onto the platforms and leisurely headed towards the complex where the rest of the official part... and the unofficial party was to take place. The air conditioning on the platforms was working, and Alex took a little breather. But the platforms were moving slowly - standing, smiling, and waving were tiring, and he also wanted to go to the bathroom. And while the other nobles could take turns resting on the small lower deck, hidden from the eyes of observers for Lord Cassard this option was out of the question.

To hell with these representative functions, this "Unification" celebration, and Anzati Ritero and Baron Kouifi and their idea of increased publicity as a means of winning a case in court

From the look in Taer's eyes, she had about the same opinion of what was going on.

It's idiotic, Alex continued to get angry. A celebration of some freak conquering everyone three thousand years ago. He gave them a lot of... brain fixes - they're still celebrating!

Almost without moving his lips, he asked aloud: "Taer, why is everyone so happy about the fact that they have been conquered by Emperor Tail?"

"He united the Sector, ending the feud between the kingdoms by making it one," she whispered back.

"What good was Fyron in this? An independent kingdom became a noble house within the Empire. What's to be happy about?"

"As part of the Empire, House Fyron increased its territory considerably and the nobility was protected by the Emperor from the arbitrary rule of kings and ruling lords," Taer was clearly quoting from some textbook.

That's even how - that is, the nobility en masse were happy to be conquered. That's nonsense! Although it may not be nonsense if they did not suffer property damage and the "oppressive top brass" were dealt with.

Judging by the speed, the rest of the journey will take about half an hour at the platform.

Yeah, another half an hour and we'll have to polite the "bride". What the hell is this: some want to kill him, some want to marry him and threaten to do so, some want to sue him, some want to rob a stunned man and then offer him friendship... well, and Baroness Rionale, who also wants something.

Alex sighed heavily and remembered his conversation with Countess Durlurl, who had informed him that he now definitely had a bride. And, as they say, nothing seemed to foretell trouble...
* * *
The awakening came much earlier than planned and not in the most pleasant way. An eerie rumbling and crackling sound broke into the bedroom, despite the light protective field that covered the windows. As Alex, mentally chastising himself for his excessive curiosity and reminding himself of the fate of one cat, approached the window, he was presented with a picturesque scene.

A silver flyer of an unfamiliar model was hovering beside a huge fallen tree that used to be part of the alley leading to the castle. Some men in white uniforms were standing beside the car, apparently inspecting it. The central part of the tree, which must have had three arms around it, was torn into splinters. The culprit of the collision, however, looked undamaged, as far as Alex could see.

"What's going on in there?" Alex got to the comm and summoned Taer.

While flying the new flyers at a low altitude, one of the pilots lost control. A three-hundred-year-old reswell was damaged. I don't think the tree can be repaired. The machine is intact," the specialist's voice was hoarse and tired.

Bloody flyers. Woke me up, you bastards! Alex just hated being woken up. Especially if he'd been awake for a long time. "Okay, I'll be right down," he added out loud and went to get dressed.

His head was pounding from lack of sleep, so Alex, munching on three capsules of Fenote, perked up, and went to see the hero pilots.

Shit! I wish they'd give me a scooter. Or is that instead of a morning jog for the tonus? He thought wearily outside the porch. The enormous size of the castle was beginning to get a little tense.

He was met by a perfect line of people standing at attention on the castle grounds. Four lads, one of whom stood out for his giant proportions, and a pretty girl, a little shorter than Taer and much frailer. As Alex approached, Taer, standing first in the line, shouted "'At attention!" which caused the rest of the brethren to turn their heads in sync, and mutter something like "Ready to serve Your Lordship!". Alex was surprised at the manner of the "salute" - two fingers to the temple instead of an open palm - but the "security specialist", meanwhile, marched to the "lord" and, stretching out in front of him, reported:

"My lord, the reinforcements for the inspection have been lined up!"

She seems to have misinterpreted my "I'll be down to see you," thinking I was going to give the troops an inspection, thought the "my lord," a little embarrassed by the reception. However, judging by her grey face and red eyes, Taer was now in a rare alternate state of mind, brought on by lack of sleep and nerves - so she could draw more original conclusions.

"At ease, guardsman! Let's look around while you're in line," Alex commanded, adding in a barely audible whisper. "By the way, how do I address you in public?"

"Out of the ranks one at a time!" Taer shouted and then answered in the same whisper. "Guardsman, Or "Sain lieutenant." Or Sword."

"Master Pilot of the Guards, Ittori Lieutenant Pakrat Mithut!" The blond-haired guy, a little shorter than Alex, with green eyes, who stood first, stepped forward.

"Master Pilot of the Guards, Ittori Lieutenant Rokot Vodin!" The co-pilot, a blond brown-haired man with fine features and the appearance of a poet, was even shorter than the first and somewhat more subtle in build than Alex had expected from a pilot. Although with these compensators, maybe they don't care about physical attributes at all, as long as they're able to react.

"Master Pilot of the Guards Ittori Cadet Ogerd Wispart!" If the first two pilots were about Alex's age or a little older, this one was at most twenty. Blond like the first pilot, he was short and gaunt but wiry as hell. He radiated activity and energy.

"Master Operator "Lance" Dudo Guwar!" a man of heroic proportions stepped forward. At first glance, he looked about thirty, and his physique and general appearance were worthy of an action movie hero. He remembered from Taer's lengthy explanations that the lances'' were some sort of hacker. Lance... weird, atypical guy. Alex imagined hackers in a very different way, and the "keyboard and mouse" fighters he'd met in person weren't usually known for the bulk of their muscles. And judging by the calluses on his knuckles, he didn't work out in the gym he mentally shrugged and turned his attention to the girl.

"Master operator of the field Rima Talariv!" A graceful girl with dark brown hair, a sensuous mouth, brown eyes accentuated by thick eyelashes of mind-blowing length, and charming dimples on her cheeks that appeared while smiling, like now for example. And judging by the way her tunic is tattered - with a great figure! Alex admired the 'master field operator' for a while, but unfortunately, the pause was dragging on, and to keep his attention from escalating beyond decorum, he took a couple of steps back and glanced around the entire formation.

Yep, just like an Olympic reserve! The snow-white uniform with a red floral pattern on the right side that covered part of the sleeve was remotely similar to that of the Russian Olympic team.

"At ease, eagles! What's wrong with the tree?"

"This is my fault, Your Lordship!" The energetic voice of Ittori Cadet Ogerd came out. "I had suggested an alley race to practice ultra-low altitude flying and to get to know the machines better. But, unfortunately, the inertia of the flier was unusually high, and I lost control in a turn," the pilot stopped and looked cheerfully at Alex, like oh, come on, it's nothing.

They're not afraid of the bosses, the bastards, they break three-hundred-year-old trees and don't give a damn! I wonder if they're all like that, or if Taer has recruited the craziest of them.

"All right," Alex sighed. "Keep practicing your ultra-low flying, but if you crack any more, I'll take it out of your pay. Dismissed!"

The troops hastily retreated out of sight of their superiors, the pilots ran to their machines, and the two master operators headed for the castle, followed by Taer...

"And you, Sain Lieutenant Diltar, I'm going to ask... to stay," Alex grinned. He waited until Taer came closer and asked with an air of concern in his voice:

"What, you haven't slept at all?"

"I slept!" the 'specialist' answered defiantly but, with a sigh, admitted it. "An hour and a half."

Alex took a jar of Fenote from his pocket and poured six capsules into the palm of his hand:

"Take it. You're scary to look at... Eyes like a mad herring."

"Would it help?" Taer hesitated. "My memory is fine."

Alex dropped the capsules onto her palm:

"Chew it! We still have the Unification party ahead."

She looked doubtfully at the blue pills in the palm of her hand and, with a sigh, sent them into her mouth.

After a few minutes, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze became more meaningful.

"There were no less adventurous ones out there, were there?" Alex nodded at the flyers that were bobbing wildly around the alleyways, picking up tattered leaves and small branches.

"The less adventurous don't go to the Stormtroopers," Taer shrugged. "And they don't teach the rest of them to fly low, and we all get screwed up," she nodded toward the fallen tree.

"Well, you know best. Have all the preparations for attending the celebrations been completed?"

"Yeah, we're all set. In the remaining four hours, we'll change the power units on the flyers, have breakfast, and then we can move out."
* * *
Baroness Rionale also joined us for breakfast. As usual, fresh, smiling, and charming. She complained that she couldn't decide on a dress for the ball, which would take place after the official events were over. She asked for help in this difficult matter, looking at Alex with a hint. He did not refuse, so he spent the remaining two hours before departure in a very entertaining way.

Yeah, it certainly wasn't going to happen without my help! He thought, slowly unbuttoning Kayrin's dress. With each clasp, the Baroness's perfect back exposed more and more, the clasps going almost to her... buttocks, causing his head to think, I wonder if she chose this style on purpose?

The help in choosing a dress looked like this: the Baroness would come out half undressed, and Alex would help her put the dress on, after which she would parade the new dress around the room, listening to the raptures. Afterward, with a charming smile, she suggested putting it off and trying something more original. Alex, of course, agreed with her, helped her undo the "most insidious" clasps, and - everything was repeated. Through this simple process, Kayrin managed to demonstrate all the advantages of her figure both visually and tactilely, making an indelible impression. Which, by all appearances, was what she was trying to achieve. But all pleasant things must come to an end, and with a cautious knock, Taer looked into the room:

"The flyers are ready. We need to leave in thirty minutes."

"Thank you, Taer, we'll be right down," the Baroness replied ahead of Alex.

After changing into the costume Barra and Taer had selected beforehand and tying a red neckerchief with the help of the "specialist", Alex went to the site, where three fliers were already waiting for them.

The vehicles were hurtling a few meters above the ground, trees, and houses flashing through the window. At first, Alex was sure they were going to crash into something - obstacles were flying dangerously close to the fliers - but the pilots seemed to know their job. At least they made it to the start of the festivities without incident.

They were met on the spot by a dozen anxious stewards who were in charge of manning the platforms. As Alex now realized, those guys in charge of his platform were freeloaders - the rest had several hundred nobles to pack with merit and titles, and in the case of Lord Cassard, the panic on their faces was unnecessary.

Although maybe they were afraid I wouldn't come and the platform would be left empty?

Baroness Rionale and the stewards went in search of her kin - they belonged to a different domain, so she had to travel on a different platform. Having already arranged to meet Kayrin at the ball, Alex realized he had made a mistake.

Where was your head - the contacts from the "well-wishers" will come to you at the ball too! How will you get rid of the Baroness?

Mentally berating himself for his excessive preoccupation with female charms, Alex, accompanied by Taer and the stewards, made his way to his platform.

They were already waiting there. A short, or rather petite, girl in her twenties, gray-eyed with a hint of green, her coal-black hair pulled up into a long ponytail with a gold fishtail. A dark blue dress with open shoulders and a skirt that flared downward, ending just below the knee. Her shoes, with their incredible heels, made her look a little taller, but she was still barely over Alex's shoulder. Behind her were two young men of the most determined appearance, dressed in dark scarlet, almost purple, uniforms with a high, standing collar. Their right shoulders were covered by black leather capes with a griffin pattern.

That was also the attire of the dandy who had flown in for the baroness from the Representation, so these two were the guards of the House of Fyron...

When she saw them approach, the girl smiled dazzlingly and went to meet them:

"Lord Cassard! You have no idea how glad I am to see you! I was afraid you weren't coming..." she paused, eyeing Alex curiously, seeing that he didn't recognize her, and glancing expressively at the "security specialist". "Don't be silent, Taer! Introduce me!"

"Daim Esta, Countess Durlurl Ergo Ca..." began Taer, but the Countess interrupted:

"Why all these titles," the Countess looked reproachfully at the "specialist" who froze like a rabbit in front of a boa constrictor. "We're having a friendly meeting," she smiled dazzlingly again and, with a wink, took Alex under her arm.

"By the way, Taer, my dear, I suppose you want to check out the platform before Lord Cassard climbs it? We're going to take a walk. You can trust me to guard his lordship..." Esta nearly sang the last words as she led "Lord Cassard" away.

"Of course, your ladyship," a pale Taer whispered.

"The view of the city from the cliff is spectacular, and I bet you've forgotten it, too. You'd be foolish not to take advantage of it," the Countess told Alex, a little taken aback by the display of power.

Weird - it looks like my brave guard is afraid of this brat!

Alex looked at the Countess in surprise - nothing was intimidating about her. A very pretty and graceful girl, beautiful, if you like inch-long girls. In the meantime, the Countess was chatting away:

"Actually, my name is Estal," she said with a smile. "But Estal Durlurl is kind of silly. Doesn't it? So I prefer to be called Esta - although it's simpler, it sounds nicer and cozier."

Alex remained silent, not knowing what to reply, but the Countess was not satisfied with that:

"Well, why don't you say something, Lord! Well, say a word to your old friend!"

"Were we friends?" Alex asked cautiously.

"And very close..." she murmured in his ear, her hot breath on the side of his neck.

Alex took a new look at the girl, falsely lingering his gaze on her distinctive roundness.

So, that was who Lord Cassard was spending his evenings with, and that she was very much... It was only strange that she had shown up so late. Or maybe it's some old relationship that's grown into a friendship? His thoughts were interrupted by a peal of laughter:

"Ay-yi-yi, your lordship," she wagged her finger at him playfully. "I know what you're thinking!"

"Lordship" wanted to make excuses, but decided it would look silly, so he preferred to change the subject:

"Why "your lordship" if we're old friends?"

"Indeed! To hell with these formalities between old friends! I'll just get rid of my dummies, and we'll talk like humans," she turned to the guardsmen, who had followed the Countess at all times:

"Leave us the orber and go and help Taer or something..."

"Yes, Your Ladyship!" With these words, one of the guardsmen removed something from his belt that Alex first mistook for a grenade and threw it in the direction of the Countess.

A small ball the size of an orange hovered at the top of the trajectory and began circling Alex and Countess Durlurl, humming softly. The guardsmen turned around in unison and walked quickly towards the platform.

He and the Countess, accompanied by the strange balloon, moved a hundred meters away from the platforms and stopped at a low stone railing.

There was a cliff beyond the railing - it looked like the 'gathering place' was set on top of a small mountain or a large hill. There was a city below, and the view was magnificent.

"Very pretty indeed," Alex appraised the view.

"I'm glad you liked it," the Countess smiled sweetly. "Alex... or should I say Alessie?"

"Alex is better."

"You know, I have amazing news for you!" She announced happily. "I found you a bride!"

"And who is that?" Alex asked cautiously.

"Valerie Bellar!" The Countess solemnly declared.

OK, I've heard that name before. What a terrific arrangement for political gain on the one hand and financial gain on the other... but where my interest lies are unclear.

"The Ruling Lady of House Bentar?" he cautiously clarified.

"Well, who else? She is! Clever, beautiful, and a very positive girl! We've already arranged everything - all the political niceties have been taken care of, just the formal details: publicity of your hopeless love affair, the engagement, and the wedding! So let me congratulate you in advance..."

Alex interrupted the rowdy countess - marriage was not part of his immediate plans:

"Don't you think, Esta, that's a bit too fast?"

"Why is it fast?" The countess was surprised. "You've forgotten all about it - we've been discussing the matter for over a hundred days, and we've finally come to an agreement with Bentar!"

"No, I mean the wedding. Isn't it a little early for me? And then - my reputation - what did Valerie think of that?" Alex went about his favorite business, one at which he was practically a pro - bullshitting.

"Why is it early? You're twenty-four, soon to be twenty-five - it's time to get married! And as for your reputation... well, that's ridiculous! Who hasn't made a mistake when they were young? That's what youth is all about. And, of course, Valerie, being a clever girl, understands that very well!"

It was worth admitting that Countess Durlurll dismissed the first batch of excuses with aristocratic carelessness.

"Honestly, Esta," Alex continued to fight back. "I don't see the point of marrying Valerie Bellar. I think it would only bring complications"

"Well, that's no way to treat your friends," the Countess pouted. "We've tried, we've made arrangements, we've found you a bride. And what a bride! A Ruling Lady! And you refuse!" She turned to Alex, gazing intently into his eyes. "Look, isn't it possible that the rumors of mild insanity are true? Who in their right mind would refuse such a bride?"

"Let's be serious - I see no reason to marry anyone. Especially Valerie Bellar."

"Ew, so boring!" She wrinkled her nose, and then her tone turned cold, and her gaze became prickly:

"Well, seriously so, Lord Cassard. You seem to have forgotten our deal - that's forgivable, but I'll remind you of the generalities," she poked a sharp fingernail into his chest. "You - marry Valerie Bellar. I'm keeping you out of trouble."

These must be the 'persuasive people who will persuade you until they persuade you' Taer was talking about, Alex knew he was being threatened, but he wasn't scared. He had doubts at all that Countess Durlurll was capable of frightening anyone.

"What kind of trouble are you protecting me from?" With the utmost courtesy in his voice, he asked.

"First, from yourself!" Esta smiled predatorily. "Secondly, from the wrath of the Ruling Lord..."

"And what kind of trouble could the wrath of the Ruling Lord and you cause me?" Alex asked innocently, slowly beginning to get annoyed.

From what he had read in Taer's notes, it was quite clear that the Ruling Lord had no direct influence over him at all. And if he did, he could appeal to the Emperor, who, for some reason, was not very fond of House Fyron's Ruling Lord.

"Don't try to make me angry!" hissed the Countess. "First of all, you will be in trouble for the fact that I know your TRUE nature..."

Alex's eyes widened involuntarily and an unpleasant chill ran down his spine: Does she really know who I am?

Daim Esta, pleased with the effect she had produced, continued:

"You must have forgotten it, but I know who you are. And I think you understand, Lord Cassard, that neither the Ruling Lord nor the House Intelligence would allow an Adept to appear in the Council of Privy," she smiled again. The smile, however, came out ominously. "And then, I can always take a hint about your nature of the Imperial Inquisition. Yes, you've successfully fooled them all these years, but mostly because you've never been tested hard enough. But if that's not enough either," she squinted her eyes angrily. "Believe me. I will devote all my intelligence resources to protecting House Fyron from you."

What is the adept? Or is that what they call transferees? The Countess was convinced that she knew some secret about him and that this secret was fraught with consequences, but Alex was certain that he was no "adept."

What if, adept, the gentlemen inquisitors take you by the gills and throw you on the bonfire? Or what do they have instead?

Looking at Alex, who was frantically trying to figure out exactly what exactly his terrible truth was, Daim Esta decided that the enemy was defeated and swapped the stick for the carrot:

"So let's not talk in threatening language," she took his hand, her voice warming. "I don't want the only line of psions in our House interrupted, but I can't have an Adept on the Privy Council, either. I had great respect for your father. He was a truly great man and did so much for the House. I wouldn't want his only son to die. So let's do as we agreed: you marry Valerie Bellar, and I cover your back. And believe me, in a situation like this, I'll be your most loyal and trustworthy friend."

The Countess looked intently into Alex's eyes and asked: "Are we agreed?"

Alex remained outwardly calm and even smiled, but inside, anger was already rising and boiling - he hated being pushed around and bossed around.

I've spent half my fucking life making sure no bitch decides anything for me! And now some little brat's gonna decide who I marry and who I don't!?

So at first, he was going to say something like, What do you think, Countess, what would happen to me if I just tripped and fell on you and carelessly broke your arm?

But fortunately, a timely wakened prudence reminded him that someone was already trying to kill him and there was no need to increase the number of people wishing him dead. He exhaled, gradually calming down: They won't marry me right now anyway, and then I'll see if I'm Adept or not, what that means for me, and how to deal with those who are displeased by that fact.

"It's a deal!" Alex replied as firmly as possible.

"That's great!" Daim Esta blossomed. "Then, after the formal part, we'll arrange a couple of recordings for the Holo-V. Well, you can dance together..."

"I can't dance."

"It's strange. You used to be so good at it. Well, then, just hold hands and sigh languidly," the Countess didn't seem at all embarrassed by the refusals. She took him by the elbow and led him toward the platforms:

"I don't understand your refusal at all, I swear to Ryan. With your abilities, you'd be, actually, the Ruling Lord of House Bentar. Wouldn't that be a splendid prospect?"

Truly splendid. For you. Not only do you get political dividends from House Bentar, but you also get rid of the "adept", whatever that means, by slipping him to others. With the prospect of that Adept running the place, you can easily control him by blackmailing him with the fact that you know who he really is. Win-win diplomacy - getting everything without giving anything away.

Approaching the platforms, Daim Esta deftly caught the balloon that was flying around them and must have turned it off because the metal orange stopped humming and flashing lights and went silent in her hands.

"Well, have a nice holiday Alex!" She practically jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't forget - I'll be expecting you after the formal part."

As Countess Durlurlle and the guardsmen who accompanied her departed, Alex climbed up onto the platform to Taer and, trying to look as natural as possible, inquired:

"What does Countess Durlurl do?"

"She is the Ergo-Captain of House Fyron's Intelligence," she replied with a shrug.

"Is the Ergo-Captain the highest rank?"

"Yes," Taer nodded.

"So Countess Durlurl is in charge of intelligence..." Alex bit his fingernail thoughtfully but remembered that he was a lord after all and could be seen. He hastily withdrew his hand:

"Yes, that's what I expected. Why are you afraid of her?" he asked Taer.

"I'm not..." she began but stopped and sighed heavily. "I don't know why," she seemed very uncomfortable with that fact. "She was my boss, and..."

Wow! So Taer is the Countess's man. Yes... I might be cut off by my security if I go against party policy.

"But isn't your boss different now?" Alex threw in a test bite.

"Yes, of course, Your Lordship, I am in your Arm, and technically we have almost equal status with the Countess, but... I don't know," the "security specialist" was clearly weary of this conversation and hurried to change the subject:

"What did she talk to you about?"

"She made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Alex replied with regret in his voice. "And let's not have any titles. I thought we had a deal, and there's no one around."

Meanwhile, the stewards once again ran up to them, asking if everything was all right, and warning them that the platforms would soon be heading out for the Memorial Wreath Laying.

Then there was a flower waterfall and scorching sun, and after that, it was off to the complex where the rest of the ceremonies were to take place. As Alex found out, they were not going anywhere but to the very real palace of Emperor Tail, built during his reign.

The huge dome of the palace and the giant wings were getting closer... The building was huge, but probably no bigger than his castle and - definitely lower.

Although maybe my castle is abnormally large?

The platforms slowed down and, after circling the vast square in front of the palace, came to a standstill at the front door.

Well, one last dose of formalities, then a chat with the bride, then with the "well-wishers", and then with Baroness Rionale. Yeah, I've got a busy schedule! Alex grinned grimly at his thoughts and stepped off the platform, taking the first step up the wide stairs leading to the palace.
* * *

RiP · Apr 8, 2023

Chapter 13

* * *
"...and concluding, I want to say that we will never forget the sacrifice of the people who died for the sake of unity, to bring us all life and prosperity. They paid for our happiness with their lives! Eternal memory to them!"

"Eternal memory!" the audience responded.

Alex was silent because he was absorbed in looking at his neighbor on the right. The neighbor was also silent, but judging by the expression on her face, there was a storm of emotions behind the silence... Negative emotions. Not towards Alex, but - in general - towards what was happening.

The noble crowd was surrounded by a flock of stewards as they disembarked from the platforms and entered the palace. They quickly sorted the arrivals into a column, the place in the column being, according to Taer, determined by the antiquity and nobility of the clan. Alex found himself in the front rows, which were not crowded at all. Lord Cassard with "Lieutenant Diltar," a lone girl, escorted by two beasts in the scarlet ceremonial cloaks of House Fyron, and a small group of men with azure ribbons over their shoulders who were careful to pretend not to notice Alex and the strange girl.

"The Pell clan of House Peltar," Taer commented in a barely audible whisper. "The oldest surviving clan in the Sector."

Oh, yes, I remember! House Fyron and his allies beat the Peltars, who had previously been 'sector watchers', and they've been mortally offended ever since - they weren't beaten by... by the rules! Alex mentally chuckled. He genuinely believed that the word 'rules' did not apply to wars. And the local aristocrats, who were passionately poisoning each other in political struggles, must understand that very well.

Meanwhile, the convoy moved on. At the head, to Alex's surprise, was the girl with the beasts, followed by the "group in the azure swimsuits," as Alex called them, and behind them were Lord Cassard and Taer. Behind them began the tight order of the less ancient and noble aristocracy. And so, in line, they went to lay wreaths of remembrance at the "Monument of the Fallen". There were no joyful crowds in the palace, but they were successfully replaced by journalists and reporters, who settled near the walls along the route of the column. The thought of being filmed by thousands of cameras and most likely many of them broadcasting live added to the unpleasant feeling of nervousness, and Alex mentally cursed those who had persuaded him to come here. He walked on full automatic, thinking only of how not to embarrass himself. Next to him, pale with excitement but with a completely impenetrable face, walked Taer, holding the wreath that was to be "laid".

Fortunately, it was a short walk, less than five minutes. After entering the strikingly large internal garden, the procession approached the monument in the center. A large and slightly battered metal plaque with a concise inscription reading To those fallen in action at Toliara.

A modest monument - with the giganto mania around here, you could count on something the size of the pyramid of Cheops. The giganto mania is understandable, given the crowd that has gathered, Alex thought as Taer ceremoniously handed the wreath to two guardsmen in the dark gold uniform of House Bentar.

After the laying of the wreaths, a series of speeches began. A representative from each house, and sometimes the ruling lord himself, came out and spoke briefly, for about ten minutes, about "no one is forgotten, and nothing is forgotten". There was little variety in the speeches. That would have been half the trouble. But, firstly, the speeches were heard standing up, and, secondly, the speeches lasted ten minutes, given that there were eight Great Houses. Almost an hour and a half of speeches. During that time one might have been completely dumbfounded, were it not for the fact that the neighbor on the right was the strange girl and her no less strange attendants.

The girl was standing about three meters away from Alex, and for the first time, he was able to see her up close. She was a particular character: She was tall, about six feet tall, broader in the shoulders than Alex, and muscular - a real "Grenadier woman". She was incredibly tanned, which made her stand out from the other aristocrats present - they had perfect white skin. Her dark bronze tan contrasted with her short, boyish platinum hair and gray eyes. Her outfit also stood out from the surrounding ladies - dark brown leather-look trousers tucked into high boots, a wide belt laden with two blasters, and a light-colored long-sleeved shirt. The collar was wide open, revealing a powerful chest on which rested a massive gold chain.

The image was completed by a two-finger-wide gray metal hoop, without any sign of adornment, that encircled the girl's head and two massive bracelets of the same gray metal. Her face, especially compared to the local ladies, did not look sophisticated - it was not beautiful, but rather pretty, and the contempt in her eyes was not nice.

The companions were also colorful. A very furry "something" as tall as Alex's chest, looking like a six-legged raccoon with a huge tail like a squirrel. And a chitin-covered monster displaying magnificent claws on all eight limbs. The limbs were disproportionately long and had lots of joints. The creature must have kept its arms and legs half-bent, which made it difficult to tell where anything was in this tangle. Eight eyes gleamed red at the back of the tangle. The creature was intelligent, as indicated by the handles of its phasers that protruded from beneath its ceremonial cloak.

The fluffy creature acted so naturally that Alex could not tell whether it was a representative of an intelligent race or a tame animal. The mysterious beast, as if sensing his gaze, turned its head and stared at Alex with its almost round brown eyes. It must have recognized nothing of interest and turned away, yawning widely, showing a long pink tongue and an enormous mouth full of tiny needle-like teeth in three rows. This was accompanied by incredibly mobile triangular ears, which swiveled to indicate the source of the sound.

Yeah, the girl obviously likes to go against public opinion, well, probably to draw attention to herself. Or maybe it's the ceremonial clothes and the no less ceremonial beasts she's entitled to as a noblewoman, Alex thought, and asked in a whisper, almost without moving his lips:

"Taer, who is that on our right? And why did she go first if the Pell family is the oldest?"

"Baroness Istar and her squires. The first to go was because if the nobility and antiquity are the same, the older one goes first."

Alex found the Pell family with his eyes - there were a few people 'over fifty' and looked at the girl again, Well, twenty-eight, maybe thirty-something at most.

He was about to ask how old she was, but it was the turn of the party's hosts, the House of Bentar, to speak. His potential "bride", Lady Valerie Bellar, stood on the podium of the monument. Green-eyed and golden-haired, wearing a lavish dress with cleavage and what appeared to be a corset. A tiara gleamed in her hair.

Well, just like a Barbie princess. However, it could have been much worse - an ugly old damsel, for example.

The Ruling Lady did not take too long, quickly saying all the necessary words for such an occasion. She ended her speech by reminding them that "we will not forget this fateful moment that determined the fate of the sector and those who gave their lives to win the battle of Toliara".

With her last words, the sky above the inner garden began to darken rapidly. Soon the sparse stars appeared and grew brighter, the yellow ball of the sun flashed to the left, and the black disk of the night side of some planet came into view. Just above Alex's head a spindle-shaped spaceship floated by, followed by another and another. Above the garden, two star fleets were approaching, preparing for battle.

Yes, the special effects are top-notch, Alex thought admiringly as he watched the battle unfold.

It was unclear who was for whom - almost all the emblems on the ships were different - there was simply no uniform insignia. So Alex mentally named the fleets - Left and Right. The Right hovered near the planet while the Left was rapidly approaching it, firing some sort of minutiae - fighters, it must be. A few minutes later, the battle was brewing. A swarm of Left fighters, backed by smaller ships, struck a wide arc into the flank of the Right fleet while the heavy ships, moving in a straight line, aimed for the center of the enemy formation. After that, Alex stopped understanding what was going on and who was who. And began to simply admire the action, mesmerized by the beauty of the battle. Bright beams sliced through space, clots of shots smashed into the mirrored haze of shields, and missiles exploded in dazzling flashes, blasting fighters and smaller ships to shreds. The fleets fought with no clear advantage, no large ships were destroyed, and the losses of the smaller ones were roughly equal...

As a dozen medium-sized ships appeared out of nowhere behind the Right-wing fleet, the hulls flashed with blue light, and the fleet sped towards the Right-wing fleet. Alex thought it was the Right's reinforcements arriving, but he was wrong. The ships that emerged in a single group attacked the Right's heavy ships one by one, attacking from behind. In a matter of minutes, there was a decent-sized gap in the Right's formation, and two of their ships were slowly falling apart, illuminated by the flashes of explosions.

But then, for some reason, the largest ship of the Left exploded must have been the flagship, followed by another heavy ship and another. No longer bound to fight with equal opponents, the battleships of the Right slowly turned around and engaged the ships that had attacked them from behind. After a few more minutes it was all over - the 'Right' had won. The sky took on its natural color, the ships became translucent and froze in place, and the audience present erupted in thunderous applause. Alex joined in - it really was an amazing sight.

"Well, that's the end of the official part. We can go to the rest area of House Fyron and tidy ourselves up," Taer sighed with relief.

The noble crowd was in motion: some reached the garden exits, and small groups were forming - people were greeting their acquaintances and chatting animatedly. The journalists huddled along the walls and went out into the street.

One journalistic "squad" was moving purposefully towards Lord Cassard. He had no desire to be interviewed, so when it became clear that they were not aiming at him but at Baroness Istar and her menagerie, Alex was relieved.

"Lady Faith! Lady Faith! The audience wants to know what you think of the Unification Festival and the simulation just shown." The red-haired journalist swooped down on the baroness with questions and seeing that she seemed in no hurry to resist the 'fifth estate' she introduced herself. "Azuri Terbala. Free Worlds News."

The Baroness smiled sweetly at the journalist. And suddenly, without a swing, but clearly hard, she hit her in the face! The girl was just beginning to fall, and the Baroness's right hand hit the cameraman's solar plexus. He dropped the camera from his hands and bent down, gulping for air, at which point Lady Faith grabbed him by the hair and hit him in the face with her knee. The operator collapsed to the floor and was immediately kicked in the groin. It all happened in literally a second - here was Lady Faith listening to the question with a sweet smile, and now an enraged Baroness Istar was kicking the defeated journalists with hatred.

The men in black uniforms appeared from out of nowhere and surrounded the battlefield, shielding the scene from prying eyes. They began to exhort Lady Faith to stop. But no attempt was made to stop the beating by force. The Baroness's "squires" did not intervene either. At last, the Baroness yielded to their entreaties and left, surrounded by men in black, while the journalists were picked up by the guards of the House of Bentar.

There was an unnatural silence in the hall, which, after Lady Faith had left the garden, was replaced by the usual hubbub of the nobility discussing what was going on without looking at the victims. Azuri Terbal's face was splotched with blood, her nose smashed by a blow, and she was sobbing and moaning muffled. The cameraman, by the look of him, was more badly hurt. The blow of the knee shattered his lips, and the massive opaque glasses that covered his eyes cracked open, exposing the electronic stuffing. They left the garden, supported by the Bentar Guards. In a minute, nothing reminded them of the incident - the stewards had wiped off the blood, and several men in black uniforms were talking demandingly to the journalists.

"Is beating up reporters who ask inconvenient questions a regular thing?" Alex asked Taer, shocked by what he saw.

"Of course not, Lord Cassard! Such behavior is unacceptable, unworthy, and unacceptable to any civilized man, much less a nobleman!" A low male voice, coming from somewhere behind him, preceded Taer.

The "specialist" who was standing sideways and so could see the speaker froze and made a statue of herself. It must have been the big bosses who spoke, concluded Alex, who had already studied the Guardsman's habits.

He turned around and looked carefully at the speaker: a short, trim man in his sixties with a slightly distracted face, which was adorned by a small neat beard, graying with gray. His brown eyes were slightly squinted, and his short-cropped hair was completely white.

"How will she pay for it?" Lord Cassard asked, nodding in the direction Lady Faith had gone.

"Absolutely nothing, most likely," his companion shrugged. "She could have shot that poor woman on the spot, and even then the case would probably not have gone to trial."

"Is that in the order of things too?" Alex asked. "And, you know, unfortunately, I've completely forgotten your name..."

"No, it isn't," the stranger smiled. "But this is a unique case. Lord Sargo Athand, at your service!" He introduced himself with a barely perceptible bow.

"Nice to meet you," Alex replied with a bow of his head. "What makes this case unique?"

"By the magnitude of the participant's personality, Lord Cassard, by the magnitude! The Baroness Istar is legendary in every sense of the word! And renowned for her badass temper. So this journalist should have thought before asking provocative questions. Anyway, she got the story anyway," Lord Athand added with a smile.

"What was the provocation?" asked Alex, to whom the question seemed quite innocent.

Lord Sargo Athand glanced at Alex in surprise, then, as if remembering something, gave him a smile:

"Your partial amnesia has completely slipped my mind. Look," he held up his hand and pointed to one of the surviving ships that had so successfully attacked the Right wing fleet from behind. "This is the Cusaka, Baroness Istar's attack frigate, and this," the lord's hand pointed to the mangled hull of the Left's flagship. "The heavy cruiser Black Spear, flagship of the Outcasts, Baron Lormir Cassard's ship. They say he was her lover. Your distant ancestor, by the way. According to the official version, the Black Spear was destroyed due to a cascading overload of the shield modulators caused by a lucky hit. As demonstrated to us in today's simulation of that battle."

"And in reality?"

"In reality," Lord Athand grinned. "The Black Spear was shot almost point-blank from the direction where the shields were nullified by its allies, who had decided that being a Great House within the Tail Empire was far more interesting than being barons in the Kingdom of Fyron. This treachery brought victory to the Imperial forces. Everyone knows this, but it is not customary to talk about it. Now, do you understand the Baroness' reaction?"

Alex shrugged in response:

"In my opinion, she overreacted emotionally when asked about events that happened three thousand years ago to her distant ancestors. Even if we were shown an incorrect version of what happened today. It is not the journalist's fault."

"You misunderstand me, Lord Cassard," Sargo smiled softly. "This is the Baroness Istar. It was she who commanded the frigate raid. It was her lover who died on the ship, shot by traitors. However, even if he wasn't her lover, still Baroness Istar was one of Emperor Tail's fiercest opponents... and we are celebrating his victory."

"So she's, what, three thousand years old?" Alex wondered.

"Yes, a historical oddity," Lord Athand said with a wave of his hands. "Or rather, an embarrassment. Just after the collapse of the Tail Empire and about six hundred years ago, when the idea of secession from the Federation was being actively discussed, it became very fashionable to remember the heroes who fought for independence. And then there was such a symbol - the warrior maiden. There are still monuments to her on Fyron and the Kilretzes and two awards for bravery named after her. The Church of United Flame even wanted to canonize her as another incarnation of Ir'Ryane, but fortunately, they didn't get around to it. The historians have had their doubts as to whether she fought in person or was the mastermind," he gestured indefinitely. "However, men of science rarely have the same opinion. Six years ago, during an excavation on Istar, a stasis pod containing the Baroness and her squire was discovered. After talking to the real Baroness, doubts that she personally led the boarding parties and commanded the fleet fell away."

"Is that why her actions are met with such piety? Because she's a living relic of the past?" Alex asked, eyeing with interest the Cusaka, which happened to be commanded by Lady Faith.

"Well, that's why, too," Lord Athand nodded. "Mores were more direct then, and the baron in his land could execute and pardon without restraint."

"It must be hard for her here after all these years. And her enemies' victory day is still being celebrated."

She's practically transported to another world, you might say, a fellow sufferer! Alex sympathized.

"You don't say, Lord Cassard, it's very hard!" Sargo agreed. "That's why she's rarely in the Sector. She gets bored with us," he lowered his voice and, with a sly smile, asked. "Would you like gossip?" He waited for a nod and then continued. "They say that out of boredom, she's formed a pirate fleet, sacking ships near the Free Economic Zone. Collaborated with the Gnarm cartels - must have been selling what they seized - and then some sort of conflict ensued. That's why she wanted in the Gnarm space for the murder of the head of the Shiisrodak clan - Ropata the Wise - and his two sons. All in all, a personality of staggering proportions."

"And she gets away with it, too," Alex nodded understandingly. "As a historical figure."

Lord Athand smiled ironically: "Well, it doesn't matter what some gnarmes who aren't even part of the Empire say! And about the pirate fleet," he said with a wave of his hands. "You'd have to prove that. Whoever looks like that on the record is no cause for concern to their Ladyship, Lady Fayth, a person in the Emperor's good graces."

"The Emperor's good graces? Does the Emperor like historical curiosities?"

"Well, it's not about curiosities," sighed the interlocutor. "Because of her antiquity and nobility, as well as several legal and genealogical reasons, the Baroness is entitled to claim the position of Ruling Lady in two houses at once, Fyron and Kilret. The Emperor is therefore very fond of displaying the Baroness to the Ruling Lords when they get too carried away. A very graceful way of intervening in a situation on occasion. That's why she's so carefully guarded by the Security Service."

The men in black uniforms must be the Security Service, Alex decided, and he was about to question Lord Athand, who turned out to be very well informed, but his plans were not going to happen.

"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but I wanted to remind my husband of a promise he made..." A beautiful tall woman in her thirties came up behind Lord Athand, placing her hand on his shoulder. A tiara glittered in her dark hair with massive stones, and her black dress was adorned with a train so long that it lay another two meters behind its mistress.

"Of course, darling, I'm on my way. I was just explaining to Lord Cassard the reason for Baroness Istar's anger." Sargo replied with warmth in his voice as he stroked her arm.

Hearing Lady Faith's name, Lord Athand's wife pressed her lips together squeamishly:

"Disgusting scene! Poor Lakita, she'd worked so hard to make everything perfect, but this stunt had ruined everything hopelessly. And Baroness Istar herself - everyone has already resigned themselves to her behaving like a commoner and to these characters - her squires... After all, it's her own business! But some actions cast a shadow over the whole House! It's a pity, but some nobles (an eloquent glance in Alex's direction) don't understand that! And what's sad is that they represent the oldest families of our House, our honor and pride..."

"Unfortunately, I must take my leave, Lord Cassard," Sargo interrupted his wife with a strained smile. "I think I'll be seeing you again today."

After saying goodbye to Lord Athand and his wife, Alex turned to Taer:

"So, who was it? Was it someone in positions of power too?"

"Lord Athand has been head of our House Privy Council for eight years now," Taer replied.

"What an interesting man," he said, but his wife is a pompous, enthusiastic fool. "Well, let's just hope I don't give the impression of a nutcase," Alex grinned. "It'll be the Privy Council that makes the final decision about my eligibility, won't it?"

The "security specialist" nodded silently, confirming his hunch, and pointed to the exit from the garden with her eyes:

"Your Lordship, shall we go to House Fyron's recreation area?"

"Yes, let's go," agreed Alex, who had been exhausted by four hours of official business and, more importantly, was more and more drawn to the "room of reflection".

When they reached the recreation area, with the help of the stewards, they found the rooms allocated to Lord Cassard, two huge rooms with a private bathroom. Where they finally managed to catch their breath and tidy up.

The sheer size of the local palaces and castles is becoming more and more understandable. If every lord had a room or two, and they gathered in such crowds, you'd have to build something a couple of kilometers across!

Alex sat half in a luxurious armchair and looked around the room - it was no less luxurious than the one in the castle.

He put his hand to the embroidery that covered the silk-covered walls - the tiny golden flowers were as lifelike.

The other rooms are probably just as well decorated. Plus the servants - there must be at least a couple of thousand people for such a big place, and probably more. Someone has to pay for all this and in such quantities. Or all noblemen - owners of factories, newspapers, steamships.

The latter was very unlikely - he had interacted a little with the local aristocracy, but they did not resemble hardened businessmen. More like politicians, yes. There was no talk of business or money, but there was politics all the time.

So, the oppressive top brass is directly eating up taxes, and judging by what we have seen they are doing it in a big way...

Alex's thoughts on the fate of the underclass were interrupted by the arrival of Taer:

"My lord, there is a guardsman to see you with a message from Countess Durlurl. Her ladyship asked me to remind you that you had promised to see her."

"Well, let's go!" He sighed heavily.

They had long since fixed themselves up, and Alex saw no point in excusing himself as "needing to rest". So after leaving the resting rooms and passing the guardsmen who guarded their rest, they followed a serious young man in the black and red uniform of the House Fyron Guards.

Lord Cassard glanced absently around the palace, mentally preparing himself for the conversation with the 'bride' and her entourage.

His entourage and his 'bride' were waiting for him in the spacious hall, richly decorated with gold moldings and ornaments, the upholstery of the furniture also gold with fine embroidery. A small group of House Fyron was present, and familiar faces stood out, including Countess Durlurl, chatting sweetly with his potential bride, and Lord Athand, chatting with a stout older man. In all, the hall glowed with gold and the plastic smiles with which those assembled greeted one another.

"Alex!" The Countess exclaimed when she saw them enter, and, taking Valerie Bellar under her arm, she headed towards them. "At last, you've come. We've been waiting for you!"

Approaching Alex and Taer, Daim Esta lit up with a smile: "Well, there's no need to introduce anyone here. We've all known each other for a long time, haven't we?" she asked.

"Yes, we have known Lord Cassard for a very long time, and I met Mistress Diltar during the last golden season," Valerie said quietly, with a slight smile.

Alex, who was looking at his "bride", preferred to remain silent. He simply did not know who knew where, when, and with whom.

It could have been so much worse... once more his mind raced. Lady Valerie Bellar was pretty - huge green eyes, a doll face, and slightly full lips. And perhaps even pretty - a little shorter than Alex and with a good figure, though it was hard to tell if it was a credit to nature and a credit to the corset. Probably not stupid either, though the doll princess image obviously doesn't emphasize intelligence... Ergo, not stupid at all.

"Then I shall hand you over to the cameramen!" With these words, Countess Durlurl called for a group of people who stood modestly in the far corner.

Alex spent the next fifteen minutes with the idiotic smile of a teenager in love on his lips, holding hands with Valerie Bellar. The cameramen circled, filming them from different angles. "Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar holding hands." "Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar standing by the window looking out into the distance", "Lady Bellar looking at Lord Cassard" and similar idiocy. Fortunately, the photo session was over relatively quickly - the plan was to have a "demonstration for the public" next. Having listened to the parting instructions and continuing to smile non-stop, the "hopelessly in love" set off for a romantic stroll around the garden. The plan was to film some footage with a "hidden camera" to make it more realistic.

From what he had already seen, the various gardens in the palace were innumerable. Emperor Tail must have loved fresh flowers. The particular garden chosen for the lovers' stroll was on an open balcony about the size of a football field. It overlooked the sea, or some large lake, the water surface of which was now playing with the scarlet glow of the setting sun. A perfect scene for a walk of lovers, Lord and Lady!

The "lovers" were strolling along the narrow sandy paths that covered the garden, followed at a respectful distance by the guardsmen from the ruling lady's guards, accompanied by Taer. The garden was rather deserted, and in addition to the lovers and their guards, there were several other couples and just single members of the aristocracy strolling through the garden. When Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar saw the "lovers", they cast meaningful glances at them and hurried out.

Either out of politeness or a desire to share the news sooner, Alex decided, glancing after the other dignified bystander as he fled. Rumors of negotiations have probably been circulating for some time, and since we're walking together here, it means the high parties have reached an agreement. The demonstration for the public has clearly succeeded.

He was distracted by the quiet melodious voice of the Ruling Lady:

"It's a lovely garden, one of my favorites in the palace," Valerie commented as if casually running her hand over the soft and dense moss that carpeted the balcony railings.

Alex, thinking to himself, I wonder if I act like an idiot now and crash the wedding, will they kill me right away or not? absently glanced around the garden.

A few small trees with lush crowns were growing in the middle of small islands of greenery separated by narrow sandy paths. The islets themselves were formed by a strange, waist-high, green moss-like plant that had been clipped in the shape of sea waves crashing onto the shore. The waves were great - swirling and white lumps of foam made of some small flowers.

"It's beautiful. And the view of the sea is excellent," he nodded toward the blazing sunset.

Lady Valerie stopped at the railing and, leaning against it, looked up at Alex as if she was thinking about something:

"Tell me, Lord Cassard, why do you want to get married? You haven't been interested in politics before."

"Let's just say it was an offer I couldn't refuse," Alex replied with a frown.

"Are you so enthralled by the title of Lord Consort? I thought you satisfied your vanity in other ways..."

No, I just don't know how I can get away with it, he thought angrily, and said:

"No, frankly, I am not enthused by the idea, but I was persuaded by very persuasive people until I was persuaded that it would be better for everyone."

"What a coincidence, I was both convinced and persuaded too," Valerie's voice sounded a little sad.

"So you're not in favor of this marriage?" Alex asked cautiously.

If the Bentarians refuse the marriage, I have no problem with it. I just need to gently persuade them to refuse

"Frankly, I don't like the idea." sighed the Ruling Lady, absently stroking the moss-covered railing. "But the Privy Council is right. Our House needs an alliance with either Melato or Fyron to develop. And having considered House Fyron's offer, I was forced to agree. After all, the welfare of the House was far more important than my personal worries."

"Since when is marriage a prerequisite for a union?" Alex hinted as if casually. "If the agreement between the Houses has been reached. Marriage is nothing more than a formality to seal these agreements. Above all, marriage is no guarantee of the union's longevity: the political situation can change, and our houses can turn from allies to rivals. Why do something that could cause problems in the future?" he looked at Valérie expectantly, is it working or not?

"You're right about something, Lord Cassard," the ruling lady looked slightly surprised, /oh, so it also talks! "Marriage is not a prerequisite for the union. But how will my House gain access to the resources of the Cassard domain and, more importantly, to the shipyards owned by the Cassard family if I am not part of your family?"

"I see no reason why you wouldn't have access to these Shipyards even without the marriage if our Houses have already agreed on everything."

Valerie, said nothing in reply, only looking at Alex with a certain amount of scepticism.

They are probably afraid that without a defect they may be scammed.

"There are always options. For example, you could propose a direct contract with the Shipyards owned by my family for the services you are interested in. Perhaps such a contract would be an even better guarantee than marriage since it could be enforced in an Imperial Court."

"I'm afraid the agreement isn't quite what we need," Valerie sighed, and she stepped away from the railing and walked leisurely through the garden again. "But I'll think about what you said."

After taking a couple more laps around the park and chatting about the weather with sweet smiles, the "couple in love" returned to the same golden hall where representatives of the two Houses were waiting for them.

"The two of you look so lovely together," Countess Durlurl chirped happily. "It's especially good with the garden. I bet it'll be all over the channels for the rest of the season." Daim Esta showed her a clipboard on which Lady Bellar and Lord Cassard were standing near the railing of the balcony, smiling sweetly at each other in the setting sun, talking. The picture was filmed from a distance, and the details were poorly visible, as it was shot through the foliage, which must have been some kind of hidden camera.

Idiot! Pray, they don't record the sound! mentally scolded Alex, who had forgotten that they might be being filmed. If Countess Durlurl heard our conversation, it could create more problems. On the other hand, what will she do to me while they want to marry me? Alex mentally smirked - he didn't want to get married, but while he was "getting married", not only could Countess Durlurl not do anything to him, but on the contrary, she was interested in making sure nothing happened to him. And, therefore, is an ally against the unknown assholes trying to kill him. But as soon as he upsets the marriage, she becomes a person of interest in eliminating him because of his "adept" nature.

Yeah, it's a stupid situation.

After supporting everyone's opinion that the recording was very successful, Alex politely excused himself from the audience and hurried out of the room. He wanted to talk to Lord Athand, expecting that the head of the Privy Council would know what the Bentars wanted since they had to marry off their Ruling Lady, and he might have some idea of who wanted to kill him. And talking about Lady Faith was probably no coincidence, which means Sargo Athand wants something from him. He didn't just walk up to him, did he? But unfortunately, Lord Athand was no longer in the hall, so Alex decided to find him later, at the ball.

"Look, how is it that Countess Durlurl became Head of Intelligence at that age? Wasn't there anyone more experienced?" Alex asked the question that had long plagued him as he and Taer walked back to the restrooms. He suspected either patronage from a lover somewhere very high up in the echelons of power was involved or some kind of kinship there as well.

"Last year, Daim Esta was given a procedure of destructive rejuvenation. And the operation was very successful. And so... she's over fifty years old and has been in the Intelligence Service for a long time. And she's not a noblewoman - they try to appoint people to this position who are not connected to the Main Families."

Alex froze as if frozen: No way! Valerie and the Countess looked the same age, but Taer looked noticeably older - about twenty-five. How old are they?

"And how old is Valerie Bellar then? And you?" he asked cautiously as he continued to move.

"Lady Bellar is twenty-two, and I'm twenty-four," Taer replied with an ironic smile. "You think you've been slipped some old ladies?"

"What was I supposed to think?" Alex objected. "You look older than Countess Durlurl, and if she's over fifty, how old are you?"

"Come on, I don't look that much older," she shrugged.

Upon reaching the rooms reserved for Lord Cassard's rest, Alex and Taer were stunned by a statement from the Bentar guardsmen standing at the entrance:

"You have a visitor, Lord Cassard!"

When the intrigued Lord Cassard entered the room, he saw Baroness Rionale sitting in an armchair, staring thoughtfully into the infoblock. From the way her eyes moved, she was reading something:

"I didn't expect to wait for you!" She broke away from her reading and raised her head, the sunset's rays touching her face in a shower of golden glare. Kayrin set the infoblock aside and walked over to Alex:

"You look serious and tired. Is the holiday wearing you out, or is something wrong?" She asked, putting her hands on his shoulders. Now that she was very close to him, her face was covered in a network of fine gold threads interwoven in intricate patterns.

"Just some unexpected business," Alex brushed it off

So, it looks like the conversation with Lord Athand and the "well-wishers" has been ruined. How can I get away with it?

"What about your face?" he asked.

"What is it off?" She touched the netting with a slight fright, ran her finger over a few strands, and sighed in relief. "Phew, it's okay!"

Baroness Rionale looked reproachfully at Alex.

"You scared me! I had already decided that I would have to put it on again. It would have been a nightmare!"

"No, everything's fine as far as I see!" he assured her. "Just curious. I haven't seen that on you before."

"Well, you know," Kayrin explained. "My parents and the rest of my immediate family are really nerdy when it comes to ceremonies. And I find the baronial crown tasteless. And you can't get a proper haircut! But listen to them - come naked, but with a crown and all the regalia. So, as a compromise with my relatives, I wore a sevaril instead of a crown."

"It suits you very well," Alex admired sincerely.

The gold sheen of the threads was accentuated by the waterfall of dark hair and set off by the dark purple open-shouldered dress Kayrin was wearing. And the long, elbow-high gloves to match the dress added to the glamour.

"Thank you, all thanks to your help in choosing," was the flirtatious reply.

Alex honestly didn't remember such a dress, much less a net on the face, but made the right decision to remain silent.

"Shall we go to the ball?" Kayrin asked enthusiastically. "It's already in full swing, and then the unofficial party starts!"

"Let's go!" Alex tried to show enthusiasm, mentally resigning himself to the fact that he could not seem to get away from the Baroness.

Accompanied by Taer, who had not uttered a word since Kayrin had appeared, they reached the hall where the ball was being held.

The bright walls, made of pink marble, were decorated with bronze wrought iron, stylized as the shoots of some plant, these metal stems stretching upwards to the domed ceiling, decorated with murals, where they blossom into small graceful flowers. However, given the gigantic height of the ceiling, the flowers must have been enormous. The floor, of some light grey stone with bluish streaks, was decorated with a pattern in the same plant motif. Light green lines lined with crystals as wide as a palm glowed softly green and intertwined with each other in concentric circles on the floor.

The high domed ceiling was supported by numerous columns, their slender rows forming the elongated oval of the main hall. The columns made as if of amber, glowed softly, radiating warmth from within, and were braided by a dense network of bronze stems. The painting on the ceiling depicted a very beautiful dark red-haired girl in a long loose green dress surrounded by intricate floral ornamentation. The girl's green eyes shone visibly.

Yes... It seems that three thousand years ago, they were crazy about art nouveau and lively greenery here, thought Alex, admiringly looking at the hall. The gigantic room was filled with light and music, long tables with snacks stood along the walls, and around them, there were groups of people discussing something and just onlookers. Couples were dancing in the center of the room and, to Alex's surprise, above his head too - in the air, surrounded by what looked like giant soap bubbles, already dancing in three dimensions. The bubbles surrounding the flying couples were distorting slightly at the base, filling with shivering mirrored haze, probably to prevent peeking under the dancing ladies' skirts.

Degrade not only elegantly but with gusto! Alex thought admiringly.

The Baroness, seeing with what interest he was looking at the couples dancing in the air, immediately offered to dance. Alex began to talk about how he couldn't dance, and in general... But Kaнrin didn't listen to his objections and dragged him somewhere in the corner of the hall.

"Alex!" he was called out loudly from the side by a woman.

When he turned around, he saw two girls about twenty meters away - a short-cut blonde with wavy hair and a brown-haired girl with a high, complicated hairdo.

"And I couldn't find you!" The blonde informed him, not the least bit embarrassed by the fact that she had almost shouted.

"Who's that?" Alex hissed, looking at Taer.

He had grown weary of the sudden appearances of "old acquaintances" who usually brought nothing but trouble. And now, at the very least, he wanted to know in advance who had decided to make him happy this time.

"Lady Isalaya Marquess of Turang," Taer replied and, with a slight gloating glance at Kayrin, added. "Your mistress."

The day had been so exhausting and hard that Alex showed far less emotion than Kayrin had hoped for. For that, he could even make a joke:

"Oooh, I happen to have excellent taste!"

Lady Isalaya, meanwhile, was quickly shortening the distance with swift gliding steps. A tall girl of about twenty-five with a hawkish nose and bright blue eyes, her wavy blonde hair was cut short. As she moved, crimson waves rolled across her tight, long dress of deep pink. There was a kind of predatory beauty and impetuosity about her.

"Did you miss me?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving Alex an embarrassed kiss.

"It's good to see you, Isalaya, but we were in a hurry," Baroness Rionale stepped forward and smiled predatorily, her gaze very eloquent and not boding well.

Isalaya, with an "oops, who's there?" expression, broke away from Alex and turned to the irritant. The two members of the feline family disagreed over a cat (or mouse?) and stood - eye to eye - against each other, tails slapping violently at their sides.

Damn! Looks like there's going to be an ugly scene here with two angry women fighting, Alex thought feverishly about what to say to quell the conflict, but his newfound mistress beat him to it:

"Oh, Kayrin!" She shrieked in delight and immediately wrapped her arms around the girl, giving her an equally luscious kiss. "I didn't know you were here! Well? How was the Capital?"

Baroness Rionale had not expected such a maneuver, was stunned into silence for a few seconds, and had just started to say something when Isalaya beat her to it again:

"By the way, this is Liora," she gestured casually toward the brown-haired girl. "Countess Wistrile," the Marquise looked up at Alex and added playfully. "By the way, Alex, she's been dying to meet you."

"Your neckerchief is lovely, Lord Cassard, especially the color. Red is my favorite," the brown-haired girl finally spoke up. "Shall we dance?" She put her hand on his arm and then added, in a low voice. "And talk."

Baroness Rionale was clearly about to object, but Isalaya was hanging on to her, chirping excitedly, and there was no way of influencing the course of events.

The brown-haired woman raised her hand, revealing a massive bracelet, and snapped her fingers in some intricate way. A transparent bubble immediately coiled around her and Alex, lifting them smoothly into the air.

The sphere rose ten meters and began to move in a spiral amongst similar spheres.

"Now we can talk," the brown-haired woman said in a serious voice. "I'm Liora Wistral, Representative of the Anti-Imperialist Alliance for the Tail Sector. You were rescued by my men on the south quay."

"Very nice of them," Alex grinned. "Tell them I said thank you."

"We'd better pretend we're dancing," with these words, she took his hands and 'led' him.

Alex honestly tried not to step on her toes. Along the way, it became clear that the sphere moves where you go. How it controlled in height, he never understood. Pretending to be busy dancing, he stared furtively at his dancing partner and authorized Representative of the Anti-Imperial Alliance, Countess Liora Wistrile.

She was of medium height, about half a head shorter than Alex, or maybe even shorter, given the impressive heeled shoes and the high haircut, thin, if not subdued. She, unlike Baroness Rionale and her newfound mistress, could not boast an athletic figure and bulges in all the right places. Quite average, what they called 'no highlight'. Her face was unfortunate with make-up - bright blue eye shadow and orange lipstick. Not the best combination.

Although who knows, maybe it's the newest local fashion.

There was nothing remarkable about her brown eyes either, and he didn't want to drown in them, like Kayrin's eyes. An ordinary girl, not ugly by any means. But compared to the stunning beauty of the local high society women, she was inconspicuous.

So, all in all, a gray mouse with a 'but I'm smart' look, Alex decided as he examined the girl. But after all, you're not going to make love to her. You're going to do business with her..."

Countess Wistrile (or not the Countess, who knows) seemed determined to take the bull by the horns and got straight to the point:

"You are wearing the red scarf, as we asked, so you are interested in working with us?"

"Perhaps," Alex said evasively. "First, I would like to know what you can offer me and what you want from me?"

Liora seemed to be waiting for this question, a strange gleam appeared in her eyes, and her face took on a kind of lofty-inspired expression:

"We invite you to join the Anti-Imperial Alliance! You personally and your entire domain! In return, we shall use all our strength to support your fight against the usurper..." she spoke ardently, urging Lord Cassard that delay was not an option and that he, as a nobleman, should understand that the Emperor would not stop at the Houses of the Central Sectors - sooner or later he would no longer need the support of the Tail Sector, and then...

As the "authorized representative's" fervent speech was delivered, Alex's face began to look more and more like that of a man who had eaten a lemon but was forced to keep smiling. He was counting on some local mobsters, or at worst, local nobles interested in changing the current policies of the Great Houses. But he got some anti-imperialists! And judging by the gleam in their eyes, they were fanatics who had lost their minds!

Some kind of Boy Scouts... Alex thought disappointedly as he listened to the "representative" speech.

Being a cynical man, he did not genuinely believe in democracy, considering any power to be an elaborate form of business, and treated any suggestion of "getting off the ground and doing heroic deeds in the name of..." as a clumsy attempt to use him.

Well, or it's an inept provocation. If they fail to kill him, he will be imprisoned as a malignant conspirator against the Emperor.

The Countess Wistrile had just gone on to say that Lord Cassard would certainly have no trouble raising an anti-Imperial rebellion in his domain, which would, of course, be immediately supported by all available forces of the 'anti-Imperial alliance'. Even for Alex, who didn't understand a damn thing about local politics, it sounded like complete nonsense. He wasn't about to become a patriot whose blood would be poured on the next "tree of liberty".

"...and then all the progressive forces of all the races, seeing your example, will unite in a single wave of people's anger that will sweep away the usurper!" "Representative" Liora Wistrile seemed to have learned this speech by heart and was now sputtering along like a scribble, not noticing Lord Cassard's sour expression.

"Lady Liora," Alex interrupted her. "You know, I've been preoccupied with the attempts on my life. I thought you might have some information about it and might be able to help me."

Liora hesitated halfway through the word and looked back hurt and disappointed - she seemed to have genuinely hoped to enthuse him with her revolutionary ideas.

"Yes, we do have certain information about those who have attempted to assassinate you," the "alliance representative's" tone became noticeably colder. "And, well, if you are far from our ideals, we can sell you that information, and that will be the end of it."

Alex did not want to quarrel with a useful source of information - it might come in handy in the future. And saving a life is a very useful service that could be called upon more than once. So Liora had to be persuaded that he shared high ideals in every way, but as long as he was assassinated, he could do nothing to help.

"Are you sure our conversation is not being monitored?" he asked cautiously.

"A power cocoon," she circled her hand around the bubble surrounding them. "It interferes with any eavesdropping equipment. And I have a suppressor with me," Liora demonstrated her massive bracelet once more.

The bracelet, indeed, could have been a suppressor, or it could have been a recording device. Fifty-fifty. Alex didn't like the idea of having to trust someone else's equipment.

I'll have to hang on to Taer right after the party and keep up until she finds me so useful device. I need to get my own suppressor up and running. I'll have to find out how they work... and if they can be bypassed.

"Then I'll be honest with you, Lady Liora..."

Alex tried to give his face the same spirited expression as that of the "Madam Representative" during her speech. He pulled her tighter against him and peered into the girl's eyes with the carnivorous gaze of a hungry predator. All his acting skills were called upon to help. He was always good at persuasion and lying, though, as long as he believed what he was saying:

"My heart, like the heart of any decent person, groans at what is happening now. All the injustice..." He sighed heavily. "It is hard for me to see what is happening in the country. Freedom is dying..."

He had no idea what exactly the 'anti-imperial alliance' with the Empire did not share or what the Emperor had usurped, but he was not embarrassed by this. In such cases, it's not the arguments that matter. It's the emotional attachment. Deciding that "the one who does not risk, does not drink champagne", Alex babbled about how freedom is in danger, at the same time, hinting that his entourage is mostly pro-imperial, so it's too early to talk about rebellion and other public acts of defiance. He watched the reaction of the "representative," who, to his delight, seemed to agree - she did not break out of her arms and listened attentively and looked at him fascinatedly, like a rabbit at a boa constrictor.

"...and then I think you understand, Lady Liora - if I am killed, my usefulness to the Case will be zero, and perhaps even negative," he ended his speech a little awkwardly... but, as said before, it is not the meaning of the words that matter, what matters is the emotional vibe, very similar to the ardent courtship...

"I so understand you, Lord Cassard!" Liora sobbed. "I believed that you, like any nobleman, understood the threat to our freedom that the Emperor was doing. You have no idea how pleased I am that I was right about you! You're right - as long as your entourage is unreliable, you shouldn't act. I will ask the Centre for instructions about you, but in the meantime, my cell will help you find the people behind the assassination attempts!" she spoke very emotionally and a little disjointedly.

Alex thought at first that she had figured him out and was subtly mocking him, but then realized that - no - she was being sincere.

Creepy! Not an anti-imperial alliance, but naive children! "Kindergarten trousers on straps" and "fighters against tyranny" all rolled into one. How they haven't all been caught yet! Alex thought with quiet horror. Liora looks about nineteen or twenty, though. But apparently, you can't trust the local ladies' looks when it comes to determining age.

If somewhere enthusiastic children are genuinely trying to overthrow the government and they haven't all been caught yet, it means that there is someone old and clever behind them who benefits from the existence of these children.

I should find out what these rebels are, who invented them, and what they are for. Eh! I wish I had a 'Concise Encyclopaedia for Fools and Transported Persons' book, or a reliable informer!

"Lady Liora, I'd appreciate it if my real name wasn't mentioned when dealing with the Centre," Alex asked with a charming huff just in case. He rightly assumed that with such a contingent in this 'Centre' of theirs, every other 'snitch' to the Imperial Security Service.

"But then how will the Centre know the results of my communication with you?" Liora wondered. "And will they be able to send you instructions if they don't even know who to write them to?"

"And you tell them that you've made contact with 'Lord X'. You can count on his help, but he can't be active at the moment," Alex advised. "Let them send you the instructions. In the end, it's the increase in capacity and the overall results that count, not who has done what personally. And thanks to this scheme, if someone from your cell or the Center becomes a sni... captured, it will not lead to my arrest, and on the contrary, if something happens to me, even under torture, the poli... imperialists will not know anything!"

Liora resisted the idea sluggishly - she probably already had the texts of the victory speeches associated with the name of Lord Cassard prepared. But then she agreed that, yes, it would indeed be better for the "anti-imperial cause".

"You said you had information about those who attempted to assassinate me," Alex approached the question he was really interested in, as cautiously as on thin ice.

"Yes," Liora nodded. "The thing is, during the duel, a sniper must have shot at you. Our fighters neutralized him. Unfortunately, due to several different difficulties, we were unable to interrogate him, only to take a picture. This photo was used to identify him - a fighter from the PVD. In the past, when the PVD was not yet engaged in terrorist acts against civilians, we maintained active contact with them. We even carried out some joint operations. One of our fighters, who used to work with the PVD, recognized the sniper. And thanks to our old contacts, we found out that a large group of experienced fighters had flown to Copeira before the start of the golden season."

"Why would the PVD (I wonder what kind of terrorists they are anyway?) want to kill me?" Alex asked.

"We don't know yet. Usually, PVD actions are directed against imperial officials, military personnel, or people who actively support the Empire. You don't fall into any of those categories, especially since they prefer spectacular means, such as a thermal mine, rather than a sniper shot, which would create a far less public outcry. We have established surveillance on one of the PVD leaders, but so far, the team following him has not obtained any data."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Alex asked. "Like money?"

"The supply of our cell is very difficult, as the Tail sector is very remote from the main Alliance bases," Liora admitted. "So we're definitely short of funds," the Representative was clearly uncomfortable in saying this, but the anti-Imperialist gentlemen did seem to be short of funds. "We are particularly short of ships. We only have one transport here, so it's hard for us to move groups around the Sector..."

"How much do you need?" Alex interrupted - they had been "dancing" for a long time, and he feared it might cause suspicion and completely unnecessary conflict with Baroness Rionale and his mistress. "And I think you understand, in this case, we need "clean" money, so even my options are somewhat limited."

"Of course I understand," Liora assured him. "We need about three hundred thousand danarii."

"That can be arranged," rejoiced Alex, who was expecting to hear a very different number - he's gotten used to a slightly different order of money in the meantime. "Where can we meet so I can give you the money? And how will we keep in touch, anyway?"

"I've been invited to this Voigrom - we can do it there. Or, if you're not flying in for the hunt, we could do it during the Great Ring races. And as for keeping in touch..." Liora was silent, clearly embarrassed. "Well... we've already worked that out. It would be best if I were your mistress... In public, of course!" she hastily assured me. "That would allow me to see you often without arousing suspicion!"

Well, really, Alex smiled grimly to himself. Baroness Rionale, Marquess Turang, Valerie Bellar, and Taer is always hanging around... Another girl would be lost in such a bloom. One wonders how Kayrin will react to "one more" mistress. And the "official" mistress - Isalaya? Both, by all appearances, are not at all conflict-free girls.

"Yes, that's a really good idea, let's do that," he agreed tiredly.

When the orb descended, Alex saw a picturesque scene:

Isalaya, chatting nicely with some elderly man and woman in steel-grey dresses - clearly a couple. Kayrin tried to devastate Marquess with her gaze but was so far unsuccessful. And Taer, who had stepped aside and tried her best to pretend that she wasn't here at all... quite successfully, by the way.

"Alex!" Isalaya rejoiced. "We were just talking about you... or rather how well you dance!"

"I'm afraid that's no longer the case," Alex said with a wave of his hands. "I've forgotten everything - how to dance, too."

"Well, Keyri, say goodbye, and let's go!" The woman in the grey dress spoke up.

"My parents are Baroness Valira Rionale and Baron Joro Rionale," Kayrin commented as she continued to cast furious glances at Isalaya. "You've known them for a long time, but since you've forgotten everything, I thought it would be a good idea to introduce them to you again."

Kayrin's father was tall, grey-haired, and had a neat little beard.

Grey hair and beards seem to be the trend of the season, Alex mentally remarked, remembering Lord Athand

Baron Joro Rionale was dressed in a sort of collarless uniform the color of the night sky and light grey trousers. A massive gold hoop crowned his head. Kaytin's mother, Baroness Valira Rional, was a tall, stately woman in her forties with expressive brown eyes and thin "stern" lips. She wore a gray-steel silk dress covered in fine black and silver embroidery and sparkling with a scattering of small diamonds. A deep neckline revealed a view of her breasts, on which rested a massive gold chain covered with intricate ornamentation. But all the splendor of the dress was overshadowed by the headdress - a veritable crown - with massive prongs slightly bent outward and adorned with large black stones, deep within which flickered purple sparks.

It must be the baronial crown, no wonder Kayrin was shaking it off - that thing must weigh six kilos or more.

"I apologize, but I have to break up your company!" Kayrin's father apologized, showing his clear and deep voice. "The family hasn't spoken to the girl in two years and are anxious to see her, and it's such an occasion to have everyone together," he smiled regretfully. "And then, I think you'll still be able to organize some sort of youth party. Kayrin is staying with you, isn't she, Allesandro?"

"See you at the end of the party, Alex!" Kayrin said a doleful goodbye, giving Isalaya one last meaningful look, and left with her parents.

"Isn't the party over yet?" Alex wondered naively.

"Oh, it's still in full swing!" Isalaya murmured playfully, approaching with the gliding gait of a predatory feline.

"I will leave you, Lord Cassard." Liora smiled sadly. "I hope to see you again sometime."

After hearing Alex's assurances of an early meeting, Countess Liora Wistrile dignifiedly retreated to the back of the hall.

"Interesting girl," Isalaya commented, looking at the retreating Liora's back. "So eager to meet you, she even offered me money!" She laughed and winked at Alex. "You know I couldn't resist! What do you think of her, by the way?"

"Great," Alex nodded. "I'm thinking of asking her out."

Isalaya didn't answer anything - only a surprised eyebrow arched and she changed the subject:

"You can imagine, the poor parents couldn't find Kayrin..." Marquise complained with a feigned sadness on her face. "It's nice to have true friends who can help! Isn't that great?"

Really great... now you have to think about what to do with another girl. All the girls around and all they want is something from you. And not something good... On the other hand, if there were men around, would it be better?

"Looks like Kayrin has a bit of a grudge against you," Alex studied his "mistress" with a thoughtful eye.

Alessandro Cassard had good taste indeed. At least when it came to women.

"Was she?" The Marquess pretended to be surprised. "I think she was remarkably calm. Two years ago it would have been a duel or at least a challenge." She stopped, noticing Alex's scrutiny, and did a spectacular dance move, turning around, and showing herself off to all sides. "Do you like me?" she asked, flashing her eyes playfully from under her long lashes.

Tall and slender, Isalaya moved with the grace of a predator - dangerous but mesmerizing. The tight, slit dress accentuated her magnificent figure and allowed her legs to show just as well. The high, taut breasts did not spoil the impression of grace and impetuosity, despite their... ample size. And judging by the steep roundness below her back and developed shoulders - the marquise was clearly no stranger to the sport. (Fencing, Alex decided, remembering his fencing experience with Baroness Rionale.)

Eyes of a deep blue color, there was something maddening, playful, and provocative about them. What they called "impish" or, in Isalaya's case, more like "demonic". The blond, slightly wavy hair was cut short and highlighted a graceful face with "sharp" features, sensuous lips, and a predatory straight nose completed the picture.

"I like you," Alex admitted honestly.

I like you so much that if we were somewhere else, without all this political stuff... However, in the "other place," I don't think there are girls like you even exist... well, except as a product of photoshop masters.

In one swift step, Isalaya was at his back and hugged him from behind.

"Then why don't we go back to my place? I missed you," she whispered hotly. And suddenly, she bit her ear gently.

Alex turned his head towards her, her lips and eyes were very close and there was something about them that made him want to drop everything and follow her. Anyway, when a girl like that calls like that, you don't say no.

But, as always, willpower and common sense woke up when he least wanted them to. A very unpleasant thought crossed his mind: She was Allesandro Cassard's mistress, she knew him well, and she might notice differences in behavior. Or something else. Maybe they're having sex differently here. I'll fucking expose myself...

"In any case, we should discuss our relationship...," the Marquise continued to exhort. "In private. Oh, and your - blade," she pointed her eyes at Taer, propping up the wall with an absent look. "Rest while we... communicate."

Isalaya managed to say the last word so ambiguously that the part of Alex's mind that really wanted to go along with the Marquise jumped at the opportunity with a joyful hiccup and immediately 'made the theoretical basis':

Indeed, it's worth discussing the relationship anyway - an unexpectedly dumped mistress can start asking all sorts of questions and digging in the wrong places. So it's worth talking to her, yes, yes!

Common sense was powerless in the face of such a "pitch":

"Yes, it's worth discussing the relationship in private," Alex agreed cheerfully and turned to offer his 'mistress' a hand. "Where to go?"

"We will find it," she smiled, taking him under her arm. "I know Tail's palace well - we won't get lost!"

It was not a long walk by local standards, only ten minutes. The Marquess Isalaya Turang occupied four huge rooms, that is, exactly two more than Lord Cassard.

In the rooms they were met by girls in white knee-length dresses and turquoise aprons - they must have been maids. And four guardsmen of House Fyron from the Marquess' escort. Leaving Taer to "rest and mingle with their comrades in arms," Isalaya and Alex secluded themselves in the bedroom. And it was exactly a bedroom - with a giant bed and a couple of armchairs. The rooms allocated to Lord Cassard had only modest sofas.

She pointed Alex to one of the armchairs and walked over to a small table, on which there was a bottle of dark gold glass and a pair of tall glasses. There was a quiet murmur of wine in the room.

"Very spacious, my place is more modest. Did knowing the castle help?" Alex asked as he assessed the surroundings.

"No, it's just that I know the right people in Bentar's house," Isalaya winked, holding out her glass. "And besides, I don't share your famous asceticism. I've got the servants and part of the 'arm' with me. I had to put them up somewhere."

Alex took the offered glass and took a small sip - the wine might even be splendid, but it still didn't taste good, so the glass was placed on the armrest of the chair. The Marquise arched an eyebrow in surprise:

"Strangely, I always thought Bentar's Dew was your favorite wine."

Alex just threw up his hands in response, showing, well, I don't feel like it. She sat down in the chair opposite and was silent, looking at him thoughtfully as if thinking about something:

"Tell me, Alex, do you remember the party at Baron Cilaro's?" Isalaya asked cautiously.

"Er... no. Should I?" he answered, slightly surprised by the change in his "mistress". When they were alone together, her playfulness was gone, and her aura of sexuality seemed to have been turned off.

It clearly smells like another 'political' conversation, thought Alex disappointedly, quickly catching where the wind was blowing. No, of course, he understood that for the case and to maintain the cover story, the conversation was better than sex, but... the "mistress" was too good.

"You mean you've forgotten everything?" the Marquise clarified.

"Yes," Alex sighed, mentally preparing for another negotiation.

No, what the heck! They lure you into the bedroom with innuendo and then slip you into politics! You can't trust anyone!

"Do you know what happened to your family yet?" Isalaya seemed determined to go in from afar. Waiting for Alex to nod, she continued. "You do realize that this wasn't an accident?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so he did not answer. "They were killed because the new Ruling Lord's position was too fragile and their influence too great," she lowered her eyes, tracing the rim of her glass with her thoughtful fingers. "Especially your father's influence. After the battle at Pell, the Guard worshipped him, and his command of one of the Imperial fleets during the war with the Orders gave him a measure of political capital in the Capital too. All that combined with the wealth of your domain..." she stopped talking and laughed softly as she leaned back in her chair:

"You know, I feel so stupid telling you all this. You told me all this yourself when I asked you why you were getting involved in all this intrigue," she stopped talking again, then waved her hand, looking at Alex strangely. "Well, never mind the old case. Let's get down to business. Let's just say you've become the mastermind of a group of people who are dissatisfied with the current ruling lord and are interested in replacing him as quickly as possible."

Hearing this, Alex sighed heavily: Nice! I'm in for some kind of conspiracy as well.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"I told you before," the Marquess said with a frown. "Even though you're still the only one of your Clan, you're still very dangerous - your domain is rich and strategically important to the House. You are wealthy and strategically important to the House. Especially since you will soon be taking your place on the Privy Council. Living under the constant threat of death is not something anyone likes..."

So Lord Cassard was an alcoholic, a womanizer, and a debauchee not out of spirits, but out of the strict necessity of conspiracy. Anything away from the women and booze and they would think him overly talented and whack him just in case. And he quietly, in between drinks, cherished his insidious plans..., Alex leaned back in his chair, digesting what he had heard. He had two questions on his mind at the moment:

"Why are you only contacting me now? What do you want from me?"

"You see, when you were poisoned, we thought that the House Intelligence or the Ruling Lord himself had uncovered our conspiracy and were now systematically destroying its members," Isalaya did not look up and looked uncertain. "There was a split in the organization. Some felt that we should simply retreat, the more aggressive ones suggested eliminating the Ruling Lord and, if the situation was favorable after his death, trying to take over. I saw no point in arguing and simply went on the run. But now that we know that the plot has not been revealed, it is necessary to call off the assassins and continue the systematic work. But these idiots..." the Marquess was about to add something else and clearly obscene, but for some reason, she stopped, sipped from her glass, and continued in a much calmer voice:

"That's why we contacted you so late. It took until everyone came back before we found out exactly what had happened... When word got out that you'd lost your memory, there was some debate about who would be a leader now, but that's not important," Isalaya sighed wearily. "The important thing is that the assassins have still not been recalled. And we are not ready to take over now, which means someone else will do it for us. So they will be looking for the killers, and they can find them... What do we need now...?" Marquise leaned forward and raised her head, looking him straight in the eyes. "We - meaning you and me - need you to sort out the mess Dimir made, put him in his place, call off the killers and, most importantly, restore access to the accounts!"

Isalaya took a few greedy sips from her glass and added:

"Of course, you can't be an effective leader in your current state, but you don't need to be."

Throughout the entire speech, Alex honestly tried to ignore the effect of his companion's appearance and concentrate on analyzing the conversation. It worked, with partial success:

What can be said about Lady Isalaya Marquise of Turang? Firstly, she is a magnificent actress, so neither her playful looks nor her current heavy sighs are to be believed. Secondly, she is trying to drag me into some foul-smelling conspiracy event, although, according to her, I am already up to my ears in it and almost the chief organizer. Thirdly, as a manipulator, she plays in the big leagues - Baroness Rionale was taken out of action with ease and grace, and I was taken to the right place. Though, she had a first-strike advantage over Kayrin. And taking me to a pretty girl's bedroom is very easy.. Fourth, she didn't need me in the conspiracy with my memorylessness - she needed me as a flag to deal with some internal conflicts and as the golden key to some accounts. Speaking of accounts...

"What accounts?" Asked Alex, who had little interest in who was in charge of some murky conspiracy, but 'accounts' were always interesting.

"This is "laundered" money in "closed" OBG accounts. Only you have access to those accounts. In the event of your death, I would have access, but no one could have guessed that you would lose your memory!"

"How much is there?"

"A little over a billion and a half denarii," she grimaced as if she was suffering from a severe migraine.

Oh, damn, they've done a lot of laundering there...

"And how do I get access to those accounts?" Alex asked businesslike.

"I can give you the account numbers, but only you knew the codes. Maybe you wrote them down somewhere, I don't know," she shrugged.

Right, it's worth opening the safe in the castle, maybe there are codes in there. Or not, I wouldn't put the codes for a billion and a half billion in the safe. Actually, it's interesting. According to her, the Marquise will inherit the money in the event of my death, but since I am alive, she cannot get it, and I cannot get it because I don't remember a damn thing.

"Look, 'love of mine'. Why didn't you just kill me?" It suddenly occurred to Alex that this option removed all of the conspirators' voiced concerns.

Isalaya grimaced again:

"Because I am against it! Such an idea has been suggested, but without my support, there is no point. Even in the event of my death, no one else can have access to the accounts."

"Why are you against it?" cautiously asked Alex, who had little faith in the goodwill of people when it came to billions...

"Because the word of the Marquess of Turang is worth more than a billion and a half denarii," Isalaya replied grimly, taking in the rest of the wine in her glass with a gulp. "And then, I don't know about you..." she broke into a classic feminine - I do you, but you don't do me at all! "Our relationship meant something to me."

Maybe they were trying to kill me, after all, there was someone else's sniper during the duel. Or was the sniper from the people who were trying to poison me? Or maybe there was no sniper at all, and it was just staged by the anti-imperialists to gain my trust? Or maybe Marquesa is now just blatantly screwing me, and there is no conspiracy, but a closed account, which she had learned about when she was a mistress, and now she just wants to get access to it? The last idea reeked of delirium and paranoia, and Alex hastened to stop before the speculation took him too far.

"What kind of relationship did we have?" he decided to clarify.

"Friendly. I trusted you very much, and you trusted me..."

Seemed very trusting indeed since she was the one who had access to a billion and a half denarii in the event of his death. That's over nine billion backs.

"Friendly? Was the lover's status used as a cover?"

So it's a standard scheme here, and Liora is not original with her suggestion?

"Yes," she nodded. "It allowed us to spend a lot of time alone, avoiding suspicion. Well, sometimes..." Isalaya's eyes went back to a sexual frenzy. "Things have happened... Being friends doesn't interfere with THAT," she added, smiling invitingly.
* * *

RiP · Apr 13, 2023

Chapter 14

* * *
A large, almost palm-wide, octagonal card of rough, dark green plastic lay on the purple velvet of the table, taking its place among its counterparts.

"The Triple Ring! " Asmi Lertar, a beautiful woman in her thirties in a long, light green dress, proclaimed and looked around triumphantly, her light gray eyes fixed on Alexa. She smiled sweetly and asked. "How do you answer, Lord Cassard?"

There was practically nothing to answer with. All of Alex's blocks had gone down at the beginning of the game, so there was no way to destroy the piece. There was some hope that the next hand would bring a pair of Golden Blades, but...

"I'll pass," he said with a sigh and threw the cards on the table. All Alex's experience of playing the local mix of cards and dominoes had been a couple of games with Baroness Rionale - he wasn't a fan of gambling at all, and to risk such slim odds...

"The Fyronians always pass when the odds aren't in their favor," Baron Janos commented with a lazy voice and, grinning wickedly, laid the Black Lord and Lady out on the table. The Triple Ring, so carefully constructed by the esteemed Asmi, appeared to be broken.

Alex glared at the baron and, smirking kindly in return, once again pretended not to notice the outburst in his direction. Baron Janos had been trying to quip Alex at every opportunity throughout the game. Perhaps the real Lord Cassard would have been annoyed by such remarks long ago, but he - hardened in forum discussions - such clumsy attempts at "trolling" only made him laugh: too fat, dear Baron, too fat.

Seeing the smile, the Baron answered with a look of anger.

Ser Ven Baron Janos was a brown-eyed, dark-haired, mustachioed handsome man with a dashing look, a kind of 'hussar'. He looked a little older than Alex, about twenty-eight, maybe thirty. A black leather hunting suit girded with a wide belt that was laden with the hilt of a sword and a blaster. The rolled-up sleeves showed off his muscular arms, and a long, thin scar on his right cheek and a jaunty mustache completed the macho image. But this macho man was clearly not strong in verbal duels and fights. And he seemed to be well aware of this weakness, which made him even angrier.

"We just know when to be brave and when to be stupid," retorted Lord Sargo Athand, who seemed to think the honor of the House had been touched.

Three of his Blades covered the Baron's Black Lady and the Blue and Scarlet Knights took out the Black Lord.

"It's a pity that not everyone can do that." Sargo Athand added with a sigh

The Three Rings were restored, and Asmi gave Lord Athand the most bewitching smile she could - her chances of victory were once again greater than ever.

"Stopping in time? The Fyronians?" laughed Lady Nadine Pell, a gorgeous green-eyed beauty in a pale blue camisole decorated with abundant gold embroidery. "That was the most absurd thing I'd ever heard."

Laughing out loud, she leaned back in her chair and shook her head to flick her hair away from her face. A wave of long, fiery red curls swept over Alex, scenting him with a delicate floral perfume. Lady Nadine had been paired with Lord Cassard and seemed to find it hard to do. For one thing, as the ruling member of the House of Peltar, she was forced to play in alliance with a Fyron, and not just anyone, but with Alessandro Cassard himself, son of the very Cassard who had planned and executed the unexpected and dastardly (from the Peltarians' point of view, naturally) attack on Pell. Secondly, and more importantly, Alex played a very average game, undermining Lady Pell's chances of winning.

"Fyron won't stop until he's conquered the whole Sector," Nadina added and dropped her cards too.

"The last time House Fyron had expanded its territory was over four hundred years ago, adding a Neutral Sector that did not belong to any of the Great Houses," Baroness Rionale said as if casually, laying out a rack of Guardsmen on six colors. Kayrin was pairing up with Asmi, and everything was going towards a victory for this duo, which was clearly to her liking. And given that their main rivals for most of the game were the pairing of Alex and Nadina, the victory promised to be particularly sweet.

"And the occupation of the seven systems doesn't count, of course?" A sarcastic man in his sixties with a large bald head and a small grey beard asked.

Baron Antrem, head of the Privy Council of House Kilret. His dark green camisole was unbuttoned, revealing a snow-white shirt and a massive gold chain with links as thick as a finger. A broad golden belt only emphasized his rather imposing belly, and his powerful arms and shoulders indicated that the baron had once boasted a hero physique. He was paired with Baron Venom Janos and was now doing his best to destroy Asmi's Triple Ring, but his pair of Knights Black and Gold weren't even strong enough to deal with Kayrin's Four of Guardsmen.

"These systems were never officially part of House Fyron," Lord Athand replied.

"Oh, that's a caveat worthy of a Twilight Adept! Bravo!" Baron Antrem did not let up. "You could say it wasn't an occupation, but the transfer under a responsible administration."

"Strange to hear you talk about excuses. Doesn't your house buy Strike Cruisers on Tallan under quotas for antipiracy ships, calling them - Assault Frigates?" Earl Marell Kerrim, a knight of House Ispar, inquired.

"If it's not carrying his fighters, it's a frigate!" Antrem snapped, discarding his cards. "And besides, the Emperor's representative didn't find any wrongdoing in that!"

"Oh, that's an excuse worthy of a Twilight Adept!" Marell returned the courtesy.

"You and your ally Fyron are no better. Take, for example, the infamous representative program." Nadine Pell rushed to Baron Antrem's aid. After all, House Kilret remained the only ally of House Peltar.

"What's wrong with our representative program?" Lord Athand resented it.

"Well, for example - the purchase of yachts."

"You know that, unfortunately, not all members of House Fyron can afford to buy their ship..." Lord Athand was eager to explain: "That's why, apart from pensions, our House has also decided to give yachts for representation purposes to those noblemen who are in certain financial difficulties so that they can lead a life in keeping with their status."

Wow, they live here! Mentally marveled at Alex. So, if any of the noble class cannot degrade further on their own money, they will be provided with everything they need from the treasury. I wonder how much this 'poverty allowance' is?

"Is that why you bought three hundred boats?" Nadine innocently asked.

"Why not? We can afford it!" Lord Athand shrugged. "And besides, we have over a hundred clans in our House - they are quite numerous, and we are even thinking of increasing the number of yachts!"

Nadine stepped forward and asked, narrowing her eyes slightly:

"And the fact that the yachts purchased turned out to be Aegis models is surely a coincidence?"

"A reliable yacht, well established. And spacious, and very many ladies prefer to travel with a rather large entourage."

"Yes?" Nadine was indignant. "The fact that this ship has nearly corvette-like fields... The fact that it can be armed in two hours by four technicians... The fact that it has two moorings to which your stormtroopers can easily dock... Is that all it takes, a cute little thing? And then, of course, it's purely coincidental, just a silly coincidence, that House Fyron has decided to increase the number of Stormtroopers by six hundred vehicles. Isn't it?"

"The Stormtroopers are being ramped up in line with the planetary security plan," Lord Athand replied in a condescending tone of voice. "And the Aegis' external sling assemblies are used to transport flyers and shuttles, as you know...

"You're simply bypassing the Emperor's edict limiting the number of hyperdrive warships!" Nadina persisted.

"The Aegis is a civilian ship. And besides, the Emperor's representative found no wrongdoing in that." Lord Athand replied with a smile, taking advantage of Baron Antrem's argument, which was what Nadine was defending.

"Please, no more politics," pleaded Lord Asparo Velaske, who was acting as the organizer of the current Voigrom from the House of Melato. "We are, after all, on a hunt, not at a meeting of the Council of Great Houses."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about that since the entire Imperial fleet is at the disposal of House Melato," Nadine quipped.

She stood up from the table, adjusting the dress that didn't exist, and turned to Alex with a cold smile:

"Thank you for playing, Lord Cassard. You have been a pleasant partner. And congratulations on your victory, dear Lartar, and to you, Lady Kayrin. My loss will be brought to you by my secretary," with these words, she quickly left the games room.

"Pity the Lady Nadine has left us," Asmi sighed, leaning back in her chair and picking up her glass of wine, "Now we'll have to find another person for the fourth pair. Lady Kayrin, will you continue to be my partner?"

And, after waiting for Baroness Rionale to nod, the esteemed Lartar suggested:

"Another match, then? Just find the eighth..."

"Dear Asmee, I'm a little tired, so I'm going to hold off," Alex said. "And I'm not much of a player, so you can play three doubles."

He put his loss on the table - two cards of five thousand denarii - and hurriedly slipped away before Baroness Rionale could think of anything. After all, he had come to this Voigrom to meet Liora, and that was a meeting best held without witnesses.

Well, almost no witnesses - Taer will know anyway. Alex mentally corrected himself.

During the day's flight from Copeira to Estella (where the Voigrom was taking place), he decided, after much deliberation, to tell Taer everything, believing, not unreasonably, that he could not do without confidants, and that much depended on Taer as it was. His only concern was whether his "security specialist" was "snitching" to Countess Durlurl, so to speak, "for old times' sake". Intuition said no snitching - not the right person - and reason countered that given the panic-stricken terror, Taer felt towards her former boss, she should only "ask properly" for her to tell it all herself. But, in any case, hiding from someone who literally follows you around and sleeps in the next bedroom is extremely problematic. So when Taer came into his quarters to report on the execution of the security arrangements, Alex decided to have a 'heart-to-heart' talk.

* * *

A short, rather timid knock on the door distracted Alex from his meditative contemplation. He stared at the blue pulsing fabric of hyperspace that rippled outside the window. It was his way of trying to cope with the excess of emotions and impressions. Just ten days ago, he could only dream of flying into space, and now he was aboard his own goddamn yacht, flying to another star to hunt some native beasties there.

People have gone crazy for less.

He grinned and placed his hand on the cool surface of the huge window that occupied a good half of one of the bedroom walls. Beneath his palm, behind the thin layer of glass and force fields, a living hyper tunnel glittered and pulsed as if it were alive. The one his yacht had pierced through on its way to Estelle.

The knock on the door was repeated, this time more audacious.

"It's open!" Alex shouted, plopping down on the long sofa along the window, covered with the snow-white skins of some very furry but unlucky animal.

The door, finished in light red polished wood, slid open to the side, and Taer stepped into the cabin. As usual, in her perfectly white uniform, she carried a large plastic container in her hand, and a stylish leather folder with an infoblock tucked under her arm.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you too much, Your Lordship?" inquired the 'security specialist' with as cold a smile as possible.

After the story that happened in Isalaya's bedroom during the Unification Feast, Taer took offense and was again very formal, knocking every time and wondering at every opportunity: "Am I disturbing Your Lordship too much?"

The problem was exacerbated by the fact that it was Alex, with a protocol face, who told the bursting expert that it wouldn't be a bad idea to knock first. Lady Isalaya the Marquise of Turang, on the other hand, expressed herself in less conventional... in far less... or should I say, not conventional at all. Hypothetically, the Lady and Marquess should not have known such expressions at all, but not only did she know them, but she masterfully applied them, flashing at least a couple of very original idioms in the process. However, her ladyship was excused by the fact that it was her shoulder that had been struck by the paralyzing discharge fired "on reflex" by Taer.

The Marquise dodged the second shot, which was aimed at her head, with an inhuman reaction and fell on top of Alex. Thanks to this, the incident had been free of casualties and destruction. The only casualties were a healthy black and purple bruise on Isalaia's shoulder and a shattered kneecap on the shoulder of one of her Arm's guardsmen who had attempted to stop the "security specialist" from coming to her aid. Mere trifles, really.

If it had hit the awning in the face, it would not have helped to change the façade of the dress. But everyone got off lightly. However, the understanding of the "bodyguard" was lost. When it became clear that what was happening in the bedroom was clearly not a threat to the life and health of the Lord (rather the opposite), Taer began to babble, apologize for her hasty actions and explain that the induced reactions required her to shoot first and then deal with ...

This was where Alex should have sided with his "specialist" - after all, responding to any suspicious rumbling and shouting was her direct responsibility, even if the rumbling and shouting were due to entanglement in the sheets and falling off the bed directly onto the tiny dessert table due to over-occupation with what was happening and because of the incredible energy of Marquise Turang. But instead of saying something like, "Oh, come on, Taer, it's all right - it's your job," Alex made an obviously silly remark about knocking and trying not to be disturbed.

On the other hand, at the most important moment - crashing to the floor and smashing the table to pieces, when someone bursts in and starts shooting... I should be given a medal for composure - how did I manage not to yell in foul language, "stepping on a cat in a dark room"? Congenital aristocratism for sure!

Anyway, since then, there have been cold shades in the relationship with the 'specialist' because Taer considered herself guiltlessly offended in the best of feelings, and she was even right in some ways.

On the other hand, maybe she's just jealous. Alex wondered, hypothetically, while pointing to the opposite chair. But after thinking about it, he dismissed that option. It's called overconfidence. You're an irresistible heartbreaker, sure!"

"Have a seat, Taer. What brings you here?"

"I've brought you a report on the measures to strengthen your security, as well as a report on how the allocated funds have been spent," the "specialist," said as she seated herself on the edge of her chair.

"Well, come on, it's interesting," Alex leaned forward, looking at the girl with interest.

Taer opened the container and took out a rather large suppressor shaped like a truncated pyramid. The suppressor was placed directly on the floor in the center of the cabin. When the yellow light on top of it flashed, and the room was filled with a quiet hum, the 'specialist' took an infoblock out of her folder and began to read it out:

"During the reporting period, five standard days, the following items were purchased as part of the security enhancements: one stationary, pulsating-type protective field generator with continuous operation of the Saphiron model, three high-speed flyers for planets with high radiation fields of the Porolir model with protection level IM99, personal shields of Sorquim Labs, two of them," Taer interrupted, coughing into her white glove and continued reading again:

"In addition, an increase in staffing was made to support the security plan. For this purpose, three Master Pilots with the specialization of "assault" were hired, and two Master Field and information systems operators were hired. They all have a standard five-year contract, with a salary of thirty-five thousand danarii per year for Pilots, thirty-seven thousand per year for Master Information System Operators, thirty-nine thousand per year for Master Field Operators," Taer paused again and looked expressively at Alex:

"If I may remind you, Your Lordship, you should pay your attention to the question of the status of the people hired, namely the Pilots and the Information Systems Operator - do you wish them to be included in your Arm or not?"

"What's the difference?" Alex queried with interest as he watched the performance of the 'Taer official offended'.

"The difference in status and position in society - being part of the Arm of the Lord is very honorable. According to the Imperial Edict on the Guard, it is compulsory for all those holding combat positions or positions equated to them to be enrolled in the Arm of the nobility. Therefore a Master Field Operator must necessarily be included in your Arm. Pilots, because they drive non-combat vehicles and information systems operators, may not be in the Arm, but may be on the list of employees.

"What would you advise?" Alex asked, getting up from the sofa and heading for the panel behind which, if he remembered the captain's explanation correctly, there should have been a bar.

"I would suggest, as a morale booster, that you take all the replenishments under your Arm. However, you should remember, Your Grace, that the size of the Arm is limited by Imperial edict. For the Lords of the Empire and their equals, it is one thousand men."

"How many people are in my Arm now?" Alex asked, hiding almost waist-deep in the alcove where the bar was located - nothing non-alcoholic could be found yet.

Tinkling with the stash of bottles, he asked: "By the way, Taer, do you want anything?"

"Thank you, Your Lordship, but I am on duty, and so I will refrain," the girl mouthed and added: "There is one man in your hand at the moment."

"Well, I don't see the problem then," his lordship shrugged as he approached Taer with two bottles and glasses. "We'll put them all in the Arm."

He sat down comfortably at the girl's feet, stooping down on the thick and fluffy dark red carpet that covered the bedroom floor. He opened one of the bottles and sniffed carefully at its contents.

"Hmm, juice, I think, for cocktails. What do you prefer, Taer? Juice or Bentar's Dew? It was recommended to me as a decent wine."

"Thank you, but nothing, Your Lordship! I'm sorry," she said, pushing herself deeper into her chair and moving her legs away from Alex.

"Well, suit yourself. If you change your mind, here..." He set the wine glass on the armrest of her chair and took a sip of the juice himself.

"If Your Lordship sees fit to enlist all the replenishment into your Arm, then you must also choose your First Arm. This man will be the First Sword of your Retinue." Taer was silent for a moment, raising her eyes to the ceiling as if remembering something. "And since you are the only one in your Clan and Domain - this man will also be the First Blade of the Domain and thus will be among the Blades of the House..." Taer, only now beginning to think what her words meant, spoke more and more quietly, and her voice began to lose confidence again. "Which means bringing him to knighthood, which can only be awarded to the most worthy..." she quoted the last words almost in a whisper, then fumbled for her glass and drained it in a gulp.

It had somehow never occurred to Taer that the growth in the number of her lord's arm might well have the prefix Daim in front of her name...

"And who would you recommend for the job?" Alex asked innocently as he refilled the Bentar dew into his 'specialist' glass.

"I don't know, Your Lordship. I think someone you can trust. You know best..." said Taer, barely audible, taking the newly filled glass in her hands.

"You know," Alex sighed. "I wish the person I could trust was you. You help me a lot, especially now that I can barely remember anything." He paused, took a small sip of juice, and, with a heavy sigh, continued:

"And, by the way, I'm sorry that I said "you should knock" back then - I was wrong. I really could have been killed there, and you were absolutely right."

"Erm... thank you, Your Lordship, it's my duty..." Taer whispered, still a little baffled by the prospect.

"...Two things really worry me," Alex went on, not noticing the babble of his 'specialist'. "The first is that you didn't come to my service on your own, but you were appointed by the Consulate. That is, it was not your own choice but the idea of your superiors. Maybe you saw it all in a coffin?" he asked, finishing the rest of the juice.

"Saw what?" Taer asked again, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I mean, maybe you don't like it at all and would rather do something else or serve somewhere else?"

Taer thought about it:

"No, Your Lordship, I wouldn't want to serve anywhere else. I'm glad I am, in fact, to be serving with you."

"That's good!" Alex smiled. "Then there's the second thing that worries me."

"Even two moments," he added, thinking, "Your excessive piety for Countess Durlurl and your resentfulness. I'm not perfect, of course. (Alex was going to say "not an angel," but who knows if there are angels around.) And I'm a bit of a nuisance, but you're a good one, too. You're the one who starts mumbling "Your Lordship" and walking around with an impenetrable face. That's not the way to do it!" He stated categorically and looked at Taer, waiting for her reaction.

The girl sat in her chair with a sort of distracted look on her face and looked through her lord. So the prospect of a knighthood seems to have struck my specialist to the core. Realizing that a coherent response from her now would be impossible, Alex continued:

"I would like my relationship with my First Blade to be more friendly. Something more than a boss-subordinate relationship. And more trusting," Alex added, refilling his juice.

He twirled his glass thoughtfully in his hands and, after taking a small sip, said:

"You know, I need someone to lean on, someone I can trust 100%. And I'm willing to encourage that person in every way, both in terms of status and financially. Encourage him very generously. I would like to see a hundred percent loyalty in return. And not blind loyalty but a conscious and proactive one. That's why I'm concerned about your attitude towards Countess Durlurl. I have certain tensions with her, and the fact that Taer Diltar's guardsman is afraid of her makes me somewhat uneasy. Can I trust Daim Taer not to be afraid of Daim Esta?" he asked, staring intently at the specialist.

"Yes, my lord... I mean, Alex," Taer assured him in a daze and asked cautiously. "What's your problem with Countess Durlurl?"

"Um... how can I put this..." Alex started to drag it out, frantically thinking about what to tell the 'specialist' and what not to. "Anyway, she wants me to marry Valerie Bellar, and I don't want to."

Well, don't get married. She can't force you to, especially since you'll soon be one of the Privy, and she'll be forced to listen to you.

Yeah, except Countess Durlurlle is threatening to bury me before she'd let me, so scary, into the Privy Council, Alex thought unhappily. And I haven't got the tools to bury the Countess before she can bury me. I don't have a ready-made "my lady" and I don't have my own secret service - I'll have to grow from what I have... with unpredictable results.

There was Isalaya - far more suited to the role of "my lady" - but the loyalty of the lovely marquise was so dubious to Alex that he regarded her only as a "temporary ally"... well, as a fabulous mistress, of course.

"You see, the Countess thinks I'm an Adept," Alex admitted, deciding there was no point in keeping it from Taer. If she's going to tell anyone, it'll be the same Countess who already knows everything. "And she said she'd do anything to keep the Adept out of the Privy Council. Like, tell the Inquisition about it. Or somehow she would use the resources available to her."

She almost choked on her wine when she heard the word - Adept. She swallowed frantically and asked cautiously: "And you are... an adept?"

Who the hell knows?

"How do I know? From what I understand, no, I'm not adept. But I'm not even sure I understand what an adept is," Alex sighed.

"An Adept is a specially trained initiated psionic," Taer came to the rescue, clearly quoting some long-remembered text. "Adepts have different talents, but most of them can influence other people's thinking and sense of the future. Initiation greatly affects the mindset of the adept, making them mentally unstable and socially dangerous. Adepts must strictly control their emotions and adhere to special psychological techniques to maintain their sanity. After the Orders of Guardians showed their inability to control adepts, the Inquisition was established to control and select stable adepts and isolate or destroy unstable ones."

The last words about "isolation and extermination" Taer spoke in a dropped voice, looking frightened at Alex.

"I'm not adept!" he reassured her. "I can't read minds, and I can't seem to see the future, either. And then, as I understand it, I've already been tested."

But the real Lord Cassard might have been. Who the hell knows?

"An uninitiated psionic or specially trained adept is very hard to detect if he doesn't use his abilities." The girl cheered him on.

"I got that from Countess Durlurl," Alex nodded with a sigh. "But I don't think I'm adept. She suggested I marry Valerie as a compromise, saying that if I did, I would not harm the House. But if I don't..." Alex traced an eloquent finger across his throat. "That's the kind of trouble I have with her."

Taer looked thoughtfully at the wine in her glass, then looked up at Alex and asked quietly:

"Maybe it's not such a bad idea. You've never been interested in politics, so losing your seat on the Privy Council isn't a tragedy. And Valerie's a pretty girl and a Ruling Lady, after all. Or..." Her face lit up with inspiration. "You love Isalaya, don't you? But I don't think Valerie would interfere with your relationship..."

Alex stared thoughtfully at Taer, trying to work out whether this was a carefully considered speech from the talented actress and agent of influence of Countess Durlurl or - a genuine concern for his safety coupled with the romantic naivety of youth.

No, she seems to be sincere - "Katz offers to surrender!" Fuck you, gentlemen - the Russians don't surrender! - he decided with cheerful anger. - Some little brat is going to decide who I will or will not marry...

"You know, I think we can surrender at any moment. But I don't want anyone deciding what to do for me. I don't want to have a conflict with Countess Durlurl (just because her chances in this conflict look much better), but I don't want to put up with her diktat either."

"What to do then?"

"I don't know! Thinking is the first priority. Maybe there's some method of proving that I'm not adept?"

"A check by the Inquisition might confirm that you are not an Adept... And if you are?" Taer put the glass back on the armrest and leaned toward Alex.

If it's a yes, then it's a shame. And then to the bonfire or whatever they do to the adepts here. And if not, there's nothing to stop the Countess from still pushing for the purely political benefits of her alliance with Bentar.

"So it's not an option," Alex concluded.

The option is to "whack" the countess and replace her with someone more loyal. According to Isalaya, 'killing' is being done right now, but 'bringing in someone loyal' is a problem, so it's better to put off 'killing' for the time being.

"Well, I hope we can work something out." Alex got up from the floor. "By the way, what are these?" He asked, pointing to the two massive thick padded belts and a set of massive bracelets that were in the container by Taer.

"It's personal shields," she informed me as she took the belt out of the container. "I was talking about them. It's powerful enough to absorb a dozen or so blaster shots or the energy of a small explosive device. I'd advise you to keep it on while you're hunting since it'll be more difficult to keep you safe when you're there." She added grudgingly.

"You see, I have to meet Liora there," Alex admitted.

"Well, if a date with this girl is worth risking your life..." the specialist said.

Right, she's a romantic... Do they have chivalrous novels here too?

"Erm... she's not just a girl, she's a Representative of the Rebels - they've offered me cooperation..." Alex said, a little shyly.

"Whose Representative?!"

Taer moved sharply forward, and in doing so, she knocked the glass off the armrest. The glass fell to the floor with a melodious clink and a dark stain of spilled wine spread across the carpet.

"Damn shadows!" She scolded as she raised her glass. "Do you have any idea what you're dealing with? If the SS gets wind of this...!"

"I understand, but they were the first to report anything intelligible about the assassination attempts on me, which is, you know, very important information... from my point of view," Alex excused himself.

"And what did they report?" With doubt in her voice, Taer asked.

"It's a long story..." Alex sighed and began to tell her what Liora, "Madam Representative", had told him.

His story was received with great skepticism - Taer suggested that the 'rebels' themselves had organized the second attempt to gain Lord Cassard's support. She suggested that, before it was too late, all communication with them should cease. He had had similar thoughts, but in the letter he had received after the trial, Liora had hinted at some new and important information "on a case of interest to you'.

"...That's why I decided to go to the Voigrom."

"If someone still wants to eliminate you, there's no better place and time to do it than on the hunt," Taer muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

"I know," Alex agreed. "And what to do?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, so Taer did not answer it. She got up from the chair and headed for the exit from the bedroom, turning around just inside the door:

"I hope this information is worth it." And went out into the corridor.

And how I hope so... Alex flopped down on the huge bed, draped in black silk bedspreads.

Outside the window, the hypertunnel pulsed in a blue haze.

"Damn, what a mess I've been in!" He complained aloud.
* * *

RiP · Apr 15, 2023

Chapter 15

* * *
Taer moved her body slightly to the right and, without stopping, with a single powerful movement of her left hand, tossed aside the short blonde girl in the incredibly lush, dirty gray silk dress that had so unfortunately gotten in her way. She cried out in surprise and collapsed onto the marble slabs of the floor, arms outstretched wide. The older woman, standing behind the girl, was simply knocked off her shoulder and continued her run.

Taer was almost out of breath now and was "in mode", picking up speed rapidly - she was almost flying, pushing her body forward in sharp thrusts. Her shoulders were still, and so was the bullet gun clutched in her right hand.

The perception narrowed, and there were only three objects left in the world: her, her partner, and the target. Everything else was only an obstacle in the way of the target - a tall and short dark-haired man in his forties, wearing a brown jacket and dark grey trousers.

The man ran thirty paces ahead, easily sidestepping the many passersby - literally seeping through the crowd that filled the transition junction of the monorail station. Taer and her partner walked through the crowd like two blades, leaving behind the commotion and shouts of people unlucky enough to get in their way. This ingenuous running strategy was paying off - Taer felt that they were faster, and the distance was inexorably shrinking.

Their target seemed to have come to the same conclusion. The fugitive was no longer in time for the monorail platform. He jerked sharply to the right, towards the stairs leading to the snack bars. In a few jumps, he passed the stairs, jumped over a couple of tables, and darted toward the public restrooms. For a moment there was an empty space between him and Taer. The bullet whirred and twitched in her hand, bullets flew dryly near the target's head and struck the jamb of the passage, knocking sharp stone chips and fine grey dust from the marble slabs that covered the wall. One of the walls, unable to withstand the impact, burst with the sound of broken glass, covering the floor with jagged shards and exposing the dark red fluted base of the plastic wall.

The man cried out, reflexively covering his face with his hands as several sharp shards of stone slashed across his cheek. And dove into the passageway.

Taer froze in the aisle against the wall, glanced at her partner, and, waiting for him to nod, put a machine gun out in her outstretched hands and pressed the trigger. A moment later, two machine guns were whirring, spraying fire into the washroom. The small room was filled with the sound of bullets hitting, the clang of bursting exterior panels, and the crunch of tearing plastic partitions. Without stopping to fire, they burst inside in one swift burst and immediately dispersed sideways, away from the opening where it was so convenient to send a round.

The gunmen froze, driving their barrels cautiously, but no one fired back - there were no new targets.

The small public lavatory - literally fifteen paces long, decorated with cream marble tiles - was tattered with numerous hits. The partitions of the individual cubicles were mangled and lay on the floor, which was quickly covered with water spurting from broken cisterns and sinks. There was fine stone dust in the air. Here and there in the walls gaped dark red patches of plastic that had appeared in the place of the split slabs.

In the center, lying face down on the floor was a dark-haired man in a brown jacket - the target. There were three gaping holes in his back near the spine. Behind the target, near the opposite wall, covered in shards of mirror, a young woman was frozen in a ridiculous pose. The sink beside which she stood had been shattered by several hits, and water was now gurgling quietly over her, making dark, damp paths spread across the bright purple suit.

Perfect silence - only the sound of water carpeting the room in a gleaming carpet. The water near the bodies was darkened by a slight reddish haze.

Taer pressed the trigger again, breaking the silence with a buzzing sound, and the man's body twitched faintly as several more bullets struck his back.

Cautiously treading on the wet floor, covered with squeaky tile splinters, they approached the target. The partner kicked aside the light stun gun the target was clutching in his hand and froze, taking a couple of steps back. Taer squatted down beside the man and rolled the body over onto its back.

The brown jacket was blackened with water and blood and gleamed slightly. His dark wet hair was sticking to his forehead, his brown eyes with long "female" lashes were wide open, a slight smile was on his full lips, and a thin, slightly upturned nose and the corner of his mouth were streaming out of a rather wide, slightly blurred, scarlet stream of water. There was a look of surprise and joy on the target's face as if he had been given an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

She started to search his pockets when she was interrupted by a surprised cry from her partner. Taer reflexively reached for her weapon, glancing up at the same time, and then froze.

The target's eyes glowed softly blue. Before she could even be surprised, the glow faded, and a small, apple-sized glowing ball of soft reddish-yellow was woven over her body at about the level of Taer's face. It was slightly blurred, like a candle flame hanging in the air.

And at that moment, a sticky wave of animal terror came over her.

"Close your eyes! Don't look!" yelled her partner from somewhere on the side.

But she was already watching, and a panicked thought was flitting wildly around in her head.

We killed him wrong!

She didn't know why it was 'wrong' or how it should have been 'right' to kill him, but she suddenly realized that it was wrong to kill him that way and that the touch of that fire was the creepiest and scariest thing that could happen. It's disgusting. It's nastier than death. It is to cease to be yourself. It is the absolute end. It is scary and vile.

The realization flooded her mind, she didn't know where the thought had come from, but its truth was obvious. It was too close. Taer wanted to run as far away from that balloon as possible, or at least turn away, but she realized with horror that she could not move. She couldn't even close her eyes! Fear gripped her. Her body no longer obeyed her - she didn't believe it could happen. Especially that it could happen to her - to be paralyzed by fear. Her consciousness was beating inside her paralyzed body, struggling to cover her eyes even a little - she wanted to scream from the horror that filled her, but she couldn't even do that.

The orb, swaying slightly as if propelled by a gentle breeze, began to move closer to her face. Consciousness howled with pleading: "Please, not me! Not me! Not me! Not me!"

As the flame approached, a tightness deep in her chest grew to her heart, and the nasty feeling grew stronger and stronger, filling her whole body. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream... just to breathe - to get relief - to die, but not this. It was already very close - the distance was so close that it was too far away, and it was too late. It was already very close - about a palm away - her face could already feel the soft warmth coming from the orb. And that warmth, for some reason, made her consciousness rush and howl like a terrified animal.

This can't really be happening! Her consciousness was howling. I can't be that scared, I have blocks, I can't be that scared!

Taer realized this was a dream; reality could not be that frightening. But she was sure that the touch of fire in her dream would be just as frightening and disgusting. She tried to wake up, but it didn't work, which made it even scarier.

I want to wake up! Please, I don't want to be here!

The fire was quite close, the first soft petals of flame touching her face...

At that moment, Taer felt a terrible pain in her legs as if hundreds of red-hot needles had been stuck in her calves.

And she woke up.

* * *

She sat up on the bed with a jerk and gasped for air as if she had been underwater for so long. She wanted to scream to get rid of the unpleasant heaviness that filled her chest and enveloped her heart, but all she could do was wheeze. She was covered in a sticky, cold sweat, both legs aching and cramped, her body shaking, each breath hard to take.

The blockage remembered that it existed - the pain had subsided. Taer dangled her legs off the bed and kneaded her calves to calm the cramp. She was still a little shaky.

But she was in her stateroom aboard the Estal and was flying on a Voigrom. The wooden panels of black fire oak with mauve silk inlays, the huge round bed draped in dark purple sheets, the thick dark red carpet on the floor... It was her favorite cabin, which was supposed to be for her Lord's noble guests, but had long since been 'occupied' by the 'security specialist' on the grounds that the cabin had a 'strategically important location'.

"And, most importantly, no flames nearby - I woke up in time!" She said out loud with relief and winced at the sound of her voice - it was hoarse and lifeless.

But anyway, the environment was soothing to her: the abominable heaviness in her chest had gradually subsided, her breathing had recovered, the large shivers had stopped, and the cramp in her legs was gone, only reminded by a slight ache in her calves.

And the flames, indeed, were nowhere to be seen.

Taer squeamishly tossed aside the sweat-soaked blanket and waddled cautiously with her still 'wooden' legs to the shower room. On the way, she slammed on the security terminal panel as an old habit, triggering the test mode.

Turning on the massage mode, she put her face under the tight, hot jets and exhaled a long breath:

"Be cursed the day I agreed to install the induced reactions!" she moaned.

Although the position of 'personal security specialist' mainly meant preventing scandals and dealing with unwanted leaks to the Holo-V - it was thought that Taer should also be able to act as a bodyguard, which required certain skills, such as hand-to-hand combat, which the former Navy lieutenant had no chance of acquiring.

So when she (by the way, by Countess Durlurl herself!) was offered the prospect of receiving Induced Skills, she did not hesitate long and agreed. After all, it was a measure that allowed her to enter the Lord's Arm without wasting two years in training - she could have sacrificed her right hand for the sake of such a prospect! All the more so at that moment, the possible side effects did not seem to be anything really unpleasant. Headaches? What nonsense! Possible insanity? Statistically, a fraction of a percent! Far more likely to crash on a flyer or not come out of another hyperjump. Death? Oh, don't be ridiculous - even rarer than insanity!

When the tests showed that Taer had an excellent susceptibility and rejection was unlikely, she was completely clear of any doubts. Anyway, she was given, as the clever people at the Medical Intelligence Center put it, "big, fat skills". The more complex and "better" the skill being induced, the greater the chance of conflict. Even if you've never had a similar skill. Because a true skill does not exist on its own but is closely linked to the personality. So, when you get a skill of this level, you also get a piece of personality... with all the consequences. At least, that's what scientists think.

"I bet those freaks in the white coats were just happy to experiment and cram three times their skills into me!" Taer hissed angrily, leaning against the shower wall.

But, as it was explained to her, she had almost zero negative feedback... Anyway, anyway, after the terms of the roll-out, she did not become a vegetable and run around screaming; "Oh, how colorful everything is". Which was taken as a victory by the project staff. And, in fact, they weren't much wrong.

Then there was a course of replacement surgery to bring her body up to the level of skills she had acquired, though Taer had no complaints about her fitness before that. Two more weeks later, having received braided bones, new tendons, altered muscle structure, and a perception booster, and becoming nearly twice as heavy - she began an intensive training session that would show what of the induced skills had been assimilated.

The result? Uh-oh... She could drive and pilot anything that had been released five years before. She was pretty good at fighting (to put it mildly) and had a lot of security reactions built up in her. She also developed the habit of ordering bitter taymar, which she hated, and wrapping non-existent locks around her finger (because she always had her hair in a tight knot or ponytail).

It would seem to be little things, unintrusive scraps of the "donor's" personality... But then the nightmares began. Surprisingly vivid and realistic, in which she died in different ways: she was torn apart by burst thrusters, she was eaten alive by some creatures, she found herself in an ion breakdown zone without bio-protection, she was burnt alive in an airborne capsule that had depressurized...

Taer, of course, decided that it was the donor's memory, hence schizophrenia. Or worse. But she was reassured by the psychologists and medics who were watching her - they pointed out that it was difficult for a person to die more than once, so it was not a memory at all, just a reaction of her mind to the installed skills.

"If you think about it, you got off very lightly - we were expecting much more serious problems, so just take plenty of sedatives at night!" The psychologist in charge of the project told her at the time.

"You should get off as easy as I did today with that 'orb'!" The memory of the 'orb' made Taer shiver.

Now, having rested, she could not understand what was causing such a panic-stricken terror. But the mere memory of the orb made the nasty heaviness in her chest wake up again. This nightmare clearly stood apart from the others - she had no idea that the horror could be so monstrous that she could be so afraid.

After stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel, Taer called for a droid to make the bed and, pouring herself some cognac from the bar, plunged into an armchair.

"It was bullshit," she reassured herself. "He was wearing a jacket with a collar that hadn't been worn in about five hundred years, and I'd shot him with a bullet gun - they'd been around since the Guild Wars, at the most, twenty years ago!"

"And that orb..." She twitched involuntarily again. "It looked like a description of Graceful Fire. But why was I so terrified of it? Maybe it symbolized my parents' religiosity, and my reaction to it was compensation for my failure to live up to their expectations." At one time, back in naval intelligence, during very long shifts, Taer had a huge collection of inventories from the "Know and Reveal Yourself" series at her disposal. From time to time, that kind of reading was reflected. "And why shouldn't one look at him? Idiocy..."

She sipped her cognac thoughtfully and looked at the clock that flashed on the small screen of her communicator: six in the morning, ship's time - no point in going to bed.

I won't survive another nightmare like that.

The nightmares usually came after the active manifestations of the installed skill. Fortunately, Lord Cassard's service was not conducive to active manifestations, and in the two years that Taer had been a 'personal security specialist', the installed skills had only manifested themselves twice - once during the poisoning and again at the Unification Feast, after the embarrassment in Marquess Turang's bedroom.

Yeah, it manifested itself, didn't it? Taer grinned grimly, remembering the huge bruise on Isalaya's shoulder and her tirade about it. Where did she pick up that? It's not like she was on Guard...

The manifestation of induced reactions is a very strange sensation. Suddenly you start to do something, even though you don't understand why or what you are doing.

There was a lot to remember.

She thought I wonder what that rumbling sound was in the bedroom, but the accelerator had picked her up gently, making the world grainy, the sounds grainy, and everything around her slow and fluid. And the body that had been sitting peacefully at the table with the Marquise Arm Guards before suddenly literally threw itself out of the chair and towards the bedroom, simultaneously snatching a blaster and knocking the table over on those very Guards in the process. The Guardsmen got the worst of it that time, and the worst of it was the poor fellow at the door as he was blocking the way.

A side kick to the knee is very painful, and if the kicker weighs as much as a muscled man and a half... Anyway, the guardsman blocking the path was still falling, and Taer was already firing. She wasn't aiming. She wasn't looking for the target. She knew exactly where it was. This was a new experience for her. No, she didn't foresee it, like an adept. She just knew where it was, the target as if she had entered the room before because the target could only be there and nowhere else.

Eventually, she shot first and only then realized what she had shot at - Lord Alessandro Cassard, partly wrapped in light turquoise sheets and partly... naked, was lying on the floor on his back. On top of him lay Lady Isalaia Marquise Turang, hissing in pain... completely undressed. Her porcelain shoulder was reddened by a paralyzing shock, and her left arm was hanging by a whip.

Taer, who until then had only been an unconcerned observer, had managed to think aloofly that "I think Isalaya has bigger breasts" when suddenly the "installed skill" "realized" that the protected object was in no danger and made her hand, leaving Taer alone with the noble gentlemen.

With very annoyed noble gentlemen..., Taer pulled out a tracksuit from the wardrobe. She decided to go to the gym - she hadn't been able to find time to exercise lately, and it was making itself felt with the occasional cramp. She had to pay for everything: cramps for her altered muscle structure, nightmares for her induced reactions, and an inability to wear pretty shoes with heels and swim in the pool without a compensator for her heavy weight (despite her rather graceful contours).

I wonder what I'll have to pay for the prefix Daim in front of my name. Anything but dreams like this! A couple more nightmares like this, and I'll be able to retire, having lost my health in the service of the House! Could these be echoes of the donor's personality and her fear?

Taer often thought about who her donor was. She must have been a strange girl... or woman, used to shooting first, talking later, piloting anything that flies and rolls, and being able to fight very violently.

Probably some kind of Intelligence agent or Navy sabotage team. That's an odd skill set for a bodyguard.

She was distracted from her thoughts about her donor by the growing noise coming from the ajar door of the gymnasium. She was not sure why, but instead of just walking in as she had planned, she crept up to the door very quietly and almost without breathing. And peeked inside with literally half an eye.

At the back of the gymnasium, paneled in light polished wood, inside a wide circle for exercises with bladed weapons with her back to the entrance, was a girl in a milky white fencing jumpsuit. Baroness Rional. She was literally tormenting the fencing droid with ferocity. The noise was caused by hitting the hull of this droid. Why Rionalу? There was no other girl with a figure like that on the ship.

Taer was still contemplating whether to go in or leave Kayrin alone with herself and her incomprehensible problems - when suddenly the baroness kicked the droid away from her with a kick to the body and shouted:

"Stop the program!" And turned towards the entrance.

It became apparent that her face was covered by a solid milky white mask with a black monogram in the center. She pulled the mask off and smiled strangely:

"Well, come in, Taer. What are you standing there for?"

Taer walked in, looking as if she was going to do it anyway, thinking to herself: //Damn! How did she see me?" She was about to sneak out, not that the Baroness's company would be intolerable to her, but she was not in the mood for polite smiles.

"Would you like to warm up with an old friend?" Kayrin asked, nodding towards the racks of weapons and equipment.

"Er, no thanks Kayrin, but I'm not in any shape to be - a little workout on the machines is probably all I can do."

"Yes? And I heard that Lord Cassard's Arm defeated the Arm of Marquess Turang. And that you were involved in that momentous battle. I wanted to learn from that," the Baroness smirked.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding and my mistake," Lord Cassard's Arm replied dryly, then thought for a moment and added with a wicked smile:

"I am very sorry to have interrupted their lordships at such an intimate moment."

Kayrin raised an eyebrow in surprise, then laughed when she realized it had been said seriously:

"Great shadows, Taer, do you really think I would stoop to jealousy?" she wagged her finger.

"Come on, Kayrin, I always thought you were above petty emotions and knew how to lose with dignity," Taer sat down at the trainer.

"What makes you think I've lost? Ah, Sain Lieutenant Diltar?" Kayrin asked, still flippantly, pulling off her gloves and sitting down at a nearby trainer.

"Because when I burst into the bedroom, it was Marquess Turang, not Baroness Rionale, and when one speaks of Lord Cassard's potential bride, the name Valerie, not Kayrin, is heard... That's why I came to this conclusion, Itory Cadet Rionale."

"Flag Captain Rional," Kayrin corrected with a polite smile. "I told you I was going to reinstate myself to the Guard."

"Ah, what an impetuous career!" Taer smirked, lifting the weight with her legs with an effort.

"Well, you know us noble fools, patronage here, relatives there, acquaintances there..." She glanced at Taer. "But something tells me you've got a better career... Oh, First Blade Diltar?"

Rumors are spreading obscenely fast - the Lord only offered me the position of First Blade last night, and early this morning, Baroness is already in the loop. Eavesdropping?

"Why did you decide to come with us on the Voigrom?" Taer hurriedly changed the subject.

"Why not? I've always loved hunting. You know that. And the fact that I decided to go with Alex... well, I'm a bit of a sybarite, and there's no gym on my yacht, for instance."

"This is the first time I've heard of anyone being dissatisfied with the level of comfort of the Silver Arrow."

"Beautiful, isn't she? Admit it, you've got a crush on her too, haven't you?" Kayrin smiled. "I lent her to Ayuni for the time being - she and her brother are planning some big party for the 'youths'. You know how important it is for them to "prove themselves" at that age."`

I sympathize in advance with the poor souls who will be cleaning the boat after a bunch of sixteen-year-olds have had a go at it

Taer pretended to concentrate on the exercise.

"By the way, Taer, would you mind telling me, as an old friend, what exactly is troubling Alex? I'm a little worried about him," Kayrin naturally ignored Taer's "concentration" with an aristocratic nonchalance.

"I have no idea. What makes you think he cares about anything?"

"Well, I am, after all, a member of the Guard, and I can recognize the stella of a heavy-class planetary generator. Then again, there's another escort added besides you... very distinctive looking."

By 'escort of distinctive appearance' she must have meant Lance Dudo Guwar, the only one of the new arrivals Taer had taken with her on the Voigrom. Because there was no point in the others being there. And Dudo wasn't a lance just anywhere. He was a member of a sabotage group in the fleet, and they, too, occasionally have the need to tap into the nets, to break into block-circuits. But Dudo's training, as well as his appearance, was indeed appropriate. And if it came to firing, she was even more confident in him than she was in herself.

"You know, Kay, I think you'd better discuss this with Lord - it would be a violation of my oath," Taer replied coldly, picking up her compensatory belt and heading towards the pool.

Taer entered the pool, tossed the compensator on the nearest sun lounger, and, just as she started to undress, remembered that she hadn't brought a swimming costume - she wasn't expecting to see anyone here this early in the day.

Ah... to hell with everything! she thought angrily and threw off her clothes.

She took a couple of steps to get a running start, pushed off the edge with force, and dove straight in, without a compensator. Her body arched and plunged into the water in the middle of the pool, raising a huge column of spray. In principle, even if her body was perceptibly denser than the water, she could still swim - she just had to work her arms and legs very hard. So after fifteen minutes, Taër climbed to the edge of the pool and sat up, breathing heavily, all her muscles aching pleasantly, the characteristic residual pain that had plagued her after the cramp is gone. She reached up and grabbed one of the nurlong towels that were on all the chaise lounges, folded in neat black triangles.

I'm surprised Kay didn't follow me, Taer thought, wiping herself off. It's not in her character to fall behind so easily.

Usually, if Baroness Rionale noticed that she was annoying her interlocutor, she would only increase the pressure. It was always a favorite pastime of hers to annoy others.

And she was up obscenely early - even during the service, it was rare to see her before eleven o'clock. Probably she didn't sleep at all.

After wiping herself off, Taer tossed the towel aside and settled into a lounge chair, watching the small waterfall on the other side of the pool with thoughtful eyes.

She was torturing the droid like she was taking her breath away. The baroness seemed so pissed off about something that she just wasn't paying attention to me. I wonder, what could have made her so mad?

Actually, Taer had a gut feeling that something wasn't right about Kayrin Rionale - if at first her sweet flirting with Alex could be explained by her desire to marry him (Also, by the way, I don't know why), then now, after the near official announcement of his marriage to the Ruling Lady of House Bentar, it just didn't make sense!

Again, a sudden desire to serve in the Guard again, though she had resigned from the service before she left for Onstum, saying she was bored with it.

The horrendous scandal that broke out in the family did not stop her, and after all, Baroness Rionale is not Allesandro Cassard - she depends on her family for many things."

She hadn't even arrived yet and had already been reinstated to the navy, which she had always disliked and had shown Taer with her navy past in every possible way.

And she was reinstated during the celebrations and immediately promoted to the rank of Flag Captain

There was little surprise in the fact that she had jumped five ranks at once - her family was rich and very influential, and her father was a member of the Privy Council.

But Flag-Captain... It was only now that Taer realized how strange that in itself was. To command a ship? Somebody's been pushing the political levers as hard as they can.
* * *

RiP · Apr 17, 2023

Chapter 16

* * *
The yacht, gently illuminated by the blue glow of the onboard lights, gently approached the Melato House guest station, gradually leveling up and preparing to land.

They left behind a twelve-hour jump to Istal, a meeting with the House Bentar escort, which turned out to be unexpectedly impressive - six fighters and a light corvette-and a four-hour flight from the jump zone to the planet because after a meeting with the captain, and given the difficult navigational situation, the in-system jump had been abandoned. It was unlikely, of course, that something could be on the trajectory that would noticeably damage the yacht, but the captain did not want to embarrass himself in front of the Bentars by crashing into some stray asteroid. Taer was in complete agreement with him on that.

Milord, who had acted like a thirteen-year-old on a free tour of a military museum, had finally settled down and was no longer tantalizing Taer and the captain with endless questions of "What is it?", "How does it work?", "May I...?" and was quiet, literally sticking to the huge panoramic window in the bow. He kept his eyes fixed on the fighter jets circling in a figure-of-eight pattern as they periodically approached the yacht.

After escorting the yacht to the station, the escort fighters bid farewell shook their gravistabilizers, and moved at full speed into the interior of the system, almost instantly transforming into small dimly glowing dots that disappeared a few seconds later. The Corvette, on the other hand, had slowed to a crawl, according to the Tactical Terminal, and had kept well behind the yacht. He must have intended to wait for a landing.

Bloody bastards! Taer looked with admiration at the disappearing fighters.

The lap of honor was performed in defiance of all regulations dangerously close to the yacht, but - impeccably precise, perfect - she never once noticed the characteristic flare and haze that appears when the forcefield is hit.

The triangular silhouettes of the latest Tallan-built Iskra were covered in mounds of blaster ports and launchers. Their charcoal-black hulls were covered in a painting of two golden branches, starting from the middle of the "wings" and joining around the golden cockpit dome, surrounding it in a delicate ligature as if it were a frame.

The black-and-gold machines suddenly leaped out of the void and, with an eerie screech as if someone was scraping glass with a blade, whizzed by the observation deck, covering the large panoramic window entirely for a moment before disappearing into a small, shimmering star. They came so close you could make out the silhouettes of the pilots, hidden beneath the golden veil of the cockpit lantern.

"Impressive!" Alex stood closest to the panoramic window and could see the Sparks almost at arm's length.

Taer didn't answer, shrugging as if to say, we've seen better. She was not proud of her naval pride to admit out loud that the Bentarians, who didn't even have a fleet, were capable of anything impressive.

You have to admit they have at least six very experienced pilots, she added mentally. Well, or the pilot module on the Sparks is something very special.

The Lord turned to her with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face and asked: "Hm... Taer, what was that about?"

"Circle of honor as interpreted by Bentar."

"No, I mean the squealing that was heard as they flew past," he was even more embarrassed.

"Well..." she sighed. "The machines were passing very close, requiring great precision in positioning, so the gravity keel and grav stabilizers were likely to have peak power, and they were coming very close, so it was a bit loud."

Alex made a disgruntled grimace as if he'd eaten something sour:

"Maybe I'm wrong," he began cautiously. "But it seemed to me that in space," he waved his hand towards the panoramic window. "Sounds can't be heard because there's no environment that transmits vibrations..."

Taer smirked it's always nice to be the smartest person in the room and to avoid yelling across the observation deck, she came down from the command gallery and walked over to the lord, and sat down in a nearby chair:

"The point is that we don't hear the sound of a passing fighter, but the resonance of our bio-protection field, which reacts to the radiation from that fighter's engines and generators... and, in general, to all tangible energy sources in the vicinity or directly affecting the ship..."

Taer didn't want to go into the physical stuff, which she had forgotten after her navigator training, so she tried to explain things as simply as possible:

When a bio-protection field comes into contact with an energy source, such as a radiation stream, it resonates, partly absorbing and partly reflecting this energy, thus protecting the ship. And because the structure of the bio-protection field is in direct contact with the intra-ship atmosphere - this resonance causes the sonic vibrations that we hear.

Alex was silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling and digesting what he had heard, then asked again: "Then why can't we hear our engine or the noise of the star in whose light we fly?"

"Because Istal is a very, very expensive yacht!" Taer smiled sadly. "She has a special noise suppression system installed on her. The fighters came very close, and their energetic imprint was very strong - so we heard them. On regular ships, where no such system is installed, you can indeed hear the hum of engines and stabilization systems, and you can also hear the "whisper of the stars" or "starburst" - the bio-protection response to radiation from nearby stars."

It's also stunningly beautiful, she mentally added with a sentimental smile.

"Isn't that disturbing?" Alex watched the expression on Taer's face with interest.

"Nope," she shook her head. "It is said to help - one quickly gets used to it and stops noticing the hum of the engine. Many people even like "stars' whispering". Silence, on the other hand, is a signal that the bio-protection field is overloaded or disabled, which means there is a threat of irradiation or depressurization."

Because of this, those who have been flying for a long time develop a real fear of silence.

"Interesting..." Alex exhaled, staring out the window again, where the Melato House guest station had already changed from a tiny star to an identifiable object.

As they approached, the station grew larger and larger, filling the screen and the portholes of the forward observation deck. His Lordship Lord Allesandro Cassard stared at the approaching station without looking away.

There really is a lot to see, though, Taer grudgingly admitted, catching herself staring at the station as well:

In the cold abyss of space, a huge white castle, built in the classic Melatian style, floated on the green disk of Voigrom, tucked into the green of the gardens. The central dome was slightly pointed and formed a cupola. Luminous windows of light pink crystals, starting from the top and running to the middle of the dome, cut through the structure. It was as if a huge pink flower covered the dome. The building had two wide wings that covered the inner garden and, of course, columns... Classical Melatian architecture - and without columns? There is no such thing!

Four massive columns of light marble with fine pink veins, twined with vines of dark bronze, towered above the castle, ending just above the dome. The tower was crowned by the figures of dragons, patrons of the hunt, spreading their wings and opening their mouths.

The castle and the gardens surrounding it rested on a circular metal base - about three chambers in diameter and about two hundred steps high - which must have been where the technical floors with their support systems were hidden.

Great shadows, how much does it cost? Taer mentally exclaimed

The huge open zone, which a pair of heavy cruisers would have easily entered, required enormous field strength, for the bio-protection and forcefields were the only barrier between the blooming gardens of the station and interstellar space with its void of radiation and fluxes of micrometeorites.

She glanced at the focusing blocks around the perimeter of the disk on which the castle stood. They were clearly not standard - instead of the usual sheaves of needles there was something resembling druses of crystals, and there were many of them. The protection system must have been repeatedly backed up in case the main generator failed.

"I heard the Melatians had something special planned for this Voigrom, but it seems they've managed to exceed even their wildest expectations," Marquis Degrasto's husky voice came from behind her and made Taer wince as she did not see him enter the observation deck.

So good "security specialist". All the hope is in the guidance system!

"The castle and sculptures are stunning!" The marquis continued. "I think the interior decoration will also surprise us. It would be interesting to know the name of the architect..."

"I think our hosts will allow us to do so," said Taer.

The castle is pure posturing. It would be much more interesting to know what company supplied the field generators. It would also be interesting to see the specifications for these generators. However, the owners will certainly not give us such an opportunity.

"I take it that the stations usually look a little different?" Alex wasn't addressing anyone in particular.

"Yes," Taer and the Marquis replied at the same time.

There was an awkward pause, Taer with a look trying to make it clear to the Marquis that she was apologizing and keeping quiet in the face of his experience and age. And the Marquis, also with a look, apologized to Taer and hinted that, of course, he was conceding the right to vote to the lady and so on

The staring game with the Marquis dragged on. so Taer sighed and continued:

"Usually, the stations look much simpler - some chaotic jumble of residential and technical modules. Or a spheroid of some kind, at best decorated with flowers and the logo of the House to which the station belongs."

"So this station is something special?"

"Exactly!" Crebo Degrasto gave a solid nod.

"Your Lordship, station control has given us a vector and cleared us to land. What do you want us to do? - The captain asked tactfully as he came down from the command gallery."

Alex looked questioningly at Taer, who shrugged her shoulders, thinking to herself slyly: No, we'll hang around and admire the station.

"What do you normally do in these cases," Alex replied to the captain. "Go for a landing or something..."

The captain bowed his head and with the words, "Will do, Your Lordship," hurried back to the command gallery.

The yacht, illuminated by flashes of mirrored glare, slowly sailed under the protection of the station's field and, with the solid thud of the traction generators, hovered over the spacious area in front of the main entrance.

The hatch swung open, and Taer immediately jumped down onto the dewy green of the lawn. It was so natural that she didn't even think about what she was doing. Here was the open hatch, here was the ground, her body habitually grouped and jumped, and her hand pressed to her side to hold her missing weapon. The girl took a step to the side to make room for the retractable gangway, and only then did it suddenly dawn on her what had happened:

Great shadows, all protocol screwed! She was mentally horrified. First to go should be Lord Cassard, then me as First Blade of his retinue, then Kayrin, then the Marquis Crebo Degrasto... and then the rest

Damn it! I'm totally screwed! Taer exclaimed in her mind as she froze beside the gangway.

She put on as blank a face as possible and tried to pretend that everything was going as planned.

The welcoming party, a handsome tall brunette in his forties, also pretended that everything was going according to plan, only the smile on his face became a little more intense. And the face was somehow familiar to Taer - she must have seen it before - but trying to remember the name was to no avail.

One of the lords of the House of Melato?

Meanwhile, seeing Alex and Marquis Degrasto descending the gangway, the welcoming party stepped forward and began a prearranged speech:

"I am pleased to welcome you on behalf of the House of Melato to this Voigrom! Allow me to introduce myself, Lord Asparo Velaske!" with these words, he held out his hand in greeting."

My lord introduced himself as well and then took the greeting man's hand and shook it, just as if two commoners had met. Taer mentally groaned, but it was too late to change anything. One could only hope that the Melatian would not cause a scandal and would prefer not to notice the insult.

Lord Velaske's smile became strained and somewhat bewildered - there was an awkward pause:

"Let's better get into the castle." he finally said, hiding his hands behind his back and taking a step back.

At the castle, the "hospitable" host took his leave quickly, citing business and incoming guests. The steward, a short, dark-skinned, and bald man of indeterminate age, escorted them to their rooms and departed, assuring them that he was ready to fulfill the wishes of his dear guests.

Marquis Degrasto and Baroness Rionale, surrounded by servants, immediately went to their rooms to change while Taer and Alex were left alone in the spacious room.

The room was decorated in the classic Melatian style: long low sofas covered with small silk cushions, dark red velvet rugs embroidered in gold, plenty of draperies, and long narrow windows from ceiling to floor, covered with dark purple curtains with gold trim.

"Dudo, check the rooms," Taer waved her hand towards the bedrooms.

"Yes, Madam Lieutenant!" Dudo muttered and, picking up his bag of equipment, walked out.

"Your Lordship," Taer began as soon as they were alone. "What is acceptable in a meeting of friends, or when dealing with commoners, can be taken as an insult by another lord, especially one from another House..."

"What do you mean?"

"A handshake," she explained. "In terms of accepted protocol, lords from different houses should greet each other differently."

"And how should it be?" Alex got up from the sofa and came closer.

"Like this," she showed him, gripping her arm around his wrist.

"That's original!" Alex smirked. "Well, I'll keep that in mind next time. So, shall we go mingle with the noble public?"

A short servant reported that "most of their lordships gathered in the hunting hall". Taking him along as their guide, Alex and Taer set off in search of "their lordships".

And without waiting for Kayrin! she thought with a slight sneer.

The participants of the Voigrom were just arriving at the castle, so the hunting hall was half-empty - the rare guests were lazily wandering among the stuffed trophies from the previous Voigroms.

"Taer, are we going to hunt something like that?" With a touch of panic in his voice, Alex asked, peering at the stuffed Onyx screamer. The screamer's mouth was open in a soundless roar, showing sharp, needle-like teeth.

"No," Taer shook her head. "The trophy of this hunt is an Oiker. But it's not here," she added, glancing around the display. "Perhaps in another part of the hall..."

"Let's go and look then," Alex glanced absently at the people in front of him.

Densely arranged scarecrows and tall vases of flower bushes lined the narrow, winding paths that converged in small "clearings" with the most imposing of the spoils in the center - around another corner, they came upon a small group of guests gathered around a huge stuffed Platypus. In a corner were tables with refreshments and a few servants, frozen in anticipation of orders.

They were about to pass by with polite smiles when a woman in her thirties, standing among the guests, called out to them:

"Lord Cassard!" She exclaimed as she placed her glass on the tray the servant had so diligently placed and headed toward them. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's a pleasure, too," Alex replied with a casual smile, sending Taer a questioning look at the same time.

She looked intently at the woman who approached, genuinely trying to remember who it was. She was tall with dark brown hair and green eyes, beautiful, though her age was already a little noticeable, and was dressed in a long evening gown of a light green shade, which was a little strange - most of the guests were dressed in various versions of hunting costumes.

I have no idea who that is, Taer thought, at the same time trying to convey that thought to Alex with a look.

"I am so glad you have recovered! You have no idea, your Lordship, how worried we were about you!" The stranger was smiling broadly.

"Thank you for your concern - it's very kind of you. But, you know, I'm sorry to say that I have completely forgotten your name, lady..." The lord held up his hands in guilt.

"Asmi Lertar," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. "A member of Tuskor's board of directors. And only 'honorable,'" she added. "I am not a noblewoman."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, honorable Asmi," the lord cautiously looked at the outstretched hand.

Shake it! Taer tried to show, shifting slightly to the side so her signs wouldn't be visible to the 'honorable' Lertar.

Alex continued to hesitate, probably not knowing exactly how to shake the outstretched hand. Taer shook hands with herself behind Asmi's back, showing the lord the correct way to shake hands.

Alex, seeing the clue, shook the outstretched hand in relief, shaking it vigorously:

"I am very glad, honorable Asmi, very glad. What do you think of this Voigrom?"

"I think everything is just fine!" Asmi smiled back. "Although, admittedly, the invitation was a complete surprise to us."

The Lord replied with an absent-minded smile.

"Tuskor and House Melato have often had misunderstandings in the past," Lertar explained. "I hope that will change."

"Tuskor is something very familiar, but I can't remember what it is. My memory has been failing me a lot since the poisoning," the lord complained.

"Union of Tashida Corporations," Asmi smiled embarrassedly.

As the conversation progressed, Lertar paid the lord unobtrusive compliments and invited him to visit more often at headquarters, "where your lordship is always very welcome".

Corporatrix... thought a bored Taer with a slight squeamishness, saw a 'very important person' and immediately engaged in 'unobtrusive' personal promotion.

After fifteen minutes, the lord finally managed to fend off Asmi Lertar's annoying charm, who finally even tried to stick him with her business card in case "you have any questions about the management of your shareholding in the company".

Though, on the other hand, that's her job, Taer intercepted the card with a cold smile before the lord took it.

Asmi froze with surprised eyes for a moment and then laughed nervously, hiding her hands behind her back:

"Well, it was very nice to see you, Lord Cassard. I wish you a good evening!"

"You too, dear Asmi."

As they stepped back, he turned to Taer:

"What are you up to?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Well, you refused to wear gloves, Your Lordship." Taer pulled out the analyzer as she went and poked the card with it. "Shadows knows what might be on it."

"I hadn't thought of that somehow."

The analyzer found nothing objectionable in the thin gold plate with a monogram of emeralds in the center. But that didn't tell her anything. So Taer slipped the card into her pocket, deciding to activate the suppressor if the lord were to have a conversation with anyone beyond a conversation about the weather.

They wandered around the hunting hall for another ten minutes before finding a stuffed Oiker.

"An imposing beast." Alex quietly assessed, walking around the massive carcass covered in stiff, prickly-looking stubble. "Predator?" He nodded at the two long pale yellow fangs that didn't fit into its mouth.

Taer shook her head in the negative:

"A herbivore. And with its fangs, it tears up the soil and rips the bark off trees. But the animal is aggressive and can trample. Or gouge through with its fangs."

"What do you hunt with?"

"With a hunting blaster. One or two accurate hits may be enough."

"What if I don't hit it?"

"There's me and Dudo for that - we won't miss," Taer assured him.

"Do hunting accidents happen often?"

Taer wanted to tell him that hunting accidents happened often.

First, aristocrats considered it beneath their dignity to hunt non-threatening beasts.

Second, hunting with weapons of primitive races and peoples, such as spears and crossbows, has become increasingly popular. The hunting apologists regarded this as a more honorable and valuable trophy.

Well, there have also been shootouts among hunters who mistook a stray in the nearby bush for a coveted trophy.

Despite this, all attempts to amend the statutes of the Voigrom have met with fierce opposition from traditionalists and hunting enthusiasts, for "what is the point of hunting if the danger does not make your blood boil!"

The saying "If you want a friend dead, invite him to a Voigrom" was still true.

But her story was interrupted midway by the appearance of a young couple, the gentleman, judging by his broad reddish-gold belt, was Bentar, but his companion was flaunting a black and scarlet fringed ribbon tied on the bend of a curlicker's arm. This traditionalism in dress and the swords on his belt indicated that two 'blades of honor' were approaching them.

Taer moved forward just in case - the Blades of Honour were an aggressive people and, given his reputation, not friendly with Lord Cassard, to put it mildly.

As the Blades approached, Taer was surprised to recognize the Bentarrian as Lord Brenor Lister, who had been the second in the Lord's failed duel. The Bentar man's companion also needed no introduction for anyone who follows the most famous Blades of Honour.

Lady Dahlia Amita was the daughter of a very successful banker. So, successful, in fact, that he was able to buy the name and title of the lord from the house of Kerlith. The practice of selling titles was accepted only in that house, but even there, it caused a lot of controversies. What to say about the others. Such "bought" nobles met with strong resistance from aristocratic society and were not respected, and the Blades of Honour were despised altogether.

One of the few exceptions was Lady Dahlia, who, despite (or perhaps because of) her origins, took the code of nobility's honor remarkably literally. Any hint that questioned her dignity was met with a challenge to a duel.

By the age of twenty-two, she had over thirty duels under her belt, five of which ended in the death of her opponent and over ten emergency operations that brought Dahlia back from beyond the edge of the Bright Flame. In other words, the girl fit in perfectly in the society of the Blades of Honour - after all, 'it's not origin that counts, it's the nobility of spirit'. Isn't it?

The best companion for Lord Brenor... Taer was already regretting her decision not to wear her personal shields for the time being, to leave the maximum resource for the hunt.

The pair of Blades of Honour approached Lord Cassard, and Taer saw a thin scar streaming down Dahlia's face. Dissecting her right eyebrow, it disappeared, reappearing on her cheek just below her eye and descending lower before finally breaking off at her cheekbone. It looked like the mark of some recent duel - the last time Taer had seen her, about a year ago, there had been nothing like it.

Poseur! Taer thought with irritation. I bet she left the scar for beauty's sake.

The scar, indeed, did not spoil Dahlia in the slightest. On the contrary, it added mystery, highlighted the perfect shape of her face, and gave strength to the gaze of her light brown, almost yellow lynx eyes.

"Lord Cassard, I am glad to see you!" Brenor Lister exclaimed, smiling happily.

"I'm very glad to see you too, Lord Brenor!"

"I didn't expect to see you here - I thought you weren't much of a hunter. By the way, I'd like you to meet Lady Dahlia Amita! Lord Allesandro Cassard. I must tell you, Lady Dahlia, contrary to all the rumors, Lord Cassard is a man of honor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Cassard. I'm sorry I trusted the rumors too much before. My apologies."

"Oh, Lady Dahlia, you have nothing to apologize for! I'm very pleased to meet you." Alex looked at Dahlia with interest.

Lord and Dalia shot each other's eyes curiously for a while.

"I must confess that you have made me a little sad, Lord Cassard!" Lord Brenor put on an ostentatious look of sadness.

"What happened?" the lord was genuinely surprised.

"I remember you said you'd stop by sometime before the duel to give me some blaster lessons. You never came to see me."

It was Taer's turn to be genuinely surprised

Not to mention the fact that the lord is simply an abominable shot, it's strange that Brenor Lister would need anyone's shooting lessons at all.

Although he was known primarily as a superb swordsman, he demonstrated equally superb marksmanship in blaster duels.

It's kind of weird.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Brenor!" Alex's hands threw up his hands with a sorrowful expression. "The worries of this ridiculous Consulat trial have taken over me entirely..."

In the course of further conversation, Alex assured Lord Brenor that he would certainly drop in on him as soon as business permitted and invited him to "visit on occasion".

Lord Cassard's and Lord Lister's conversations were illuminated by the spectacular appearance of Kayrin, who immediately joined in the conversation, lighting up those around her with benevolent smiles and no sign of displeasure at being 'dumped'. All four of them continued to chat vigorously under the polite silence of Taer.

They talked for about an hour, wandering leisurely around the hall, discussing the trophies on display until their conversation was interrupted by a very courteous servant of the House of Melato. The short and swarthy servant bowing incessantly, ushered the noble lords into the main refectory, where a feast had already begun on the occasion of the beginning of the Voigrom. At the feast, the conversation was naturally interrupted as the "talkers" were seated rather far apart Lord Cassard, as a member of one of the noblest and oldest families, sat practically at the head of the table, as did his "blade", while Lady Dahlia and Lord Brenor sat somewhere nearer the middle. Baroness Rionale sat just three seats away.

All the more so when the Peltars were caught between them, who were clearly not delighted with such surroundings.

* * *

So, that's who the Imperials have claimed the Exclusive Patrol Zone for. Taer saw whoever was sitting at the head of the table.

At the head of the table, with her head propped on the right of precedence and bored, sat the reason for such unceremonious behavior of the imperial security - Baroness Faith Istar. To her right, her companion, the Stack-Captain of the Security Service, was seated in her dress uniform and was telling the baroness something, but the latter did not even pretend to listen.

Lady Faith stared into space, tracing her finger thoughtfully over the edge of her plate. From time to time, she took a larger piece and tossed it to the left without looking. The piece, having made a high arc over the table and leaving a trail of sauce drops on the tablecloth, disappeared into the teeth of the baroness's squire.

The seat to the left of the squire was empty, and the representative of House Rien, seated a little farther away, squinted warily and flinched a little every time the swirla slammed shut with a loud clang, bite another piece. And House Rien's representative was understandable... More than that, her composure was enviable!

"What's that beast across the hall?" Alex whispered, leaning over to Taer, who was poking at the dishes with her analyzer as she tried not to draw attention.

"Swirlla," she whispered. "It's a very dangerous and aggressive creature."

"Then what is it doing here?"

"This is the squire of Baroness Istar and the First Blade of her domain," Taer replied with a barely perceptible shrug. "Not giving him a seat at the table would be a terrible insult. Both to the Baroness and to our entire House."

I can imagine the Melatians agonizing over how to place such a squire, Taer thought with a slight gloat. Even went out of their way to break protocol by placing the squire on their left side. And rightly so - I'd be mad to have that thing near the lord. Though, swirl can easily jump across the table.

"Can an animal be a squire?" Alex asked in surprise, squinting at the object of the discussion.

At this point, Swirlla was gnawing on a large piece, grasping it with her upper paws, grunting happily. She was scratching her belly covered in long blond fur with her lower pair, her scarlet cloak tucked underneath.

"Swirlla is not an animal... I mean an animal... I mean..." Taer sighed, trying to find the words. "As far as I remember, the most intelligent Swirlas are at the developmental level of a six-year-old child - not enough to recognize them as an intelligent race. But in Baroness Istar's time, things were somewhat different, and anyone could be appointed a squire as long as they could perform the duties. Even a non-human..."

"That's not the way it is now," she added.

"Then one more question," Alex whispered even more quietly. "Why is the red-haired girl in the green camisole sitting on the left looking at me so strangely?"

"Lady Nadina Pell of House Peltar - they hate Fyron and the Cassard family especially."

"I have amazing neighbors," Alex muttered, grabbing his glass from the table and leaning back in his chair.

While Taer was answering Alex's questions, the other guests of the Voigrom had time to gather around the table, and a succession of welcoming toasts began.

The first to speak as 'host' was Lord Asparo Velaske, the representative of House Melato. He welcomed everyone in the name of his House, expressed his joy at the presence of the Peltars, and wished everyone good luck in tomorrow's hunt. The oldest representative of the noblest family, who sat at the head of the table, was to make a toast next. All eyes turned to Baroness Istar:

"It's so dull here..." she sighed, absently scratching her squire.

Swirlla purred softly, her ears and large fluffy tail twitching slightly - probably from pleasure. Lady Faith stood up from the table, tall as she was, and looked around the room for a long, appraising look:

"There's no one to punch in the face," she concluded frustratedly. "Hopefully, tomorrow will be more fun."

The SS officer accompanying her tried to say something, but Lady Faith, paying no attention to him, headed for the exit from the hall. Stack Captain, with a slightly confused look, shook his hands, pretended to smile apologetically, and hurried after his ward.

Well, one less potential problem, Taer thought contentedly. Two even, if you count the crazy girl and her squire as two separate problems.

"It seems to be a good tradition," Alex remarked with a smile in the ensuing silence. "As long as I've seen her, Baroness Istar has been thrilling the noble public, and the public is in awe. Maybe that's why they invite her? To add spice to the dullness of everyday life?"

"I'm afraid it's a little too spicy for our mundane days, Lord Cassard," Lady Nadine Pell smiled thinly. "But since it's seasoned for us, the Emperor..." she waved her fork like a magic wand and tipped a small piece of meat into her mouth. "Everyone will eat it up without a trace. With smiles..." she added, showing a few more teeth than necessary for a polite smile.

"As long as the body doesn't reject..." Alex sighed and leaned towards Taer, whispering:

"What's so dangerous about them?" He nodded at Lady Faith's squire as they moved away.

Swirla walked funnily - walking upright was clearly uncomfortable for her, so she would occasionally drop down on all six paws to catch up.

"They have a different perception of time," Taer replied, surprised herself, Why would I think that? What kind of time?

Why she said that was unclear to her...

"I mean, they've got mad reactions and agility," she explained, seeing Alex's eyebrows rise in surprise. "And they can sense danger, they say, just like the Adepts. And if they're particularly clever, they can be trained to use a blaster, as they have good paws for that. They are also fearless, aggressive, and incredibly loyal to their handlers."

"It's a useful little beast, isn't it?" Alex concluded.

Lady Faith and her companions departed. With their departure, the silence that had hung there was replaced by chatter. They tried to act casual and pretend that nothing had happened, but the official part of the "feast to commemorate the beginning of the Voigrom" was uneventful.

At the end of the feast, the company reunited and continued their conversation. Taer was diplomatically silent, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Lord Lister suggested going to a local shooting range where Alex could demonstrate his shooting skills. The suggestion was enthusiastically supported by Kayrin and Lady Dahlia. There, to the delighted smiles of Baroness Rional, and the surprise of Taer, her lord demonstrated a quite passable, even good, blaster fire. After shooting for about an hour, they went to the main hall and from there, at Kayrin's suggestion, to the games room, where they were stuck for a long time.

Taer did not take part in the game, sitting comfortably on the sofa behind the gaming table. The stakes were "friendly" - five hundred denarii per "round". So the two Blades of Honor were out of the game rather quickly, a wise move on their part - this was never a lavish audience, and members of the clan were usually reluctant to sponsor such scandalous offspring.

Amid the game, a young girl in a light brown hunter's suit of soft suede, with large emeralds shining on the collar and cuffs, surrounded by intricate embroidery of red gold, entered the hall.

There's our 'rebel'! Taer squinted unpleasantly as she noticed her entry.

Not that she had any personal grievances against the rebels - Taer was far removed from intra-imperial politics - but the thought of WHAT the SS or Imperial Intelligence would do if they found out about the lord's contacts with the Anti-Imperial Alliance gave her goosebumps.

The Lord of the Empire is involved in a conspiracy! Yes, by cracking such a high-profile case, you can make a career and rise very high - the noise will clearly reach even the Emperor!

What's more, this could all have been a provocation. Or an attempt by the rebels to take advantage of the Lord's resources and then blackmail him. For that matter, the attitude of the Lord - and of Lady Liora - was sharply negative.

Alex noticed her as well, they exchanged meaningful glances, and Liora nodded faintly. She glanced around the room and, finding Taer, whispered something to her attendant with her hand.

It's not going to end well!

Taer stared at Liora's escort, who was walking towards her with a brisk, springy stride. A dark-haired man of about thirty-five, with a pleasant, even handsome, face with sharp features and clear green eyes. He was dressed in a very simple light green hunting costume, reminiscent of the uniform for planetary operations.

"My mistress asks me to give this to your master," the attendant said as he handed Taer an envelope sealed with the blue wax seal bearing the Countess of Wistrile's monogram."

One of their enforcers, Taer accepted the envelope with as cold a smile as she could muster. Called the Countess 'mistress' and the lord 'master,' as if I were a servant. I would have killed him!

"You can go, I'll pass it on."

She waited until the attendant stepped away, tore the envelope open at the edge, then pushed the analyzer in, pressing it hard into the surface of the letter. A yellow light flickered on the handle.

"Well, at least I won't be poisoned," Taer grinned mentally as she opened the envelope and read the message quickly:

...I hope to meet you at the earliest opportunity. I look forward to it. Kisses, Liora...

There was nothing criminal in the letter, so Taer carefully folded it so that it would fit easily in the palm of her hand and headed toward the players.

"A letter for you, Your Grace," she whispered, coming up behind him and leaning over Alex while placing the folded letter in his palm. The Lord nodded at her and quickly flicked the message across his eyes, keeping it out of sight of the others playing. After he read it, he gave Liora a faint nod and continued with the game.

Having delivered the envelope, Taer returned to her beloved sofa and summoned the "Lance":

"Have you finished yet? I might need your help."

"Yes," Dudo muttered. "Found something interesting..."

"What do you find? OK, you can tell me all about it later. Now, grab an infobox, a linear jammer, and a couple of suppressors, and head for the game room."

"Where is it?"

"Take one of the Melatian servants with you as an escort - they are always gathering near the guest chambers, so you won't have to look for them."

About ten minutes later, Dudo appeared at the entrance to the games hall in the company of a short, dark-haired servant in full dress - a white livery with a scarlet Cassard branch at the heart and two cords at the shoulder, white and red with lace. The tunic he was to wear as a Lord's warder was not yet available to Dudo, and Taer was obviously the wrong size. He was clutching two enormous chevrette trunks, and was, to put it mildly, drawing attention to himself.

Taer made fearful eyes and gestured for him to leave everything in the corridor and walk towards her.

A little more in the same vein, and anyone who wasn't interested in who Lord Cassard is dating will become very interested.

"So," Taer began in a low voice as Dudo approached her. "First, take this and stick it in the infoblock, then we'll check," Taer said as she slipped the "lance" a thin gold card of "respected" Asmi Lertar.

"Second," she continued, waiting for Dudo to slip the card into his pocket, "Their Lordship wishes to meet with a lady, and our job is to ensure the security and privacy of that meeting. So now you grab the equipment and move to the lady's quarters. You tell them you are a member of Lord Cassard's retinue and would like to check the room. If they agree, fine, check everything there and put up suppressors. If not, then - and shadows with them! - Prepare a line jammer - we'll turn it on when the lord gets in."

"The walls are thick," Dudo disagreed. "And it looks like fibersteel in the core, and there are a lot of energy circuits around - there might not be enough power..."

"You seem to have taken amplifiers - plug them in. If one is not enough, connect more."

"I did," he nodded. "But with the amps, they'd knock out everything in there - maybe even the lights - and there might be a glitch to the neighboring rooms."

"Let it be. I don't think they'll really need the lights, and if there are any complaints from neighbors, we'll politely apologize. Any questions?" Taer jabbed a finger at Dudo's chest.

"Where is this lady's room?"

In addition to the fervent lines in the letter given by Lady Liora's escort, there was also a copy of a guest pamphlet that showed how to reach the rooms provided to Countess Wistrile. It was the contents of this pamphlet that Taer recounted to the "lance". After listening to the explanation, Dudo was about to leave, but she stopped him:

"Wait, you said you found something interesting."

"Yep," smirked the lance. "Marks from bugs.".

"What? And you didn't say anything! What kind of bugs, exactly?"

"The traces, not the bugs themselves - they used to be there permanently, and then someone took them off. And apparently recently."

"Maybe it's to make us relax. Have you checked everything in there?"

Dudo sighed heavily, raising his eyes to the ceiling:

"Look, what do you take me for? Of course, I checked after I found the footprints. Checked again - literally looked all over the place."

"OK, then the shadows are with them!"

The hosts must have had fun peeping, and before the guests from the other Houses arrived they took everything down so there wouldn't be a scandal...

"Go get the amplifiers, then go to the lady's rooms, and I'll come with the lord."

The lord played to the end of the round, which took another twenty minutes, laid out the loss, and quickly slipped out of the games room, leaving Kayrin to "finish the game". Accompanied by Taer, he walked quickly to the rendezvous with the anti-Imperialists.

"Alex, are you sure about this meeting?" Taer caught up with the lord, her face expressing clear doubt as to the wisdom of such an undertaking. "It could cause huge problems. (Huge, if the SS or Imperial Intelligence finds out, and for everyone from the ruling lord to me.) And the benefits are questionable."

"I'm not so sure." He snapped back, not slowing down. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"Well, we could..." Taer paused and sighed heavily. "I don't know. But I've got a bad feeling about this, and our lance found traces of surveillance devices in the room."

"You mean our rooms are being watched?"

"Not anymore. Used to be monitored, but they took it off recently. Shortly before we arrived. But that in itself makes me nervous. Maybe it's just ours..." she held Alex by the sleeve and whispered in his ear. "Maybe it's not in Lady Wistrelle's. And only the shadows know what she's going to talk about."

"I think I have this for just such an occasion..." Alex demonstrated the suppressor pendant and moved on.

"A suppressor is not a shortcut to ascension..." she grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't rely too much on suppressors. There are means to bypass them...," explained the 'specialist'.

"What's the point of having them, then? If they can be bypassed?"

"They help against most surveillance, but there are rumors..." Taer made an indefinite gesture with her hand. "That the Imperials have the means to bypass them."

"Let's hope such talented guys aren't interested in me."

Taer waved her hand and remained silent, though her heart was filled with all sorts of things, mostly foul language, about people who pry into things they shouldn't be prying into. And dragging others along with them.

Soon they arrived at the rooms allocated to Countess Wistrile. In front of the entrance, leaning absently against the wall, Dudo was waiting for them. Two large cases of equipment were huddled at his feet, while across the hall in a brown and blue livery (Must be Countess Wistrile's colors... Is she an Imperial noble?), leaning against the door with an equally absent look, was a gnarm bored.

Or not bored? Taer was unfamiliar with the race and could not claim that the gnarm's face expressed exactly boredom.

The Lance in Lord Cassard's Arm and the servant in Countess Wistrile's retinue was staring at the ceiling, watching the mural where two dragons - a white dragon and a blue one - wrestled to death.

How symbolic... grinned Taer.

As they approached, Dudo pulled away from the wall and, catching Taer's gaze, pointed to the door and winked at her, saying, It's all right.

Meanwhile, on seeing the lord, the gnarm pulled out his communicator and hissed something into the receiver - he must have warned those inside.

"Are you sure you want to go there alone? " Taer squinted incredulously at the gnarm.

Alex nodded silently and put a neutral smile on his face.

As Taer and Alex approached closer, the gnarm bowed awkwardly and opened the door, revealing to all interested glances the interior of Countess Wistrile's rooms and the Countess herself.

The room was filled with the colors of autumn: from the rich ochre upholstery of the small sofas with dark red cushions to the burnt-orange color of the carpets that covered the walls and, of course, the gold embroidery. The Countess was in a tight, bright red evening gown, clutching a wine glass in her left hand. Lady Liora's face wore rather bright and, from Taer's point of view, not very successful make-up

"Allesandro, I've been waiting!" Liora sighed languidly as she embraced the lord.

"We'll be waiting for you here, Your Lordship," Taer officially announced.

No matter how you paint a chicken, you won't get an eagle.

The false mistress - Liora - could not stand in Taer's eyes any comparison with the real mistress - Isalaya.

As the door closed behind the lord, Taer leaned against the wall beside Dudo, listening warily to the sounds coming from Countess Wistrile's rooms. Nothing suspicious had been heard so far.

"Has the linear jammer been set up?" she whispered, keeping her eyes on the closed door.

By the door, leaning against the jamb, the gnarm bored with the same unconcerned look.

"No," Dudo whispered back. "It's no use - there are five rooms, and the walls are thick. It's not clear where they'll be. I put the suppressors in there."

"Did they let you check the rooms?" Taer clarified.

"They did. They put one on me, but I was allowed to check. I did not find anything strange, but there was no time to check very carefully."

"Are you sure the suppressors are working? Maybe they've been turned off?"

Lance snorted and, taking a small infoblock from the pocket of his snow-white trousers, proudly showed it to Taer - a blizzard of interference shone on the display that was displayed.

"I have a narrow-focus scanner in my case," he explained. "It's a weak one... But it doesn't matter - if the interference disappears, it means the suppressor is off. I look at it from time to time..."

"Well done," praised Taer and stared at the door again.

There was a long wait for the meeting to end, and the lingering feeling that it was not going to end well was only getting worse.

"A suspicious countess..." Dudo said with a knowing look, snapping Taer out of her troubled thoughts with a loud whisper. "The two of them are so..." he impressed the utmost arrogance into his expression and turned his nose up at her. "And they're still trying to grasp the hilt of their swords with their right hands like the Carpathians. The other two were strange, not exactly fighters or servants. They look too sloppy. Maybe Lance and this "servant" gnarm. This is nonsense: a gnarm is a servant. He's got tattoo marks on his face. I know about that sort of thing - we used to have a lot of them in Naimo. Muzzle tattoos made by tash-pee cartel fighters."

"Won't he hear?" Taer pointed to the gnarm with her eyes.

"Nah, the hearing's not their strongest trait... Anyway, that's my point... Their Lordship shouldn't have gone in there alone, and then there's five of them and two of us. That's all I brought with me..." he pointed to the holster of the blaster on Taer's belt. "If I'd known I'd be part of Arm. I would have brought other toys."

"A hand-held stun gun wouldn't be a bad thing either..." suggested Taer.

"Nah, gnarms don't paralyze well - so put it on 'combat' right away," advised the Lance. "Better a shock grenade. Or better yet, two."

"What are you, stupid? What about the lord? He's inside too!"

"What's wrong with that? The sooner we get them out of action, the safer he'll be. So what if he's concussed, but he's alive, and his eyes..." He stopped, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling, then covered them and rubbed them lightly with his left hand. "Well, in a couple of days, if all is well, will recover... I have recovered."

"Screw you with ideas like that!" Taer said with a disgruntled look. "You could end up destroying a guarded object without any help from outside. If you need to get everyone out of action quickly, I'd take...."

Anyway, the twenty-two minutes it took for the lord to meet Lady Liora, the "security specialist" and the "lance" from Lord Cassard's Arm spent passionately discussing in loud whispers exactly how and with what they would break into Countess Wistrile's rooms. In the end, the discussion came down to the fact that the competent parties (Taer and Dudo) agreed: it would be optimal to have an eight-man team in assault suits and a group with emergency medical equipment nearby. But when the door to Lady Liora's chambers opened, Lord Cassard was greeted only by Taer and Dudo, armed with a blaster. One for two.

Lord Cassard was gloomy and thoughtful. Without saying anything, he waved his hand in the direction of the rooms allotted to them and walked briskly in that direction.

"Has something gone wrong?" Taer cautiously inquired as they moved a respectful distance away from Lady Liora's rooms.

"I didn't get everything I hoped for, but I'm not happy with what I have," he added, seeing the silent question in Taer's eyes. "I'll explain when we get there."

When they were alone, the lord tossed her the info stick he had removed from his pocket and flopped down on the sofa:

Take a look, and we'll discuss it later.

Taer caught the stick and, retrieving her Emerald from her belongings (the suitcases were still standing in the center of the room, as she had no time to attend to them and the servants of the House of Melato were forbidden to enter the rooms allocated to Lord Cassard), launched a view of the contents.

It was a visual recording - filmed from above, from the ceiling.

A small, darkened room, a round table, and six people at the table. The faces were hard to see, especially as the picture occasionally flickered and the sounds were distorted - the suppressor in the center of the table was clearly working, but judging by the fact that you could make out what was going on, the method of bypassing the suppressors was not a myth at all.

Or the recording device is shielded by a layer of fibersteel a couple of palms thick.

"Frankly, comrades, our partners are very disappointed in these blunders with Cassard," the face was so darkened that Taer could not make it out, and the voice was harsh with some rattling notes, indicating the age of the speaker.

Judging by the tone, the speaker was VERY unhappy:

"The other phases undertaken by our partners are progressing as planned, and Lord Cassard is still alive!" Here the speaker practically turned to shout. "The whole operation could be without cover and fail!"

"But, sir, he was just lucky the first time, and the second attempt was prepared in a terrible hurry; it won't happen again, I'm sure!" A dark-haired, bearded man in his forties, wearing a leather jacket with the emblem of the miners' guild, objected.

"I should very much hope so, Grom," the old man's words had a decidedly sarcastic tone to them. "With us already ten days behind, we have one last try. I really hope no one screws up this time. If we FAIL AGAIN, Cassard will be taken over by the Lord's men so we can concentrate on our main task..."

The recording was interrupted further on. Taer took the stick out of the infoblock and threw it back to Alex:

"I think it's staged," she grimaced. "And a rather inept one at that. For three hundred thousand denarii, they could have made an effort."

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Liora claims that within a Voigrom, she will have information about who exactly is behind the attempts on my life."

"Why didn't she tell you right away? Does she want more money?"

"I don't know. According to her, the cell that monitors one of the PVD leaders reports directly to the Centre over Liora's head. And they're running some kind of an operation of their own. That's why we get the materials secondarily. She's been told that the liaison who's supposed to hand over the evidence materials will contact her during the Voigrom. So it's someone from the guests, but so far, no one has contacted Liora. However, the Voigrom will still last for three days, so there is time..."

Taer said nothing, only looked at Alex questioningly.

They just want money and are willing to tell you anything to get it.

The lord smiled sadly in reply: "I understand your doubts, Taer. I have similar doubts as well. But you must agree the loss of three hundred thousand danarii is not fatal. But if this recording is true, it means they will try to kill me again soon, and they will try again and again. Because they really need my death to cover up some operation. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

Alex stood up and headed towards the bar.

"Your Lordship..." Taer held out with an accusing tone. "You could have told me to call a droid, or I could have done it myself."

"Come on, don't be silly. It's not hard for me." He brushed it off. "And I thought we'd agreed on "lordship." You want anything?"

Something to clear my mind would be nice.

"A tincture of Tarija and some ice would be nice."

"Tarij? What is it?"

"Such a square bottle..." Taer began, then, with a sigh, got up from her chair and headed for the bar as well.

"This is the Tarij." She poured the emerald liquid into her glass and threw ice in it.

"Hmm, smells good..." Alex assessed, sniffing. "What is it?"

"An extract of the root of a particular plant. It grows here in Voigrom, by the way. Usually used in cocktails, but it's also very good on its own and clears your mind perfectly. Will you try it?"

He looked at the glass with mild doubt, then waved his hand - "pour!"

"So, what are your thoughts? Who would need to kill me to - cover an operation?" Alex asked as they got comfortable in their chairs again.

She looked up and wondered... Then she sighed heavily and turned to Alex; there was nothing else to think of:

"I don't know. I'm not a politician. Maybe they want to use the rancor among relatives over inheritance? But what good would that do them?"

"I couldn't think of anything else either. Is there someone in my family so influential that it makes sense for them to be distracted by such an event?"

"The Rionale clan?"

"Kayrin?" Alex wondered.

"Not Kayrin, but the entire Ryonale clan. They are one of the most influential clans, they are quite powerful, and they have a strong 'Arm', her father is a member of the Privy Council from their domain."

"And who benefits from the Rionale family being distracted by the division of my inheritance?"

Taer silently spread her hands and offered:

"Why don't we ask an expert? Marquis Crébo Degrasto teaches in the Department of Geopolitics and Sectoral History after all."

Alex pointed a finger at Taer and winked:

"Great idea, Guardsman! What would I do without you? Let's go find the Marquis!"

You'd be gone to all the shadows. And anyway, appreciate me!

Marquis Degrasto could only be found after Taer had communicated with his servants - he was in one of the inner gardens, chatting passionately with a man who was not young but rather old. Apparently, a Tallana.

"О! Lord Cassard!" exclaimed the Marquis. "We were just talking about you! I present the Dean of the University of Tallana, the good Fayyor Takkar," he said. "And this, my colleague, is the lovely Mistress Taer Diltar, First Blade of the Arm of Lord Cassard."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," bowed Professor Takkar slightly.

"Likewise." Alex smiled, and Taer gave a polite nod. "We were just looking for you, Marquis, on a professional matter."

"Yes?" Crebo was genuinely surprised. "How interesting. What is it?"

"We had a theoretical argument on a historical topic and needed an expert opinion. Who do you think would have been most affected if I had been poisoned?"

"Well, that would be a nightmare, Lord Cassard!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Absolutely everyone could have been affected! It could come to war between the families within our house! So, until you marry or better until you have an heir don't you dare die!" He winked and jokingly wagged his finger at the lord.

"Are you sure that money, even a lot of it, can start something like this?" Alex asked incredulously.

"So it's not about money at all, Lord Cassard," the Marquis assured him. "It's the fact that all the lan-titles are free in your domain, and there are plenty of them."

Right - the land of lords! I'm such an idiot! I should have been better at lectures on recent history!

"Lan-titles?" the lord interjected.

"Well, yes, the lan-titles, the possession lands, that is, the lands that give the right to a name and..."

"Ah, there you are, and I'd lost you all," the Marquis Degrasto was interrupted by a Kayrin who appeared.

"Meet Lady Kayrin Baroness Rionale, Professor at the University of Tallana, the esteemed Fayyor Takkar."

Kayrin smiled charmingly: "I seem to have interrupted you Marquis, forgive me, and please continue..."

"Well, Kayrin, can you interrupt..." the Marquis began, but then he seemed curious and decided to return to the question. "Let me explain with an example. The lovely Kayrin, as you all know, is a baroness, as are her mother and father. Baroness, as I recall, you also have a younger brother and sister. What are their titles?"

"They have been elevated to the count's dignity," the baroness shrugged.

"And why?" asked Marquis Degrasto a leading question.

"It's obvious - our clan no longer had the free lan-titles of baronial dignity," Kayrin replied and looked at those around her with interest. "And what prompted this strange question?"

"I was simply trying to explain, by way of example, what would cause a hypothetical war between the Clans in the event of the equally hypothetical - heaven forbid! - Lord Cassard's death by poison," Marquis explained.

"Thank you, Marquis. It all makes sense even to me now," Alex smiled. "No longer daring to disturb your conversation..." with these words, the lord politely said goodbye to the professors, who immediately returned to their conversation.

"Alex, sweetie, is something wrong?" Kayrin asked excitedly as they stepped away from the engrossed conversation between the learned husbands.

"No, it's fine!" Alex assured her.

But it seemed that his gloomy mood, which had become even darker after his conversation with Marquis Degrasto, had not escaped Baroness Rionale. She held the lord's hand, paused, and, taking his palms in hers, looked at him with a look of dismay:

"You've been a bit gloomy lately, these strange questions about your death, the planetary generator in your castle. I'm starting to worry about you," she pressed his hand to her chest and asked softly. "What's wrong, Alex? Is someone threatening you?"

What a... @%$! Taer thought dumbfoundedly as she watched the scene. The way she pressed his hand! As if she'd spent two years taking acting lessons at Court. She could be in a soap opera right now!

"Let's just say, Kay..." Alex seemed a little taken aback by the Baroness' impetuousness. "I have some problems, but I think I can manage."

"Why don't you tell me more about it?" she suggested, pointing her eyes towards the guest rooms. "Perhaps I could be of some help. Or maybe not me, but my family. We're not exactly distant relatives, after all. Blood helps blood, fire helps fire," she added with a smile.

"Let's talk about it later, like tomorrow. This isn't the time or place for that kind of talk," Alex lowered his voice confidentially. "You're probably not going to be able to help me right now, anyway."

To Taer's surprise, Kayrin, who knew how to be more annoying than a dozen pearl wasps, didn't push. She smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders:

"I'll take you up on that - tomorrow is tomorrow, after the hunt."

She did not bring it up once for the rest of the evening, trying whenever she could to cheer the lord up and distract him from his sad thoughts. She did it so sincerely and sweetly that Taer had her doubts.

Wasn't she really worried about him? After all, family, and shared childhood memories

But the thought was so contrary to her entire experience with Kayrin that Taer preferred to see it as a subtle game.
* * *

RiP · Apr 19, 2023

Chapter 17

* * *
"Your Lordship!" A short, dark-skinned servant in white overalls bowed to the lord and looked up as he waited for him to pay attention. "We are approaching your position. Do you have any requests for a landing site?"

"No, as long as it's not in the lake." Alex smiled and leaned back against the railing of the platform.

The open circular platform glided as a thin, silvery disc over the purple-reddish sea of Voigrom's jungle. Below, emerald patches of clearing and small lakes, covered in a shimmering ripple of glare, flashed intermittently. The melodic pulsing hum of the platform's traction generators startled the scarlet creatures as their swarms rose in bloody clouds into the sky, leaving a melting scarlet trail behind the flying platform.

Baroness Rionale, dressed in a stylish hunting costume of light red leather adorned with large black crystal, finally broke the silence that reigned by this side:

"I love Voigrom! Especially this continent - it's so beautiful here," she fixed her disheveled wind-blown hair and gave Alex a charming smile.

"Yes, it's very beautiful!" He sincerely appreciated both the view and the smile. "But how to look for Oikers in such thickets, I have no idea."

"Come on, they're big, and when they go through the jungle, there's such a rattle..."

The platform sprang out into the open and hovered in a wide semi-circle on the ground. A part of the side went down into a wide gangway.

"Their Lordship Lord Cassard's number!" The usher proclaimed and bowed, making an inviting hand gesture towards the dais.

Taer unlocked the safety of her hunting rifle and, fixing the white shoulder pad with the scarlet griffin was the first to step onto the green ground. The thick layer of moss softly sprang to take her weight, and small puddles of brownish water appeared around her feet.

"It's a bit wet," Dudo looked suspiciously at the bump he had made under his boot.

The hunt began at noon station time, but it was still early morning in the hunting area of Voigrom. The foliage, illuminated by the dawn sun, glowed red, and the dense moss carpeting the ground was steaming with moisture. The fog clung to the ashy gray branches of the trees in whitish wisps and rose in a solid wall over the still surface of the small lakes.

Imagine what will happen if it starts to rain.

"Yes, indeed, it's a bit wet," the Lord got off last.

"Good luck, Alex!" Baroness Rionale shouted from the platform as it began to slowly take off. "I'll bet my Oiker will double..." her last words were drowned out by the melodious hum of the traction generators gaining power.

The silver disc of the platform tilted slightly, took to the right, and drifted off towards the sunrise, towards the rest of the numbers.

"Shall we look for the Oikers?" Taer glanced at the platform and made sure it was out of sight. "Or..." she patted her pocket meaningfully.

In her pocket was an info stick obtained from Lady Liora's attendant during the loading onto the platforms. And, as they call it, "burned the hands" - there was supposed to be a video on the stick with information about who exactly wanted to kill the lord. But watching the footage right there on the platform, surrounded by guests?

"I think we can..."

A loud low roar from somewhere above drowned out Alex's words. The coal-black machine, with its wide-spread, triangular stabilizer wings, looking like a dagger with a wide diamond-shaped handguard from below, flew over the treetops and disappeared, heading somewhere to the north.

"Prism-E," commented Dudo. "The Imperials are vigilant."

"I guess we can at least pretend we're looking for an Oiker." Alex repeated, tearing his gaze away from the fighter and gripping his hunting long-barreled rifle. "And, Dudo, you brought the infoblock with you, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"As I understand it, the Oikers are grazing at this time, eating roots in shallow water..."

Taer waved her hand toward the gleaming lake in the dawn's light and froze - the still water swelled up to form a small hill in the middle of the lake and, a moment later, exploded into a huge splashing fountain, spitting the air out of a small aerial vehicle.

Taer felt the 'accelerator' pick her up - the world froze and became slow and draughty. Streams of water glistened in the sun and flowed smoothly down the dirty grey sides of the aircar. Each drop became clear. The sights of a lightning-quick rifle slowly entered her field of vision. The vehicle, howling with the thrust generators and gleaming glare on the cockpit glazing, began to turn smoothly sideways.

The Taer ducked into the scope and aimed the red dot of the marker at the side door of the aircar that appeared in her field of vision. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dudo shouting something, very slowly - from her point of view - raising his weapon. In fact, it was almost instantaneous.

The side door of the aerocar slowly crept to the side and, at the same time, her long barrel shrieked, sending the first shot through the opening. A bright blue glowing ball of discharge flew into the opening and shattered against the mirrored morass of the shield. The door finally opened, revealing the dark interior of the aircar and what Taer feared most: the HGM launcher and the red glinting eye of the passive guidance channel.

Damn!

The launcher was under the shield, and the long rifles could not do any damage to it.

Maybe if I cover the lord with me, the combined power of the personal shields would be enough?

But her body, under the control of the installed skills, kept sending out discharge after discharge into the opening, probably hoping to dazzle the operator or interfere with the aiming device.

Although the aerocar was two hundred paces away, she saw the membrane of the first compartment in the launch container become covered with a network of fine cracks and burst under the pressure of the missile's sharp nose. The HGM pierced the cloud of shrapnel with a silver needle, the stabilizers flashed with a sharp glare in the sun, and the rocket very slowly began to move to a safe distance from the launcher on the soft launch engines.

The long rifle in her hands gave a long howl, and a swarm of discharges pulsed toward the missile, followed by a second one fired by Dudo.

The rocket, rotating slowly, drifted through the stream of gunfire until one of the blue lights touched the edge of the stabilizer, bursting into a bright flash. The silver hull needle folded in half and, engulfed in sparks and smoky flames began to fall.

There was movement in the interior of the aerocar. Metal gleamed faintly, gunfire pulsed rhythmically, and a string of purple flashes curved in a predatory arc. The trail of tracers, which stung the Taer in the leg and smashed into the mirrored glow of the flaring personal shield, drew a trail of bursts toward Dudo, knocking out fountains of earth and steam in its path.

Lance Dudo was still firing when one of the discharges struck him in the chest. The bright flash of the hit immediately disappeared into a burst of smoke and sparks from the instantly burnt form. Slightly shaken by the impact, Dudo began to fall slowly, gradually tumbling onto his side.

Taer's first impulse was to lunge at him, but the guidance system decided otherwise - seeing a second missile begin to emerge from the container as it tore the membrane, the guidance system hurled her body in the direction of the lord. The aerocar's heavy assault speed gun howled behind her, sending a whirlwind of discharges in its wake. Scarlet tracers whirred around her with angry wasps, bursting with a loud dry hiss and showering her with waves of heat. The shields erupted, enveloping them both in mirrored ripples, as Taer knocked the lord to the ground and collapsed from above, pushing him into a small hollow.

She had time to think that it would hardly help if the missile hit them directly when suddenly she heard a familiar low rustle that drowned out the howling and hissing of bursting discharges.

Around them, covering almost the entire clearing in a swirl of glittering firepower, the shield being formed spun.

The central funnel went somewhere upwards, gradually dissolving into the sky. A white-tailed missile struck the still-forming cone of the shield and disappeared, shattering into a mirror-like ripple.

The attackers' aerocar jerked, trying to gain altitude, but froze, enveloped in flashes of static, nailed by the glowing rod of the force grip that had struck it.

Nearby there was a deafening cracking sound that turned into a rumbling noise, a tight wave of air hitting the ground, tearing down leaves and pressing tree branches to the ground, and knocking a white haze of water drizzle from the ubiquitous moss.

A landing null-boat appeared near the ground, dropping its visual camouflage and hovering between the aerocar and the shield, roaring with its traction generators. A scarlet griffin stood on its black side, and beneath it shone the golden eye of the search branch, the emblem of House Fyron's Intelligence.

The landing ramp touched the ground, and the forward eight in heavy assault suits immediately rumbled across it. Leaving deep trails that quickly filled with water, the paratroopers ran under the shield that opened in front of them. Behind the stormtroopers came four men in light blast suits carrying bulky white overalls and airbags. Medics.

The "guidance" "released" her.

She rolled off the lord and sprang to her feet, wanting to punch the paratrooper with the field biomonitor as hard as she could. The only thing that stopped her was that he was wearing armor.

Those bastards knew about the attack beforehand and didn't warn us! They used us as bait! They endangered the lord's life! They put Dudo under fire!

Taer gritted her teeth as the blue glow of the medscanner slid across her eyes.

"The second is normal - a slight sensory overload!" A muffled sound came from beneath the visor of the spacesuit.

"The first one is fine - minor bruises!" The second paratrooper medic, who was checking on Alex, who was spitting up mud, responded.

The communicator of the nearest paratrooper clicked, accepting the call, and Taer heard what she least wanted to hear.

"The third one is red, zero response! Urgent resuscitation!"

One could tell that the Third was not normal without a biomonitor. When Dudo was turned over on his back, the remains of his clothes were still smoldering, there was a huge smoking wound in the center of his chest, covered in a black crust, and the skin on his face and neck were burned and flappy.

There was popping and hissing - Dudo was flooded with cooling foam, a white triangle of the applicator was applied to his neck, a puncture was pressed - and bright scarlet blood gushed from the receiver...

"What the...!" started shouting at the paratrooper Taer...

Suddenly a scarlet beam of ignitor flashed across the attackers' aerocar, frozen in a storm of static. The machine's shield flashed white and immediately burst from the overload. The beam burned through the hull, and purple tongues of faint, barely visible flame erupted from the open side door. There was a rumbling noise inside, and black smoke billowed out.

The Imperial Prism appeared from behind the treetops, and with a dry rustling crackle, it flew overhead before disappearing from view again.

"Damn," the nearest paratrooper said from behind his visor.

"...demons, you waited so long with the shield if you knew about the attack!" Taer finished her tirade in an angry whisper, rather than a scream, as they hoisted her, just as they had the Lord, into the null-bot.

"Mistress Guards Sain Lieutenant! The shield was given in three and a half seconds! It was technically impossible to give it any faster!" The paratrooper who was carrying it replied as the ramp went up behind them.

Taer thought ten or fifteen seconds had passed - she wanted to yell to stop being bullshitted but remembered that she was under 'guidance' and 'acceleration'. So she shut up.

The null-bot howled with its generators, the ground on the small overview monitor dropped somewhere down, and only a column of black smoke rising above the downed aircar show a line at the location of the attack.

In the narrow landing compartment, Taer found herself sandwiched between guardsmen in assault suits.

In the passage between them, in the pale light of the decontamination lights, covered with white triangles of applicators, covered with foam and blood, lay Dudo. Due to his burned brow and wide-open eyes without lashes, he seemed to be very surprised about something.

Damn it, why did I only take two shields! Mentally howled Taer as he watched the doctors methodically cut open his clothes and apply applicators to his arteries.

Inaudible in the hum of the generators, the puncher clicked, and blood spurted from the intake opening, a bag of blood substitute was inserted into the intake, and it began to shrink with a loud hiss, squeezing out its contents. The dark red blood mixed with the bright blue blood substitute and flowed through the stretcher onto the floor, where a small dark purple puddle had already formed.

On the opposite side, also sandwiched between the paratroopers, sat the lord - crumpled, muddy with blood, and dazed.

"What's the matter with him?" He asked, muffled, nodding at Dudo.

"Very severe injury, Your Lordship, fifth-degree penetrating burns and barotrauma. The left lung is badly damaged, four of his ribs are burned, and his heart is damaged," one of the medics answered without turning around. "He was wearing a blaster-foam waistcoat that saved him from a penetrating burn and severed his spinal cord. But now the melted remnants of the waistcoat and clothing are obstructing access to the damaged organs and preventing cooling."

Saying this, the medic never stopped deftly wielding the vibroscalpel, crunching into the gummed crust on Dudo's chest.

Taer glanced at the stretcher's biomonitor - the automated system had detected a cardiac arrest forty seconds ago. She looked away from the screen to avoid seeing those numbers.

Damn, this sucks!

Another applicator slid into place, the puncher clicked, and a stream of blood splashed the lord and the guardsmen sitting beside him. Lord wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked into the eyes of the Taer sitting opposite:

"Let's find out who sent them..."

She only nodded grimly in response.

* * *

Alex, absent-mindedly chattering wine in his glass, gazed longingly at the plate where a cephalopod called "arbuds under black salt, with a side dish of sweet Tallan turnips and amber caviar" was spread out picturesquely.

For some reason, he craved Navy macaroni and ice-cold Coke. A hot dog or something.

The ship's cook must have decided to show his best.

Alex, wrinkling painfully, leaned back in his chair. The ribs on his right side ached as if he'd been hit by a truck rather than a dainty girl.

If it hadn't been for the protective field, I'd have been guaranteed a couple of cracks or even a broken rib.

"Shall we go straight to dessert?" Flag Captain Dimo Gradam politely suggested, seeing the longing on Lord Cassard's face.

Alex glanced at Taer and, noticing the hungry glint in her eyes at the word 'dessert', nodded to the captain:

"Yes, I suppose that would be just great!"

The captain pressed the communicator button and, after asking for dessert, continued to smile at his guests. A little strained, though.

Considering how we yelled at him in two voices, the man has nerves of iron and an angelic temperament!

A polite conversation did not go smoothly - Alex and Taer were not inclined to discuss the weather after the assassination attempt and asked mostly about when they would finally be told "what is going on here" and what about Dudo. And they were asking in very angry tones.

The captain sympathetically shook his hands and said that, of course, he understood and shared their emotions but that he knew absolutely nothing. The planetary operation was handled by Intelligence. He and his ship were here solely to provide security from the "space" side, so to speak. And offered to wait for bearing Captain Sarvola, who was overseeing the operation on the intelligence side of House Fyron. But Lord Cassard and his guardsman were a little on edge after the incident and did not listen to the Captain's 'voice of reason', mostly demanding something... and clearly unfulfillable...

A man of steel. I couldn't do that.

Alex stared at the captain, a tall, trim, and gaunt man in his forties or forties-five with a hard face and the same hard light gray eyes. He wore the dark scarlet uniform of the House Fyron Guards, which added another "+10" to the overall sternness.

The captain, on the other hand, did not give the impression of being "dry" and tried his best to be courteous and hospitable.

Now Alex - washed, soothed, and changed into a clean blue jumpsuit with a "Lord Cassard" patch on it ("when did that happen, I wonder!") - understood the moral cost of dealing with two not quite adequate people, one of whom was also a lord. A lord of very scandalous reputation.

He could have told us he had business to attend to and dumped us on some deputy. Especially since he's the one who's been handed the scouts, and the navy's got nothing to do with it!

But Flag-Captain Gradam kept up the good work keeping a close eye on the guests and even offering them a tour of his ship, which they declined. Which Alex now regretted a little.

"Does Your Lordship prefer teymar or tea?" There was a mechanical, rattling voice near his ear that snapped "his lordship" out of his reverie.

"Аh? Better tea," Alex allowed the droid, who was holding a tray of cups and teapots.

The other two droids were at this moment displaying saucers with some cakes and some very appetizing-looking buns decorated with pink foam.

"I apologize for the humble table and the lack of proper servants. But I think you understand that this is a warship." The flag captain sighed sadly and, for argument's sake, circled his arm around the officers' quarters they were in.

The decorations were indeed very... "humble".

The walls of the room were black marble with light blue streaks and wrought-gold vines, and it was spacious and perfectly circular. The vines were woven around the walls, starting at the amber-tiled floor and stretching up to the dark blue ceiling, on which a mural glowed softly from within - a fleet of spacecraft frozen against the blue disk of some planet.

The whole furnishing consisted of a massive round table carved from a solid piece of dark green stone and twisted silver chairs surrounding it, fixed on a single rotating support.

"Not at all, Captain!" Alex smiled. "Everything is just fine. It's just a pity that the occasion that allowed us to enjoy your hospitality is sad," the smile faded.

The captain nodded sympathetically and went on to say some platitudes appropriate to the occasion. Alex nodded absently, nodding in agreement as he watched a droid, resembling a small pole on wheels with a single long arm and a fixed stand of cups and teapots, pour tea for him.

The locals treated droids like furniture, paying no more attention to them than, say, chairs. But from personal "interaction" and questioning of Taer, Alex had concluded that most droids could safely be called fully sentient.

A sensible stool is another matter entirely, Alex watched as the droid, whirring softly, placed a cup of tea in front of him and poured it perfectly to a golden border. A stool like that needs an eye on it.

Alex reached for the cup, but Taer, who was sitting next to him, was sooner. She took his cup, slipped the tip of an analyzer that looked like a fountain pen into the tea, and after waiting for the green light to turn on, she returned the stolen item to Alex.

Alex, sighing heavily, took the returned cup, took a sip, and with a strained smile, put the cup back on the table - the tea tasted like brewed hay.

The next few minutes passed in complete silence. Taër was absorbing cake after cake with a sort of absent-mindedness, not even seeming to taste it. Alex stared thoughtfully at the drawing on the ceiling, occasionally taking small sips of tea.

The captain remained diplomatically silent.

Finally, the door to the wardroom hissed open, revealing a young man, about thirty at the most, with blond hair, large brown eyes, and a wide, slightly upturned nose. And with an almost square chin. A black shoulder pad with a gold eye, worn over a dark scarlet Guard uniform, accentuated the width of his shoulders. All in all, the Peleng Captain Sarvola was far from the image of a scout as Alex had imagined him to be, but more reminiscent of a boxer with a track record of... let's say, somewhere in the middleweight range.

Seeing the looks on his face he raised his hands in a conciliatory manner:

"I apologize, Lord Cassard, Mistress Saine Lieutenant, for keeping you in the dark for so long. Unfortunately, it's taken me a while to get to the bottom of this. But now I am ready to answer all your questions," he added as he sat down at the table.

"What's with Dudo?" Taer blurted out before Alex could open his mouth.

"Honourable Guwar, as you already know, has suffered a very serious injury. Fortunately, thanks to the successful action of the field doctors and the timely treatment, his life is currently out of danger."

Hearing this, Alex let out a sigh of relief.

Everything was happening before his eyes, literally at arm's length. The red face with white flakes of sloughing skin, eyes wide open and empty, a black, melted stain on chest, blood, and the smell of burning everywhere.

And then, back on the ship, Alex felt nauseous as he washed someone else's blood off him. He thought he could smell it even there. He'd seen dead people before, and a corpse was not a sight that would shake his peace of mind much, even in this form: fried with a blaster, 'seen worse'. But here it was different - the man had died because he was trying to protect him, and the thought evoked a heavy, oppressive sense of guilt and 'duty' in the back of his mind.

If it wasn't for the captains with their grim faces, I'd be jumping and shouting for joy, thought Alex, who had never felt so relieved in his life.

"He has been taken to the hospital ship Mareide of the Bentar fleet and placed in the intensive care unit," the peleng captain continued. "The doctors assess his current condition as moderate."

Sarvola fell silent, opened the leather folder he had with him, and pulled out an info stick:

"And in anticipation of your next question, here..." he held out the rod to Taer. "Here are the contact details of his attending physician."

"Why weren't we warned?" Taer snatched up the outstretched stick.

"Mistress Diltar, I can assure you we knew nothing...," Sarvola began.

"Don't turn my ears back on me. I'm not a skurf!" The "security specialist" interrupted, getting hotter and hotter. "You want medals and titles? Show up as heroes and save the day?"

"Sain Lieutenant Diltar, I assure you, we had nothing but suspicions," Peleng Captain Sarvala stressed at the rank of Taer. "But we have tried to give Lord Cassard maximum protection."

"We almost got fried in there!" she almost shouted. "All because someone thought they were in control, and by their criminal inaction they endangered the life of a Lord of the Great House! That, by the way, qualifies as a crime against the foundations of the Empire and the Emperor himself. I want to know whose idea it was to use us as bait! Otherwise, I will see to it that your criminal negligence reaches the Imperial Tribunal, and then immunity will save you... So do not even think of lying to me... Peleng Captain!"

In the last word Taer managed to put such a range of feelings that temporarily the rank of "peleng-captain" became equivalent to at least a three-floor profanity construction.

Well... communication was clearly not working. Alex looked at the purple-faced peleng-captain and the same Taer. Something had to be done.

"Saine Lieutenant!" Sarvala tried to equal the volume with Taer. "You are essentially calling me a liar, and as an officer, I will not tolerate..."

"I'll...," Taer was already showing the peleng-captain a clenched fist.

Alex, seeing that this was heading for a trivial brawl (in which he thought Sarvola's chances were better) or even a duel, which would not be desirable at all, sighed heavily and drained his cup of leftover tea in one gulp. He gave Flag-captain Graydam an apologetic look, held the cup high and slammed it to the floor.

The porcelain-looking cup, black with a fine red pattern and fancy handle, had accomplished its task by crashing to the floor with a loud clang, shattering into small pieces.

After this loud non-verbal argument, there was silence in the wardroom.

"After all this turmoil, I've become a bit clumsy," Alex repented to the officers who turned to him in sync. "I apologize for interrupting the discussion, but my Blade and I will be leaving you briefly and will be back in just a few minutes."

He took Taer, who was sitting next to him, under his arm and dragged her towards the exit.

"What's wrong?" Taer fumed as soon as the door closed behind them. "Can't you see that we've been used by these freaks? They're trying on their medals now. Saved the Lord and his retinue! It was a miracle we survived! We hit the first missile. If it had, those "saviors" would still be looking for ashes to identify us."

Alex interrupted her, pointing his eyes at the figure in the dark blue jumpsuit approaching down the corridor, and pressed a finger to his lips. Taer remained silent as the crewman walked past them in surprise and was about to start her denunciation again, but she didn't have time.

"You know, Taer, I totally agree with you!" Alex was momentarily ahead of the "specialist", who had already opened her mouth. "I called you here for a different reason."

Taer closed her mouth and looked questioningly at Alex.

"I have two very important questions that I don't want to discuss in front of outsiders." He leaned against the warm, slightly rough wall of the corridor. "First, what about the info stick you were given? Is it in one piece?"

"Yes," she patted the side pocket of the same blue jumpsuit with the 'Saine Lieutenant Diltar' patch on it. "It looked intact, but there was no way to check."

"That's great! Second question... can you go back in time?"

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that after you shout at this captain, information he is willing to share with us won't make it any more true. And it won't get any truer, either."

"Don't you understand?" Taer burst out angry. "The frigate Artela," she slammed her palm against the wall. "A House Fyron battleship! And we're in Bentar space! She's been brought in ahead of time, negotiated passage with the Bentars! All this for suspicion? This is nonsense! They brazenly lie to us!"

"And if you yell, will they tell the truth?" Alex squinted. "If you're going to poison them with an imperial tribunal, don't threaten to do so. At first, you have to find out what it will gain you besides moral satisfaction."

Taer opened her mouth to say something harsh but then changed her mind and waved her hand with a heavy sigh.

"So, let's go and listen quietly to what this guy has to say, and then we'll think about what to do and whether he lied to us or not. All right?" Alex looked into Taer's eyes.

"So, let's go and listen quietly to what this guy has to say, and then we'll think about what to do and whether he lied to us or not. All right?" Alex looked into Taer's eyes.

The captains in the wardroom were discussing something, but they all simultaneously fell silent at the appearance of Lord Cassard and his Blade. By the look on their faces, they seemed to be the subject of the discussion. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the quiet whirring of the droid as it finished picking up the shards of the cup from the floor.

"Sorry again for interrupting your story," Alex sat back in his seat. "Please, Captain Sarvolla, continue."

"So..." Sarvola coughed into his fist. "After analyzing the previous attempt on Your Lordship's life, the Intelligence Analysis Division suggested the possibility of a second attack. It was then assumed, on learning that you would be participating in a Voigrom, that this was the best place to conduct another attack. Intelligence had no other evidence to support that theory," the captain said emphatically. "Otherwise, we would certainly have warned Your Lordship."

Taer had already gathered air to say what she thought of this version but held back, limiting herself to a very expressive grimace.

Peleng Captain, distinctly ignoring the expression on Taer's face, continued, occasionally glancing at the infoblock screen lying on the table in front of him:

"Suspecting a possible attack on Your Lordship's yacht, we contacted the House Bentar fleet and asked them for an escort to House Melato station. We also asked them for permission to use the frigate Artela in their space, which has been assigned the role of controlling the near sphere of hyperspace. We also negotiated with our partners from House Bentar the possibility of using a reinforcement team, which was to be used if a situation requiring forceful intervention arose on the planet or station." Sarvola broke away from the screen and looked at Alex. "Fortunately, Your Lordship, House Bentar had responded in agreement, aided especially by the ruling lady's position. Lady Valerie's help was invaluable in negotiating with the House Bentar fleet."

"I hope I can thank her properly," Alex said with a slightly strained smile.

"The security team was divided into two sub-groups - an operational and a reinforced one. The operative was stationed on the station as an entourage of Count Decero, who is also the Sain Lieutenant of House Fyron's Intelligence service. The reinforced, equipped with assault suits and heavy weapons - waited in space aboard the null-bot, ready to intervene at any moment...

"Captain, House Melato didn't object to the presence of a frigate and our House nullbot near his station?" It was an obvious misunderstanding from Alex's point of view. "After all, I understand we have a bit of a strained relationship."

"The Nulbot was in Null Mode..." Sarvola began to explain, clearly trying to find simpler words. "It was hard to detect in that mode, all the more so because it was camouflaged by the interference of House Bentar's hospital ship. And as for the frigate, I think the Flag Captain can explain it to you." He nodded toward the Greydam.

"The frigate was positioned a great distance deep in the system, Your Lordship," the flag captain explained. "Ready to make a short hop to the station on signal, for which purpose our drive beacon was located on the Bentar ship, and the spectrum used by such beacons was allocated to us."

"I see," Alex understood almost nothing except that the null-bot was a kind of local stealth. "What, in fact, about the assassination attempt itself?"

Captain Sarvola sighed sadly and lowered his eyes to the infoblock screen again:

"At 4:53 local time, a small flying reconnaissance drone detected the appearance of an aerocar-type vehicle in threatening proximity to Your Lordship and raised the alarm. Upon receiving the alarm, the hospital ship Mareide began to put up a shield and the force support team began to move out to provide protection and fire support."

"The primary shield outline was formed within three and a half seconds of receiving the signal. At that time, the attackers' aircar had time to fire two heavy guided missiles and a heavy assault blaster. In the course of the firing, the respected Dudo Guwar of your lordship's entourage was seriously injured. The warheads of both missiles failed to fire, the first because the missile was destroyed by fire from the ground, the second because it made contact with the surface of the shield before the safety fuse was disengaged by the safe distance. Six seconds after receiving the alert, the Artela frigate completed a short jump and blocked the attackers' aircar with a power grab."

"At the tenth second, the null-boat of the force support group landed near Your Lordship, and the landed guardsmen immediately proceeded to evacuate Your Lordship and provide medical assistance to the injured. At the fourteenth second, the attackers' aerocar was fired upon from heavy igniters by a Prism-E type fighter of the Imperial Security Forces. Since the fighter's intentions were unclear, Lieutenant Arali Teigro decided to speed up the evacuation...

"Can you tell me more about the imperial fighter?" Alex interrupted the captain. "As I understood, once the shield was installed, the attackers were no longer a threat and could be captured. Right?"

"Right, Your Lordship. That was the original plan, but unfortunately, there were no survivors in the aerocar after the Imperial fighter attack. Regarding the attack itself," Sarwalla frowned. "Unfortunately, I can't give you any more information than the report the SS sent me," the Peleng Captain drew two more info blocks from his infoblock folder and handed them to the Taer. "Briefly, the Imperial pilot detected the intruder and detected the rocket. He said he didn't use his weapon because of the danger to the people on the ground but chose to approach and engage the target with his onboard ignitor fire. Which he did."

"During the attack, he also detected a power group nullbot and, assuming they were also intruders, went for a second run. Fortunately, the pilot also saw the emblem of our House on board the nullbot and started requesting instructions from his superiors, so the nullbot was able to leave the danger zone in time. We received this information in the form of a report from the SS. We were not allowed to speak to the pilot in person. Her Lordship Ergo-Captain Durlurl has been notified about the incident, and negotiations with the Imperial Security Sector Directorate are ongoing.

"Sadly," Alex sighed ("how fortunate that Imperial had made a move, all ends up in the water!"). "So you couldn't get any information on the attackers?"

"There's something I've been able to find out. But, unfortunately, not much. Three of the six attackers have been identified as Bentar, two of whom were educated at the University of Tallana, and there is no further information, but I think we will be able to find out more shortly. Analysis of the missile wreckage has revealed the model of the HGM. "Dagger-2U" manufactured by Zonn-Merr with a reinforced warhead - this model was purchased in our sector only by the Guards of House Bentar. Peltar's Azure twin-skinned aerocar. Presumably, the attackers were camouflaged in an artificial underwater shelter or a natural cave in a lake. When the transport from Bentar with special underwater equipment arrives, we will be able to say more...

Sarvola closed the infoblock folder and pushed it away from him:

"That's all I can tell you at the moment, Lord Cassard."

"You mean I've been attacked by Bentarans...?" Alex wondered. "What did they have against me?"

"I urge you not to jump to conclusions, Your Lordship," Sarvola said.

About my far-reaching political conclusions, he was specifically instructed, Alex realized.

"There is no certainty that Bentar is behind the attack," the captain assured him. "After all, the Bentars has been a great help to us in keeping you safe. But we can't deny that there might be some group within House Bentar who have a vested interest in your death, either."

It's clear that the case is unclear.

Alex rose from the table:

"Well, thank you very much for the information and your timely appearance - I am incredibly grateful to you, Peleng Captain Sarvola, for your foresight and to you, Flag Captain Gradam, for your hospitality and assistance," he shook hands with the approaching officers.

Taer stood up from the table without a word, but she might as well have said nothing, for her expression was so full of thoughts about the organizers of this operation. The thoughts were, by all accounts, profane.

"Lord Cassard? Perhaps you could come and stay with me. You'll be safer on the frigate." Flag Captain Gradam, who had been aware of Alex's intention to move to his yacht immediately after his conversation with the Intelligence representative, suggested.

"I thank you for the offer, but Baroness Rionale and Marquis Degrasto, with whom I have been traveling, are due to arrive on the boat soon. I think they're worried enough as it is. And to stay with you all this time is to give rise to unnecessary doubts." Alex, with regret in his voice, as if to emphasize that he would certainly love to, but...

"Perhaps you would agree to take a few of our men with you?" Sarvola interjected. "To enhance your security."

On the one hand, some extra barrels have been shown to be quite useful, but on the other...

And on the other hand, Alex never doubted for a second that this heightened security would be just as much of a snitch to Countess Durlurl.

And I still have the footage sent by the rebels to watch...

"Thank you, but no. I think the fact that my yacht will be escorted by a frigate is more than enough. On the boat itself, my Arm, in which I am more than confident, will be able to ensure my safety.

"As Your Lordship wills..."

Accompanied by the captains, they reached the flight module (No, Your Lordship, the hangars are where the machines are stored, this is the flight module), where the curious public, Lord Cassard, was shown the thrilling spectacle of the opening of the receiving port directly into space.

And I know that the protective fields... Alex looked out at the green continent, overcast in a haze of clouds - the frigate was in low orbit, and the huge airlock door, which had gone somewhere down, offered a spectacular view of the planet. Still, it felt a little uncomfortable.

The view was not to be admired for long. With a booming roar, the scarlet wall of Istal's starboard side emerged from somewhere below and hid the planet behind it.

The docking began. The low hum of the engines blended in with the ship's noises, gradually intensifying as the ship, which was not much smaller than the frigate, drew nearer. The transparent tube of the intake port, which swung out with a low hiss, encircled the opening of the airlock door, beyond which the light oak panels and the scarlet carpets of the Istal interior were already visible.

Exactly midway down the intake port tube, Alex and Taer stopped. The walls of the boards loomed up against the blackness of space, the scarlet hull of the Istal behind, and the white of the frigate in front. The white surface of the hull, instantly covered in frost, smelled cold, so the farewell to the captains was brief.

"Strange man," Alex shuddered as the airlock door closed behind them.

"Just trying to make a quick career, 'saviour'!" Taer snorted.

"I mean the Flag Captain," Alex gestured for the boat captain to leave. "According to you, people like him either hate me or despise me."

"Maybe he was hoping to make a good impression." Taer shrugged. "So that you could put in a good word for him with the Council of Privy. Or one of your father's admirers. I don't know."

"Where are you going?" Alex tried to catch Taer by the elbow as she turned to the side, but to no avail.

"Change," she pointedly pulled back the high collar of her overalls with her finger.

"That's for later, but for now, march with me to the bedroom."

"What for?" Taer was taken aback.

"What do you normally do in the bedroom... I'll get you into bed... Right! Easy, easy, easy! That was a joke!" Alex hastily backed away when he saw the change in Taer's face. "We'll watch the info-stick before Kayrin and Marquis come running in..."
* * *

RiP · Apr 23, 2023

Chapter 18

* * *
The golden threads of the tablecloth stretched as far as the eye could see. The scarlet threads of embroidery flowed across it, now in thin, curving branches, now in dragon-like curves. Small lakes of light, honey-colored tea froze motionless in a haze, smooth with the porcelain shores of the saucers.

Above this pastoral scene towered mountains of cakes, topped with snowy caps of icing sugar and glittering peaks of bottles. In the gaps in the confectionery landscape, somewhere behind, the silhouettes of servants glided in vague white shadows. With quiet tinkling and faintly audible chatter, they set out, corrected, and checked.

The view, however, was very poor - it was literally being recorded from the table. So the cups, teapots, and cakes blocked a large part of the view. Alex was about to rewind that part and go straight to the interesting part when part of a perfectly white sleeve of cloth, similar to gauze, appeared in the frame, and a swarthy palm placed a pyramid of a suppressor on the table very close to the recording device.

The control light at the top of the pyramid glowed dimly yellow, streaks and rhythmic waves of distortion went across the screen, and the sounds became quieter and more metallic and scratchy, but the camera continued to work, and, in principle, everything was visible and audible.

"I wonder if that's how someone's recording us, too." Alex glanced at the suppressor pyramid next to him, which also had a yellow control light on it. "What's the use of them, then?"

"It's certainly the best thing to do," Taer frowned, taking the passage about the suppressors as a rebuke to herself.

Perfectionist! Alex sighed, watching the gloomy face of his 'personal security specialist', And a resentful perfectionist.

He leaned towards the screen again. This movement was echoed with a painful wave in his bruised ribs.

But brave and with a frenzied reaction.

Meanwhile, there was movement on the monitor again. Someone, judging by the build, a man appeared on the opposite side of the table opposite the recorder. He was dressed in something between a kimono and a gown of a delicate cream color. This something was adorned with massive dark stones around the collarbone. The man sat down at the table, and his face became visible, broad with a strong chin, a predatory nose with a slight hook, rather large lips, and brown, almost black, eyes.

"I think it's the same guy who met us at the station." Alex tried to remember the name, but the only thing he could remember was the 'wrong' handshake.

"Lord Velaske," Taer prompted.

Next to him sat a grey-haired man with a small "academic" beard and lively, slanted eyes that stood out in his wrinkled face.

"The professor the Marquis Degrasto was talking to!" Alex was surprised and raised his eyes to the ceiling and tried to remember his name as well. "I think. Takkar, and the name was something complicated... Fayur, or something..."

"Fayor," the "specialist" corrected without taking her eyes off the monitor.

In the meantime, a third person joined the crowd. Judging by the hand that flashed in the frame, it was probably a woman. And a young one at that. But that was all I could see - she sat behind the camera.

"I'm glad you were able to find an opportunity for this meeting!" Lord Velaske smiled, pressing his left hand to his chest. "I hope that we will have time to discuss what is happening and make any necessary adjustments," he took the saucer of tea in his hands and took a small sip.

"I am primarily concerned about Lord Cassard," he looked expressively at the professor. "Frankly, we didn't think it would be so difficult for you, given your capabilities. My colleagues and I have already had to improvise a lot."

"Inevitable accidents in such circumstances," remarked Professor Takkar philosophically. "I'm sure it will be a success tomorrow. The group is already in position, and the HGM is not a weapon that leaves any alternative for the outcome of this attack."

"I would like to hope so, Professor," a distorted, interfering female voice came from somewhere outside the camera's field of vision. "The inability of your people to cope with such a simple case is the main reason why my deadline is being disrupted in the first place!"

"I think it will go well this time," Lord Velaske hastened to put an end to the conflict. "And even if, by some improbable coincidence, Lord Cassard were to survive, the matter would be handled by the experts I've already summoned. And the professor's men can concentrate on their main task on Tallana."

"It's taking too long as it is," objected the lord's unseen interlocutor. "I can't wait for your 'specialist' to get to Cassard as well. The ships..."

What kind of ships were meant remained unknown. The picture froze - the recording came to an end.

"And why so much attention to me alone?" Alex sighed heavily as he watched the screen that hung in the air slowly fade away, scattering golden sparks.

Taer remained silent, ignoring the clearly rhetorical question. She sat absentmindedly with her head slightly tilted, clearly in contemplation and mechanically twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Not wanting to disturb the thought process of his 'security specialist', who was, in any case, more knowledgeable, Alex took advantage of the pause to gather his thoughts:

First, the "specialists" to whom the honorable challenge to "whack Lord Cassard in the shortest possible time" had been passed on. The thought of another assassination attempt sent an unpleasant chill down his chest. He had always thought he had no fear of death at all, but the determined consistency of these guys was beginning to act depressing, to say the least.

Second, what was it about me that displeased them so much? Third, who is Lady "X" and what interests do they have in common - the Lord of House Melato, the Professor of the University of Tallana, and the mysterious stranger? Fourthly, can't we just turn these woeful conspirators into the local police? Or the Security Service or whatever.

"It's pointless, even dangerous, to go to the Security Service with this recording," Taer's voice, which came out of her stupor, sounded like a commentary on his thoughts. "We can't prove the authenticity of this recording, and investigating its origin by the SS or Imperial Intelligence could create complications of such magnitude that it would be better not to even begin."

"Well, let's just say." Alex looked at Taer with interest. "What are your suggestions then?"

"Contact Countess Durlurl as soon as we get to the secure terminal and show her this recording," she stated flatly. "They're clearly plotting something against our entire House, and your murder is just a cover-up. Intelligence must be aware of that."

"I don't mind intelligence knowing about the threat to the House. But as soon as Daim Esta sees the video, she'll claw its source out of me and then eat them alive with their guts. I wouldn't want Lord Cassard's gratitude for providing vital information to be expressed in this form."

And I certainly didn't want to give Countess Durlurl any more leverage on myself. This time the very real fact of my association with the anti-imperialists

Taer thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers in triumph:

"I can tell her that the bag with the stick was amongst the mail. Or it was just planted. And you don't have to explain anything then. Let them think for themselves. You can even say if you like, that you don't know anything about it yet."

"And you really think Daim Esta would believe that?" Alex asked with an extremely skeptical expression on his face.

"What is there for her to do?" Taer shrugged her shoulders innocently. "She has no other sources of information. And I'm not going to tell her anything."

Except that some of the guardsmen react to Countess Durlurl like a rabbit to a boa constrictor.

"And then," the specialist pushed, "In any case, something has to be done about Lord Velaske and the Professor..."

For example, to kill so they don't try to kill peaceful lords

"... and House Fyron's intelligence has the means to deal with such a problem," Taer continued. "After all, it is their direct task! We, on the other hand, can't do anything about it."

Well, according to Isalaya, they managed to order the Ruling Lord with the Head of Intelligence. With a professor and just a lord, with four million danarii in cash, the matter would probably be resolved even faster, mentally objected Alex, but did not say anything aloud because deep in his heart, and understood that so, out of the blue, without connections and other things, to take and "order" someone - would be more expensive. But I don't want to go and bow down to that bitch...

"All right," he sighed heavily. "You get in touch with Countess Durlurl, tell her you were planted with the record, and you contact her immediately without even telling me so as not to worry me unnecessarily."

"That's good!" Taer got up from the sofa. "I can go and change now, can't I, Your Lordship?"

Alex just nodded wearily and waited for her to come out, then began to pull off his overalls as well:

I think she's having a nervous breakdown, he thought aloof as he stretched out on the couch. Just fifteen minutes ago, she was tearing and thrashing and ready to tear Lieutenant Sarvola apart with her teeth... and now she's smiling and cheerful, even trying to joke...

Though there was no point in nagging at the girl, Alex grinned grimly as he stared at his reflection in the dark mahogany panel, polished to a high shine. You're freaking out, too... deep down.

He was not allowed to lie on the sofa in peace. In just a few minutes, a call came on the communicator, and the captain of the yacht apologetically warned that the shuttle with Baroness Rional and the Marquis Degrasto would be arriving in just a few minutes.

Realizing that he was about to be jumped on and expressing his concern, perhaps even sincerely, Alex began to put the overalls back on, picking up the many fasteners, cords, and some wires that had previously belonged to the overalls and were picturesquely scattered around the bedroom. The lord was too lazy to go to the wardrobe to find something more appropriate.

By the way, it's interesting - the Marquis was definitely in contact with this Tallana professor, and the third "unknown" negotiator is young and female. It's a piquant thing if they're both in on it.

Adding to the spice was the recollection that the Marquis was traveling with four servants, three of whom, in Alex's view, were of the right build and age to be fighters.

Yes, Taer and I are clearly outnumbered.

Alex looked at Kayrin and Marquis Degrasto walking down the clear tube of the receiving port that connected the yacht and the small silver shuttle, something subtly similar to the sports boats of his world. With the Marquis, of course, were his servants - all four of them. The faces of all of them were very worried.

Well, let's hope they don't become so blunt as to attack outright.

"Alex! What's wrong? Are you all right?" Kayrin was pouncing with questions before she could get out of the shuttle. "When we were taking off, I saw the Flyer crash outside your site. I was so freaked out!"

"We were contacted by an intelligence representative and told that you were leaving urgently," Marquis Degrasto looked somewhat annoyed. "And he didn't explain anything."

Alex thought for a moment about what to say and what not to say. Then he decided that they would find out anyway:

"There's been another attempt on my life," he said in as mundane and bored a tone as possible. Like bad weather, he complained. "He was unfortunately not without casualties this time - one of the guardsmen of my Arm was badly wounded."

"Is Taer hurt?" Kayrin exclaimed, stunned. "What happens to her?"

"Not with Taer, thank g..." Alex hesitated but corrected himself in time. "Luckily she's all right. Dudo's wounded."

When she heard that Taer was all right, Kay sighed in relief. She then asked a few general questions about Dudo's health out of pure politeness. His fate was far less interesting to Baroness Rionale.

I wonder why she got so excited - I thought they didn't like each other, to put it mildly.

For the next thirty minutes, Alex answered the endless questions of the Marquis and Kayrin. Though there wasn't much to say, from his point of view, it was almost instantaneous: the only things he remembered were the huge column of water surrounding the machine that had popped out of the lake, the howl of the phasers and the air filled with buzzing blasts of tracers, and then - he was knocked down and pinned to the ground by Taer, who was surprisingly heavy.

The results of the investigation did not shine with the variety either - "no witnesses, no suspects, no detainees, no evidence..." - so the Marquis soon enough left Alex behind and, bowing out, went with his servants to his quarters to change - he was still in his hunting suit, bearing the marks of a long walk through the wet thickets of Voigrom.

Kayrin, on the other hand, seemed determined to take the opportunity to squeeze everything out of Alex:

"I think you're hiding something from me," she sighed sadly as she and Alex walked to the main hall. "First the poisoning, the shield generator in the castle, and now another assassination attempt. Why won't you tell me everything? Maybe I can help you. And if I can't, my Clan can."

Really, Kayrin, you couldn't have killed Lord Velaske and Professor Takkar. And one other unknown damsel. Those bitches are on a deadline because of me, so they're trying to do their best. And if you can't, maybe your Clan can do it?

"You know, Kay, frankly, I don't really have much to tell you," Alex sat comfortably on one of the cozy couches around the perimeter of the main lounge where he and Kayrin had come "to talk". "Someone wants to kill me, but you already know that. It was obvious after the poisoning. Why someone wants to kill me, I have no idea," he said, and that's the plain truth. "I may have known it before. But after the poisoning, my memory is far from perfect."

"If you've forgotten everything," Kayrin arched an eyebrow. "Then why did you buy a shield generator and hire more people? Look, Alex, I'm not your enemy, I really want to help you!"

"Why?" tiredly asked Alex, who slightly doubted the sincere altruism of this NLP-girl.

"That's a strange question! In our generation, I am closest to you. Blood to blood, fire to fire!" she quoted some local proverb. "You have to stick to each other in these matters! An attack on you is an attack on my Clan. You are the last of your kind, and if you are killed, I have no one else to avenge you."

"I agree," Alex didn't believe Baroness Rionale's version of 'one for all and all for one.' "And how exactly can you help?"

"Well..." she began, stepping closer and touching him on the shoulder as if unintentionally (I see, you have limited resources, my dear...). "It depends on what exactly is going on around you. But, at the very least, I could summon some of my Arm. Taer alone, for all its merits, is obviously not enough."

And find yourself surrounded by a bunch of armed brutes who obey you? Yes, you're my sweetheart - do you really think I'm that naive?

"I don't think that's necessary," Alex assured her. "It's unlikely the killers will dare make another attempt anytime soon."

"I don't understand why I deserve your distrust!" Kayrin frowned and pulled away. "I really want to help you! But you won't even tell me what's going on! If there's a secret involved, I'll give you my word!"

And after all, what am I risking? In any case, we've already decided to leak the footage to Countess Durlurl.

"The word?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I give my word as Baroness Rionale!" she pressed her right hand to her chest, and her voice was solemn. "That I will keep your secret, whatever it may be! I can swear on fire. If you want me to." She added after a moment's hesitation.

"I think your word is more than enough," smiled Alex, who had little faith in the effectiveness of any vow

"Then tell me about it!" Kayrin declared, moving closer again. "What's going on?"

"Well, all right," he got up from the sofa and held out his hand. "Let's go."

In his quarters he went to the suppressors first, out of a habit he had already picked up.

"It's very nice here." Kayrin looked around curiously.

Alex just nodded absentmindedly in response, saying that I liked it too.

This entry was in the mail. Unfortunately, we looked at it after the assassination attempt.

He switched on the cluster built into the small table. Two holographic screens flashed in front of the chairs, and the picture on them shook slightly, gaining depth and clarity, gradually revealing a familiar picture...

"We need to contact Countess Durlurl," Kayri said in a strangled voice after the recording had ended. "This is clearly directed against our entire House."

And so is she! She's not a countess. She's a lifesaver!

"That's probably what we'll do once the boat arrives in Copeira. I don't really like the idea myself, though."

"That's the most sensible thing to do in a situation like this!" Kayrin objected firmly. "Your Arm is very small, you have no Clan to fall back on, and for some reason, you refuse my help. And Taer isn't omnipresent. She's not enough to protect you. And Daim Esta has to be warned anyway: It seems to me that the attempt on your life is no more than a cover for an attack on our House. The girl was talking about some kind of ship."

"Yes, I understand!"

Alex was reluctant to let Kayrin in on his difficulties with Countess Durlurl and diplomatically overlooked the passage about people helping to guard him.

But Kay is right: Taer alone will not be enough - I must get some people together and people as far away from politics as possible!

"Are you having some sort of disagreement with Countess Durlurl?" guessed Kayrin, who couldn't help the lack of enthusiasm at the mention of the head of intelligence.

"Ah, never mind," Alex brushed her off. "A little misunderstanding..."

"Is that all?" There was a slight tinge of irony in Kayrin's smile. "What had caused this misunderstanding?"

He wrestled with doubts for a few moments - whether or not to tell - and decided, what the hell - it can't get any worse:

"Let's just say it relates to my possible marriage..."

"Оh!" Kayrin's eyebrows went up. "She's against marrying Valerie Bellar? I didn't know."

"No," Alex shook his head. "I'm against it."

"You?!" she exclaimed with a kind of joyful amazement. "Alex, but why?!"

He shrugged his shoulders with as indifferent a look as possible:

"I don't want to."

"I was told that you were almost the author of the idea! And you certainly weren't against it!"

"Maybe. But I, you know, managed to lose my memory in the process. And I lost it hard. And then I'm told I have to marry this girl, who I've never seen before! And why I need this marriage - I just don't understand! So I'm not enthusiastic about the whole idea."

"Well... Well, don't get married!" With the broadest and most sincere smile, Kayrin suggested. "What's the big deal? They haven't even announced the engagement yet."

"The difficulty lies with Countess Durlurl, who does not want the whole arrangement with House Bentar to go down the drain just because someone has suddenly changed his mind."

"Who cares what she doesn't want?" Baroness Rionale smirked defiantly. "Let her look for another candidate! I'm sure finding someone willing to be Lord Consort isn't the hardest thing to do."

"I understand that the Bentars insist on my candidacy..." Alex sighed. "But, generally speaking, I'm not in the mood for marriage problems right now..."

"I see..." Kayrin nodded sympathetically. "I think we should contact Countess Durlurl, anyway. And about marriage..." she cheered up again, winking conspiratorially. "You know, I think... no, I'm sure I have a way to help you. And without offending anyone!"

"I wonder how?" Alex raised an eyebrow with interest.

"Well," said a pleased Kayrin. "Let's just say I'm not promising anything yet. But if it works, it'll be a force majeure, and you won't be in any danger! Wouldn't you?"

Alex nodded silently, not really counting on anything.

You never know, but let's see!

She jumped up enthusiastically from her chair:

"I need to send an urgent message then. Where's your communicator?" Kayrin turned to leave and was about to go but froze when she saw the gently pulsing blue fabric of hyperspace outside the stateroom window. "Great shadows! We're already in the jump. I didn't even notice the transition!"

She sighed sadly but waved her hand:

"All right, then, I'll wait for the arrival on Copeira! By the way, Alex, what do you think of a light meal? I'm starving - the last time I ate was before I landed on Voigrom."

"I think that's a great idea!" Apart from the flag captain's attempt to feed Alex some cuttlefish, he didn't eat anything at all.

"Then, meet me in the refectory!" Kayrin suggested, sending him one of her dazzling smiles. "I'm going to take this off and change into something more appropriate," she pointed a finger at her luxurious reddish leather hunting costume.

Waiting for the door to close behind Kayrin, Alex let out a long groan and started to pull off his overalls, but then spat and began to zip them back on.

To hell with them all! After all, whether I'm an autocrat and a drunkard or not! I can walk around my yacht in overalls!

Alex spent the next nine hours, which it took for the yacht to jump to Copeira, trying to find out from the Marquis of Degrasto in roundabout ways what interest the Melatian lord and the Talana professor had in causing chaos in House Fyron by killing Allesandro Cassard.

No clear motives emerged: House Melato was, of course, a rival and almost an enemy of House Fyron, but they had no common border, and a direct attack was highly unlikely. The Tallana option was murky - the Tallana oligarchy had no interest in making trouble for House Fyron. Especially not in this way.

There was also the possibility that the Professor was, in fact, a terrorist representative from the PVD, but that did not add to the clarity since Alessandro Cassard was not an imperial official and had never even spoken particularly enthusiastically about the Empire.

So when the yacht landed near Blue Flame Castle nine hours later, Alex and Taer, having unloaded their guests to the majordomo, went straight to the bedroom of the "security specialist".

"Don't move, or you'll get caught in the terminal camera's field of view!" Taer instructed, making sure she was the only one in sight of the secure terminal.

After checking the fit of her uniform (which Alex thought was perfect) and brushing an invisible speck of dust off her shoulder, the "specialist" entered the number into the terminal.

A red griffin on a grey field appeared on the screen, enclosed in a golden circle. Beneath the circle was a stylized gold eye. After a few seconds, the screen saver disappeared, replaced by a blue-shaven young man of about twenty-five in a charcoal-black uniform:

"Identify yourself at once!" he blurted out. "Otherwise, you will be charged with resisting the investigation!"

"Er..." the stunned Taer only had time to utter before an angry shout came from across the screen, the picture blinked, and Countess Durlurl appeared on the screen.

A very, very pissed-off Countess Durlurl, to be precise:

"Lieutenant, remember! In this office, I, or my secretary, answer the call!" she hissed, looking sideways.

"They may be accomplices to the assassins whom you can warn in some way, so we have to limit your public..." the lieutenant started to object from somewhere outside the camera but was interrupted by the countess:

"Please come to me, Lieutenant," she chanted affectionately, smiling sweetly.

Soon a young man in a charcoal-black SS uniform appeared in the camera's field of vision.

"Tell me, Lieutenant, did they teach you the part of the law about the Great Houses of Tail and their liberties at the Academy?" she asked, flashing a charming smile.

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"Then you must be aware," Daim Esta continued smiling absently, twisting a button near the collar on the lieutenant's uniform. "That despite the witty legal loophole your office has found, the Grand House Guards, like the nobility, are outside the jurisdiction of the Imperial Security Service... Well, Lieutenant, what do you think would happen to you if I were to complain to the Emperor at my next meeting about a violation of the freedoms of the nobility by an SS Lieutenant? By the way, confirmed personally by His Majesty? Guarding a very distant asteroid or going straight to the disciplinary section?"

The Lieutenant swallowed frantically and opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, Countess Durlurl surprisingly, for her submissive build, suddenly tugged at his collar. Her brown eyes were black with anger, and her face was so black with anger. For a moment, Aleix thought that Daim Eesta was about to clutch at his throat:

"So it's in your best interest to make sure I don't remember your name a month from now," she growled in his face." Have I made myself clear enough, Stack Lieutenant Asfi Terger? Do you have the right to conduct an investigation?" She inquired, a ring of ice in her voice, and without waiting for an answer, she brought her free hand crashing down on the table, causing everyone to wince in surprise:

"Well, then investigate!" raised her voice to a shout from Esta. "But remember, this is where I decide who talks to whom and when!"

She was silent for a moment, and after taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued in an angry whisper:

"And if those present continue to be inappropriate, I may be tempted to express my displeasure in other ways. And then it won't be up to the disciplinary section."

Countess Durlurl released the Lieutenant's collar. He immediately recoiled, squinting frightened at her, and began frantically tidying up his uniform.

"So please, Lieutenant," Esta's face brightened, and she smiled charmingly. "Don't interrupt - it makes me very angry."

"Yes..." Alex gradually withdrew from the scene. "The ability to work with people.is God's level."

The lieutenant mumbled something unintelligible and retreated to somewhere outside the camera's field of vision. And Countess's attention shifted to Taer, who, after the scene had played out, sat as quietly as possible, without any indication of her presence:

"Taer, sweetheart, sorry to keep you waiting, we're in grief..." she said in a ringing voice, giving Taer a sweet smile.

"Grief? What happened, your ladyship?"

"Twelve hours ago, the Ruling Lord of House Melato died," Esta sighed sadly.

"Oh...", said Taer, dumbfounded by what was happening.

"Yes, a grievous loss," the Countess said. "He was shot dead with a bullet gun. And, imagine, the Melatians think they have found the killers. Or rather, their bodies. Because they died in a skirmish with the guardsmen. Yes... And all three of them were carrying House Fyren's retainer medallions. And they turned out to be our retainers who disappeared on Tallana a week ago."

"But that's absurd!" Taer exhaled. "Why bring medallions with them?"

"I'm glad you understand me!" Esta smiled happily. "But unfortunately, our friends in the Imperial Security Service..." she paused, eyeing the button torn off the lieutenant with interest. "...Yes, our friends think otherwise. And they have found one legal loophole that allows them," her lips curled, and she spat out. "Investigate. And now they're literally everywhere, even in my office, getting in the way. We have, of course, already sent our complaint to the Emperor and the Imperial High Tribunal, but since the Imperial Navy has refused to allow us to use the zero-communication systems, it will be a couple of days before the message reaches the capital... Yes... So what did you call?"

Taër hesitated for a moment, probably wondering what to say, but then she answered immediately:

"There has been another attempt on Lord Cassard's life, and I wanted to ask for your assistance in transferring some Guardsmen to the Lord's Arm."

"Yes, I have already been informed of this distressing incident," the Countess nodded. "Well, send me the names, and I'll arrange for a transfer."

"Thank you for your help, Your Ladyship! I'll send you the names later," Taer nodded to Esta and disconnected.

"You know, I don't think we can count on Countess Durlurl's help for the next week. The shadows there know what's going on! It's unlikely she'll be able to deal with Lord Velaske and the Professor before she gets rid of the SS watchdogs."

"Well, that's not our only option. You know, I've been missing Isalaya for a while now. I think I should go see her as soon as possible."
* * *

perfectgeneral · Apr 24, 2023

Your translation is so much more readable than the app. Thank you for this work. It is a great story.

RiP · Apr 27, 2023

Chapter 19

* * *
Great shadows, how things have changed. Vimo Derbal wondered in his mind as he walked leisurely towards the sanctum sanctorum of the Imperial Intelligence Headquarters.

The long corridor was perfectly clean and perfectly empty. The sound of footsteps echoed off the marble slabs of the floor and bounced off the walls, echoing somewhere in the dark height of the ceiling. The walls of black stone with golden veins were slightly sloped inward, giving a kind of unerring monumentality to the situation. Every ten steps, the wall's mirrored surface interrupted to form wide darkened niches. Some of them had doors leading into offices, and some of them stood guard like statues. Six years ago, the last time Vimo had been in the office, the corridor was crowded with people, someone eating something, someone discussing something, and the atmosphere was much simpler.

You were also six years younger, the ladies of the capital were still crazy about officers, and the Old Man was in charge... he grinned absently, glancing absently at his reflection in the mirror-polished wall surface.

There, a tall, fair-haired man, in his "mature age", was walking with a confident gait. He wore the snow-white uniform of a senior naval officer, and on his sleeve glinted a metallic insignia: three stylized intersecting vectors connected by a circle, indicating his affiliation to the Imperial Intelligence Service. A gold epaulet on his right shoulder and an axel band with a sword suspended from it indicated that he was a full Sain Major in Imperial Intelligence.

"Do you have an appointment?" Cautiously asked a young blonde with the shoulder straps of a Stack Cadet as Vimo approached her desk at the end of the corridor.

"I think so." He smiled. "Sain Major Vimo Derbal."

"О! You are expected, Mr. Sain Major." The girl stepped out from behind the desk and opened the massive double doors with a touch of the test unit, making an inviting gesture. "Please follow me."

Artie's always been exceptionally good at arranging things, thought the sain major thoughtfully as he watched the blonde's "stern," who was strutting ahead, her pretty heeled feet in clear contradiction to the formal regulations.

The small corridor, designed in soft golden colors, ended with a single door with a golden sign: 'Head of the Fourth Department, Artul Traveri'. The girl knocked briefly and opened the door in front of him.

"Sain Major Vimo Derbal, Sir." The pretty guide announced him, stretching out at attention.

"Thank you, Stack Cadet, you are dismissed." said the Ergo Captain, seated at the massive, wide aryat table. He too was wearing a white ceremonial uniform. His narrow face, with its predatory eagle nose, was earnest, his dark hair slightly touched with a white dusting of gray, and his light brown eyes gazed fixedly at the entrant. But as soon as the door was closed behind her, all seriousness vanished from the master of the office:

"Vim, you scorched face," the Ergo Captain threw himself into a hug, "it's a long time since I've seen you, a demon..."

Vimo, ignoring his friend's rhetorical question, hugged him silently. If you've served two years on advanced reconnaissance ships without taking your spacesuit off for months at a time. Because on scouts, there is no bio-defense field. And your only entertainment is to communicate with your partner, who as well as you, is locked in a cramped dark chamber of the cabin for the next couple of months, then you either become best friends for life or will hate each other. The latter happened a lot more often than the former. But he and Artie became best friends, and when the "Old Man" set up a reconnaissance unit from scratch and invited Stack Captain Artul there, he "dragged" his friend Vimo Derbal after him.

"I see you've got yourself settled in." Vim grinned meaningfully, nodding towards the door behind which the pretty stack cadet had disappeared.

"Oh, don't remind me..." Artie sighed sadly and pointed to one of the chairs. Can I get you something to drink?

"Well, I'm sort of on holiday," he shrugged, "so I won't say no. Why are you sighing? Girl's a..."

"I'm scared of her at all." Artie declared, taking out glasses and a bottle of dark yellow glass from the mini-bar. He sat down in the opposite chair and poured the amber liquid over the glasses. "She's the boss's niece, so no affairs... And I'm not cut out for a serious relationship."

"What boss?" Vim wondered, taking a sip from his glass and feeling the thick, slightly tart liquid with a soft honey tone melt into his mouth:

"It's Bentar's Dew..." Vim exhaled in admiration and raised his glass to the light. "Your salary seems to be in line with rumors about it."

"It's from an untouchable and carefully saved for an occasion like this." Artie smiled slyly. "And which boss's niece... Admiral Durav, of course, the Old Man had no nieces."

Vim shrugged indifferently and took another sip. He frankly didn't like the new 'Chief' even though all their communication had been reduced to a dozen comm talks. Admiral Asunho Durav had succeeded "The Old Man" as head of Imperial Intelligence, who had retired four decades ago due to his advanced age. One hundred and eight years old was certainly not a small age from any angle, but the "Old Man" was as strong as the frontal armor of an attack cruiser and lived up to his job. In any case, Their Imperial Majesty knows best... And the "Old man", when Vim visited him, didn't seem particularly upset by his retirement. But the one who replaced him... Frankly speaking, everyone thought that the new chief would be Artie, who was the right hand of the "Old Man". But instead, the Emperor put Admiral Durav, from Vim's point of view a rather dumb soldier, in charge of Intelligence. Especially since he's from the fleet's line forces and has the faintest idea about intelligence. And if only the admiral had been quietly enjoying the privileges and "shining" in society, leaving all the real work to the deputies. But no, he wanted to command...

"And then count the Bentar Dew as an advance for your next assignment." Artie broke the silence.

"You must want me dead if you have to give me Bentar's dew before the mission."

"Have you heard about the Lord Director...?" Instead of answering the question, Artie asked.

Being in the capital and not hearing about the death of Lord Director of Imperial Security Renis Teito as a result of the shuttle disaster was almost impossible. Absolutely all the holo channels and all the news lines of the com networks were full of it. "Tragic accident that cut short the life of a great man". The shuttle exploded on an 'aggressive' landing, a power shield failure, and a minor disturbance in the outer shell on a normal glide path and speed would not have led to disaster. But Lord Teito didn't like to wait - that's what ruined him. Of course, there were theories of an anti-imperial alliance assassination. But Vim didn't believe that; he was familiar enough with the way the Lord Director was guarded. No, the rebels don't have the arms for that sort of thing...

"You want me to take over this investigation?" Vim almost choked on his wine. He didn't want to become "guilty beforehand" by taking on a clearly failed case. And the attention to the results would be the most intense.

"No, you didn't." Artie shook his head. "I was at the Chief's today. He's furious. You wouldn't believe it. He even yelled at me. Intelligence and Security are not going to look into this. The investigation has been entrusted to the Emperor's Shadows."

Wow. Vim was surprised in his mind. Either the Emperor decided to show the highest degree of displeasure with Intelligence and SS. Or he really believes that the death of the head of the Security Service is not accidental. He was about to open his mouth to share the thought with his friend when he noticed that here staring intently into his eyes, making a circular motion with his index finger. That was how they signified that they were being eavesdropped on.

"That's how..." he muttered aloud, looking questioningly at his friend. I wonder who has the nerve to eavesdrop on the Head of the Fourth Department in his own office? The new 'Chief' might well be looking out for an overly talented deputy... Or maybe we should look higher. The Emperor's doubts engendered by the death of the Lord Director may well have found material embodiment...

"That's the way it is..." Still nodded gravely Artie. "By the way are you aware of the Astrese rumors?"

"No. What about the rumors?" Asked Vim in a very calm voice, remembering that when he had visited the "Old Man", he had also remembered the court adept Astreus, who was still alive at the time. Suddenly he asked if he - Vimo - had ever thought of resigning because: "It's about time, son." He took it as a joke at the time.

"I don't know anything myself." Artie sighed, emphasizing the word "anything." "They say he made some kind of prediction before he died. But in my opinion, that's nothing more than idle gossip; the death of an adept is always a mystery in the eyes of the court drollers."

Vim shrugged, letting his friend decide what to say out loud and where to hint, and went for a cigarette - prayer always helped him to concentrate.

"So what's this appointment that's got me kicked out of my cozy military attaché's job at the Sociara Mission, and now they're giving me Bentar Dew?" he asked, holding out a second cigarette to Artie.

"Well, you know I'm not religious, unlike you." He started to object but still took a cigarette. It was their old ritual. He always refused first and then smoked one with him.

"The flames are ready to receive all." Vim grinned, giving his friend a light. "Yes, and the Lord Director, it is worth remembering, though he was a scum he knew his job well. May the Patroness watch over his soul."

"Let her keep it..." Artie agreed, inhaling. He let out a puff of smoke and suddenly coughed heavily:

"I think I've had enough of this stuff." He said in a slightly husky voice, handing the lighter back. "How do you keep it up... One word fanatics."

"It's all about constant training. So what about the appointment?"

Artie grimaced like a toothache and took another puff:

"Eight days ago, we had a group missing in the Tail Sector." He reported in an even huskier voice and took a big sip from his glass."And there's something murky going on. I don't know what."

"Sector Tail..." said Vim. "It's a delicate matter, and I don't know much about their cuisine. I'd get embarrassed. Or mix up the Lordship with the Grace, and there'd be a political scandal."

"Don't insult your superior." Artie sighed wearily. "I understand all that... And that it's impossible to work there. I know. I'd rather stick my dick in a beehive with a pearly wasp than work with the local aristocracy. But there's no one else. They're all dumb kids. They only know how to push straight ahead, waving their IDs like some SS."

"There seemed to be a confidante there specifically for this purpose."

"I'm afraid the confidant has a vested interest in the muddle that's gone up in Tail's Sector. That's why we need someone on the outside. Besides, you're a Fire Worshiper, so you can visit the shrines as well."

"Fire worshippers." Vim grimaced. "Don't say that in a public place, Mr. Ergo-Captain, or there might be a scandal. "Servants of Ryane," or "Secondarist" at the very least. And from the Fire Throne's point of view, I'm a heretic, so I can't go there."

"The main thing is not to tell His Purity "Guardian of the Fire" your original theory, and you can visit the shrines all right. And as for the name, the shadows will sort you out. I was recently persuaded by the protocol department that the correct name to call them is "Ir'Ryanists".

"Look, Artie, let's be serious. What kind of field agent am I? I'm not so young anymore. I can't remember the last time I was in the field. For the last six years, I've been working with Sociara's top brass."

"Let's be serious." He nodded. "Did I say anything about a field agent? No. You're going there officially. And age... ...forty-four is the prime of your life, don't be so humble."

"Officially?" raised an eyebrow at Vim. "In what capacity?"

"As an Imperial Investigator. There was a very successful attempt to poison a lord of the empire. The High Tribunal has already sent a request for an investigation."

"I thought the Emperor preferred not to get involved in the family conflicts of the Great Houses."

"And now he decided to intervene." Artie put his hands together with a sarcastic grin. "And then I wouldn't be surprised if this assassination attempt is connected to that mudslinging going on in the Sector. There's something going on out there. I need someone to listen to what the stars are whispering about. Do you understand me? Someone reliable and experienced. It has to be you." He said, underlining "you" in his voice.

Vim silently folded his arms and thought about what Artie wanted to tell him:

Me, exactly? And what's the significance of an old friend, Sain Major Vimo Derbal? Because he's a friend. Vim answered himself but immediately dismissed the option. The head of the Fourth Department must have an ass instead of a head if he has no other confidants. Friendly connections were out of the question. He had spent the last six years outside the Empire in the capital of the Sociara Union, playing the game of 'I know you know I know...'. It certainly gave him a certain amount of experience. And that experience told him that in aristocratic society almost everything was defined by title and connections. And he had neither. Titles went mostly to brave naval captains and pilots, with a little extra for the army. And almost never for Intelligence or SS, that was the unspoken order. And connections... He had no connections, even though the Court was teeming with aristocrats from Tail's Sector.

It's hard to make connections when you're nearly two decades from the capital... Vim thought jovially and froze. That's it! I have no connections there, but no one in Tail's Sector has any connections with me either, and he can be sure of that. He doesn't know that about anyone else.

"All right," he said aloud, "but what am I going to do there, without people, without resources..."

"You will have the widest possible powers. All local groups will be temporarily subordinated to you." With a broad smile, Artie assured him, "If anything, involve the confidant's men, but with some caution."

"What's the deal with this lord anyway..." Vim began but was interrupted by Artie:

"Here is all the information you need," he declared, holding out the two info sticks. "And as for the lord, of course, the criminals who have plotted against the illustrious prince and lord of the empire are highly desirable to be found. If you do, it won't stick with me - you know me. And if not, then no..."

"When do I leave?" queried Vim unhappily.

"The sooner - the better." Artie shook his hands regretfully, "A courier is waiting for you in orbit. So as soon as you get the investigator's paperwork and all that bureaucracy, you'll be on your way. The deadline is tomorrow."

"Oh, damn. And I thought I'd have time to get out with you on the hunt..."

"You know," Artie sighed, a pained look in his eyes. "I think it's for the best that you're leaving now. When you get back, you and I are going to have a blast..."

They chatted about the past for about an hour, and then Vimo started to leave. He decided to leave today. He had nothing special to do in the capital, only minor bureaucratic matters, and to pick up the still unpacked suitcases from the service flat. So six hours later, he was aboard an imperial intelligence courier ship. Putting his Infoblock on the narrow table in the corner of his quarters, Vim began to change his clothes. He replaced the ceremonial uniform with a large slanted sociarian dressing gown, sat down at the table, and inserted the first rod. The infobox beeped grudgingly and asked for a personal code and confirmation of identity. Five minutes later, when the security measures had finally been overcome, it became clear that the information on both rods was the same. This was obvious stupidity:

Artie couldn't have slipped me two identical sticks, thought Vim, frustrated, checking the data once more they were exactly the same. He pulled out both rods - they looked identical. Acting on a hunch, he tried to unscrew one first and then the other. The second stick gave way - the head clicked, opening the hiding place - three white pills and a note rolled up into a tube fell out on the table.

Hope this helps you mate.

Vim picked up one of the tablets and held it up to the lamp - the white surface under the light was clearly pearlescent - "Rainbow".

I wonder how many regulations, acts, and laws Artie has broken, he thought unhappily as he looked at the iridescent iridescence on the surface of the pill. The Rainbow allowed the most ordinary person to become almost an adept for a while - he developed the strongest empathy, intuition increased manifold, a "sense of danger" appeared, and what happened to the full-fledged adepts who took the Rainbow... That's why the usage of the Rainbow was strictly regulated - it was nothing to say. Each usage required permission from the First Inquisitor or an edict from the Emperor. Vim took Rainbow just once, during a training course on the use of "medications of the third class and above". The dose was about a quarter of a tablet, but he had had enough of it...

Why did he give them to me? And in violation of official procedure. Artie must have known how I felt about that stuff. I wouldn't eat rainbow voluntarily unless I was desperate. Vim's first impulse was to throw the pills in the incinerator. In front of him on the table was not only the sure end of his career but three higher sentences all at once. But thinking about it, with a heavy sigh, he shoved the pills back into the stash. And for what shadows I have been ripped from Sociara? Mentally he groaned, opening his record collection folder and hiding the stick, among hundreds of others. I liked it so much there, snooping quietly. The Sociars pretended they didn't know what the First Attache was up to, I pretended I didn't know what they knew. I went to my appointments and in my spare time, I collected materials on the Church of the Flame... Easy.

He looked regretfully at the bundle of sticks with unstructured information on the ancient period of the "Ryan Service " and sighed heavily, tossing them back into the folder. He had a mountain of analyses and reports from groups in the Tail Sector to read.

After four days of sitting in his quarters and vigil in front of the terminal, the courier ship arrived at Tallana, home to the main base of the army, the navy, and, in addition, the sector office of imperial intelligence. They were already waiting for him, a stack captain in a white senior naval officer's uniform, and two attendants in navy blue, stretched at attention across the gangway. Judging by the somewhat nervous faces of those greeting him, there was a wave of "pep" coming from the head of the Fourth Department, or maybe someone higher.

"Welcome to Fortress Forizet, Mr. Plenipotentiary Investigator." The stack captain began as Vim stepped off the ramp onto the springy, mirror-finished silkscreened flooring of the station's enormous ramp field. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Stack Captain Greg Tundali, head of local Imperial Intelligence," he said, holding out his hand. He was in his early thirties and already head of a sector office - a fine career for such an age. His dark hair and brown eyes gave off an aristocratic breed, and his skin was as pale as anyone who lived on the stations. The stout and trim stack captain didn't look like a "staff bug". He must have transferred from the navy.

After exchanging greetings with Captain Tundali, Vim politely declined the offer to go to his assigned rest quarters:

"Actually, I would prefer to get straight to the point."

"Oh, well, I guess we'd better head for the office." Proposed Tundali, pointing towards the exit of the access field.

The station area allocated for Intelligence purposes was not too far from the outer perimeter, so ten minutes later, Vim was sitting in the stack captain's office, tastefully furnished by the way, and sipping the taymar brought by a rarely pretty assistant. Looks like in the six years I've been on Sociara, there's a fashion in intelligence for pretty female stack cadets. Unfortunately, minus the setting and the assistant, there was nothing else Captain Tundali could please him with:

"Is it really that bad?" With a slight skepticism in his voice, Sain Major Vimo asked his interlocutor. When it turned out that the whole "unofficial" part of the management, i.e. field groups, agents, and informants, was run by a Confidante:

"Admittedly, I thought the Tallana department had its own, independent of the confidant, agents among the Great Houses. The lack of direct channels could adversely affect the quality of information." He added.

"Here on Tallana, and on the Free Worlds, we have our own informants." Dullly sighed the stack captain. In the realms of the Great Houses, we have men where it is critical, in the Shipyards and in the Fleet. For the rest, we have to rely on the Confidante.

"Is someone in the leadership of the Guard cooperating with us?" Vim raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, the higher ranks were from the aristocracy, and they were all connected in one way or another and might know something.

"Oh, no, sadly not." sighed Tundali. "It's mostly junior technicians and dock workers. The guardsmen are hard to work with, House pays them an awful lot, and our funds are very limited. No way to pressure them either. They hide behind immunity. With aristocrats, it is even more difficult. They are quite a closed society - just establishing acquaintance is already a big problem." He shook his hands. "That is why we have to rely on the help of a confidant in many things that concern the higher circles."

"So you have nothing to add to what I've already read in the reports?"

"Quite the contrary." protested the Stack Captain. "There was a second attempt on Lord Cassard's life eight hours ago." He pulled two info sticks out of his desk drawer and handed them to Vim. "Here is the report of the initial investigation and a note from our analysts on the current situation."

"Well, thank you. Were your people in charge of the investigation?"

"No, sir. This is a copy of what the SS sent us. Also, the House people are investigating, we have certain arrangements with them, and they keep us informed."

Vim's eyebrows crept up: "So no one from intelligence is doing it?"

"Confidant is keeping a close eye on the case." Seeing the disgruntled grimace on the face of the `authorized investigator', Captain Tundali hastily added:

"I only have a hundred and forty people, sir." He again sadly shook his hands, "Thirty of them are analysts, and another twenty are technicians. And there are eight Great Houses in the Sector, not to mention the Free Worlds. We just can't keep up everywhere."

Vim frowned thoughtfully and twirled the sticks in his hands; he didn't like the situation at all:

"OK, can you outline the situation in your own words? Briefly."

"In a nutshell. It's a shit situation." Tundali admitted. "The latest attempt on Lord Cassard's life, not at all like a family squabble within the House, he was fired upon by an HGM. This kind of cavalierness is possible when no one thinks of the consequences. Our informants and hyperspace intelligence ships report active movement by Great Houses Fyron and Kilret fleets, and ships are moving into the border zone near Istar. Analysts believe there may be an armed conflict, and the killing of Lord Cassard is a distraction."

"And what does the Confidant think about this?"

"Confidant agrees with the analysts in the sense that we are dealing with a conflict between Houses. But he believes the conflict will not be military but more political between Melato and Bentar, and Lord Cassard's murder is a means of keeping House Fyron busy with an internal squabble and knocking the ground out from under the feet of the pro-Fyron party in Bentar's Privy Council."

"Well, at least it makes more sense than House Kilert attacking Fyron," chuckled Vim, "as I recall the Fyron fleet being twice as large."

"The Analytical Department believes that Fyron, not Kilret, is the firestarter of the aggression."

"What's the point for them?"

Tundali shrugged slightly absent-mindedly: "A preemptive strike. There's too much friction between them. Kilreatz is sitting on the only access to Tallana and is strangling the Fyron trade with duties. Right now, the Kilreatz fleet consists of eight battlecruisers though, they call them 'antipiracy frigates,'" Tundali added with a grin, "and is supported by a hundred fighters and two light aircraft carriers that aren't exactly LPCs. Lady Baala is well aware that Fyron's fleet is much stronger, so they're building ten more strike cruisers and two more light aircraft carriers at the Tallana shipyard on behalf of Kilreatz. They will be ready in a year. Eighteen strike cruisers and four aircraft carriers are a serious force, plus four strike cruisers from their ally House Peltar. In addition, the Peltars are actively trying to repair their flagship, and if they succeed, they will also have a Heavy Cruiser. In principle, this will be enough power for Fyron to give up the idea of going directly to 'deep space'. Given the rumors of negotiations between House Kilretz and the Melatians, the balance of power may be tangibly shifting and not in Fyron's favor."

"That's why they decide to attack now." There was a distinct hesitation in Vim's voice. "Despite the fact that an attack would incur the Emperor's wrath. And at the same time, trying to kill one of their lords, knowing that this could cause incredible internal feuding, perhaps even a war between the clans."

"Well, they may not act so overtly. Analysts think they will provoke the Kilretz in some way. Perhaps, the attacks on Lord Cassard have something to do with it. Also, they don't have to invade and start a full-scale war. Perhaps, it will come down to a quick border conflict in which most of House Kilretz's fleet will be destroyed. As for Lord Cassard - he's not dead after all, so maybe they didn't want to kill him.

"So he didn't die?" Vim wondered. "After being hit by an HGM?"

"He's as lucky as an ascended." smiled the stack captain. "He doesn't have a scratch on him. Perhaps the assassination attempt was nothing more than an act. At least that's what our analysis department thinks, and that's what the report says."

"I'll be sure to familiarize myself with it." Nodded Vim, sinking into unhappy thoughts. This assignment had smelled bad from the start, but now it was beginning to stink. Luckily, he was formally sent here to investigate an assassination attempt, and the potential war was not on his conscience.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Sain Major?" Tundali asked cautiously

Yes. Do you know if the Navy has any plans for what's going on? If I were the Navy, I'd be unobtrusively conducting exercises as close to Istar as possible by now.

"As far as I know, none. Almost the entire Sector fleet, at the request of the Senate, has now gone to Alira to fight the pirates. And even if Admiral Felcherev is ordered to return right now, his ships won't be at Istar for another ten days. Tallana has five KSCs left, but three of them are undergoing maintenance, and the ships are not fully operational."

"What a lucky coincidence." smiled sarcastically Vim, who had long been able to see that most lucky coincidences are carefully orchestrated.

"It's too lucky." Tundali agreed.

"Well, we'll work with what we've got." Vim slapped his knee and stood up. "I'd like to see a list of your most intelligent operatives and arrange for me to meet with a confidant."

"All right, Mr. Sain Major, the list will be ready in about ten minutes. But arranging a meeting with the confidant is somewhat difficult given the signal delay, we won't be able to contact him for at least three hours."

"Well," sighed Vim, "then I'll go back to my room and read the data you gave me," he waved the info sticks he had received, shoved them into the folder, and headed for the exit. Captain Tundali hurried after him:

"Not to be indelicate, Mr. Sain Major, but how long do you plan to stay on Tallana?"

"That depends on how quickly you can get me a meeting with an intruder." Vim shrugged. "After what I've learned, I don't see much point in sticking around."

A shadow of relief slid across the Stack Captain's face.

"We will make every effort to ensure this meeting can take place as early as possible. And I would be very grateful if you would agree to our guards if you decide to visit the planet or the commercial stations."

Vim raised his eyebrows in surprise, not that he planned to visit the planet, but..:

"I thought Tallana was quite loyal."

"As a matter of fact, it is, sir. But there's a thing..." Tundali wrinkled his nose as if he'd eaten something sour. "There's been a recording of a group of men dressed in imperial uniforms raping three female students at the University of Tallana. Experts believe the footage is most likely authentic. Testimony from the students also confirms it."

"Rape?" He did not hide his astonishment and asked Vim. He had served in the navy for six years but had never heard of rape. Theft, drunken brawls and assaults, and drugs were common offenses among the crews, but not rape. The majority preferred to 'grind iron' by using droids, and although ship psychologists saw this as a potential problem, most sane captains did not discourage the practice.

"In addition to the Sector's main naval base, we also have the army's main base here. More than a million young men - such excesses are inevitable even from a statistical point of view."

"What's the army's shortage of appropriate droids? Also, as I recall, there are usually certain kinds of establishments associated with the bases, with which the command usually establishes certain arrangements."

"Such activities are forbidden on Tallana. And 'appropriate' droids have been banned under the new army regulations."

"Why?" Have they all gone insane over there?

"Ergo Captain Astalia Thalerd thinks they have a corrosive effect on discipline."

Vim shook his head sympathetically; he was suspicious of the abundance of women in the army leadership, and such idiocy in the regulations, he thought, only confirmed his doubts:

"Then one is surprised that only three people were raped."

"Actually, it's happened before," Tundali confessed. "It's just that we usually manage to find the culprits quickly, and keep the story from escalating."

"What about now? Have the culprits been found?"

"Unfortunately, no sir," Tundali sighed. "The bastards were smart enough to use condoms, and the footage doesn't show faces. That's why we couldn't find them quickly, and that's why rumors started flying that we were harboring criminals."

"Yeah, it's a nasty story," agreed Vim.

"Even nastier, sir. After the footage went viral, a large group of drunken students attacked four paratroopers on leave, probably for revenge. One of the soldiers had a gun on him. He shot four of them and wounded three others."

"Since when is it allowed to go on leave with a gun?"

"It wasn't a regular weapon." The stack captain shook his head negatively. "He owned the blaster on general civil rights and took it with him on leave."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that possibility. Has he been punished yet?"

"No sir, the tribunal found no crime. The students attacked first. He acted in self-defense. The local Holo-V people made a big story out of it. We tried to intervene, but you know this damn Sector has such privileges..."

Yes, privileges Vim agreed mentally - including the absence of an imperial censor board on the holo. And financial tools didn't work on a journalist drunk on potential fame.

"We failed to impose a censor's ban. .." The stack captain went on with the frankness of a man who has finally found someone ready to listen to his sorrows. "We tried to negotiate differently, using other means. You see..." He looked at Vim to make sure he understood what he meant and continue after the nod. "Well, students have always been the most unreliable public, and after the report of the results of the trial, they just exploded. A crowd of about a hundred thousand marched to the imperial office, demanding that the criminals are handed over and the garrisons and bases are removed from Tallana. For a while, they were just making noise, but then they began shouting political demands and insulting the Emperor. Someone in the crowd fired a blaster at the guard of honor at the imperial standard, and the crowd tried to tear it down."

And the guards, according to the imperial order 'On defending the honor of the flag', opened fire with live fire on the crowd. Vim added mentally, mechanically taking a cigarette out of his pocket. What was happening was a carefully orchestrated provocation, where a mob of teenagers had done exactly what they were supposed to do. Guards had no choice, caught between the rampaging and armed student soldiers and the direct command of the Imperial order to use their weapons if the flag was endangered. The fact that the guards were not accused of anything only served to inflame resentment even more

He took out his lighter and lit it thoughtfully. The stream of thought instantly curled into a thin grey bundle and disappeared into the hood: Oh, I guess someone decided to please Ryan with a decent shot, damn.

"By the time the police bots arrived with their heavy stun guns, there had been sixty-five casualties among the guards and about a thousand casualties among the demonstrators. So it's not safe to be alone on the planet or the commercial stations," Tundali finished his story with an odd squint at his cigarette.

For some time now, the SS has deemed "servants of Ryan to be politically unreliable".

Vim grinned and somewhat defiantly took another puff. Looks like the new generation of intelligence officers have the same shit in their heads as the SS.

"Well, thanks for the warning, Captain." He said aloud. "Anyway, I still need at least four operatives, so find someone who's a little more subtle but in a way that won't cause too much damage to your investigation. And get me someone who can get me into the local communications center" I need to speak to Artie right away.

The pretty assistant of the stack captain escorted him to the communicators' fiefdom, where the glint of the Sain Major's epaulets and the phrase 'plenipotentiary investigator' quickly made his way to the instant communication units. But it was unfortunately not possible to speak to Artie, his secretary, flapping her long eyelashes, reported that: "Mr. Ergo-Captain has been summoned to the palace, and it is not known when he will return." So Vim confined himself to a quick report to the head of the Fourth Department, expecting Artie to contact him after watching the video.

He spent the next two hours studying the material given to him by Stack Captain Tundali until he was interrupted by the appearance of the captain in the flesh. It turned out that a meeting with the confidant could be arranged in as little as eight hours, but he needed to leave right away for that. So after an hour, Vim showed the droid where to put his suitcases, in the cabin of a small transport, with the emblem of some holo channel on board. A more conspicuous and therefore less suitable courier had to leave later, together with Vim's selected operatives.

Confident met him aboard a luxury yacht that was waiting for them near the Copeira jumping area.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sain Major." She held out her hand to him, temporarily throwing Vim into a stupor as he frantically remembered whether it was customary to kiss or shake in the Tail Sector. "I am Lady Lakita Asta, a Confidante of Imperial Intelligence in Sector Tail." The confidante had a velvety enveloping voice, huge blue eyes, a wide smile with charming dimples, and the appearance of a girl of about twenty-five. A long snow-white dress and an equally snow-white mantle of long furs accentuated the jet-black color of her hair, which fell in a brilliant waterfall over her shoulders.

"Likewise, lady," replied Vim, kissing her hand. Judging by the smile, it was the right thing to do.

"I take it you are here to investigate the attempted assassination of Lord Cassard?" She asked, gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs and calling for a servant with refreshments.

"That's right." He replied as he waited for the servant to leave them alone. "And I'm counting on your help."

"All my powers are at your service." She smiled brightly. "What kind of help do you need?"

"For starters, information - what exactly do you know?"

"I have set out almost everything I know in my note on the subject. I think you've already read it. There's not much to add." She raised her eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling and leaned back in her chair, the slit in her dress sliding to the side, revealing a view of her mind-boggling legs.

Vim, who always had a weakness for blue-eyed brunettes, averted his eyes from her legs, constantly reminding himself that he was here to do business and Lady Lakita was not only five years older than him but married to the Deputy Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Kerith Dunnir-Asta.

"Perhaps the fact that he's been spending more time with his third cousin Baroness Kayrin Rionale lately, though they didn't get along before." Lady Asta continued, breaking her thoughtful silence. "There are rumors that they are having an affair, but I know for a fact that Lord Cassard continues to maintain a relationship with his old mistress and is not hiding that relationship from Kayrin. I think this is no more than a visible part of the alliance with the Rionale Family - but that is only a guess. It is also said that Lord Cassard is becoming increasingly reliant, and one might even say dependent, on his security specialist Taer Diltar. In my opinion, it is true and even natural." She smiled brightly again. "After all, he has lost his memory and is completely helpless."

"Who do you think is behind the assassination attempts?"

"I wrote about it in a note." Lakita sighed, taking a sip from her soap-bubble-thin glass. "I believe House Melato is behind this; they have much to lose by the alliance between Fyron and Bentar. They have the support of pro-Melato circles within House Bentar, as well as those who want to be able to elect the next ruling lord, hence the Bentar trail in the second assassination attempt. These forces have clearly found common ground. I think it will end with the physical removal of the current ruling lady and the election of a new pro-Melat ruling lord. Fyron can stop that from happening. So by killing Lord Cassard, they will have shot two finches at once - Fyron will be busy with internal wrangling, and the pro-Fyron party will lose their main trump card - the alliance through marriage to Cassard."

"Do you know the specific people behind it, too?" Vim asked cautiously.

Lady Lakita made a disgruntled grimace: "Unfortunately, only on the Bentar side, and they are clearly the doers, not the authors of the idea."

"Is there nothing else you can do for me? I was sure that such a trusted confidant, who is also an intelligent and perceptive but no less beautiful woman, clearly knew something that the Imperial Intelligence Service did not know."

Lakita met his awkward attempt with a cold look in her piercing blue eyes. She stared at him for a while, probably trying to understand how serious he was, and then laughed out loud:

"Major, you're an obnoxious flatterer. You can't do that. I can help you with something, though." She reached out a hand toward the small transparent table between the chairs, and under her palm flashed icons of the hidden info-block or cluster, and a huge screen wove itself into the center of the room. "Well, I thought of saving it for myself. But since I'm such a trusted confidant." She laughed again. "I'll give it to you."

On the screen, a pretty but tall and broad-shouldered girl dressed in a white uniform similar to his own but with scarlet stitching on the right sleeve was taking a briefcase of money. Judging by the hands of the man, his face was not visible because the camera was somewhere on his chest, probably in a button. The briefcase contained bundles of money but not in creds but in denarii. Vim was ready to swear there were at least a couple of million danarii in there. The girl's face was vaguely familiar:

"Is this by any chance Lord Cassard's security specialist?"

"Exactly." Nodded Lakita. "In fact, she's being bribed here, to the tune of five million danarii for the purchase of a planetary-class shield generator."

"Five million," Vim said involuntarily - the sum was fantastic.

"Yes." Lady Lakita nodded with a smile of understanding, "It seems Lord Cassard's well-known breadth of the heart extends to his Arm as well."

"And where did you get this record from?"

"One manager was caught cheating on military orders for the Empire. And I managed to convince him that cooperation was better than penal servitude."

"Perhaps that's exactly what I needed for a productive visit to Lord Cassard." Vim stretched thoughtfully without taking his eyes off the screen.
* * *

RiP · May 3, 2023

Chapter 20

* * *
The flyer ahead flashed sunlight on the silver plating and swerved sharply to the side, flashing a scarlet griffin on the hollow side. Alex craned his neck, glancing over the pilot's shoulder to see what was going on ahead, but at that moment, the engines of their vehicle shrieked and squealed, straps slamming into his shoulders, a sudden jerk which almost resulted in a tongue bite. The flyer tilted, went up, and to the right. In the long narrow window above the head of Taer sitting opposite, the white rectangle of the roof of the horned cargo platform flashed, which seemed to be the reason for the abrupt maneuver.

"I can only imagine how much the Retainer Service will write off after this trip..." she commented, sending back the loose strand.

Alex was about to say what he thought Retainer service was for, but the flyer shook sharply again, and he prudently covered his mouth for fear of losing his tongue.

In the side windows the silhouettes of blurred vehicles whizzed by, some of them able to react to a trio of flyers suddenly appearing in front of them - and the track was rattled by a thunderous howl of sirens. The pilots, when told that "the only thing you have to worry about is the maximum defense of the lord", go crazy. They ended up flying most of the way in some narrow tunnels, among houses, and on-ground equipment tracks, where it appeared flyers were forbidden to fly. At least there were no other flyers in sight - the other machines flew in a dignified manner about half a meter from the grey-steel surface of the track.

Alex glanced at Itori Lieutenant Vodin, who was driving their flyer. He sat unmoving and unblinking, his eyes wide, staring through the windshield, where the scarlet line of the route was winding, and an absent-minded smile wandered across his lips.

I bet it had nothing to do with safety - these maniacs just wanted to drive around town their whole lives, shitting on the rules, Alex thought grudgingly after another jerk caused the fliers to dive into some side tunnel.

Judging by the fact that just a few moments later, a train whizzed underneath at breakneck speed, it was the local underground tunnel.

"Are we sure we won't have too much trouble after this trip?" Alex asked, taking advantage of the fact that the flyers were going through the tunnel without making any sudden maneuvers, so he could speak without fear of biting his tongue.

"No," Taer shook her head. "Diplomatic immunity!" she shouted, trying to break through the howls of the engines that filled the cabin. "As with all high nobles, Copeira is considered neutral territory. The only thing that matters is that there are no casualties."

At this rate, I wonder if there won't be any casualties.

"What happens if we hit someone?"

Taer thought for a moment, raising her eyes to the ceiling:

"A lot of unnecessary noise and unnecessary fuss, but nothing serious," she finally answered. "There might be trouble if we hit a nobleman, but that's unlikely."

How delightful! Alex marveled. The such directness of impunity!

"And what prevents the nobles from racing like this all the time?" he asked aloud.

Taer, who must have had enough of shouting, quickly unbuckled her harness and, in one sliding step, crossed the cabin and sat down next to Alex:

"Clan usually gets in the way," she replied, buckling up. "There's always a lot of noise from races like this, and a young jackass can be pressured by older relatives. For example, by cutting back on the allowance."

"Is it work?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of young people who like to drive, but mostly at night and in deserted areas, so it usually doesn't cause too much trouble for anyone," she added, seeing the disapproving expression on Alex's face. "By the way, you, my lord, used to be a big fan of this kind of entertainment."

"Me?" Alex raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I didn't seem to drive the Flyer myself before the poisoning."

"You used to be a passenger with your close friend Marquise Turang, and she is a big racing fan."

"Good then! Don't worry, I'm sour from lack of sleep," he saw fit to explain. "And I don't really care how anyone has fun."

Taer shrugged and remained silent with a "yeah, and I just said that" look.

On another sharp manoeuvre, the flyer shook. And again. The sky flashed through the narrow window, and the vehicle turned and went upwards, making a steep arc. He felt the weight, like lead, weighing down on his chest and pulling his cheeks up toward his ears. Alex thought he was going dark in his eyes when suddenly it stopped abruptly.

"Can someone explain to me why we're so bent out of shape?" he was relieved that he was no longer squeezed in his chair and could change the uncomfortable subject. "Are there supposed to be compensators, or did they forget to turn them on?"

"This model was originally designed to transport miners and geologists," replied Taer. "They're not the pickiest of people, and they don't do a lot of maneuvering, either. Good compensators are very expensive, so there's a simpler model here - it only works well for one vector, and there's no, or delayed, compensation for the others.

"That's great! I'll have to give the pilots a hint later that I'm excited about them, but I really don't like it when lunch gets to my throat. Is there any way to change the compensator to a more advanced one?"

"It's easier to order a bespoke flyer," the "specialist" sniggered. "The Fyson, for example. But that would take three or four decades, minimum, and we needed the cars right away."

"Got it."

He turned again to the window, where the turquoise waves and the white sandy coastline were glimpsed - they had clearly left the city limits, and, therefore, Marquise Turang's estate was not very far away.

Alex tried to concentrate on his upcoming conversation with Isalaya. The conversation promised to be anything but easy...

So what was it you said about assassins? I could use a couple here.

Even though the motives of the lovely Marquise were clearer to him than, for example, those of Kay... - with women, one could never be entirely sure. He had to decide what to say to his "mistress" and what not to say. And - how to say it. But, as luck would have it, my thoughts were barely moving, my head was throbbing, and my face was slowly starting to burn.

Shit! How long have I been awake?

The last time he slept on the station before Voigrom, they went down to hunt in the afternoon, but it was still morning on the planet. Then there was an assassination attempt and an orbital evacuation, followed by a nine-hour jump to Copeira. As it turned out after landing, it was morning again on Copeira. Now the sun, which left a long golden trail on the surface of the water, was clearly approaching sunset.

I wonder what time it is? Six o'clock?

Alex glanced around the Spartan interior, trying to find anything resembling a clock, but to no avail.

I should get myself a watch or whatever they use here. One can go crazy with these different daily cycles!

He fumbled in his pocket for a jar of Fenote and looked at the light - there was less than half left. The flyer was moving smoothly, so Alex dropped the blue sparkly capsules onto his palm without fear. The capsules were soft and smooth as if made of transparent rubber, and there seemed to be liquid inside. Counting out seven pieces, he popped them into his mouth and chewed them with a thoughtful expression. The pensive expression was instantly replaced by a twisted grimace. His mouth felt like it was bursting with a frozen, wormwood-flavored concoction.

God! It's so disgusting!

"Nasty?" Taer watched Alex's actions with curiosity.

"It's bearable," he replied when the cramp in his cheekbones had finally subsided. "It makes my whole body brighten up, though."

Alex handed the jar to the "specialist", who, judging by her red eyes and staring into the void, could also use a more adequate state of mind.

With this lifestyle, we're both going to be hooked on this thing soon.

Taer, with a silent shrug, took a few capsules and chewed them with the same thoughtful look... with predictable results:

"Great shadows, what an abomination!" she shivered. "Are you sure you have to chew it?"

"No," Alex hummed. "You have to swallow them whole. I was just curious what would happen."

From the look on the "specialist's" face, though she was silent, she clearly thought something obscene about her lord.

"We should get some regular stimulants instead of eating this crap. Maybe it's not good for people who don't have amnesia at all," she finally said.

"Come on, it's perfectly sa..." Alex started to object but was interrupted by the intercom.

"Two minutes to Marquess Turang's estate, my lord," Vodin's quiet voice, thanks to the amplifiers, successfully overrode both the howling engines and the loud conversation. "You asked for a warning. We can give you a couple of tours around the manor if you'd like."

Alex glanced at Taer. After the Fenote, the "specialist" was clearly back to normal, and he felt much better himself:

"Thank you, Rokot, I think we're ready, so you're good to go," Alex almost shouted into the intercom.

The vehicles turned sharply and raced over the narrow canal that connected the coast with the estate without slowing down. The treetops flashed through the side window.

The main thing is that some three-hundred-year-old tree doesn't get torn down again.

A few minutes later, the flyers came to a sudden halt, hovering a palm high off the ground. The side door swung open, flooding the darkened interior with light, and Taer quickly ran a hand through her hair, making sure it wasn't disheveled, undid her restraints, and stepped out first, turning into a blurry white silhouette for a moment - spurred on by the general paranoia of the pilots who had not jammed the landing fields. After giving the 'specialist' a few seconds to look around, Alex came out next.

The small white pearl-like balls that lined the front porch rustled underfoot. A wave of air, lifted by the flyers, swept the cars to a halt, bringing with it gusts of warm wind, leaves plucked from the trees, and the smell of the sea.

After passing through the haze of the protective field, Alex got a chance to look around. The manor appeared to be a two-story house. It was small and probably tiny by local standards.

The ground floor, made of massive and deliberately uneven blocks of reddish stone, flowed seamlessly into the second, made of dark red timber. In places, there were no walls, giving way to huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The wide double doors of the front door were wide open, and in front of them on a wide, almost flat porch lined with huge white slabs, Isalaya and eight guards of honor from her "hand" were already waiting for them.

Isalaya was wearing a white and silver sparkling flowing gown with a high waist and a train. The short sleeves widened sharply at the elbows, turning into two long silvery ribbons that fell to the floor. A wide semi-circular neckline revealed a neck adorned with a chain with massive navy blue jewels, which ended in a bright red sparkling spindle-shaped stone resting on the chest.

"Alex!" Marquise exclaimed anxiously and hurried towards her, the ribbons of her sleeves fluttering in a silvery inversion trail behind her.

Once beside him, Isalaya hugged him impetuously, kissing him on the cheeks at the same time:

"I've already heard about the assassination attempt. That's terrible! Thank the Protectress, you're all right!"

"I'm glad as well," he smiled wryly, looking intently into Isalaya's face.

Her eyes widened and moved in quick jerks as if they were probing Alex's face, her lips twitched slightly and her cheeks flushed slightly. She literally radiated a sincere concern and concern that didn't sit well with her "predatory" features. It gave a rather strange impression.

Kind of like a distraught hawk. And yet her problems with accessing the accounts would disappear with my death.

But it was hard to believe it was just a "play" - she looked so natural and excited.

And insanely beautiful.

And if there's one thing Alex has learned from experience, you have to keep an eye on beautiful women.

Isalaya finally opened her arms and sighed in relief: "I'm sorry," she smiled embarrassedly. "I got so excited. I don't know why. Let's go inside now."

It was very spacious and bright inside - a simple wooden staircase without a banister led up to the first floor, where they ascended, leaving Taer on the ground floor in the company of the guards from Isalaya's Arm.

Alex sent his 'specialist' a look of apology goodbye, she was to be left alone with eight men who might not be treating her well after she'd smashed one of their knees. But taking her along wasn't the best idea either - hiring assassins was to be discussed and how Taer would react to the idea - he didn't know.

On the other hand, the guardsmen don't look aggressive, more like curious, Alex mentally excused himself as he followed Isalaya up the stairs. And Taer has the perfect opportunity to paint a picture of personal heroism during the attack.

"Well, where shall we go?" Marquise asked slyly. "Left or right?"

A wide, slightly rounded, wood-paneled wall ran down the middle, dividing the room into two parts - the right side appeared to be the bedroom (at least there was a huge bed covered with snow-white fluffy skins, patterned rugs on the floor, and a mysterious half-light filled the room), while the left side was filled with the light that came from the two absent walls. Right in the center was a large horseshoe-shaped sofa with a small table in the middle. A huge chandelier, similar to a column of thin triangular crystals, hung from the ceiling almost to the table. The light breeze made the crystals shake slightly, filling the room with a melodious chime.

"I think it's better to the left," Alex waved towards the sofa.

"So you're here on business," Isalaya sighed sadly, gesturing for him to take a seat.

She snapped her fingers and summoned a small holo-terminal that appeared in front of her, at chest level, in a cloud of golden sparks. She pressed a few keys and, with a wave of her hand, made it shatter into a cloud of weightless dust:

"What do you think of my place?" she asked as she sat down across from me.

"Very cozy," Alex admitted sincerely, receiving a grateful smile from Marquise in return. It was the first local space he'd ever visited that wasn't overwhelmingly cyclopean. "And the view is great," he nodded toward the small lagoon on the "inside" side of the manor.

Soon footsteps were heard from the staircase, and two pretty girls in brown shirts and pale knee-length skirts with turquoise aprons, accompanied by a small floating platform laden with various bottles and vases of fruit and snacks, came up to the first floor.

"You know," Isalaya said, eyeing the maids, who remained completely silent as they set the table. "I've been thinking a lot about your memory loss, and I don't think it's such a bad thing. You can see so many beautiful places all over again and so many interesting things to do for the first time. And it's a good reason to know if it was friendship or habit - we can literally get to know each other all over again," she looked intently into his eyes. "If that's what you want."

"How could I mind?" Alex smiled as naturally as possible.

"Do you already know who is behind the attempt on your life?" Isalaya asked after the maids had left, leaving the switched-on suppressor on the table.

Alex took out his mini suppressor and placed it on the table. Marquise raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing.

"Let's just say," Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I have several assumptions, and they seem close to reality to me."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"I don't think it will do any good," he shook his head. "So far, it's nothing more than my thoughts for internal use - it takes a long time to explain, and it's not much use. In short, I think there's another House behind this, something that seems to be connected to a possible marriage to Valerie Bellar."

Isalaya stretched out on the sofa and gave him a skeptical smile as if to say, 'if you don't want then don't talk'.

"All right," she grinned after a moment's hesitation. "What can I do to help?"

"Remember you told me about the so-called 'hired professionals' who should preferably be called off."

"I remember," Isalaya nodded. "Maybe I imagined it, but I think you made it clear that you didn't care."

"In light of what happened, I realized I was wrong," Alex reported with a sad smile. "Could you tell me more about that, who hired them, and how they should be called off."

...Or better yet, redirect.

"Well..." Marquise looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know much. It was you and Dimir. Mostly you. Dimir, through his contacts in the Security Service, found out who was doing this, and you had already negotiated and handed over the money."

"SS?!" Alex was stunned. Are they out of their minds here? "Er... is it safe to involve the SS in this sort of thing?

"No, of course," the shadow of a condescending smile slid across Isalaya's face. "But no one involved the SS - Dimir, thanks to his connections, has had access to very secret SS lists. And they, you know, try to keep an eye on professionals of that kind."

"And what kind of professionals are these?"

"I have no idea. I only know the middleman with whom you negotiated terms and to whom you gave the money. Baroness Istar."

"Er... you mean Lady Faith Baroness Istar?" Alex clarified. Marquess had managed to surprise him twice in one conversation.

"Well, yes," Marquess nodded with an 'it's obvious' look. "As far as I know, there are no other Baronesses Istar."

"It's just that what I've seen doesn't seem to fit with this kind of activity," Alex admitted. Maybe - just a disguise, though? Hiding where it's brighter? "How much money did we give her?"

"Four million danarii and the same amount afterward. Besides, it's not like she's doing this on her own. Despite her conflict with the Shisrodak clan, she still has plenty of connections to the Cartels, and they have specialists of that sort."

"I meant the secrecy," Alex explained. "There's always a crowd of SS around her, and generally speaking, she doesn't seem to be a low-key person."

"You know," Isalaya snickered. "I've never been particularly fond of Lady Faith, but one thing about her is that she's a real noblewoman of the old school. You know, the "four rules of nobility"... Well, she is, and if she's got her word, you can be pretty sure she'll keep a secret. And, then... The SSs only accompany her during public appearances and planet descents. There are none on her ship, and that's where you met."

"I see." Alex had no idea what the 'four rules' were. "And how do you envisage the 'recall' procedure?"

"Very simple. You need to meet Lady Faith again and persuade her to call off the 'specialists'."

"Simple indeed, how I didn't realize it myself," Alex hummed.

He remembered very vividly at that moment the scene of the beating of the journalists. Baroness Istar gave him the impression of an absolute badass.

How, one wonders, is one to negotiate with such a person?

"I'm sure everything will go perfectly." Isalaya reached forward and stroked his arm encouragingly. "After all, it's not like we're going to revoke their payment. You could say they'll get money for not doing the work it sounds like a great deal to me. For them. I can go with you if you like," she added, stretching out on the sofa again.

"I don't think it will have any effect on the negotiations."

Alex watched the play of sunlight on the surface of the waves thoughtfully. He sat like that for a while, then shook himself off and looked at Isalaya more cheerfully, even enthusiastically this time:

"And how do I contact her?"

"I don't know." She smiled back. "Maybe your Office knows? Or Taer, or maybe the data was left in your communicator or in the cluster. All I know is that you've been in contact with her under the guise of gathering information about your ancestors. Although your meetings weren't advertised anyway."

"I see," Alex sighed and got up from the sofa, patting himself on the knee. "We'll keep looking. Anyway, thanks for your help."

"You're welcome." Isalaya got up from the sofa, too. She stepped closer and looked into his eyes. "Alex, are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you?"

"You've already helped me a lot!" he assured her.

She lowered her eyes and ran her hand across his chest with a somewhat distracted expression on her face:

"I want you to know that I'm afraid for you. What if you're unlucky a third time? You can't be lucky all the time, can you? You're not ascended, are you?" She asked, looking into his eyes again with such pain in her eyes and such a pitying expression on her face that Alex's first impulse was to hug her and tell her that he really was "ascended" and that everything would be all right.

"I'll manage," he finally managed to get out. "Everything will be all right."

"Are you sure? After all, I can hide you until things settle down," she smiled sadly. "I'm a big expert at that."

"I'm sure!" Alex nodded as firmly as possible.

Just rebook one lord along with the professor, and all will be well!

He smiled at Isalaya (with what he hoped was a confident smile) and headed for the stairs - he still had to figure out how to contact Lady Faith and convince her to cancel one order. And accept another.

As he approached the 'dividing' wall, something hot came around his back - Isalaya knew how to move completely silently when she wanted to.

"Did you really expect to slip away so easily?" She cooed playfully in my ear. "I've forgotten everything, and I can show you the whole estate all over again."

"Well, I don't even know..." Alex hesitated. "I had hoped to make an appointment for today..."

"I've been planning this all by myself." Isalaya ignored my objections and didn't stop hugging me. "This is my pride, and you're about to leave, and it's not clear if you're coming back! No! I won't let you go so easily!" she said firmly. "For instance..." She turned him toward the bedroom and pointed to the huge bed:"

"You know how fluffy it is..." the huge, predatory cat purred in my ear. "Do you want to flop?"

"Well, unless..." he smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. "Only if it's very quiet, or the evil Taer will come and shoot again."

Isalaya's eyes flashed back at him, and she suddenly but gently pecked him on the ear.
* * *

RiP · May 4, 2023

perfectgeneral said: ↑

A white silhouette seems odd. Outline?
The author doesn't seem to understand that rape is a violent, not sexual thing. The urge is probably different, not met by sex bots and employees. Which is kind of disturbing/disturbed. I can only hope that they are outside personal experience and speculating.
Click to expand...

Person, be more careful with stuff. You're mixing up the threads.

RiP · May 6, 2023

Chapter 21

* * *
"Your Lordship! Baroness Istar's yacht confirms the docking request," whispered the captain of the Istal from somewhere behind me.

Alex reluctantly looked away from the screen and turned around:

"So dock!" With a slight irritation, he replied.

The captain's manner of asking his permission for every occasion was beginning to piss him off. The endless "What shall we do, Your Grace?" questions were only paused in hyperspace.

"Yes, Your Lordship!" The "troublemaker" nodded courteously and quickly headed back to the command gallery to "execute".

Though, perhaps, the captain is simply demonstrating his utmost respect for my Lordship in this way. Indeed, he can't live without my wise guidance. Or maybe it's in their code of conduct: "If you have any questions, please address them to your lordship personally".

On the screen was the destination of their short voyage - Baroness Istar's yacht. Close-up and enlarged. Through the observation window, the yacht looked like a small, bright star - exactly like thousands of others, moving around and stationery.

"It's a strange yacht, isn't it?" Alex shared his doubts.

It was a shark in the shape of a wrinkled gray yacht, with a huge cube of engine block instead of a tail. Along the side in big jagged letters, as if painted in red paint, was inscribed "Gryzlik" - must have been the name of this proud ship. The drawing at the bottom of the bow, of a huge grinning toothy mouth, was done in the same sloppy manner as the inscription on the side and only made the ship look even more like a shark.

Like a cheeky, ruffled shark.

And what it didn't look like at all was a yacht.

"It's not a yacht," Taer replied, not taking her mesmerized gaze off the screen. "It's a disarmed frigate. Well, at least it should be disarmed," she added somewhat uncertainly.

"Is it only Baroness Istar, as the Emperor's close friend, allowed to use frigates instead of yachts, or can ordinary nobles join in as well?" Alex inquired, counting on the fact that Taer, with her "navy" background, should be aware of the matter.

"In general, this use of old military equipment is allowed, but it is rarely used because each ship needs separate permission from a special vehicle commission. It's such a hassle that most people prefer not to get involved. Besides, inside, a frigate is much less comfortable than a yacht. "

"By the way, what kind of frigate was it?"

"It sounds crazy, but it looks exactly like the Furious. Although I definitely remember being told in an introductory lecture on modern warships that this class was still on the design machines. As such, the events of the HV-Show are all fiction."

Alex raised an eyebrow in interest:

Some kind of famous ship?

"It's a Holo Show," Taer brushed me off. "I didn't see much of it when it started. I was getting ready to join the Guard, and after that, it was no longer about the Holo."

The ships drew nearer, and Baroness Istar's yacht was already clearly visible through the panoramic window. Soon the Istal, which was even slightly larger than the frigate, was "lying on her side" and began to move carefully under the belly of the Gryzlik, aligning the docking windows.

"Your Lordship," the Captain leaned over the gallery railing. "The docking will be completed in about a minute."

Releasing the Captain with a wave of his hand, Alex took the sleek leather briefcase containing the "arguments" from his chair and, accompanied by Taer, headed quickly towards the large airlock door.

"Still, it's not a good idea," Taer said nervously. "I mean, from a security point of view. Meeting Baroness Istar when it's just the two of us and in her territory..."

"Well, let's hope she doesn't kill us on the spot, and we get away with minor damage," Alex tried to quip, who was a little nervous after watching the footage of Lady Faith.

The beating of journalists was not the most brutal episode at all.

"It's unlikely she'll kill us," Taer agreed. "But we might come back in the same shape as those poor souls from the 'resisted' transport." She added with a grim smile.

Alex shrugged but said nothing. Twenty haggard poor souls with severed legs were an uncommonly unpleasant and memorable sight. Especially as the unknown cameraman, probably to shock the venerable public, paid a great deal of attention to the spot where the gray uniform trousers were interrupted by a scorched stripe and transitioned to a dark red gore. After this footage went viral through the news channels, the vast majority of ships encountering Lady Faith's small pirate flotilla preferred to surrender without a fight. For obvious reasons, no one wanted to become the next group of 'shorteners'.

There were persistent rumors that the Baroness personally chopped the legs of the prisoners, for which she was nicknamed the "High Lady". This information, along with three video recordings and the baroness' communicator code, Alex received when he was asked by the cabinet "cluster" to find "all available information on Baroness Istar". And while the veracity was in many cases questionable, the picture did not paint a most appetizing one. The one virtue most sources acknowledged for Lady Faith was that the Baroness always kept her word. And that gave one a certain amount of hope.

They arrived at the airlock door, where a technician in a white yacht crew uniform was waiting for them. Taer interrupted his attempt to open the door with a gesture, unbuttoned the bottom clasps of her tunic, and fiddled with the info box of her personal shield belt, which was hidden under her clothing.

"So you're saying that the high nobles used to be allowed to have their own battleships?" It occurred to Alex that it would be much cozier to negotiate with Lady Faith by flying in, say, a dreadnought rather than a yacht.

He would fly around so unobtrusively and we would have a conversation...

"It's still possible," the "specialist" sniggered, not raising her head. "Just without the hyperdrive."

"What's the point?"

"Well..." Taer sighed, buttoning up. "A ship without hyperdrive isn't what you'd call a fully-fledged warship, but it makes sense. Planetary defense and intra-system patrolling," she squatted in front of Alex, pulling up his shirt as she tried to do so. "It's useful to have ships in case of conflict among the noble clans of the same domain... or an attack from some external enemy or unrest among the commoners. Then again, many buy fighters or stormtroopers, and they can also be transported to the site by civilian freighter in case of emergency."

"I see." Alex tucked his shirt in. "Do I have anything like that?"

"No, before the poisoning, all your armed forces consisted of me alone." The 'specialist' smirked as she stood up. She ran her hand over her tunic once more, checking for anything sticking out, and waved to the technician - "open up!"

The airlock door hissed faintly to the side, and they stepped out into the transparent tube of the intake port, where it was quiet and frosty. Ahead of them, the square aperture of the airlock port of the Gryzlik glowed.

There was no one in sight to greet them. Alex glanced at Taer and shrugged at her silent question, We're not proud - we'll go in ourselves when we have to. As they approached, it became clear that there was no floor beyond the airlock, just beyond the opening was a steep well, the opposite wall of which was illuminated by long and narrow glowing panels. Freezing in front of the well, Alex noticed an inscription above the opening, made in red, slightly faded paint: "Warning! Opposite vectors of gravity!". Above the inscription was a diagram showing how to overcome such a predicament when picking up passengers and cargo. Alex cautiously peered through the opening.

So the outer wall of the well with the lights is the corridor ceiling and the inner wall is the floor.

"Don't be afraid, Your Highness!" A man's voice came from deep within the well. "Go ahead. I'll catch you and your companion up here if you need me. You will not fall!"

Taer shrugged and, keeping the same nonchalant expression, stepped down, plunging almost plumb into the well. With her arms slightly outstretched, she touched the inner wall of the well, and after taking two quick steps to slow down, she stopped.

Alex looked longingly at the specialist who had run so gracefully up the sheer wall and sighed heavily.

OK, let's think of it as a parachute jump, just stepping into the hatch and not thinking about anything.

He stepped into the well. A moment later, his body signaled with horror that instead of falling honestly further down the manhole, he was falling against the inner wall, and his feet missed it, and he had every chance of flopping on his ass. Fortunately, at the last moment, just before his heel touched the metal floor, he was gently picked up by the shoulders and brought to his feet.

He turned around and was about to thank Taer but literally choked on his words...

Four pairs of beady little eyes glinted faintly red right beside his face. Alex recoiled involuntarily - the second squire of Lady Faith's without his ceremonial cloak made an even more intimidating impression.

The creature's head was about his chest, but the "elbows" of the upper pair of massive half-bent arms, which, like the rest of his body, were encased in a shiny dark blue shell, towered about half a meter above him. All four legs were also bent, holding the spindly body on the very floor. How much the squire would tower above his surroundings if he decided to straighten up was anyone's guess. He was wearing something more akin to an eight-fingered gauntlet or pouch. A garment of light and rather thick material resembling white foam covered his entire body from the base to the first joint on his legs and arms. It ended at the chest, exposing the shoulders and neck. There were holsters attached to all four legs in the "hip" area, from which the massive, intricately shaped handles protruded.

"Um... I'd like to see Lady Faith." Alex finally broke the uncomfortable pause with a resurgence.

"The captain is waiting, Your Excellency. Follow me."

The squire displayed a pleasant male baritone and moved forward down the corridor, leaving the already visibly tense Taer with the difficult choice of stepping aside and allowing Baroness Istar's squire to get between her and the "guarded object", or staying put and forcing the squire to "squeeze" past her. Choosing the second, the 'specialist' pressed herself against the wall and, placing her right hand on the hilt of her blaster, waited for the squire to squeeze past and followed him, managing to send Alex a very expressive 'I told you so' look.

After walking through the narrow intake corridor of the Gryzlik, they took the lift and entered the "habitable" area of the ship.

First came Lady Faith's squire, clawing quietly across the metal floor. Next was Taer, who kept her hand on the hilt of her blaster. Completing the walk was Alex. He tried his best not to twist his head or stare, reminding himself that he was Lord and had to keep his face.

There was plenty to watch: only five of the two dozen crewmembers encountered on the way were human; the rest displayed an incredible variety of shapes, colors, and coatings. Taer was indifferent to this celebration of life and its forms, but His Lordship had to make a considerable effort not to look like a child in a zoo.

They appeared to be passing through the local equivalent of a barracks or crew quarters; at least the entire central part of the room was occupied by three bunk beds, and along the wall were rows of tall and narrow lockers. The bulk of the barracks' inhabitants were found in the far corner in a small, tight group. From the familiar clatter of dice and loud shouts, the crew was engaged in a frenzy of gambling. As they approached, the game ceased in an instant, but the players did not disperse. Instead, they ate Lady Faith's squire with adoring smiles. He let out a grunt but didn't say anything, brushed past them, and the players immediately returned to their work. Alex could even see the dice - two pairs of multicolored octahedrons: some rather burly subject with yellow feline eyes and dark green skin had just thrown out black and red, which caused another burst of excited cheers.

So, to the cheers of the crew, they entered another small corridor that ended in a massive double door with a half-faded inscription: "Com. Gal."

Their attendant, deftly wielding his long claws on a four-toed hand, typed some combination on a small panel embedded in the wall beside the door, which opened with a low whirring sound.

"... and hint to those 'fireflies' that the Baroness is thinking of taking them next golden season." Lady Faith, sitting with her back to the door so that only part of her head, gleaming platinum hair, was visible from behind the high back of the semicircular armchair, came crashing in through the open door.

The Baroness's squire made an indefinite wave of the hand, which could be interpreted as "follow me", and in one long stride, he climbed a slight rise and stepped inside, stopping not far from the Baroness's chair. Alex and Taer followed his example and went in after him, also climbing the stairs in one step just in case.

The semi-circular room of the Com. Gal was small, the walls covered by impersonal light grey panels, some of which were slightly sooty around the perimeter as if something was burning inside. There were massive airlock doors in the center of the right and left walls, the low ceiling covered by the same panels interspersed with long flat lights. Along the opposite semi-circular wall ran rows of screens and massive consoles. Tall armchairs of milky-yellowish plastic stood beside them, empty except for two. In one, a gray-skinned creature lay sleeping with his head on the console, while in the other, the baroness's other squire was snuggled in his tail, his lower legs wrapped around his own.

Swirl, sticking out its long pink tongue with eagerness, was pawing at the buttons of the console with its upper paws, its middle paws clutching something like a small joystick. The screen in front of the whirlwind pulsed and glowed and exploded, apparently a game or training program of some sort.

"...Since they've decided it's perfectly safe to cheat and play 'captain' here, let them sit in the local 'university' - maybe they'll learn something." The baroness continued.

Her chair was in the center of the room on a small platform, slightly elevated above the floor. In front of her was a pair of consoles in a semi-circle and a small, narrow table with two terminals, above which hung a holographic screen.

"But, Baron..." her interlocutor, a broad-shouldered man with grey eyes and short-cropped blond hair, tried to object. He wore a shabby and smudged orange waistcoat of thick foam-like material. His right shoulder and visible part of his arm were covered in chrome metal - either protection or a prosthetic. The tanned face, with its chopped features, hard mouth, and narrow lips, had a tattoo of a scarlet wavy line resembling a vertical squiggle. It began above his right eyebrow and went down to the middle of his cheekbone.

"That's it! Later!" Lady Faith interrupted him. "I have guests..."

She touched a few buttons on the remote control in front of the chair, and the holographic screen with the distressed big man disappeared. The Baroness twisted in her chair, turning it towards her guests. She was wearing a simple, slightly worn gray and blue jumpsuit carelessly unbuttoned to her chest. Beneath it were a thin, lusciously curvy white tank top and a massive gold chain with a medallion in the shape of a rising griffin. The jumpsuit was cinched by a broad black belt holding weapons, prominent among which were two large phasers holstered along the thigh and the delicate handles of swords. Lady Faith also wore the now familiar massive bracelets of gray metal and a similar hoop encircling her forehead. The Baroness glared at the squire who had brought her guests, and he stepped forward:

"Baroness, their nobility Lord Cassard and his companion come to you."

"Good to see you, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith smiled warmly as she rose from her chair and approached Alex. "I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the door, but there have been some slight, but..." she grimaced. "A personal problem that needs my attention."

Alex, not knowing how best to respond, just smiled understandingly and shook his hands - it's a known thing.

"By the way, Bar," the Baroness turned to her squire. "Fetch a couple of chairs for our guests. I may give the impression of an inhospitable hostess," she continued, waiting until Bar, quietly clawing his claws, exited the room. "It's all rather sudden, and I don't get many visitors." Lady Faith shook her hands in regret. "By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I would like to discuss with you something related to my distant ancestors. Preferably in private." Alex added, casting a look of doubt on the subject, napping at the console.

"Strange," the Baroness frowned. "Last time we met, we had already discussed this in detail, and you, lord, learned everything you wanted to know about your ancestors."

"The thing is, after the poisoning, I've had certain memory lapses," Lord Cassard explained. "So once again, I would like to ask for your help in this matter."

"Oh," Lady Faith raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd lost your memory."

She looked around the room with an absent-minded glance, walked to the airlock door to the right of her chair, and typed the code on the panel that came up - the door hissed softly upwards, revealing the stairs:

"Let's go up to my place, it will be more comfortable."

The stairs were short and ended in a massive ceiling hatch, which, after a short manipulation by the Baroness, opened directly into space.

Above, just above their heads, flooding everything with red light, hung a huge purple nebula like a scarlet cloud, streaked with black threads and studded with glittering droplets of stars. To the left, the edge of Copeira could be seen. It was nighttime on the planet, and the dark disk was covered in a golden web of night lights. There was a low rustle from above, like a distant whisper or the sound of a gentle breeze in the leaves.

That must be the "whispering of the stars". Alex froze involuntarily for a few moments.

Lady Faith, not at all impressed with the view, waited until the hatch was fully open and then rose, making way for Taer and the slightly embarrassed Lord Cassard. Upstairs was a room that must have served as an observation gallery, not at all a direct exit into space, covered by a force field, as Alex had first thought. The light gray wall panels, which formed a perfect circle, ended at about waist height, passing into a continuous, seamless, transparent dome. The room was initially quite spacious and cluttered with things. The piles of large crates of dark green plastic were interspersed with long, flat cases of the same material, on top of which was a pile of clothes, from overalls to what looked suspiciously like an evening gown.

In the center of the room, a huge square bed hovered a palm away from the floor, the pale purple sheets and blanket were crumpled, and one of the long round pillows was lying beside it on the floor. A huge dark blue spacesuit stood beside the bed, and the door on the back, formed by the satchel that had been pushed aside, was wide open, giving a view of the white interior lining. Leaning against the suit was a monstrous something resembling a large-caliber double-barreled machine gun with an under-barrel automatic rocket launcher. A nearby crate was open, where the pointy noses of some projectiles, assembled in drums, gleamed. Just above the bed hung a small hologram in the shape of an elongated cloud, which was pierced by a complex system of glowing intersecting lines - a map or plan.

The Baroness walked over to a terminal nestled on one of the drawers and, switching off the hologram, sat down on the edge of the bed:

"Have a seat." She waved towards the crates. And seeing the doubts on the guests' faces, she added. "Courage, of all the things you can break, there's nothing here I'll regret."

Tossing aside some overalls of very thick fabric, Alex settled comfortably on the long case, and with one eye invited Taer to sit beside him, but she remained standing. She must be worried about her snow-white trousers.

"Give it to me straight, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith continued. "What's the matter, and what do you want? No wiggling - it only irritates me."

Alex nodded to Taer and she took a small suppressor from her trouser pocket and placed it on one of the nearby crates.

"I'd like to change the targets of my previous order," Alex began, ignoring the Baroness' condescending chuckle that appeared at the sight of the suppressor.

"What exactly does 'changing targets' mean?" Lady Faith, judging by her unhappy grimace, was very unhappy with the start of the conversation.

"It means I want to put my first order on hold and redirect it," Alex chose his words carefully, making sure it was clear on the one hand and not something to pick on on the other.

"What?" The Baroness burst out. "Lord Cassard, this is not a couture parlor. You do not order a suit here to decide in the process of sewing that you need "the same, but green"! Do you have any idea how much work has already been done and how many people have ALREADY been involved?" she raised her voice. "You can't go back on it!"

"I'm not suggesting a back on," he objected, "it's just that the situation has drastically changed, and in the new circumstances achieving the old goals is not only pointless but harmful. Your people should simply stop doing this case."

"Just stop?!" Lady Faith jumped up.

She froze, hovering menacingly over Alex, but after a moment or two, she let out a long sigh and sat back down, either because of the forward motion of Taer or because she was in control of herself.

"Yes," Alex replied firmly, "just stop and switch to another target."

"The first time we met," the Baroness began wearily, "you gave the impression of being a serious man, Lord Cassard. But now," she shook her head dejectedly, "you sound like a childish babble. Do you have any idea how such operations are prepared and how long it takes to introduce and prepare? People are already on the ground, and there is almost no communication with them."

"In my opinion, there's a pretty big difference between 'almost' and 'not'." Alex rested his fingers on his chin thoughtfully. "If there is a connection, then the men must be withdrawn. If it is within your power, Baroness Istar."

"And you want me to withdraw diligently deployed groups and reassign them to a new target?" Lady Faith squinted.

"Yes," Alex nodded, but seeing that the Baroness was about to unleash another scathing reprimand, he raised his hands conciliatorily, "but I'm not suggesting that your people do the job twice for the same money. These are two different contracts. Yes, the first one had to be canceled because of the changed situation, but you still have an advance, and nobody demands it back. Your people just need to stop doing this case. I think it's a great deal," Alex smiled, "you got an advance, and yet you don't have to do anything. And the second contract is a completely separate case with a separate payment."

"Withdrawal of embedded groups is an additional cost..." the Baroness brooded.

"Which is what the advance is intended to cover," Alex countered. "I am more than sure that a professional like you have factored these risks into the amount of the advance."

"All right," she smirked, "let's say I can call off the teams. And then what? Who do you have to kill this time?"

At the word "kill," Taer made a choking sound, and Alex crinkled involuntarily-his desire not to leave direct evidence was clearly not supported by the Baroness. He remembered that he had not explained to Taer the purpose of his meeting with Lady Fayth and was unsure of her reaction. He could not think of a better way to put it.

"Well, don't be embarrassed, like a Synths preacher in a dockside pub," smiled the Baroness, seeing the sour expression on Alex's face, "I prefer to call things by their proper names."

"I'm more concerned about how accusatory the possible record will look," he admitted. "And the words themselves don't embarrass me."

"If I wanted to set you up, I would have enough evidence without those words. If your surroundings are not reliable, then such caution will not save you either."

Alex shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent look: "Your surroundings can be unreliable."

"If my surroundings were unreliable," Lady Faith grinned, "I'd have been dead long ago. So tell me directly who you need to kill and on what terms."

"Well, okay," Alex sighed, "I need your men to kill two people. Lord of the House of Melato Asparo Velasque and Professor Fayyor Takkar of the University of Tallana. I offer two million danarii for each. Two million in advance, accordingly, and two more after execution.".

"Is that so?" The baroness arched an eyebrow. "Are you already determining my rates, Lord Casssard?"

"I'm not encroaching on your privileges, Lady Faith, it's just the most I'm willing to pay."

Alex unzipped the briefcase and, opening the first compartment, spilled the contents next to him. Bundles of dark, gold-embossed cards, intertwined with a blue ribbon in the middle, spilled onto the case with a quiet clatter, forming a small pile.

"To be honest, I think I'm overpaying," Alex looked at the pile of danarii with a wry expression, "but I've always found professionalism to be worth paying a little extra for it."

Either the compliment or the two million denarii had a positive effect on the baroness:

"What other information do you have about this lord and the professor?" The baroness smiled.

"Unfortunately, practically none," Alex sighed with genuine sadness.

"Then I won't be able to give a definite answer right now," Lady Faith informed him as she stood up.

She walked over to the terminal and touched one of the buttons:

"Bar, Urick, Tlan, come up to me."

She turned to her guests again:

"I need to get some advice, and then I'll tell you if I can help you or not. I don't think it will take more than half an hour - if you're curious, you can take a look around the ship. Bar will show you around. Or you can wait on your yacht."

"I'd love to see the ship," Alex hastened to assure me.

He was curious, of course, but mostly he wanted to buy time. Throughout his conversation with Lady Faith, his "specialist" stood there as a statue, her eyes dilated with horror. To be alone with her on the yacht was to start explaining things, and he had not yet figured out how best to do that.

Damn! I should have talked to her beforehand!

Meanwhile, the hatch to the Baroness's room swung open, letting in a picturesque trio, led by Lady Faith's squire. Following Bar, a pitch-black man in a stained orange overall with straps and massive boots like ski boots came up. He was short and rather thin. There was a large pocket in the chest area of his overalls, where the top of the infobox was sticking out.

The last man to come in, probably for contrast, was a tall man with unnaturally white skin, charcoal-black hair, and almond-shaped black eyes. He wore a deep blue uniform with a stand-up collar embellished with abundant gold embroidery, beginning at the neck and reaching down to the epaulets. The same color trousers with gold edging were tucked into low black boots, polished to a mirror shine. Two eight-pointed stars, one with a bright red stone in the center and the other with a blue one, and an oddly shaped cross gleamed with metal on the left side of his uniform. A white-gloved left hand rested on a hilt with a curved handguard to which a scarlet ribbon was tied, a long lacquered wood scabbard bound by metal rings. A face with perfect features radiated an inhuman calm and majesty.

A strange personality. Not a man, but a statue. Somehow he doesn't fit in with the general relaxed-spitting atmosphere on the ship.

Lady Faith moved to meet those who entered.

"Bar, show our guests around the ship," she said, pointing to Alex and Taer.

"What do you want to see, Your Excellency?" The squire inquired as they descended into the Com. Gal.

"Um... I don't know," Alex stretched out, more concerned with his upcoming conversation with Taer and what decision the Baroness would make.

He was hardly worried about Lady Faith, though - judging by the twinkle in her eyes, she genuinely loved money. So Alex had tactfully left the advance in her room just in case, reckoning that the sight of the slide of denarii would encourage the conferees to make the right decision. There was the risk that Lady Faith might decide that simply taking the money and throwing Lord Cassard out was more profitable. But that was a risk Alex had decided on beforehand - otherwise, he might not go.

"I think you'll be pleased to see our Sanctuary of Ryan," Bar suggested and moved forward, tapping softly on the metal with his claws.

After about five minutes of walking through endless narrow passages, locks, and staircases, they found themselves in a small room strikingly similar to an ordinary shooting gallery. In a corner to the right of the entrance was a small pedestal made of dark stone, similar to an altar, and decorated with scarlet ribbons. On its top was a pattern in the shape of an eight-pointed star, with a small flame fluttering in its center. On the wall above the altar, just above human height, was a mask of dark material. Behind it - either a fire too or some kind of fluctuating light source - it was as if a bright orange flame was beating in the slits in place of the eyes. The mask was tilted slightly downwards so that it felt as if it was looking down from above. The overall impression was rather eerie.

"We've got a shooting range and a gun room," Bar explained. "We wanted to put it in the wardroom, like on the flagship, but then we thought it might be more appropriate near the guns." He stepped up to the altar and gently tidied up a couple of tangled ribbons. "This is a true live fire, we had to rework the ventilation system on purpose, and behind the face of the Incarnate Flame, we have a capsule with a petal from the Fire Throne.

"That's nice," Alex smiled as if on duty and turned to the "specialist," who hadn't said a word the whole time. "What do you think, Taer?"

"Very nice indeed," she nodded with an equally officious smile. "I didn't know Lady Faith was a Secondarist."

"No, Baroness is not a believer," the squire sighed visibly. "But I think when Ir'Ryan incarnates, the flames will accept a fighter like her."

"Lady Faith is certainly over three thousand years old," Taer smiled after all. "But catching the Incarnation of the Flames in person probably isn't even possible for her."

"The Sisters say the incarnation is near," the squire objected. "And there has been a war recently."

"The True Fire Church has been saying 'Incarnation is near' for the last four thousand years," the 'specialist' shrugged. "But it's still not incarnating. And there have been wars before."

"Were that wars?" He waved his paw. "The War of the Guilds, yes, it spread all over the Empire. And then..." He paused for a moment. "The Baroness is summoning us," he announced and moved toward the exit.

"How did you find out?" Alex, who had been here for more than two weeks for the first time in more than two weeks to talk to an "alien"... and THAT kind of alien.

"I have an implanted com. It's not easy to use," he showed Alex a clawed paw that looked more like a double claw.

After escorting them upstairs to the Baroness's room, Bar stayed downstairs. Lady Faith alone was waiting for them upstairs, while the black guy with the infoblock and the imposing 'general' was already gone.

"You didn't give me a deadline," the Baroness immediately took the bull by the horns as soon as the entrance hatch closed behind Alex and Taer.

"As soon as possible. The sooner you get them, the better."

"Okay," she smiled as she approached Alex. "But since you demand speed, there won't be any time to infiltrate, and there won't be any way to make it look like an accident."

"As you wish," he shrugged. "As long as there's no evidence linking their deaths to me."

"Well, in that case, I can help you, Lord Cassard," Lady Faith held out her hand.

Alex cast a glance at the case where the money was lying - it was gone:

"I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding on these matters!" he smiled back, shaking her hand. "I can only hope for your word and professionalism."

Ice glinted in the Baroness's eyes, and the handshake turned steely:

"Unlike the current House of Fyron, not only do I remember why the Baron title used to be above all others, but I am proud of it. The Baron's word is unbreakable!"

"Her grip feels like it's been squeezed," Alex complained, kneading his arm as he and Taer walked down the clear tube of the intake port back to the Istal.

"Her Ladyship Baroness Istar has had both her arms replaced with biomechanical prostheses," Taer said in an icy tone.

"Made it to yourself to hit harder?"

"No, there was a burst heat pipe. The jet should have hit Baron Lormire Cassard. Lady Faith pushed him away and lost both her arms in the process. The level of medicine in her time did not allow her hands to be restored after such a severe injury."

"Oh," Alex said with a smirk. "And how do you know that?"

Taer was embarrassed for a moment and then answered in a less impassive tone:

"I saw it in the Holo series Eternal Love."

"Ah... I see. Can't the hands be restored now too?"

"It's possible. But Lady Faith said no."

The captain and two of the crew were waiting outside the yacht's airlock door, as usual.

As soon as Alex let them go, Taer came at him, throwing lightning bolts from her eyes but with a nonchalant mask on her face:

"Your Lordship, don't you think you've been a little rash? The attack on the lords of the Empire is being investigated by the Imperial High Tribunal!" she hissed.

She has a talent, Alex admired, for saying the words 'Your Lordship' in a way that makes it sound like 'you vile little shit!

"It seems," he agreed, "what do you propose to do?"

Taer opened her mouth, but Alex didn't let her say a word:

"Calling Countess Durlurl for help? So she's been incapacitated by the SS for an unknown period of time. Now what, sit around and act like a target at a shooting range? No, that tactic almost got Dudo killed. I'd hate to think a man was on the verge of death because of me. Who's next? You? Me? Someone else?"

Alex was silent, but when Taer tried to object again, he made one last "killing" argument that he had been thinking about the whole time they had been looking around the ship:

"They started first."
* * *

perfectgeneral · May 7, 2023

All this assumes that his counter move will finish it.

RiP · May 9, 2023

Chapter 22

* * *
Three silvery droplets of flyer, rhythmically turning scarlet in time with the flashes of the Iastal's navigation lights, detached themselves from the dark bulk of the yacht and plunged, instantly disappearing into the golden glow of the Copeira's night side.

The thrust generators were switched off, and the machines, having rolled up their gravitational mirrors, simply tumbled down in almost total silence. Taer deliberately sat on the same side as the lord but two seats away from him and now, avoiding meeting his gaze, stared out the narrow window above the opposite side seats. As the flyers descended lower and lower, the bright arc of the horizon, already tinged with the gold of distant dawn, gradually straightened and faded, dissolving into the dark blue velvet of night. But Sain Lieutenant, immersed in somber musings, remained unconcerned by this beauty.

What an idiot, for what shadows did I get involved in all this? If I'd stayed in the Navy, I'd have been a Peleng Captain on some patrol Corvette by now. Or, with any luck, one of the Triumphs. But no, she was in trouble... And what a mess she'd been in. An assassination attempt on a Lord of the Empire!

She glanced at the lord, who was sitting staring out the window, obviously unaware of what he had just gotten himself into.

...And who did you get involved with? With that madwoman! Even if the High Tribunal finds out, what does she care? The Senate would still be considering whether to put the question of removing her immunity to a vote, how she would pirate in the FEZ again and if they did remove her immunity, she would also begin to prowl around in Imperial space. That's all. And we...?

The "we" was silenced by a nasty little voice in the back of her mind, which reminded her that she was not to be questioned in any case - she was bound by oath to testify against the Lord and was not responsible for her actions, let alone the actions of the Lord.

Besides, I have five hundred thousand denarii on my desk, and the account allocated for procurement is at my disposal...

Then Taer, with an audible squeak, froze in horror... How could she even think such a thing? She hastily dismissed the idea, and she shuddered in disgust.

No, I won't fall for that!

Taer glanced at Alex, a little frightened, wondering if he had noticed the change in her face. But he was still staring enthusiastically out the window.

Well, he could at least have consulted me! There was a look of resentment in Taer's eyes again. I am, after all, his Blade.

Lord, who must have sensed her gaze, turned and looked at her questioningly. Taer snorted grudgingly and turned back to the window:

What if that recording with Lord Velaske and the professor is even faked? There must be some way of contacting Countess Durlurl... she thought with a touch of despair.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the beep of a communicator - a call from the castle. She was being called by one of the secretary droids:

"Sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Mistress Sain Lieutenant Diltar of the Guard," the droid rattled courteously, "but we have been contacted by representatives of House Bentar. They informed us that the ship carrying the esteemed Dudo Guwar had arrived in the Copeira system and wanted to know where to put it."

Great shadows, Dudo, I'd forgotten all about him!

"Pass me the Bentar numbers. I'll take care of the matter myself," she pulled out her infobox and, after making sure the data had arrived, cut the connection.

"Did something happen?" Alex asked, listening intently to her conversation.

"No, it's just that a ship with Dudo has arrived and needs to be accommodated."

"Shit, I'd forgotten all about that! But I don't suppose that's a problem? There's a room in the castle that could be used as a ward."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Taer shook her head. "He's very badly injured - we won't be able to provide the necessary conditions in the castle. We'll have to arrange accommodation with a decent clinic."

With it being nighttime in the main zone on the Copeira, there's no one to be found.

"I hadn't thought of that," Alex sighed wearily. "Maybe there's no point in going to the castle, then? We'll just go meet Dudo and go to the hospitals."

Taer glanced questioningly at Alex. The effects of the Fenote seemed to have worn off, and there were deep dark circles under Alex's eyes, and they were flushed, their complexion painfully pale, and their movements unsteady.

"It's better if I search for the hospital alone. You, Your Lordship, go to the castle and get some sleep. And tomorrow, we'll visit Dudo together."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" she nodded back. "You are in a state of extreme fatigue anyway, and you have no understanding of medical matters. And I have had general medical training."

"You haven't slept as much as I have," the lord remarked uncertainly.

Taer cast a quick glance at her comm screen:

"It's only thirty-nine hours," she retorted. "It's perfectly normal for me: when I was in the Navy, I used to have sixty-hour watches. So I don't want to sleep at all!" she was modestly silent about the fact that she was on proper stimulants for the watch.

And she really didn't want to sleep, not out of any excess of energy, but simply because she was afraid of another bout of nightmares, which seemed almost inevitable after such a strong manifestation of the implemented skills. And the prospect of exhausting herself enough to fall into a dreamless slumber was tempting.

"Well, okay," Alex agreed tiredly. "You're right, I don't know anything about it anyway, so I'm not much help."

Taer, with a look of triumph, nodded in satisfaction and turned again to the window.

Bloody hell, where am I going to find a decent clinic now?

Nothing cleverer than raising the ears of the retainers had occurred to her so far. Because she, too, had a rather vague idea of how to distinguish a decent clinic from an indecent one. Especially in a matter as delicate as extensive blaster wounds.

But you can't take him to Fyron to the Guard General Hospital!

Taer tortured herself with this question for a while longer, but soon fatigue took over, and her barely moving brain came to the conclusion that as a last resort, she would simply go to the most expensive clinic she could find.

Soon the thrust generators hummed softly, the flyers came into a turn, and the castle appeared in the side windows. The gardens, illuminated by a soft blue light, surrounded the castle in a glowing ring. The pale blue glow of the castle walls faded into bright purple spires, the glowing mass was reflected in the black mirror of a rippled lake, and the entire manor seemed to be engulfed in a cold, ghostly flame.

But neither Taer nor Alex had the strength to admire this beauty.

The vehicles came to a standstill on the landing in front of the front entrance, the large double doors were open, and the warm yellowish light in the front stretched in a narrow lane to the base of the stairs, where the majordomo was already waiting for them.

Signaling to the pilot to wait - she still wanted to pop into the garage with them to get her service Isato - Taer gently jumped down onto the sand of the grounds, followed by the lord out of the flyer.

"Arrange for dinner, Your Lordship?" Barra inquired.

"No, that's unnecessary," Alex brushed him off. "I'm going to bed. And you go, too."

After dismissing the majordomo, he turned and, pulling a jar of Fenote from his trouser pocket, handed it to Taer:

"Here, you're already scary to look at, and you don't know how long it will take to find a clinic."

She was only pretending to be reluctant and, with a heavy sigh, picked up the jar, mentally vowing to stock the medicine cabinet with normal stimulants.

After reaching the garage, Taer said goodbye to the pilots and went in search of her Isato-Planet. Finding the flyer, she collapsed tiredly into her seat and clicked the key on the dashboard. The vehicle's dark interior began to fill with flickers and lights as the dashboard came alive with terminals and system tests started up.

She watched the lights on the dashboard for a moment, sinking deeper and deeper into prostration, her eyes swimming, her eyelids heavy... Waking with a jerk as her head snapped back onto her chest, Taer woke up and looked around with mild surprise, remembering how she had gotten here in the first place.

No, we can't go on like this! I'll fall asleep in flight!

She reached back towards the back of the sofa where the mini-bar was located. Taking out a greenish bottle of Tarius tincture, she twisted off the golden cap with one swipe of her thumb and placed the open bottle on the floor beside her. Counting out five capsules of Fenote, Taer popped them into her mouth and chewed them. Wrinkling and squeezing her eyes shut from the unspeakable extravaganza that was going on in her mouth, she groped for the bottle of Tarium and took a few greedy sips right out of the bottle.

"Definitely, if you chew that crap up, it has twice the effect," she said aloud in a husky voice and, closing the bottle, steered the flyer towards the garage exit.

The search for the hospital took six hours, five pills of Fenote, and the night shift of the Retainer service of House Fyron alarmed. Finally, when it was clear to all involved that, on the one hand, it was not a nobleman and, on the other, Lord Cassard was taking care of all the expenses without much concern for their size, a suitable hospital had been found. The doctor on duty, a polite and short-spoken man with a noble grey in his temples, assured Taer that their equipment and experience were sufficient to deal with blaster wounds of this complexity. And that they would begin therapy as soon as the casualty was brought to them.

It remained to deliver the casualty, so after another hour and a half, Taer stood on the golden sunlit landing pad, shivering from the piercing gusts of cold wind that wafted across the roof of the clinic. She would have gladly waited for the Bentar transporter in the warm and cozy flyer, but beside her, the three medical technicians, led by the doctor on duty, were freezing, clearly more chilly than she was.

The Bentars were noticeably delayed. They had to spend another ten minutes on the roof before the carcass of the transport passed over their heads. The vehicle turned heavily on its nose towards the lifts and descended with a loud hiss as it lowered the nose ramp.

The young man in the gold uniform of the Bentar Guard jumped onto the platform without waiting for the ramp to fully lower. A few moments later, a pair of blue overalls followed him down the ramp, pushing a massive closed preservation capsule on a trolley. The upper cover of the capsule was transparent, but no one could see the face of the man lying underneath through the jumble of tubes, the extended observation units, and the blue glow of the regenerators' spirals.

The personnel, who must have been delighted to escape the roof and the piercing wind, rushed to the capsule and literally snatched it from the Bentar technicians, and hurried to the lifts. Only the doctor on duty was left, inquiring about his medical history and the procedures that had been carried out.

"Stack Lieutenant Guardsman Lit Medel," the Bentar Guard approached Taer, raising his hand in a military salute.

"Sain Lieutenant Guardsman Taer Diltar, Lord Cassard's Arm," she replied, waving two fingers from her temple. "I wish to thank you and all the forces of House Bentar on behalf of his lordship, as well as myself, for your help and concern for the wounded."

"Well," the guardsman objected, "I'm afraid we didn't do enough. So, in turn, on behalf of House Bentar, I would like to offer our deepest apologies for our failure to prevent the attack on our guests. I would also like to give His Lordship Lord Cassard a letter from Her Ladyship Lady Bellar."

He held out the golden envelope and bowed his head slightly. She took the letter, bowed her head slightly and said goodbye to the Bentar, and hurried to the lifts, mentally beating herself up for her hindsight:

Well, the Lord forgot, but me... No letter of thanks, no gift! Word will get out that Lord Cassard is an ungrateful stingy! We'll have to hint to "his lordship" to bestow a gift on all those involved in rescuing him...

"Except for the intelligence freaks who planned this operation!" She added aloud, finding herself alone in the spacious lift cabin.

At the clinic, she watched as Dudo was taken out of his medically preserved capsule and had a long talk with the head doctor of the clinic, who was waiting for her.

The clinic was very expensive, so the head physician, Jussi Pintirsi, was, as Taer had expected, a short, lean man, even for this race of mirlisti, wearing the green coat of a servant of the Protectress. He invited her into his office, a tastefully furnished oval Vythian-style room, windowless and finished in polished red elm.

"You see, Madam Diltar," the chief medical officer explained after Taer politely declined the drinks brought by the assistant, "the injury sustained by the esteemed Guwar is extremely serious."

There was sorrow in his huge green eyes. He sighed heavily, raised his folded palms to his mouth, and was briefly silent, obviously trying to find the right words:

"There are several approaches to treating such wounds," Mirlisti finally said. "And they are very different in both price and results."

"What's the difference?"

"Primarily in the speed and completeness of recovery. If we begin classical therapy, then, taking into account the time required to grow a lung, to perform implantation surgery, to build up the ribs and restore the skin," he was silent again and, with a heavy sigh, he shook his hands, "the treatment will take at least three decades - about thirty to forty days. And after the active phase of the treatment, it will be about the same amount of time, perhaps more, before the dear Guwar will be able to move about actively. It is also possible that for the next ten to twelve decades, he will experience some breathing problems. Not life-threatening, of course," he added hastily, seeing the look on Taer's face, "but preventing prolonged physical exertion."

So simply put, for six months, Dudo will be an invalid who is constantly panting and suffering from shortness of breath, Taer thought unhappily.

"I assume there is some alternative?" She 'nudged' the head doctor.

"Yes," the doctor twitched his ears in agreement. "Intensive care with Vitalin. In case of immediate life-threatening and severe wounds, you don't need to get on the waiting list." For some reason, he clarified. "And we can get the necessary amount of Vitalin at once for a full course. In that case, if all goes well, we can release dear Guwar in three or four days. And in about another five days, he will be able to move about actively." He fell silent and, clasping his palms together in a lock, sadly added. "But it will be very expensive."

"Dear Pintirsi, can you tell me directly how expensive it is?" Taer sensed a familiar dance around the price of the generator.

"I can't say for sure yet. I have to wait for the doctor's report, but not less than two million credits. Of course, with the additional costs the amount may increase." Pintirsi hurriedly added and, smiling embarrassedly, nervously drummed his claws on the polished surface of the table.

Her first impulse was to immediately agree to intensive therapy with Vitalin. There was still more than ten million danarii in her personal account from the money that had been earmarked for the purchase of equipment. She could have paid for Dudo's treatment right now without even requesting the lord's visa. But a worm of doubt stirred in her chest, her conscience chanting in a sneaky voice:

Joyfully proceeding to utilize the funds, Madam Guards Sain Lieutenant, eh?

The thought that she was already beginning to take charge of the money allocated to her, that she thought of it as her own, kept her from agreeing. Although, deep down, she was absolutely convinced that Dudo deserved the best treatment possible.

The lingering pause was interrupted by the chief physician, who folded his palms together again so that they were almost covering his small mouth and leaned forward a little:

"There may be a certain discount... For you personally," said Mirlissti as if in between, probably taking Mrs. Diltar's silence as an expectation of an offer.

He only added fuel to the fire: "In the case of such sums," Taer smiled coldly, "I must consult with His Lordship Lord Cassard, so I will inform you of our decision at a later date. I hope, dear Pintrisi, to see the final calculations by then, with the exact REAL amount."

"Of course, of course," he nodded sympathetically and, smiling apologetically, slid a flat table of one of the infoblocks lying on the table towards her. "Perhaps then, Mistress Diltar, we should make a contract for accommodation in the intensive care ward in the meantime?"

"It is possible."

Half an hour later, Mirlisti, smiling embarrassedly and constantly apologizing for everything in turn, escorted her to the car park on the roof.

Taer arrived at the Blue Flame only to arrive at the clinic with the Lord after forcibly cramming in her breakfast, four hours and three fenot pills later.

"So, how long would it take you to get him back on his feet?" Alex asked, observing through the transparent wall of the room the steady blue glow of the regenerator tubes that enveloped Dudo's body.

Dudo's body was almost entirely covered by foil. Completely, except for a huge dark red hole on the left side of his chest. The translucent flickering beam of the clamping field, illuminated by the cold shimmer of the disinfecting lights, beat directly into the wound, almost obscuring all detail. Which, in Taer's opinion, was only for the best. The resuscitation unit in which Dudo's body lay was tilted almost vertically and pushed forward for all to see, making the golden figure, entangled in blue tubes of a blood substitute and with a dark scarlet hole in its chest, look like some kind of grotesque sculpture.

"In the case of intensive care, three to four days, Your Lordship." The chief physician replied, bowing his head in a courteous bow.

"And when can you start?"

"We could do it now, Your Lordship." Smiled Mirlisti.

His ears were twitching - he was nervous.

"Well, then I guess we'll just have to decide formal..." Alex began but was interrupted by the piercing beep of Taer's communicator.

"I beg your pardon!" The "specialist" smiled tensely and went out into the corridor, retrieving her communicator as she went.

"Yes. What is it, Barra?" The call came from the castle from the steward's personal communicator, and the steward never made a trivial call.

"There are officers from Imperial Security here..." Barra's voice trembled slightly, "and a commissioned investigator from the Imperial High Court. They want to see Their Lordship, Lord Cassard. And their lordship Baroness Rionale is shouting at them. What am I to do?"

Her memory, which must have been spurred on by the Fenote, instantly produced a question before Taer could be surprised or frightened:

"Do they have an injunction from the Imperial Tribunal or authorization from the Senate?" She asked in a matter-of-fact manner. "And why is Kayrin shouting at them?"

"I... I don't know," Barra's voice was suddenly lost, "they didn't show anything." He mumbled and, clearing his throat, continued in a normal tone:

"As I understand it, it has to do with the assassination attempts. They have brought some kind of equipment and are measuring something with it all over the castle, and they have entered the Baroness' rooms, and she..."

"What kind of equipment?!" Taer started to get agitated but stopped just in time. "I'll tell you this. Get them all into the main living room, give them tea, teymar, wine, whatever they want. Tell them they're not to do anything in the castle without their Lordships' permission, including the use of any equipment, and their Lordships will speak to them as soon as they are free."

"What if they don't obey?" There was a pity note in his voice that did not sound at all like the majordomo's.

He must have thought that some of his financial frauds had been uncovered and they had come to get him, so he panicked.

"They have no choice, they will obey! If not, call me!"

When she entered the reception area of the ward, Alex, surrounded by the chief physician and his two assistants, was just reading the contract on a small flat-panel infoblock. The Mirlisti opposite and the others around him were trying their best to show that they were not shocked by the spectacle. But it didn't work out so well.

"We're having some difficulties at the castle," Taer whispered in his ear, coming up behind him. "It would be good to get out there."

Alex squinted his eyes and, seeing the frown, set the infoblock aside on a small table:

"Is it that serious?" he asked again in a whisper.

He only nodded silently. The lord hummed thoughtfully and then turned back to Mirlisti:

"Well," he smiled sweetly. "I think everything is fine, we are completely satisfied with your conditions, and I hope your clinic will not let me down in such a sensitive matter. I really hope that my man will be all right."

The chief medical officer got the hint:

"Of course, Your Lordship!" he fluttered on. "We are more than ninety-four percent sure of the outcome and, in any case, your servant's life is in no danger as he will be treated by our best team! They are, without exaggeration, the finest resuscitators, surgeons, and regeneratologists on Copeira!"

"I hope very much for your professionalism!" Alex nodded solemnly. "And, as I now have urgent business to attend to, I would like to complete all financial matters as quickly as possible."

"Of course, Your Lordship! If you are in a hurry, you can postpone the signing of the contract and the transfer of funds to a more convenient time."

"I'd prefer to pay for everything now. If that's possible, Mr. Pintirsi, of course."

Mirlisti smiled in response and nodded.

"What happened?" Alex asked as they said goodbye to the smiling Chief Medical Officer a few minutes later and boarded the flyer waiting on the roof.

Despite the eerie noise in the interior of the accelerating vehicle, Taer first took out a small suppressor pendant and switched it on:

"The SS has come to the castle," she shouted, trying to block out the roar of the traction generators. "And an investigator from the Imperial High Court. According to Barra, they want to discuss something concerning the assassination attempt on you. They've also brought some equipment with them and are prancing around the castle with it. I told Barra to put them in the living room and keep them out of the rest of the castle until we arrive."

"Imperial Security? Something tells me I don't like it. Can I refuse this joy?"

Taer shook her hands: "Technically since they don't have the Senate's sanction, you could order to kick them out. But..."

"... but it would raise a lot of unnecessary questions and suspicions," the lord continued for her. "All right, we'll talk."

A pale but outwardly unruffled Barra greeted them on the doorstep of the castle.

"How many guests do we have?" Alex asked the majordomo as he walked up the steps.

"Twelve men, Your Lordship. Eight respected members of the Imperial Security, with them the Mr. Officer, and also the Mr. Investigator. I have placed them in the lilac salon. And your former guest - Her Lordship Baroness Rionale is in her room, writhing in anger. His Lordship Marquis DeGrasteau is not here. He left for his friends after breakfast and promised to be here this evening. There are only two of his entourage in the castle."

"What was it that made Kayrin so angry?" The lord inquired with genuine interest.

"The honorable men from the Security Service went about the castle making some measurements and entered Baroness Rionale's rooms without any warning. Her ladyship was in the make-up room, and this made her incredibly angry."

Barra, who must have been overexcited with excitement, began to speak in "lackeyish ".

And Lord Cassard never liked that, Taer thought wearily as she watched the scene.

"Wow," Alex chuckled. "So nice! How long have they been here?"

"It's been an hour and a half, Your Lordship."

"I see... And what, they all want to talk to me at once?"

"As far as I understand, only two people want to talk to you - Mr. Investigator and the Stack Captain from the Security Service, and the rest are technicians."

"All right," the lord waved his hand. "Let's have these two in my office in about twenty minutes. Both of them at once."

"It will be done, Your Lordship!" Barra hurried towards the purple drawing room.

They stopped in the corridor outside the study. Taer was still going in to freshen up:

"How are you feeling?" Alex asked. "Will you be able to be present during the conversation? Because your eyes..."

"I'm perfectly all right! I'm fine," she assured him hastily, though she was already feeling a bit rough. But she could not miss the conversation with the investigators.

After all, the lord has lost his memory, they may try to take advantage of his ignorance, and I am the only person in the castles with any legal training.

"Well, look... It's just that instead of standing around like a lunatic, you'd better go and sleep - it's no use anyway."

"Well, I'm good enough to talk," Taer smiled wearily.

The lord shrugged in doubt and waved, walking down the corridor toward his bedroom.

No, I'm definitely enough to have a conversation. Especially if I eat a capsule of this abomination before talking

Five minutes later, eating three Fenote pills and washing her face with ice-cold water, but still slightly stupefied, Taer entered the small meeting room that adjoined the lord's office. The windowless circular room, finished in dark scarlet silk, was small and modest, about thirty paces in diameter. In the center stood a simple but elegant round table. Small in height, it was carved from a solid piece of dark stone, the depths of which played with scarlet overtones. The outer rim had a "Branches of Flame" ornament made with bright scarlet glowing etching. The table was surrounded by massive and low upholstered armchairs of dark brown leather, in which two "guests" were already waiting for them.

A young, thirty-something at the most, a stack captain in a charcoal black SS uniform.

And an older man in the snow-white uniform of a senior naval officer with the gold epaulets of a Sain Major. Judging by the "Peleng" on his sleeve, he had served in Imperial Intelligence - he must have been the authorized investigator. Behind the guests, two droids and a small hovering platform with drinks and snacks lingered.

SS man sat reclining in his chair, putting his foot on his leg and wiggling impatiently with the toe of his boot. His right hand was tapping an intricate beat around the foot of a half-served glass of Bentar Dew. From time to time, he cast quick, irritated glances at the scout. The SS man only gave Taer, who entered, a lazy glance that lingered a little in the area around her chest. Taer, to her surprise, was not at all annoyed by this:

It's from fatigue.

The Sain Major, seated next to the Security Officer, smiled at Taer and greeted her with a courteous nod. The scout, unlike the Security Officer, radiated calm and serenity with a steaming cup of Teymar on the table in front of him.

Apparently, having an interrogator and a whole Sain Major was not in the SS man's plans. And that just pisses the SS man off, and the Major likes it, Taer thought aloof as she looked at the pair of them.

Following Taer into the meeting room, the lord entered - at his appearance, the Sain Major stood up. The SS Stack Captain glanced at the Major, in which initial surprise was instantly replaced by anger, and with a second's delay, not hiding his irritation, reluctantly rose to follow. Staying seated with the whole Sain Major standing next to him was simply not an option.

"Sain Major Vimo Derbal, the commissioned investigator of the Imperial Tribunal," the scout introduced himself, bowing his head and clasping his right hand to the chest of his white tunic.

"Stack Captain Libut Februro, Imperial Security Service," muttered the Security Officer, forced to follow the Major's lead.

And you, Stack Captain, didn't seem to have planned the conversation at all, Taer mentally sneered, unable to hold back a smile.

"Guard Sain Lieutenant Taer Diltar, Lord Cassard's Arm," she introduced herself as she greeted the Sain Major with a wave of two fingers from her temple.

She didn't dignify the SS man with a nod. She signaled to the Lord with her eyes to sit down and went to her chair, forcing the Major, but above all the Security Officer, to stand and wait for them to sit down. Somehow she was sure that the Major would not be offended by this, but the SS Captain was quite the opposite.

"Nice to meet you, gentlemen! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" The Lord smiled and gestured for them to sit down again.

The officers looked at each other and the SS officer, barely able to contain his anger, smiled tautly and made a silent gesture, inviting the scout to speak first:

"I have been appointed by the High Tribunal of the Empire to investigate the assassination attempts on Your Lordship," Vimo Derbal began, nodding politely to the Security Officer. "I'd like to speak to you personally and clarify some of the issues involved in this case."

Having said this, the Major looked expressively at the Captain, inviting him to continue.

"Actually...," the stack captain hesitated and continued after a moment's pause. "We are interested in the same question. I would like you to tell us everything you know, it would help the investigation a lot."

He seemed to have an entirely different beginning to the conversation prepared, Taer laughed mentally. And the Sain Major's deliberately polite tone confused his plans.

The conversation was clearly beginning to please her. Looking at the stack captain she could not hide her smile and, as she hoped, the smile must have been a rare nasty one.

"Well... Ask."

"Your Lordship, if you don't mind telling us, could you tell us if you have any idea who might have wanted you dead?" Major Derbal nodded to the SS Officer to ask his question.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," the SS officer added, literally squeezing out, "your lordship."

A mental laugh rang in Taer's head - she suddenly, despite her monstrous fatigue, experienced a feeling of a kind of crystal, icy clarity. Everything became clear as if she had simply tossed the puzzle crystals into the air, and they formed a pattern of their own.

The SS was simply going to blatantly ignore the liberties and interrogate the lord brutally, against all the rules, just as they had done to her after the poisoning. Probably even by force, thanks to the fact that they had eight "technicians" with them.

"You know, unfortunately not," Alex shook his hands. "I'm sure it's not someone from our House. It's some outside force, but who would want me dead..." he sighed heavily. "I might have known, but as you know, the poison made me completely lose my memory."

It was a provocation - she did not understand how she knew that, but she was sure of it. That was why the SS officer was behaving so brazenly and he planned to behave even more brazenly. To take and interrogate the Lord of a Great House against his will, without the sanction of the Senate, could be described as a very sophisticated form of suicide. Such an insult, and from a commoner, would not be tolerated. Stack Captain Libut Februro was a card to drop, but he didn't realize it. Apparently, he was from the Central Sectors and had only recently been transferred here. And he had only met nobles from there. And now Captain Februro just didn't understand what he was being asked to do. He had only seen the petty nobles of the Central Sectors, most likely he had never encountered the "Lords" - they were too few in the Central Sectors and usually held the titles of Princes, though in our Sector they would be at best Marquesses.

Poor idiot, Taer's thoughts erupted into a ghostly trace of pity. He'd almost signed his own death warrant. He must have skipped all the lectures on the structure of the nobility. He had interrogated nobles hundreds of times and saw nothing special in it. Someone had made sure that a man was sent to talk to the lord who absolutely did not understand what he was doing. He would have tried, as usual, to "shake out" the information. He might even have succeeded. After all, there are eight of them, and I'm the only one in the whole castle who can resist. The House would have been obliged to react after such an insult. And even if the House had restrained itself when such an insult became known, there would have been some overzealous "fanatics" ready to avenge the "descendant of a lineage blessed by Flame", even at the cost of their own lives. And, by all appearances, that was all someone wanted. But then an Intelligence representative showed up, the whole Sain Major at once, whom the brave Stack Captain had obviously not expected to see. And not just any Sain Major, but a representative of the Imperial High Tribunal. Shadows, he's so high up he could force to jump Stack Mayor Sheldon, Head of the SS on Copeira, never mind a Stack Captain.

The conversation between the officers and the lord continued, and Taer barely heard anything anymore. She basked in the feeling of omniscience. She didn't have to listen to them. She knew ahead of time everything they would say or even think. Poor silly Captain Februro would try to push, but the Major would shut him up with his monstrous politeness and rank. In the end, the Major will blow off the interrogation. He was not interested in it in the first place, and this conversation is an empty formality. And the Captain would give up and walk away, not realizing that the Major had saved his skin and possibly his career.

What kind of career can a fool have in the SS, though? He will be traded at the first opportunity in another combination since this one didn't work out...

Sain Major doesn't need an interrogation too. He's sure he'll find out because we'll tell him

Taer's mental laughter shuddered in her mind - she felt genius and enjoyed the feeling, she knew that the Major was right, and although it had not happened yet, they would really tell him everything he wanted to know.

A crystal, icy, ringing joy was beating inside - she suddenly felt omnipotent, this simple and sweet feeling of absolute freedom literally flooded her.

One can push off and fly, just like taking a full breath, she smiled.

Reality trembled under her gaze, everything became fuzzy, and at the same time, she could distinguish the smallest details. For a while, she admired the intricate weave pattern of the threads from which one of the officers' uniforms had been sewn and then shifted her gaze to them. She raised her palm and looked at them through spread fingers:

One can push them, and they'll wrinkle like paper bags.

Under her gaze, the figures of the officers trembled, eliciting a cheerful smile.

I can do anything! She looked at her right palm resting on the edge of the table. I can take a piece of the table and break it off

She suddenly felt an unbearable urge to try it. So that the small stone crumbs splattered to the sides, and she had a nice chunk left in the palm of her hand. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, feeling the pleasant coolness of the polished surface. She tightened her grip just a little and felt it succumb under her palm.

One has to squeeze. It crumbles quite easily, like a sand biscuit, she decided, increasing the pressure.

And a moment before stone should have cracked and remained in her palm. She was scared out of her wits - what if she really could? The eerie terror that belonged to her, the normal Taer, erupted like fireworks, eating away the ringing sense of omnipotence with a smoky flame.

If I can do that, it won't be me. I won't exist anymore! It's scarier than dying, She thought, and reality came crashing down on her in a muddy waterfall.

"...I would like to speak to your security specialist in private so as not to bore your lordship. There are several boring technical nuances which, in the meantime, are worth clarifying..."

She took a deep breath, as if after a long dive, and looked around.

The Lord was talking to the Sain Major, who must have noticed the oddity and was looking at her suspiciously. And Stack Captain Februro was burning the Sain Major with his hateful eyes and didn't notice anything around him.

Taer looked down at her hand, which still covered part of the table as if it were stuck. Inwardly freezing with creepiness, she slowly moved her hand and let out a sigh of relief - under her palm was a clean and intact tabletop.

Along with relief came a sudden feeling of pangs of resentment and loneliness, like a small child being led by a hand and suddenly looking around and not seeing the familiar hand. And strangers and huge indifferent beings pass by. And it is so frightening, hurtful, and lonely that it makes you want to cry.

Taer took another deep, convulsive breath and felt the tears come to her eyes. She wanted to howl with resentment:

Why did I stop? I could have! Mentally she moaned, remembering the pure ringing feeling of absolute freedom, and felt like crying.

Fortunately, the blockade finally remembered that it existed. The pain in her chest prevented her from breathing, and the tears receded.

"Well..." Alex stretched and Taer felt a touch on her elbow, "it's not really a problem, but..." he continued to draw in, glaring at Taer just in case she nodded, not quite sure what he meant, "why not?" He finished with a sigh of relief. "You talk while I take Mr. Stack Captain and his men out." He smiled at the SS officer and made an inviting gesture towards the door.

When they were alone, the Sain Major took a small holo-projector out of his breast pocket and placed it on the table.

"I would like to show you one footage," he said as he leaned back in his chair.

The screen above the table flickered, and Taer saw a tape of herself, in her own right, taking a familiar folder filled with money from someone. It would probably have caused panic if she had been in her normal state, but now she was only mildly surprised. They've got spies in there, too.

"And what is that?" she asked aloud.

"Visual evidence of the commission of the serious crime of accepting a bribe on a particularly large scale."

"A visual record is not evidence and cannot be considered by the court," Taer quoted idly, thinking to herself: Great shadows! Must have been an overdose of Fenote. Bloody hell, what a high, and the fools at the university were trying to get a hold of a real bloof. All it needed was a trip to the pharmacy.

She mechanically continued to say the phrases she had memorized: "And I, as a guardsman of the Great House and an Arm of the Lord, have immunity from prosecution."

"True," smiled the Sain Major softly, "but who's talking about a trial? Think what would happen if we showed this tape to their Lordships? How will your career go on?"

And nothing is going to happen - 'their lordship' already knows, she thought wearily, at the same time trying to play frightened.

"And what do you want from me?"

"Nothing that threatens you or your Lord," the Major assured her. "I want information. It seems to me that Lord Cassard knows somewhat more about the assassination attempts than he has chosen to disclose. But after all, it is in his interest to find the killers as well. I'm sure you, Mistress Diltar, as their lordship's confidant, know a great deal about what's going on. Share this information with me, and your privileged position will no longer be threatened."

Some pathetic crumbs of the insight she had experienced told her there was no need to discuss it now.

The Major thinks he needs the cooperation a lot more than we do. He can wait.

The memory of the effect sent a slight wave of longing through her, but this time her mind was on guard: No, I don't want to get hooked on stimulants.

"You know, Mr. Sain Major, I haven't slept in almost two days," Taer admitted honestly. "Let's take a rain check on this conversation. I'll give you my comm number," she held out her business card to Derbal. "I can't answer your questions reasonably now, anyway. Or you can tell the Lord everything now. I don't care. "

The scout, who was clearly expecting the conversation to go the other way, hesitated and, taking the business card, looked at it with a look of surprise:

"All right, Mrs. Diltar, let's put it off..." He stood up and, twirling his business card thoughtfully in his hands, headed for the exit.

At the door, he turned to Taer, who was standing to escort him out, and said with a heartfelt expression:

"Just please don't drag it out. It would be very unfortunate if the next attempted assassination took place before we spoke. And, I tell you what... take one too," he held out his card to her. "In case you have something to tell me."

After escorting the Major to the grounds, where the lord was just escorting 'guests' from the SS. Taer, after waiting for the flyers to depart, signaled to the lord that: We really need to talk, and taking him under her arm, she led him to the "back yard," where a stela of the shield generator loomed as a silver arrow among the green tops of the reswells. Stepping behind the massive main storage unit so that they could not be seen from the castle and mentally waving, To wash anyway, she sat down directly on the grass, motioning for Alex to sit beside her.

"What's wrong again?" he asked, staring at Taer with curiosity. "And why here?"

"We've had eight SS techs in the castle with some unknown equipment," she explained, turning on her suppressor and placing it next to her in the grass. "According to Bara, they didn't get to our rooms in time, but they could have unleashed miniature droids or some shit like that, and they could have already spread all over the castle. All the more reason for these little buggers to be clever enough to stalk us."

"Can't they get here?"

"No." Taer waved, leaning back against the warm metal of the generator. "We've got a planetary-class shield here - this thing's radiating so badly, it'll blow their brains out."

Alex looked at the stela with obvious doubt:

"Is it radiating? Isn't it dangerous?"

"If you're not a droid, it's not fatal." The specialist brushed him off and changed the subject:

"Sain Major Derbal showed me a video of me getting..." she stammered, and with some effort, she finally said it. "How I received the bribe."

"Wow, a manager taking the risk of screwing over a partner on a billion-worth contract..." Alex stretched out in surprise and, with a smirk, inquired. "And what did 'Mr. Plenipotentiary Investigator' want from you?"

"He wanted cooperation. He thinks you or I... well, one of us knows more about the assassination attempts than we've been told. Threatened to put an end to my career by showing you the record." Taer smiled wearily.

"A serious threat." Alex shook his head. "You have no other choice but to cooperate."

"As a matter of fact, yes." Taer stood up, shaking off her trousers. "You'd be in a remarkably stupid position if he did show it to you, and you wouldn't dismiss me in disgrace."

"Exactly!" Alex smiled. "So we will co-operate with the investigation. We'll just have to think about what we give to the investigators." He looked at Taer with interest and, squinting slyly, inquired:

"How do you feel about yourself, by the way?"

"Fine." Taer shrugged. "I'm sleepy, of course, but if you need anything..."

"No, no." Alex waved his arms. "I was just asking because you're so mysterious when you don't get enough sleep."

"What do you mean?" The 'specialist' frowned.

"Well..." Alex made an indefinite gesture with his hand, trying to find the words. "Well, it's like I'm talking to a completely different person. I don't know how to explain it. It just feels like that."

Taer defiantly checked herself:

"No, it seems to be the same. There's even a sense of clarity, despite the fatigue. Maybe I just ate too much of that Fenote." She suggested.

"I don't know." He sighed. "It was probably just my imagination. And you better go to bed because you're making me uncomfortable with your mystery."

Taer shrugged again and waved a silent goodbye with two fingers from her temple. She stripped off her clothes when she reached the bed, threw her belt and holster on the table near the terminal, and, with the temperature control set to "cool" - she was suddenly hot for some reason - collapsed on the bed, instantly falling into a deep sleep.
* * *

RiP · May 9, 2023

perfectgeneral said: ↑

All this assumes that his counter move will finish it.
Click to expand...

Ah. Life would be so much easier if all problems could be solved with the help of Assassins. There is also Countess Durlurl, who wants to marry the MC. An who knows about hi nature.

RiP said: ↑

One can push them, and they'll wrinkle like paper bags.
Click to expand...

What do you think of this part? What would have happened if Taer had decided to do this?

perfectgeneral · May 11, 2023

RiP said: ↑

What do you think of this part? What would have happened if Taer had decided to do this?
Click to expand...

Fenote as The Spice or as an agrandising stimulant? Who knows. Would you risk your hand crushing stone because Angel Dust tells you it will crumble to dust? Yet if psionics are a thing here the mental enhancement overdose is the way to find out. I suspect that she just stepped back from breaking bones and tendons in her hand.

Mentats took something else that stained their lips. I do not recall the name from Dune.

RiP · May 13, 2023

Chapter 23

* * *
Taer woke up immediately - a sharp jolt - as if the nightmare had chewed her up and, not satisfied with the taste, spat her out.

"Damn..." she groaned, pulling down the sweaty sheets and trying to sit up on the bed. "Again..."

The nightmare started right on schedule the night after the guiding was activated. Her body was shaking with small shivers, like a chill, and every joint was aching. She felt as if she had shattered into a thousand little pieces, and someone had hastily glued them back together. Not much care had been taken to fit the pieces in proper order.

Taer stretched out her arm, and with a loud snap, the elbow joint snapped into place. The palm crunched into a fist - the nasty aching feeling subsided a little. Reaching for the small table by the bed, she pulled out her communicator. Blue numbers flashed on the screen...

Three o'clock! Taer wondered. I slept for almost twenty-four hours!

She summoned the droids to make the bed and tossed the communicator back onto the table. She rose carefully from the bed. It seemed that if she shifted more weight on her leg, it would burst like a glass of the finest crystal in a careless hand, and she would collapse to the floor like a broken doll. Whether or not that was really the case, she did not want to find out. So Taer moved slowly toward the bathroom, carrying herself gently across the room like it was the greatest jewel in the world.

Walking past the security terminal, she mechanically ran a diagnostic, glancing unseeingly at the scattering of images from the tracking sensors, and was about to turn away when suddenly her body froze, and a moment later, she seemed to burst into flames from within.

A wave of heat swept through her, burning away the shivers and weakness, her lungs on fire like after hours of cross-country. Taer took a deep, scalding breath, as if she'd inhaled pure flame instead of air, and stopped breathing altogether. At the same moment, her right hand shook the blaster from the holster left on the table in one incredibly crisp and graceful movement, simultaneously cocking the ready lever and setting the power to maximum. The accelerator turned on, and as her body floated in a thick syrup of thickened air in a swift dash towards the cloaked sliding panel that separated her and the lord's bedroom, Taer realized what had caused the homing reaction.

None of the pictures of the security terminal showed any summoned droids. It hit her belatedly. Either someone had blocked my communication channel, and they just didn't summon, or someone had hacked into the surveillance network, and now there was a "visual loop" on the terminal, spliced together from old records

The panel slid noiselessly to the side, and Taer stretched out in a crawling leap at the very floor, eager to escape the dangerous confines of the doorway. The fluffy pile of carpet swept in front of her face. She rubbed her shoulder gently against it and went into a roll, frozen in a tight clump behind the huge, human-sized mirror in the lord's bedroom. Only the edge of her right eye and the muzzle of her blaster protruded beyond the boundaries of the mirror.

The dark room was flooded with the ghostly reddish light of the night sky, glinting dimly on the scarlet silk of the upholstered walls. One of the segments of the huge window that occupied the entire outer wall was open, and the slight breeze brought with it the scent of wet leaves, the quiet rustle of cilias, and the distant trill of rare finches. The frame of the mirror against which she snuggled cooled her cheek and smelled of old metal. There was silence and peace in the bedroom. The lord sprawled out, and slept across the bed, seemingly unharmed.

She slid out from behind the mirror and moved in a wide arc toward the lord's bed, flowing from place to place, from one hiding place to another, with the scarlet dot of her aim resting on the door leading to the hallway and frozen virtually unwavering despite all her movements. Guider, managing to aim, survey the room and look behind the doors to the corridor and dressing room at the same time, brought Taer up to the lord, her palm resting near his face. The sleeper's calm breath came in a warm wave over her fingers.

Thank shadows, false alarm! With relief, she thought.

And a moment later, she realized how uncomfortable her position was. Deep in the night, in her lord's bedroom, holding her palm to his face for some reason, with only one blaster, even without a holster or belt, still pointed toward the door. A cool, damp breeze blew in from the garden, sending shivers down her spine:

Oh, Ryan, don't let him wake up, she mentally pleaded. He'll think I'm crazy, or they'll put me in some kind of asylum.

And then, to her horror, she saw the lord's eyelids flutter open, and his eyes (very slowly from the still 'accelerated' Taer's point of view) begin to open.

For a few moments, they stared into each other's eyes. The lord's look of confusion was replaced by surprise, and Taer began to think feverishly about what to say when suddenly there was a quiet click, and the door to the corridor began to open...

As the light beam of the ajar door widened, a dainty hand and the edge of a dark purple dress became visible...

The blaster in Taer's hand shrieked, and a ball of orange firefly discharge raced towards the opening door. She watched in horror as the edge of the door slowly drifted to the side, revealing an intruder - a small scarlet Istalia flower pinned to the shoulder strap, long flowing gold earrings that accentuated the beauty of their owner's neck, dark hair gathered in a long tight ponytail with wide, dark red ribbons. It was Baroness Kayrin Rional in the tight dark purple dress she had worn during the last breakfast. The discharge shattered into Kayrin's face in a bright flash, scarlet sparks of instantly burnt hair splattering to the sides, the tight scarlet bud of the explosion burst with smoky petals, fading into a black frost of soot. The Baroness swayed slightly but steadied herself, and her left arm went slowly upward.

Taer threw the lord back so that he fell behind the bed and darted away from the intended line of fire with one mighty swing of her hand. The next shot fired by the 'specialist' also hit Kayrin's head and - again - with no tangible result. Baroness Rionale trembled a wave of light sweeping through her arm and a dainty silver slicer leaping out of her wrist and into the palm of her hand.

In response to this, the guider must have decided to change tactics as Taer's blaster let out a pulsating howl, lighting the baroness's chest in flames of smoke. Kayrin began to swell rapidly like a disturbed swamp jumper, and her skin began to take on a distinct silver hue, a slither rustling. An invisible jet ran across the room, trying to catch up with Taer, knocking white fountains of filler from the bed, flourishing a reddish stream of sawdust on the polished sides of furniture and light wisps of pile flowing across the carpet.

Taer felt a slight jolt to her left side and was hit by something warm and wet. An alien prickly thought flashed through her mind. No pattern correction required! The guider continued to send out discharges. The scarlet dot of the sight twitched to the side, and a bright flash of tearing covered the Baroness' palm with the clenched slither.

Kayrin, who by this point resembled a strange headless semblance of a human with rough silver skin and huge arms and legs that looked more like poles, jerked awkwardly and collapsed to the side, stepping out of the doorway and out of sight. There was a soft clap, and a cloud of energy-absorbing mixture hung like a pearly wall in the corridor.

Taer stood frozen for a few moments, holding the doorway in her sight, then she frantically exhaled the scalding air and took her first breath of the whole time:

"Ancient Shapeshifter. I thought they were extinct," she heard her own voice, more like a croak.

And she realized that the "guider" was right, and it really was an ancient shapeshifter, just like in the scary fairy tales her older sister liked to tell.

Her body turned towards the lord - the latter, seemingly unharmed, was peering out from behind a parted jumble of beds and staring at her like a mesmerized man:

"Taer, the hand..." he said at last, with some strange intonation.

Her gaze dipped a little lower, and the "specialist" realized with horror what the lord meant.

Her entire left side was covered in blood, there was a dark wound just below her chest, and her right arm was missing above the elbow. Or rather, it was not where it was supposed to be, but on the floor. And around it, a dark stain was swiftly pouring across the carpet.

"He went for reinforcements." As if nothing had happened, the guider continued. "We should change positions."

At that moment, her left hand swiped the phaser forcefully across her thigh, exposing the focus to the minimum, and brought the barrel to the wound.

Taer realized what was about to happen and became unbearably scared:

I don't want to! The thought rushed through her mind, and for the first time, she tried to resist the guider.

"I don't want to..." she heard herself wheezing. Her hand loosened, hanging limply, the blaster falling to the carpet with a thud.

She suddenly realized that she was incredibly cold, and every breath was followed by a flickering pain in her left side. Another hoarse breath made her break into a convulsive cough. Taer wiped her lips and stared in surprise at the scarlet droplets left on the back of her palm. At that moment, the world shook around her, black dots danced in her eyes, and the floor swept toward her with splotches of scarlet.

* * *

The sensation of living warmth that had appeared near his face made Alex wake up. When he opened his eyes, he tried for a few moments to figure out what it was that he was seeing. And when he did, at first, he thought he was still asleep. Above him, holding his open palm close to his face, leaned Taer in her Eve costume. Simply put, completely naked. Despite the obvious unreality of the sight, Alex's gaze slid almost spontaneously down to the mouthwatering curves and roundness of the "specialist," gleaming in the reddish light of the night sky.

And when she is in uniform, where does that disappear to? Dumbfounded, he thought, instantly realizing that the curves and roundness were perfectly real.

Alex looked at Taer in surprise, trying to figure out what that was about, and froze, gazing into her face. Her unnaturally dilated eyes seemed to be completely black, staring unmovingly through him. Or rather an eye. The right one. Because the left one was looking somewhere in the direction of the front door, which gave an eerie impression. The barrel of the blaster in his left hand was pointing in the same direction.

At that moment, the lock on the door clicked softly, and Alex was thrown into the air. The world around him flipped and spun, exploding in a whirl of flashes and howls of flying discharges. He suddenly realized that he was flying toward the small table behind the bed, and he reflexively clutched himself into a lump, covering his head with his hands.

Rhythmic flashes of gunfire rolled through the bedroom with a howl, momentarily illuminating the room with orange light before exploding with loud pops somewhere in the hallway. Alex tried to rise from the floor, but at that moment, something unseen rustled dryly through the room, tearing everything in its path.

The bed behind which he had fallen spewed out a swirling cloud of shreds and sawdust and collapsed on its side with a loud crack of shattering wood, a swirl of silk paneling, sawdust, and filling material swirled over the small, elegant couch that stood next, and it collapsed flat in half, a huge mirror collapsed to the floor with a loud clang. Something drew a bizarre zigzag across the carpet and caught up with Taer. A wound opened on her forearm, splattering a scarlet blotch to the sides, and the "specialist" disappeared for a moment in a swirl of tiny blood droplets. In the corridor, something clattered softly...

Suddenly it stopped as suddenly as it had started.

An unnatural silence fell over Alex, so quiet that he could hear the thud of his own heart. He rose again from behind the ruins of the bed and searched for Taer with his eyes. The girl stood frozen like a statue on the other side of the bed. She was covered in blood, her right arm was missing, and blood was gushing from a dark cut on her forearm. Her face was perfectly still, and the blaster in her outstretched hand was perfectly still.

"Fuck!" Alex whispered dazedly.

"Ancient Shapeshifter," Taer commented blankly, taking a deep breath as if after a long dive. "I thought they were extinct."

She turned her head towards him, her eyes still unnaturally dilated and staring through him. Blood poured darkly down her side, but the "specialist" seemed not to notice.

"Taer, the hand..." Alex finally managed to get it out.

The specialist looked at her wound with the same vacant expression, but judging by the serenity of her face, she had no emotion whatsoever.

"Gor azad va' zor," she said as she slid the blaster across her thigh. "Do sa" per koli."

The barrel of the blaster froze near the open wound, and then her face came alive with fear in her gaze:

"I don't want to..." she wheezed, coughing. Taer swayed and collapsed to the floor as if the thread holding her together had broken.

Alex stood motionless for a few seconds and then, finally realizing what had happened, rushed toward the fallen girl:

She's just in shock. It went through her mind. She probably didn't even feel the pain.

He struggled to roll her onto her side, his hands sliding over her blood-soaked body, and the "specialist" was just too heavy to lift. Making sure that Taër was breathing and nothing seemed to interfere with her breathing, Alex tried to clamp his hand over the wound.

This obviously doesn't make sense, he thought as he watched the dark streams gushing out in frequent small jolts from beneath his palms. That's no way to stop the blood.

Alex rushed to the bedside table and on the way turned on the light and pulled the belt from his 'hunting' trousers.

A ring of light ran along the entire perimeter of the domed ceiling, flooding the room with warm white light. The air was filled with white flakes of bedding and fine wood dust, the carpet was gaping in narrow zigzag gaps, the bed was torn to shreds, the couch was splintered on one side, and the shards of a huge mirror, its massive metal frame slashed aslant, were lying on the other side of the room.

Where the stripe of impact had touched the walls, long narrow strips of tattered silk upholstery remained, through which the dark gray stone of the walls showed. Almost in the center of the tattered room, drenched in blood, lay Taer. The white filler fluff swirled in a silent blizzard, clinging to her, lingering in melted snowflakes.

Alex tried to tear the long, narrow flap from the sheet, but the silk wouldn't budge. With a growl, he grabbed the pillow and literally ripped the pillowcase from it.

"Oh, how to tighten it!" He exhaled, tightening the strap around the wound with an improvised tampon from a folded quadruple pillowcase. "It poured and poured..."

He remembered that if the tourniquet was too tight, it could lead to tissue necrosis, and anything that was tightened would then have to be amputated. But for some reason, the instructors had never explained how to determine if the tourniquet was tight enough.

Tightening the belt, Alex hesitated, his hands clenching as if trying to grasp something; he had been firmly taught that a note must be put under the tourniquet, stating the time of the tourniquet. He knelt beside Taer, glancing frantically for a few seconds for the watch, then suddenly frozen in nervous, silent laughter. He suddenly realized that he didn't even know how many hours there were in the day or what was written here:

"God, what a mess I've been in," he whispered, cocking his head and looking up.

Above, the huge domed ceiling, a bloodied dark-haired youth, clutching the flag in his hands, called after him. Flames raged, and piles of bodies lay around him. A white griffin on a burnt scarlet cloth sprang up. He looked menacing and angry from above.

"What, I don't deserve the high rank of Lord?" Alex grinned and clenched his fists. He exhaled a long, calming breath.

Relax, it's just hysteria, an inner voice came to life.

"I know!" Alex snarled aloud, trying to palpate the pulse on Taer's neck.

There was a pulse. Very frequent but faint, almost imperceptible.

"How much blood you've lost..." he grimaced.

Although her hand had almost stopped bleeding, there was a sticky, dark stain on the white carpet around the specialist. Then he noticed a thin, scarlet trickle of blood on the side of the Taer, just below her breasts. It was a narrow wound, a little less than a finger thick:

"Fuck! God, I'm such an idiot! I'm an idiot!" Alex whispered, frantically trying to flip the monstrously heavy Taer onto her other side so that the wound was on the bottom.

All he remembered of internal bleeding was: dark blood - liver, intestines, kidneys, light scarlet blood - lungs. The trickle was bright scarlet. He yanked a healthy scrap of sheet off the bed, folded it tightly, and pressed it to the wound. Alex was already looking around for a suitable piece of cloth to bandage the Taer, pressing the tampon to her side, when suddenly he heard quiet footsteps in the corridor. Almost wheezing with exertion, he tugged at the wreckage of the bed and, grabbing her blaster from the floor, placed the barrel on the edge of the bed. Near the muzzle, a scarlet dot floated in the air.

Must be an aim, Alex decided, and the scarlet dot lay just to the side of the entrance - where the entrant should be a split second after appearing in the opening.

The handle slid a little in his blood-red hand, and he wrapped a second palm around the top of it to be sure. He lurched.

The edge of something white flashed through the doorway, appearing near the top for a moment and then disappearing. The blaster shrieked and spat out a yellow ball of the discharge as Alex reflexively fired. On the opposite wall of the corridor, a small scarlet ball of explosion burst, leaving behind a black stain with a reddening core on the pale wood panel.

I know such tricks Alex thought angrily, shifting half a meter sideways from his old position and aiming the sight exactly in the middle of the doorway. He unfocused his gaze and, relaxing his hand, pressed lightly on the trigger picking out the slack.

Such tricks he did, indeed, know. Some smartass peeked into the room on a swing, hanging from a jamb, standing on something high, or simply jumping up, appearing for a split second where he was least expected - in the upper corner. And now that someone is leaning against the wall and realizing exactly what it was that he saw in that brief moment.

I don't think he can distinguish me. Only the edge of his head and the barrel of his blaster showed above the torn mishmash of the bed. And I won't give him a second time.

Seconds stretched on, but nothing happened - the unknown enemy was assessing the situation.

I wish I could throw a grenade at him while he's thinking - it will be a good lesson.

Thoughts, spurred on by adrenaline, formed an unpleasant picture, and Alex began to squint at the open secret door leading to Taer's room. His body literally shuddered with the urge to dash in there, for he too had marked himself, and the unknown "white one", unlike him, might well have a grenade on him as well. He grabbed the "specialist" by the surviving arm and, trying to be as quiet as possible, began dragging her to the secret door, realizing with horror that at any rate, he would not make it.

"Allesandro?" There was an uncertain female voice from the corridor. "Are you all right?"

Alex threw up Taer's hand and raised his blaster again. The voice was similar to Kayrin's, but there was no certainty, especially since Taer was saying something about shapeshifters.

"It's me, Kayrin," the worried voice came out again. "I was in the fencing hall and I heard rumbling and gunshots..."

"How do you prove you're Kayrin?" Alex answered with a question, taking cover behind the doorjamb of the secret door.

Taer's words about the shapeshifter were still in his head, and the fencing hall was, to say the least, too far away to hear the soft buzzing and clapping of blasters.

And what was she doing there anyway, in a fencing hall, in the middle of the night?

"When I was a little girl," He heard from the hallway. "We used to come and visit, and I used to call you 'Caslem Cislem,' and you hated it and threw incredible tantrums..."

"Anything from a more recent history?" he suggested, wondering if 'Kayrin' knew about the secret door leading to Taer's bedroom.

By all accounts, it seemed likely that she did not know and could go out the back, and if it had been a case of training, he would have done so without hesitation.

Except this isn't a game. There the balls hurt more, Flashing in his head as Alex exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, trying to calm his racing heart and the fever that was gripping him.

"When we came back from the Voigrom," Kayrin continued after a moment's pause, "you told me you didn't want to marry Valerie, but you were being pressured by Countess Durlurl. And when you were helping me pick out dresses for the Unification Party, you supposedly stepped off the top of my dress while helping me unbutton the clasps."

Alex sighed in relief:

Unlikely anyone from the outside could have known about the two incidents at the same time, he decided and shouted into the corridor. Come in!

In the doorway, with arms outstretched, a figure in a tight white suit appeared, the hilt of a sword dangling from her belt. A solid helmet with a white, opaque visor, on which was an intricate monogram, covered her head. It was Kayrin's fencing costume, and the figure was clearly hers:

"The Great Shadows!" There was a cry muffled by the helmet. She wanted to run to him but froze. She must have seen a phaser pointed at her. "Alex, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Don't move. My hands are shaking." He warned honestly. "Take off your helmet."

The baroness pulled off her helmet, and a dark wave of thick hair fell over her shoulders. Kayrin's bottomless black eyes glowed with concern. Her face, which must have been devoid of makeup, seemed a little paler, but as usual, it was impeccably perfect and incredibly beautiful.

"It's me." She said it again. "Don't shoot."

"Or something that looks like you," Alex whispered tiredly, not lowering his blaster.

He had to choose whether to shoot or not. On the outside, it was 100% Kayrin, but...

Fuck! Shapeshifters or something. Should I poke her with silver?

"Don't worry, it's me, Kay." The Baroness assured him, seeing the disbelief in Alex's eyes as he stared at her through the scope. "You're covered in blood..." She added with a strange intonation.

Alex made a decision and lowered his blaster. Kayrin, still anxious face, ran towards him but froze in horror when she saw Taer's body, hidden by the ruins of the bed until then:

"O Protectress!" She exclaimed, frozen. "What's wrong with Taer? What's happened here, anyway?"

"Someone or something attacked us. I didn't understand anything. Taer said something about a shapeshifter, an ancient." Alex began to explain his confused impressions of what had happened. "By the time I woke up, Taer was already shooting at someone, then something slashing was flying across the room. Taer's arm is severed, and there seems to be a slight lung injury. She needs to be rushed to hospital."

"Then why didn't you call the servants in?" Kayrin asked, not hiding her amazement at why such an obvious thing had not been done.

"Because I'm an idiot!" Alex whispered dazedly

He had honestly forgotten that the castle was full of people. Maybe there was a doctor too. He rushed to the communicator and, clutching the knob responsible for calling the servants, shouted: "Run to my bedroom! Call an ambulance at once! Get two bags immediately, one filled with water and ice. The other must be clean and dry."

The communicator responded to his call with silence. It was probably damaged during the firefight.

"What are the bags for?" The baroness wondered, squatting beside the Taer but keeping her eyes on Alex.

"To save the arm," Alex explained. "If they can fix a burnt-out Dudo, I don't think they'll have a problem sewing her arm back on."

She gave him a strange look but said nothing. The Baroness got up and peered over his shoulder: "This is the passageway to Taer's room, isn't it?" She asked.

"Er..." Alex stretched out without understanding. "Yeah, what?"

"I bet she's got a first-aid kit in there," Kayrin exclaimed excitedly, shoved Alex aside, and disappeared into the room. "Keep an eye on Taer for now." It came from over there.

He leaned over the specialist and listened. Her breathing was faint and a little hoarse. He moved the sheet that covered the wound in her side a little to see if the blood was foaming...

And at that moment, a golden blade flashed with a quiet hum next to his face.

"Don't move." Kayrin hissed from behind me. "Or I'll blow your head off before you even think about it."

Alex, not moving and at the same time wondering if he could reach the blaster without Kayrin noticing, beckoned his eyes in her direction.

The baroness hovered over him as a white statue with grim determination on her face, her left hand clutching the hilt of her sword, whose golden blade froze a few centimeters from his face, burning his skin, and in her right, she clutched something like a drill with a large screen. She stepped forward slightly and kicked the blaster that lay beside Alex away with a kick of her foot.

"Kayrin? What's wrong with you?" As calmly as possible, Alex inquired, who suddenly thought that if she wanted to kill him, she'd just blow his head off without any conversation. "Don't you think..."

"Shut up!" She shouted angrily at him. "Tell me where Allesandro is, or..." The streak of gold glittering fire moved menacingly closer. "I know what I do with the likes of you... Tell me where he is or I swear I'll cut you in four times eight pieces."

"Relax, there's no need to dissect anyone. I am Allesandro, the real deal."

Kayrin leaned towards him without removing her blade and squinted unkindly into his eyes:

"The real Allesandro couldn't stand the sight of blood." She hissed. "He would get sick and literally faint. And almost no one knew about it because he was too shy and hide his weakness. He was, after all, the Heir to the Cassards."

"Um... you must have forgotten. I've lost my memory..." Alex began to excuse himself, squinting at the blade that was burning his skin more and more... "A phobia could well be forgotten, being in the damaged areas..., more so in an extreme situation."

God, what am I saying... I'm so busted, he thought, watching the baroness's reaction carefully.

"You've forgotten the phobia, then." She smiled wickedly. "And you remembered the Survival and Adaptation course, didn't you?" Baroness nodded at the belted arm. "Only the Searchers and Saboteurs get to read it, and Allesandro wasn't even in the Guard!"

"I'm doing this intuitively..." said Alex, who decided that explaining that he'd taken a course in extreme medicine along with anti-avalanche training as a snowboarding free rider would be suicidal. "Believe me. It's me, Alex, I mean Allesandro."

"And we're about to find out..." Kayrin brought the 'drill' with the screen she had in her right hand to Alex's neck and suddenly jabbed him in the back, just below the shoulder blade, in a sudden, lightning-fast motion.

"Well, I hope that convinces you..." Alex said, wrinkling his nose at the unexpectedly painful sting. "By the way, while you're figuring out what I am, maybe you could help Taer. She's dying."

"She's not dying." The baroness snarled, squinting at the screen of the softly beeping drill. "Her head was unharmed, her blood had stopped, and she breathing. She had at least an hour."

For a few lingering seconds, the Drill chirped softly, probably analyzing the sample, the flaming gold of the blade stinging the skin mercilessly:

I'll probably get blisters later, Alex thought aloof.

The 'drill' made a low, shimmering sound:

"The human..." Kayrin groaned, clearly unable to believe her eyes. The surprise on her face changed to anger. "So the disguise..."

"Kay, come on, don't be silly..." Alex started, but he stopped when he saw the look in her eyes.

"I can feel that you're not Allesandro!" She whispered, bringing her open palm to his face and standing still. "I'm sure of it."

Alex suddenly felt as heavy as if he'd been rammed by a thousand-ton train. The world lost its colors, the sounds were gone, and only the thud of his heart convinced him that he was still alive. Somewhere in the depths of his chest shuddered a heavy dragging nasty feeling. He looked up at the baroness through the grey haze that obscured his eyes. There was an incredible tension on her face, a tiny drop of sweat crawling down her temple, the look in her black eyes literally burning him, and for a moment, he thought they were a dull blue somewhere in the depths.

Suddenly everything stopped, the world became colorful, and the nasty feeling in his chest disappeared. Alex sighed in relief and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the gray haze out of his eyes. Kairin, on the other hand, stood frozen with some incredible mixture of fear and surprise on her face. She looked at her hand with the blade at Alex's face in surprise, as if to say, "My God, what am I doing!" The Baroness stood in indecision for a few moments, but then there was a desperate determination in her gaze like someone determined to do something incredibly frightening:

She gonna strike.

Alex was about to jump aside, desperately aware that he wouldn't make it in any case. Suddenly something like a frantic inspiration lit up Kayrin's face, and the blade flashed away:

"Oh, forgive me, Allesandro!" She gave him a big hug. "I don't know what came over me. When I saw you covered in blood, I didn't think it could be you, and what you said about the shapeshifter... it was stupid."

"Okay, never mind." Alex touched the burned cheek lightly and grimaced in pain. "What was that, by the way?"

"What do you mean?" Kayrin asked though she seemed to know exactly what he talking about.

"Well, when you put your hand to my face. " That's what Taer did, by the way. Alex remembered. "I suddenly felt so sick, and I think your eyes even lit up."

"Are you sure?" Kayrin interrogated deafeningly. "What color?"

"Er... Blue, I think, but I'm not sure." Alex, who was blinded by the light of the blade, admitted.

"You imagined it." She exhaled in relief and smiled. "And you were sick from the burn. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to." She added with an unhappy expression on her face.

"Yeah, well..." Alex began, and then his eyes caught on Taer, whom he had completely forgotten about with the whole "interrogation" thing. He rushed over to the "specialist" inwardly freezing and checking a pulse. He sighed heavily. Alive.

"We need to get her to a hospital right away. She has lost a lot of blood and may have hurt her lung."

Kayrin, without saying anything, disappeared into Taer's room and returned with a small plastic case with a complicated green sign on the lid:

"I'll take care of Taer for now." She informed him as she removed his improvised belt tourniquet and wrapped some sort of instantly healed tape around the wound. "You get the servants to contact the hospital and get your Arm up. And explain to me what's going on!"

"The communicator is damaged, and I can't remember what else to call them," Alex confessed. "I don't know what happened, but I woke up, and Taer was shooting a blaster at someone in the hallway, but I couldn't see who. Then something threw me out of bed, and something whizzed across the room, cutting everything. When it all settled down, Taer's arm was cut off. She said it was a Shapeshifter and that they were extinct, then she added something, not in English, and said, I don't want..."

"Not in what she added it?" Kayrin interjected.

Although her face wasn't visible because she was leaning over the specialist injecting her with a red tube, you could see her tense up:

"In another language." Alex fumbled. "Said something in another language, then "I don't want to," and passed out. From shock, blood loss, or both." He added, looking sympathetically at the motionless Taer."

"What did she say in another language?" The baroness asked as she continued to work on the 'specialist'.

"I don't remember exactly..." Alex stretched, squinting his eyes up and trying to remember exactly what the Taer had said. "Gor azat vazor, I think it was..."

Kayrin obviously tensed up again: "We need to call the police urgently, or better still, a squad of Guards from the Representation."

"The communicator doesn't work." Alex reminded her. "And what do those words mean, by the way?"

"It's the language of the 'branch of the flame'."Kay frowned. "I don't know it very well, but 'Gor' means enemy, and 'zor' means reinforcement. That's why we have to call in the police and guards as a matter of urgency. There should be a room near your bedroom with servants on duty. Tell them to look for the communicator."

"I'll go and find them then..." Alex started towards the exit but was stopped by the Baroness:

"No, you'd better stay here with Taer in case the attacker is still in the castle."

"But then, who would call the police and the servants?" He objected.

"I'll make a quick run for it," Kayrin suggested, but then, seeing Alex's gaze, she added. "Okay, we'll make a quick run for it, and I don't think anything's going to happen to Taer."

Within two minutes, Lord Cassard and Baroness Rionale had dropped in on the unsuspecting maids on duty, nearly fainting the poor girl. Whether it was the way Alex looked - he was wearing only his pants and covered in blood from head to toe. Or the tone in which Kayrin demanded that they get out and quickly find a working communicator and the steward with pilots.

Panic and commotion quickly filled the waking castle. Soon Lord Cassard's bedroom, despite its imposing size, was crowded. The guests, servants, droids, a crowd of half-dressed people bustling about. Soon the droids assisted Taer was hoisted onto a makeshift stretcher of the two hovering platforms used to serve the table, and accompanied by Kayrin and two pilots, she headed for the garages. Alex lingered a little longer. He tried a seemingly primitive thing: two bags, one filled with ice and water and the other empty and dry, to save his hand. But the servants just didn't seem to understand him. Especially as it turned out that no communicators worked in the castle, and it was impossible to explain anything to the people on the spot - they had to send "messengers".

Finally, Barra, who proved to be the cleverest, came running in with two bags of something that looked like foil and a bucket of ice. And Alex, together with Lord Brenor, who was also soaked in blood, inwardly shuddering with horror, packed the limb first into a dry bag and then plunged it into the bucket of ice:

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure why we did it, Lord Cassard." Lord Brenor, who had dropped in the day before as he had promised to "pay a visit" and check on his health after the assassination, confessed. "Wouldn't it have been easier to use a freezer or just put ice on it?"

"The thing is Lord Lister, that direct contact with ice..." Alex began, but then there was a pulsing howl from the traction generators, a dry snap, and blue ball lightning exploded with a violent crack under the bedroom ceiling. A savage, unbearable pain burned his entire body, and Alex collapsed to the floor, cramped.

His body was completely disobedient. He couldn't even move his eyes. His consciousness was trapped in an unruly, inert statue. Massive, angular metal boots came into view, then another. Something snapped again as if a huge lash had struck the water, and a bursting ball of discharge crackled somewhere far away. Someone flipped it over, and Alex saw a figure bent over him, clad in a black, oily gleaming spacesuit with a sheer opaque visor.

Here comes the reinforcement of the enemy, he thought, as he, frozen as a motionless monolith, was carelessly taken by the shoulder, lifted lightly with one hand, and dragged somewhere. We should have left at once.

He was thrown into the open side door of some vehicle hovering opposite the bedroom. The yellowish porous surface of the floor threw itself against him and hit him in the face. Soon the aerocar was rocking from the massive passengers scrambling inside, the door slammed, and the engines howled:

"What demons!" There was an angry cry from somewhere overhead. "What is this?"

"All who matched the description of the target." There was a clear challenge in the tone of the man who answered.

"Oh, shit! Why didn't you just blow them all to all shadows?!"

"The Grand insisted that identification had to be done, and they were all covered in blood. It would take a long time to analyze. You interrupted the operation yourself! What was I supposed to do?"

"Blow up the whole floor!" Shouted the first speaker. "Not dragging them on board!"

Alex, who was slowly regaining his ability to move, turned his head gently.

The rather spacious saloon, clad in light beige plastic, was cluttered with massive figures in black spacesuits and weapons. Six people sat along the walls. One seat was empty, and the seat opposite was occupied by a ruptured spacesuit with a huge fused gash on its chest.

One of those freaks must have got to him after all. With satisfaction, Alex thought, he noticed some kind of weapon not far from him, placed between the seats, with a massive perforated barrel and a muzzle into which his fist would fit freely: If I could reach it... But the body listened very badly.

"Come on. You're making a lot of noise." It came from above. "Let's identify this Cassard of yours, run a scan, slash, and throw the body out."

"No, fuck, once we got them alive, let Grand... look, this one's moving..." And a blinding ball of pain exploded in Alex's head, and he whirled off into the darkness somewhere.
* * *

RiP · May 14, 2023

Chapter 24
* * *
It was one of the most disgusting awakenings of his life - so bad he felt. His shoulders and collarbones hurt like someone was trying to tear both his arms off. His head hurt like a monster, and the burn on his cheek ached. Alex almost groaned, but the memory of what had preceded this awakening burst into consciousness, silencing him. He froze, trying to keep the sleeper's breathing pace, and began to listen carefully, trying to understand where he was and who was around him.

A light, a faint breeze blew around him, and it was quite cool. He might have thought he was in "nature" somewhere, but the air smelt of old dust.

Some large abandoned room.

Next to him, someone's breathing and some quiet clinking could be heard a monotonous "machine" noise was coming from somewhere in the distance

There is definitely one person nearby, and the noise seems to be sounds from the street.

"Well, well, your lordship," a dry, old voice rumbled close by, almost making Alex flinch. "Don't pretend! The biomonitor shows you awake..."

Realizing that the little performance had failed, he struggled to open one eye and, squinting at the unexpectedly bright light, looked around.

Right above him, clutching in his hand something resembling a massive calculator with a large screen, stood an elderly grey-haired man with a small "academic" beard and lively, slanting eyes of a light grey color that stood out vividly in his wrinkled face.

So the rebels weren't lying after all - at least the professor was involved.

Alex was almost one hundred percent sure that Professor Takkar was in front of him - he had seen him in person on the Voigrom and on the recording that the "resistance" had passed on. There the professor was discussing his murder with Lord Velaske and some mysterious stranger who remained offscreen.

Well, the footage appears to be authentic. It remains to be seen why the dean of Tallana University would want to kill me, Alex decided as he continued to look around actively.

The huge room, which at first seemed so brightly lit, was drowned in darkness - the long, elongated cylinders of lights were lost somewhere in the height of the dark ceiling slabs. As far as the eye could see, several square sand-colored containers were piled high, displaying the word 'Yummy' alongside a smiling cartoonish face. Stacked on top of each other and stacked in tight rows, the containers formed a bizarre landscape of 'mountains', 'canyons', and entire 'plateaus'.

In one of these "canyons," his captors seemed to have settled down. Right in the middle of the improvised corridor, formed by two solid "walls" of containers, was a long metal table with some kind of equipment, above which three holo-screens glowed like ghostly canvases.

At the table, on a small folding stool, sat a young man in his thirties, looking back at Alex, with an unusually athletic build. On his lap, a weapon that looked like a submachine gun gleamed with dark metal. Two more of the guerrillas leaned absently against the opposite wall. All three wore light, loose brown jackets, gray trousers, and what looked like white trainers with high ankle grips.

A young man was sitting squatting in front of Alex. His blond hair and reddish beard were sparsely disheveled, and his "uniform" brown jacket only accentuated the thinness of its owner. He held an injector in his hand and his agile, slightly slanted gray eyes stared in curiosity at Alex. Beside him stood Professor Takkar himself, his jacket unbuttoned and simply slung over his shoulders, making it obvious that the gray trousers were actually part of his overalls.

To the left and right of Alex stood two plastic chairs.

On the left, covered in blood, half-naked, and clearly unconscious, was Lord Brenor Lister. Lord Brenor seemed to have picked a very bad time to visit Lord Cassard.

On the right, a dark-haired man in his thirties, dressed like the other kidnappers, sat with his hands cuffed behind his back. There was a bleeding abrasion on his left cheek and a smashed lower lip. He had been dragged over something rough and dirty for a long time judging by the state of his clothes. The left pant leg of his grey trousers was burned just below the knee and a crimson-black wound was visible through the hole. He was staring at Takkar steadily, his pale green eyes radiating such fury and anger that he looked as if he were about to vaporize him. The injured man's face looked familiar to Alex...

"Still, the blood could have been washed off." The professor remarked grudgingly as he finished looking at Alex. Turning to the young lad, he ordered:

"Give their lordship some kind of stimulant or painkiller, or they won't believe he's alive when they look at him."

"It's all nerves," Alex complained, trying to remember where he might have seen the wounded man. "One assassination attempt, then another - there was no rest at all!"

"Well, then you should be grateful to us," smiled Professor Takkar as he watched his assistant's manipulations, "for the three days' sleep we have provided you. I think that's enough to get you a good night's sleep."

The lad took a clear cylinder of blue liquid from the small plastic case lying at his feet and filled it into the injector.

The cold metal of the injector's head touched his skin, and a sharp pain burned Alex's shoulder, sending searing shivers down his body.

"Anything else?" The guy asked as he looked up at the professor.

"No, no, Yuta, go ahead. Thank you." Takkar waved his hands and turned back to his prisoners after a glance at the young man.

"How are you feeling, your lordship," he asked, leaning over Alex.

"That's better now.? Alex smiled tautly, not taking his eyes off the injured man.

That's right! I definitely saw him at the Voigrom - he was among Liora's men.

"That's good. You had an exceptionally sickly look."

"Maybe you can untie my hands," Alex suggested, nodding toward the bored guards. "You've got a lot of guards, and my shoulders hurt like hell."

"No, that is unnecessary, your lordship," the professor shook his head, "the buyer might not understand."

"...and it would be quite wonderful if you could tell me where I am." "His Lordship continued his thought.

"This is the Yummy Company's automated warehouse." Takkar's hand circled the jumble of containers in a matter-of-fact manner. "It's a great place. You just have to hack into the central unit and you've got a lot of space. It's can accommodate heavy freighters and shuttles, all without any prying eyes. There are none here at all - only droids. So no one's going to bother us. Ironic, isn't it?" He asked, turning to Alex again, seeing the incomprehension in his eyes:

"You own the Yummy company almost entirely."

"Yes?" The new owner was surprised and glanced around the warehouse. "Very nice." He concluded and looked at Takkar disapprovingly:

"So you're also a burglar and robber! It's a bit shameful for the dean of the University of Tallan... Or is it a hobby?"

"I have to admit, Lord Cassard," the professor said with a chuckle, his gaze fixed on his face, "you're very confident, even a little insolent. I would have expected you to behave a little differently - don't you want to offer us money?"

"I had that thought," Alex admitted, "but unfortunately, I forgot my wallet in my breast pocket..." The only clothes he was wearing were his blood-stained hunting trousers.

The professor came even closer and looked into his prisoner's eyes with undisguised curiosity:

"You know, your lordship, I have a confession to make... When the fourth attempt failed, I had a thought unworthy of a true scholar. I thought, Is all this nonsense about the Blessing of the Flame really true? Your luck was way beyond statistical limits, and the fact that you'd survived a double dose of gray dust defies common sense. And now you're as calm as an ascended man..." Takkar stretched thoughtfully.

... And suddenly and forcefully, he struck the prisoner in the face with the back of his palm.

Alex jerked from the impact, almost falling over with the chair, and hissed in pain.

Come on, you bastard, just let me get out...

"I see, Grand, you're already in full communion of minds with the SS." The injured man wheezed and spat blood at the professor's feet. "The manners are the same, only missing the black uniform. Maybe you should ask your friends. Wouldn't they say no?"

"You're wrong, Krain." The professor objected. "It was a science experiment." He grabbed Alex by the chin and turned him to face the wounded man:

"Look at him! His eyes are full of anger and fear, the usual animal fear for his life! Could he possibly be Ascended?" he 'demonstrated' Alex for a few seconds, and then he must have decided it was enough.

"And as for you..." Takkar stretched out, wiping his palm with a handkerchief taken from his pocket with squeamish care. "I have my share of guilt, of course: discipline must be maintained even in the case of traitors, and there will be penalties for violators."

"Traitor..." laughed the injured man hoarsely. "Coming from a man who had sold out the entire Resistance Network on Tallana, that sounded like a compliment."

"Fool!" The Professor threw an irritated look at the words that seemed to have hurt him. "I didn't sell the resistance. I created it. I gave it a real purpose - Rebellion! Not painting toothless proclamations on the walls. The Empire can only be broken by force! But you, Kraine, are a traitor! You didn't just leave the PVD. You surrendered everything you knew to those snot-nosed "Anti-Imperial Alliance" brats and this foolish attempt to free Lord Cassard." Takkar shook his head, disappointed. "Not to mention the sheer insanity of it - how many people would have been killed or sent to penal servitude?"

"You have already sold them out!" The injured man shouted and jerked towards the professor but collapsed to the floor with the chair to which he was chained and, raising his face distorted with anger, he growled:

"You sold out the entire underground! Five years of our labor will die on Tallana when the Imperial fleet returns. Your rebellion is doomed, and you know it. You are a provocateur!" He literally spat that last accusation out along with the blood.

"Yes, this rebellion is doomed." Takkar agreed, gesturing for the guards to stop. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "It is a necessary sacrifice-it will show that the Empire is not all-powerful, that it can be resisted. This rebellion will spawn thousands more. Isn't that what we've been dreaming of? Haven't we, Kraine?"

"The Emperor will just get what he wants! He will declare a State of Emergency, and there will be no trace of freedom in the Tail Sector - just another faceless Imperial Region. There won't be a second uprising. There won't be thousands more just like it. Everyone will have Tallana in front of them, and no one will want to repeat its fate."

"Yes, they will declare a State of Emergency," agreed the professor. "So much the better! Sector Tail will feel the imperial boot on its own skin and then they will understand why it is necessary to fight against the empire. The more brutal the pressure, the more fighters and support the Resistance will get. Too bad you don't understand that, Kraine..." He waved a hand at one of the guards and a blue paralyzer beam struck the wounded man.

"Well, I know the answer to the first question that's been bothering me," Takkar muttered. "Now all that remains is the answer to the second." he turned to a silent Alex.

"What is the name of the adept you hired to protect you, and how did you come upon him?" Takkar asked, and, squinting menacingly, he added. "And, believe me, I have worse things in my arsenal than a slap in the face."

"I didn't hire an adept," Alex said as clearly as possible, coping with his initial surprise at the question.

"Well, what's the point..." the professor grimaced, squatting in front of the open case with the cylinders for the injector. "Your resistance friend and failed savior is paralyzed, so why the show of heroism? You don't have to show off for me, young man. I know for a fact that there was an Adept. I even know the profile of the adept - it was a telepath and quite strong. And you know that the Adept was..."

He took the injector and filled it with a cylinder of clear liquid marked with a green stripe.

"...... And we both know you don't have a blockage, so you're going to tell everything anyway. Either voluntarily or after the injection of Lim's serum. So how about we talk like civilized people? Believe me," he pointed to the loaded injector, "you don't need to test it on yourself."

Stirlitz said: study, study. The inner voice came to life, and despite the horror of the situation, Alex's face contorted into a wry grin. I didn't hire an adept, but that beautifully intelligent man wouldn't believe me; you could certainly call Kayrin...

Alex had certain suspicions about her... even a whole wagonload of suspicions. If anyone in the castle was an adept, it was her.

But then again, he won't believe me... And why? They want to kill me anyway...

"You're not saying anything?" The professor raised an eyebrow skeptically and shook his head dejectedly. "In vain, your lordship, in vain..."

Takkar held the injector up to Alex's shoulder, who stared at it mesmerized:

If I bite him and fall on top of him, the guards might well paralyze me in the commotion. He thought, trying to figure out where to bite - the jacket looked pretty sturdy. Stupid, of course, but at least some moral satisfaction and a break from the interrogation.

"Grand, the aerocar has arrived with Lord. He'll be right with you." There was a young voice, and Alex peripherally saw a young helper appear from somewhere on the side from behind the containers.

"Splendid." Takkar sighed in relief as he put the injector down. "He's made up his mind! Get ready to go!" He ordered the guards, who were boredly propping up the containers, and turned back to Alex:

"Well, as you can see, business. You, your lordship, will have to wait a little longer." The professor said as he put the injector back in the case and closed it. "Think it over. Well, why should you deny the obvious?"

The wait was not long, and soon footsteps were heard from somewhere to the right of the containers, and three men stepped into the makeshift "corridor": a muscular dark-haired man in his forties, dressed in a short light tunic and loose dark trousers, and two guards in black tunics trimmed with blue cord.

It's Lord Velaske! Alex thought in surprise when he saw the brunette. It's like a convention of those who want to kill Lord Cassard - the only thing missing is a mysterious woman.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" The Professor smiled warmly and spread his arms as if he were going to embrace Lord Velaske.

"You have no idea, Grand, what it has cost me to sneak onto Talana now, during the Rebellion," the brunette grimaced and paused before he could reach the professor for a few steps. "I hope what you want to show me is worth it."

"Oh, believe me, you won't be disappointed!" The professor took a step to the side, revealing a view of Alex chained to a chair, and made an inviting gesture with his hand as if to invite him to examine the trophy.

"So you got him alive after all!" Lord Velaske's voice was an odd mix of envy and amazement. "We had agreed that your men would destroy him..."

"Yes, we had planned to destroy him," Professor Takkar nodded, "but there was a mishap, and he was taken alive. And then it occurred to me that it was an incredible stroke of luck. Imagine the news headlines - Lord Cassard was captured by the Cholan Conspirators..."

Lord Velaske froze in deep thought, but then after about a minute his face lit up with inspiration:

"You're goddamn right!" In excitement, he began to pace the makeshift corridor with vigorous steps. "This is going to be great! First, they'll go on the planetary channels with some insane demand and show the captured Lord Cassard, and then, when they're turned down, they'll kill him live on air! Cassard will explode! Secondarist will explode! Yes, it's a godsend! This is going to be great!" He paused, silent for a moment, snapped his fingers, and turned to the Professor. "Well, I'll take it from here!"

"I'm glad I could help you." Takkar bowed his head slightly. "But, Your Lordship," the Professor's face grew anxious, "perhaps you could take my men to guard him. Tallana is swarming with Fyron's agents, looking for Lord Cassard," he jerked the paralyzed man carelessly with his boot, "they must have known something, and you only have two guards."

"Nonsense!" Lord Velaske brushed me off. "There are six more people waiting for me in the aerocar. In any case, I am not going to linger on Tallana." He beckoned to his guards. "Take him away, but be careful."

Lord Velaske's guards moved toward Alex...

And at that moment Professor Takkar looked expressively at the brown-jacketed men who were idly propping up the containers and closed his eyes. The fighters, who had previously been bored with their interior decorations, raised their weapons with surprising and clearly rehearsed synchronicity, and the room filled with the howl of blaster discharges.

Two shrieking scarlet jets struck the lord's guards in the back and exploded in a string of purple orbs, devouring flesh in flashes of black smoke and scatterings of scarlet sparks. The guards, knocked off their feet by the bursts, collapsed to the floor as broken black puppets before they could even draw their weapons.

A third sliver of discharges struck Lord Velaske himself, smashing into the mirrored haze of the flaring personal shield. His face was still in surprise before it could be replaced by anger, and his hand reflexively tore off the hilt of his sword. The flaming golden blade swung at the professor's head with incredible speed, but the shield was struck by the volleys of two more of the freed fighters.

The mirrored cocoon of the shield burst with a sound like a mournful sigh, and a furious jumble of blasts cut Lord Velaske open, striking him in the stomach. He collapsed in half with an indescribable crunch of shattering flesh, caught in a whirlwind of purple sparks. The golden blade of the sword, which the lord never let go of, sizzled and cracked into the ribbed floorboards at Alex's feet.

The unwillingly frozen professor, the blade missing by some twenty centimeters, exhaled a long sigh of relief and walked over to Lord Velaske's body, switched off his sword, and signaled to the guards. The fighters moved closer to the defeated bodies, and the room lit up with short bursts of check shots to the face.

"Yeah..." Takkar stretched, staring thoughtfully at Velaske's remains, "Shadows only give you warning once..." He involuntarily twitched. "He must have suspected something. All right then. Go and help the others with the ones in the aerocar," he ordered the men, glancing at Alex with a sneering look:

"Why are you so quiet, Lord Cassard?"

"I didn't want to disturb the conversation between business partners," Alex replied mechanically, still dumbfounded by the scene.

He lowered his gaze to the upper half of Lord Velaske's body, lying at his feet. Below his waist, the muscular brunette was a blackened head, exuding a nauseating stench of burning meat. A lump rose in his throat, and Alex looked away, trying to breathe through his mouth.

"Well, what do you..." brushed Professor Takkar off, also looking thoughtfully at the remains. "It's not a partnership, just a... temporary alliance. Their lordship was going to do about the same thing to me... maybe more formally, but... You nobles tend to underestimate commoners, and, thanks to that, I got there early. As it was, I was practically no longer needed even on the contrary, once the state of emergency was imposed, the new authorities would certainly want to demonstrate their effectiveness and bring the head of the main firestarter, i.e....."

And Alex, continuing to pretend to listen to the professor, observed the surprising phenomenon with interest.

One of Lord Velaske's slain guards lifted his head, his eyes showing through the smudged mishmash of blaster wounds that had replaced his face. His hand rose unhurriedly with a kind of majestic slowness. A wave slowly swept through it, and in the guard's palm was a tiny silver pistol. Or a blaster.

The small blaster in the hand of the rising guard hummed softly, and a tiny blue ball of disgruntled wasp padded forward.

"So, well, if SS gives me a blaster to shoot the empire, I'll use it, but that doesn't mean..."

The professor faltered as the discharge burst against the back of his head with a dry hissing crack, and he swayed and collapsed to the floor face down, almost catching the chair with Alex under it. The back of Professor Takkar's head was a smoking dark gash half as deep as his head.

I just hope the THING doesn't think it's worth shooting me, Alex thought hopefully as he watched the "guard" slowly rise with the same unhurried majesty and approach him in the same smooth manner.

"Er, man, what do you need all this for now?" Alex smiled. "Your employer's dead anyway, so whether you kill me or not, nothing's going to change. Why don't you help me get out of here? And then I'll reward you. I have a lot of money, believe me!"

The strange creature, still keeping a sepulchral silence, approached Takkar's body and turned him over on his back. He leaned over him. The features of the 'guardian' faltered, and with a crunching crack of gelled crust the professor's face emerged from under the wound, then the torso came...

A moment later, Alex watched as the freshly minted Professor Takkar slowly, as if floating through syrup, dragged the body of the former professor behind the containers.

"Be quiet, please, Lord Cassard," the creature turned to him slowly, hiding Takkar's body. "When I return, we shall talk." With these words, the "professor" walked at a leisurely pace in the same direction as the brown-jacketed fighters had gone.

It was only when he was alone with himself that Alex realized how scared he had been all this time. The cheerful indifference in his conversation with the professor was in fact a manifestation of complete despair. He was chained and there was nothing he could do about it, the only question was how would he be killed - quickly or slowly? From his point of view - almost equal options.

What difference does it make in how damaged his body is if he ends up dead anyway?

So the professor was right. There was no "tranquillity of the ascended" in him at all.

He dismissed the idea of bribing Takkar and his men at once - if they really needed the money, they would have demanded it themselves and immediately. And they would not have tried to kill him earlier.

No, the bastard was clearly an idealist, Alex thought, looking thoughtfully toward the container behind which the werewolf had hidden the professor's body. Just hope Lord Velaske's sidekick isn't just as principled.

Though he sat still chained to the chair, hope loomed before him. Lord Velaske's body, still smoldering below the waist like slowly cooling embers, exuded heat, and a disgusting stench. Professor Takkar, with his head, shot through, lay behind a nearby container. Everyone who wanted to kill him was dead. And now all that was left to do was to get out of here in as whole as possible:

I don't think the shapeshifter is an idealistic guy... He was with Lord Velaske, and he didn't seem like an idealistic fighter - more like a purely self-serving schemer. So the shapeshifter was probably working for money. Now his employer is dead, and there's no reason to do the job... Alex reasoned rather trying to convince himself.

The idea that the shapeshifter had been hired by House Melato, for example, or a mysterious stranger or someone else, and Lord Velaske was nothing more than a "customer representative" was stubbornly ignored by Alex as completely unpromising for him.

And if so, why think about it?

Five minutes later, after giving Alex a chance to torture himself with thoughts and assumptions, the shapeshifter appeared. Still, in the guise of Professor Takkar, he stepped with leisurely slowness into the makeshift "corridor" littered with bodies - paralyzed and dead - and, in deadly silence, began to perform strange manipulations:

"Erm... venerable..." Alex stretched out cautiously, tired of watching as the shapeshifter carefully and, as usual - very slowly, shined some sort of small red torch shaped like a lighter over Lord Velaske's body. The red flickering spot of light probed literally every inch. "Shall we talk?"

"Don't worry, your lordship. I'll make time for you." Slowly, carefully separating the words, the 'Professor' replied without stopping his manipulations.

After about a minute and a half, which seemed like an eternity to Alex, the shapeshifter finished scanning the body. And the torch was replaced by a transparent needle two fingers long, which he drove into Lord Velaske's neck. The withdrawn needle, filled with pinkish-red flesh, was capped and returned to where it had come from, directly into his hand.

Looks like he's carrying the equipment right inside him, Alex decided, glancing after the shapeshifter, who, having finished with Lord Velaske, headed towards the container behind which Professor Takkar's body was hidden. Where he expectedly stayed for another two minutes.

"You said something about gratitude, your lordship," the shapeshifter reminded me, stepping out from behind the container.

He walked over to Alex and, pushing Velaske's body aside with his foot, crouched on the floor. "His Lordship" licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Any reasonable amount," he offered with a slightly less confident look than he would have liked. "As soon as you help me... I mean, us... out of here." He corrected himself, remembering Lord Brennor and the wounded 'resister'.

Still, according to Takkar, this guy was trying to save me and had already saved me once, as had Brenor

"And it will be more than he would have paid you anyway..." Alex added with a nod at Lord Velaske's body lying next door.

"Lord Velaske was not my employer." The shapeshifter objected, confirming the worst assumptions.

"What difference does it make?" Alex smiled and tried to shrug his shoulders. "In any case, I can pay more. Let's say two million denarii once we get out of here."

"The Code forbids me to accept a contract I cannot fulfill," the 'Professor' shook his head. "I am badly injured and already very slow, and soon I will lose my ability to move. The least I can do is remove the handcuffs. How much would you pay for such a service?"

"How about a hundred thousand denarii and the possibility of further employment?" Alex suggested, continuing to smile charmingly. "That's a good sum, huh? Maybe not much, but considering I can't give you any guarantees, it's very realistic. You can demand more, of course, and I can say yes... but I'll end up paying as much as I can afford. And I am all for maximum sincerity in relations with future partners, and I certainly don't feel sorry for a hundred thousand!"

The shapeshifter was frozen like a wax statue for a while, and then his face came to life, slowly stretching out in a smile:

"Interesting way of speaking, Lord Cassard. You're right. A hundred thousand is good money for a small favor that requires no effort. Especially since I don't have much choice..." He stood up, and a familiar silver pistol jumped into his hand. "And as for employment, thank you for the offer, but for now, I am satisfied with my current employer."

"Hey, come on, I thought we had a deal!" Alex started to object, frantically trying to think of an argument. "If you don't like something, there's always room for maneuver and concessions... something could be reconsidered..."

"We do have a deal, Lord Cassard." The shapeshifter nodded slowly. "And I am counting on your word. And as for this..." his blaster's hand moved slightly, "don't be afraid, I'll just paralyze you before I release you."

"But, why?!" Alex wondered sincerely. "Frankly, I don't feel well enough as it is, and another paralysis would be unnecessary. Besides, it's a waste of time."

"You wouldn't believe, your lordship, how many people honestly believe that if one eats the eighth slice of a dying shapeshifter, one can gain its power... In my condition, I wouldn't want to take that chance." He extended his arm forward, aiming for Alex's chest. "And as for time, don't worry. It'll take less than a minute..."

The tiny silver blaster hummed softly, a flash of discharge, icy flames engulfing his chest, and Alex, thinking Damn! Why again..., fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.
* * *

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Starfall (Sci-Fi/No Harem/Isekai/No OP/)

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

perfectgeneral Know what you're doing yet?

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

perfectgeneral Know what you're doing yet?

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

perfectgeneral Know what you're doing yet?

RiP Seeker of Silence

RiP Seeker of Silence

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Starfall (Sci-Fi/No Harem/Isekai/No OP/)

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