Book II. Chapter 96 - The Congress (Part 6)

Chapter 96

The Colonel’s office looked the same as always. It was still unjustifiably large and therefore seemed empty, even somewhat abandoned. Only the lack of dust on the heavy desk, the several settees, and the single coffee table situated at the foot of the massive bookcase hinted at the fact that someone inhabited this place. They inhabited it and cleaned it regularly.

And sometimes, the heavy curtains and the fine tulle covering the windows were changed. This likely wasn’t done for the sake of secrecy (multiple stationary shields surrounded the Black House in general, and the office of its de facto leader in particular), but out of habit.

There was also a false cabinet concealing the pneumatic mail’s tubes, a portrait of His Imperial Majesty on the wall, and the Colonel—who had put on yet more weight—twirling a lollipop between his fingers. Ardi had heard that smoking suppressed one’s appetite, and judging by the strikingly-altered constitution of the formerly lean second in command of the Second Chancery, the rumors hadn’t lied.

And beside Ardi was... no, not Major Mshisty, who had accompanied the young man and the Colonel to the Black House, or even Captain Ponskih. To Ardan’s left sat none other than Captain Pnev. Milar, unlike the Colonel, had not renounced tobacco, even though his wife had insisted upon it.

Milar fought his habit desperately, and sometimes even won their brief skirmishes, but the war was still being won by the tobacco. A cigarette singed the captain’s fingers, and he, with a curt “Shit!” tossed it into the already-full ashtray.

“I categorically agree,” the Colonel tapped his lollipop against its saucer. “This entire situation can be described with nothing else but that word, Captain.”

“Eternal Angels, Magister!” Milar couldn’t contain himself and turned to Ardan. “What would it have cost you to raise the alarm!?”

“That particular oversight isn’t really a problem, Captain,” the Colonel said—surprising both Ard and Milar—and for the first time since he’d met him, he took Ardan’s side on a matter of professional conduct. “Ard, please explain things to the Captain.”

Ardan sighed. Despite everything else he had managed to recount over the past three and a half hours, including his motives and thoughts, he hadn’t included one final detail.

“When I lived among the beasts-”

“Not the best opening, Magister,” Milar squinted at him, but a wave of the Colonel’s hand silenced Ardi’s partner.

“As I was saying... Sometimes, in order for one pack of hunters to come fight for another’s territory, they didn’t need to see with their own eyes that the residents had weakened.” Ardan twirled a pencil between his fingers, occasionally leaving small scribbles on a page of his investigator’s notepad. “It was enough for the rumor to spread through the forest. And we are guarding the Congress. The most important event on the planet. The entire capital is one enormous Shamtur right now. And it doesn’t even matter why the alarm might go up. What matters is that everyone would learn that the Empire missed. It let a foreign hunter approach its den. One who passed through every barrier, every line of defense, and even if that hunter were to be caught, the mere existence of said breach would have led to dire consequences.”

Ardan fell silent, and the Colonel saluted him with his lollipop, which looked simultaneously amusing and, given who precisely was holding the sugary treat, somewhat alarming.

“Sometimes, you must look at the bigger picture, Captain,” the Colonel leaned back in his chair with a practiced motion. “The Congress must proceed as quietly as humanly possible. Raising the alarm would have dealt serious damage not only to the country’s reputation, but to this building as well.” The Colonel jabbed his finger at his desk. “Any distress signal near the Crown Hotel is a direct threat to the safety of foreign ambassadors. Which would mean that we not only allowed such a threat to slip past us, but that we also let it—as the Corporal put it—approach our den.”

Milar was silent for a time, then spread his hands out.

“Politics isn’t my area,” was all the Captain said.

“Then-” Ardi began, but was cut off as well.

“The fact that your actions were justified by the situation and its potential consequences, Corporal, does not mean you are off the hook,” the Colonel pointed at Ard with a decidedly categorical gesture, as though he were holding not a lollipop, but a revolver. “As you yourself stated, you were motivated not by the Empire’s reputation, but by your investigation. So, let’s say I won’t be sending you back as Lieutenant Kornosskiy’s subordinate, but don’t expect any awards, either. You acted rashly. You basically tripped on flat ground. And only by the will of the Eternal Angels did you manage not to smash your own nose in the fall. And ours along with it.”

Ardan nodded contritely. He truly hadn’t given much thought to how the Empire would look if he’d raised the alarm at the hotel several hours ago. Yes, the Congress would most likely have been immediately derailed, and every newspaper headline across the planet would have called the Empire every name under the sun, but... the Colonel was right. Ardi hadn’t been thinking about that. And yet, this did not negate the coincidental good he’d done.

“And what will our reputation say about the fact that we’ve brought two battalions and four Grand Magisters to Government Square?” Milar asked, glumly propping his cheek on his fist.

“Whatever it likes,” the Colonel shrugged briefly, his face still not betraying a single emotion. “Our foreign guests, along with the press traveling in their delegations, can spin whatever theories they please. They can call it everything from a show of force to pure paranoia. I don’t care. Without clear evidence that a Dark Aean’Hane—as the Corporal called him—was strolling through the hotel, they don’t have the right cards in hand. And speaking of cards,” the Colonel nodded toward the sealed glass box that held the finger bone of the Tazidahian mutant. “Are you certain that the body cannot be discovered, Corporal?”

“I am,” Ardan answered without hesitation. “Apart from this fragment, it no longer exists.”

“Excellent,” the Colonel praised him just as emotionlessly as before. “Captain Pnev...”

Milar opened the folder he had been carrying. Ardi didn’t fully understand what position his partner occupied in the Congress security forces, but it was most likely far from a rank-and-file one.

“The top floor was inspected with all due thoroughness.”

“I should hope so,” the Colonel muttered.

“We found no traces of the Herb of Gentle Dreams in the air, water, or on any articles of clothing or utensils,” Milar continued, and a chill ran down Ardan’s spine. “They were nowhere at all… except! Except for a small stub inside a lamp. The lab people have already analyzed it and confirmed that yes, it is the Herb of Gentle Dreams. Our dear Magister here likely made the Puppeteers nervous, and in their haste, they didn’t clean up their traces as well as they could have. So, Ardi’s account is corroborated in this regard as well.”

“Any theories on how exactly they smuggled it into the hotel?”

Milar nodded and indicated the sheets of paper laid out before the Colonel.

“It’s all in the reports.”

“I would like to hear your interpretation, Captain.”

Milar cast a quick glance toward Ardan and, with a sigh, continued just as gloomily as before:

“We’ve quietly questioned all the checkpoints, and the lab people pulled readings from the stationary shields. And if we discard the most implausible theories, which read more like fairy tales, then... the Herb was already in the hotel for a considerable length of time. It was likely there along with several other means of circumventing our security measures.”

“Which means that...” The Colonel prompted.

“Which means that the Puppeteers planted their secrets during the hotel’s last major renovation.”

“Which was...”

“Seven years ago, Colonel, sir,” Milar finished with a sigh.

Silence settled over the office, broken only by the scratching of Ard’s pencil as it drew meaningless scribbles. Seven years... For seven years, the Herb of Gentle Dreams and Sleeping Spirits only knew what else had lurked within the hotel’s walls. For seven years, the Puppeteers had held another piece in reserve, only moving it across the board at precisely the right moment.

“Well then…” Only the Colonel, it seemed, was completely unimpressed by what he had just heard. “We’d already suspected that we were dealing with a rather lengthy conspiracy. And now we have received further proof of our assumption.” Tapping his lollipop against its saucer once more, the Colonel turned to Ard. “Corporal, what are your theories—what exactly were the Dark One and his allies looking for in the Tazidahian Brotherhood’s rooms?”

Ardan had already thought about this. He’d thought about it all the way from Markov Canal to the Black House. Something told him that, if he didn’t produce a suitable answer, then even if he was destined to leave the Second Chancery building, it would be with an express ticket to the other end of the continent to join a certain mutant and vampire.

“There are several possibilities, Colonel,” Ard cleared his throat and, all but copying Milar’s gesture, flipped through the pages of his notepad. “At first, I thought this might be related to the blueprints and records of the High Elves that we obtained from the house of the Dan... of Arthur Belsky’s father-in-law.”

“Yes, yes... I recall your escapade with Peter Oglanov, Corporal, which ended at the very doorstep of the Brotherhood’s embassy,” the Colonel waved his hand vaguely in the air. “Continue.”

“Alright,” Ardi returned to his notes. “But, on the other hand, if we assume that the Puppeteers still have a mole in the Black House—and no evidence to the contrary has been found in the equa... so far, I mean—then the Puppeteers must know the blueprint is in our possession. Thus, this possibility is eliminated.”

Ardan paused and looked up at Milar and the Colonel. This was his first time reporting directly to the Emperor’s left hand about something directly pertinent to the course of their investigation, not merely his thoughts. Alas, both the captain and the Colonel maintained their stony expressions. Only after several moments did Milar realize what the problem was and he gave him an encouraging, barely-perceptible nod.

Ardan continued.

“Then I hypothesized that the matter might be related to the Key, that mysterious object that makes it so we need to find the body of the mutant, Alla Tantov, who once worked for Trevor Man. He, in turn, had been helping the Puppeteers and even intended to use them for his own selfish goals.”

“Which didn’t work out for him, but netted the Crown half of the ‘Bri-&-Man’ company,” the Colonel confirmed. “That doesn’t sound terribly plausible, Corporal. I can see where you’re going with it. Mutants, Tazidahians—it all sounds rather connected, but...”

The Colonel fell silent, returning the floor to Ardan.

“Yes, Colonel. If this had been about the Key, then the Puppeteers wouldn’t have needed to resort to such extreme measures to obtain it. A meeting and handoff could have been arranged at any time and in any place, not in the Crown Hotel, which is protected-”

“Not as well as we had assumed,” the Colonel interrupted him again. “But do continue, Corporal. I still haven’t heard a single viable theory from you.”

Ardan swallowed, shifted slightly in his chair, and returned to the last entry in his notepad.

“Then I decided to abstract from the unknown parameters of the equation.” Due to his nervousness, Ardi had started using scientific terminology again. “If we factor everything else out, then the combined parameters yield the following: the Puppeteers planned the handoff well in advance. Which means that the handoff is very important. Moreover—it is so singular in nature that they cannot risk attempting it on any ordinary days. That is, even smuggling channels—not only between the criminals, but even between organizations analogous to the Daggers—are unavailable to them. And there’s one final detail—the object that’s supposed to be handed off must be entirely inconspicuous. The sort of thing that’s easy for a diplomatic mission to carry around without arousing any suspicion. And, above all else, it’s capable of passing all the inspections, both physical and Star Magic-based. Thus, if we account for the areas of interest already known to us due to the experiments of the scientists who were working for the Puppeteers, one can conclude that they were supposed to receive...” Ardan exhaled and, as though leaping into an abyss, blurted out, “Papers.”

“Papers,” the Colonel echoed.

“Yes,” Ardan confirmed. “Anything with a positive Paarlax Field charge—that is, anything related to Star Magic—would not have passed through the shields unnoticed. Any bulky cargo would have raised concerns and possibly risked discovery. And if the Puppeteers had wanted to take risks, then...”

“They would have used ordinary smuggling routes,” the Colonel finished for him. “Which you have already said, Corporal. But what about the Aean’Hane artifacts?”

“The possibility exists,” Ardan agreed. “But again, in such a case, it would have to be no ordinary artifact. And an artifact of the Aean’Hane art that powerful would have caused enough perturbations in the Paarlax Field for the stationary shields’ functions to detect it. So, all that remains is an object that’s limited in its form but unlimited in its significance. The only thing that fits is information. And critically important information for the Puppeteers, at that. Hence it has to be paper as the container for that object, and...”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Ardan broke off and looked at the Colonel, whose gaze was flickering with an annoyance similar to Milar’s.

“This is not a mathematics problem, Corporal,” was all the de facto head of the Second Chancery said, and then he fell silent.

As always, when pondering something, he turned to the window. Usually thrown wide open, it now displayed tightly-sealed frames packed with felt strips and plain newspapers. No better way to combat the coldest season had been invented yet. Well, except for central heating, which, even in the capital, hadn’t yet been installed in every building or connected to a single network—that was something planned for the coming years.

“What, in your estimation, Corporal, is the probability that they were not trying to deceive you?” The Colonel said quietly, tapping his finger on the edge of his desk.

Ardan started and even asked:

“Forgive me, Colonel, what do you mean?”

The de facto head of the Second Chancery turned back and fixed Ard with an intent, piercing gaze. Ardan felt as though he were being seen through, along with all his thoughts, secrets, and those intentions that even he himself was unaware of. And that was despite the fact that this stout, not especially tall man wasn’t even a mage, let alone an Aean’Hane.

“They had no intention of killing you. That is clear to anyone with a working brain. And if there is no desire for elimination, then one can always be used. In this case, as a contagious carrier of disinformation.”

Ardan thought about it. Was it possible that the Dark Aean’Hane had been planning to use him somehow? That there’d been no secret message from the Brotherhood in the equation at all? And that no papers existed containing information potentially related to the Puppeteers’ research into the forced merging of mortal flesh and a Homeless Fae’s spirit?

“Too elaborate, Colonel,” Ardan shook his head. “They were in a hurry. If they hadn’t been in a hurry, they would’ve finished the mutant off outright. And the fact that the Herb of Gentle Dreams and the other materials were placed in the hotel seven years ago... Back then, barely a year had passed since I came down from the Alcade.”

“Fair point,” the Colonel nodded. “Then the papers—which, I agree, does seem like the most viable theory—could have contained either some abstract but extremely valuable intelligence… or information relating to their experiments.”

Ardan didn’t suffer, as Edward had—may the Eternal Angels receive him—from the belief that he was always the smartest person in the room. It didn’t sting in the slightest that the conclusions that had taken him several hours of intense thought to reach had taken the Colonel a mere quarter of an hour.

“And, most importantly, those papers are still in the hotel.”

And now it was Milar and Ard who exchanged glances and stared at the Colonel, dumbfounded. And he, in that same calm, even relaxed manner, lifted his lollipop from its saucer and popped it into his mouth.

“What makes you so certain, Colonel?” Milar asked.

Instead of answering him, the Colonel merely twitched his mustache.

“I could forgive the Corporal for asking such a question, but coming from you, my First-Class Investigator... I’ll chalk it up to the strain of your workload related to the Congress and the resulting detachment from your primary task.”

Milar frowned for several moments, then opened his eyes wide, as though he had spotted some glaring detail. Something like a black stain on a snow-white tablecloth. Mere minutes earlier, he hadn’t noticed it, and now he couldn’t believe that he had missed something so obvious.

“The finger...” He whispered, not taking his eyes off the digit in the glass box, then turned to the Colonel. “The Tazidahian mutant on the roof. What was he doing there?”

“Precisely, Captain. Continue,” the Colonel said invitingly. “There is nothing better for one’s own thinking than hearing someone else’s thoughts spoken aloud.”

Ardan was in complete agreement. The she-wolf herself had taught him that if he did not understand a riddle, he should try saying it out loud several times. Then his ears would start thinking about it as well, not just his mind. And given that hunters often relied on their ears (and nose) to do a great many things, they could easily suggest the right answer.

“At first glance, it might seem like the mutant heard something and went to investigate, but then, why the silence?” Milar tapped a pen—very nearly staining himself with ink—against the index finger of his left hand. “On the contrary. The Tazidahians would’ve wanted the noise. You don’t have to be a genius to guess the headlines: ‘Empire Caught Off Guard!’ ‘Brotherhood Saves Congress!’ And so on. Then why was he up there alone?”

“Continue, Captain.”

“We previously assumed that the Puppeteers were directly allied with the Brotherhood, but!” Milar thrust his pen upward, and the ink did spill this time. It fanned out in a colorful spray across the desk, leaving dark blotches behind—but at that moment, no one cared. “What if they aren’t allied in the partnership sense, but instead have the same sort of parasitic relationship as in the Empire? What if the Puppeteers, in the Brotherhood as well, through blackmail, threats, bribery-”

“Or ideological sympathizers,” the Colonel pointed out. “Of which there are plenty among us, too.”

“Also true,” Milar agreed. “But then it stands to reason that their organization is not directly tied to state institutions. And in that case, there may be...”

All three of them came to the same conclusion. But the honor of voicing it fell to the Colonel.

“Betrayal,” he finished. “Which is precisely what the Dark Aean’Hane said. Only they weren’t betrayed by the entire Brotherhood, but by those individuals with whom the Puppeteers have been collaborating.”

And now the captain’s and the Colonel’s gazes converged on Ard.

“There were no documents lying near that mutant,” Ardan quickly said.

“That can mean only one thing,” the Colonel set his lollipop back on its saucer once more and steepled his fingers. “The papers, whose acquisition the Puppeteers have been planning for nearly a decade—and which surely contain priceless intelligence—are still inside the Crown Hotel. And if we know this, then...”

“The Puppeteers know it too,” Milar added.

“And if that’s the case, then so do their...”

“Allies in the Brotherhood,” it was Ard’s turn.

“And if that’s the case, then...”

Milar covered his eyes with his hand and, after a short exhale, completed the triple exchange:

“There’s also our mysterious mole—if we’re lucky enough that it’s only one person—in the Black House. And now, after the Dark One failed to obtain the information, a race to find the papers will begin. We may have a unique opportunity not only to intercept the intelligence, but to flush out the mole at the same time, and also prick the Tazidahians in the bargain as well.”

For the first time that Ardi could recall, the Colonel gave them a respectful nod. Even when they’d been given the paperwork to sign for their award nominations, the de facto head of the Second Chancery had treated the procedure as utterly routine. But now… he actually nodded.

“I must confess, Captain, in this context, foreign policy, including the Brotherhood, doesn’t concern me much,” the Colonel reached toward his mouth to extract a cigar, but... no cigar was to be found. Ardan understood him all too well. He himself had still not adjusted to the absence of his hat. “But the disruption of such a long-running operation, the interception of intelligence, and—even more of a priority—resolving our leak problem… that is what’s truly valuable.”

The Colonel looked at Ardan again.

“You know, Corporal, your ability to take reckless actions that subsequently yield rather tangible results never ceases to amaze me.” The Colonel picked up his lollipop, gripping the stick the same way he used to grip a cigar. He barely stopped himself from trying to tap it against the ashtray. Habits were a dreadful thing. “All that remains is to determine exactly how we can join this game of hide-and-seek without anyone noticing. We need someone who could justifiably be seen in the hotel without tipping our adversaries off. It is now quite clear why the Corporal wasn’t killed but merely had his memories erased. The corpse of a Second Chancery Investigator would have truly ruined their plans.”

Ardan agreed. He himself hadn’t understood why they had not killed him right there. And what the Dark One had said about Tess had turned out to be nothing more than a bluff. However, this in no way diminished the ring on Ardi’s right ring finger. He would’ve paid that price a thousand times over.

But, on the other hand, this bluff opened up yet another branch of possibilities...

“Colonel.”

“Yes, Corporal?”

Ardi deliberated for some time before posing the devastating question, then once again leaped straight into the gaping abyss:

“Is the Dark Lord definitely dead?”

Silence settled over the office once more.

“What makes you doubt that fact, Corporal?” The Colonel answered with a question of his own.

“What the Dark Aean’Hane said,” Ard admitted. “Not only did he use his bluff to try to cause me pain, but he also swore by the Eternal Angels. Perhaps, of course, as you yourself have already said, it was merely disinformation. A deliberately planted slip… But if everything else tonight wasn’t a lie, then this, too, may be the truth.”

The Colonel was silent for a time, then answered:

“On your way out, pick up a Top Secret clearance form,” he ordered, causing Milar to groan almost inaudibly. “The Dark Lord is dead, Ard. And we have irrefutable evidence in the form of his body, which was disassembled into its component parts. For centuries, the Black House’s experts have done everything imaginable with that man’s remains in an attempt to understand how such a great talent for the art of the Aean’Hane came to reside in the body of a simple mortal. So, there can be no doubt regarding his encounter with the aforementioned Eternal Angels. But I can see where you’re headed. Even if the Dark Aean’Hane you encountered is indeed a human and not a Firstborn, any connection to your great-grandfather’s students is impossible. The Puppeteers have existed for too long. And each of the twelve—at least the ones not cooperating with the Imperial Crown—has surfaced in one way or another over the past two centuries, and upon each surfacing, has done everything possible to ensure that no one takes an interest in them.”

Ardan sighed and nodded. The simplest theory had been proven incorrect, which somewhat contradicted statistics but still did not lie beyond the bounds of a near-zero probability event, and... Yes, the Colonel and Milar were right—this was not a mathematics problem.

“But your theory is curious, Corporal,” the Colonel continued. “Enlighten us—in your estimation, how probable is the emergence of a Dark Aean’Hane?”

Ardan didn’t answer immediately. He needed several minutes to bring together all the scattered thoughts that had been tormenting him for the past few hours.

“The Dark Names don’t come from the outside, from the surrounding world, but from the heart of the Aean’Hane themselves,” Ardi involuntarily placed his hand on his chest. “A human can indeed become a Dark Aean’Hane far more easily and quickly. Simply because such Names are easier to Hear. But... their power would not be great.”

“Why is that, Magister?” Milar asked.

Ardan shrugged.

“The power of Names is not easy to classify. Even so, it can be said that it usually depends on age. Or seniority, if you will. For example, the Name of a tributary of the Niewa will invariably prove weaker than the Name of the Niewa itself, and so on.” Ardan was trying to translate into human language everything he had heard from the she-wolf and read in her scrolls. “And the Dark Names do not grow older outside their bearer. So, a mortal human simply would not have time to nurture them sufficiently and attain some truly extraordinary power. In other words—the older a Dark Aean’Hane, the more powerful they are. Which explains why the first of the Dark Ones were elves that fell to the Darkness during the Era of the Great Song of Blood. That was when the Firstborn races, nearly twelve thousand years ago, fought for the right to crown their representative the King of Ectassus, and-”

“We understand, Corporal,” the Colonel raised his hand. “You may spare us the rest of your history lecture. Let us return to a more pressing topic. It’s unlikely that the search for the documents will begin before tomorrow. Captain.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Milar folded his hands on the table and directed his gaze toward the void. “Every side will want to create a plan of action. Such a task is not an easy one. The hotel is not small, and a packet of documents can be hidden in a dozen, if not a hundred, locations. So, first and foremost, they’ll want to reconstruct the timeline of events or try to identify the traitor.”

“And we have an advantage on that front,” the Colonel nodded. “Though we don’t know this mutant’s motive, nor whom exactly he intended to pass the stolen information to, we do know precisely where he last appeared.”

“On the roof,” Milar added.

“And so, Ard, you will have to spend another night guarding the hotel,” the Colonel ordered calmly. “Especially since the cold doesn’t particularly trouble you, and for your unauthorized abandonment of your post, you really ought to be sent to Lieutenant Kornosskiy anyway. We’ll simply combine the useful with the very useful. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir, Colonel.”

“Well, at least you’ve learned how to answer properly...” The Emperor’s left hand pointed his lollipop at him once more. How unsettling that gesture was. With a cigar, everything had looked somewhat more laconic. “Your task tomorrow night will be to covertly infiltrate the roof and conduct a search. If you find the papers, you can count on another decoration, and not just a week, but a full month of leave to celebrate your wedding.”

“And if not?”

“And if not, Corporal, then, taking advantage of the fact that you will be constantly near His Excellency the Prime Minister,” the Colonel’s gaze filled with steel and gleamed no less fiercely than a saber, “every time you find yourself at the hotel for receptions, dinners, or any other such occasion, you will dig through the concrete and brick with that eternally-curious nose of yours, searching for the papers. Captain Pnev and his subordinates will be doing the same… Shockingly enough, they will soon be transferred to the security detail at the Crown Hotel.”

“Yes, sir, Colonel,” Milar confirmed the order without any enthusiasm and with a certain degree of resignation.

Apparently, the posts that the trio currently occupied were even better! Was such a thing even possible? Hotel duty seemed like the calmest assignment on the entire list.

“Corporal, you have received your instructions and are dismissed,” the Colonel stated. “Downstairs, a service automobile and driver are already waiting for you. They will return you to His Excellency’s residence. And if His Excellency—who occasionally forgets that he is no longer the head of the Daggers division—should happen to ask you about our meeting, remember that the information discussed in this office must not go beyond the three of us. Corporal.”

“Colonel,” Ardi bid him farewell in the customary Cloak manner and exited through the double doors, very nearly colliding with a middle-aged woman.

“I beg your pardon,” they both apologized in unison. Ardan caught a glimpse of the words written in the documents the secretary was carrying:

“Summary of the damages caused by the snowstorm that was likely of magical origin.”

Ardan sped up.

* * *

“I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re still in one piece and not rattling on a train toward the western border, Corporal,” Captain Ponskih said through gritted teeth, “but know that the Colonel’s favor vanishes as quickly as it appears. So, enjoy your luck, but know this—my opinion of you is plummeting ever faster.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now go inside. The General is expecting you.”

Ponskih stepped aside, allowing Ardi to enter the study of Prime Minister Oleg Zakrovsky. The General was not at his desk, but in his armchair. With his leg on a footrest, he was smoking his pipe and reading some historical work. Ardan gathered as much from the distinctive inscription on its cover.

“General,” Ardan greeted him.

“Ah, Mr. Egobar,” the Prime Minister welcomed him in a warm, cordial tone. It would’ve been reassuring if Ardan hadn’t already seen how, in precisely that same tone, the Duke-General had conversed with a man he had personally executed minutes later. “I hear you abandoned your post. I must say that it was for a commendable reason. Protecting one’s family. One’s beloved. One’s fiancée. It’s a very worthy, almost chivalric impulse.”

Ardan, sticking to his favorite tactic, said nothing. No question had been posed, so opening one’s mouth unnecessarily in the presence of a man who regularly decided the fates of hundreds of millions of Imperial citizens was not worth the trouble.

“And here is what interests me, Mr. Egobar,” the Duke-General drew on his pipe without looking up from his book, without so much as glancing at Ard himself. “If given the chance to go back in time, would you do it again?”

Ardan understood where this was headed. And so he answered truthfully:

“Yes.”

“Even if, Mr. Egobar, you knew that, for instance, your impulse to resolve personal matters would have harmed the Empire?”

“Yes.”

“And perhaps civilians would have died. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Or even thousands.”

Ardan had essentially been asked the same question three times. And, though he might not be a true subject of the Queens, the she-wolf and his forest friends, together with his Teacher, had raised him well. He answered honestly, as befitting the laws of the City on the Hill:

“Yes, General. Without hesitation.”

Only then did the Prime Minister lift his gaze from his book and look at Ardan over its pages.

“To protect four hundred million people, Ard, you need several tens of thousands who, right here... feel nothing.”

“A pity,” was all the Prime Minister said. “You are dismissed, Corporal.”

For the first time, the Prime Minister had addressed him by his rank. And so, taking the hint, Ardan bowed and said:

“Your Excellency.”

The General merely waved his pipe in an idle gesture. Ardan turned and headed for the exit. At the door, as his hand touched the handle, the still-warm voice reached him. It was just as warm as a blanket inside which a snake is hiding.

“You truly are like your father.”

Ardan almost said, “thank you,” but that might’ve been seen as insolence, so the young man simply exited the study and, passing Captain Ponskih, headed for his temporary bed.

Ardi was now certain that the offer Captain Aloaeiol and Milar had warned him about would never come; no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t managed to avoid making an enemy out of the Prime Minister. And if His Excellency had asked whether Ard would have destroyed the Metropolis, the Empire, the entire western continent—the whole world, even—to save Tess, Ardan would not have hesitated then, either.

Not even for a second.

The answer would always be the same:

“Yes.”