Starfall (No OP/No Harem/ No MS/ Isekai)

Camrad_RIP · Jun 10, 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 Copeira 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 Taer out of this branch of hell.

Later, in the flyer, Countess Darlurl showed the Privy ring to 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. 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 10, 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 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 11, 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."

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 12, 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:

"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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 13, 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 14, 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 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 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 Taer honestly: exchanged with someone a couple of insignificant phrases, accepted five congratulations for recovery, and thanked them for their 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 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 14, 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 15, 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 the Countess of 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, 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.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 16, 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 Pell? 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 Rulning 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, Kilreths, 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 info-stick 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 confident.

* * *

Camrad_RIP · Jun 17, 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 Capeira, "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.

* * *

Starfall (No OP/No Harem/ No MS/ Isekai)

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Camrad_RIP

Camrad_RIP

Camrad_RIP

Camrad_RIP

Camrad_RIP

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