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

Chapter 11
Chapter 11

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The bright red flyer pierced the white cloud and continued to gain altitude. There was no "lack of thrust" - the machine went steeply upward, gaining speed like a rocket. The white sea of clouds remained far below, the horizon gradually curved, gaining roundness. The speed of the flier was indicated by the figures on the dashboard and the white flashes of compaction in front of the pointy nose of the vehicle. There was nothing else but the gentle breeze in the hair and the steady chanting of the engine behind. In front and around, as far as the eye could see, was only the sky, which was growing darker and darker, and for a moment there seemed to be an uneven flicker of stars.

"I think it's too early for us to go into space," Kayrin murmured.

Her breath tickled Alex's ear pleasantly, and her tight breasts rested against his shoulder. The Baroness sat half-embracing him, her hands resting on his arms. The whole thing was called "learning to drive a flyer" by Baroness Rionale.

Alex realized he was being shamelessly seduced, but first, he liked it, and second, anything flying had been a weakness of his since childhood.

"As you say!" he smiled back.

The grip is on himself! And the sides of the flyer swelled up with milky white blasts of compressed air, turning into two huge snow-white wings. The sky and the ground reversed, and the machine looped downward. The overload gauge poured yellow. Twenty-two units! Alex couldn't believe his eyes. He was sitting in the sports convertible on the sofa that was here instead of the seats, unbuckled - because there was nothing to buckle up with - and he felt nothing at all! Although, in theory, he should have been pressed into the floor with two tonnes of force. Knowing about the inertial compensator from the Baroness' words and feeling it working for myself were "two big differences".

Still, I bloody like it here! Alex thought as he put the vehicle into a horizontal flight. The flyer flew in a canyon of clouds. The surrounding beauty was breathtaking, a light breeze was blowing in his face, and an incredibly beautiful girl was smiling charmingly beside him, the collar of her shirt generously unbuttoned to reveal a stunning view.

In the back of my mind, however, the unpleasant thought lurked that all this beauty was accompanied by purposeful guys who wanted his dead body, and the girl clearly had some selfish motives. But this thought did not hinder the enjoyment of the flight.

There was a melodious chime and a yellow square with a lightning bolt in the center flashed on the central panel.

"Less than a third of the energy left," Kayrin explained the signal. "Time to go back, and I'd better slow down, or we'll miss it," she stopped talking and then spoke again, probably not to Alex anymore, but in a cooler, more commanding tone. "Navigation lay in a course for the departure point!"

Obediently, the flyer's electronic brains plotted the direction of the castle on the central screen, and in a few minutes, the machine emerged from the clouds in direct line of sight of it.

"Look," Kayrin pointed to the right.

On a parallel course, but much lower, another flyer flew, looking like a silver droplet from above.

So observant, Alex marveled as he guided his vehicle downwards.

"It must be Taer," the Baroness concluded.

There was now a two-hundred-meter difference in altitude between the machines, and the flyer going below was clearly visible - the model, indeed, resembled the one the "security specialist" was flying.

"Let's parrot her!" Kayrin's tone was quite playful. She gave a serious expression and pointed to the silver flyer. "Come on, fighters! To Fyron!"

"Yes!" Alex decided to play along.

The machine lay on its left side and went into a combat approach like a World War II fighter, by all the rules, from the side of the sun. For a moment, the flyer flew upside down, and Alex was once again surprised that it wasn't falling out. The target was fast approaching, increasing in size - a scarlet griffin was already visible on board - when suddenly, having must have spotted the 'attackers'. The silver one jerked to the left and then - collapsed down, turning around near the ground, and reversing, under the belly of the attacker.

Alex didn't risk repeating such a maneuver - he simply took advantage of the incredible maneuverability of his vehicle, turning in an almost zero-radius turn, and dashed after in pursuit. The speed advantage was clearly on his side, but the 'victim' suddenly took a sharp right, swerving behind the castle and pressing up against its wall. He threw his vehicle following. The castle wall was rapidly approaching, and it was clear that the turning radius was too small and was about to hit the wall. A left turn, away from the wall, and the vehicle was dangerously close to the ground. A sharp jerk. Handles in to gain altitude. The flyer kicked up and down, whirling like a skittish horse, hurtling across the ground. The world spun at an unbelievable speed.

And suddenly, everything stopped. The vehicle froze, staring nose up into the sky, stopping a few meters from the ground. Alex burst out laughing nervously, with hysterical notes - he hadn't had time to be frightened in flight, but now he was scared, even though it was already over. The Baroness was genuinely amused; she did not seem the least bit frightened by what had happened.

After all, with that kind of recklessness, the first day's driving could get you killed, Alex decided. Though the Baroness had assured him that the Osaro could crash into a rock at full speed without any harm - the fields and inertia compensators would hold up.

She was persuasive, but there was no sense in checking it out for himself. He was still in shock from the fact that he was driving the flyer himself and at such speed.

It all started when Alex, talking to the Baroness, dropped the fact that he didn't know how to fly a flyer because he'd "forgotten everythingЭ. Kayrin immediately offered to teach him, and right away. She was jolly, easy-going, and with a great sense of humor, so the three hours that Alex "entertained" Baroness Rionale flew by without a trace. She was a rare pleasure to spend time with. The joy was marred only by the fact that this NLP enthusiast wanted something out of him, and her interest was clearly not dictated by the depth of his personality.

Anyway, the baroness went to change because her dark blue short sundress with an inflated waist was, in her own words, "not suitable for driving a flyer". Five minutes later, Kayrin was in front of an admiring audience in a short-sleeved white shirt with a high stand-up collar. The high collar, however, was unbuttoned by more than three buttons revealing a gorgeous chest. The shirt was accompanied by light blue trousers and moccasins. After all the compliments they were due, they went to the garage to choose the most suitable apparatus for the trainee.

In the huge room filled with a cloud of machinery, the Baroness gave him a full-scale tour, telling him about the various models and expertly explaining their advantages and disadvantages - it seemed that sports flyers were her little weakness.

"You know, this doesn't seem right to me!" Kayrin ran her hand lovingly over the shiny side of another sports engineering marvel. "A man who hardly ever drives has such a huge collection of sports flyers. They're supposed to fly, they're built for speed, and you keep them locked up!"

"I admit my fault," Alex smiled guiltily. "I'm ready to make amends immediately and start flying. As soon as you choose what we're going to fly."

Kayrin stopped in front of a large convertible with a sharp, predatory nose painted bright red.

"Great shadows, Faison-Osaro!" she almost groaned. "Where'd you get that thing? You're not..." she paused, remembering something. "What am I talking about, though? It would be strange if it wasn't here."

The Baroness slammed her palm on the bonnet:

"We're flying it!"

"Is this the suitable vehicle for the first time?" Alex hesitated.

"More than that! Powerful fields, an autopilot that makes the machine fly better than a pilot, excellent emergency automatics..." Kayrin went on to detail the charms of the machine.

As it turned out, it was the fastest production convertible: a thrust generator of monstrous power, easily taking five times the sound, with an inertial compensator, with a limit of eight hundred units, and an arbitrary overload vector that would do honor to any fighter, if it wasn't too expensive to put on fighters.

"But most importantly," the Baroness said with a gasp. "Dynamic control plane generation system"

She pointed her hand to a spherical bulge at the side:

Normally flyers, even sports flyers, do not use aerodynamic control systems except for stabilization. But the Osaro's special field generators create differently shaped wings and stabilizers, depending on the flight profile and control torque required. With an experienced pilot, this machine literally dances.

Oh! It's like she's reading! Pretty girl - and a sports car fan, who'd have thought? Pretty girls rarely have hobbies at all - maybe aristocratic origins have an effect?

Kayrin smiled slyly and swung herself over the side, plopping down on the sofa:

"Get in," she slammed her palm down beside her. "I'll teach you how to fly."

Alex opened the door and sat down next to it - there were no armchairs, just a single rather wide sofa with a low back covered in something that looked like velvet. The interior was trimmed in leather and chrome metal.

Aristocrats degrade with taste, he smiled and ran his finger over the inlay on the light-polished wood dashboard.

While the Baroness was taking the flyer out of the garage, she had time to tell him what Osaro had had to pay for all his wonders. First, the price of a million and a half denarii, and second, the almost hand-assembly and the incredibly complex calibration of the equipment, which made them scarce and left the Osaro, as for most of Fizon's products, in a queue. And quite an impressive one at that. They consumed a great deal of energy, making the normal energy cells empty almost immediately. A special power unit with an enormous capacity had been developed for the Osaro. They would only fly for an hour and a half, though, and then they would have to recharge from the generators. There was no quick cell change system like on most fliers.

All in all, a very smart and exclusive machine. I wonder. Why is it here if Lord Cassard wasn't a fan of piloting himself?

The flyer jumped out of the garage, the generators hummed melodiously, and the vehicle went up, gaining altitude at a rapid pace.

As the nose stared up into the sky, Alex frantically searched for something to cling to but was surprised to realize that he was in no hurry to fall out. As it turned out, the apparatus, for the comfort of the noble public, was equipped with a small gravity-generator, which created its own field of gravity, always directed at the floor of the machine, so that there was no need to worry about the contents of the stomachs and the calmness of the vestibular apparatus.

When the vehicle came to a halt, hovering silently several kilometers high, Kayrin turned to him and smiled dazzlingly:

"We'll practice here - it's much safer at altitude, and there's no risk of hitting something hard. Come on, get behind the wheel, and I'll teach you."

The baroness moved to make room for Alex at the controls and began to explain what they were for. The controls were strikingly similar to an airplane, except that the pedals were used to control the thrust of the generators when flying "helicopter style," and the left and right turn of the nose was set by turning the control handle around its axis.

So he started to learn. At first, it wasn't so good: the flyer yawed sharply, and Alex kept trying to turn into a plane-like turn and pedal the nose, causing the flyer to jerk sharply up or down. The Baroness, hugging Alex and placing her hands on his, helped steer the machine by parrying the excessively abrupt and wrong maneuvers. Gradually the thousands of hours in her favorite flight simulators took their toll, and Alex became "quite proficient at flying the flyer for the first time," in Kayrin's words... but she was in no hurry to stop hugging him as she "helped steer," though.

Eventually, lulled by the compliments, he relaxed and almost flew into the ground, mismanaging his control in pursuit of Taer.

Yeah, it's not the same thing to fly behind a computer screen as it is to fly in person, and you're just showing off, you bloody aviator!

After surrendering to the ace fighter, Alex chatted briefly with Taer. He found out that the security plan had been successfully implemented, and, somewhat relieved by this news, he continue to entertain his dear guest. He did so until almost late at night. The Baroness taught him how to play the local mix of cards and chess - to Alex's surprise, he did well and even won four times, which made him regret his decision to play for "fun" rather than "undress" as Kayrin had suggested.

However, she might have given in on purpose.

Then they went fencing, which ended in his complete defeat, though now the Baroness was definitely going easy. Alex declined the horseback ride for fear of exposing himself completely. So they went for a walk through the evening gardens. He should say night gardens because the sun had long since set, and he felt it was already about midnight.

The gardens surrounding the castle were illuminated by lights concealed in the dense grass at the roots of the trees. The trees and trunks glowed with a mysterious bluish light that gently enveloped everything around them.

The atmosphere is the most romantic.

They sat on the grass beside a small river, the starry sky above shining with an unearthly beauty, illuminated by the reddish light of a crimson nebula, and somewhere in the distance, some nocturnal creatures were trilling.

"I wonder what it's singing?" Alex asked, sitting down on the grass beside the baroness.

"They are finches, little fluffy animals with long tails. They nest in the trees and sing beautifully in the spring. It's just a little early for them," Kayrin moved closer and snuggled against him. "It's getting chilly."

At night her eyes, already black, seemed like bottomless lakes filled with gleaming darkness. The reddish light of the mist played on her full, slightly open lips.

If you don't hug and kiss her now, you'll be a complete idiot! And if you kiss her, you'll be a complete fool.

In Alex, desire fought against freshly acquired paranoia: ///Two assassination attempts in four days - and the Baroness is up to something.

"Yes, indeed, it's chilly. Let's go to the castle," his paranoia won out, and he decided not to test his resilience to temptation any further.

Alex stood up and offered his hand to Kayrin, and she rose easily and followed him to the castle, showing no sign of disappointment. The lights were shining outside the castle, and there was a lot of activity - they must have brought in the equipment Taër had talked about.

What on earth does she want from me? Alex wondered after walking the baroness to her bedroom door. Afterward, Kayrin asked for help in choosing an outfit for tomorrow's festivities, which she said required a 'man's eye'. Guessing that the fitting would end, or even begin, with the spectacle of a woman's nudity, Alex refused, citing the late hour, a desire for sleep, and a complete ignorance of women's fashion.

Because a naked Baroness Rionale is not something I can resist.

Kayrin didn't push or talk her way out of it. She smiled sweetly and said goodnight as if to say in passing that she herself would not be able to sleep for a long time.

For once, I get hit on by a stunningly beautiful girl with some ambiguous offers and - sure enough - some kind of set-up!

Alex wandered towards his office, lamenting the unfairness of what was happening. Lecturing on history and geopolitics instead of going to the Baroness was perverse, but it was, in his opinion, the only reasonable option.

Alex, lounging in his chair, stared at the screen floating in front of him. The notes that Taer had given him in the morning turned out to be video recordings of lectures with pop-up text comments, which must have been made by the owner of the notes.

"So! As you and I found out in last week's lecture, the Tail sector became a unified cultural and political space three thousand years ago when Lord Heroti Tail, together with the great houses, defeated the houses of outcasts at the Battle of Toliara, uniting all thirteen kingdoms, something we all celebrate every year during the Unification Festival."

A thin old man with a small beard, giving a lecture, turned to a huge hologram depicting star systems connected by white lines. Borders flashed red around them. They began to transform as they merged, some of the star systems, marked by blue circles, turned grey and became translucent. A text commentary ran across the screen, +++Thirteen conquered kingdoms under the rule of Emperor Teyla the First 'Unifier' transformed into ten Great Houses." The old man coughed into his fist, urging the students to be quiet, and continued:

"Thus ended the era of the battling kingdoms and began the era of Empire Tail," the lecturer paused, seeking out someone in the audience with his eyes. And, pointing his hand beyond the camera's line of sight, he offered:

"Count Vastol, give us your assessment of the reasons for the collapse of the Tail Empire."

"Ahem... the Empress Dialla provoked a conflict with the Great Houses with her decree on 'Reform of Administrative Boundaries', which resulted in a revolt of the Guard," the Count had a brittle, youthful voice and spoke, stammering heavily, probably from excitement.

The old man pursed his lips with a sour expression:

"Superficial, young man, superficial. Does anyone have anything to add?"

The lecturer roared his eyes around the audience again. His gaze fixed squarely on the lens. And Alex heard a low whisper, in which he recognized Taer's voice:

"...Not me, not me..."

"Respected Diltar, anything to add?"

"The recognition of the Tallana Separatists and their incorporation into the Federation negated the competence of the central authority, the Tail Empire could no longer secure the political interests of the Great Houses," Taer muttered.

"Not bad..." the old man nodded approvingly. "But incomplete!"

He put his hands behind his back and turned again to the map:

By admitting Tallana, the Federation had sent a clear message to the Great Houses. Now they could resolve their problems without looking back at the Empress. They could apply for membership and gain the protection of the Federation fleet at any time. This led to a series of intermittent territorial conflicts, in which a House which achieved the desired configuration of borders immediately applied for entry into the Federation on an "as is" basis. Of course, the best results in this situation went to the Houses that acted first.

The lecturer turned to the audience again and pointed his hand at someone:

"Name the parties who benefited most from the collapse of the Tail Empire."

"Peltar, Fyron, and the Separatists who have joined Tallan!" The young man who had jumped up possessed a distinctly nerdy aura.

"That's right! So, as we have found out, there have been many situations in the history of our Sector where a change in the balance of external forces has been the trigger for the resolution of conflicts between the Houses. So we come to the topic of our lecture today..."

A duplicate inscription ran on the screen: +++Rebellion of the Orders as a major factor in creating the current scheme of geopolitical balance between the Great Houses.

"...The Federation, being the guarantor of peace, deprived the Great Houses of the ability to resolve conflicts militarily. And House Peltar's historically well-developed ties with the Orders and the federal center have led to a power imbalance. As a result, the economically and demographically more developed and militarily powerful Houses - Fyron and Melato - were political pariahs. The possibility of political lobbying at the federal center and the use of the power resource of the federal fleet made House Peltar dominant in our sector."

The lecturer stopped and looked at the red-haired, curly-haired girl who was persistently reaching out her hand:

"I know what you want to tell us, Marquess Cheryl: that House Peltar kept the aggressive aspirations of House Fyron in check and was the guarantor of the peace that allowed our Sector to flourish, almost a thousand and a half years without knowing war. Isn't that right?"

The girl lowered her hand and said something inaudibly. The old man frowned and continued:

"As I told you before, we have to try to abstract away from ethical issues - we should only be interested in the balance of power and the factors influencing it. The balance of power tells us that the weak House dictated its will to the strong, relying on external power. And as for the millennium of peace, I think the representatives of House Fyron will disagree with you. But we are not here for polemics - let's get back to the topic of our lecture. The situation with the domination of House Peltar continued right up to the event we all know as the Mutiny of the Orders, which happened twenty-one years ago. The adherent orders of the 'guardians' revolted against the Emperor, demanding that he resign his Imperium. House Peltar sided with the Orders, which was predictable but not reasonable..."

The red-haired Marquise began to reach out again, but the lecturer did not notice her:

"The Emperor did not even have to enter the Sector - at his command, the combined fleets of House Fyron and House Ispar preemptively destroyed the fleet of House Peltar at the bases during the battle of Pella."

An inscription appeared at the bottom of the screen, announcing that the combined fleet was commanded by Lord Galen Cassard, who had also planned the attack.

It turns out Lord Cassard's father was not in the lowest ranks in the Navy.

"The attack on Pella was carried out without a declaration of war during negotiations!" shouted the girl from her seat, tired of dragging her arm.

"Quite right, Marquess Cheryl! With that, the first staggering blow put an end to organized resistance in space. And after the planetary shields fell, House Peltar was no longer a tangible force in the Taile sector. Seven systems were occupied and handed over by House Fyron to its ally, House Ispar, and had it not been for the mercy of the Emperor, House Peltar might have ceased to exist. Thereafter all the Great Houses swore a personal oath to the Emperor, becoming his mainstay against the Orders and the remnants of the Guilds armies. As you know, the Emperor's gratitude was great. This explains the position held by the Great Houses and the nobility of our sector in general. As well as the freedom in matters of self-government. And here we must first consider the influence on these processes of the Empire's officer corps, staffed at the time of the mutiny and immediately afterward, predominantly by nobles from the Great Houses of our sec..."

Alex stopped the record and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was sleepy, and the thought of Baroness Rionale waiting for him in his bedroom prevented him from concentrating on his notes. He was about to go back to watching the lecture when there was a shy knock on the office door.

Something new - usually everyone just walks in. I wonder, who needs me? Deciding that the pause was dragging on and that the killers were unlikely to knock, he turned off the screen and gave his face a benevolently neutral expression:

"Come in!"

Alex secretly hoped it was Kayrin, but the reality was slow to meet expectations. The door opened and Taer entered the office with a drooping head.

"Has something happened?" The depressed state of the "specialist" did not escape him.

"Yes, Your Lordship. Here..." she said in a trembling voice, holding out a plump leather folder to him.

Alex took the folder in his hands - there was clearly something weighty inside. He wrestled with the clasps, but without much success. Taer stepped closer and helped her with the locks, the file opened and stacks of cards spilled out onto the table.

"What is it?" the lord inquired, looking curiously at the gold embossing on the dark and smooth surface of the cards.

"A bribe," Taer sighed, "which I took..." she added quietly, looking down at the floor. Her face went from red to pale.

Alex opened one packet, tearing off the blue ribbons with which it was bound, and began to study the card with interest. It was thin and supple, almost square with rounded edges as wide as the palm of his hand. "Five thousand denarii," he read the inscription along the edge.

"Why don't you tell me more?" Alex put the card aside and looked up at Taer, who was clearly not at ease.

"Yes, Your Lordship," the "specialist" almost whispered and began to tell the story of her "fall".

As she told him, Alex became more and more amused.

Poor naive child, she signs a contract for one hundred and thirty-five million danarii and doesn't notice that she is being heavily offered a payback, although it's clear that such contracts are not made that easily. I wonder how much the payback is?

He interrupted Taer's story and inquired:

"They had to give a base price. How much?"

"Ninety-seven million danarii, it seems, Your Lordship."

And the contract was for one hundred and thirty-five. So nice! Thirty-eight million on top - more than a third extra! He was curious as to how much that was in dollars; according to his initial estimate, the dinarii was about eight bucks. So, roughly speaking, they pay back about three hundred million on a billion-dollar contract.

While Alex pondered, calculating the amount of payback in dollars, Taer finished her story and froze, waiting for the "verdict". He sighed and carefully, concealing a smile, asked:

"And how much is there?"

"Five million danarii, Your Lordship," the "specialist" was pitiful to look at.

"Taer, Taer... you know, I didn't expect this from you," he added sadness and reproach to his voice. Alex was about to hold a proper pause, but seeing the quivering lips and red eyes that looked like they weren't crying just because of the Guardsman's pride, he took pity. "You've been robbed, Guardsman!" he laughed.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" whispered Taer. She was a little taken aback by the turn of events.

"That's what I've meant. They've added thirty-eight million on top, and you've only got five. A real robbery! You were supposed to get one-third to one-half of the markup, that's ten or fifteen million danarii. They must have seen your inexperience and decided to warm their hands a little."

/Although it's strange to cheat on a partner on a billion-worth contract - the management should eat everybody alive for that.

"But I didn't ask for a kickback at all!" Taer protested.

"You agreed to it. First, they asked you about the markup, then they asked you about the payment scheme and your interests - you said 'the usual'. So you got the 'business as usual'," Alex nodded at the money scattered across the table.

"What am I supposed to do now, My Lord?" asked the slightly relieved girl.

"My Lord" looked intently at Taer. The situation frankly amused him. The strange dark squares with gold letters did not feel like money. Especially not his money. And Taer's naivety in the field of applied economics might have made him laugh if the girl had not reacted so acutely to the bribe she had received.

On the other hand, if you had been bribed with thirty million dollars - I'd have looked at you - your hands would have been trembling, too. And there she is, giving herself up! She seems to have a morbid sense of pride and a hypertrophied sense of honor. Though maybe that's the norm for a Guardsman. And in fact, such honesty should be encouraged in every way possible! He was about to rake the money back into the folder and give it to Taer when a thought suddenly occurred to him. I've got some unaccounted-for money in my hands that could come in handy, especially since someone really wants to kill me. For instance, they might need to buy some services secretly. And you shouldn't deprive a 'specialist' of financial motivation either.

He counted the cards in the bundle - there were exactly a hundred of them - and scooped the money back into the folder, leaving one bundle on the table.

"What to do? First, you should switch on the suppressor, just in case..."

"I turned it on before I came in, Your Lordship," the girl pulled the pendant from her shirt - it hummed softly, the light in the center glowing softly yellow.

"... Second, you should sit down, relax, and remember that we switched to 'you' a long time ago," Alex continued, waiting for her to settle into her chair. "Third, you should make an appointment for this Atuyu Rakem and ask when you'll get the rest of it."

"What?" Taer wondered genuinely, "I - a Guardsman - have to demand a bribe?! I cannot! It's dishonorable!"

"Take your time," Alex interrupted her. "For a start, it's not a bribe - think of it as a special operation - you're not taking it for yourself. We might need some clean, unaccounted-for money, especially since someone's trying to kill me."

Taer thought about it in a way she hadn't thought about.

"Okay, your high... Alex, I'll do as you say," she looked him in the eye and asked. "You don't think it's my fault?"

"No, of course - I think you're a man of incredible self-control and very honest. I bet those mugs in the Office steal a lot more than that, and no one who comes forward to confess! All in all, I think you acted like a true Guardsman, and you should be proud of what you did because it's not for everyone to risk their careers in the name of honor."

God, what am I saying? Good thing she's in shock and not thinking straight. Alex, seeing Taer's condition, thought a few compliments might do her good, but he seemed to be going a bit overboard.

"Thank you," Taer smiled appreciatively. "I was afraid you wouldn't understand," she brushed a small tear from her eyelash and stood up, heading for the exit. "Shall I go?"

"Wait. Generally speaking, people who help carry out such operations are paid a percentage to five percent of the amount. But taking into account your moral expenses and your demonstrated integrity, I think ten percent is the right figure for this operation," he stood up and handed the wad to Taer.

"I can't! It's not right..." she protested, but there was no firmness in her voice.

"Take it! It's a well-earned reward for showing honor and restraint!"

Taer took the packet, muttered some words of thanks, and headed for the exit, dazed by the events that had occurred. At the door, the voice of the Lord caught up with her:

"By the way, do you know if there's a safe in here?" It occurred to Alex that keeping five million in a folder was not a good idea.

It turned out that there was a safe, and more than one, but no one knew the code to the main safe except Lord Cassard, and now no one at all. So Alex limited himself to a key-locked mini-safe in a desk drawer.

After sending Taer to sleep, Alex "read" the notes for a few more hours and went to his bedroom. Before going to bed, he opened the wardrobe, find something he thought was a scarf, and put it next to the bed.

Well, let's see what you have to offer me, gentlemen well-wishers.

The scarf was a bright scarlet color.

* * *​
 
Chapter 12
Chapter 12

* * *​

A huge white platform, richly decorated with scarlet escapes of embossed designs on the sides, floated above the rippling sea of people like a ship. Large flags with a red griffin at their center hovered over the platform, further enhancing the resemblance to the ship by resembling snow-white sails. All around, except for the narrow strip over which the platforms flew, the crowd raged. The people filled the entire avenue and the surrounding streets, as well as the accessible balconies and rooftops, shouting, waving flags, and throwing ribbons of color toward the platforms, which fell in a bright arc to the pavement. The snowfall was slowing down as it overcame the protective field covering the platforms, making clouds float in the air.

The platform - a hundred meters long and shaped like a huge boat with low sides - could comfortably accommodate five hundred people if not a thousand. Alex stood alone in the middle of the gigantic structure, and he was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Well, OK, not alone, but with Taer, but that doesn't make it any easier!

The "specialist" stood to the right like a statue - not moving or blinking. And Alex could more than understand it - while the other platforms held several hundred nobles each, cheerfully waving back at the crowds and scattering small orbs from the platforms in the air in a shower of colorful sparks, the lone Lord Cassard and his guardsman got a disproportionate amount of attention, making him feel like a rare animal in a zoo on Open Door Day.

Before the festivities began, Taer had explained this strange isolation by the simple fact that the platforms represented domains, and the nobles on them were arranged by clan. And at the moment, Lord Allesandro Cassard is the only representative of both the family and the domain of Cassard.

Yep... Cassard is a rare, endangered species of the lord. No hand-feeding! Alex grinned grimly. At this rate, I hope we don't become extinct...

The other platforms were packed with nobles, except for one... There was a tall, lonely girl with short platinum hair and skin the color of bronze. Accompanying her were two enigmatic beasts in ceremonial robes. The two were far away, though, and Alex could not see all the details.

Waves of flashes and flying flags with house emblems constantly swept through the sea of people around them. The shouts of greeting from the crowd were a joyous roar in which no words were intelligible, Lord Cassard waving and smiling in response as the festive ceremonial events were well into their third hour and in full swing. They had already had time to take part in the laying of "wreaths of remembrance", which looked like throwing huge wreaths from the bridge into the water. The floral waterfall, illuminated by the setting sun, was mesmerizing in its beauty, but the sizzling heat spoiled the whole experience.

Then they piled onto the platforms and leisurely headed towards the complex where the rest of the official part... and the unofficial party was to take place. The air conditioning on the platforms was working, and Alex took a little breather. But the platforms were moving slowly - standing, smiling, and waving were tiring, and he also wanted to go to the bathroom. And while the other nobles could take turns resting on the small lower deck, hidden from the eyes of observers for Lord Cassard this option was out of the question.

To hell with these representative functions, this "Unification" celebration, and Anzati Ritero and Baron Kouifi and their idea of increased publicity as a means of winning a case in court

From the look in Taer's eyes, she had about the same opinion of what was going on.

It's idiotic, Alex continued to get angry. A celebration of some freak conquering everyone three thousand years ago. He gave them a lot of... brain fixes - they're still celebrating!

Almost without moving his lips, he asked aloud: "Taer, why is everyone so happy about the fact that they have been conquered by Emperor Tail?"

"He united the Sector, ending the feud between the kingdoms by making it one," she whispered back.

"What good was Fyron in this? An independent kingdom became a noble house within the Empire. What's to be happy about?"

"As part of the Empire, House Fyron increased its territory considerably and the nobility was protected by the Emperor from the arbitrary rule of kings and ruling lords," Taer was clearly quoting from some textbook.

That's even how - that is, the nobility en masse were happy to be conquered. That's nonsense! Although it may not be nonsense if they did not suffer property damage and the "oppressive top brass" were dealt with.

Judging by the speed, the rest of the journey will take about half an hour at the platform.

Yeah, another half an hour and we'll have to polite the "bride". What the hell is this: some want to kill him, some want to marry him and threaten to do so, some want to sue him, some want to rob a stunned man and then offer him friendship... well, and Baroness Rionale, who also wants something.

Alex sighed heavily and remembered his conversation with Countess Durlurl, who had informed him that he now definitely had a bride. And, as they say, nothing seemed to foretell trouble...

The awakening came much earlier than planned and not in the most pleasant way. An eerie rumbling and crackling sound broke into the bedroom, despite the light protective field that covered the windows. As Alex, mentally chastising himself for his excessive curiosity and reminding himself of the fate of one cat, approached the window, he was presented with a picturesque scene.

A silver flyer of an unfamiliar model was hovering beside a huge fallen tree that used to be part of the alley leading to the castle. Some men in white uniforms were standing beside the car, apparently inspecting it. The central part of the tree, which must have had three arms around it, was torn into splinters. The culprit of the collision, however, looked undamaged, as far as Alex could see.

"What's going on in there?" Alex got to the comm and summoned Taer.

While flying the new flyers at a low altitude, one of the pilots lost control. A three-hundred-year-old reswell was damaged. I don't think the tree can be repaired. The machine is intact," the specialist's voice was hoarse and tired.

Bloody flyers. Woke me up, you bastards! Alex just hated being woken up. Especially if he'd been awake for a long time. "Okay, I'll be right down," he added out loud and went to get dressed.

His head was pounding from lack of sleep, so Alex, munching on three capsules of Fenote, perked up, and went to see the hero pilots.

Shit! I wish they'd give me a scooter. Or is that instead of a morning jog for the tonus? He thought wearily outside the porch. The enormous size of the castle was beginning to get a little tense.

He was met by a perfect line of people standing at attention on the castle grounds. Four lads, one of whom stood out for his giant proportions, and a pretty girl, a little shorter than Taer and much frailer. As Alex approached, Taer, standing first in the line, shouted "'At attention!" which caused the rest of the brethren to turn their heads in sync, and mutter something like "Ready to serve Your Lordship!". Alex was surprised at the manner of the "salute" - two fingers to the temple instead of an open palm - but the "security specialist", meanwhile, marched to the "lord" and, stretching out in front of him, reported:

"My lord, the reinforcements for the inspection have been lined up!"

She seems to have misinterpreted my "I'll be down to see you," thinking I was going to give the troops an inspection, thought the "my lord," a little embarrassed by the reception. However, judging by her grey face and red eyes, Taer was now in a rare alternate state of mind, brought on by lack of sleep and nerves - so she could draw more original conclusions.

"At ease, guardsman! Let's look around while you're in line," Alex commanded, adding in a barely audible whisper. "By the way, how do I address you in public?"

"Out of the ranks one at a time!" Taer shouted and then answered in the same whisper. "Guardsman, Or "Sain lieutenant." Or Sword."

"Master Pilot of the Guards, Ittori Lieutenant Pakrat Mithut!" The blond-haired guy, a little shorter than Alex, with green eyes, who stood first, stepped forward.

"Master Pilot of the Guards, Ittori Lieutenant Rokot Vodin!" The co-pilot, a blond brown-haired man with fine features and the appearance of a poet, was even shorter than the first and somewhat more subtle in build than Alex had expected from a pilot. Although with these compensators, maybe they don't care about physical attributes at all, as long as they're able to react.

"Master Pilot of the Guards Ittori Cadet Ogerd Wispart!" If the first two pilots were about Alex's age or a little older, this one was at most twenty. Blond like the first pilot, he was short and gaunt but wiry as hell. He radiated activity and energy.

"Master Operator "Lance" Dudo Guwar!" a man of heroic proportions stepped forward. At first glance, he looked about thirty, and his physique and general appearance were worthy of an action movie hero. He remembered from Taer's lengthy explanations that the lances'' were some sort of hacker. Lance... weird, atypical guy. Alex imagined hackers in a very different way, and the "keyboard and mouse" fighters he'd met in person weren't usually known for the bulk of their muscles. And judging by the calluses on his knuckles, he didn't work out in the gym. He mentally shrugged and turned his attention to the girl.

"Master operator of the field Rima Talariv!" A graceful girl with dark brown hair, a sensuous mouth, brown eyes accentuated by thick eyelashes of mind-blowing length, and charming dimples on her cheeks that appeared while smiling, like now for example. And judging by the way her tunic is tattered - with a great figure! Alex admired the 'master field operator' for a while, but unfortunately, the pause was dragging on, and to keep his attention from escalating beyond decorum, he took a couple of steps back and glanced around the entire formation.

Yep, just like an Olympic reserve! The snow-white uniform with a red floral pattern on the right side that covered part of the sleeve was remotely similar to that of the Russian Olympic team.

"At ease, eagles! What's wrong with the tree?"

"This is my fault, Your Lordship!" The energetic voice of Ittori Cadet Ogerd came out. "I had suggested an alley race to practice ultra-low altitude flying and to get to know the machines better. But, unfortunately, the inertia of the flier was unusually high, and I lost control in a turn," the pilot stopped and looked cheerfully at Alex, like oh, come on, it's nothing.

They're not afraid of the bosses, the bastards, they break three-hundred-year-old trees and don't give a damn! I wonder if they're all like that, or if Taer has recruited the craziest of them.

"All right," Alex sighed. "Keep practicing your ultra-low flying, but if you crack any more, I'll take it out of your pay. Dismissed!"

The troops hastily retreated out of sight of their superiors, the pilots ran to their machines, and the two master operators headed for the castle, followed by Taer...

"And you, Sain Lieutenant Diltar, I'm going to ask... to stay," Alex grinned. He waited until Taer came closer and asked with an air of concern in his voice:

"What, you haven't slept at all?"

"I slept!" the 'specialist' answered defiantly but, with a sigh, admitted it. "An hour and a half."

Alex took a jar of Fenote from his pocket and poured six capsules into the palm of his hand:

"Take it. You're scary to look at.. Eyes like a mad herring."

"Would it help?" Taer hesitated. "My memory is fine."

Alex dropped the capsules onto her palm:

"Chew it! We still have the Unification party ahead."

She looked doubtfully at the blue pills in the palm of her hand and, with a sigh, sent them into her mouth.

After a few minutes, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze became more meaningful.

"There were no less adventurous ones out there, were there?" Alex nodded at the flyers that were bobbing wildly around the alleyways, picking up tattered leaves and small branches.

"The less adventurous don't go to the Stormtroopers," Taer shrugged. "And they don't teach the rest of them to fly low, and we all get screwed up," she nodded toward the fallen tree.

"Well, you know best. Have all the preparations for attending the celebrations been completed?"

"Yeah, we're all set. In the remaining four hours, we'll change the power units on the flyers, have breakfast, and then we can move out."

* * *​

Baroness Rionale also joined us for breakfast. As usual, fresh, smiling, and charming. She complained that she couldn't decide on a dress for the ball, which would take place after the official events were over. She asked for help in this difficult matter, looking at Alex with a hint. He did not refuse, so he spent the remaining two hours before departure in a very entertaining way.

Yeah, it certainly wasn't going to happen without my help! He thought, slowly unbuttoning Kayrin's dress. With each clasp, the Baroness's perfect back exposed more and more, the clasps going almost to her... buttocks, causing his head to think, I wonder if she chose this style on purpose?

The help in choosing a dress looked like this: the Baroness would come out half undressed, and Alex would help her put the dress on, after which she would parade the new dress around the room, listening to the raptures. Afterward, with a charming smile, she suggested putting it off and trying something more original. Alex, of course, agreed with her, helped her undo the "most insidious" clasps, and - everything was repeated. Through this simple process, Kayrin managed to demonstrate all the advantages of her figure both visually and tactilely, making an indelible impression. Which, by all appearances, was what she was trying to achieve. But all pleasant things must come to an end, and with a cautious knock, Taer looked into the room:

"The flyers are ready. We need to leave in thirty minutes."

"Thank you, Taer, we'll be right down," the Baroness replied ahead of Alex.

After changing into the costume Barra and Taer had selected beforehand and tying a red neckerchief with the help of the "specialist", Alex went to the site, where three fliers were already waiting for them.

The vehicles were hurtling a few meters above the ground, trees, and houses flashing through the window. At first, Alex was sure they were going to crash into something - obstacles were flying dangerously close to the fliers - but the pilots seemed to know their job. At least they made it to the start of the festivities without incident.

They were met on the spot by a dozen anxious stewards who were in charge of manning the platforms. As Alex now realized, those guys in charge of his platform were freeloaders - the rest had several hundred nobles to pack with merit and titles, and in the case of Lord Cassard, the panic on their faces was unnecessary.

Although maybe they were afraid I wouldn't come and the platform would be left empty?

Baroness Rionale and the stewards went in search of her kin - they belonged to a different domain, so she had to travel on a different platform. Having already arranged to meet Kayrin at the ball, Alex realized he had made a mistake.

Where was your head - the contacts from the "well-wishers" will come to you at the ball too! How will you get rid of the Baroness?

Mentally berating himself for his excessive preoccupation with female charms, Alex, accompanied by Taer and the stewards, made his way to his platform.

They were already waiting there. A short, or rather petite, girl in her twenties, gray-eyed with a hint of green, her coal-black hair pulled up into a long ponytail with a gold fishtail. A dark blue dress with open shoulders and a skirt that flared downward, ending just below the knee. Her shoes, with their incredible heels, made her look a little taller, but she was still barely over Alex's shoulder. Behind her were two young men of the most determined appearance, dressed in dark scarlet, almost purple, uniforms with a high, standing collar. Their right shoulders were covered by black leather capes with a griffin pattern.

That was also the attire of the dandy who had flown in for the baroness from the Representation, so these two were the guards of the House of Fyron...

When she saw them approach, the girl smiled dazzlingly and went to meet them:

"Lord Cassard! You have no idea how glad I am to see you! I was afraid you weren't coming..." she paused, eyeing Alex curiously, seeing that he didn't recognize her, and glancing expressively at the "security specialist". "Don't be silent, Taer! Introduce me!"

"Daim Esta, Countess Durlurl Ergo Ca..." began Taer, but the Countess interrupted:

"Why all these titles," the Countess looked reproachfully at the "specialist" who froze like a rabbit in front of a boa constrictor. "We're having a friendly meeting," she smiled dazzlingly again and, with a wink, took Alex under her arm.

"By the way, Taer, my dear, I suppose you want to check out the platform before Lord Cassard climbs it? We're going to take a walk. You can trust me to guard his lordship..." Esta nearly sang the last words as she led "Lord Cassard" away.

"Of course, your ladyship," a pale Taer whispered.

"The view of the city from the cliff is spectacular, and I bet you've forgotten it, too. You'd be foolish not to take advantage of it," the Countess told Alex, a little taken aback by the display of power.

Weird - it looks like my brave guard is afraid of this brat!

Alex looked at the Countess in surprise - nothing was intimidating about her. A very pretty and graceful girl, beautiful, if you like inch-long girls. In the meantime, the Countess was chatting away:

"Actually, my name is Estal," she said with a smile. "But Estal Durlurl is kind of silly. Doesn't it? So I prefer to be called Esta - although it's simpler, it sounds nicer and cozier."

Alex remained silent, not knowing what to reply, but the Countess was not satisfied with that:

"Well, why don't you say something, Lord! Well, say a word to your old friend!"

"Were we friends?" Alex asked cautiously.

"And very close..." she murmured in his ear, her hot breath on the side of his neck.

Alex took a new look at the girl, falsely lingering his gaze on her distinctive roundness.

So, that was who Lord Cassard was spending his evenings with, and that she was very much... It was only strange that she had shown up so late. Or maybe it's some old relationship that's grown into a friendship? His thoughts were interrupted by a peal of laughter:

"Ay-yi-yi, your lordship," she wagged her finger at him playfully. "I know what you're thinking!"

"Lordship" wanted to make excuses, but decided it would look silly, so he preferred to change the subject:

"Why "your lordship" if we're old friends?"

"Indeed! To hell with these formalities between old friends! I'll just get rid of my dummies, and we'll talk like humans," she turned to the guardsmen, who had followed the Countess at all times:

"Leave us the orber and go and help Taer or something..."

"Yes, Your Ladyship!" With these words, one of the guardsmen removed something from his belt that Alex first mistook for a grenade and threw it in the direction of the Countess.

A small ball the size of an orange hovered at the top of the trajectory and began circling Alex and Countess Durlurl, humming softly. The guardsmen turned around in unison and walked quickly towards the platform.

He and the Countess, accompanied by the strange balloon, moved a hundred meters away from the platforms and stopped at a low stone railing.

There was a cliff beyond the railing - it looked like the 'gathering place' was set on top of a small mountain or a large hill. There was a city below, and the view was magnificent.

"Very pretty indeed," Alex appraised the view.

"I'm glad you liked it," the Countess smiled sweetly. "Alex... or should I say Alessie?"

"Alex is better."

"You know, I have amazing news for you!" She announced happily. "I found you a bride!"

"And who is that?" Alex asked cautiously.

"Valerie Bellar!" The Countess solemnly declared.

OK, I've heard that name before. What a terrific arrangement for political gain on the one hand and financial gain on the other... but where my interest lies are unclear.

"The Ruling Lady of House Bentar?" he cautiously clarified.

"Well, who else? She is! Clever, beautiful, and a very positive girl! We've already arranged everything - all the political niceties have been taken care of, just the formal details: publicity of your hopeless love affair, the engagement, and the wedding! So let me congratulate you in advance..."

Alex interrupted the rowdy countess - marriage was not part of his immediate plans:

"Don't you think, Esta, that's a bit too fast?"

"Why is it fast?" The countess was surprised. "You've forgotten all about it - we've been discussing the matter for over a hundred days, and we've finally come to an agreement with Bentar!"

"No, I mean the wedding. Isn't it a little early for me? And then - my reputation - what did Valerie think of that?" Alex went about his favorite business, one at which he was practically a pro - bullshitting.

"Why is it early? You're twenty-four, soon to be twenty-five - it's time to get married! And as for your reputation... well, that's ridiculous! Who hasn't made a mistake when they were young? That's what youth is all about. And, of course, Valerie, being a clever girl, understands that very well!"

It was worth admitting that Countess Durlurll dismissed the first batch of excuses with aristocratic carelessness.

"Honestly, Esta," Alex continued to fight back. "I don't see the point of marrying Valerie Bellar. I think it would only bring complications"

"Well, that's no way to treat your friends," the Countess pouted. "We've tried, we've made arrangements, we've found you a bride. And what a bride! A Ruling Lady! And you refuse!" She turned to Alex, gazing intently into his eyes. "Look, isn't it possible that the rumors of mild insanity are true? Who in their right mind would refuse such a bride?"

"Let's be serious - I see no reason to marry anyone. Especially Valerie Bellar."

"Ew, so boring!" She wrinkled her nose, and then her tone turned cold, and her gaze became prickly:

"Well, seriously so, Lord Cassard. You seem to have forgotten our deal - that's forgivable, but I'll remind you of the generalities," she poked a sharp fingernail into his chest. "You - marry Valerie Bellar. I'm keeping you out of trouble."

These must be the 'persuasive people who will persuade you until they persuade you' Taer was talking about, Alex knew he was being threatened, but he wasn't scared. He had doubts at all that Countess Durlurll was capable of frightening anyone.

"What kind of trouble are you protecting me from?" With the utmost courtesy in his voice, he asked.

"First, from yourself!" Esta smiled predatorily. "Secondly, from the wrath of the Ruling Lord..."

"And what kind of trouble could the wrath of the Ruling Lord and you cause me?" Alex asked innocently, slowly beginning to get annoyed.

From what he had read in Taer's notes, it was quite clear that the Ruling Lord had no direct influence over him at all. And if he did, he could appeal to the Emperor, who, for some reason, was not very fond of House Fyron's Ruling Lord.

"Don't try to make me angry!" hissed the Countess. "First of all, you will be in trouble for the fact that I know your TRUE nature..."

Alex's eyes widened involuntarily and an unpleasant chill ran down his spine: Does she really know who I am?

Daim Esta, pleased with the effect she had produced, continued:

"You must have forgotten it, but I know who you are. And I think you understand, Lord Cassard, that neither the Ruling Lord nor the House Intelligence would allow an Adept to appear in the Council of Privy," she smiled again. The smile, however, came out ominously. "And then, I can always take a hint about your nature of the Imperial Inquisition. Yes, you've successfully fooled them all these years, but mostly because you've never been tested hard enough. But if that's not enough either," she squinted her eyes angrily. "Believe me. I will devote all my intelligence resources to protecting House Fyron from you."

What is the adept? Or is that what they call transferees? The Countess was convinced that she knew some secret about him and that this secret was fraught with consequences, but Alex was certain that he was no "adept."

What if, adept, the gentlemen inquisitors take you by the gills and throw you on the bonfire? Or what do they have instead?

Looking at Alex, who was frantically trying to figure out exactly what exactly his terrible truth was, Daim Esta decided that the enemy was defeated and swapped the stick for the carrot:

"So let's not talk in threatening language," she took his hand, her voice warming. "I don't want the only line of psions in our House interrupted, but I can't have an Adept on the Privy Council, either. I had great respect for your father. He was a truly great man and did so much for the House. I wouldn't want his only son to die. So let's do as we agreed: you marry Valerie Bellar, and I cover your back. And believe me, in a situation like this, I'll be your most loyal and trustworthy friend."

The Countess looked intently into Alex's eyes and asked: "Are we agreed?"

Alex remained outwardly calm and even smiled, but inside, anger was already rising and boiling - he hated being pushed around and bossed around.

I've spent half my fucking life making sure no bitch decides anything for me! And now some little brat's gonna decide who I marry and who I don't!?

So at first, he was going to say something like, What do you think, Countess, what would happen to me if I just tripped and fell on you and carelessly broke your arm?

But fortunately, a timely wakened prudence reminded him that someone was already trying to kill him and there was no need to increase the number of people wishing him dead. He exhaled, gradually calming down: They won't marry me right now anyway, and then I'll see if I'm Adept or not, what that means for me, and how to deal with those who are displeased by that fact.

"It's a deal!" Alex replied as firmly as possible.

"That's great!" Daim Esta blossomed. "Then, after the formal part, we'll arrange a couple of recordings for the Holo-V. Well, you can dance together..."

"I can't dance."

"It's strange. You used to be so good at it. Well, then, just hold hands and sigh languidly," the Countess didn't seem at all embarrassed by the refusals. She took him by the elbow and led him toward the platforms:

"I don't understand your refusal at all, I swear to Ryan. With your abilities, you'd be, actually, the Ruling Lord of House Bentar. Wouldn't that be a splendid prospect?"

Truly splendid. For you. Not only do you get political dividends from House Bentar, but you also get rid of the "adept", whatever that means, by slipping him to others. With the prospect of that Adept running the place, you can easily control him by blackmailing him with the fact that you know who he really is. Win-win diplomacy - getting everything without giving anything away.

Approaching the platforms, Daim Esta deftly caught the balloon that was flying around them and must have turned it off because the metal orange stopped humming and flashing lights and went silent in her hands.

"Well, have a nice holiday Alex!" She practically jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't forget - I'll be expecting you after the formal part."

As Countess Durlurlle and the guardsmen who accompanied her departed, Alex climbed up onto the platform to Taer and, trying to look as natural as possible, inquired:

"What does Countess Durlurl do?"

"She is the Ergo-Captain of House Fyron's Intelligence," she replied with a shrug.

"Is the Ergo-Captain the highest rank?"

"Yes," Taer nodded.

"So Countess Durlurl is in charge of intelligence..." Alex bit his fingernail thoughtfully but remembered that he was a lord after all and could be seen. He hastily withdrew his hand:

"Yes, that's what I expected. Why are you afraid of her?" he asked Taer.

"I'm not..." she began but stopped and sighed heavily. "I don't know why," she seemed very uncomfortable with that fact. "She was my boss, and..."

Wow! So Taer is the Countess's man. Yes... I might be cut off by my security if I go against party policy.

"But isn't your boss different now?" Alex threw in a test bite.

"Yes, of course, Your Lordship, I am in your Arm, and technically we have almost equal status with the Countess, but... I don't know," the "security specialist" was clearly weary of this conversation and hurried to change the subject:

"What did she talk to you about?"

"She made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Alex replied with regret in his voice. "And let's not have any titles. I thought we had a deal, and there's no one around."

Meanwhile, the stewards once again ran up to them, asking if everything was all right, and warning them that the platforms would soon be heading out for the Memorial Wreath Laying.

Then there was a flower waterfall and scorching sun, and after that, it was off to the complex where the rest of the ceremonies were to take place. As Alex found out, they were not going anywhere but to the very real palace of Emperor Tail, built during his reign.

The huge dome of the palace and the giant wings were getting closer... The building was huge, but probably no bigger than his castle and - definitely lower.

Although maybe my castle is abnormally large?

The platforms slowed down and, after circling the vast square in front of the palace, came to a standstill at the front door.

Well, one last dose of formalities, then a chat with the bride, then with the "well-wishers", and then with Baroness Rionale. Yeah, I've got a busy schedule! Alex grinned grimly at his thoughts and stepped off the platform, taking the first step up the wide stairs leading to the palace.

* * *​
 
Chapter 13
Chapter 13

* * *​

"...and concluding, I want to say that we will never forget the sacrifice of the people who died for the sake of unity, to bring us all life and prosperity. They paid for our happiness with their lives! Eternal memory to them!"

"Eternal memory!" the audience responded.

Alex was silent because he was absorbed in looking at his neighbor on the right. The neighbor was also silent, but judging by the expression on her face, there was a storm of emotions behind the silence... Negative emotions. Not towards Alex, but - in general - towards what was happening.

The noble crowd was surrounded by a flock of stewards as they disembarked from the platforms and entered the palace. They quickly sorted the arrivals into a column, the place in the column being, according to Taer, determined by the antiquity and nobility of the clan. Alex found himself in the front rows, which were not crowded at all. Lord Cassard with "Lieutenant Diltar," a lone girl, escorted by two beasts in the scarlet ceremonial cloaks of House Fyron, and a small group of men with azure ribbons over their shoulders who were careful to pretend not to notice Alex and the strange girl.

"The Pell clan of House Peltar," Taer commented in a barely audible whisper. "The oldest surviving clan in the Sector."

Oh, yes, I remember! House Fyron and his allies beat the Peltars, who had previously been 'sector watchers', and they've been mortally offended ever since - they weren't beaten by... by the rules! Alex mentally chuckled. He genuinely believed that the word 'rules' did not apply to wars. And the local aristocrats, who were passionately poisoning each other in political struggles, must understand that very well.

Meanwhile, the convoy moved on. At the head, to Alex's surprise, was the girl with the beasts, followed by the "group in the azure swimsuits," as Alex called them, and behind them were Lord Cassard and Taer. Behind them began the tight order of the less ancient and noble aristocracy. And so, in line, they went to lay wreaths of remembrance at the "Monument of the Fallen". There were no joyful crowds in the palace, but they were successfully replaced by journalists and reporters, who settled near the walls along the route of the column. The thought of being filmed by thousands of cameras and most likely many of them broadcasting live added to the unpleasant feeling of nervousness, and Alex mentally cursed those who had persuaded him to come here. He walked on full automatic, thinking only of how not to embarrass himself. Next to him, pale with excitement but with a completely impenetrable face, walked Taer, holding the wreath that was to be "laid".

Fortunately, it was a short walk, less than five minutes. After entering the strikingly large internal garden, the procession approached the monument in the center. A large and slightly battered metal plaque with a concise inscription reading To those fallen in action at Toliara.

A modest monument - with the giganto mania around here, you could count on something the size of the pyramid of Cheops. The giganto mania is understandable, given the crowd that has gathered, Alex thought as Taer ceremoniously handed the wreath to two guardsmen in the dark gold uniform of House Bentar.

After the laying of the wreaths, a series of speeches began. A representative from each house, and sometimes the ruling lord himself, came out and spoke briefly, for about ten minutes, about "no one is forgotten, and nothing is forgotten". There was little variety in the speeches. That would have been half the trouble. But, firstly, the speeches were heard standing up, and, secondly, the speeches lasted ten minutes, given that there were eight Great Houses. Almost an hour and a half of speeches. During that time one might have been completely dumbfounded, were it not for the fact that the neighbor on the right was the strange girl and her no less strange attendants.

The girl was standing about three meters away from Alex, and for the first time, he was able to see her up close. She was a particular character: She was tall, about six feet tall, broader in the shoulders than Alex, and muscular - a real "Grenadier woman". She was incredibly tanned, which made her stand out from the other aristocrats present - they had perfect white skin. Her dark bronze tan contrasted with her short, boyish platinum hair and gray eyes. Her outfit also stood out from the surrounding ladies - dark brown leather-look trousers tucked into high boots, a wide belt laden with two blasters, and a light-colored long-sleeved shirt. The collar was wide open, revealing a powerful chest on which rested a massive gold chain.

The image was completed by a two-finger-wide gray metal hoop, without any sign of adornment, that encircled the girl's head and two massive bracelets of the same gray metal. Her face, especially compared to the local ladies, did not look sophisticated - it was not beautiful, but rather pretty, and the contempt in her eyes was not nice.

The companions were also colorful. A very furry "something" as tall as Alex's chest, looking like a six-legged raccoon with a huge tail like a squirrel. And a chitin-covered monster displaying magnificent claws on all eight limbs. The limbs were disproportionately long and had lots of joints. The creature must have kept its arms and legs half-bent, which made it difficult to tell where anything was in this tangle. Eight eyes gleamed red at the back of the tangle. The creature was intelligent, as indicated by the handles of its phasers that protruded from beneath its ceremonial cloak.

The fluffy creature acted so naturally that Alex could not tell whether it was a representative of an intelligent race or a tame animal. The mysterious beast, as if sensing his gaze, turned its head and stared at Alex with its almost round brown eyes. It must have recognized nothing of interest and turned away, yawning widely, showing a long pink tongue and an enormous mouth full of tiny needle-like teeth in three rows. This was accompanied by incredibly mobile triangular ears, which swiveled to indicate the source of the sound.

Yeah, the girl obviously likes to go against public opinion, well, probably to draw attention to herself. Or maybe it's the ceremonial clothes and the no less ceremonial beasts she's entitled to as a noblewoman, Alex thought, and asked in a whisper, almost without moving his lips:

"Taer, who is that on our right? And why did she go first if the Pell family is the oldest?"

"Baroness Istar and her squires. The first to go was because if the nobility and antiquity are the same, the older one goes first."

Alex found the Pell family with his eyes - there were a few people 'over fifty' and looked at the girl again, Well, twenty-eight, maybe thirty-something at most.

He was about to ask how old she was, but it was the turn of the party's hosts, the House of Bentar, to speak. His potential "bride", Lady Valerie Bellar, stood on the podium of the monument. Green-eyed and golden-haired, wearing a lavish dress with cleavage and what appeared to be a corset. A tiara gleamed in her hair.

Well, just like a Barbie princess. However, it could have been much worse - an ugly old damsel, for example.

The Ruling Lady did not take too long, quickly saying all the necessary words for such an occasion. She ended her speech by reminding them that "we will not forget this fateful moment that determined the fate of the sector and those who gave their lives to win the battle of Toliara".

With her last words, the sky above the inner garden began to darken rapidly. Soon the sparse stars appeared and grew brighter, the yellow ball of the sun flashed to the left, and the black disk of the night side of some planet came into view. Just above Alex's head a spindle-shaped spaceship floated by, followed by another and another. Above the garden, two star fleets were approaching, preparing for battle.

Yes, the special effects are top-notch, Alex thought admiringly as he watched the battle unfold.

It was unclear who was for whom - almost all the emblems on the ships were different - there was simply no uniform insignia. So Alex mentally named the fleets - Left and Right. The Right hovered near the planet while the Left was rapidly approaching it, firing some sort of minutiae - fighters, it must be. A few minutes later, the battle was brewing. A swarm of Left fighters, backed by smaller ships, struck a wide arc into the flank of the Right fleet while the heavy ships, moving in a straight line, aimed for the center of the enemy formation. After that, Alex stopped understanding what was going on and who was who. And began to simply admire the action, mesmerized by the beauty of the battle. Bright beams sliced through space, clots of shots smashed into the mirrored haze of shields, and missiles exploded in dazzling flashes, blasting fighters and smaller ships to shreds. The fleets fought with no clear advantage, no large ships were destroyed, and the losses of the smaller ones were roughly equal...

As a dozen medium-sized ships appeared out of nowhere behind the Right-wing fleet, the hulls flashed with blue light, and the fleet sped towards the Right-wing fleet. Alex thought it was the Right's reinforcements arriving, but he was wrong. The ships that emerged in a single group attacked the Right's heavy ships one by one, attacking from behind. In a matter of minutes, there was a decent-sized gap in the Right's formation, and two of their ships were slowly falling apart, illuminated by the flashes of explosions.

But then, for some reason, the largest ship of the Left exploded must have been the flagship, followed by another heavy ship and another. No longer bound to fight with equal opponents, the battleships of the Right slowly turned around and engaged the ships that had attacked them from behind. After a few more minutes it was all over - the 'Right' had won. The sky took on its natural color, the ships became translucent and froze in place, and the audience present erupted in thunderous applause. Alex joined in - it really was an amazing sight.

"Well, that's the end of the official part. We can go to the rest area of House Fyron and tidy ourselves up," Taer sighed with relief.

The noble crowd was in motion: some reached the garden exits, and small groups were forming - people were greeting their acquaintances and chatting animatedly. The journalists huddled along the walls and went out into the street.

One journalistic "squad" was moving purposefully towards Lord Cassard. He had no desire to be interviewed, so when it became clear that they were not aiming at him but at Baroness Istar and her menagerie, Alex was relieved.

"Lady Faith! Lady Faith! The audience wants to know what you think of the Unification Festival and the simulation just shown." The red-haired journalist swooped down on the baroness with questions and seeing that she seemed in no hurry to resist the 'fifth estate' she introduced herself. "Azuri Terbala. Free Worlds News."

The Baroness smiled sweetly at the journalist. And suddenly, without a swing, but clearly hard, she hit her in the face! The girl was just beginning to fall, and the Baroness's right hand hit the cameraman's solar plexus. He dropped the camera from his hands and bent down, gulping for air, at which point Lady Faith grabbed him by the hair and hit him in the face with her knee. The operator collapsed to the floor and was immediately kicked in the groin. It all happened in literally a second - here was Lady Faith listening to the question with a sweet smile, and now an enraged Baroness Istar was kicking the defeated journalists with hatred.

The men in black uniforms appeared from out of nowhere and surrounded the battlefield, shielding the scene from prying eyes. They began to exhort Lady Faith to stop. But no attempt was made to stop the beating by force. The Baroness's "squires" did not intervene either. At last, the Baroness yielded to their entreaties and left, surrounded by men in black, while the journalists were picked up by the guards of the House of Bentar.

There was an unnatural silence in the hall, which, after Lady Faith had left the garden, was replaced by the usual hubbub of the nobility discussing what was going on without looking at the victims. Azuri Terbal's face was splotched with blood, her nose smashed by a blow, and she was sobbing and moaning muffled. The cameraman, by the look of him, was more badly hurt. The blow of the knee shattered his lips, and the massive opaque glasses that covered his eyes cracked open, exposing the electronic stuffing. They left the garden, supported by the Bentar Guards. In a minute, nothing reminded them of the incident - the stewards had wiped off the blood, and several men in black uniforms were talking demandingly to the journalists.

"Is beating up reporters who ask inconvenient questions a regular thing?" Alex asked Taer, shocked by what he saw.

"Of course not, Lord Cassard! Such behavior is unacceptable, unworthy, and unacceptable to any civilized man, much less a nobleman!" A low male voice, coming from somewhere behind him, preceded Taer.

The "specialist" who was standing sideways and so could see the speaker froze and made a statue of herself. It must have been the big bosses who spoke, concluded Alex, who had already studied the Guardsman's habits.

He turned around and looked carefully at the speaker: a short, trim man in his sixties with a slightly distracted face, which was adorned by a small neat beard, graying with gray. His brown eyes were slightly squinted, and his short-cropped hair was completely white.

"How will she pay for it?" Lord Cassard asked, nodding in the direction Lady Faith had gone.

"Absolutely nothing, most likely," his companion shrugged. "She could have shot that poor woman on the spot, and even then the case would probably not have gone to trial."

"Is that in the order of things too?" Alex asked. "And, you know, unfortunately, I've completely forgotten your name..."

"No, it isn't," the stranger smiled. "But this is a unique case. Lord Sargo Athand, at your service!" He introduced himself with a barely perceptible bow.

"Nice to meet you," Alex replied with a bow of his head. "What makes this case unique?"

"By the magnitude of the participant's personality, Lord Cassard, by the magnitude! The Baroness Istar is legendary in every sense of the word! And renowned for her badass temper. So this journalist should have thought before asking provocative questions. Anyway, she got the story anyway," Lord Athand added with a smile.

"What was the provocation?" asked Alex, to whom the question seemed quite innocent.

Lord Sargo Athand glanced at Alex in surprise, then, as if remembering something, gave him a smile:

"Your partial amnesia has completely slipped my mind. Look," he held up his hand and pointed to one of the surviving ships that had so successfully attacked the Right wing fleet from behind. "This is the Cusaka, Baroness Istar's attack frigate, and this," the lord's hand pointed to the mangled hull of the Left's flagship. "The heavy cruiser Black Spear, flagship of the Outcasts, Baron Lormir Cassard's ship. They say he was her lover. Your distant ancestor, by the way. According to the official version, the Black Spear was destroyed due to a cascading overload of the shield modulators caused by a lucky hit. As demonstrated to us in today's simulation of that battle."

"And in reality?"

"In reality," Lord Athand grinned. "The Black Spear was shot almost point-blank from the direction where the shields were nullified by its allies, who had decided that being a Great House within the Tail Empire was far more interesting than being barons in the Kingdom of Fyron. This treachery brought victory to the Imperial forces. Everyone knows this, but it is not customary to talk about it. Now, do you understand the Baroness' reaction?"

Alex shrugged in response:

"In my opinion, she overreacted emotionally when asked about events that happened three thousand years ago to her distant ancestors. Even if we were shown an incorrect version of what happened today. It is not the journalist's fault."

"You misunderstand me, Lord Cassard," Sargo smiled softly. "This is the Baroness Istar. It was she who commanded the frigate raid. It was her lover who died on the ship, shot by traitors. However, even if he wasn't her lover, still Baroness Istar was one of Emperor Tail's fiercest opponents... and we are celebrating his victory."

"So she's, what, three thousand years old?" Alex wondered.

"Yes, a historical oddity," Lord Athand said with a wave of his hands. "Or rather, an embarrassment. Just after the collapse of the Tail Empire and about six hundred years ago, when the idea of secession from the Federation was being actively discussed, it became very fashionable to remember the heroes who fought for independence. And then there was such a symbol - the warrior maiden. There are still monuments to her on Fyron and the Kilretzes and two awards for bravery named after her. The Church of United Flame even wanted to canonize her as another incarnation of Ir'Ryane, but fortunately, they didn't get around to it. The historians have had their doubts as to whether she fought in person or was the mastermind," he gestured indefinitely. "However, men of science rarely have the same opinion. Six years ago, during an excavation on Istar, a stasis pod containing the Baroness and her squire was discovered. After talking to the real Baroness, doubts that she personally led the boarding parties and commanded the fleet fell away."

"Is that why her actions are met with such piety? Because she's a living relic of the past?" Alex asked, eyeing with interest the Cusaka, which happened to be commanded by Lady Faith.

"Well, that's why, too," Lord Athand nodded. "Mores were more direct then, and the baron in his land could execute and pardon without restraint."

"It must be hard for her here after all these years. And her enemies' victory day is still being celebrated."

She's practically transported to another world, you might say, a fellow sufferer! Alex sympathized.

"You don't say, Lord Cassard, it's very hard!" Sargo agreed. "That's why she's rarely in the Sector. She gets bored with us," he lowered his voice and, with a sly smile, asked. "Would you like gossip?" He waited for a nod and then continued. "They say that out of boredom, she's formed a pirate fleet, sacking ships near the Free Economic Zone. Collaborated with the Gnarm cartels - must have been selling what they seized - and then some sort of conflict ensued. That's why she wanted in the Gnarm space for the murder of the head of the Shiisrodak clan - Ropata the Wise - and his two sons. All in all, a personality of staggering proportions."

"And she gets away with it, too," Alex nodded understandingly. "As a historical figure."

Lord Athand smiled ironically: "Well, it doesn't matter what some gnarmes who aren't even part of the Empire say! And about the pirate fleet," he said with a wave of his hands. "You'd have to prove that. Whoever looks like that on the record is no cause for concern to their Ladyship, Lady Fayth, a person in the Emperor's good graces."

"The Emperor's good graces? Does the Emperor like historical curiosities?"

"Well, it's not about curiosities," sighed the interlocutor. "Because of her antiquity and nobility, as well as several legal and genealogical reasons, the Baroness is entitled to claim the position of Ruling Lady in two houses at once, Fyron and Kilret. The Emperor is therefore very fond of displaying the Baroness to the Ruling Lords when they get too carried away. A very graceful way of intervening in a situation on occasion. That's why she's so carefully guarded by the Security Service."

The men in black uniforms must be the Security Service, Alex decided, and he was about to question Lord Athand, who turned out to be very well informed, but his plans were not going to happen.

"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but I wanted to remind my husband of a promise he made..." A beautiful tall woman in her thirties came up behind Lord Athand, placing her hand on his shoulder. A tiara glittered in her dark hair with massive stones, and her black dress was adorned with a train so long that it lay another two meters behind its mistress.

"Of course, darling, I'm on my way. I was just explaining to Lord Cassard the reason for Baroness Istar's anger." Sargo replied with warmth in his voice as he stroked her arm.

Hearing Lady Faith's name, Lord Athand's wife pressed her lips together squeamishly:

"Disgusting scene! Poor Lakita, she'd worked so hard to make everything perfect, but this stunt had ruined everything hopelessly. And Baroness Istar herself - everyone has already resigned themselves to her behaving like a commoner and to these characters - her squires... After all, it's her own business! But some actions cast a shadow over the whole House! It's a pity, but some nobles (an eloquent glance in Alex's direction) don't understand that! And what's sad is that they represent the oldest families of our House, our honor and pride..."

"Unfortunately, I must take my leave, Lord Cassard," Sargo interrupted his wife with a strained smile. "I think I'll be seeing you again today."

After saying goodbye to Lord Athand and his wife, Alex turned to Taer:

"So, who was it? Was it someone in positions of power too?"

"Lord Athand has been head of our House Privy Council for eight years now," Taer replied.

"What an interesting man," he said, but his wife is a pompous, enthusiastic fool. "Well, let's just hope I don't give the impression of a nutcase," Alex grinned. "It'll be the Privy Council that makes the final decision about my eligibility, won't it?"

The "security specialist" nodded silently, confirming his hunch, and pointed to the exit from the garden with her eyes:

"Your Lordship, shall we go to House Fyron's recreation area?"

"Yes, let's go," agreed Alex, who had been exhausted by four hours of official business and, more importantly, was more and more drawn to the "room of reflection".

When they reached the recreation area, with the help of the stewards, they found the rooms allocated to Lord Cassard, two huge rooms with a private bathroom. Where they finally managed to catch their breath and tidy up.

The sheer size of the local palaces and castles is becoming more and more understandable. If every lord had a room or two, and they gathered in such crowds, you'd have to build something a couple of kilometers across!

Alex sat half in a luxurious armchair and looked around the room - it was no less luxurious than the one in the castle.

He put his hand to the embroidery that covered the silk-covered walls - the tiny golden flowers were as lifelike.

The other rooms are probably just as well decorated. Plus the servants - there must be at least a couple of thousand people for such a big place, and probably more. Someone has to pay for all this and in such quantities. Or all noblemen - owners of factories, newspapers, steamships.

The latter was very unlikely - he had interacted a little with the local aristocracy, but they did not resemble hardened businessmen. More like politicians, yes. There was no talk of business or money, but there was politics all the time.

So, the oppressive top brass is directly eating up taxes, and judging by what we have seen they are doing it in a big way...

Alex's thoughts on the fate of the underclass were interrupted by the arrival of Taer:

"My lord, there is a guardsman to see you with a message from Countess Durlurl. Her ladyship asked me to remind you that you had promised to see her."

"Well, let's go!" He sighed heavily.

They had long since fixed themselves up, and Alex saw no point in excusing himself as "needing to rest". So after leaving the resting rooms and passing the guardsmen who guarded their rest, they followed a serious young man in the black and red uniform of the House Fyron Guards.

Lord Cassard glanced absently around the palace, mentally preparing himself for the conversation with the 'bride' and her entourage.

His entourage and his 'bride' were waiting for him in the spacious hall, richly decorated with gold moldings and ornaments, the upholstery of the furniture also gold with fine embroidery. A small group of House Fyron was present, and familiar faces stood out, including Countess Durlurl, chatting sweetly with his potential bride, and Lord Athand, chatting with a stout older man. In all, the hall glowed with gold and the plastic smiles with which those assembled greeted one another.

"Alex!" The Countess exclaimed when she saw them enter, and, taking Valerie Bellar under her arm, she headed towards them. "At last, you've come. We've been waiting for you!"

Approaching Alex and Taer, Daim Esta lit up with a smile: "Well, there's no need to introduce anyone here. We've all known each other for a long time, haven't we?" she asked.

"Yes, we have known Lord Cassard for a very long time, and I met Mistress Diltar during the last golden season," Valerie said quietly, with a slight smile.

Alex, who was looking at his "bride", preferred to remain silent. He simply did not know who knew where, when, and with whom.

It could have been so much worse... once more his mind raced. Lady Valerie Bellar was pretty - huge green eyes, a doll face, and slightly full lips. And perhaps even pretty - a little shorter than Alex and with a good figure, though it was hard to tell if it was a credit to nature and a credit to the corset. Probably not stupid either, though the doll princess image obviously doesn't emphasize intelligence... Ergo, not stupid at all.

"Then I shall hand you over to the cameramen!" With these words, Countess Durlurl called for a group of people who stood modestly in the far corner.

Alex spent the next fifteen minutes with the idiotic smile of a teenager in love on his lips, holding hands with Valerie Bellar. The cameramen circled, filming them from different angles. "Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar holding hands." "Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar standing by the window looking out into the distance", "Lady Bellar looking at Lord Cassard" and similar idiocy. Fortunately, the photo session was over relatively quickly - the plan was to have a "demonstration for the public" next. Having listened to the parting instructions and continuing to smile non-stop, the "hopelessly in love" set off for a romantic stroll around the garden. The plan was to film some footage with a "hidden camera" to make it more realistic.

From what he had already seen, the various gardens in the palace were innumerable. Emperor Tail must have loved fresh flowers. The particular garden chosen for the lovers' stroll was on an open balcony about the size of a football field. It overlooked the sea, or some large lake, the water surface of which was now playing with the scarlet glow of the setting sun. A perfect scene for a walk of lovers, Lord and Lady!

The "lovers" were strolling along the narrow sandy paths that covered the garden, followed at a respectful distance by the guardsmen from the ruling lady's guards, accompanied by Taer. The garden was rather deserted, and in addition to the lovers and their guards, there were several other couples and just single members of the aristocracy strolling through the garden. When Lord Cassard and Lady Bellar saw the "lovers", they cast meaningful glances at them and hurried out.

Either out of politeness or a desire to share the news sooner, Alex decided, glancing after the other dignified bystander as he fled. Rumors of negotiations have probably been circulating for some time, and since we're walking together here, it means the high parties have reached an agreement. The demonstration for the public has clearly succeeded.

He was distracted by the quiet melodious voice of the Ruling Lady:

"It's a lovely garden, one of my favorites in the palace," Valerie commented as if casually running her hand over the soft and dense moss that carpeted the balcony railings.

Alex, thinking to himself, I wonder if I act like an idiot now and crash the wedding, will they kill me right away or not? absently glanced around the garden.

A few small trees with lush crowns were growing in the middle of small islands of greenery separated by narrow sandy paths. The islets themselves were formed by a strange, waist-high, green moss-like plant that had been clipped in the shape of sea waves crashing onto the shore. The waves were great - swirling and white lumps of foam made of some small flowers.

"It's beautiful. And the view of the sea is excellent," he nodded toward the blazing sunset.

Lady Valerie stopped at the railing and, leaning against it, looked up at Alex as if she was thinking about something:

"Tell me, Lord Cassard, why do you want to get married? You haven't been interested in politics before."

"Let's just say it was an offer I couldn't refuse," Alex replied with a frown.

"Are you so enthralled by the title of Lord Consort? I thought you satisfied your vanity in other ways..."

No, I just don't know how I can get away with it, he thought angrily, and said:

"No, frankly, I am not enthused by the idea, but I was persuaded by very persuasive people until I was persuaded that it would be better for everyone."

"What a coincidence, I was both convinced and persuaded too," Valerie's voice sounded a little sad.

"So you're not in favor of this marriage?" Alex asked cautiously.

If the Bentarians refuse the marriage, I have no problem with it. I just need to gently persuade them to refuse

"Frankly, I don't like the idea." sighed the Ruling Lady, absently stroking the moss-covered railing. "But the Privy Council is right. Our House needs an alliance with either Melato or Fyron to develop. And having considered House Fyron's offer, I was forced to agree. After all, the welfare of the House was far more important than my personal worries."

"Since when is marriage a prerequisite for a union?" Alex hinted as if casually. "If the agreement between the Houses has been reached. Marriage is nothing more than a formality to seal these agreements. Above all, marriage is no guarantee of the union's longevity: the political situation can change, and our houses can turn from allies to rivals. Why do something that could cause problems in the future?" he looked at Valérie expectantly, is it working or not?

"You're right about something, Lord Cassard," the ruling lady looked slightly surprised, /oh, so it also talks! "Marriage is not a prerequisite for the union. But how will my House gain access to the resources of the Cassard domain and, more importantly, to the shipyards owned by the Cassard family if I am not part of your family?"

"I see no reason why you wouldn't have access to these Shipyards even without the marriage if our Houses have already agreed on everything."

Valerie, said nothing in reply, only looking at Alex with a certain amount of scepticism.

They are probably afraid that without a defect they may be scammed.

"There are always options. For example, you could propose a direct contract with the Shipyards owned by my family for the services you are interested in. Perhaps such a contract would be an even better guarantee than marriage since it could be enforced in an Imperial Court."

"I'm afraid the agreement isn't quite what we need," Valerie sighed, and she stepped away from the railing and walked leisurely through the garden again. "But I'll think about what you said."

After taking a couple more laps around the park and chatting about the weather with sweet smiles, the "couple in love" returned to the same golden hall where representatives of the two Houses were waiting for them.

"The two of you look so lovely together," Countess Durlurl chirped happily. "It's especially good with the garden. I bet it'll be all over the channels for the rest of the season." Daim Esta showed her a clipboard on which Lady Bellar and Lord Cassard were standing near the railing of the balcony, smiling sweetly at each other in the setting sun, talking. The picture was filmed from a distance, and the details were poorly visible, as it was shot through the foliage, which must have been some kind of hidden camera.

Idiot! Pray, they don't record the sound! mentally scolded Alex, who had forgotten that they might be being filmed. If Countess Durlurl heard our conversation, it could create more problems. On the other hand, what will she do to me while they want to marry me? Alex mentally smirked - he didn't want to get married, but while he was "getting married", not only could Countess Durlurl not do anything to him, but on the contrary, she was interested in making sure nothing happened to him. And, therefore, is an ally against the unknown assholes trying to kill him. But as soon as he upsets the marriage, she becomes a person of interest in eliminating him because of his "adept" nature.

Yeah, it's a stupid situation.

After supporting everyone's opinion that the recording was very successful, Alex politely excused himself from the audience and hurried out of the room. He wanted to talk to Lord Athand, expecting that the head of the Privy Council would know what the Bentars wanted since they had to marry off their Ruling Lady, and he might have some idea of who wanted to kill him. And talking about Lady Faith was probably no coincidence, which means Sargo Athand wants something from him. He didn't just walk up to him, did he? But unfortunately, Lord Athand was no longer in the hall, so Alex decided to find him later, at the ball.

"Look, how is it that Countess Durlurl became Head of Intelligence at that age? Wasn't there anyone more experienced?" Alex asked the question that had long plagued him as he and Taer walked back to the restrooms. He suspected either patronage from a lover somewhere very high up in the echelons of power was involved or some kind of kinship there as well.

"Last year, Daim Esta was given a procedure of destructive rejuvenation. And the operation was very successful. And so... she's over fifty years old and has been in the Intelligence Service for a long time. And she's not a noblewoman - they try to appoint people to this position who are not connected to the Main Families."

Alex froze as if frozen: No way! Valerie and the Countess looked the same age, but Taer looked noticeably older - about twenty-five. How old are they?

"And how old is Valerie Bellar then? And you?" he asked cautiously as he continued to move.

"Lady Bellar is twenty-two, and I'm twenty-four," Taer replied with an ironic smile. "You think you've been slipped some old ladies?"

"What was I supposed to think?" Alex objected. "You look older than Countess Durlurl, and if she's over fifty, how old are you?"

"Come on, I don't look that much older," she shrugged.

Upon reaching the rooms reserved for Lord Cassard's rest, Alex and Taer were stunned by a statement from the Bentar guardsmen standing at the entrance:

"You have a visitor, Lord Cassard!"

When the intrigued Lord Cassard entered the room, he saw Baroness Rionale sitting in an armchair, staring thoughtfully into the infoblock. From the way her eyes moved, she was reading something:

"I didn't expect to wait for you!" She broke away from her reading and raised her head, the sunset's rays touching her face in a shower of golden glare. Kayrin set the infoblock aside and walked over to Alex:

"You look serious and tired. Is the holiday wearing you out, or is something wrong?" She asked, putting her hands on his shoulders. Now that she was very close to him, her face was covered in a network of fine gold threads interwoven in intricate patterns.

"Just some unexpected business," Alex brushed it off

So, it looks like the conversation with Lord Athand and the "well-wishers" has been ruined. How can I get away with it?

"What about your face?" he asked.

"What is it off?" She touched the netting with a slight fright, ran her finger over a few strands, and sighed in relief. "Phew, it's okay!"

Baroness Rionale looked reproachfully at Alex.

"You scared me! I had already decided that I would have to put it on again. It would have been a nightmare!"

"No, everything's fine as far as I see!" he assured her. "Just curious. I haven't seen that on you before."

"Well, you know," Kayrin explained. "My parents and the rest of my immediate family are really nerdy when it comes to ceremonies. And I find the baronial crown tasteless. And you can't get a proper haircut! But listen to them - come naked, but with a crown and all the regalia. So, as a compromise with my relatives, I wore a sevaril instead of a crown."

"It suits you very well," Alex admired sincerely.

The gold sheen of the threads was accentuated by the waterfall of dark hair and set off by the dark purple open-shouldered dress Kayrin was wearing. And the long, elbow-high gloves to match the dress added to the glamour.

"Thank you, all thanks to your help in choosing," was the flirtatious reply.

Alex honestly didn't remember such a dress, much less a net on the face, but made the right decision to remain silent.

"Shall we go to the ball?" Kayrin asked enthusiastically. "It's already in full swing, and then the unofficial party starts!"

"Let's go!" Alex tried to show enthusiasm, mentally resigning himself to the fact that he could not seem to get away from the Baroness.

Accompanied by Taer, who had not uttered a word since Kayrin had appeared, they reached the hall where the ball was being held.

The bright walls, made of pink marble, were decorated with bronze wrought iron, stylized as the shoots of some plant, these metal stems stretching upwards to the domed ceiling, decorated with murals, where they blossom into small graceful flowers. However, given the gigantic height of the ceiling, the flowers must have been enormous. The floor, of some light grey stone with bluish streaks, was decorated with a pattern in the same plant motif. Light green lines lined with crystals as wide as a palm glowed softly green and intertwined with each other in concentric circles on the floor.

The high domed ceiling was supported by numerous columns, their slender rows forming the elongated oval of the main hall. The columns made as if of amber, glowed softly, radiating warmth from within, and were braided by a dense network of bronze stems. The painting on the ceiling depicted a very beautiful dark red-haired girl in a long loose green dress surrounded by intricate floral ornamentation. The girl's green eyes shone visibly.

Yes... It seems that three thousand years ago, they were crazy about art nouveau and lively greenery here, thought Alex, admiringly looking at the hall. The gigantic room was filled with light and music, long tables with snacks stood along the walls, and around them, there were groups of people discussing something and just onlookers. Couples were dancing in the center of the room and, to Alex's surprise, above his head too - in the air, surrounded by what looked like giant soap bubbles, already dancing in three dimensions. The bubbles surrounding the flying couples were distorting slightly at the base, filling with shivering mirrored haze, probably to prevent peeking under the dancing ladies' skirts.

Degrade not only elegantly but with gusto! Alex thought admiringly.

The Baroness, seeing with what interest he was looking at the couples dancing in the air, immediately offered to dance. Alex began to talk about how he couldn't dance, and in general... But Kaнrin didn't listen to his objections and dragged him somewhere in the corner of the hall.

"Alex!" he was called out loudly from the side by a woman.

When he turned around, he saw two girls about twenty meters away - a short-cut blonde with wavy hair and a brown-haired girl with a high, complicated hairdo.

"And I couldn't find you!" The blonde informed him, not the least bit embarrassed by the fact that she had almost shouted.

"Who's that?" Alex hissed, looking at Taer.

He had grown weary of the sudden appearances of "old acquaintances" who usually brought nothing but trouble. And now, at the very least, he wanted to know in advance who had decided to make him happy this time.

"Lady Isalaya Marquess of Turang," Taer replied and, with a slight gloating glance at Kayrin, added. "Your mistress."

The day had been so exhausting and hard that Alex showed far less emotion than Kayrin had hoped for. For that, he could even make a joke:

"Oooh, I happen to have excellent taste!"

Lady Isalaya, meanwhile, was quickly shortening the distance with swift gliding steps. A tall girl of about twenty-five with a hawkish nose and bright blue eyes, her wavy blonde hair was cut short. As she moved, crimson waves rolled across her tight, long dress of deep pink. There was a kind of predatory beauty and impetuosity about her.

"Did you miss me?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving Alex an embarrassed kiss.

"It's good to see you, Isalaya, but we were in a hurry," Baroness Rionale stepped forward and smiled predatorily, her gaze very eloquent and not boding well.

Isalaya, with an "oops, who's there?" expression, broke away from Alex and turned to the irritant. The two members of the feline family disagreed over a cat (or mouse?) and stood - eye to eye - against each other, tails slapping violently at their sides.

Damn! Looks like there's going to be an ugly scene here with two angry women fighting, Alex thought feverishly about what to say to quell the conflict, but his newfound mistress beat him to it:

"Oh, Kayrin!" She shrieked in delight and immediately wrapped her arms around the girl, giving her an equally luscious kiss. "I didn't know you were here! Well? How was the Capital?"

Baroness Rionale had not expected such a maneuver, was stunned into silence for a few seconds, and had just started to say something when Isalaya beat her to it again:

"By the way, this is Liora," she gestured casually toward the brown-haired girl. "Countess Wistrile," the Marquise looked up at Alex and added playfully. "By the way, Alex, she's been dying to meet you."

"Your neckerchief is lovely, Lord Cassard, especially the color. Red is my favorite," the brown-haired girl finally spoke up. "Shall we dance?" She put her hand on his arm and then added, in a low voice. "And talk."

Baroness Rionale was clearly about to object, but Isalaya was hanging on to her, chirping excitedly, and there was no way of influencing the course of events.

The brown-haired woman raised her hand, revealing a massive bracelet, and snapped her fingers in some intricate way. A transparent bubble immediately coiled around her and Alex, lifting them smoothly into the air.

The sphere rose ten meters and began to move in a spiral amongst similar spheres.

"Now we can talk," the brown-haired woman said in a serious voice. "I'm Liora Wistral, Representative of the Anti-Imperialist Alliance for the Tail Sector. You were rescued by my men on the south quay."

"Very nice of them," Alex grinned. "Tell them I said thank you."

"We'd better pretend we're dancing," with these words, she took his hands and 'led' him.

Alex honestly tried not to step on her toes. Along the way, it became clear that the sphere moves where you go. How it controlled in height, he never understood. Pretending to be busy dancing, he stared furtively at his dancing partner and authorized Representative of the Anti-Imperial Alliance, Countess Liora Wistrile.

She was of medium height, about half a head shorter than Alex, or maybe even shorter, given the impressive heeled shoes and the high haircut, thin, if not subdued. She, unlike Baroness Rionale and her newfound mistress, could not boast an athletic figure and bulges in all the right places. Quite average, what they called 'no highlight'. Her face was unfortunate with make-up - bright blue eye shadow and orange lipstick. Not the best combination.

Although who knows, maybe it's the newest local fashion.

There was nothing remarkable about her brown eyes either, and he didn't want to drown in them, like Kayrin's eyes. An ordinary girl, not ugly by any means. But compared to the stunning beauty of the local high society women, she was inconspicuous.

So, all in all, a gray mouse with a 'but I'm smart' look, Alex decided as he examined the girl. But after all, you're not going to make love to her. You're going to do business with her..."

Countess Wistrile (or not the Countess, who knows) seemed determined to take the bull by the horns and got straight to the point:

"You are wearing the red scarf, as we asked, so you are interested in working with us?"

"Perhaps," Alex said evasively. "First, I would like to know what you can offer me and what you want from me?"

Liora seemed to be waiting for this question, a strange gleam appeared in her eyes, and her face took on a kind of lofty-inspired expression:

"We invite you to join the Anti-Imperial Alliance! You personally and your entire domain! In return, we shall use all our strength to support your fight against the usurper..." she spoke ardently, urging Lord Cassard that delay was not an option and that he, as a nobleman, should understand that the Emperor would not stop at the Houses of the Central Sectors - sooner or later he would no longer need the support of the Tail Sector, and then...

As the "authorized representative's" fervent speech was delivered, Alex's face began to look more and more like that of a man who had eaten a lemon but was forced to keep smiling. He was counting on some local mobsters, or at worst, local nobles interested in changing the current policies of the Great Houses. But he got some anti-imperialists! And judging by the gleam in their eyes, they were fanatics who had lost their minds!

Some kind of Boy Scouts... Alex thought disappointedly as he listened to the "representative" speech.

Being a cynical man, he did not genuinely believe in democracy, considering any power to be an elaborate form of business, and treated any suggestion of "getting off the ground and doing heroic deeds in the name of..." as a clumsy attempt to use him.

Well, or it's an inept provocation. If they fail to kill him, he will be imprisoned as a malignant conspirator against the Emperor.

The Countess Wistrile had just gone on to say that Lord Cassard would certainly have no trouble raising an anti-Imperial rebellion in his domain, which would, of course, be immediately supported by all available forces of the 'anti-Imperial alliance'. Even for Alex, who didn't understand a damn thing about local politics, it sounded like complete nonsense. He wasn't about to become a patriot whose blood would be poured on the next "tree of liberty".

"...and then all the progressive forces of all the races, seeing your example, will unite in a single wave of people's anger that will sweep away the usurper!" "Representative" Liora Wistrile seemed to have learned this speech by heart and was now sputtering along like a scribble, not noticing Lord Cassard's sour expression.

"Lady Liora," Alex interrupted her. "You know, I've been preoccupied with the attempts on my life. I thought you might have some information about it and might be able to help me."

Liora hesitated halfway through the word and looked back hurt and disappointed - she seemed to have genuinely hoped to enthuse him with her revolutionary ideas.

"Yes, we do have certain information about those who have attempted to assassinate you," the "alliance representative's" tone became noticeably colder. "And, well, if you are far from our ideals, we can sell you that information, and that will be the end of it."

Alex did not want to quarrel with a useful source of information - it might come in handy in the future. And saving a life is a very useful service that could be called upon more than once. So Liora had to be persuaded that he shared high ideals in every way, but as long as he was assassinated, he could do nothing to help.

"Are you sure our conversation is not being monitored?" he asked cautiously.

"A power cocoon," she circled her hand around the bubble surrounding them. "It interferes with any eavesdropping equipment. And I have a suppressor with me," Liora demonstrated her massive bracelet once more.

The bracelet, indeed, could have been a suppressor, or it could have been a recording device. Fifty-fifty. Alex didn't like the idea of having to trust someone else's equipment.

I'll have to hang on to Taer right after the party and keep up until she finds me so useful device. I need to get my own suppressor up and running. I'll have to find out how they work... and if they can be bypassed.

"Then I'll be honest with you, Lady Liora..."

Alex tried to give his face the same spirited expression as that of the "Madam Representative" during her speech. He pulled her tighter against him and peered into the girl's eyes with the carnivorous gaze of a hungry predator. All his acting skills were called upon to help. He was always good at persuasion and lying, though, as long as he believed what he was saying:

"My heart, like the heart of any decent person, groans at what is happening now. All the injustice..." He sighed heavily. "It is hard for me to see what is happening in the country. Freedom is dying..."

He had no idea what exactly the 'anti-imperial alliance' with the Empire did not share or what the Emperor had usurped, but he was not embarrassed by this. In such cases, it's not the arguments that matter. It's the emotional attachment. Deciding that "the one who does not risk, does not drink champagne", Alex babbled about how freedom is in danger, at the same time, hinting that his entourage is mostly pro-imperial, so it's too early to talk about rebellion and other public acts of defiance. He watched the reaction of the "representative," who, to his delight, seemed to agree - she did not break out of her arms and listened attentively and looked at him fascinatedly, like a rabbit at a boa constrictor.

"...and then I think you understand, Lady Liora - if I am killed, my usefulness to the Case will be zero, and perhaps even negative," he ended his speech a little awkwardly... but, as said before, it is not the meaning of the words that matter, what matters is the emotional vibe, very similar to the ardent courtship...

"I so understand you, Lord Cassard!" Liora sobbed. "I believed that you, like any nobleman, understood the threat to our freedom that the Emperor was doing. You have no idea how pleased I am that I was right about you! You're right - as long as your entourage is unreliable, you shouldn't act. I will ask the Centre for instructions about you, but in the meantime, my cell will help you find the people behind the assassination attempts!" she spoke very emotionally and a little disjointedly.

Alex thought at first that she had figured him out and was subtly mocking him, but then realized that - no - she was being sincere.

Creepy! Not an anti-imperial alliance, but naive children! "Kindergarten trousers on straps" and "fighters against tyranny" all rolled into one. How they haven't all been caught yet! Alex thought with quiet horror. Liora looks about nineteen or twenty, though. But apparently, you can't trust the local ladies' looks when it comes to determining age.

If somewhere enthusiastic children are genuinely trying to overthrow the government and they haven't all been caught yet, it means that there is someone old and clever behind them who benefits from the existence of these children.

I should find out what these rebels are, who invented them, and what they are for. Eh! I wish I had a 'Concise Encyclopaedia for Fools and Transported Persons' book, or a reliable informer!

"Lady Liora, I'd appreciate it if my real name wasn't mentioned when dealing with the Centre," Alex asked with a charming huff just in case. He rightly assumed that with such a contingent in this 'Centre' of theirs, every other 'snitch' to the Imperial Security Service.

"But then how will the Centre know the results of my communication with you?" Liora wondered. "And will they be able to send you instructions if they don't even know who to write them to?"

"And you tell them that you've made contact with 'Lord X'. You can count on his help, but he can't be active at the moment," Alex advised. "Let them send you the instructions. In the end, it's the increase in capacity and the overall results that count, not who has done what personally. And thanks to this scheme, if someone from your cell or the Center becomes a sni... captured, it will not lead to my arrest, and on the contrary, if something happens to me, even under torture, the poli... imperialists will not know anything!"

Liora resisted the idea sluggishly - she probably already had the texts of the victory speeches associated with the name of Lord Cassard prepared. But then she agreed that, yes, it would indeed be better for the "anti-imperial cause".

"You said you had information about those who attempted to assassinate me," Alex approached the question he was really interested in, as cautiously as on thin ice.

"Yes," Liora nodded. "The thing is, during the duel, a sniper must have shot at you. Our fighters neutralized him. Unfortunately, due to several different difficulties, we were unable to interrogate him, only to take a picture. This photo was used to identify him - a fighter from the PVD. In the past, when the PVD was not yet engaged in terrorist acts against civilians, we maintained active contact with them. We even carried out some joint operations. One of our fighters, who used to work with the PVD, recognized the sniper. And thanks to our old contacts, we found out that a large group of experienced fighters had flown to Copeira before the start of the golden season."

"Why would the PVD (I wonder what kind of terrorists they are anyway?) want to kill me?" Alex asked.

"We don't know yet. Usually, PVD actions are directed against imperial officials, military personnel, or people who actively support the Empire. You don't fall into any of those categories, especially since they prefer spectacular means, such as a thermal mine, rather than a sniper shot, which would create a far less public outcry. We have established surveillance on one of the PVD leaders, but so far, the team following him has not obtained any data."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Alex asked. "Like money?"

"The supply of our cell is very difficult, as the Tail sector is very remote from the main Alliance bases," Liora admitted. "So we're definitely short of funds," the Representative was clearly uncomfortable in saying this, but the anti-Imperialist gentlemen did seem to be short of funds. "We are particularly short of ships. We only have one transport here, so it's hard for us to move groups around the Sector..."

"How much do you need?" Alex interrupted - they had been "dancing" for a long time, and he feared it might cause suspicion and completely unnecessary conflict with Baroness Rionale and his mistress. "And I think you understand, in this case, we need "clean" money, so even my options are somewhat limited."

"Of course I understand," Liora assured him. "We need about three hundred thousand danarii."

"That can be arranged," rejoiced Alex, who was expecting to hear a very different number - he's gotten used to a slightly different order of money in the meantime. "Where can we meet so I can give you the money? And how will we keep in touch, anyway?"

"I've been invited to this Voigrom - we can do it there. Or, if you're not flying in for the hunt, we could do it during the Great Ring races. And as for keeping in touch..." Liora was silent, clearly embarrassed. "Well... we've already worked that out. It would be best if I were your mistress... In public, of course!" she hastily assured me. "That would allow me to see you often without arousing suspicion!"

Well, really, Alex smiled grimly to himself. Baroness Rionale, Marquess Turang, Valerie Bellar, and Taer is always hanging around... Another girl would be lost in such a bloom. One wonders how Kayrin will react to "one more" mistress. And the "official" mistress - Isalaya? Both, by all appearances, are not at all conflict-free girls.

"Yes, that's a really good idea, let's do that," he agreed tiredly.

When the orb descended, Alex saw a picturesque scene:

Isalaya, chatting nicely with some elderly man and woman in steel-grey dresses - clearly a couple. Kayrin tried to devastate Marquess with her gaze but was so far unsuccessful. And Taer, who had stepped aside and tried her best to pretend that she wasn't here at all... quite successfully, by the way.

"Alex!" Isalaya rejoiced. "We were just talking about you... or rather how well you dance!"

"I'm afraid that's no longer the case," Alex said with a wave of his hands. "I've forgotten everything - how to dance, too."

"Well, Keyri, say goodbye, and let's go!" The woman in the grey dress spoke up.

"My parents are Baroness Valira Rionale and Baron Joro Rionale," Kayrin commented as she continued to cast furious glances at Isalaya. "You've known them for a long time, but since you've forgotten everything, I thought it would be a good idea to introduce them to you again."

Kayrin's father was tall, grey-haired, and had a neat little beard.

Grey hair and beards seem to be the trend of the season, Alex mentally remarked, remembering Lord Athand

Baron Joro Rionale was dressed in a sort of collarless uniform the color of the night sky and light grey trousers. A massive gold hoop crowned his head. Kaytin's mother, Baroness Valira Rional, was a tall, stately woman in her forties with expressive brown eyes and thin "stern" lips. She wore a gray-steel silk dress covered in fine black and silver embroidery and sparkling with a scattering of small diamonds. A deep neckline revealed a view of her breasts, on which rested a massive gold chain covered with intricate ornamentation. But all the splendor of the dress was overshadowed by the headdress - a veritable crown - with massive prongs slightly bent outward and adorned with large black stones, deep within which flickered purple sparks.

It must be the baronial crown, no wonder Kayrin was shaking it off - that thing must weigh six kilos or more.

"I apologize, but I have to break up your company!" Kayrin's father apologized, showing his clear and deep voice. "The family hasn't spoken to the girl in two years and are anxious to see her, and it's such an occasion to have everyone together," he smiled regretfully. "And then, I think you'll still be able to organize some sort of youth party. Kayrin is staying with you, isn't she, Allesandro?"

"See you at the end of the party, Alex!" Kayrin said a doleful goodbye, giving Isalaya one last meaningful look, and left with her parents.

"Isn't the party over yet?" Alex wondered naively.

"Oh, it's still in full swing!" Isalaya murmured playfully, approaching with the gliding gait of a predatory feline.

"I will leave you, Lord Cassard." Liora smiled sadly. "I hope to see you again sometime."

After hearing Alex's assurances of an early meeting, Countess Liora Wistrile dignifiedly retreated to the back of the hall.

"Interesting girl," Isalaya commented, looking at the retreating Liora's back. "So eager to meet you, she even offered me money!" She laughed and winked at Alex. "You know I couldn't resist! What do you think of her, by the way?"

"Great," Alex nodded. "I'm thinking of asking her out."

Isalaya didn't answer anything - only a surprised eyebrow arched and she changed the subject:

"You can imagine, the poor parents couldn't find Kayrin..." Marquise complained with a feigned sadness on her face. "It's nice to have true friends who can help! Isn't that great?"

Really great... now you have to think about what to do with another girl. All the girls around and all they want is something from you. And not something good... On the other hand, if there were men around, would it be better?

"Looks like Kayrin has a bit of a grudge against you," Alex studied his "mistress" with a thoughtful eye.

Alessandro Cassard had good taste indeed. At least when it came to women.

"Was she?" The Marquess pretended to be surprised. "I think she was remarkably calm. Two years ago it would have been a duel or at least a challenge." She stopped, noticing Alex's scrutiny, and did a spectacular dance move, turning around, and showing herself off to all sides. "Do you like me?" she asked, flashing her eyes playfully from under her long lashes.

Tall and slender, Isalaya moved with the grace of a predator - dangerous but mesmerizing. The tight, slit dress accentuated her magnificent figure and allowed her legs to show just as well. The high, taut breasts did not spoil the impression of grace and impetuosity, despite their... ample size. And judging by the steep roundness below her back and developed shoulders - the marquise was clearly no stranger to the sport. (Fencing, Alex decided, remembering his fencing experience with Baroness Rionale.)

Eyes of a deep blue color, there was something maddening, playful, and provocative about them. What they called "impish" or, in Isalaya's case, more like "demonic". The blond, slightly wavy hair was cut short and highlighted a graceful face with "sharp" features, sensuous lips, and a predatory straight nose completed the picture.

"I like you," Alex admitted honestly.

I like you so much that if we were somewhere else, without all this political stuff... However, in the "other place," I don't think there are girls like you even exist... well, except as a product of photoshop masters.

In one swift step, Isalaya was at his back and hugged him from behind.

"Then why don't we go back to my place? I missed you," she whispered hotly. And suddenly, she bit her ear gently.

Alex turned his head towards her, her lips and eyes were very close and there was something about them that made him want to drop everything and follow her. Anyway, when a girl like that calls like that, you don't say no.

But, as always, willpower and common sense woke up when he least wanted them to. A very unpleasant thought crossed his mind: She was Allesandro Cassard's mistress, she knew him well, and she might notice differences in behavior. Or something else. Maybe they're having sex differently here. I'll fucking expose myself...

"In any case, we should discuss our relationship...," the Marquise continued to exhort. "In private. Oh, and your - blade," she pointed her eyes at Taer, propping up the wall with an absent look. "Rest while we... communicate."

Isalaya managed to say the last word so ambiguously that the part of Alex's mind that really wanted to go along with the Marquise jumped at the opportunity with a joyful hiccup and immediately 'made the theoretical basis':

Indeed, it's worth discussing the relationship anyway - an unexpectedly dumped mistress can start asking all sorts of questions and digging in the wrong places. So it's worth talking to her, yes, yes!

Common sense was powerless in the face of such a "pitch":

"Yes, it's worth discussing the relationship in private," Alex agreed cheerfully and turned to offer his 'mistress' a hand. "Where to go?"

"We will find it," she smiled, taking him under her arm. "I know Tail's palace well - we won't get lost!"

It was not a long walk by local standards, only ten minutes. The Marquess Isalaya Turang occupied four huge rooms, that is, exactly two more than Lord Cassard.

In the rooms they were met by girls in white knee-length dresses and turquoise aprons - they must have been maids. And four guardsmen of House Fyron from the Marquess' escort. Leaving Taer to "rest and mingle with their comrades in arms," Isalaya and Alex secluded themselves in the bedroom. And it was exactly a bedroom - with a giant bed and a couple of armchairs. The rooms allocated to Lord Cassard had only modest sofas.

She pointed Alex to one of the armchairs and walked over to a small table, on which there was a bottle of dark gold glass and a pair of tall glasses. There was a quiet murmur of wine in the room.

"Very spacious, my place is more modest. Did knowing the castle help?" Alex asked as he assessed the surroundings.

"No, it's just that I know the right people in Bentar's house," Isalaya winked, holding out her glass. "And besides, I don't share your famous asceticism. I've got the servants and part of the 'arm' with me. I had to put them up somewhere."

Alex took the offered glass and took a small sip - the wine might even be splendid, but it still didn't taste good, so the glass was placed on the armrest of the chair. The Marquise arched an eyebrow in surprise:

"Strangely, I always thought Bentar's Dew was your favorite wine."

Alex just threw up his hands in response, showing, well, I don't feel like it. She sat down in the chair opposite and was silent, looking at him thoughtfully as if thinking about something:

"Tell me, Alex, do you remember the party at Baron Cilaro's?" Isalaya asked cautiously.

"Er... no. Should I?" he answered, slightly surprised by the change in his "mistress". When they were alone together, her playfulness was gone, and her aura of sexuality seemed to have been turned off.

It clearly smells like another 'political' conversation, thought Alex disappointedly, quickly catching where the wind was blowing. No, of course, he understood that for the case and to maintain the cover story, the conversation was better than sex, but... the "mistress" was too good.

"You mean you've forgotten everything?" the Marquise clarified.

"Yes," Alex sighed, mentally preparing for another negotiation.

No, what the heck! They lure you into the bedroom with innuendo and then slip you into politics! You can't trust anyone!

"Do you know what happened to your family yet?" Isalaya seemed determined to go in from afar. Waiting for Alex to nod, she continued. "You do realize that this wasn't an accident?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so he did not answer. "They were killed because the new Ruling Lord's position was too fragile and their influence too great," she lowered her eyes, tracing the rim of her glass with her thoughtful fingers. "Especially your father's influence. After the battle at Pell, the Guard worshipped him, and his command of one of the Imperial fleets during the war with the Orders gave him a measure of political capital in the Capital too. All that combined with the wealth of your domain..." she stopped talking and laughed softly as she leaned back in her chair:

"You know, I feel so stupid telling you all this. You told me all this yourself when I asked you why you were getting involved in all this intrigue," she stopped talking again, then waved her hand, looking at Alex strangely. "Well, never mind the old case. Let's get down to business. Let's just say you've become the mastermind of a group of people who are dissatisfied with the current ruling lord and are interested in replacing him as quickly as possible."

Hearing this, Alex sighed heavily: Nice! I'm in for some kind of conspiracy as well.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"I told you before," the Marquess said with a frown. "Even though you're still the only one of your Clan, you're still very dangerous - your domain is rich and strategically important to the House. You are wealthy and strategically important to the House. Especially since you will soon be taking your place on the Privy Council. Living under the constant threat of death is not something anyone likes..."

So Lord Cassard was an alcoholic, a womanizer, and a debauchee not out of spirits, but out of the strict necessity of conspiracy. Anything away from the women and booze and they would think him overly talented and whack him just in case. And he quietly, in between drinks, cherished his insidious plans..., Alex leaned back in his chair, digesting what he had heard. He had two questions on his mind at the moment:

"Why are you only contacting me now? What do you want from me?"

"You see, when you were poisoned, we thought that the House Intelligence or the Ruling Lord himself had uncovered our conspiracy and were now systematically destroying its members," Isalaya did not look up and looked uncertain. "There was a split in the organization. Some felt that we should simply retreat, the more aggressive ones suggested eliminating the Ruling Lord and, if the situation was favorable after his death, trying to take over. I saw no point in arguing and simply went on the run. But now that we know that the plot has not been revealed, it is necessary to call off the assassins and continue the systematic work. But these idiots..." the Marquess was about to add something else and clearly obscene, but for some reason, she stopped, sipped from her glass, and continued in a much calmer voice:

"That's why we contacted you so late. It took until everyone came back before we found out exactly what had happened... When word got out that you'd lost your memory, there was some debate about who would be a leader now, but that's not important," Isalaya sighed wearily. "The important thing is that the assassins have still not been recalled. And we are not ready to take over now, which means someone else will do it for us. So they will be looking for the killers, and they can find them... What do we need now...?" Marquise leaned forward and raised her head, looking him straight in the eyes. "We - meaning you and me - need you to sort out the mess Dimir made, put him in his place, call off the killers and, most importantly, restore access to the accounts!"

Isalaya took a few greedy sips from her glass and added:

"Of course, you can't be an effective leader in your current state, but you don't need to be."

Throughout the entire speech, Alex honestly tried to ignore the effect of his companion's appearance and concentrate on analyzing the conversation. It worked, with partial success:

What can be said about Lady Isalaya Marquise of Turang? Firstly, she is a magnificent actress, so neither her playful looks nor her current heavy sighs are to be believed. Secondly, she is trying to drag me into some foul-smelling conspiracy event, although, according to her, I am already up to my ears in it and almost the chief organizer. Thirdly, as a manipulator, she plays in the big leagues - Baroness Rionale was taken out of action with ease and grace, and I was taken to the right place. Though, she had a first-strike advantage over Kayrin. And taking me to a pretty girl's bedroom is very easy.. Fourth, she didn't need me in the conspiracy with my memorylessness - she needed me as a flag to deal with some internal conflicts and as the golden key to some accounts. Speaking of accounts...

"What accounts?" Asked Alex, who had little interest in who was in charge of some murky conspiracy, but 'accounts' were always interesting.

"This is "laundered" money in "closed" OBG accounts. Only you have access to those accounts. In the event of your death, I would have access, but no one could have guessed that you would lose your memory!"

"How much is there?"

"A little over a billion and a half denarii," she grimaced as if she was suffering from a severe migraine.

Oh, damn, they've done a lot of laundering there...

"And how do I get access to those accounts?" Alex asked businesslike.

"I can give you the account numbers, but only you knew the codes. Maybe you wrote them down somewhere, I don't know," she shrugged.

Right, it's worth opening the safe in the castle, maybe there are codes in there. Or not, I wouldn't put the codes for a billion and a half billion in the safe. Actually, it's interesting. According to her, the Marquise will inherit the money in the event of my death, but since I am alive, she cannot get it, and I cannot get it because I don't remember a damn thing.

"Look, 'love of mine'. Why didn't you just kill me?" It suddenly occurred to Alex that this option removed all of the conspirators' voiced concerns.

Isalaya grimaced again:

"Because I am against it! Such an idea has been suggested, but without my support, there is no point. Even in the event of my death, no one else can have access to the accounts."

"Why are you against it?" cautiously asked Alex, who had little faith in the goodwill of people when it came to billions...

"Because the word of the Marquess of Turang is worth more than a billion and a half denarii," Isalaya replied grimly, taking in the rest of the wine in her glass with a gulp. "And then, I don't know about you..." she broke into a classic feminine - I do you, but you don't do me at all! "Our relationship meant something to me."

Maybe they were trying to kill me, after all, there was someone else's sniper during the duel. Or was the sniper from the people who were trying to poison me? Or maybe there was no sniper at all, and it was just staged by the anti-imperialists to gain my trust? Or maybe Marquesa is now just blatantly screwing me, and there is no conspiracy, but a closed account, which she had learned about when she was a mistress, and now she just wants to get access to it? The last idea reeked of delirium and paranoia, and Alex hastened to stop before the speculation took him too far.

"What kind of relationship did we have?" he decided to clarify.

"Friendly. I trusted you very much, and you trusted me..."

Seemed very trusting indeed since she was the one who had access to a billion and a half denarii in the event of his death. That's over nine billion backs.

"Friendly? Was the lover's status used as a cover?"

So it's a standard scheme here, and Liora is not original with her suggestion?

"Yes," she nodded. "It allowed us to spend a lot of time alone, avoiding suspicion. Well, sometimes..." Isalaya's eyes went back to a sexual frenzy. "Things have happened... Being friends doesn't interfere with THAT," she added, smiling invitingly.

* * *​
 
Chapter 14
Chapter 14

* * *​

A large, almost palm-wide, octagonal card of rough, dark green plastic lay on the purple velvet of the table, taking its place among its counterparts.

"The Triple Ring! " Asmi Lertar, a beautiful woman in her thirties in a long, light green dress, proclaimed and looked around triumphantly, her light gray eyes fixed on Alexa. She smiled sweetly and asked. "How do you answer, Lord Cassard?"

There was practically nothing to answer with. All of Alex's blocks had gone down at the beginning of the game, so there was no way to destroy the piece. There was some hope that the next hand would bring a pair of Golden Blades, but...

"I'll pass," he said with a sigh and threw the cards on the table. All Alex's experience of playing the local mix of cards and dominoes had been a couple of games with Baroness Rionale - he wasn't a fan of gambling at all, and to risk such slim odds...

"The Fyronians always pass when the odds aren't in their favor," Baron Janos commented with a lazy voice and, grinning wickedly, laid the Black Lord and Lady out on the table. The Triple Ring, so carefully constructed by the esteemed Asmi, appeared to be broken.

Alex glared at the baron and, smirking kindly in return, once again pretended not to notice the outburst in his direction. Baron Janos had been trying to quip Alex at every opportunity throughout the game. Perhaps the real Lord Cassard would have been annoyed by such remarks long ago, but he - hardened in forum discussions - such clumsy attempts at "trolling" only made him laugh: too fat, dear Baron, too fat.

Seeing the smile, the Baron answered with a look of anger.

Ser Ven Baron Janos was a brown-eyed, dark-haired, mustachioed handsome man with a dashing look, a kind of 'hussar'. He looked a little older than Alex, about twenty-eight, maybe thirty. A black leather hunting suit, girded with a wide belt that was laden with the hilt of a sword and a blaster. The rolled-up sleeves showed off his muscular arms, and a long, thin scar on his right cheek and a jaunty mustache completed the macho image. But this macho man was clearly not strong in verbal duels and fights. And he seemed to be well aware of this weakness, which made him even angrier.

"We just know when to be brave and when to be stupid," retorted Lord Sargo Athand, who seemed to think the honor of the House had been touched.

Three of his Blades covered the Baron's Black Lady and the Blue and Scarlet Knights took out the Black Lord.

"It's a pity that not everyone can do that." Sargo Athand added with a sigh

The Three Rings were restored, and Asmi gave Lord Athand the most bewitching smile she could - her chances of victory were once again greater than ever.

"Stopping in time? The Fyronians?" laughed Lady Nadine Pell, a gorgeous green-eyed beauty in a pale blue camisole decorated with abundant gold embroidery. "That was the most absurd thing I'd ever heard."

Laughing out loud, she leaned back in her chair and shook her head to flick her hair away from her face. A wave of long, fiery red curls swept over Alex, scenting him with a delicate floral perfume. Lady Nadine had been paired with Lord Cassard and seemed to find it hard to do. For one thing, as the ruling member of the House of Peltar, she was forced to play in alliance with a Fyron, and not just anyone, but with Alessandro Cassard himself, son of the very Cassard who had planned and executed the unexpected and dastardly (from the Peltarians' point of view, naturally) attack on Pell. Secondly, and more importantly, Alex played a very average game, undermining Lady Pell's chances of winning.

"Fyron won't stop until he's conquered the whole Sector," Nadina added and dropped her cards too.

"The last time House Fyron had expanded its territory was over four hundred years ago, adding a Neutral Sector that did not belong to any of the Great Houses," Baroness Rionale said as if casually, laying out a rack of Guardsmen on six colors. Kayrin was pairing up with Asmi, and everything was going towards a victory for this duo, which was clearly to her liking. And given that their main rivals for most of the game were the pairing of Alex and Nadina, the victory promised to be particularly sweet.

"And the occupation of the seven systems doesn't count, of course?" A sarcastic man in his sixties with a large bald head and a small grey beard asked.

Baron Antrem, head of the Privy Council of House Kilret. His dark green camisole was unbuttoned, revealing a snow-white shirt and a massive gold chain with links as thick as a finger. A broad golden belt only emphasized his rather imposing belly, and his powerful arms and shoulders indicated that the baron had once boasted a hero physique. He was paired with Baron Venom Janos and was now doing his best to destroy Asmi's Triple Ring, but his pair of Knights Black and Gold weren't even strong enough to deal with Kayrin's Four of Guardsmen.

"These systems were never officially part of House Fyron," Lord Athand replied.

"Oh, that's a caveat worthy of a Twilight Adept! Bravo!" Baron Antrem did not let up. "You could say it wasn't an occupation, but the transfer under a responsible administration."

"Strange to hear you talk about excuses. Doesn't your house buy Strike Cruisers on Tallan under quotas for antipiracy ships, calling them - Assault Frigates?" Earl Marell Kerrim, a knight of House Ispar, inquired.

"If it's not carrying his fighters, it's a frigate!" Antrem snapped, discarding his cards. "And besides, the Emperor's representative didn't find any wrongdoing in that!"

"Oh, that's an excuse worthy of a Twilight Adept!" Marell returned the courtesy.

"You and your ally Fyron are no better. Take, for example, the infamous representative program." Nadine Pell rushed to Baron Antrem's aid. After all, House Kilret remained the only ally of House Peltar.

"What's wrong with our representative program?" Lord Athand resented it.

"Well, for example - the purchase of yachts."

"You know that, unfortunately, not all members of House Fyron can afford to buy their ship..." Lord Athand was eager to explain: "That's why, apart from pensions, our House has also decided to give yachts for representation purposes to those noblemen who are in certain financial difficulties so that they can lead a life in keeping with their status."

Wow, they live here! Mentally marveled at Alex. So, if any of the noble class cannot degrade further on their own money, they will be provided with everything they need from the treasury. I wonder how much this 'poverty allowance' is?

"Is that why you bought three hundred boats?" Nadine innocently asked.

"Why not? We can afford it!" Lord Athand shrugged. "And besides, we have over a hundred clans in our House - they are quite numerous, and we are even thinking of increasing the number of yachts!"

Nadine stepped forward and asked, narrowing her eyes slightly:

"And the fact that the yachts purchased turned out to be Aegis models is surely a coincidence?"

"A reliable yacht, well established. And spacious, and very many ladies prefer to travel with a rather large entourage."

"Yes?" Nadine was indignant. "The fact that this ship has nearly corvette-like fields... The fact that it can be armed in two hours by four technicians... The fact that it has two moorings to which your stormtroopers can easily dock... Is that all it takes, a cute little thing? And then, of course, it's purely coincidental, just a silly coincidence, that House Fyron has decided to increase the number of Stormtroopers by six hundred vehicles. Isn't it?"

"The Stormtroopers are being ramped up in line with the planetary security plan," Lord Athand replied in a condescending tone of voice. "And the Aegis' external sling assemblies are used to transport flyers and shuttles, as you know...

"You're simply bypassing the Emperor's edict limiting the number of hyperdrive warships!" Nadina persisted.

"The Aegis is a civilian ship. And besides, the Emperor's representative found no wrongdoing in that." Lord Athand replied with a smile, taking advantage of Baron Antrem's argument, which was what Nadine was defending.

"Please, no more politics," pleaded Lord Asparo Velaske, who was acting as the organizer of the current Voigrom from the House of Melato. "We are, after all, on a hunt, not at a meeting of the Council of Great Houses."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about that since the entire Imperial fleet is at the disposal of House Melato," Nadine quipped.

She stood up from the table, adjusting the dress that didn't exist, and turned to Alex with a cold smile:

"Thank you for playing, Lord Cassard. You have been a pleasant partner. And congratulations on your victory, dear Lartar, and to you, Lady Kayrin. My loss will be brought to you by my secretary," with these words, she quickly left the games room.

"Pity the Lady Nadine has left us," Asmi sighed, leaning back in her chair and picking up her glass of wine, "Now we'll have to find another person for the fourth pair. Lady Kayrin, will you continue to be my partner?"

And, after waiting for Baroness Rionale to nod, the esteemed Lartar suggested:

"Another match, then? Just find the eighth..."

"Dear Asmee, I'm a little tired, so I'm going to hold off," Alex said. "And I'm not much of a player, so you can play three doubles."

He put his loss on the table - two cards of five thousand denarii - and hurriedly slipped away before Baroness Rionale could think of anything. After all, he had come to this Voigrom to meet Liora, and that was a meeting best held without witnesses.

Well, almost no witnesses - Taer will know anyway. Alex mentally corrected himself.

During the day's flight from Copeira to Estella (where the Voigrom was taking place), he decided, after much deliberation, to tell Taer everything, believing, not unreasonably, that he could not do without confidants, and that much depended on Taer as it was. His only concern was whether his "security specialist" was "snitching" to Countess Durlurl, so to speak, "for old times' sake". Intuition said no snitching - not the right person - and reason countered that given the panic-stricken terror, Taer felt towards her former boss, she should only "ask properly" for her to tell it all herself. But, in any case, hiding from someone who literally follows you around and sleeps in the next bedroom is extremely problematic. So when Taer came into his quarters to report on the execution of the security arrangements, Alex decided to have a 'heart-to-heart' talk.

* * *​

A short, rather timid knock on the door distracted Alex from his meditative contemplation. He stared at the blue pulsing fabric of hyperspace that rippled outside the window. It was his way of trying to cope with the excess of emotions and impressions. Just ten days ago, he could only dream of flying into space, and now he was aboard his own goddamn yacht, flying to another star to hunt some native beasties there.

People have gone crazy for less.

He grinned and placed his hand on the cool surface of the huge window that occupied a good half of one of the bedroom walls. Beneath his palm, behind the thin layer of glass and force fields, a living hyper tunnel glittered and pulsed as if it were alive. The one his yacht had pierced through on its way to Estelle.

The knock on the door was repeated, this time more audacious.

"It's open!" Alex shouted, plopping down on the long sofa along the window, covered with the snow-white skins of some very furry but unlucky animal.

The door, finished in light red polished wood, slid open to the side, and Taer stepped into the cabin. As usual, in her perfectly white uniform, she carried a large plastic container in her hand, and a stylish leather folder with an infoblock tucked under her arm.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you too much, Your Lordship?" inquired the 'security specialist' with as cold a smile as possible.

After the story that happened in Isalaya's bedroom during the Unification Feast, Taer took offense and was again very formal, knocking every time and wondering at every opportunity: "Am I disturbing Your Lordship too much?"

The problem was exacerbated by the fact that it was Alex, with a protocol face, who told the bursting expert that it wouldn't be a bad idea to knock first. Lady Isalaya the Marquise of Turang, on the other hand, expressed herself in less conventional... in far less... or should I say, not conventional at all. Hypothetically, the Lady and Marquess should not have known such expressions at all, but not only did she know them, but she masterfully applied them, flashing at least a couple of very original idioms in the process. However, her ladyship was excused by the fact that it was her shoulder that had been struck by the paralyzing discharge fired "on reflex" by Taer.

The Marquise dodged the second shot, which was aimed at her head, with an inhuman reaction and fell on top of Alex. Thanks to this, the incident had been free of casualties and destruction. The only casualties were a healthy black and purple bruise on Isalaia's shoulder and a shattered kneecap on the shoulder of one of her Arm's guardsmen who had attempted to stop the "security specialist" from coming to her aid. Mere trifles, really.

If it had hit the awning in the face, it would not have helped to change the façade of the dress. But everyone got off lightly. However, the understanding of the "bodyguard" was lost. When it became clear that what was happening in the bedroom was clearly not a threat to the life and health of the Lord (rather the opposite), Taer began to babble, apologize for her hasty actions and explain that the induced reactions required her to shoot first and then deal with ...

This was where Alex should have sided with his "specialist" - after all, responding to any suspicious rumbling and shouting was her direct responsibility, even if the rumbling and shouting were due to entanglement in the sheets and falling off the bed directly onto the tiny dessert table due to over-occupation with what was happening and because of the incredible energy of Marquise Turang. But instead of saying something like, "Oh, come on, Taer, it's all right - it's your job," Alex made an obviously silly remark about knocking and trying not to be disturbed.

On the other hand, at the most important moment - crashing to the floor and smashing the table to pieces, when someone bursts in and starts shooting... I should be given a medal for composure - how did I manage not to yell in foul language, "stepping on a cat in a dark room"? Congenital aristocratism for sure!

Anyway, since then, there have been cold shades in the relationship with the 'specialist' because Taer considered herself guiltlessly offended in the best of feelings, and she was even right in some ways.

On the other hand, maybe she's just jealous. Alex wondered, hypothetically, while pointing to the opposite chair. But after thinking about it, he dismissed that option. It's called overconfidence. You're an irresistible heartbreaker, sure!"

"Have a seat, Taer. What brings you here?"

"I've brought you a report on the measures to strengthen your security, as well as a report on how the allocated funds have been spent," the "specialist," said as she seated herself on the edge of her chair.

"Well, come on, it's interesting," Alex leaned forward, looking at the girl with interest.

Taer opened the container and took out a rather large suppressor shaped like a truncated pyramid. The suppressor was placed directly on the floor in the center of the cabin. When the yellow light on top of it flashed, and the room was filled with a quiet hum, the 'specialist' took an infoblock out of her folder and began to read it out:

"During the reporting period, five standard days, the following items were purchased as part of the security enhancements: one stationary, pulsating-type protective field generator with continuous operation of the Saphiron model, three high-speed flyers for planets with high radiation fields of the Porolir model with protection level IM99, personal shields of Sorquim Labs, two of them," Taer interrupted, coughing into her white glove and continued reading again:

"In addition, an increase in staffing was made to support the security plan. For this purpose, three Master Pilots with the specialization of "assault" were hired, and two Master Field and information systems operators were hired. They all have a standard five-year contract, with a salary of thirty-five thousand danarii per year for Pilots, thirty-seven thousand per year for Master Information System Operators, thirty-nine thousand per year for Master Field Operators," Taer paused again and looked expressively at Alex:

"If I may remind you, Your Lordship, you should pay your attention to the question of the status of the people hired, namely the Pilots and the Information Systems Operator - do you wish them to be included in your Arm or not?"

"What's the difference?" Alex queried with interest as he watched the performance of the 'Taer official offended'.

"The difference in status and position in society - being part of the Arm of the Lord is very honorable. According to the Imperial Edict on the Guard, it is compulsory for all those holding combat positions or positions equated to them to be enrolled in the Arm of the nobility. Therefore a Master Field Operator must necessarily be included in your Arm. Pilots, because they drive non-combat vehicles and information systems operators, may not be in the Arm, but may be on the list of employees.

"What would you advise?" Alex asked, getting up from the sofa and heading for the panel behind which, if he remembered the captain's explanation correctly, there should have been a bar.

"I would suggest, as a morale booster, that you take all the replenishments under your Arm. However, you should remember, Your Grace, that the size of the Arm is limited by Imperial edict. For the Lords of the Empire and their equals, it is one thousand men."

"How many people are in my Arm now?" Alex asked, hiding almost waist-deep in the alcove where the bar was located - nothing non-alcoholic could be found yet.

Tinkling with the stash of bottles, he asked: "By the way, Taer, do you want anything?"

"Thank you, Your Lordship, but I am on duty, and so I will refrain," the girl mouthed and added: "There is one man in your hand at the moment."

"Well, I don't see the problem then," his lordship shrugged as he approached Taer with two bottles and glasses. "We'll put them all in the Arm."

He sat down comfortably at the girl's feet, stooping down on the thick and fluffy dark red carpet that covered the bedroom floor. He opened one of the bottles and sniffed carefully at its contents.

"Hmm, juice, I think, for cocktails. What do you prefer, Taer? Juice or Bentar's Dew? It was recommended to me as a decent wine."

"Thank you, but nothing, Your Lordship! I'm sorry," she said, pushing herself deeper into her chair and moving her legs away from Alex.

"Well, suit yourself. If you change your mind, here..." he set the wine glass on the armrest of her chair and took a sip of the juice himself.

"If Your Lordship sees fit to enlist all the replenishment into your Arm, then you must also choose your First Arm. This man will be the First Sword of your Retinue." Taer was silent for a moment, raising her eyes to the ceiling as if remembering something. "And since you are the only one in your Clan and Domain - this man will also be the First Blade of the Domain and thus will be among the Blades of the House..." Taer, only now beginning to think what her words meant, spoke more and more quietly, and her voice began to lose confidence again. "Which means bringing him to knighthood, which can only be awarded to the most worthy..." she quoted the last words almost in a whisper, then fumbled for her glass and drained it in a gulp.

It had somehow never occurred to Taer that the growth in the number of her lord's arm might well have the prefix Daim in front of her name...

"And who would you recommend for the job?" Alex asked innocently as he refilled the Bentar dew into his 'specialist' glass.

"I don't know, Your Lordship. I think someone you can trust. You know best..." said Taer, barely audible, taking the newly filled glass in her hands.

"You know," Alex sighed. "I wish the person I could trust was you. You help me a lot, especially now that I can barely remember anything." He paused, took a small sip of juice, and, with a heavy sigh, continued:

"And, by the way, I'm sorry that I said "you should knock" back then - I was wrong. I really could have been killed there, and you were absolutely right."

"Erm... thank you, Your Lordship, it's my duty..." Taer whispered, still a little baffled by the prospect.

"...Two things really worry me," Alex went on, not noticing the babble of his 'specialist'. "The first is that you didn't come to my service on your own, but you were appointed by the Consulate. That is, it was not your own choice but the idea of your superiors. Maybe you saw it all in a coffin?" he asked, finishing the rest of the juice.

"Saw what?" Taer asked again, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I mean, maybe you don't like it at all and would rather do something else or serve somewhere else?"

Taer thought about it:

"No, Your Lordship, I wouldn't want to serve anywhere else. I'm glad I am, in fact, to be serving with you."

"That's good!" Alex smiled. "Then there's the second thing that worries me."

"Even two moments," he added, thinking, "Your excessive piety for Countess Durlurl and your resentfulness. I'm not perfect, of course. (Alex was going to say "not an angel," but who knows if there are angels around.) And I'm a bit of a nuisance, but you're a good one, too. You're the one who starts mumbling "Your Lordship" and walking around with an impenetrable face. That's not the way to do it!" He stated categorically and looked at Taer, waiting for her reaction.

The girl sat in her chair with a sort of distracted look on her face and looked through her lord. So the prospect of a knighthood seems to have struck my specialist to the core. Realizing that a coherent response from her now would be impossible, Alex continued:

"I would like my relationship with my First Blade to be more friendly. Something more than a boss-subordinate relationship. And more trusting," Alex added, refilling his juice.

He twirled his glass thoughtfully in his hands and, after taking a small sip, said:

"You know, I need someone to lean on, someone I can trust 100%. And I'm willing to encourage that person in every way, both in terms of status and financially. Encourage him very generously. I would like to see a hundred percent loyalty in return. And not blind loyalty but a conscious and proactive one. That's why I'm concerned about your attitude towards Countess Durlurl. I have certain tensions with her, and the fact that Taer Diltar's guardsman is afraid of her makes me somewhat uneasy. Can I trust Daim Taer not to be afraid of Daim Esta?" he asked, staring intently at the specialist.

"Yes, my lord... I mean, Alex," Taer assured him in a daze and asked cautiously. "What's your problem with Countess Durlurl?"

"Um... how can I put this..." Alex started to drag it out, frantically thinking about what to tell the 'specialist' and what not to. "Anyway, she wants me to marry Valerie Bellar, and I don't want to."

Well, don't get married. She can't force you to, especially since you'll soon be one of the Privy, and she'll be forced to listen to you.

Yeah, except Countess Durlurlle is threatening to bury me before she'd let me, so scary, into the Privy Council, Alex thought unhappily. And I haven't got the tools to bury the Countess before she can bury me. I don't have a ready-made "my lady" and I don't have my own secret service - I'll have to grow from what I have... with unpredictable results.

There was Isalaya - far more suited to the role of "my lady" - but the loyalty of the lovely marquise was so dubious to Alex that he regarded her only as a "temporary ally"... well, as a fabulous mistress, of course.

"You see, the Countess thinks I'm an Adept," Alex admitted, deciding there was no point in keeping it from Taer. If she's going to tell anyone, it'll be the same Countess who already knows everything. "And she said she'd do anything to keep the Adept out of the Privy Council. Like, tell the Inquisition about it. Or somehow she would use the resources available to her."

She almost choked on her wine when she heard the word - Adept. She swallowed frantically and asked cautiously: "And you are... an adept?"

Who the hell knows?

"How do I know? From what I understand, no, I'm not adept. But I'm not even sure I understand what an adept is," Alex sighed.

"An Adept is a specially trained initiated psionic," Taer came to the rescue, clearly quoting some long-remembered text. "Adepts have different talents, but most of them can influence other people's thinking and sense of the future. Initiation greatly affects the mindset of the adept, making them mentally unstable and socially dangerous. Adepts must strictly control their emotions and adhere to special psychological techniques to maintain their sanity. After the Orders of Guardians showed their inability to control adepts, the Inquisition was established to control and select stable adepts and isolate or destroy unstable ones."

The last words about "isolation and extermination" Taer spoke in a dropped voice, looking frightened at Alex.

"I'm not adept!" he reassured her. "I can't read minds, and I can't seem to see the future, either. And then, as I understand it, I've already been tested."

But the real Lord Cassard might have been. Who the hell knows?

"An uninitiated psionic or specially trained adept is very hard to detect if he doesn't use his abilities." The girl cheered him on.

"I got that from Countess Durlurl," Alex nodded with a sigh. "But I don't think I'm adept. She suggested I marry Valerie as a compromise, saying that if I did, I would not harm the House. But if I don't..." Alex traced an eloquent finger across his throat. "That's the kind of trouble I have with her."

Taer looked thoughtfully at the wine in her glass, then looked up at Alex and asked quietly:

"Maybe it's not such a bad idea. You've never been interested in politics, so losing your seat on the Privy Council isn't a tragedy. And Valerie's a pretty girl and a Ruling Lady, after all. Or..." Her face lit up with inspiration. "You love Isalaya, don't you? But I don't think Valerie would interfere with your relationship..."

Alex stared thoughtfully at Taer, trying to work out whether this was a carefully considered speech from the talented actress and agent of influence of Countess Durlurl or - a genuine concern for his safety coupled with the romantic naivety of youth.

No, she seems to be sincere - "Katz offers to surrender!" Fuck you, gentlemen - the Russians don't surrender! - he decided with cheerful anger. - Some little brat is going to decide who I will or will not marry...

"You know, I think we can surrender at any moment. But I don't want anyone deciding what to do for me. I don't want to have a conflict with Countess Durlurl (just because her chances in this conflict look much better), but I don't want to put up with her diktat either."

"What to do then?"

"I don't know! Thinking is the first priority. Maybe there's some method of proving that I'm not adept?"

"A check by the Inquisition might confirm that you are not an Adept... And if you are?" Taer put the glass back on the armrest and leaned toward Alex.

If it's a yes, then it's a shame. And then to the bonfire or whatever they do to the adepts here. And if not, there's nothing to stop the Countess from still pushing for the purely political benefits of her alliance with Bentar.

"So it's not an option," Alex concluded.

The option is to "whack" the countess and replace her with someone more loyal. According to Isalaya, 'killing' is being done right now, but 'bringing in someone loyal' is a problem, so it's better to put off 'killing' for the time being.

"Well, I hope we can work something out." Alex got up from the floor. "By the way, what are these?" He asked, pointing to the two massive thick padded belts and a set of massive bracelets that were in the container by Taer.

"It's personal shields," she informed me as she took the belt out of the container. "I was talking about them. It's powerful enough to absorb a dozen or so blaster shots or the energy of a small explosive device. I'd advise you to keep it on while you're hunting since it'll be more difficult to keep you safe when you're there." She added grudgingly.

"You see, I have to meet Liora there," Alex admitted.

"Well, if a date with this girl is worth risking your life..." the specialist said.

Right, she's a romantic... Do they have chivalrous novels here too?

"Erm... she's not just a girl, she's a Representative of the Rebels - they've offered me cooperation..." Alex said, a little shyly.

"Whose Representative?!"

Taer moved sharply forward, and in doing so, she knocked the glass off the armrest. The glass fell to the floor with a melodious clink and a dark stain of spilled wine spread across the carpet.

"Damn shadows!" She scolded as she raised her glass. "Do you have any idea what you're dealing with? If the SS gets wind of this...!"

"I understand, but they were the first to report anything intelligible about the assassination attempts on me, which is, you know, very important information... from my point of view," Alex excused himself.

"And what did they report?" With doubt in her voice, Taer asked.

"It's a long story..." Alex sighed and began to tell her what Liora, "Madam Representative", had told him.

His story was received with great skepticism - Taer suggested that the 'rebels' themselves had organized the second attempt to gain Lord Cassard's support. She suggested that, before it was too late, all communication with them should cease. He had had similar thoughts, but in the letter he had received after the trial, Liora had hinted at some new and important information "on a case of interest to you'.

"...That's why I decided to go to the Voigrom."

"If someone still wants to eliminate you, there's no better place and time to do it than on the hunt," Taer muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

"I know," Alex agreed. "And what to do?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, so Taer did not answer it. She got up from the chair and headed for the exit from the bedroom, turning around just inside the door:

"I hope this information is worth it." And went out into the corridor.

And how I hope so... Alex flopped down on the huge bed, draped in black silk bedspreads.

Outside the window, the hypertunnel pulsed in a blue haze.

"Damn, what a mess I've been in!" He complained aloud.

* * *​
 
Chapter 15
Chapter 15

* * *​

Taer moved her body slightly to the right and, without stopping, with a single powerful movement of her left hand, tossed aside the short blonde girl in the incredibly lush, dirty gray silk dress that had so unfortunately gotten in her way. She cried out in surprise and collapsed onto the marble slabs of the floor, arms outstretched wide. The older woman, standing behind the girl, was simply knocked off her shoulder and continued her run.

Taer was almost out of breath now and was "in mode", picking up speed rapidly - she was almost flying, pushing her body forward in sharp thrusts. Her shoulders were still, and so was the bullet gun clutched in her right hand.

The perception narrowed, and there were only three objects left in the world: her, her partner, and the target. Everything else was only an obstacle in the way of the target - a tall and short dark-haired man in his forties, wearing a brown jacket and dark grey trousers.

The man ran thirty paces ahead, easily sidestepping the many passersby - literally seeping through the crowd that filled the transition junction of the monorail station. Taer and her partner walked through the crowd like two blades, leaving behind the commotion and shouts of people unlucky enough to get in their way. This ingenuous running strategy was paying off - Taer felt that they were faster, and the distance was inexorably shrinking.

Their target seemed to have come to the same conclusion. The fugitive was no longer in time for the monorail platform. He jerked sharply to the right, towards the stairs leading to the snack bars. In a few jumps, he passed the stairs, jumped over a couple of tables, and darted toward the public restrooms. For a moment there was an empty space between him and Taer. The bullet whirred and twitched in her hand, bullets flew dryly near the target's head and struck the jamb of the passage, knocking sharp stone chips and fine grey dust from the marble slabs that covered the wall. One of the walls, unable to withstand the impact, burst with the sound of broken glass, covering the floor with jagged shards and exposing the dark red fluted base of the plastic wall.

The man cried out, reflexively covering his face with his hands as several sharp shards of stone slashed across his cheek. And dove into the passageway.

Taer froze in the aisle against the wall, glanced at her partner, and, waiting for him to nod, put a machine gun out in her outstretched hands and pressed the trigger. A moment later, two machine guns were whirring, spraying fire into the washroom. The small room was filled with the sound of bullets hitting, the clang of bursting exterior panels, and the crunch of tearing plastic partitions. Without stopping to fire, they burst inside in one swift burst and immediately dispersed sideways, away from the opening where it was so convenient to send a round.

The gunmen froze, driving their barrels cautiously, but no one fired back - there were no new targets.

The small public lavatory - literally fifteen paces long, decorated with cream marble tiles - was tattered with numerous hits. The partitions of the individual cubicles were mangled and lay on the floor, which was quickly covered with water spurting from broken cisterns and sinks. There was fine stone dust in the air. Here and there in the walls gaped dark red patches of plastic that had appeared in the place of the split slabs.

In the center, lying face down on the floor was a dark-haired man in a brown jacket - the target. There were three gaping holes in his back near the spine. Behind the target, near the opposite wall, covered in shards of mirror, a young woman was frozen in a ridiculous pose. The sink beside which she stood had been shattered by several hits, and water was now gurgling quietly over her, making dark, damp paths spread across the bright purple suit.

Perfect silence - only the sound of water carpeting the room in a gleaming carpet. The water near the bodies was darkened by a slight reddish haze.

Taer pressed the trigger again, breaking the silence with a buzzing sound, and the man's body twitched faintly as several more bullets struck his back.

Cautiously treading on the wet floor, covered with squeaky tile splinters, they approached the target. The partner kicked aside the light stun gun the target was clutching in his hand and froze, taking a couple of steps back. Taer squatted down beside the man and rolled the body over onto its back.

The brown jacket was blackened with water and blood and gleamed slightly. His dark wet hair was sticking to his forehead, his brown eyes with long "female" lashes were wide open, a slight smile was on his full lips, and a thin, slightly upturned nose and the corner of his mouth were streaming out of a rather wide, slightly blurred, scarlet stream of water. There was a look of surprise and joy on the target's face as if he had been given an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

She started to search his pockets when she was interrupted by a surprised cry from her partner. Taer reflexively reached for her weapon, glancing up at the same time, and then froze.

The target's eyes glowed softly blue. Before she could even be surprised, the glow faded, and a small, apple-sized glowing ball of soft reddish-yellow was woven over her body at about the level of Taer's face. It was slightly blurred, like a candle flame hanging in the air.

And at that moment, a sticky wave of animal terror came over her.

"Close your eyes! Don't look!" yelled her partner from somewhere on the side.

But she was already watching, and a panicked thought was flitting wildly around in her head.

We killed him wrong!

She didn't know why it was 'wrong' or how it should have been 'right' to kill him, but she suddenly realized that it was wrong to kill him that way and that the touch of that fire was the creepiest and scariest thing that could happen. It's disgusting. It's nastier than death. It is to cease to be yourself. It is the absolute end. It is scary and vile.

The realization flooded her mind, she didn't know where the thought had come from, but its truth was obvious. It was too close. Taer wanted to run as far away from that balloon as possible, or at least turn away, but she realized with horror that she could not move. She couldn't even close her eyes! Fear gripped her. Her body no longer obeyed her - she didn't believe it could happen. Especially that it could happen to her - to be paralyzed by fear. Her consciousness was beating inside her paralyzed body, struggling to cover her eyes even a little - she wanted to scream from the horror that filled her, but she couldn't even do that.

The orb, swaying slightly as if propelled by a gentle breeze, began to move closer to her face. Consciousness howled with pleading: "Please, not me! Not me! Not me! Not me!"

As the flame approached, a tightness deep in her chest grew to her heart, and the nasty feeling grew stronger and stronger, filling her whole body. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream... just to breathe - to get relief - to die, but not this. It was already very close - the distance was so close that it was too far away, and it was too late. It was already very close - about a palm away - her face could already feel the soft warmth coming from the orb. And that warmth, for some reason, made her consciousness rush and howl like a terrified animal.

This can't really be happening! Her consciousness was howling. I can't be that scared, I have blocks, I can't be that scared!

Taer realized this was a dream; reality could not be that frightening. But she was sure that the touch of fire in her dream would be just as frightening and disgusting. She tried to wake up, but it didn't work, which made it even scarier.

I want to wake up! Please, I don't want to be here!

The fire was quite close, the first soft petals of flame touching her face...

At that moment, Taer felt a terrible pain in her legs as if hundreds of red-hot needles had been stuck in her calves.

And she woke up.

* * *​

She sat up on the bed with a jerk and gasped for air as if she had been underwater for so long. She wanted to scream to get rid of the unpleasant heaviness that filled her chest and enveloped her heart, but all she could do was wheeze. She was covered in sticky, cold sweat, both legs aching and cramped, her body shaking, each breath hard to take.

The blockage remembered that it existed - the pain had subsided. Taer dangled her legs off the bed and kneaded her calves to calm the cramp. She was still a little shaky.

But she was in her stateroom aboard the Estal and was flying on a Voigrom. The wooden panels of black fire oak with mauve silk inlays, the huge round bed draped in dark purple sheets, the thick dark red carpet on the floor... It was her favorite cabin, which was supposed to be for her Lord's noble guests, but had long since been 'occupied' by the 'security specialist' on the grounds that the cabin had a 'strategically important location'.

"And, most importantly, no flames nearby - I woke up in time!" She said out loud with relief and winced at the sound of her voice - it was hoarse and lifeless.

But anyway, the environment was soothing to her: the abominable heaviness in her chest had gradually subsided, her breathing had recovered, the large shivers had stopped, and the cramp in her legs was gone, only reminded by a slight ache in her calves.

And the flames, indeed, were nowhere to be seen.

Taer squeamishly tossed aside the sweat-soaked blanket and waddled cautiously with her still 'wooden' legs to the shower room. On the way, she slammed on the security terminal panel as an old habit, triggering the test mode.

Turning on the massage mode, she put her face under the tight, hot jets and exhaled a long breath:

"Be cursed the day I agreed to install the induced reactions!" she moaned.

Although the position of 'personal security specialist' mainly meant preventing scandals and dealing with unwanted leaks to the Holo-V - it was thought that Taer should also be able to act as a bodyguard, which required certain skills, such as hand-to-hand combat, which the former Navy lieutenant had no chance of acquiring.

So when she (by the way, by Countess Durlurl herself!) was offered the prospect of receiving Induced Skills, she did not hesitate long and agreed. After all, it was a measure that allowed her to enter the Lord's Arm without wasting two years in training - she could have sacrificed her right hand for the sake of such a prospect! All the more so at that moment, the possible side effects did not seem to be anything really unpleasant. Headaches? What nonsense! Possible insanity? Statistically, a fraction of a percent! Far more likely to crash on a flyer or not come out of another hyperjump. Death? Oh, don't be ridiculous - even rarer than insanity!

When the tests showed that Taer had an excellent susceptibility and rejection was unlikely, she was completely clear of any doubts. Anyway, she was given, as the clever people at the Medical Intelligence Center put it, "big, fat skills". The more complex and "better" the skill being induced, the greater the chance of conflict. Even if you've never had a similar skill. Because a true skill does not exist on its own but is closely linked to the personality. So, when you get a skill of this level, you also get a piece of personality... with all the consequences. At least, that's what scientists think.

"I bet those freaks in the white coats were just happy to experiment and cram three times their skills into me!" Taer hissed angrily, leaning against the shower wall.

But, as it was explained to her, she had almost zero negative feedback... Anyway, anyway, after the terms of the roll-out, she did not become a vegetable and run around screaming; "Oh, how colorful everything is". Which was taken as a victory by the project staff. And, in fact, they weren't much wrong.

Then there was a course of replacement surgery to bring her body up to the level of skills she had acquired, though Taer had no complaints about her fitness before that. Two more weeks later, having received braided bones, new tendons, altered muscle structure, and a perception booster, and becoming nearly twice as heavy - she began an intensive training session that would show what of the induced skills had been assimilated.

The result? Uh-oh... She could drive and pilot anything that had been released five years before. She was pretty good at fighting (to put it mildly) and had a lot of security reactions built up in her. She also developed the habit of ordering bitter taymar, which she hated, and wrapping non-existent locks around her finger (because she always had her hair in a tight knot or ponytail).

It would seem to be little things, unintrusive scraps of the "donor's" personality... But then the nightmares began. Surprisingly vivid and realistic, in which she died in different ways: she was torn apart by burst thrusters, she was eaten alive by some creatures, she found herself in an ion breakdown zone without bio-protection, she was burnt alive in an airborne capsule that had depressurized...

Taer, of course, decided that it was the donor's memory, hence schizophrenia. Or worse. But she was reassured by the psychologists and medics who were watching her - they pointed out that it was difficult for a person to die more than once, so it was not a memory at all, just a reaction of her mind to the installed skills.

"If you think about it, you got off very lightly - we were expecting much more serious problems, so just take plenty of sedatives at night!" The psychologist in charge of the project told her at the time.

"You should get off as easy as I did today with that 'orb'!" The memory of the 'orb' made Taer shiver.

Now, having rested, she could not understand what was causing such a panic-stricken terror. But the mere memory of the orb made the nasty heaviness in her chest wake up again. This nightmare clearly stood apart from the others - she had no idea that the horror could be so monstrous that she could be so afraid.

After stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel, Taer called for a droid to make the bed and, pouring herself some cognac from the bar, plunged into an armchair.

"It was bullshit," she reassured herself. "He was wearing a jacket with a collar that hadn't been worn in about five hundred years, and I'd shot him with a bullet gun - they'd been around since the Guild Wars, at the most, twenty years ago!"

"And that orb..." She twitched involuntarily again. "It looked like a description of Graceful Fire. But why was I so terrified of it? Maybe it symbolized my parents' religiosity, and my reaction to it was compensation for my failure to live up to their expectations." At one time, back in naval intelligence, during very long shifts, Taer had a huge collection of inventories from the "Know and Reveal Yourself" series at her disposal. From time to time, that kind of reading was reflected. "And why shouldn't one look at him? Idiocy..."

She sipped her cognac thoughtfully and looked at the clock that flashed on the small screen of her communicator: six in the morning, ship's time - no point in going to bed.

I won't survive another nightmare like that.

The nightmares usually came after the active manifestations of the installed skill. Fortunately, Lord Cassard's service was not conducive to active manifestations, and in the two years that Taer had been a 'personal security specialist', the installed skills had only manifested themselves twice - once during the poisoning and again at the Unification Feast, after the embarrassment in Marquess Turang's bedroom.

Yeah, it manifested itself, didn't it? Taer grinned grimly, remembering the huge bruise on Isalaya's shoulder and her tirade about it. Where did she pick up that? It's not like she was on the Guard...

The manifestation of induced reactions is a very strange sensation. Suddenly you start to do something, even though you don't understand why or what you are doing.

There was a lot to remember.

She thought I wonder what that rumbling sound was in the bedroom, but the accelerator had picked her up gently, making the world grainy, the sounds grainy, and everything around her slow and fluid. And the body that had been sitting peacefully at the table with the Marquise Arm Guards before suddenly literally threw itself out of the chair and towards the bedroom, simultaneously snatching a blaster and knocking the table over on those very Guards in the process. The Guardsmen got the worst of it that time, and the worst of it was the poor fellow at the door as he was blocking the way.

A side kick to the knee is very painful, and if the kicker weighs as much as a muscled man and a half... Anyway, the guardsman blocking the path was still falling, and Taer was already firing. She wasn't aiming. She wasn't looking for the target. She knew exactly where it was. This was a new experience for her. No, she didn't foresee it, like an adept. She just knew where it was, the target, as if she had entered the room before because the target could only be there and nowhere else.

Eventually, she shot first and only then realized what she had shot at - Lord Alessandro Cassard, partly wrapped in light turquoise sheets and partly... naked, was lying on the floor on his back. On top of him lay Lady Isalaia Marquise Turang, hissing in pain... completely undressed. Her porcelain shoulder was reddened by a paralyzing shock, and her left arm was hanging by a whip.

Taer, who until then had only been an unconcerned observer, had managed to think aloofly that "I think Isalaya has bigger breasts" when suddenly the "installed skill" "realized" that the protected object was in no danger and made her hand, leaving Taer alone with the noble gentlemen.

With very annoyed noble gentlemen..., Taer pulled out a tracksuit from the wardrobe. She decided to go to the gym - she hadn't been able to find time to exercise lately, and it was making itself felt with the occasional cramp. She had to pay for everything: cramps for her altered muscle structure, nightmares for her induced reactions, and an inability to wear pretty shoes with heels and swim in the pool without a compensator for her heavy weight (despite her rather graceful contours).

I wonder what I'll have to pay for the prefix Daim in front of my name. Anything but dreams like this! A couple more nightmares like this, and I'll be able to retire, having lost my health in the service of the House! Could these be echoes of the donor's personality and her fear?

Taer often thought about who her donor was. She must have been a strange girl... or woman, used to shooting first, talking later, piloting anything that flies and rolls, and being able to fight very violently.

Probably some kind of Intelligence agent or Navy sabotage team. That's an odd skill set for a bodyguard.

She was distracted from her thoughts about her donor by the growing noise coming from the ajar door of the gymnasium. She was not sure why, but instead of just walking in as she had planned, she crept up to the door very quietly and almost without breathing. And peeked inside with literally half an eye.

At the back of the gymnasium, paneled in light polished wood, inside a wide circle for exercises with bladed weapons with her back to the entrance, was a girl in a milky white fencing jumpsuit. Baroness Rional. She was literally tormenting the fencing droid with ferocity. The noise was caused by hitting the hull of this droid. Why Rionalу? There was no other girl with a figure like that on the ship.

Taer was still contemplating whether to go in or leave Kayrin alone with herself and her incomprehensible problems - when suddenly the baroness kicked the droid away from her with a kick to the body and shouted:

"Stop the program!" And turned towards the entrance.

It became apparent that her face was covered by a solid milky white mask with a black monogram in the center. She pulled the mask off and smiled strangely:

"Well, come in, Taer. What are you standing there for?"

Taer walked in, looking as if she was going to do it anyway, thinking to herself: //Damn! How did she see me?" She was about to sneak out, not that the Baroness's company would be intolerable to her, but she was not in the mood for polite smiles.

"Would you like to warm up with an old friend?" Kayrin asked, nodding towards the racks of weapons and equipment.

"Er, no thanks Kayrin, but I'm not in any shape to be - a little workout on the machines is probably all I can do."

"Yes? And I heard that Lord Cassard's Arm defeated the Arm of Marquess Turang. And that you were involved in that momentous battle. I wanted to learn from that," the Baroness smirked.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding and my mistake," Lord Cassard's Arm replied dryly, then thought for a moment and added with a wicked smile:

"I am very sorry to have interrupted their lordships at such an intimate moment."

Kayrin raised an eyebrow in surprise, then laughed when she realized it had been said seriously:

"Great shadows, Taer, do you really think I would stoop to jealousy?" she wagged her finger.

"Come on, Kayrin, I always thought you were above petty emotions and knew how to lose with dignity," Taer sat down at the trainer.

"What makes you think I've lost? Ah, Sain Lieutenant Diltar?" Kayrin asked, still flippantly, pulling off her gloves and sitting down at a nearby trainer.

"Because when I burst into the bedroom, it was Marquess Turang, not Baroness Rionale, and when one speaks of Lord Cassard's potential bride, the name Valerie, not Kayrin, is heard... That's why I came to this conclusion, Itory Cadet Rionale."

"Flag Captain Rional," Kayrin corrected with a polite smile. "I told you I was going to reinstate myself to the Guard."

"Ah, what an impetuous career!" Taer smirked, lifting the weight with her legs with an effort.

"Well, you know us noble fools, patronage here, relatives there, acquaintances there..." She glanced at Taer. "But something tells me you've got a better career... Oh, First Blade Diltar?"

Rumors are spreading obscenely fast - the Lord only offered me the position of First Blade last night, and early this morning, Baroness is already in the loop. Eavesdropping?

"Why did you decide to come with us on the Voigrom?" Taer hurriedly changed the subject.

"Why not? I've always loved hunting. You know that. And the fact that I decided to go with Alex... well, I'm a bit of a sybarite, and there's no gym on my yacht, for instance."

"This is the first time I've heard of anyone being dissatisfied with the level of comfort of the Silver Arrow."

"Beautiful, isn't she? Admit it, you've got a crush on her too, haven't you?" Kayrin smiled. "I lent her to Ayuni for the time being - she and her brother are planning some big party for the 'youths'. You know how important it is for them to "prove themselves" at that age."`

I sympathize in advance with the poor souls who will be cleaning the boat after a bunch of sixteen-year-olds have had a go at it

Taer pretended to concentrate on the exercise.

"By the way, Taer, would you mind telling me, as an old friend, what exactly is troubling Alex? I'm a little worried about him," Kayrin naturally ignored Taer's "concentration" with an aristocratic nonchalance.

"I have no idea. What makes you think he cares about anything?"

"Well, I am, after all, a member of the Guard, and I can recognize the stella of a heavy-class planetary generator. Then again, there's another escort added besides you... very distinctive looking."

By 'escort of distinctive appearance' she must have meant Lance Dudo Guwar, the only one of the new arrivals Taer had taken with her on the Voigrom. Because there was no point in the others being there. And Dudo wasn't a lance just anywhere. He was a member of a sabotage group in the fleet, and they, too, occasionally have the need to tap into the nets, to break into block-circuits. But Dudo's training, as well as his appearance, was indeed appropriate. And if it came to firing, she was even more confident in him than she was in herself.

"You know, Kay, I think you'd better discuss this with Lord - it would be a violation of my oath," Taer replied coldly, picking up her compensatory belt and heading towards the pool.

Taer entered the pool, tossed the compensator on the nearest sun lounger, and, just as she started to undress, remembered that she hadn't brought a swimming costume - she wasn't expecting to see anyone here this early in the day.

Ah... to hell with everything! she thought angrily and threw off her clothes.

She took a couple of steps to get a running start, pushed off the edge with force, and dove straight in, without a compensator. Her body arched and plunged into the water in the middle of the pool, raising a huge column of spray. In principle, even if her body was perceptibly denser than the water, she could still swim - she just had to work her arms and legs very hard. So after fifteen minutes, Taër climbed to the edge of the pool and sat up, breathing heavily, all her muscles aching pleasantly, the characteristic residual pain that had plagued her after the cramp is gone. She reached up and grabbed one of the nurlong towels that were on all the chaise lounges, folded in neat black triangles.

I'm surprised Kay didn't follow me, Taer thought, wiping herself off. It's not in her character to fall behind so easily.

Usually, if Baroness Rionale noticed that she was annoying her interlocutor, she would only increase the pressure. It was always a favorite pastime of hers to annoy others.

And she was up obscenely early - even during the service, it was rare to see her before eleven o'clock. Probably she didn't sleep at all.

After wiping herself off, Taer tossed the towel aside and settled into a lounge chair, watching the small waterfall on the other side of the pool with thoughtful eyes.

She was torturing the droid like she was taking her breath away. The baroness seemed so pissed off about something that she just wasn't paying attention to me. I wonder, what could have made her so mad?

Actually, Taer had a gut feeling that something wasn't right about Kayrin Rionale - if at first her sweet flirting with Alex could be explained by her desire to marry him (Also, by the way, I don't know why), then now, after the near official announcement of his marriage to the Ruling Lady of House Bentar, it just didn't make sense!

Again, a sudden desire to serve in the Guard again, though she had resigned from the service before she left for Onstum, saying she was bored with it.

The horrendous scandal that broke out in the family did not stop her, and after all, Baroness Rionale is not Allesandro Cassard - she depends on her family for many things."

She hadn't even arrived yet and had already been reinstated to the navy, which she had always disliked and had shown Taer with her navy past in every possible way.

And she was reinstated during the celebrations and immediately promoted to the rank of Flag Captain

There was little surprise in the fact that she had jumped five ranks at once - her family was rich and very influential, and her father was a member of the Privy Council.

But Flag-Captain... It was only now that Taer realized how strange that in itself was. To command a ship? Somebody's been pushing the political levers as hard as they can.

* * *​
 
Chapter 16
Chapter 16

* * *​

The yacht, gently illuminated by the blue glow of the onboard lights, gently approached the Melato House guest station, gradually leveling up and preparing to land.

They left behind a twelve-hour jump to Istal, a meeting with the House Bentar escort, which turned out to be unexpectedly impressive - six fighters and a light corvette-and a four-hour flight from the jump zone to the planet because after a meeting with the captain, and given the difficult navigational situation, the in-system jump had been abandoned. It was unlikely, of course, that something could be on the trajectory that would noticeably damage the yacht, but the captain did not want to embarrass himself in front of the Bentars by crashing into some stray asteroid. Taer was in complete agreement with him on that.

Milord, who had acted like a thirteen-year-old on a free tour of a military museum, had finally settled down and was no longer tantalizing Taer and the captain with endless questions of "What is it?", "How does it work?", "May I...?" and was quiet, literally sticking to the huge panoramic window in the bow. He kept his eyes fixed on the fighter jets circling in a figure-of-eight pattern as they periodically approached the yacht.

After escorting the yacht to the station, the escort fighters bid farewell shook their gravistabilizers, and moved at full speed into the interior of the system, almost instantly transforming into small dimly glowing dots that disappeared a few seconds later. The Corvette, on the other hand, had slowed to a crawl, according to the Tactical Terminal, and had kept well behind the yacht. He must have intended to wait for a landing.

Bloody bastards! Taer looked with admiration at the disappearing fighters.

The lap of honor was performed in defiance of all regulations dangerously close to the yacht, but - impeccably precise, perfect - she never once noticed the characteristic flare and haze that appears when the forcefield is hit.

The triangular silhouettes of the latest Tallan-built Iskra were covered in mounds of blaster ports and launchers. Their charcoal-black hulls were covered in a painting of two golden branches, starting from the middle of the "wings" and joining around the golden cockpit dome, surrounding it in a delicate ligature as if it were a frame.

The black-and-gold machines suddenly leaped out of the void and, with an eerie screech as if someone was scraping glass with a blade, whizzed by the observation deck, covering the large panoramic window entirely for a moment before disappearing into a small, shimmering star. They came so close you could make out the silhouettes of the pilots, hidden beneath the golden veil of the cockpit lantern.

"Impressive!" Alex stood closest to the panoramic window and could see the Sparks almost at arm's length.

Taer didn't answer, shrugging as if to say, we've seen better. She was not proud of her naval pride to admit out loud that the Bentarians, who didn't even have a fleet, were capable of anything impressive.

You have to admit they have at least six very experienced pilots, she added mentally. Well, or the pilot module on the Sparks is something very special.

The Lord turned to her with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face and asked: "Hm... Taer, what was that about?"

"Circle of honor as interpreted by Bentar."

"No, I mean the squealing that was heard as they flew past," he was even more embarrassed.

"Well..." she sighed. "The machines were passing very close, requiring great precision in positioning, so the gravity keel and grav stabilizers were likely to have peak power, and they were coming very close, so it was a bit loud."

Alex made a disgruntled grimace as if he'd eaten something sour:

"Maybe I'm wrong," he began cautiously. "But it seemed to me that in space," he waved his hand towards the panoramic window. "Sounds can't be heard because there's no environment that transmits vibrations..."

Taer smirked it's always nice to be the smartest person in the room and to avoid yelling across the observation deck, she came down from the command gallery and walked over to the lord, and sat down in a nearby chair:

"The point is that we don't hear the sound of a passing fighter, but the resonance of our bio-protection field, which reacts to the radiation from that fighter's engines and generators... and, in general, to all tangible energy sources in the vicinity or directly affecting the ship..."

Taer didn't want to go into the physical stuff, which she had forgotten after her navigator training, so she tried to explain things as simply as possible:

When a bio-protection field comes into contact with an energy source, such as a radiation stream, it resonates, partly absorbing and partly reflecting this energy, thus protecting the ship. And because the structure of the bio-protection field is in direct contact with the intra-ship atmosphere - this resonance causes the sonic vibrations that we hear.

Alex was silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling and digesting what he had heard, then asked again: "Then why can't we hear our engine or the noise of the star in whose light we fly?"

"Because Istal is a very, very expensive yacht!" Taer smiled sadly. "She has a special noise suppression system installed on her. The fighters came very close, and their energetic imprint was very strong - so we heard them. On regular ships, where no such system is installed, you can indeed hear the hum of engines and stabilization systems, and you can also hear the "whisper of the stars" or "starburst" - the bio-protection response to radiation from nearby stars."

It's also stunningly beautiful, she mentally added with a sentimental smile.

"Isn't that disturbing?" Alex watched the expression on Taer's face with interest.

"Nope," she shook her head. "It is said to help - one quickly gets used to it and stops noticing the hum of the engine. Many people even like "stars' whispering". Silence, on the other hand, is a signal that the bio-protection field is overloaded or disabled, which means there is a threat of irradiation or depressurization."

Because of this, those who have been flying for a long time develop a real fear of silence.

"Interesting..." Alex exhaled, staring out the window again, where the Melato House guest station had already changed from a tiny star to an identifiable object.

As they approached, the station grew larger and larger, filling the screen and the portholes of the forward observation deck. His Lordship Lord Allesandro Cassard stared at the approaching station without looking away.

There really is a lot to see, though, Taer grudgingly admitted, catching herself staring at the station as well:

In the cold abyss of space, a huge white castle, built in the classic Melatian style, floated on the green disk of Voigrom, tucked into the green of the gardens. The central dome was slightly pointed and formed a cupola. Luminous windows of light pink crystals, starting from the top and running to the middle of the dome, cut through the structure. It was as if a huge pink flower covered the dome. The building had two wide wings that covered the inner garden and, of course, columns... Classical Melatian architecture - and without columns? There is no such thing!

Four massive columns of light marble with fine pink veins, twined with vines of dark bronze, towered above the castle, ending just above the dome. The tower was crowned by the figures of dragons, patrons of the hunt, spreading their wings and opening their mouths.

The castle and the gardens surrounding it rested on a circular metal base - about three chambers in diameter and about two hundred steps high - which must have been where the technical floors with their support systems were hidden.

Great shadows, how much does it cost? Taer mentally exclaimed

The huge open zone, which a pair of heavy cruisers would have easily entered, required enormous field strength, for the bio-protection and forcefields were the only barrier between the blooming gardens of the station and interstellar space with its void of radiation and fluxes of micrometeorites.

She glanced at the focusing blocks around the perimeter of the disk on which the castle stood. They were clearly not standard - instead of the usual sheaves of needles there was something resembling druses of crystals, and there were many of them. The protection system must have been repeatedly backed up in case the main generator failed.

"I heard the Melatians had something special planned for this Voigrom, but it seems they've managed to exceed even their wildest expectations," Marquis Degrasto's husky voice came from behind her and made Taer wince as she did not see him enter the observation deck.

So good "security specialist". All the hope is in the guidance system!

"The castle and sculptures are stunning!" The marquis continued. "I think the interior decoration will also surprise us. It would be interesting to know the name of the architect..."

"I think our hosts will allow us to do so," said Taer.

The castle is pure posturing. It would be much more interesting to know what company supplied the field generators. It would also be interesting to see the specifications for these generators. However, the owners will certainly not give us such an opportunity.

"I take it that the stations usually look a little different?" Alex wasn't addressing anyone in particular.

"Yes," Taer and the Marquis replied at the same time.

There was an awkward pause, Taer with a look trying to make it clear to the Marquis that she was apologizing and keeping quiet in the face of his experience and age. And the Marquis, also with a look, apologized to Taer and hinted that, of course, he was conceding the right to vote to the lady and so on

The staring game with the Marquis dragged on. so Taer sighed and continued:

"Usually, the stations look much simpler - some chaotic jumble of residential and technical modules. Or a spheroid of some kind, at best decorated with flowers and the logo of the House to which the station belongs."

"So this station is something special?"

"Exactly!" Crebo Degrasto gave a solid nod.

"Your Lordship, station control has given us a vector and cleared us to land. What do you want us to do? - The captain asked tactfully as he came down from the command gallery."

Alex looked questioningly at Taer, who shrugged her shoulders, thinking to herself slyly: No, we'll hang around and admire the station.

"What do you normally do in these cases," Alex replied to the captain. "Go for a landing or something..."

The captain bowed his head and with the words, "Will do, Your Lordship," hurried back to the command gallery.

The yacht, illuminated by flashes of mirrored glare, slowly sailed under the protection of the station's field and, with the solid thud of the traction generators, hovered over the spacious area in front of the main entrance.

The hatch swung open, and Taer immediately jumped down onto the dewy green of the lawn. It was so natural that she didn't even think about what she was doing. Here was the open hatch, here was the ground, her body habitually grouped and jumped, and her hand pressed to her side to hold her missing weapon. The girl took a step to the side to make room for the retractable gangway, and only then did it suddenly dawn on her what had happened:

Great shadows, all protocol screwed! She was mentally horrified. First to go should be Lord Cassard, then me as First Blade of his retinue, then Kayrin, then the Marquis Crebo Degrasto... and then the rest

Damn it! I'm totally screwed!
Taer exclaimed in her mind as she froze beside the gangway.

She put on as blank a face as possible and tried to pretend that everything was going as planned.

The welcoming party, a handsome tall brunette in his forties, also pretended that everything was going according to plan, only the smile on his face became a little more intense. And the face was somehow familiar to Taer - she must have seen it before - but trying to remember the name was to no avail.

One of the lords of the House of Melato?

Meanwhile, seeing Alex and Marquis Degrasto descending the gangway, the welcoming party stepped forward and began a prearranged speech:

"I am pleased to welcome you on behalf of the House of Melato to this Voigrom! Allow me to introduce myself, Lord Asparo Velaske!" with these words, he held out his hand in greeting."

My lord introduced himself as well and then took the greeting man's hand and shook it, just as if two commoners had met. Taer mentally groaned, but it was too late to change anything. One could only hope that the Melatian would not cause a scandal and would prefer not to notice the insult.

Lord Velaske's smile became strained and somewhat bewildered - there was an awkward pause:

"Let's better get into the castle." he finally said, hiding his hands behind his back and taking a step back.

At the castle, the "hospitable" host took his leave quickly, citing business and incoming guests. The steward, a short, dark-skinned, and bald man of indeterminate age, escorted them to their rooms and departed, assuring them that he was ready to fulfill the wishes of his dear guests.

Marquis Degrasto and Baroness Rionale, surrounded by servants, immediately went to their rooms to change while Taer and Alex were left alone in the spacious room.

The room was decorated in the classic Melatian style: long low sofas covered with small silk cushions, dark red velvet rugs embroidered in gold, plenty of draperies, and long narrow windows from ceiling to floor, covered with dark purple curtains with gold trim.

"Dudo, check the rooms," Taer waved her hand towards the bedrooms.

"Yes, Madam Lieutenant!" Dudo muttered and, picking up his bag of equipment, walked out.

"Your Lordship," Taer began as soon as they were alone. "What is acceptable in a meeting of friends, or when dealing with commoners, can be taken as an insult by another lord, especially one from another House..."

"What do you mean?"

"A handshake," she explained. "In terms of accepted protocol, lords from different houses should greet each other differently."

"And how should it be?" Alex got up from the sofa and came closer.

"Like this," she showed him, gripping her arm around his wrist.

"That's original!" Alex smirked. "Well, I'll keep that in mind next time. So, shall we go mingle with the noble public?"

A short servant reported that "most of their lordships gathered in the hunting hall". Taking him along as their guide, Alex and Taer set off in search of "their lordships".

And without waiting for Kayrin! she thought with a slight sneer.

The participants of the Voigrom were just arriving at the castle, so the hunting hall was half-empty - the rare guests were lazily wandering among the stuffed trophies from the previous Voigroms.

"Taer, are we going to hunt something like that?" With a touch of panic in his voice, Alex asked, peering at the stuffed Onyx screamer. The screamer's mouth was open in a soundless roar, showing sharp, needle-like teeth.

"No," Taer shook her head. "The trophy of this hunt is an Oiker. But it's not here," she added, glancing around the display. "Perhaps in another part of the hall..."

"Let's go and look then," Alex glanced absently at the people in front of him.

Densely arranged scarecrows and tall vases of flower bushes lined the narrow, winding paths that converged in small "clearings" with the most imposing of the spoils in the center - around another corner, they came upon a small group of guests gathered around a huge stuffed Platypus. In a corner were tables with refreshments and a few servants, frozen in anticipation of orders.

They were about to pass by with polite smiles when a woman in her thirties, standing among the guests, called out to them:

"Lord Cassard!" She exclaimed as she placed her glass on the tray the servant had so diligently placed and headed toward them. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's a pleasure, too," Alex replied with a casual smile, sending Taer a questioning look at the same time.

She looked intently at the woman who approached, genuinely trying to remember who it was. She was tall with dark brown hair and green eyes, beautiful, though her age was already a little noticeable, and was dressed in a long evening gown of a light green shade, which was a little strange - most of the guests were dressed in various versions of hunting costumes.

I have no idea who that is, Taer thought, at the same time trying to convey that thought to Alex with a look.

"I am so glad you have recovered! You have no idea, your Lordship, how worried we were about you!" The stranger was smiling broadly.

"Thank you for your concern - it's very kind of you. But, you know, I'm sorry to say that I have completely forgotten your name, lady..." The lord held up his hands in guilt.

"Asmi Lertar," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. "A member of Tuskor's board of directors. And only 'honorable,'" she added. "I am not a noblewoman."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, honorable Asmi," the lord cautiously looked at the outstretched hand.

Shake it! Taer tried to show, shifting slightly to the side so her signs wouldn't be visible to the 'honorable' Lertar.

Alex continued to hesitate, probably not knowing exactly how to shake the outstretched hand. Taer shook hands with herself behind Asmi's back, showing the lord the correct way to shake hands.

Alex, seeing the clue, shook the outstretched hand in relief, shaking it vigorously:

"I am very glad, honorable Asmi, very glad. What do you think of this Voigrom?"

"I think everything is just fine!" Asmi smiled back. "Although, admittedly, the invitation was a complete surprise to us."

The Lord replied with an absent-minded smile.

"Tuskor and House Melato have often had misunderstandings in the past," Lertar explained. "I hope that will change."

"Tuskor is something very familiar, but I can't remember what it is. My memory has been failing me a lot since the poisoning," the lord complained.

"Union of Tashida Corporations," Asmi smiled embarrassedly.

As the conversation progressed, Lertar paid the lord unobtrusive compliments and invited him to visit more often at headquarters, "where your lordship is always very welcome".

Corporatrix... thought a bored Taer with a slight squeamishness, saw a 'very important person' and immediately engaged in 'unobtrusive' personal promotion.

After fifteen minutes, the lord finally managed to fend off Asmi Lertar's annoying charm, who finally even tried to stick him with her business card in case "you have any questions about the management of your shareholding in the company".

Though, on the other hand, that's her job, Taer intercepted the card with a cold smile before the lord took it.

Asmi froze with surprised eyes for a moment and then laughed nervously, hiding her hands behind her back:

"Well, it was very nice to see you, Lord Cassard. I wish you a good evening!"

"You too, dear Asmi."

As they stepped back, he turned to Taer:

"What are you up to?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Well, you refused to wear gloves, Your Lordship." Taer pulled out the analyzer as she went and poked the card with it. "Shadows knows what might be on it."

"I hadn't thought of that somehow."

The analyzer found nothing objectionable in the thin gold plate with a monogram of emeralds in the center. But that didn't tell her anything. So Taer slipped the card into her pocket, deciding to activate the suppressor if the lord were to have a conversation with anyone beyond a conversation about the weather.

They wandered around the hunting hall for another ten minutes before finding a stuffed Oiker.

"An imposing beast." Alex quietly assessed, walking around the massive carcass covered in stiff, prickly-looking stubble. "Predator?" He nodded at the two long pale yellow fangs that didn't fit into its mouth.

Taer shook her head in the negative:

"A herbivore. And with its fangs, it tears up the soil and rips the bark off trees. But the animal is aggressive and can trample. Or gouge through with its fangs."

"What do you hunt with?"

"With a hunting blaster. One or two accurate hits may be enough."

"What if I don't hit it?"

"There's me and Dudo for that - we won't miss," Taer assured him.

"Do hunting accidents happen often?"

Taer wanted to tell him that hunting accidents happened often.

First, aristocrats considered it beneath their dignity to hunt non-threatening beasts.

Second, hunting with weapons of primitive races and peoples, such as spears and crossbows, has become increasingly popular. The hunting apologists regarded this as a more honorable and valuable trophy.

Well, there have also been shootouts among hunters who mistook a stray in the nearby bush for a coveted trophy.

Despite this, all attempts to amend the statutes of the Voigrom have met with fierce opposition from traditionalists and hunting enthusiasts, for "what is the point of hunting if the danger does not make your blood boil!"

The saying "If you want a friend dead, invite him to a Voigrom" was still true.

But her story was interrupted midway by the appearance of a young couple, the gentleman, judging by his broad reddish-gold belt, was Bentar, but his companion was flaunting a black and scarlet fringed ribbon tied on the bend of a curlicker's arm. This traditionalism in dress and the swords on his belt indicated that two 'blades of honor' were approaching them.

Taer moved forward just in case - the Blades of Honour were an aggressive people and, given his reputation, not friendly with Lord Cassard, to put it mildly.

As the Blades approached, Taer was surprised to recognize the Bentarrian as Lord Brenor Lister, who had been the second in the Lord's failed duel. The Bentar man's companion also needed no introduction for anyone who follows the most famous Blades of Honour.

Lady Dahlia Amita was the daughter of a very successful banker. So, successful, in fact, that he was able to buy the name and title of the lord from the house of Kerlith. The practice of selling titles was accepted only in that house, but even there, it caused a lot of controversies. What to say about the others. Such "bought" nobles met with strong resistance from aristocratic society and were not respected, and the Blades of Honour were despised altogether.

One of the few exceptions was Lady Dahlia, who, despite (or perhaps because of) her origins, took the code of nobility's honor remarkably literally. Any hint that questioned her dignity was met with a challenge to a duel.

By the age of twenty-two, she had over thirty duels under her belt, five of which ended in the death of her opponent and over ten emergency operations that brought Dahlia back from beyond the edge of the Bright Flame. In other words, the girl fit in perfectly in the society of the Blades of Honour - after all, 'it's not origin that counts, it's the nobility of spirit'. Isn't it?

The best companion for Lord Brenor... Taer was already regretting her decision not to wear her personal shields for the time being, to leave the maximum resource for the hunt.

The pair of Blades of Honour approached Lord Cassard, and Taer saw a thin scar streaming down Dahlia's face. Dissecting her right eyebrow, it disappeared, reappearing on her cheek just below her eye and descending lower before finally breaking off at her cheekbone. It looked like the mark of some recent duel - the last time Taer had seen her, about a year ago, there had been nothing like it.

Poseur! Taer thought with irritation. I bet she left the scar for beauty's sake.

The scar, indeed, did not spoil Dahlia in the slightest. On the contrary, it added mystery, highlighted the perfect shape of her face, and gave strength to the gaze of her light brown, almost yellow lynx eyes.

"Lord Cassard, I am glad to see you!" Brenor Lister exclaimed, smiling happily.

"I'm very glad to see you too, Lord Brenor!"

"I didn't expect to see you here - I thought you weren't much of a hunter. By the way, I'd like you to meet Lady Dahlia Amita! Lord Allesandro Cassard. I must tell you, Lady Dahlia, contrary to all the rumors, Lord Cassard is a man of honor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Cassard. I'm sorry I trusted the rumors too much before. My apologies."

"Oh, Lady Dahlia, you have nothing to apologize for! I'm very pleased to meet you." Alex looked at Dahlia with interest.

Lord and Dalia shot each other's eyes curiously for a while.

"I must confess that you have made me a little sad, Lord Cassard!" Lord Brenor put on an ostentatious look of sadness.

"What happened?" the lord was genuinely surprised.

"I remember you said you'd stop by sometime before the duel to give me some blaster lessons. You never came to see me."

It was Taer's turn to be genuinely surprised

Not to mention the fact that the lord is simply an abominable shot, it's strange that Brenor Lister would need anyone's shooting lessons at all.

Although he was known primarily as a superb swordsman, he demonstrated equally superb marksmanship in blaster duels.

It's kind of weird.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Brenor!" Alex's hands threw up his hands with a sorrowful expression. "The worries of this ridiculous Consulat trial have taken over me entirely..."

In the course of further conversation, Alex assured Lord Brenor that he would certainly drop in on him as soon as business permitted and invited him to "visit on occasion".

Lord Cassard's and Lord Lister's conversations were illuminated by the spectacular appearance of Kayrin, who immediately joined in the conversation, lighting up those around her with benevolent smiles and no sign of displeasure at being 'dumped'. All four of them continued to chat vigorously under the polite silence of Taer.

They talked for about an hour, wandering leisurely around the hall, discussing the trophies on display until their conversation was interrupted by a very courteous servant of the House of Melato. The short and swarthy servant bowing incessantly, ushered the noble lords into the main refectory, where a feast had already begun on the occasion of the beginning of the Voigrom. At the feast, the conversation was naturally interrupted as the "talkers" were seated rather far apart Lord Cassard, as a member of one of the noblest and oldest families, sat practically at the head of the table, as did his "blade", while Lady Dahlia and Lord Brenor sat somewhere nearer the middle. Baroness Rionale sat just three seats away.

All the more so when the Peltars were caught between them, who were clearly not delighted with such surroundings.

* * *​

So, that's who the Imperials have claimed the Exclusive Patrol Zone for. Taer saw whoever was sitting at the head of the table.

At the head of the table, with her head propped on the right of precedence and bored, sat the reason for such unceremonious behavior of the imperial security - Baroness Faith Istar. To her right, her companion, the Stack-Captain of the Security Service, was seated in her dress uniform and was telling the baroness something, but the latter did not even pretend to listen.

Lady Faith stared into space, tracing her finger thoughtfully over the edge of her plate. From time to time, she took a larger piece and tossed it to the left without looking. The piece, having made a high arc over the table and leaving a trail of sauce drops on the tablecloth, disappeared into the teeth of the baroness's squire.

The seat to the left of the squire was empty, and the representative of House Rien, seated a little farther away, squinted warily and flinched a little every time the swirla slammed shut with a loud clang, bite another piece. And House Rien's representative was understandable... More than that, her composure was enviable!

"What's that beast across the hall?" Alex whispered, leaning over to Taer, who was poking at the dishes with her analyzer as she tried not to draw attention.

"Swirlla," she whispered. "It's a very dangerous and aggressive creature."

"Then what is it doing here?"

"This is the squire of Baroness Istar and the First Blade of her domain," Taer replied with a barely perceptible shrug. "Not giving him a seat at the table would be a terrible insult. Both to the Baroness and to our entire House."

I can imagine the Melatians agonizing over how to place such a squire, Taer thought with a slight gloat. Even went out of their way to break protocol by placing the squire on their left side. And rightly so - I'd be mad to have that thing near the lord. Though, swirl can easily jump across the table.

"Can an animal be a squire?" Alex asked in surprise, squinting at the object of the discussion.

At this point, Swirlla was gnawing on a large piece, grasping it with her upper paws, grunting happily. She was scratching her belly covered in long blond fur with her lower pair, her scarlet cloak tucked underneath.

"Swirlla is not an animal... I mean an animal... I mean..." Taer sighed, trying to find the words. "As far as I remember, the most intelligent Swirlas are at the developmental level of a six-year-old child - not enough to recognize them as an intelligent race. But in Baroness Istar's time, things were somewhat different, and anyone could be appointed a squire as long as they could perform the duties. Even a non-human..."

"That's not the way it is now," she added.

"Then one more question," Alex whispered even more quietly. "Why is the red-haired girl in the green camisole sitting on the left looking at me so strangely?"

"Lady Nadina Pell of House Peltar - they hate Fyron and the Cassard family especially."

"I have amazing neighbors," Alex muttered, grabbing his glass from the table and leaning back in his chair.

While Taer was answering Alex's questions, the other guests of the Voigrom had time to gather around the table, and a succession of welcoming toasts began.

The first to speak as 'host' was Lord Asparo Velaske, the representative of House Melato. He welcomed everyone in the name of his House, expressed his joy at the presence of the Peltars, and wished everyone good luck in tomorrow's hunt. The oldest representative of the noblest family, who sat at the head of the table, was to make a toast next. All eyes turned to Baroness Istar:

"It's so dull here..." she sighed, absently scratching her squire.

Swirlla purred softly, her ears and large fluffy tail twitching slightly - probably from pleasure. Lady Faith stood up from the table, tall as she was, and looked around the room for a long, appraising look:

"There's no one to punch in the face," she concluded frustratedly. "Hopefully, tomorrow will be more fun."

The SS officer accompanying her tried to say something, but Lady Faith, paying no attention to him, headed for the exit from the hall. Stack Captain, with a slightly confused look, shook his hands, pretended to smile apologetically, and hurried after his ward.

Well, one less potential problem, Taer thought contentedly. Two even, if you count the crazy girl and her squire as two separate problems.

"It seems to be a good tradition," Alex remarked with a smile in the ensuing silence. "As long as I've seen her, Baroness Istar has been thrilling the noble public, and the public is in awe. Maybe that's why they invite her? To add spice to the dullness of everyday life?"

"I'm afraid it's a little too spicy for our mundane days, Lord Cassard," Lady Nadine Pell smiled thinly. "But since it's seasoned for us, the Emperor..." she waved her fork like a magic wand and tipped a small piece of meat into her mouth. "Everyone will eat it up without a trace. With smiles..." she added, showing a few more teeth than necessary for a polite smile.

"As long as the body doesn't reject..." Alex sighed and leaned towards Taer, whispering:

"What's so dangerous about them?" He nodded at Lady Faith's squire as they moved away.

Swirla walked funnily - walking upright was clearly uncomfortable for her, so she would occasionally drop down on all six paws to catch up.

"They have a different perception of time," Taer replied, surprised herself, Why would I think that? What kind of time?

Why she said that was unclear to her...

"I mean, they've got mad reactions and agility," she explained, seeing Alex's eyebrows rise in surprise. "And they can sense danger, they say, just like the Adepts. And if they're particularly clever, they can be trained to use a blaster, as they have good paws for that. They are also fearless, aggressive, and incredibly loyal to their handlers."

"It's a useful little beast, isn't it?" Alex concluded.

Lady Faith and her companions departed. With their departure, the silence that had hung there was replaced by chatter. They tried to act casual and pretend that nothing had happened, but the official part of the "feast to commemorate the beginning of the Voigrom" was uneventful.

At the end of the feast, the company reunited and continued their conversation. Taer was diplomatically silent, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Lord Lister suggested going to a local shooting range where Alex could demonstrate his shooting skills. The suggestion was enthusiastically supported by Kayrin and Lady Dahlia. There, to the delighted smiles of Baroness Rional, and the surprise of Taer, her lord demonstrated a quite passable, even good, blaster fire. After shooting for about an hour, they went to the main hall and from there, at Kayrin's suggestion, to the games room, where they were stuck for a long time.

Taer did not take part in the game, sitting comfortably on the sofa behind the gaming table. The stakes were "friendly" - five hundred denarii per "round". So the two Blades of Honor were out of the game rather quickly, a wise move on their part - this was never a lavish audience, and members of the clan were usually reluctant to sponsor such scandalous offspring.

Amid the game, a young girl in a light brown hunter's suit of soft suede, with large emeralds shining on the collar and cuffs, surrounded by intricate embroidery of red gold, entered the hall.

There's our 'rebel'! Taer squinted unpleasantly as she noticed her entry.

Not that she had any personal grievances against the rebels - Taer was far removed from intra-imperial politics - but the thought of WHAT the SS or Imperial Intelligence would do if they found out about the lord's contacts with the Anti-Imperial Alliance gave her goosebumps.

The Lord of the Empire is involved in a conspiracy! Yes, by cracking such a high-profile case, you can make a career and rise very high - the noise will clearly reach even the Emperor!

What's more, this could all have been a provocation. Or an attempt by the rebels to take advantage of the Lord's resources and then blackmail him. For that matter, the attitude of the Lord - and of Lady Liora - was sharply negative.

Alex noticed her as well, they exchanged meaningful glances, and Liora nodded faintly. She glanced around the room and, finding Taer, whispered something to her attendant with her hand.

It's not going to end well!

Taer stared at Liora's escort, who was walking towards her with a brisk, springy stride. A dark-haired man of about thirty-five, with a pleasant, even handsome, face with sharp features and clear green eyes. He was dressed in a very simple light green hunting costume, reminiscent of the uniform for planetary operations.

"My mistress asks me to give this to your master," the attendant said as he handed Taer an envelope sealed with the blue wax seal bearing the Countess of Wistrile's monogram."

One of their enforcers, Taer accepted the envelope with as cold a smile as she could muster. Called the Countess 'mistress' and the lord 'master,' as if I were a servant. I would have killed him!

"You can go, I'll pass it on."

She waited until the attendant stepped away, tore the envelope open at the edge, then pushed the analyzer in, pressing it hard into the surface of the letter. A yellow light flickered on the handle.

"Well, at least I won't be poisoned," Taer grinned mentally as she opened the envelope and read the message quickly:

...I hope to meet you at the earliest opportunity. I look forward to it. Kisses, Liora...

There was nothing criminal in the letter, so Taer carefully folded it so that it would fit easily in the palm of her hand and headed toward the players.

"A letter for you, Your Grace," she whispered, coming up behind him and leaning over Alex while placing the folded letter in his palm. The Lord nodded at her and quickly flicked the message across his eyes, keeping it out of sight of the others playing. After he read it, he gave Liora a faint nod and continued with the game.

Having delivered the envelope, Taer returned to her beloved sofa and summoned the "Lance":

"Have you finished yet? I might need your help."

"Yes," Dudo muttered. "Found something interesting..."

"What do you find? OK, you can tell me all about it later. Now, grab an infobox, a linear jammer, and a couple of suppressors, and head for the game room."

"Where is it?"

"Take one of the Melatian servants with you as an escort - they are always gathering near the guest chambers, so you won't have to look for them."

About ten minutes later, Dudo appeared at the entrance to the games hall in the company of a short, dark-haired servant in full dress - a white livery with a scarlet Cassard branch at the heart and two cords at the shoulder, white and red with lace. The tunic he was to wear as a Lord's warder was not yet available to Dudo, and Taer was obviously the wrong size. He was clutching two enormous chevrette trunks, and was, to put it mildly, drawing attention to himself.

Taer made fearful eyes and gestured for him to leave everything in the corridor and walk towards her.

A little more in the same vein, and anyone who wasn't interested in who Lord Cassard is dating will become very interested.

"So," Taer began in a low voice as Dudo approached her. "First, take this and stick it in the infoblock, then we'll check," Taer said as she slipped the "lance" a thin gold card of "respected" Asmi Lertar.

"Second," she continued, waiting for Dudo to slip the card into his pocket, "Their Lordship wishes to meet with a lady, and our job is to ensure the security and privacy of that meeting. So now you grab the equipment and move to the lady's quarters. You tell them you are a member of Lord Cassard's retinue and would like to check the room. If they agree, fine, check everything there and put up suppressors. If not, then - and shadows with them! - Prepare a line jammer - we'll turn it on when the lord gets in."

"The walls are thick," Dudo disagreed. "And it looks like fibersteel in the core, and there are a lot of energy circuits around - there might not be enough power..."

"You seem to have taken amplifiers - plug them in. If one is not enough, connect more."

"I did," he nodded. "But with the amps, they'd knock out everything in there - maybe even the lights - and there might be a glitch to the neighboring rooms."

"Let it be. I don't think they'll really need the lights, and if there are any complaints from neighbors, we'll politely apologize. Any questions?" Taer jabbed a finger at Dudo's chest.

"Where is this lady's room?"

In addition to the fervent lines in the letter given by Lady Liora's escort, there was also a copy of a guest pamphlet that showed how to reach the rooms provided to Countess Wistrile. It was the contents of this pamphlet that Taer recounted to the "lance". After listening to the explanation, Dudo was about to leave, but she stopped him:

"Wait, you said you found something interesting."

"Yep," smirked the lance. "Marks from bugs.".

"What? And you didn't say anything! What kind of bugs, exactly?"

"The traces, not the bugs themselves - they used to be there permanently, and then someone took them off. And apparently recently."

"Maybe it's to make us relax. Have you checked everything in there?"

Dudo sighed heavily, raising his eyes to the ceiling:

"Look, what do you take me for? Of course, I checked after I found the footprints. Checked again - literally looked all over the place."

"OK, then the shadows are with them!"

The hosts must have had fun peeping, and before the guests from the other Houses arrived they took everything down so there wouldn't be a scandal...

"Go get the amplifiers, then go to the lady's rooms, and I'll come with the lord."

The lord played to the end of the round, which took another twenty minutes, laid out the loss, and quickly slipped out of the games room, leaving Kayrin to "finish the game". Accompanied by Taer, he walked quickly to the rendezvous with the anti-Imperialists.

"Alex, are you sure about this meeting?" Taer caught up with the lord, her face expressing clear doubt as to the wisdom of such an undertaking. "It could cause huge problems. (Huge, if the SS or Imperial Intelligence finds out, and for everyone from the ruling lord to me.) And the benefits are questionable."

"I'm not so sure." He snapped back, not slowing down. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"Well, we could..." Taer paused and sighed heavily. "I don't know. But I've got a bad feeling about this, and our lance found traces of surveillance devices in the room."

"You mean our rooms are being watched?"

"Not anymore. Used to be monitored, but they took it off recently. Shortly before we arrived. But that in itself makes me nervous. Maybe it's just ours..." she held Alex by the sleeve and whispered in his ear. "Maybe it's not in Lady Wistrelle's. And only the shadows know what she's going to talk about."

"I think I have this for just such an occasion..." Alex demonstrated the suppressor pendant and moved on.

"A suppressor is not a shortcut to ascension..." she grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't rely too much on suppressors. There are means to bypass them...," explained the 'specialist'.

"What's the point of having them, then? If they can be bypassed?"

"They help against most surveillance, but there are rumors..." Taer made an indefinite gesture with her hand. "That the Imperials have the means to bypass them."

"Let's hope such talented guys aren't interested in me."

Taer waved her hand and remained silent, though her heart was filled with all sorts of things, mostly foul language, about people who pry into things they shouldn't be prying into. And dragging others along with them.

Soon they arrived at the rooms allocated to Countess Wistrile. In front of the entrance, leaning absently against the wall, Dudo was waiting for them. Two large cases of equipment were huddled at his feet, while across the hall in a brown and blue livery (Must be Countess Wistrile's colors... Is she an Imperial noble?), leaning against the door with an equally absent look, was a gnarm bored.

Or not bored? Taer was unfamiliar with the race and could not claim that the gnarm's face expressed exactly boredom.

The Lance in Lord Cassard's arm and the servant in Countess Wistrile's retinue was staring at the ceiling, watching the mural where two dragons - a white dragon and a blue one - wrestled to death.

How symbolic... grinned Taer.

As they approached, Dudo pulled away from the wall and, catching Taer's gaze, pointed to the door and winked at her, saying, It's all right.

Meanwhile, on seeing the lord, the gnarm pulled out his communicator and hissed something into the receiver - he must have warned those inside.

"Are you sure you want to go there alone? " Taer squinted incredulously at the gnarm.

Alex nodded silently and put a neutral smile on his face.

As Taer and Alex approached closer, the gnarm bowed awkwardly and opened the door, revealing to all interested glances the interior of Countess Wistrile's rooms and the Countess herself.

The room was filled with the colors of autumn: from the rich ochre upholstery of the small sofas with dark red cushions to the burnt-orange color of the carpets that covered the walls and, of course, the gold embroidery. The Countess was in a tight, bright red evening gown, clutching a wine glass in her left hand. Lady Liora's face wore rather bright and, from Taer's point of view, not very successful make-up

"Allesandro, I've been waiting!" Liora sighed languidly as she embraced the lord.

"We'll be waiting for you here, Your Lordship," Taer officially announced.

No matter how you paint a chicken, you won't get an eagle.

The false mistress - Liora - could not stand in Taer's eyes any comparison with the real mistress - Isalaya.

As the door closed behind the lord, Taer leaned against the wall beside Dudo, listening warily to the sounds coming from Countess Wistrile's rooms. Nothing suspicious had been heard so far.

"Has the linear jammer been set up?" she whispered, keeping her eyes on the closed door.

By the door, leaning against the jamb, the gnarm bored with the same unconcerned look.

"No," Dudo whispered back. "It's no use - there are five rooms, and the walls are thick. It's not clear where they'll be. I put the suppressors in there."

"Did they let you check the rooms?" Taer clarified.

"They did. They put one on me, but I was allowed to check. I did not find anything strange, but there was no time to check very carefully."

"Are you sure the suppressors are working? Maybe they've been turned off?"

Lance snorted and, taking a small infoblock from the pocket of his snow-white trousers, proudly showed it to Taer - a blizzard of interference shone on the display that was displayed.

"I have a narrow-focus scanner in my case," he explained. "It's a weak one... But it doesn't matter - if the interference disappears, it means the suppressor is off. I look at it from time to time..."

"Well done," praised Taer and stared at the door again.

There was a long wait for the meeting to end, and the lingering feeling that it was not going to end well was only getting worse.

"A suspicious countess..." Dudo said with a knowing look, snapping Taer out of her troubled thoughts with a loud whisper. "The two of them are so..." he impressed the utmost arrogance into his expression and turned his nose up at her. "And they're still trying to grasp the hilt of their swords with their right hands like the Carpathians. The other two were strange, not exactly fighters or servants. They look too sloppy. Maybe Lance and this "servant" gnarm. This is nonsense: a gnarm is a servant. He's got tattoo marks on his face. I know about that sort of thing - we used to have a lot of them in Naimo. Muzzle tattoos made by tash-pee cartel fighters."

"Won't he hear?" Taer pointed to the gnarm with her eyes.

"Nah, the hearing's not their strongest trait... Anyway, that's my point... Their Lordship shouldn't have gone in there alone, and then there's five of them and two of us. That's all I brought with me..." he pointed to the holster of the blaster on Taer's belt. "If I'd known I'd be part of Arm. I would have brought other toys."

"A hand-held stun gun wouldn't be a bad thing either..." suggested Taer.

"Nah, gnarms don't paralyze well - so put it on 'combat' right away," advised the Lance. "Better a shock grenade. Or better yet, two."

"What are you, stupid? What about the lord? He's inside too!"

"What's wrong with that? The sooner we get them out of action, the safer he'll be. So what if he's concussed, but he's alive, and his eyes..." He stopped, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling, then covered them and rubbed them lightly with his left hand. "Well, in a couple of days, if all is well, will recover... I have recovered."

"Screw you with ideas like that!" Taer said with a disgruntled look. "You could end up destroying a guarded object without any help from outside. If you need to get everyone out of action quickly, I'd take...."

Anyway, the twenty-two minutes it took for the lord to meet Lady Liora, the "security specialist" and the "lance" from Lord Cassard's Arm spent passionately discussing in loud whispers exactly how and with what they would break into Countess Wistrile's rooms. In the end, the discussion came down to the fact that the competent parties (Taer and Dudo) agreed: it would be optimal to have an eight-man team in assault suits and a group with emergency medical equipment nearby. But when the door to Lady Liora's chambers opened, Lord Cassard was greeted only by Taer and Dudo, armed with a blaster. One for two.

Lord Cassard was gloomy and thoughtful. Without saying anything, he waved his hand in the direction of the rooms allotted to them and walked briskly in that direction.

"Has something gone wrong?" Taer cautiously inquired as they moved a respectful distance away from Lady Liora's rooms.

"I didn't get everything I hoped for, but I'm not happy with what I have," he added, seeing the silent question in Taer's eyes. "I'll explain when we get there."

When they were alone, the lord tossed her the info stick he had removed from his pocket and flopped down on the sofa:

Take a look, and we'll discuss it later.

Taer caught the stick and, retrieving her Emerald from her belongings (the suitcases were still standing in the center of the room, as she had no time to attend to them and the servants of the House of Melato were forbidden to enter the rooms allocated to Lord Cassard), launched a view of the contents.

It was a visual recording - filmed from above, from the ceiling.

A small, darkened room, a round table, and six people at the table. The faces were hard to see, especially as the picture occasionally flickered and the sounds were distorted - the suppressor in the center of the table was clearly working, but judging by the fact that you could make out what was going on, the method of bypassing the suppressors was not a myth at all.

Or the recording device is shielded by a layer of fibersteel a couple of palms thick.

"Frankly, comrades, our partners are very disappointed in these blunders with Cassard," the face was so darkened that Taer could not make it out, and the voice was harsh with some rattling notes, indicating the age of the speaker.

Judging by the tone, the speaker was VERY unhappy:

"The other phases undertaken by our partners are progressing as planned, and Lord Cassard is still alive!" Here the speaker practically turned to shout. "The whole operation could be without cover and fail!"

"But, sir, he was just lucky the first time, and the second attempt was prepared in a terrible hurry; it won't happen again, I'm sure!" A dark-haired, bearded man in his forties, wearing a leather jacket with the emblem of the miners' guild, objected.

"I should very much hope so, Grom," the old man's words had a decidedly sarcastic tone to them. "With us already ten days behind, we have one last try. I really hope no one screws up this time. If we FAIL AGAIN, Cassard will be taken over by the Lord's men so we can concentrate on our main task..."

The recording was interrupted further on. Taer took the stick out of the infoblock and threw it back to Alex:

"I think it's staged," she grimaced. "And a rather inept one at that. For three hundred thousand denarii, they could have made an effort."

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Liora claims that within a Voigrom, she will have information about who exactly is behind the attempts on my life."

"Why didn't she tell you right away? Does she want more money?"

"I don't know. According to her, the cell that monitors one of the PVD leaders reports directly to the Centre over Liora's head. And they're running some kind of an operation of their own. That's why we get the materials secondarily. She's been told that the liaison who's supposed to hand over the evidence materials will contact her during the Voigrom. So it's someone from the guests, but so far, no one has contacted Liora. However, the Voigrom will still last for three days, so there is time..."

Taer said nothing, only looked at Alex questioningly.

They just want money and are willing to tell you anything to get it.

The lord smiled sadly in reply: "I understand your doubts, Taer. I have similar doubts as well. But you must agree the loss of three hundred thousand danarii is not fatal. But if this recording is true, it means they will try to kill me again soon, and they will try again and again. Because they really need my death to cover up some operation. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

Alex stood up and headed towards the bar.

"Your Lordship..." Taer held out with an accusing tone. "You could have told me to call a droid, or I could have done it myself."

"Come on, don't be silly. It's not hard for me." He brushed it off. "And I thought we'd agreed on "lordship." You want anything?"

Something to clear my mind would be nice.

"A tincture of Tarija and some ice would be nice."

"Tarij? What is it?"

"Such a square bottle..." Taer began, then, with a sigh, got up from her chair and headed for the bar as well.

"This is the Tarij." She poured the emerald liquid into her glass and threw ice in it.

"Hmm, smells good..." Alex assessed, sniffing. "What is it?"

"An extract of the root of a particular plant. It grows here in Voigrom, by the way. Usually used in cocktails, but it's also very good on its own and clears your mind perfectly. Will you try it?"

He looked at the glass with mild doubt, then waved his hand - "pour!"

"So, what are your thoughts? Who would need to kill me to - cover an operation?" Alex asked as they got comfortable in their chairs again.

She looked up and wondered... Then she sighed heavily and turned to Alex; there was nothing else to think of:

"I don't know. I'm not a politician. Maybe they want to use the rancor among relatives over inheritance? But what good would that do them?"

"I couldn't think of anything else either. Is there someone in my family so influential that it makes sense for them to be distracted by such an event?"

"The Rionale clan?"

"Kayrin?" Alex wondered.

"Not Kayrin, but the entire Ryonale clan. They are one of the most influential clans, they are quite powerful, and they have a strong 'Arm', her father is a member of the Privy Council from their domain."

"And who benefits from the Rionale family being distracted by the division of my inheritance?"

Taer silently spread her hands and offered:

"Why don't we ask an expert? Marquis Crébo Degrasto teaches in the Department of Geopolitics and Sectoral History after all."

Alex pointed a finger at Taer and winked:

"Great idea, Guardsman! What would I do without you? Let's go find the Marquis!"

You'd be gone to all the shadows. And anyway, appreciate me!

Marquis Degrasto could only be found after Taer had communicated with his servants - he was in one of the inner gardens, chatting passionately with a man who was not young but rather old. Apparently, a Tallana.

"О! Lord Cassard!" exclaimed the Marquis. "We were just talking about you! I present the Dean of the University of Tallana, the good Fayyor Takkar," he said. "And this, my colleague, is the lovely Mistress Taer Diltar, First Blade of the Arm of Lord Cassard."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," bowed Professor Takkar slightly.

"Likewise." Alex smiled, and Taer gave a polite nod. "We were just looking for you, Marquis, on a professional matter."

"Yes?" Crebo was genuinely surprised. "How interesting. What is it?"

"We had a theoretical argument on a historical topic and needed an expert opinion. Who do you think would have been most affected if I had been poisoned?"

"Well, that would be a nightmare, Lord Cassard!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Absolutely everyone could have been affected! It could come to war between the families within our house! So, until you marry or better until you have an heir don't you dare die!" He winked and jokingly wagged his finger at the lord.

"Are you sure that money, even a lot of it, can start something like this?" Alex asked incredulously.

"So it's not about money at all, Lord Cassard," the Marquis assured him. "It's the fact that all the lan-titles are free in your domain, and there are plenty of them."

Right - the land of lords! I'm such an idiot! I should have been better at lectures on recent history!

"Lan-titles?" the lord interjected.

"Well, yes, the lan-titles, the possession lands, that is, the lands that give the right to a name and..."

"Ah, there you are, and I'd lost you all," the Marquis Degrasto was interrupted by a Kayrin who appeared.

"Meet Lady Kayrin Baroness Rionale, Professor at the University of Tallana, the esteemed Fayyor Takkar."

Kayrin smiled charmingly: "I seem to have interrupted you Marquis, forgive me, and please continue..."

"Well, Kayrin, can you interrupt..." the Marquis began, but then he seemed curious and decided to return to the question. "Let me explain with an example. The lovely Kayrin, as you all know, is a baroness, as are her mother and father. Baroness, as I recall, you also have a younger brother and sister. What are their titles?"

"They have been elevated to the count's dignity," the baroness shrugged.

"And why?" asked Marquis Degrasto a leading question.

"It's obvious - our clan no longer had the free lan-titles of baronial dignity," Kayrin replied and looked at those around her with interest. "And what prompted this strange question?"

"I was simply trying to explain, by way of example, what would cause a hypothetical war between the Clans in the event of the equally hypothetical - heaven forbid! - Lord Cassard's death by poison," Marquis explained.

"Thank you, Marquis. It all makes sense even to me now," Alex smiled. "No longer daring to disturb your conversation..." with these words, the lord politely said goodbye to the professors, who immediately returned to their conversation.

"Alex, sweetie, is something wrong?" Kayrin asked excitedly as they stepped away from the engrossed conversation between the learned husbands.

"No, it's fine!" Alex assured her.

But it seemed that his gloomy mood, which had become even darker after his conversation with Marquis Degrasto, had not escaped Baroness Rionale. She held the lord's hand, paused, and, taking his palms in hers, looked at him with a look of dismay:

"You've been a bit gloomy lately, these strange questions about your death, the planetary generator in your castle. I'm starting to worry about you," she pressed his hand to her chest and asked softly. "What's wrong, Alex? Is someone threatening you?"

What a... @%$! Taer thought dumbfoundedly as she watched the scene. The way she pressed his hand! As if she'd spent two years taking acting lessons at Court. She could be in a soap opera right now!

"Let's just say, Kay..." Alex seemed a little taken aback by the Baroness' impetuousness. "I have some problems, but I think I can manage."

"Why don't you tell me more about it?" she suggested, pointing her eyes towards the guest rooms. "Perhaps I could be of some help. Or maybe not me, but my family. We're not exactly distant relatives, after all. Blood helps blood, fire helps fire," she added with a smile.

"Let's talk about it later, like tomorrow. This isn't the time or place for that kind of talk," Alex lowered his voice confidentially. "You're probably not going to be able to help me right now, anyway."

To Taer's surprise, Kayrin, who knew how to be more annoying than a dozen pearl wasps, didn't push. She smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders:

"I'll take you up on that - tomorrow is tomorrow, after the hunt."

She did not bring it up once for the rest of the evening, trying whenever she could to cheer the lord up and distract him from his sad thoughts. She did it so sincerely and sweetly that Taer had her doubts.

Wasn't she really worried about him? After all, family, and shared childhood memories

But the thought was so contrary to her entire experience with Kayrin that Taer preferred to see it as a subtle game.

* * *​
 
Chapter 17
Chapter 17

* * *​

"Your Lordship!" A short, dark-skinned servant in white overalls bowed to the lord and looked up as he waited for him to pay attention. "We are approaching your position. Do you have any requests for a landing site?"

"No, as long as it's not in the lake." Alex smiled and leaned back against the railing of the platform.

The open circular platform glided as a thin, silvery disc over the purple-reddish sea of Voigrom's jungle. Below, emerald patches of clearing and small lakes, covered in a shimmering ripple of glare, flashed intermittently. The melodic pulsing hum of the platform's traction generators startled the scarlet creatures as their swarms rose in bloody clouds into the sky, leaving a melting scarlet trail behind the flying platform.

Baroness Rionale, dressed in a stylish hunting costume of light red leather adorned with large black crystal, finally broke the silence that reigned by this side:

"I love Voigrom! Especially this continent - it's so beautiful here," she fixed her disheveled wind-blown hair and gave Alex a charming smile.

"Yes, it's very beautiful!" He sincerely appreciated both the view and the smile. "But how to look for Oikers in such thickets, I have no idea."

"Come on, they're big, and when they go through the jungle, there's such a rattle..."

The platform sprang out into the open and hovered in a wide semi-circle on the ground. A part of the side went down into a wide gangway.

"Their Lordship Lord Cassard's number!" The usher proclaimed and bowed, making an inviting hand gesture towards the dais.

Taer unlocked the safety of her hunting rifle and, fixing the white shoulder pad with the scarlet griffin was the first to step onto the green ground. The thick layer of moss softly sprang to take her weight, and small puddles of brownish water appeared around her feet.

"It's a bit wet," Dudo looked suspiciously at the bump he had made under his boot.

The hunt began at noon station time, but it was still early morning in the hunting area of Voigrom. The foliage, illuminated by the dawn sun, glowed red, and the dense moss carpeting the ground was steaming with moisture. The fog clung to the ashy gray branches of the trees in whitish wisps and rose in a solid wall over the still surface of the small lakes.

Imagine what will happen if it starts to rain.

"Yes, indeed, it's a bit wet," the Lord got off last.

"Good luck, Alex!" Baroness Rionale shouted from the platform as it began to slowly take off. "I'll bet my Oiker will double..." her last words were drowned out by the melodious hum of the traction generators gaining power.

The silver disc of the platform tilted slightly, took to the right, and drifted off towards the sunrise, towards the rest of the numbers.

"Shall we look for the Oikers?" Taer glanced at the platform and made sure it was out of sight. "Or..." she patted her pocket meaningfully.

In her pocket was an info stick obtained from Lady Liora's attendant during the loading onto the platforms. And, as they call it, "burned the hands" - there was supposed to be a video on the stick with information about who exactly wanted to kill the lord. But watching the footage right there on the platform, surrounded by guests?

"I think we can..."

A loud low roar from somewhere above drowned out Alex's words. The coal-black machine, with its wide-spread, triangular stabilizer wings, looking like a dagger with a wide diamond-shaped handguard from below, flew over the treetops and disappeared, heading somewhere to the north.

"Prism-E," commented Dudo. "The Imperials are vigilant."

"I guess we can at least pretend we're looking for an Oiker." Alex repeated, tearing his gaze away from the fighter and gripping his hunting long-barreled rifle. "And, Dudo, you brought the infoblock with you, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"As I understand it, the Oikers are grazing at this time, eating roots in shallow water..."

Taer waved her hand toward the gleaming lake in the dawn's light and froze - the still water swelled up to form a small hill in the middle of the lake and, a moment later, exploded into a huge splashing fountain, spitting the air out of a small aerial vehicle.

Taer felt the 'accelerator' pick her up - the world froze and became slow and draughty. Streams of water glistened in the sun and flowed smoothly down the dirty grey sides of the aircar. Each drop became clear. The sights of a lightning-quick rifle slowly entered her field of vision. The vehicle, howling with the thrust generators and gleaming glare on the cockpit glazing, began to turn smoothly sideways.

The Taer ducked into the scope and aimed the red dot of the marker at the side door of the aircar that appeared in her field of vision. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dudo shouting something, very slowly - from her point of view - raising his weapon. In fact, it was almost instantaneous.

The side door of the aerocar slowly crept to the side and, at the same time, her long barrel shrieked, sending the first shot through the opening. A bright blue glowing ball of discharge flew into the opening and shattered against the mirrored morass of the shield. The door finally opened, revealing the dark interior of the aircar and what Taer feared most: the HGM launcher and the red glinting eye of the passive guidance channel.

Damn!

The launcher was under the shield, and the long rifles could not do any damage to it.

Maybe if I cover the lord with me, the combined power of the personal shields would be enough?

But her body, under the control of the installed skills, kept sending out discharge after discharge into the opening, probably hoping to dazzle the operator or interfere with the aiming device.

Although the aerocar was two hundred paces away, she saw the membrane of the first compartment in the launch container become covered with a network of fine cracks and burst under the pressure of the missile's sharp nose. The HGM pierced the cloud of shrapnel with a silver needle, the stabilizers flashed with a sharp glare in the sun, and the rocket very slowly began to move to a safe distance from the launcher on the soft launch engines.

The long rifle in her hands gave a long howl, and a swarm of discharges pulsed toward the missile, followed by a second one fired by Dudo.

The rocket, rotating slowly, drifted through the stream of gunfire until one of the blue lights touched the edge of the stabilizer, bursting into a bright flash. The silver hull needle folded in half and, engulfed in sparks and smoky flames began to fall.

There was movement in the interior of the aerocar. Metal gleamed faintly, gunfire pulsed rhythmically, and a string of purple flashes curved in a predatory arc. The trail of tracers, which stung the Taer in the leg and smashed into the mirrored glow of the flaring personal shield, drew a trail of bursts toward Dudo, knocking out fountains of earth and steam in its path.

Lance Dudo was still firing when one of the discharges struck him in the chest. The bright flash of the hit immediately disappeared into a burst of smoke and sparks from the instantly burnt form. Slightly shaken by the impact, Dudo began to fall slowly, gradually tumbling onto his side.

Taer's first impulse was to lunge at him, but the guidance system decided otherwise - seeing a second missile begin to emerge from the container as it tore the membrane, the guidance system hurled her body in the direction of the lord. The aerocar's heavy assault speed gun howled behind her, sending a whirlwind of discharges in its wake. Scarlet tracers whirred around her with angry wasps, bursting with a loud dry hiss and showering her with waves of heat. The shields erupted, enveloping them both in mirrored ripples, as Taer knocked the lord to the ground and collapsed from above, pushing him into a small hollow.

She had time to think that it would hardly help if the missile hit them directly when suddenly she heard a familiar low rustle that drowned out the howling and hissing of bursting discharges.

Around them, covering almost the entire clearing in a swirl of glittering firepower, the shield being formed spun.

The central funnel went somewhere upwards, gradually dissolving into the sky. A white-tailed missile struck the still-forming cone of the shield and disappeared, shattering into a mirror-like ripple.

The attackers' aerocar jerked, trying to gain altitude, but froze, enveloped in flashes of static, nailed by the glowing rod of the force grip that had struck it.

Nearby there was a deafening cracking sound that turned into a rumbling noise, a tight wave of air hitting the ground, tearing down leaves and pressing tree branches to the ground, and knocking a white haze of water drizzle from the ubiquitous moss.

A landing null-boat appeared near the ground, dropping its visual camouflage and hovering between the aerocar and the shield, roaring with its traction generators. A scarlet griffin stood on its black side, and beneath it shone the golden eye of the search branch, the emblem of House Fyron's Intelligence.

The landing ramp touched the ground, and the forward eight in heavy assault suits immediately rumbled across it. Leaving deep trails that quickly filled with water, the paratroopers ran under the shield that opened in front of them. Behind the stormtroopers came four men in light blast suits carrying bulky white overalls and airbags. Medics.

The "guidance" "released" her.

She rolled off the lord and sprang to her feet, wanting to punch the paratrooper with the field biomonitor as hard as she could. The only thing that stopped her was that he was wearing armor.

Those bastards knew about the attack beforehand and didn't warn us! They used us as bait! They endangered the lord's life! They put Dudo under fire!

Taer gritted her teeth as the blue glow of the medscanner slid across her eyes.

"The second is normal - a slight sensory overload!" A muffled sound came from beneath the visor of the spacesuit.

"The first one is fine - minor bruises!" The second paratrooper medic, who was checking on Alex, who was spitting up mud, responded.

The communicator of the nearest paratrooper clicked, accepting the call, and Taer heard what she least wanted to hear.

"The third one is red, zero response! Urgent resuscitation!"

One could tell that the Third was not normal without a biomonitor. When Dudo was turned over on his back, the remains of his clothes were still smoldering, there was a huge smoking wound in the center of his chest, covered in a black crust, and the skin on his face and neck were burned and flappy.

There was popping and hissing - Dudo was flooded with cooling foam, a white triangle of the applicator was applied to his neck, a puncture was pressed - and bright scarlet blood gushed from the receiver...

"What the...!" started shouting at the paratrooper Taer...

Suddenly a scarlet beam of ignitor flashed across the attackers' aerocar, frozen in a storm of static. The machine's shield flashed white and immediately burst from the overload. The beam burned through the hull, and purple tongues of faint, barely visible flame erupted from the open side door. There was a rumbling noise inside, and black smoke billowed out.

The Imperial Prism appeared from behind the treetops, and with a dry rustling crackle, it flew overhead before disappearing from view again.

"Damn," the nearest paratrooper said from behind his visor.

"...demons, you waited so long with the shield if you knew about the attack!" Taer finished her tirade in an angry whisper, rather than a scream, as they hoisted her, just as they had the Lord, into the null-bot.

"Mistress Guards Sain Lieutenant! The shield was given in three and a half seconds! It was technically impossible to give it any faster!" The paratrooper who was carrying it replied as the ramp went up behind them.

Taer thought ten or fifteen seconds had passed - she wanted to yell to stop being bullshitted but remembered that she was under 'guidance' and 'acceleration'. So she shut up.

The null-bot howled with its generators, the ground on the small overview monitor dropped somewhere down, and only a column of black smoke rising above the downed aircar show a line at the location of the attack.

In the narrow landing compartment, Taer found herself sandwiched between guardsmen in assault suits.

In the passage between them, in the pale light of the decontamination lights, covered with white triangles of applicators, covered with foam and blood, lay Dudo. Due to his burned brow and wide-open eyes without lashes, he seemed to be very surprised about something.

Damn it, why did I only take two shields! Mentally howled Taer as he watched the doctors methodically cut open his clothes and apply applicators to his arteries.

Inaudible in the hum of the generators, the puncher clicked, and blood spurted from the intake opening, a bag of blood substitute was inserted into the intake, and it began to shrink with a loud hiss, squeezing out its contents. The dark red blood mixed with the bright blue blood substitute and flowed through the stretcher onto the floor, where a small dark purple puddle had already formed.

On the opposite side, also sandwiched between the paratroopers, sat the lord - crumpled, muddy with blood, and dazed.

"What's the matter with him?" He asked, muffled, nodding at Dudo.

"Very severe injury, Your Lordship, fifth-degree penetrating burns and barotrauma. The left lung is badly damaged, four of his ribs are burned, and his heart is damaged," one of the medics answered without turning around. "He was wearing a blaster-foam waistcoat that saved him from a penetrating burn and severed his spinal cord. But now the melted remnants of the waistcoat and clothing are obstructing access to the damaged organs and preventing cooling."

Saying this, the medic never stopped deftly wielding the vibroscalpel, crunching into the gummed crust on Dudo's chest.

Taer glanced at the stretcher's biomonitor - the automated system had detected a cardiac arrest forty seconds ago. She looked away from the screen to avoid seeing those numbers.

Damn, this sucks!

Another applicator slid into place, the puncher clicked, and a stream of blood splashed the lord and the guardsmen sitting beside him. Lord wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked into the eyes of the Taer sitting opposite:

"Let's find out who sent them..."

She only nodded grimly in response.

* * *​

Alex, absent-mindedly chattering wine in his glass, gazed longingly at the plate where a cephalopod called "arbuds under black salt, with a side dish of sweet Tallan turnips and amber caviar" was spread out picturesquely.

For some reason, he craved Navy macaroni and ice-cold Coke. A hot dog or something.

The ship's cook must have decided to show his best.

Alex, wrinkling painfully, leaned back in his chair. The ribs on his right side ached as if he'd been hit by a truck rather than a dainty girl.

If it hadn't been for the protective field, I'd have been guaranteed a couple of cracks or even a broken rib.

"Shall we go straight to dessert?" Flag Captain Dimo Gradam politely suggested, seeing the longing on Lord Cassard's face.

Alex glanced at Taer and, noticing the hungry glint in her eyes at the word 'dessert', nodded to the captain:

"Yes, I suppose that would be just great!"

The captain pressed the communicator button and, after asking for dessert, continued to smile at his guests. A little strained, though.

Considering how we yelled at him in two voices, the man has nerves of iron and an angelic temperament!

A polite conversation did not go smoothly - Alex and Taer were not inclined to discuss the weather after the assassination attempt and asked mostly about when they would finally be told "what is going on here" and what about Dudo. And they were asking in very angry tones.

The captain sympathetically shook his hands and said that, of course, he understood and shared their emotions but that he knew absolutely nothing. The planetary operation was handled by Intelligence. He and his ship were here solely to provide security from the "space" side, so to speak. And offered to wait for bearing Captain Sarvola, who was overseeing the operation on the intelligence side of House Fyron. But Lord Cassard and his guardsman were a little on edge after the incident and did not listen to the Captain's 'voice of reason', mostly demanding something... and clearly unfulfillable...

A man of steel. I couldn't do that.

Alex stared at the captain, a tall, trim, and gaunt man in his forties or forties-five with a hard face and the same hard light gray eyes. He wore the dark scarlet uniform of the House Fyron Guards, which added another "+10" to the overall sternness.

The captain, on the other hand, did not give the impression of being "dry" and tried his best to be courteous and hospitable.

Now Alex - washed, soothed, and changed into a clean blue jumpsuit with a "Lord Cassard" patch on it ("when did that happen, I wonder!") - understood the moral cost of dealing with two not quite adequate people, one of whom was also a lord. A lord of very scandalous reputation.

He could have told us he had business to attend to and dumped us on some deputy. Especially since he's the one who's been handed the scouts, and the navy's got nothing to do with it!

But Flag-Captain Gradam kept up the good work keeping a close eye on the guests and even offering them a tour of his ship, which they declined. Which Alex now regretted a little.

"Does Your Lordship prefer teymar or tea?" There was a mechanical, rattling voice near his ear that snapped "his lordship" out of his reverie.

"Аh? Better tea," Alex allowed the droid, who was holding a tray of cups and teapots.

The other two droids were at this moment displaying saucers with some cakes and some very appetizing-looking buns decorated with pink foam.

"I apologize for the humble table and the lack of proper servants. But I think you understand that this is a warship." The flag captain sighed sadly and, for argument's sake, circled his arm around the officers' quarters they were in.

The decorations were indeed very... "humble".

The walls of the room were black marble with light blue streaks and wrought-gold vines, and it was spacious and perfectly circular. The vines were woven around the walls, starting at the amber-tiled floor and stretching up to the dark blue ceiling, on which a mural glowed softly from within - a fleet of spacecraft frozen against the blue disk of some planet.

The whole furnishing consisted of a massive round table carved from a solid piece of dark green stone and twisted silver chairs surrounding it, fixed on a single rotating support.

"Not at all, Captain!" Alex smiled. "Everything is just fine. It's just a pity that the occasion that allowed us to enjoy your hospitality is sad," the smile faded.

The captain nodded sympathetically and went on to say some platitudes appropriate to the occasion. Alex nodded absently, nodding in agreement as he watched a droid, resembling a small pole on wheels with a single long arm and a fixed stand of cups and teapots, pour tea for him.

The locals treated droids like furniture, paying no more attention to them than, say, chairs. But from personal "interaction" and questioning of Taer, Alex had concluded that most droids could safely be called fully sentient.

A sensible stool is another matter entirely, Alex watched as the droid, whirring softly, placed a cup of tea in front of him and poured it perfectly to a golden border. A stool like that needs an eye on it.

Alex reached for the cup, but Taer, who was sitting next to him, was sooner. She took his cup, slipped the tip of an analyzer that looked like a fountain pen into the tea, and after waiting for the green light to turn on, she returned the stolen item to Alex.

Alex, sighing heavily, took the returned cup, took a sip, and with a strained smile, put the cup back on the table - the tea tasted like brewed hay.

The next few minutes passed in complete silence. Taër was absorbing cake after cake with a sort of absent-mindedness, not even seeming to taste it. Alex stared thoughtfully at the drawing on the ceiling, occasionally taking small sips of tea.

The captain remained diplomatically silent.

Finally, the door to the wardroom hissed open, revealing a young man, about thirty at the most, with blond hair, large brown eyes, and a wide, slightly upturned nose. And with an almost square chin. A black shoulder pad with a gold eye, worn over a dark scarlet Guard uniform, accentuated the width of his shoulders. All in all, the Peleng Captain Sarvola was far from the image of a scout as Alex had imagined him to be, but more reminiscent of a boxer with a track record of... let's say, somewhere in the middleweight range.

Seeing the looks on his face he raised his hands in a conciliatory manner:

"I apologize, Lord Cassard, Mistress Saine Lieutenant, for keeping you in the dark for so long. Unfortunately, it's taken me a while to get to the bottom of this. But now I am ready to answer all your questions," he added as he sat down at the table.

"What's with Dudo?" Taer blurted out before Alex could open his mouth.

"Honourable Guwar, as you already know, has suffered a very serious injury. Fortunately, thanks to the successful action of the field doctors and the timely treatment, his life is currently out of danger."

Hearing this, Alex let out a sigh of relief.

Everything was happening before his eyes, literally at arm's length. The red face with white flakes of sloughing skin, eyes wide open and empty, a black, melted stain on chest, blood, and the smell of burning everywhere.

And then, back on the ship, Alex felt nauseous as he washed someone else's blood off him. He thought he could smell it even there. He'd seen dead people before, and a corpse was not a sight that would shake his peace of mind much, even in this form: fried with a blaster, 'seen worse'. But here it was different - the man had died because he was trying to protect him, and the thought evoked a heavy, oppressive sense of guilt and 'duty' in the back of his mind.

If it wasn't for the captains with their grim faces, I'd be jumping and shouting for joy, thought Alex, who had never felt so relieved in his life.

"He has been taken to the hospital ship Mareide of the Bentar fleet and placed in the intensive care unit," the peleng captain continued. "The doctors assess his current condition as moderate."

Sarvola fell silent, opened the leather folder he had with him, and pulled out an info stick:

"And in anticipation of your next question, here..." he held out the rod to Taer. "Here are the contact details of his attending physician."

"Why weren't we warned?" Taer snatched up the outstretched stick.

"Mistress Diltar, I can assure you we knew nothing...," Sarvola began.

"Don't turn my ears back on me. I'm not a skurf!" The "security specialist" interrupted, getting hotter and hotter. "You want medals and titles? Show up as heroes and save the day?"

"Sain Lieutenant Diltar, I assure you, we had nothing but suspicions," Peleng Captain Sarvala stressed at the rank of Taer. "But we have tried to give Lord Cassard maximum protection."

"We almost got fried in there!" she almost shouted. "All because someone thought they were in control, and by their criminal inaction they endangered the life of a Lord of the Great House! That, by the way, qualifies as a crime against the foundations of the Empire and the Emperor himself. I want to know whose idea it was to use us as bait! Otherwise, I will see to it that your criminal negligence reaches the Imperial Tribunal, and then immunity will save you... So do not even think of lying to me... Peleng Captain!"

In the last word Taer managed to put such a range of feelings that temporarily the rank of "peleng-captain" became equivalent to at least a three-floor profanity construction.

Well... communication was clearly not working. Alex looked at the purple-faced peleng-captain and the same Taer. Something had to be done.

"Saine Lieutenant!" Sarvala tried to equal the volume with Taer. "You are essentially calling me a liar, and as an officer, I will not tolerate..."

"I'll...," Taer was already showing the peleng-captain a clenched fist.

Alex, seeing that this was heading for a trivial brawl (in which he thought Sarvola's chances were better) or even a duel, which would not be desirable at all, sighed heavily and drained his cup of leftover tea in one gulp. He gave Flag-captain Graydam an apologetic look, held the cup high and slammed it to the floor.

The porcelain-looking cup, black with a fine red pattern and fancy handle, had accomplished its task by crashing to the floor with a loud clang, shattering into small pieces.

After this loud non-verbal argument, there was silence in the wardroom.

"After all this turmoil, I've become a bit clumsy," Alex repented to the officers who turned to him in sync. "I apologize for interrupting the discussion, but my Blade and I will be leaving you briefly and will be back in just a few minutes."

He took Taer, who was sitting next to him, under his arm and dragged her towards the exit.

"What's wrong?" Taer fumed as soon as the door closed behind them. "Can't you see that we've been used by these freaks? They're trying on their medals now. Saved the Lord and his retinue! It was a miracle we survived! We hit the first missile. If it had, those "saviors" would still be looking for ashes to identify us."

Alex interrupted her, pointing his eyes at the figure in the dark blue jumpsuit approaching down the corridor, and pressed a finger to his lips. Taer remained silent as the crewman walked past them in surprise and was about to start her denunciation again, but she didn't have time.

"You know, Taer, I totally agree with you!" Alex was momentarily ahead of the "specialist", who had already opened her mouth. "I called you here for a different reason."

Taer closed her mouth and looked questioningly at Alex.

"I have two very important questions that I don't want to discuss in front of outsiders." He leaned against the warm, slightly rough wall of the corridor. "First, what about the info stick you were given? Is it in one piece?"

"Yes," she patted the side pocket of the same blue jumpsuit with the 'Saine Lieutenant Diltar' patch on it. "It looked intact, but there was no way to check."

"That's great! Second question... can you go back in time?"

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that after you shout at this captain, information he is willing to share with us won't make it any more true. And it won't get any truer, either."

"Don't you understand?" Taer burst out angry. "The frigate Artela," she slammed her palm against the wall. "A House Fyron battleship! And we're in Bentar space! She's been brought in ahead of time, negotiated passage with the Bentars! All this for suspicion? This is nonsense! They brazenly lie to us!"

"And if you yell, will they tell the truth?" Alex squinted. "If you're going to poison them with an imperial tribunal, don't threaten to do so. At first, you have to find out what it will gain you besides moral satisfaction."

Taer opened her mouth to say something harsh but then changed her mind and waved her hand with a heavy sigh.

"So, let's go and listen quietly to what this guy has to say, and then we'll think about what to do and whether he lied to us or not. All right?" Alex looked into Taer's eyes.

"So, let's go and listen quietly to what this guy has to say, and then we'll think about what to do and whether he lied to us or not. All right?" Alex looked into Taer's eyes.

The captains in the wardroom were discussing something, but they all simultaneously fell silent at the appearance of Lord Cassard and his Blade. By the look on their faces, they seemed to be the subject of the discussion. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the quiet whirring of the droid as it finished picking up the shards of the cup from the floor.

"Sorry again for interrupting your story," Alex sat back in his seat. "Please, Captain Sarvolla, continue."

"So..." Sarvola coughed into his fist. "After analyzing the previous attempt on Your Lordship's life, the Intelligence Analysis Division suggested the possibility of a second attack. It was then assumed, on learning that you would be participating in a Voigrom, that this was the best place to conduct another attack. Intelligence had no other evidence to support that theory," the captain said emphatically. "Otherwise, we would certainly have warned Your Lordship."

Taer had already gathered air to say what she thought of this version but held back, limiting herself to a very expressive grimace.

Peleng Captain, distinctly ignoring the expression on Taer's face, continued, occasionally glancing at the infoblock screen lying on the table in front of him:

"Suspecting a possible attack on Your Lordship's yacht, we contacted the House Bentar fleet and asked them for an escort to House Melato station. We also asked them for permission to use the frigate Artela in their space, which has been assigned the role of controlling the near sphere of hyperspace. We also negotiated with our partners from House Bentar the possibility of using a reinforcement team, which was to be used if a situation requiring forceful intervention arose on the planet or station." Sarvola broke away from the screen and looked at Alex. "Fortunately, Your Lordship, House Bentar had responded in agreement, aided especially by the ruling lady's position. Lady Valerie's help was invaluable in negotiating with the House Bentar fleet."

"I hope I can thank her properly," Alex said with a slightly strained smile.

"The security team was divided into two sub-groups - an operational and a reinforced one. The operative was stationed on the station as an entourage of Count Decero, who is also the Sain Lieutenant of House Fyron's Intelligence service. The reinforced, equipped with assault suits and heavy weapons - waited in space aboard the null-bot, ready to intervene at any moment...

"Captain, House Melato didn't object to the presence of a frigate and our House nullbot near his station?" It was an obvious misunderstanding from Alex's point of view. "After all, I understand we have a bit of a strained relationship."

"The Nulbot was in Null Mode..." Sarvola began to explain, clearly trying to find simpler words. "It was hard to detect in that mode, all the more so because it was camouflaged by the interference of House Bentar's hospital ship. And as for the frigate, I think the Flag Captain can explain it to you." He nodded toward the Greydam.

"The frigate was positioned a great distance deep in the system, Your Lordship," the flag captain explained. "Ready to make a short hop to the station on signal, for which purpose our drive beacon was located on the Bentar ship, and the spectrum used by such beacons was allocated to us."

"I see," Alex understood almost nothing except that the null-bot was a kind of local stealth. "What, in fact, about the assassination attempt itself?"

Captain Sarvola sighed sadly and lowered his eyes to the infoblock screen again:

"At 4:53 local time, a small flying reconnaissance drone detected the appearance of an aerocar-type vehicle in threatening proximity to Your Lordship and raised the alarm. Upon receiving the alarm, the hospital ship Mareide began to put up a shield and the force support team began to move out to provide protection and fire support."

"The primary shield outline was formed within three and a half seconds of receiving the signal. At that time, the attackers' aircar had time to fire two heavy guided missiles and a heavy assault blaster. In the course of the firing, the respected Dudo Guwar of your lordship's entourage was seriously injured. The warheads of both missiles failed to fire, the first because the missile was destroyed by fire from the ground, the second because it made contact with the surface of the shield before the safety fuse was disengaged by the safe distance. Six seconds after receiving the alert, the Artela frigate completed a short jump and blocked the attackers' aircar with a power grab."

"At the tenth second, the null-boat of the force support group landed near Your Lordship, and the landed guardsmen immediately proceeded to evacuate Your Lordship and provide medical assistance to the injured. At the fourteenth second, the attackers' aerocar was fired upon from heavy igniters by a Prism-E type fighter of the Imperial Security Forces. Since the fighter's intentions were unclear, Lieutenant Arali Teigro decided to speed up the evacuation...

"Can you tell me more about the imperial fighter?" Alex interrupted the captain. "As I understood, once the shield was installed, the attackers were no longer a threat and could be captured. Right?"

"Right, Your Lordship. That was the original plan, but unfortunately, there were no survivors in the aerocar after the Imperial fighter attack. Regarding the attack itself," Sarwalla frowned. "Unfortunately, I can't give you any more information than the report the SS sent me," the Peleng Captain drew two more info blocks from his infoblock folder and handed them to the Taer. "Briefly, the Imperial pilot detected the intruder and detected the rocket. He said he didn't use his weapon because of the danger to the people on the ground but chose to approach and engage the target with his onboard ignitor fire. Which he did."

"During the attack, he also detected a power group nullbot and, assuming they were also intruders, went for a second run. Fortunately, the pilot also saw the emblem of our House on board the nullbot and started requesting instructions from his superiors, so the nullbot was able to leave the danger zone in time. We received this information in the form of a report from the SS. We were not allowed to speak to the pilot in person. Her Lordship Ergo-Captain Durlurl has been notified about the incident, and negotiations with the Imperial Security Sector Directorate are ongoing.

"Sadly," Alex sighed ("how fortunate that Imperial had made a move, all ends up in the water!"). "So you couldn't get any information on the attackers?"

"There's something I've been able to find out. But, unfortunately, not much. Three of the six attackers have been identified as Bentar, two of whom were educated at the University of Tallana, and there is no further information, but I think we will be able to find out more shortly. Analysis of the missile wreckage has revealed the model of the HGM. "Dagger-2U" manufactured by Zonn-Merr with a reinforced warhead - this model was purchased in our sector only by the Guards of House Bentar. Peltar's Azure twin-skinned aerocar. Presumably, the attackers were camouflaged in an artificial underwater shelter or a natural cave in a lake. When the transport from Bentar with special underwater equipment arrives, we will be able to say more...

Sarvola closed the infoblock folder and pushed it away from him:

"That's all I can tell you at the moment, Lord Cassard."

"You mean I've been attacked by Bentarans...?" Alex wondered. "What did they have against me?"

"I urge you not to jump to conclusions, Your Lordship," Sarvola said.

About my far-reaching political conclusions, he was specifically instructed, Alex realized.

"There is no certainty that Bentar is behind the attack," the captain assured him. "After all, the Bentars has been a great help to us in keeping you safe. But we can't deny that there might be some group within House Bentar who have a vested interest in your death, either."

It's clear that the case is unclear.

Alex rose from the table:

"Well, thank you very much for the information and your timely appearance - I am incredibly grateful to you, Peleng Captain Sarvola, for your foresight and to you, Flag Captain Gradam, for your hospitality and assistance," he shook hands with the approaching officers.

Taer stood up from the table without a word, but she might as well have said nothing, for her expression was so full of thoughts about the organizers of this operation. The thoughts were, by all accounts, profane.

"Lord Cassard? Perhaps you could come and stay with me. You'll be safer on the frigate." Flag Captain Gradam, who had been aware of Alex's intention to move to his yacht immediately after his conversation with the Intelligence representative, suggested.

"I thank you for the offer, but Baroness Rionale and Marquis Degrasto, with whom I have been traveling, are due to arrive on the boat soon. I think they're worried enough as it is. And to stay with you all this time is to give rise to unnecessary doubts." Alex, with regret in his voice, as if to emphasize that he would certainly love to, but...

"Perhaps you would agree to take a few of our men with you?" Sarvola interjected. "To enhance your security."

On the one hand, some extra barrels have been shown to be quite useful, but on the other...

And on the other hand, Alex never doubted for a second that this heightened security would be just as much of a snitch to Countess Durlurl.

And I still have the footage sent by the rebels to watch...

"Thank you, but no. I think the fact that my yacht will be escorted by a frigate is more than enough. On the boat itself, my Arm, in which I am more than confident, will be able to ensure my safety.

"As Your Lordship wills..."

Accompanied by the captains, they reached the flight module (No, Your Lordship, the hangars are where the machines are stored, this is the flight module), where the curious public, Lord Cassard, was shown the thrilling spectacle of the opening of the receiving port directly into space.

And I know that the protective fields... Alex looked out at the green continent, overcast in a haze of clouds - the frigate was in low orbit, and the huge airlock door, which had gone somewhere down, offered a spectacular view of the planet. Still, it felt a little uncomfortable.

The view was not to be admired for long. With a booming roar, the scarlet wall of Istal's starboard side emerged from somewhere below and hid the planet behind it.

The docking began. The low hum of the engines blended in with the ship's noises, gradually intensifying as the ship, which was not much smaller than the frigate, drew nearer. The transparent tube of the intake port, which swung out with a low hiss, encircled the opening of the airlock door, beyond which the light oak panels and the scarlet carpets of the Istal interior were already visible.

Exactly midway down the intake port tube, Alex and Taer stopped. The walls of the boards loomed up against the blackness of space, the scarlet hull of the Istal behind, and the white of the frigate in front. The white surface of the hull, instantly covered in frost, smelled cold, so the farewell to the captains was brief.

"Strange man," Alex shuddered as the airlock door closed behind them.

"Just trying to make a quick career, 'saviour'!" Taer snorted.

"I mean the Flag Captain," Alex gestured for the boat captain to leave. "According to you, people like him either hate me or despise me."

"Maybe he was hoping to make a good impression." Taer shrugged. "So that you could put in a good word for him with the Council of Privy. Or one of your father's admirers. I don't know."

"Where are you going?" Alex tried to catch Taer by the elbow as she turned to the side, but to no avail.

"Change," she pointedly pulled back the high collar of her overalls with her finger.

"That's for later, but for now, march with me to the bedroom."

"What for?" Taer was taken aback.

"What do you normally do in the bedroom... I'll get you into bed... Right! Easy, easy, easy! That was a joke!" Alex hastily backed away when he saw the change in Taer's face. "We'll watch the info-stick before Kayrin and Marquis come running in..."

* * *​
 
Chapter 18
Chapter 18

* * *​

The golden threads of the tablecloth stretched as far as the eye could see. The scarlet threads of embroidery flowed across it, now in thin, curving branches, now in dragon-like curves. Small lakes of light, honey-colored tea froze motionless in a haze, smooth with the porcelain shores of the saucers.

Above this pastoral scene towered mountains of cakes, topped with snowy caps of icing sugar and glittering peaks of bottles. In the gaps in the confectionery landscape, somewhere behind, the silhouettes of servants glided in vague white shadows. With quiet tinkling and faintly audible chatter, they set out, corrected, and checked.

The view, however, was very poor - it was literally being recorded from the table. So the cups, teapots, and cakes blocked a large part of the view. Alex was about to rewind that part and go straight to the interesting part when part of a perfectly white sleeve of cloth, similar to gauze, appeared in the frame, and a swarthy palm placed a pyramid of a suppressor on the table very close to the recording device.

The control light at the top of the pyramid glowed dimly yellow, streaks and rhythmic waves of distortion went across the screen, and the sounds became quieter and more metallic and scratchy, but the camera continued to work, and, in principle, everything was visible and audible.

"I wonder if that's how someone's recording us, too." Alex glanced at the suppressor pyramid next to him, which also had a yellow control light on it. "What's the use of them, then?"

"It's certainly the best thing to do," Taer frowned, taking the passage about the suppressors as a rebuke to herself.

Perfectionist! Alex sighed, watching the gloomy face of his 'personal security specialist', And a resentful perfectionist.

He leaned towards the screen again. This movement was echoed with a painful wave in his bruised ribs.

But brave and with a frenzied reaction.

Meanwhile, there was movement on the monitor again. Someone, judging by the build, a man appeared on the opposite side of the table opposite the recorder. He was dressed in something between a kimono and a gown of a delicate cream color. This something was adorned with massive dark stones around the collarbone. The man sat down at the table, and his face became visible, broad with a strong chin, a predatory nose with a slight hook, rather large lips, and brown, almost black, eyes.

"I think it's the same guy who met us at the station." Alex tried to remember the name, but the only thing he could remember was the 'wrong' handshake.

"Lord Velaske," Taer prompted.

Next to him sat a grey-haired man with a small "academic" beard and lively, slanted eyes that stood out in his wrinkled face.

"The professor the Marquis Degrasto was talking to!" Alex was surprised and raised his eyes to the ceiling and tried to remember his name as well. "I think. Takkar, and the name was something complicated... Fayur, or something..."

"Fayor," the "specialist" corrected without taking her eyes off the monitor.

In the meantime, a third person joined the crowd. Judging by the hand that flashed in the frame, it was probably a woman. And a young one at that. But that was all I could see - she sat behind the camera.

"I'm glad you were able to find an opportunity for this meeting!" Lord Velaske smiled, pressing his left hand to his chest. "I hope that we will have time to discuss what is happening and make any necessary adjustments," he took the saucer of tea in his hands and took a small sip.

"I am primarily concerned about Lord Cassard," he looked expressively at the professor. "Frankly, we didn't think it would be so difficult for you, given your capabilities. My colleagues and I have already had to improvise a lot."

"Inevitable accidents in such circumstances," remarked Professor Takkar philosophically. "I'm sure it will be a success tomorrow. The group is already in position, and the HGM is not a weapon that leaves any alternative for the outcome of this attack."

"I would like to hope so, Professor," a distorted, interfering female voice came from somewhere outside the camera's field of vision. "The inability of your people to cope with such a simple case is the main reason why my deadline is being disrupted in the first place!"

"I think it will go well this time," Lord Velaske hastened to put an end to the conflict. "And even if, by some improbable coincidence, Lord Cassard were to survive, the matter would be handled by the experts I've already summoned. And the professor's men can concentrate on their main task on Tallana."

"It's taking too long as it is," objected the lord's unseen interlocutor. "I can't wait for your 'specialist' to get to Cassard as well. The ships..."

What kind of ships were meant remained unknown. The picture froze - the recording came to an end.

"And why so much attention to me alone?" Alex sighed heavily as he watched the screen that hung in the air slowly fade away, scattering golden sparks.

Taer remained silent, ignoring the clearly rhetorical question. She sat absentmindedly with her head slightly tilted, clearly in contemplation and mechanically twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Not wanting to disturb the thought process of his 'security specialist', who was, in any case, more knowledgeable, Alex took advantage of the pause to gather his thoughts:

First, the "specialists" to whom the honorable challenge to "whack Lord Cassard in the shortest possible time" had been passed on. The thought of another assassination attempt sent an unpleasant chill down his chest. He had always thought he had no fear of death at all, but the determined consistency of these guys was beginning to act depressing, to say the least.

Second, what was it about me that displeased them so much? Third, who is Lady "X" and what interests do they have in common - the Lord of House Melato, the Professor of the University of Tallana, and the mysterious stranger? Fourthly, can't we just turn these woeful conspirators into the local police? Or the Security Service or whatever.

"It's pointless, even dangerous, to go to the Security Service with this recording," Taer's voice, which came out of her stupor, sounded like a commentary on his thoughts. "We can't prove the authenticity of this recording, and investigating its origin by the SS or Imperial Intelligence could create complications of such magnitude that it would be better not to even begin."

"Well, let's just say." Alex looked at Taer with interest. "What are your suggestions then?"

"Contact Countess Durlurl as soon as we get to the secure terminal and show her this recording," she stated flatly. "They're clearly plotting something against our entire House, and your murder is just a cover-up. Intelligence must be aware of that."

"I don't mind intelligence knowing about the threat to the House. But as soon as Daim Esta sees the video, she'll claw its source out of me and then eat them alive with their guts. I wouldn't want Lord Cassard's gratitude for providing vital information to be expressed in this form."

And I certainly didn't want to give Countess Durlurl any more leverage on myself. This time the very real fact of my association with the anti-imperialists

Taer thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers in triumph:

"I can tell her that the bag with the stick was amongst the mail. Or it was just planted. And you don't have to explain anything then. Let them think for themselves. You can even say if you like, that you don't know anything about it yet."

"And you really think Daim Esta would believe that?" Alex asked with an extremely skeptical expression on his face.

"What is there for her to do?" Taer shrugged her shoulders innocently. "She has no other sources of information. And I'm not going to tell her anything."

Except that some of the guardsmen react to Countess Durlurl like a rabbit to a boa constrictor.

"And then," the specialist pushed, "In any case, something has to be done about Lord Velaske and the Professor..."

For example, to kill so they don't try to kill peaceful lords

"... and House Fyron's intelligence has the means to deal with such a problem," Taer continued. "After all, it is their direct task! We, on the other hand, can't do anything about it."

Well, according to Isalaya, they managed to order the Ruling Lord with the Head of Intelligence. With a professor and just a lord, with four million danarii in cash, the matter would probably be resolved even faster, mentally objected Alex, but did not say anything aloud because deep in his heart, and understood that so, out of the blue, without connections and other things, to take and "order" someone - would be more expensive. But I don't want to go and bow down to that bitch...

"All right," he sighed heavily. "You get in touch with Countess Durlurl, tell her you were planted with the record, and you contact her immediately without even telling me so as not to worry me unnecessarily."

"That's good!" Taer got up from the sofa. "I can go and change now, can't I, Your Lordship?"

Alex just nodded wearily and waited for her to come out, then began to pull off his overalls as well:

I think she's having a nervous breakdown, he thought aloof as he stretched out on the couch. Just fifteen minutes ago, she was tearing and thrashing and ready to tear Lieutenant Sarvola apart with her teeth... and now she's smiling and cheerful, even trying to joke...

Though there was no point in nagging at the girl,
Alex grinned grimly as he stared at his reflection in the dark mahogany panel, polished to a high shine. You're freaking out, too... deep down.

He was not allowed to lie on the sofa in peace. In just a few minutes, a call came on the communicator, and the captain of the yacht apologetically warned that the shuttle with Baroness Rional and the Marquis Degrasto would be arriving in just a few minutes.

Realizing that he was about to be jumped on and expressing his concern, perhaps even sincerely, Alex began to put the overalls back on, picking up the many fasteners, cords, and some wires that had previously belonged to the overalls and were picturesquely scattered around the bedroom. The lord was too lazy to go to the wardrobe to find something more appropriate.

By the way, it's interesting - the Marquis was definitely in contact with this Tallana professor, and the third "unknown" negotiator is young and female. It's a piquant thing if they're both in on it.

Adding to the spice was the recollection that the Marquis was traveling with four servants, three of whom, in Alex's view, were of the right build and age to be fighters.

Yes, Taer and I are clearly outnumbered.

Alex looked at Kayrin and Marquis Degrasto walking down the clear tube of the receiving port that connected the yacht and the small silver shuttle, something subtly similar to the sports boats of his world. With the Marquis, of course, were his servants - all four of them. The faces of all of them were very worried.

Well, let's hope they don't become so blunt as to attack outright.

"Alex! What's wrong? Are you all right?" Kayrin was pouncing with questions before she could get out of the shuttle. "When we were taking off, I saw the Flyer crash outside your site. I was so freaked out!"

"We were contacted by an intelligence representative and told that you were leaving urgently," Marquis Degrasto looked somewhat annoyed. "And he didn't explain anything."

Alex thought for a moment about what to say and what not to say. Then he decided that they would find out anyway:

"There's been another attempt on my life," he said in as mundane and bored a tone as possible. Like bad weather, he complained. "He was unfortunately not without casualties this time - one of the guardsmen of my Arm was badly wounded."

"Is Taer hurt?" Kayrin exclaimed, stunned. "What happens to her?"

"Not with Taer, thank g..." Alex hesitated but corrected himself in time. "Luckily she's all right. Dudo's wounded."

When she heard that Taer was all right, Kay sighed in relief. She then asked a few general questions about Dudo's health out of pure politeness. His fate was far less interesting to Baroness Rionale.

I wonder why she got so excited - I thought they didn't like each other, to put it mildly.

For the next thirty minutes, Alex answered the endless questions of the Marquis and Kayrin. Though there wasn't much to say, from his point of view, it was almost instantaneous: the only things he remembered were the huge column of water surrounding the machine that had popped out of the lake, the howl of the phasers and the air filled with buzzing blasts of tracers, and then - he was knocked down and pinned to the ground by Taer, who was surprisingly heavy.

The results of the investigation did not shine with the variety either - "no witnesses, no suspects, no detainees, no evidence..." - so the Marquis soon enough left Alex behind and, bowing out, went with his servants to his quarters to change - he was still in his hunting suit, bearing the marks of a long walk through the wet thickets of Voigrom.

Kayrin, on the other hand, seemed determined to take the opportunity to squeeze everything out of Alex:

"I think you're hiding something from me," she sighed sadly as she and Alex walked to the main hall. "First the poisoning, the shield generator in the castle, and now another assassination attempt. Why won't you tell me everything? Maybe I can help you. And if I can't, my Clan can."

Really, Kayrin, you couldn't have killed Lord Velaske and Professor Takkar. And one other unknown damsel. Those bitches are on a deadline because of me, so they're trying to do their best. And if you can't, maybe your Clan can do it?

"You know, Kay, frankly, I don't really have much to tell you," Alex sat comfortably on one of the cozy couches around the perimeter of the main lounge where he and Kayrin had come "to talk". "Someone wants to kill me, but you already know that. It was obvious after the poisoning. Why someone wants to kill me, I have no idea," he said, and that's the plain truth. "I may have known it before. But after the poisoning, my memory is far from perfect."

"If you've forgotten everything," Kayrin arched an eyebrow. "Then why did you buy a shield generator and hire more people? Look, Alex, I'm not your enemy, I really want to help you!"

"Why?" tiredly asked Alex, who slightly doubted the sincere altruism of this young NLP-girl.

"That's a strange question! In our generation, I am closest to you. Blood to blood, fire to fire!" she quoted some local proverb. "You have to stick to each other in these matters! An attack on you is an attack on my Clan. You are the last of your kind, and if you are killed, I have no one else to avenge you."

"I agree," Alex didn't believe Baroness Rionale's version of 'one for all and all for one.' "And how exactly can you help?"

"Well..." she began, stepping closer and touching him on the shoulder as if unintentionally (I see, you have limited resources, my dear...). "It depends on what exactly is going on around you. But, at the very least, I could summon some of my Arm. Taer alone, for all its merits, is obviously not enough."

And find yourself surrounded by a bunch of armed brutes who obey you? Yes, you're my sweetheart - do you really think I'm that naive?

"I don't think that's necessary," Alex assured her. "It's unlikely the killers will dare make another attempt anytime soon."

"I don't understand why I deserve your distrust!" Kayrin frowned and pulled away. "I really want to help you! But you won't even tell me what's going on! If there's a secret involved, I'll give you my word!"

And after all, what am I risking? In any case, we've already decided to leak the footage to Countess Durlurl.

"The word?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I give my word as Baroness Rionale!" she pressed her right hand to her chest, and her voice was solemn. "That I will keep your secret, whatever it may be! I can swear on fire. If you want me to." She added after a moment's hesitation.

"I think your word is more than enough," smiled Alex, who had little faith in the effectiveness of any vow

"Then tell me about it!" Kayrin declared, moving closer again. "What's going on?"

"Well, all right," he got up from the sofa and held out his hand. "Let's go."

In his quarters he went to the suppressors first, out of a habit he had already picked up.

"It's very nice here." Kayrin looked around curiously.

Alex just nodded absentmindedly in response, saying that I liked it too.

This entry was in the mail. Unfortunately, we looked at it after the assassination attempt.

He switched on the cluster built into the small table. Two holographic screens flashed in front of the chairs, and the picture on them shook slightly, gaining depth and clarity, gradually revealing a familiar picture...

"We need to contact Countess Durlurl," Kayri said in a strangled voice after the recording had ended. "This is clearly directed against our entire House."

And so is she! She's not a countess. She's a lifesaver!

"That's probably what we'll do once the boat arrives in Copeira. I don't really like the idea myself, though."

"That's the most sensible thing to do in a situation like this!" Kayrin objected firmly. "Your Arm is very small, you have no Clan to fall back on, and for some reason, you refuse my help. And Taer isn't omnipresent. She's not enough to protect you. And Daim Esta has to be warned anyway: It seems to me that the attempt on your life is no more than a cover for an attack on our House. The girl was talking about some kind of ship."

"Yes, I understand!"

Alex was reluctant to let Kayrin in on his difficulties with Countess Durlurl and diplomatically overlooked the passage about people helping to guard him.

But Kay is right: Taer alone will not be enough - I must get some people together and people as far away from politics as possible!

"Are you having some sort of disagreement with Countess Durlurl?" guessed Kayrin, who couldn't help the lack of enthusiasm at the mention of the head of intelligence.

"Ah, never mind," Alex brushed her off. "A little misunderstanding..."

"Is that all?" There was a slight tinge of irony in Kayrin's smile. "What had caused this misunderstanding?"

He wrestled with doubts for a few moments - whether or not to tell - and decided, what the hell - it can't get any worse:

"Let's just say it relates to my possible marriage..."

"Оh!" Kayrin's eyebrows went up. "She's against marrying Valerie Bellar? I didn't know."

"No," Alex shook his head. "I'm against it."

"You?!" she exclaimed with a kind of joyful amazement. "Alex, but why?!"

He shrugged his shoulders with as indifferent a look as possible:

"I don't want to."

"I was told that you were almost the author of the idea! And you certainly weren't against it!"

"Maybe. But I, you know, managed to lose my memory in the process. And I lost it hard. And then I'm told I have to marry this girl, who I've never seen before! And why I need this marriage - I just don't understand! So I'm not enthusiastic about the whole idea."

"Well... Well, don't get married!" With the broadest and most sincere smile, Kayrin suggested. "What's the big deal? They haven't even announced the engagement yet."

"The difficulty lies with Countess Durlurl, who does not want the whole arrangement with House Bentar to go down the drain just because someone has suddenly changed his mind."

"Who cares what she doesn't want?" Baroness Rionale smirked defiantly. "Let her look for another candidate! I'm sure finding someone willing to be Lord Consort isn't the hardest thing to do."

"I understand that the Bentars insist on my candidacy..." Alex sighed. "But, generally speaking, I'm not in the mood for marriage problems right now..."

"I see..." Kayrin nodded sympathetically. "I think we should contact Countess Durlurl, anyway. And about marriage..." she cheered up again, winking conspiratorially. "You know, I think... no, I'm sure I have a way to help you. And without offending anyone!"

"I wonder how?" Alex raised an eyebrow with interest.

"Well," said a pleased Kayrin. "Let's just say I'm not promising anything yet. But if it works, it'll be a force majeure, and you won't be in any danger! Wouldn't you?"

Alex nodded silently, not really counting on anything.

You never know, but let's see!

She jumped up enthusiastically from her chair:

"I need to send an urgent message then. Where's your communicator?" Kayrin turned to leave and was about to go but froze when she saw the gently pulsing blue fabric of hyperspace outside the stateroom window. "Great shadows! We're already in the jump. I didn't even notice the transition!"

She sighed sadly but waved her hand:

"All right, then, I'll wait for the arrival on Copeira! By the way, Alex, what do you think of a light meal? I'm starving - the last time I ate was before I landed on Voigrom."

"I think that's a great idea!" Apart from the flag captain's attempt to feed Alex some cuttlefish, he didn't eat anything at all.

"Then, meet me in the refectory!" Kayrin suggested, sending him one of her dazzling smiles. "I'm going to take this off and change into something more appropriate," she pointed a finger at her luxurious reddish leather hunting costume.

Waiting for the door to close behind Kayrin, Alex let out a long groan and started to pull off his overalls, but then spat and began to zip them back on.

To hell with them all! After all, whether I'm an autocrat and a drunkard or not! I can walk around my yacht in overalls!

Alex spent the next nine hours, which it took for the yacht to jump to Copeira, trying to find out from the Marquis of Degrasto in roundabout ways what interest the Melatian lord and the Talana professor had in causing chaos in House Fyron by killing Allesandro Cassard.

No clear motives emerged: House Melato was, of course, a rival and almost an enemy of House Fyron, but they had no common border, and a direct attack was highly unlikely. The Tallana option was murky - the Tallana oligarchy had no interest in making trouble for House Fyron. Especially not in this way.

There was also the possibility that the Professor was, in fact, a terrorist representative from the PVD, but that did not add to the clarity since Alessandro Cassard was not an imperial official and had never even spoken particularly enthusiastically about the Empire.

So when the yacht landed near Blue Flame Castle nine hours later, Alex and Taer, having unloaded their guests to the majordomo, went straight to the bedroom of the "security specialist".

"Don't move, or you'll get caught in the terminal camera's field of view!" Taer instructed, making sure she was the only one in sight of the secure terminal.

After checking the fit of her uniform (which Alex thought was perfect) and brushing an invisible speck of dust off her shoulder, the "specialist" entered the number into the terminal.

A red griffin on a grey field appeared on the screen, enclosed in a golden circle. Beneath the circle was a stylized gold eye. After a few seconds, the screen saver disappeared, replaced by a blue-shaven young man of about twenty-five in a charcoal-black uniform:

"Identify yourself at once!" he blurted out. "Otherwise, you will be charged with resisting the investigation!"

"Er..." the stunned Taer only had time to utter before an angry shout came from across the screen, the picture blinked, and Countess Durlurl appeared on the screen.

A very, very pissed-off Countess Durlurl, to be precise:

"Lieutenant, remember! In this office, I, or my secretary, answer the call!" she hissed, looking sideways.

"They may be accomplices to the assassins whom you can warn in some way, so we have to limit your public..." the lieutenant started to object from somewhere outside the camera but was interrupted by the countess:

"Please come to me, Lieutenant," she chanted affectionately, smiling sweetly.

Soon a young man in a charcoal-black SS uniform appeared in the camera's field of vision.

"Tell me, Lieutenant, did they teach you the part of the law about the Great Houses of Tail and their liberties at the Academy?" she asked, flashing a charming smile.

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"Then you must be aware," Daim Esta continued smiling absently, twisting a button near the collar on the lieutenant's uniform. "That despite the witty legal loophole your office has found, the Grand House Guards, like the nobility, are outside the jurisdiction of the Imperial Security Service... Well, Lieutenant, what do you think would happen to you if I were to complain to the Emperor at my next meeting about a violation of the freedoms of the nobility by an SS Lieutenant? By the way, confirmed personally by His Majesty? Guarding a very distant asteroid or going straight to the disciplinary section?"

The Lieutenant swallowed frantically and opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, Countess Durlurl surprisingly, for her submissive build, suddenly tugged at his collar. Her brown eyes were black with anger, and her face was so black with anger. For a moment, Aleix thought that Daim Eesta was about to clutch at his throat:

"So it's in your best interest to make sure I don't remember your name a month from now," she growled in his face." Have I made myself clear enough, Stack Lieutenant Asfi Terger? Do you have the right to conduct an investigation?" She inquired, a ring of ice in her voice, and without waiting for an answer, she brought her free hand crashing down on the table, causing everyone to wince in surprise:

"Well, then investigate!" raised her voice to a shout from Esta. "But remember, this is where I decide who talks to whom and when!"

She was silent for a moment, and after taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued in an angry whisper:

"And if those present continue to be inappropriate, I may be tempted to express my displeasure in other ways. And then it won't be up to the disciplinary section."

Countess Durlurl released the Lieutenant's collar. He immediately recoiled, squinting frightened at her, and began frantically tidying up his uniform.

"So please, Lieutenant," Esta's face brightened, and she smiled charmingly. "Don't interrupt - it makes me very angry."

"Yes..." Alex gradually withdrew from the scene. "The ability to work with people.is God's level."

The lieutenant mumbled something unintelligible and retreated to somewhere outside the camera's field of vision. And Countess's attention shifted to Taer, who, after the scene had played out, sat as quietly as possible, without any indication of her presence:

"Taer, sweetheart, sorry to keep you waiting, we're in grief..." she said in a ringing voice, giving Taer a sweet smile.

"Grief? What happened, your ladyship?"

"Twelve hours ago, the Ruling Lord of House Melato died," Esta sighed sadly.

"Oh...", said Taer, dumbfounded by what was happening.

"Yes, a grievous loss," the Countess said. "He was shot dead with a bullet gun. And, imagine, the Melatians think they have found the killers. Or rather, their bodies. Because they died in a skirmish with the guardsmen. Yes... And all three of them were carrying House Fyren's retainer medallions. And they turned out to be our retainers who disappeared on Tallana a week ago."

"But that's absurd!" Taer exhaled. "Why bring medallions with them?"

"I'm glad you understand me!" Esta smiled happily. "But unfortunately, our friends in the Imperial Security Service..." she paused, eyeing the button torn off the lieutenant with interest. "...Yes, our friends think otherwise. And they have found one legal loophole that allows them," her lips curled, and she spat out. "Investigate. And now they're literally everywhere, even in my office, getting in the way. We have, of course, already sent our complaint to the Emperor and the Imperial High Tribunal, but since the Imperial Navy has refused to allow us to use the zero-communication systems, it will be a couple of days before the message reaches the capital... Yes... So what did you call?"

Taër hesitated for a moment, probably wondering what to say, but then she answered immediately:

"There has been another attempt on Lord Cassard's life, and I wanted to ask for your assistance in transferring some Guardsmen to the Lord's Arm."

"Yes, I have already been informed of this distressing incident," the Countess nodded. "Well, send me the names, and I'll arrange for a transfer."

"Thank you for your help, Your Ladyship! I'll send you the names later," Taer nodded to Esta and disconnected.

"You know, I don't think we can count on Countess Durlurl's help for the next week. The shadows there know what's going on! It's unlikely she'll be able to deal with Lord Velaske and the Professor before she gets rid of the SS watchdogs."

"Well, that's not our only option. You know, I've been missing Isalaya for a while now. I think I should go see her as soon as possible."

* * *​
 
Chapter 19
Chapter 19

* * *​

Great shadows, how things have changed. Vimo Derbal wondered in his mind as he walked leisurely towards the sanctum sanctorum of the Imperial Intelligence Headquarters.

The long corridor was perfectly clean and perfectly empty. The sound of footsteps echoed off the marble slabs of the floor and bounced off the walls, echoing somewhere in the dark height of the ceiling. The walls of black stone with golden veins were slightly sloped inward, giving a kind of unerring monumentality to the situation. Every ten steps, the wall's mirrored surface interrupted to form wide darkened niches. Some of them had doors leading into offices, and some of them stood guard like statues. Six years ago, the last time Vimo had been in the office, the corridor was crowded with people, someone eating something, someone discussing something, and the atmosphere was much simpler.

You were also six years younger, the ladies of the capital were still crazy about officers, and the Old Man was in charge... he grinned absently, glancing absently at his reflection in the mirror-polished wall surface.

There, a tall, fair-haired man, in his "mature age", was walking with a confident gait. He wore the snow-white uniform of a senior naval officer, and on his sleeve glinted a metallic insignia: three stylized intersecting vectors connected by a circle, indicating his affiliation to the Imperial Intelligence Service. A gold epaulet on his right shoulder and an axel band with a sword suspended from it indicated that he was a full Sain Major in Imperial Intelligence.

"Do you have an appointment?" Cautiously asked a young blonde with the shoulder straps of a Stack Cadet as Vimo approached her desk at the end of the corridor.

"I think so." He smiled. "Sain Major Vimo Derbal."

"О! You are expected, Mr. Sain Major." The girl stepped out from behind the desk and opened the massive double doors with a touch of the test unit, making an inviting gesture. "Please follow me."

Artie's always been exceptionally good at arranging things, thought the sain major thoughtfully as he watched the blonde's "stern," who was strutting ahead, her pretty heeled feet in clear contradiction to the formal regulations.

The small corridor, designed in soft golden colors, ended with a single door with a golden sign: 'Head of the Fourth Department, Artul Traveri'. The girl knocked briefly and opened the door in front of him.

"Sain Major Vimo Derbal, Sir." The pretty guide announced him, stretching out at attention.

"Thank you, Stack Cadet, you are dismissed." said the Ergo Captain, seated at the massive, wide aryat table. He too was wearing a white ceremonial uniform. His narrow face, with its predatory eagle nose, was earnest, his dark hair slightly touched with a white dusting of gray, and his light brown eyes gazed fixedly at the entrant. But as soon as the door was closed behind her, all seriousness vanished from the master of the office:

"Vim, you scorched face," the Ergo Captain threw himself into a hug, "it's a long time since I've seen you, a demon..."

Vimo, ignoring his friend's rhetorical question, hugged him silently. If you've served two years on advanced reconnaissance ships without taking your spacesuit off for months at a time. Because on scouts, there is no bio-defense field. And your only entertainment is to communicate with your partner, who as well as you, is locked in a cramped dark chamber of the cabin for the next couple of months, then you either become best friends for life or will hate each other. The latter happened a lot more often than the former. But he and Artie became best friends, and when the "Old Man" set up a reconnaissance unit from scratch and invited Stack Captain Artul there, he "dragged" his friend Vimo Derbal after him.

"I see you've got yourself settled in." Vim grinned meaningfully, nodding towards the door behind which the pretty stack cadet had disappeared.

"Oh, don't remind me..." Artie sighed sadly and pointed to one of the chairs. Can I get you something to drink?

"Well, I'm sort of on holiday," he shrugged, "so I won't say no. Why are you sighing? Girl's a..."

"I'm scared of her at all." Artie declared, taking out glasses and a bottle of dark yellow glass from the mini-bar. He sat down in the opposite chair and poured the amber liquid over the glasses. "She's the boss's niece, so no affairs... And I'm not cut out for a serious relationship."

"What boss?" Vim wondered, taking a sip from his glass and feeling the thick, slightly tart liquid with a soft honey tone melt into his mouth:

"It's Bentar's Dew..." Vim exhaled in admiration and raised his glass to the light. "Your salary seems to be in line with rumors about it."

"It's from an untouchable and carefully saved for an occasion like this." Artie smiled slyly. "And which boss's niece... Admiral Durav, of course, the Old Man had no nieces."

Vim shrugged indifferently and took another sip. He frankly didn't like the new 'Chief' even though all their communication had been reduced to a dozen comm talks. Admiral Asunho Durav had succeeded "The Old Man" as head of Imperial Intelligence, who had retired four decades ago due to his advanced age. One hundred and eight years old was certainly not a small age from any angle, but the "Old Man" was as strong as the frontal armor of an attack cruiser and lived up to his job. In any case, Their Imperial Majesty knows best... And the "Old man", when Vim visited him, didn't seem particularly upset by his retirement. But the one who replaced him... Frankly speaking, everyone thought that the new chief would be Artie, who was the right hand of the "Old Man". But instead, the Emperor put Admiral Durav, from Vim's point of view a rather dumb soldier, in charge of Intelligence. Especially since he's from the fleet's line forces and has the faintest idea about intelligence. And if only the admiral had been quietly enjoying the privileges and "shining" in society, leaving all the real work to the deputies. But no, he wanted to command...

"And then count the Bentar Dew as an advance for your next assignment." Artie broke the silence.

"You must want me dead if you have to give me Bentar's dew before the mission."

"Have you heard about the Lord Director...?" Instead of answering the question, Artie asked.

Being in the capital and not hearing about the death of Lord Director of Imperial Security Renis Teito as a result of the shuttle disaster was almost impossible. Absolutely all the holo channels and all the news lines of the com networks were full of it. "Tragic accident that cut short the life of a great man". The shuttle exploded on an 'aggressive' landing, a power shield failure, and a minor disturbance in the outer shell on a normal glide path and speed would not have led to disaster. But Lord Teito didn't like to wait - that's what ruined him. Of course, there were theories of an anti-imperial alliance assassination. But Vim didn't believe that; he was familiar enough with the way the Lord Director was guarded. No, the rebels don't have the arms for that sort of thing...

"You want me to take over this investigation?" Vim almost choked on his wine. He didn't want to become "guilty beforehand" by taking on a clearly failed case. And the attention to the results would be the most intense.

"No, you didn't." Artie shook his head. "I was at the Chief's today. He's furious. You wouldn't believe it. He even yelled at me. Intelligence and Security are not going to look into this. The investigation has been entrusted to the Emperor's Shadows."

Wow. Vim was surprised in his mind. Either the Emperor decided to show the highest degree of displeasure with Intelligence and SS. Or he really believes that the death of the head of the Security Service is not accidental. He was about to open his mouth to share the thought with his friend when he noticed that here staring intently into his eyes, making a circular motion with his index finger. That was how they signified that they were being eavesdropped on.

"That's how..." he muttered aloud, looking questioningly at his friend. I wonder who has the nerve to eavesdrop on the Head of the Fourth Department in his own office? The new 'Chief' might well be looking out for an overly talented deputy... Or maybe we should look higher. The Emperor's doubts engendered by the death of the Lord Director may well have found material embodiment...

"That's the way it is..." Still nodded gravely Artie. "By the way are you aware of the Astrese rumors?"

"No. What about the rumors?" Asked Vim in a very calm voice, remembering that when he had visited the "Old Man", he had also remembered the court adept Astreus, who was still alive at the time. Suddenly he asked if he - Vimo - had ever thought of resigning because: "It's about time, son." He took it as a joke at the time.

"I don't know anything myself." Artie sighed, emphasizing the word "anything." "They say he made some kind of prediction before he died. But in my opinion, that's nothing more than idle gossip; the death of an adept is always a mystery in the eyes of the court drollers."

Vim shrugged, letting his friend decide what to say out loud and where to hint, and went for a cigarette - prayer always helped him to concentrate.

"So what's this appointment that's got me kicked out of my cozy military attaché's job at the Sociara Mission, and now they're giving me Bentar Dew?" he asked, holding out a second cigarette to Artie.

"Well, you know I'm not religious, unlike you." He started to object but still took a cigarette. It was their old ritual. He always refused first and then smoked one with him.

"The flames are ready to receive all." Vim grinned, giving his friend a light. "Yes, and the Lord Director, it is worth remembering, though he was a scum he knew his job well. May the Patroness watch over his soul."

"Let her keep it..." Artie agreed, inhaling. He let out a puff of smoke and suddenly coughed heavily:

"I think I've had enough of this stuff." He said in a slightly husky voice, handing the lighter back. "How do you keep it up... One word fanatics."

"It's all about constant training. So what about the appointment?"

Artie grimaced like a toothache and took another puff:

"Eight days ago, we had a group missing in the Tail Sector." He reported in an even huskier voice and took a big sip from his glass."And there's something murky going on. I don't know what."

"Sector Tail..." said Vim. "It's a delicate matter, and I don't know much about their cuisine. I'd get embarrassed. Or mix up the Lordship with the Grace, and there'd be a political scandal."

"Don't insult your superior." Artie sighed wearily. "I understand all that... And that it's impossible to work there. I know. I'd rather stick my dick in a beehive with a pearly wasp than work with the local aristocracy. But there's no one else. They're all dumb kids. They only know how to push straight ahead, waving their IDs like some SS."

"There seemed to be a confidante there specifically for this purpose."

"I'm afraid the confidant has a vested interest in the muddle that's gone up in Tail's Sector. That's why we need someone on the outside. Besides, you're a Fire Worshiper, so you can visit the shrines as well."

"Fire worshippers." Vim grimaced. "Don't say that in a public place, Mr. Ergo-Captain, or there might be a scandal. "Servants of Ryane," or "Secondarist" at the very least. And from the Fire Throne's point of view, I'm a heretic, so I can't go there."

"The main thing is not to tell His Purity "Guardian of the Fire" your original theory, and you can visit the shrines all right. And as for the name, the shadows will sort you out. I was recently persuaded by the protocol department that the correct name to call them is "Ir'Ryanists".

"Look, Artie, let's be serious. What kind of field agent am I? I'm not so young anymore. I can't remember the last time I was in the field. For the last six years, I've been working with Sociara's top brass."

"Let's be serious." He nodded. "Did I say anything about a field agent? No. You're going there officially. And age... ...forty-four is the prime of your life, don't be so humble."

"Officially?" raised an eyebrow at Vim. "In what capacity?"

"As an Imperial Investigator. There was a very successful attempt to poison a lord of the empire. The High Tribunal has already sent a request for an investigation."

"I thought the Emperor preferred not to get involved in the family conflicts of the Great Houses."

"And now he decided to intervene." Artie put his hands together with a sarcastic grin. "And then I wouldn't be surprised if this assassination attempt is connected to that mudslinging going on in the Sector. There's something going on out there. I need someone to listen to what the stars are whispering about. Do you understand me? Someone reliable and experienced. It has to be you." He said, underlining "you" in his voice.

Vim silently folded his arms and thought about what Artie wanted to tell him:

Me, exactly? And what's the significance of an old friend, Sain Major Vimo Derbal? Because he's a friend. Vim answered himself but immediately dismissed the option. The head of the Fourth Department must have an ass instead of a head if he has no other confidants. Friendly connections were out of the question. He had spent the last six years outside the Empire in the capital of the Sociara Union, playing the game of 'I know you know I know...'. It certainly gave him a certain amount of experience. And that experience told him that in aristocratic society almost everything was defined by title and connections. And he had neither. Titles went mostly to brave naval captains and pilots, with a little extra for the army. And almost never for Intelligence or SS, that was the unspoken order. And connections... He had no connections, even though the Court was teeming with aristocrats from Tail's Sector.

It's hard to make connections when you're nearly two decades from the capital... Vim thought jovially and froze. That's it! I have no connections there, but no one in Tail's Sector has any connections with me either, and he can be sure of that. He doesn't know that about anyone else.

"All right," he said aloud, "but what am I going to do there, without people, without resources..."

"You will have the widest possible powers. All local groups will be temporarily subordinated to you." With a broad smile, Artie assured him, "If anything, involve the confidant's men, but with some caution."

"What's the deal with this lord anyway..." Vim began but was interrupted by Artie:

"Here is all the information you need," he declared, holding out the two info sticks. "And as for the lord, of course, the criminals who have plotted against the illustrious prince and lord of the empire are highly desirable to be found. If you do, it won't stick with me - you know me. And if not, then no..."

"When do I leave?" queried Vim unhappily.

"The sooner - the better." Artie shook his hands regretfully, "A courier is waiting for you in orbit. So as soon as you get the investigator's paperwork and all that bureaucracy, you'll be on your way. The deadline is tomorrow."

"Oh, damn. And I thought I'd have time to get out with you on the hunt..."

"You know," Artie sighed, a pained look in his eyes. "I think it's for the best that you're leaving now. When you get back, you and I are going to have a blast..."

They chatted about the past for about an hour, and then Vimo started to leave. He decided to leave today. He had nothing special to do in the capital, only minor bureaucratic matters, and to pick up the still unpacked suitcases from the service flat. So six hours later, he was aboard an imperial intelligence courier ship. Putting his Infoblock on the narrow table in the corner of his quarters, Vim began to change his clothes. He replaced the ceremonial uniform with a large slanted sociarian dressing gown, sat down at the table, and inserted the first rod. The infobox beeped grudgingly and asked for a personal code and confirmation of identity. Five minutes later, when the security measures had finally been overcome, it became clear that the information on both rods was the same. This was obvious stupidity:

Artie couldn't have slipped me two identical sticks, thought Vim, frustrated, checking the data once more they were exactly the same. He pulled out both rods - they looked identical. Acting on a hunch, he tried to unscrew one first and then the other. The second stick gave way - the head clicked, opening the hiding place - three white pills and a note rolled up into a tube fell out on the table.

Hope this helps you mate.

Vim picked up one of the tablets and held it up to the lamp - the white surface under the light was clearly pearlescent - "Rainbow".

I wonder how many regulations, acts, and laws Artie has broken, he thought unhappily as he looked at the iridescent iridescence on the surface of the pill. The Rainbow allowed the most ordinary person to become almost an adept for a while - he developed the strongest empathy, intuition increased manifold, a "sense of danger" appeared, and what happened to the full-fledged adepts who took the Rainbow... That's why the usage of the Rainbow was strictly regulated - it was nothing to say. Each usage required permission from the First Inquisitor or an edict from the Emperor. Vim took Rainbow just once, during a training course on the use of "medications of the third class and above". The dose was about a quarter of a tablet, but he had had enough of it...

Why did he give them to me? And in violation of official procedure. Artie must have known how I felt about that stuff. I wouldn't eat rainbow voluntarily unless I was desperate. Vim's first impulse was to throw the pills in the incinerator. In front of him on the table was not only the sure end of his career but three higher sentences all at once. But thinking about it, with a heavy sigh, he shoved the pills back into the stash. And for what shadows I have been ripped from Sociara? Mentally he groaned, opening his record collection folder and hiding the stick, among hundreds of others. I liked it so much there, snooping quietly. The Sociars pretended they didn't know what the First Attache was up to, I pretended I didn't know what they knew. I went to my appointments and in my spare time, I collected materials on the Church of the Flame... Easy.

He looked regretfully at the bundle of sticks with unstructured information on the ancient period of the "Ryan Service " and sighed heavily, tossing them back into the folder. He had a mountain of analyses and reports from groups in the Tail Sector to read.

After four days of sitting in his quarters and vigil in front of the terminal, the courier ship arrived at Tallana, home to the main base of the army, the navy, and, in addition, the sector office of imperial intelligence. They were already waiting for him, a stack captain in a white senior naval officer's uniform, and two attendants in navy blue, stretched at attention across the gangway. Judging by the somewhat nervous faces of those greeting him, there was a wave of "pep" coming from the head of the Fourth Department, or maybe someone higher.

"Welcome to Fortress Forizet, Mr. Plenipotentiary Investigator." The stack captain began as Vim stepped off the ramp onto the springy, mirror-finished silkscreened flooring of the station's enormous ramp field. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Stack Captain Greg Tundali, head of local Imperial Intelligence," he said, holding out his hand. He was in his early thirties and already head of a sector office - a fine career for such an age. His dark hair and brown eyes gave off an aristocratic breed, and his skin was as pale as anyone who lived on the stations. The stout and trim stack captain didn't look like a "staff bug". He must have transferred from the navy.

After exchanging greetings with Captain Tundali, Vim politely declined the offer to go to his assigned rest quarters:

"Actually, I would prefer to get straight to the point."

"Oh, well, I guess we'd better head for the office." Proposed Tundali, pointing towards the exit of the access field.

The station area allocated for Intelligence purposes was not too far from the outer perimeter, so ten minutes later, Vim was sitting in the stack captain's office, tastefully furnished by the way, and sipping the taymar brought by a rarely pretty assistant. Looks like in the six years I've been on Sociara, there's a fashion in intelligence for pretty female stack cadets. Unfortunately, minus the setting and the assistant, there was nothing else Captain Tundali could please him with:

"Is it really that bad?" With a slight skepticism in his voice, Sain Major Vimo asked his interlocutor. When it turned out that the whole "unofficial" part of the management, i.e. field groups, agents, and informants, was run by a Confidante:

"Admittedly, I thought the Tallana department had its own, independent of the confidant, agents among the Great Houses. The lack of direct channels could adversely affect the quality of information." He added.

"Here on Tallana, and on the Free Worlds, we have our own informants." Dullly sighed the stack captain. In the realms of the Great Houses, we have men where it is critical, in the Shipyards and in the Fleet. For the rest, we have to rely on the Confidante.

"Is someone in the leadership of the Guard cooperating with us?" Vim raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, the higher ranks were from the aristocracy, and they were all connected in one way or another and might know something.

"Oh, no, sadly not." sighed Tundali. "It's mostly junior technicians and dock workers. The guardsmen are hard to work with, House pays them an awful lot, and our funds are very limited. No way to pressure them either. They hide behind immunity. With aristocrats, it is even more difficult. They are quite a closed society - just establishing acquaintance is already a big problem." He shook his hands. "That is why we have to rely on the help of a confidant in many things that concern the higher circles."

"So you have nothing to add to what I've already read in the reports?"

"Quite the contrary." protested the Stack Captain. "There was a second attempt on Lord Cassard's life eight hours ago." He pulled two info sticks out of his desk drawer and handed them to Vim. "Here is the report of the initial investigation and a note from our analysts on the current situation."

"Well, thank you. Were your people in charge of the investigation?"

"No, sir. This is a copy of what the SS sent us. Also, the House people are investigating, we have certain arrangements with them, and they keep us informed."

Vim's eyebrows crept up: "So no one from intelligence is doing it?"

"Confidant is keeping a close eye on the case." Seeing the disgruntled grimace on the face of the `authorized investigator', Captain Tundali hastily added:

"I only have a hundred and forty people, sir." He again sadly shook his hands, "Thirty of them are analysts, and another twenty are technicians. And there are eight Great Houses in the Sector, not to mention the Free Worlds. We just can't keep up everywhere."

Vim frowned thoughtfully and twirled the sticks in his hands; he didn't like the situation at all:

"OK, can you outline the situation in your own words? Briefly."

"In a nutshell. It's a shit situation." Tundali admitted. "The latest attempt on Lord Cassard's life, not at all like a family squabble within the House, he was fired upon by an HGM. This kind of cavalierness is possible when no one thinks of the consequences. Our informants and hyperspace intelligence ships report active movement by Great Houses Fyron and Kilret fleets, and ships are moving into the border zone near Istar. Analysts believe there may be an armed conflict, and the killing of Lord Cassard is a distraction."

"And what does the Confidant think about this?"

Confidant agrees with the analysts in the sense that we are dealing with a conflict between Houses. But he believes the conflict will not be military but more political between Melato and Bentar, and Lord Cassard's murder is a means of keeping House Fyron busy with an internal squabble and knocking the ground out from under the feet of the pro-Fyron party in Bentar's Privy Council.

"Well, at least it makes more sense than House Kilert attacking Fyron," chuckled Vim, "as I recall the Fyron fleet being twice as large."

"The Analytical Department believes that Fyron, not Kilret, is the firestarter of the aggression."

"What's the point for them?"

Tundali shrugged slightly absent-mindedly: "A preemptive strike. There's too much friction between them. Kilreatz is sitting on the only access to Tallana and is strangling the Fyron trade with duties. Right now, the Kilreatz fleet consists of eight battlecruisers though, they call them 'antipiracy frigates,'" Tundali added with a grin, "and is supported by a hundred fighters and two light aircraft carriers that aren't exactly LPCs. Lady Baala is well aware that Fyron's fleet is much stronger, so they're building ten more strike cruisers and two more light aircraft carriers at the Tallana shipyard on behalf of Kilreatz. They will be ready in a year. Eighteen strike cruisers and four aircraft carriers are a serious force, plus four strike cruisers from their ally House Peltar. In addition, the Peltars are actively trying to repair their flagship, and if they succeed, they will also have a Heavy Cruiser. In principle, this will be enough power for Fyron to give up the idea of going directly to 'deep space'. Given the rumors of negotiations between House Kilretz and the Melatians, the balance of power may be tangibly shifting and not in Fyron's favor."

"That's why they decide to attack now." There was a distinct hesitation in Vim's voice. "Despite the fact that an attack would incur the Emperor's wrath. And at the same time, trying to kill one of their lords, knowing that this could cause incredible internal feuding, perhaps even a war between the clans."

"Well, they may not act so overtly. Analysts think they will provoke the Kilretz in some way. Perhaps, the attacks on Lord Cassard have something to do with it. Also, they don't have to invade and start a full-scale war. Perhaps, it will come down to a quick border conflict in which most of House Kilretz's fleet will be destroyed. As for Lord Cassard - he's not dead after all, so maybe they didn't want to kill him.

"So he didn't die?" Vim wondered. "After being hit by an HGM?"

"He's as lucky as an ascended." smiled the stack captain. "He doesn't have a scratch on him. Perhaps the assassination attempt was nothing more than an act. At least that's what our analysis department thinks, and that's what the report says."

"I'll be sure to familiarize myself with it." Nodded Vim, sinking into unhappy thoughts. This assignment had smelled bad from the start, but now it was beginning to stink. Luckily, he was formally sent here to investigate an assassination attempt, and the potential war was not on his conscience.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Sain Major?" Tundali asked cautiously

Yes. Do you know if the Navy has any plans for what's going on? If I were the Navy, I'd be unobtrusively conducting exercises as close to Istar as possible by now.

"As far as I know, none. Almost the entire Sector fleet, at the request of the Senate, has now gone to Alira to fight the pirates. And even if Admiral Felcherev is ordered to return right now, his ships won't be at Istar for another ten days. Tallana has five KSCs left, but three of them are undergoing maintenance, and the ships are not fully operational."

"What a lucky coincidence." smiled sarcastically Vim, who had long been able to see that most lucky coincidences are carefully orchestrated.

"It's too lucky." Tundali agreed.

"Well, we'll work with what we've got." Vim slapped his knee and stood up. "I'd like to see a list of your most intelligent operatives and arrange for me to meet with a confidant."

"All right, Mr. Sain Major, the list will be ready in about ten minutes. But arranging a meeting with the confidant is somewhat difficult given the signal delay, we won't be able to contact him for at least three hours."

"Well," sighed Vim, "then I'll go back to my room and read the data you gave me," he waved the info sticks he had received, shoved them into the folder, and headed for the exit. Captain Tundali hurried after him:

"Not to be indelicate, Mr. Sain Major, but how long do you plan to stay on Tallana?"

"That depends on how quickly you can get me a meeting with an intruder." Vim shrugged. "After what I've learned, I don't see much point in sticking around."

A shadow of relief slid across the Stack Captain's face.

"We will make every effort to ensure this meeting can take place as early as possible. And I would be very grateful if you would agree to our guards if you decide to visit the planet or the commercial stations."

Vim raised his eyebrows in surprise, not that he planned to visit the planet, but..:

"I thought Tallana was quite loyal."

"As a matter of fact, it is, sir. But there's a thing..." Tundali wrinkled his nose as if he'd eaten something sour. "There's been a recording of a group of men dressed in imperial uniforms raping three female students at the University of Tallana. Experts believe the footage is most likely authentic. Testimony from the students also confirms it."

"Rape?" He did not hide his astonishment and asked Vim. He had served in the navy for six years but had never heard of rape. Theft, drunken brawls and assaults, and drugs were common offenses among the crews, but not rape. The majority preferred to 'grind iron' by using droids, and although ship psychologists saw this as a potential problem, most sane captains did not discourage the practice.

"In addition to the Sector's main naval base, we also have the army's main base here. More than a million young men - such excesses are inevitable even from a statistical point of view."

"What's the army's shortage of appropriate droids? Also, as I recall, there are usually certain kinds of establishments associated with the bases, with which the command usually establishes certain arrangements."

"Such activities are forbidden on Tallana. And 'appropriate' droids have been banned under the new army regulations."

"Why?" Have they all gone insane over there?

"Ergo Captain Astalia Thalerd thinks they have a corrosive effect on discipline."

Vim shook his head sympathetically; he was suspicious of the abundance of women in the army leadership, and such idiocy in the regulations, he thought, only confirmed his doubts:

"Then one is surprised that only three people were raped."

"Actually, it's happened before," Tundali confessed. "It's just that we usually manage to find the culprits quickly, and keep the story from escalating."

"What about now? Have the culprits been found?"

"Unfortunately, no sir," Tundali sighed. "The bastards were smart enough to use condoms, and the footage doesn't show faces. That's why we couldn't find them quickly, and that's why rumors started flying that we were harboring criminals."

"Yeah, it's a nasty story," agreed Vim.

"Even nastier, sir. After the footage went viral, a large group of drunken students attacked four paratroopers on leave, probably for revenge. One of the soldiers had a gun on him. He shot four of them and wounded three others."

"Since when is it allowed to go on leave with a gun?"

"It wasn't a regular weapon." The stack captain shook his head negatively. "He owned the blaster on general civil rights and took it with him on leave."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that possibility. Has he been punished yet?"

"No sir, the tribunal found no crime. The students attacked first. He acted in self-defense. The local Holo-V people made a big story out of it. We tried to intervene, but you know this damn Sector has such privileges..."

Yes, privileges Vim agreed mentally - including the absence of an imperial censor board on the holo. And financial tools didn't work on a journalist drunk on potential fame.

"We failed to impose a censor's ban. .." The stack captain went on with the frankness of a man who has finally found someone ready to listen to his sorrows. "We tried to negotiate differently, using other means. You see..." He looked at Vim to make sure he understood what he meant and continue after the nod. "Well, students have always been the most unreliable public, and after the report of the results of the trial, they just exploded. A crowd of about a hundred thousand marched to the imperial office, demanding that the criminals are handed over and the garrisons and bases are removed from Tallana. For a while, they were just making noise, but then they began shouting political demands and insulting the Emperor. Someone in the crowd fired a blaster at the guard of honor at the imperial standard, and the crowd tried to tear it down."

And the guards, according to the imperial order 'On defending the honor of the flag', opened fire with live fire on the crowd. Vim added mentally, mechanically taking a cigarette out of his pocket. What was happening was a carefully orchestrated provocation, where a mob of teenagers had done exactly what they were supposed to do. Guards had no choice, caught between the rampaging and armed student soldiers and the direct command of the Imperial order to use their weapons if the flag was endangered. The fact that the guards were not accused of anything only served to inflame resentment even more

He took out his lighter and lit it thoughtfully. The stream of thought instantly curled into a thin grey bundle and disappeared into the hood: Oh, I guess someone decided to please Ryan with a decent shot, damn.

"By the time the police bots arrived with their heavy stun guns, there had been sixty-five casualties among the guards and about a thousand casualties among the demonstrators. So it's not safe to be alone on the planet or the commercial stations," Tundali finished his story with an odd squint at his cigarette.

For some time now, the SS has deemed "servants of Ryan to be politically unreliable".

Vim grinned and somewhat defiantly took another puff. Looks like the new generation of intelligence officers have the same shit in their heads as the SS.

"Well, thanks for the warning, Captain." He said aloud. "Anyway, I still need at least four operatives, so find someone who's a little more subtle but in a way that won't cause too much damage to your investigation. And get me someone who can get me into the local communications center" I need to speak to Artie right away.

The pretty assistant of the stack captain escorted him to the communicators' fiefdom, where the glint of the Sain Major's epaulets and the phrase 'plenipotentiary investigator' quickly made his way to the instant communication units. But it was unfortunately not possible to speak to Artie, his secretary, flapping her long eyelashes, reported that: "Mr. Ergo-Captain has been summoned to the palace, and it is not known when he will return." So Vim confined himself to a quick report to the head of the Fourth Department, expecting Artie to contact him after watching the video.

He spent the next two hours studying the material given to him by Stack Captain Tundali until he was interrupted by the appearance of the captain in the flesh. It turned out that a meeting with the confidant could be arranged in as little as eight hours, but he needed to leave right away for that. So after an hour, Vim showed the droid where to put his suitcases, in the cabin of a small transport, with the emblem of some holo channel on board. A more conspicuous and therefore less suitable courier had to leave later, together with Vim's selected operatives.

Confident met him aboard a luxury yacht that was waiting for them near the Copeira jumping area.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sain Major." She held out her hand to him, temporarily throwing Vim into a stupor as he frantically remembered whether it was customary to kiss or shake in the Tail Sector. "I am Lady Lakita Asta, a Confidante of Imperial Intelligence in Sector Tail." The confidante had a velvety enveloping voice, huge blue eyes, a wide smile with charming dimples, and the appearance of a girl of about twenty-five. A long snow-white dress and an equally snow-white mantle of long furs accentuated the jet-black color of her hair, which fell in a brilliant waterfall over her shoulders.

"Likewise, lady," replied Vim, kissing her hand. Judging by the smile, it was the right thing to do.

"I take it you are here to investigate the attempted assassination of Lord Cassard?" She asked, gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs and calling for a servant with refreshments.

"That's right." He replied as he waited for the servant to leave them alone. "And I'm counting on your help."

"All my powers are at your service." She smiled brightly. "What kind of help do you need?"

"For starters, information - what exactly do you know?"

"I have set out almost everything I know in my note on the subject. I think you've already read it. There's not much to add." She raised her eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling and leaned back in her chair, the slit in her dress sliding to the side, revealing a view of her mind-boggling legs.

Vim, who always had a weakness for blue-eyed brunettes, averted his eyes from her legs, constantly reminding himself that he was here to do business and Lady Lakita was not only five years older than him but married to the Deputy Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Kerith Dunnir-Asta.

"Perhaps the fact that he's been spending more time with his third cousin Baroness Kayrin Rionale lately, though they didn't get along before." Lady Asta continued, breaking her thoughtful silence. "There are rumors that they are having an affair, but I know for a fact that Lord Cassard continues to maintain a relationship with his old mistress and is not hiding that relationship from Kayrin. I think this is no more than a visible part of the alliance with the Rionale Family - but that is only a guess. It is also said that Lord Cassard is becoming increasingly reliant, and one might even say dependent, on his security specialist Taer Diltar. In my opinion, it is true and even natural." She smiled brightly again. "After all, he has lost his memory and is completely helpless."

"Who do you think is behind the assassination attempts?"

"I wrote about it in a note." Lakita sighed, taking a sip from her soap-bubble-thin glass. "I believe House Melato is behind this; they have much to lose by the alliance between Fyron and Bentar. They have the support of pro-Melato circles within House Bentar, as well as those who want to be able to elect the next ruling lord, hence the Bentar trail in the second assassination attempt. These forces have clearly found common ground. I think it will end with the physical removal of the current ruling lady and the election of a new pro-Melat ruling lord. Fyron can stop that from happening. So by killing Lord Cassard, they will have shot two finches at once - Fyron will be busy with internal wrangling, and the pro-Fyron party will lose their main trump card - the alliance through marriage to Cassard."

"Do you know the specific people behind it, too?" Vim asked cautiously.

Lady Lakita made a disgruntled grimace: "Unfortunately, only on the Bentar side, and they are clearly the doers, not the authors of the idea."

"Is there nothing else you can do for me? I was sure that such a trusted confidant, who is also an intelligent and perceptive but no less beautiful woman, clearly knew something that the Imperial Intelligence Service did not know."

Lakita met his awkward attempt with a cold look in her piercing blue eyes. She stared at him for a while, probably trying to understand how serious he was, and then laughed out loud:

"Major, you're an obnoxious flatterer. You can't do that. I can help you with something, though." She reached out a hand toward the small transparent table between the chairs, and under her palm flashed icons of the hidden info-block or cluster, and a huge screen wove itself into the center of the room. "Well, I thought of saving it for myself. But since I'm such a trusted confidant." She laughed again. "I'll give it to you."

On the screen, a pretty but tall and broad-shouldered girl dressed in a white uniform similar to his own but with scarlet stitching on the right sleeve was taking a briefcase of money. Judging by the hands of the man, his face was not visible because the camera was somewhere on his chest, probably in a button. The briefcase contained bundles of money but not in creds but in denarii. Vim was ready to swear there were at least a couple of million danarii in there. The girl's face was vaguely familiar:

"Is this by any chance Lord Cassard's security specialist?"

"Exactly." Nodded Lakita. "In fact, she's being bribed here, to the tune of five million danarii for the purchase of a planetary-class shield generator."

"Five million," Vim said involuntarily - the sum was fantastic.

"Yes." Lady Lakita nodded with a smile of understanding, "It seems Lord Cassard's well-known breadth of the heart extends to his Arm as well."

"And where did you get this record from?"

"One manager was caught cheating on military orders for the Empire. And I managed to convince him that cooperation was better than penal servitude."

"Perhaps that's exactly what I needed for a productive visit to Lord Cassard." Vim stretched thoughtfully without taking his eyes off the screen.

* * *​
 
Chapter 20
Chapter 20

* * *​

The flyer ahead flashed sunlight on the silver plating and swerved sharply to the side, flashing a scarlet griffin on the hollow side. Alex craned his neck, glancing over the pilot's shoulder to see what was going on ahead, but at that moment, the engines of their vehicle shrieked and squealed, straps slamming into his shoulders, a sudden jerk which almost resulted in a tongue bite. The flyer tilted, went up, and to the right. In the long narrow window above the head of Taer sitting opposite, the white rectangle of the roof of the horned cargo platform flashed, which seemed to be the reason for the abrupt maneuver.

"I can only imagine how much the Retainer Service will write off after this trip..." she commented, sending back the loose strand.

Alex was about to say what he thought Retainer service was for, but the flyer shook sharply again, and he prudently covered his mouth for fear of losing his tongue.

In the side windows the silhouettes of blurred vehicles whizzed by, some of them able to react to a trio of flyers suddenly appearing in front of them - and the track was rattled by a thunderous howl of sirens. The pilots, when told that "the only thing you have to worry about is the maximum defense of the lord", go crazy. They ended up flying most of the way in some narrow tunnels, among houses, and on-ground equipment tracks, where it appeared flyers were forbidden to fly. At least there were no other flyers in sight - the other machines flew in a dignified manner about half a meter from the grey-steel surface of the track.

Alex glanced at Itori Lieutenant Vodin, who was driving their flyer. He sat unmoving and unblinking, his eyes wide, staring through the windshield, where the scarlet line of the route was winding, and an absent-minded smile wandered across his lips.

I bet it had nothing to do with safety - these maniacs just wanted to drive around town their whole lives, shitting on the rules, Alex thought grudgingly after another jerk caused the fliers to dive into some side tunnel.

Judging by the fact that just a few moments later, a train whizzed underneath at breakneck speed, it was the local underground tunnel.

"Are we sure we won't have too much trouble after this trip?" Alex asked, taking advantage of the fact that the flyers were going through the tunnel without making any sudden maneuvers, so he could speak without fear of biting his tongue.

"No," Taer shook her head. "Diplomatic immunity!" she shouted, trying to break through the howls of the engines that filled the cabin. "As with all high nobles, Copeira is considered neutral territory. The only thing that matters is that there are no casualties."

At this rate, I wonder if there won't be any casualties.

"What happens if we hit someone?"

Taer thought for a moment, raising her eyes to the ceiling:

"A lot of unnecessary noise and unnecessary fuss, but nothing serious," she finally answered. "There might be trouble if we hit a nobleman, but that's unlikely."

How delightful! Alex marveled. The such directness of impunity!

"And what prevents the nobles from racing like this all the time?" he asked aloud.

Taer, who must have had enough of shouting, quickly unbuckled her harness and, in one sliding step, crossed the cabin and sat down next to Alex:

"Clan usually gets in the way," she replied, buckling up. "There's always a lot of noise from races like this, and a young jackass can be pressured by older relatives. For example, by cutting back on the allowance."

"Is it work?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of young people who like to drive, but mostly at night and in deserted areas, so it usually doesn't cause too much trouble for anyone," she added, seeing the disapproving expression on Alex's face. "By the way, you, my lord, used to be a big fan of this kind of entertainment."

"Me?" Alex raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I didn't seem to drive the Flyer myself before the poisoning."

"You used to be a passenger with your close friend Marquise Turang, and she is a big racing fan."

"Good then! Don't worry, I'm sour from lack of sleep," he saw fit to explain. "And I don't really care how anyone has fun."

Taer shrugged and remained silent with a "yeah, and I just said that" look.

On another sharp manoeuvre, the flyer shook. And again. The sky flashed through the narrow window, and the vehicle turned and went upwards, making a steep arc. He felt the weight, like lead, weighing down on his chest and pulling his cheeks up toward his ears. Alex thought he was going dark in his eyes when suddenly it stopped abruptly.

"Can someone explain to me why we're so bent out of shape?" he was relieved that he was no longer squeezed in his chair and could change the uncomfortable subject. "Are there supposed to be compensators, or did they forget to turn them on?"

"This model was originally designed to transport miners and geologists," replied Taer. "They're not the pickiest of people, and they don't do a lot of maneuvering, either. Good compensators are very expensive, so there's a simpler model here - it only works well for one vector, and there's no, or delayed, compensation for the others.

"That's great! I'll have to give the pilots a hint later that I'm excited about them, but I really don't like it when lunch gets to my throat. Is there any way to change the compensator to a more advanced one?"

"It's easier to order a bespoke flyer," the "specialist" sniggered. "The Fyson, for example. But that would take three or four decades, minimum, and we needed the cars right away."

"Got it."

He turned again to the window, where the turquoise waves and the white sandy coastline were glimpsed - they had clearly left the city limits, and, therefore, Marquise Turang's estate was not very far away.

Alex tried to concentrate on his upcoming conversation with Isalaya. The conversation promised to be anything but easy...

So what was it you said about assassins? I could use a couple here.

Even though the motives of the lovely Marquise were clearer to him than, for example, those of Kay... - with women, one could never be entirely sure. He had to decide what to say to his "mistress" and what not to say. And - how to say it. But, as luck would have it, my thoughts were barely moving, my head was throbbing, and my face was slowly starting to burn.

Shit! How long have I been awake?

The last time he slept on the station before Voigrom, they went down to hunt in the afternoon, but it was still morning on the planet. Then there was an assassination attempt and an orbital evacuation, followed by a nine-hour jump to Copeira. As it turned out after landing, it was morning again on Copeira. Now the sun, which left a long golden trail on the surface of the water, was clearly approaching sunset.

I wonder what time it is? Six o'clock?

Alex glanced around the Spartan interior, trying to find anything resembling a clock, but to no avail.

I should get myself a watch or whatever they use here. One can go crazy with these different daily cycles!

He fumbled in his pocket for a jar of Fenote and looked at the light - there was less than half left. The flyer was moving smoothly, so Alex dropped the blue sparkly capsules onto his palm without fear. The capsules were soft and smooth as if made of transparent rubber, and there seemed to be liquid inside. Counting out seven pieces, he popped them into his mouth and chewed them with a thoughtful expression. The pensive expression was instantly replaced by a twisted grimace. His mouth felt like it was bursting with a frozen, wormwood-flavored concoction.

God! It's so disgusting!

"Nasty?" Taer watched Alex's actions with curiosity.

"It's bearable," he replied when the cramp in his cheekbones had finally subsided. "It makes my whole body brighten up, though."

Alex handed the jar to the "specialist", who, judging by her red eyes and staring into the void, could also use a more adequate state of mind.

With this lifestyle, we're both going to be hooked on this thing soon.

Taer, with a silent shrug, took a few capsules and chewed them with the same thoughtful look... with predictable results:

"Great shadows, what an abomination!" she shivered. "Are you sure you have to chew it?"

"No," Alex hummed. "You have to swallow them whole. I was just curious what would happen."

From the look on the "specialist's" face, though she was silent, she clearly thought something obscene about her lord.

"We should get some regular stimulants instead of eating this crap. Maybe it's not good for people who don't have amnesia at all," she finally said.

"Come on, it's perfectly sa..." Alex started to object but was interrupted by the intercom.

"Two minutes to Marquess Turang's estate, my lord," Vodin's quiet voice, thanks to the amplifiers, successfully overrode both the howling engines and the loud conversation. "You asked for a warning. We can give you a couple of tours around the manor if you'd like."

Alex glanced at Taer. After the Fenote, the "specialist" was clearly back to normal, and he felt much better himself:

"Thank you, Rokot, I think we're ready, so you're good to go," Alex almost shouted into the intercom.

The vehicles turned sharply and raced over the narrow canal that connected the coast with the estate without slowing down. The treetops flashed through the side window.

The main thing is that some three-hundred-year-old tree doesn't get torn down again.

A few minutes later, the flyers came to a sudden halt, hovering a palm high off the ground. The side door swung open, flooding the darkened interior with light, and Taer quickly ran a hand through her hair, making sure it wasn't disheveled, undid her restraints, and stepped out first, turning into a blurry white silhouette for a moment - spurred on by the general paranoia of the pilots who had not jammed the landing fields. After giving the 'specialist' a few seconds to look around, Alex came out next.

The small white pearl-like balls that lined the front porch rustled underfoot. A wave of air, lifted by the flyers, swept the cars to a halt, bringing with it gusts of warm wind, leaves plucked from the trees, and the smell of the sea.

After passing through the haze of the protective field, Alex got a chance to look around. The manor appeared to be a two-story house. It was small and probably tiny by local standards.

The ground floor, made of massive and deliberately uneven blocks of reddish stone, flowed seamlessly into the second, made of dark red timber. In places, there were no walls, giving way to huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The wide double doors of the front door were wide open, and in front of them on a wide, almost flat porch lined with huge white slabs, Isalaya and eight guards of honor from her "hand" were already waiting for them.

Isalaya was wearing a white and silver sparkling flowing gown with a high waist and a train. The short sleeves widened sharply at the elbows, turning into two long silvery ribbons that fell to the floor. A wide semi-circular neckline revealed a neck adorned with a chain with massive navy blue jewels, which ended in a bright red sparkling spindle-shaped stone resting on the chest.

"Alex!" Marquise exclaimed anxiously and hurried towards her, the ribbons of her sleeves fluttering in a silvery inversion trail behind her.

Once beside him, Isalaya hugged him impetuously, kissing him on the cheeks at the same time:

"I've already heard about the assassination attempt. That's terrible! Thank the Protectress, you're all right!"

"I'm glad as well," he smiled wryly, looking intently into Isalaya's face.

Her eyes widened and moved in quick jerks as if they were probing Alex's face, her lips twitched slightly and her cheeks flushed slightly. She literally radiated a sincere concern and concern that didn't sit well with her "predatory" features. It gave a rather strange impression.

Kind of like a distraught hawk. And yet her problems with accessing the accounts would disappear with my death.

But it was hard to believe it was just a "play" - she looked so natural and excited.

And insanely beautiful.

And if there's one thing Alex has learned from experience, you have to keep an eye on beautiful women.

Isalaya finally opened her arms and sighed in relief: "I'm sorry," she smiled embarrassedly. "I got so excited. I don't know why. Let's go inside now."

It was very spacious and bright inside - a simple wooden staircase without a banister led up to the first floor, where they ascended, leaving Taer on the ground floor in the company of the guards from Isalaya's Arm.

Alex sent his 'specialist' a look of apology goodbye, she was to be left alone with eight men who might not be treating her well after she'd smashed one of their knees. But taking her along wasn't the best idea either - hiring assassins was to be discussed and how Taer would react to the idea - he didn't know.

On the other hand, the guardsmen don't look aggressive, more like curious, Alex mentally excused himself as he followed Isalaya up the stairs. And Taer has the perfect opportunity to paint a picture of personal heroism during the attack.

"Well, where shall we go?" Marquise asked slyly. "Left or right?"

A wide, slightly rounded, wood-paneled wall ran down the middle, dividing the room into two parts - the right side appeared to be the bedroom (at least there was a huge bed covered with snow-white fluffy skins, patterned rugs on the floor, and a mysterious half-light filled the room), while the left side was filled with the light that came from the two absent walls. Right in the center was a large horseshoe-shaped sofa with a small table in the middle. A huge chandelier, similar to a column of thin triangular crystals, hung from the ceiling almost to the table. The light breeze made the crystals shake slightly, filling the room with a melodious chime.

"I think it's better to the left," Alex waved towards the sofa.

"So you're here on business," Isalaya sighed sadly, gesturing for him to take a seat.

She snapped her fingers and summoned a small holo-terminal that appeared in front of her, at chest level, in a cloud of golden sparks. She pressed a few keys and, with a wave of her hand, made it shatter into a cloud of weightless dust:

"What do you think of my place?" she asked as she sat down across from me.

"Very cozy," Alex admitted sincerely, receiving a grateful smile from Marquise in return. It was the first local space he'd ever visited that wasn't overwhelmingly cyclopean. "And the view is great," he nodded toward the small lagoon on the "inside" side of the manor.

Soon footsteps were heard from the staircase, and two pretty girls in brown shirts and pale knee-length skirts with turquoise aprons, accompanied by a small floating platform laden with various bottles and vases of fruit and snacks, came up to the first floor.

"You know," Isalaya said, eyeing the maids, who remained completely silent as they set the table. "I've been thinking a lot about your memory loss, and I don't think it's such a bad thing. You can see so many beautiful places all over again and so many interesting things to do for the first time. And it's a good reason to know if it was friendship or habit - we can literally get to know each other all over again," she looked intently into his eyes. "If that's what you want."

"How could I mind?" Alex smiled as naturally as possible.

"Do you already know who is behind the attempt on your life?" Isalaya asked after the maids had left, leaving the switched-on suppressor on the table.

Alex took out his mini suppressor and placed it on the table. Marquise raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing.

"Let's just say," Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I have several assumptions, and they seem close to reality to me."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"I don't think it will do any good," he shook his head. "So far, it's nothing more than my thoughts for internal use - it takes a long time to explain, and it's not much use. In short, I think there's another House behind this, something that seems to be connected to a possible marriage to Valerie Bellar."

Isalaya stretched out on the sofa and gave him a skeptical smile as if to say, 'if you don't want then don't talk'.

"All right," she grinned after a moment's hesitation. "What can I do to help?"

"Remember you told me about the so-called 'hired professionals' who should preferably be called off."

"I remember," Isalaya nodded. "Maybe I imagined it, but I think you made it clear that you didn't care."

"In light of what happened, I realized I was wrong," Alex reported with a sad smile. "Could you tell me more about that, who hired them, and how they should be called off."

...Or better yet, redirect.

"Well..." Marquise looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know much. It was you and Dimir. Mostly you. Dimir, through his contacts in the Security Service, found out who was doing this, and you had already negotiated and handed over the money."

"SS?!" Alex was stunned. Are they out of their minds here? "Er... is it safe to involve the SS in this sort of thing?

"No, of course," the shadow of a condescending smile slid across Isalaya's face. "But no one involved the SS - Dimir, thanks to his connections, has had access to very secret SS lists. And they, you know, try to keep an eye on professionals of that kind."

"And what kind of professionals are these?"

"I have no idea. I only know the middleman with whom you negotiated terms and to whom you gave the money. Baroness Istar."

"Er... you mean Lady Faith Baroness Istar?" Alex clarified. Marquess had managed to surprise him twice in one conversation.

"Well, yes," Marquess nodded with an 'it's obvious' look. "As far as I know, there are no other Baronesses Istar."

"It's just that what I've seen doesn't seem to fit with this kind of activity," Alex admitted. Maybe - just a disguise, though? Hiding where it's brighter? "How much money did we give her?"

"Four million danarii and the same amount afterward. Besides, it's not like she's doing this on her own. Despite her conflict with the Shisrodak clan, she still has plenty of connections to the Cartels, and they have specialists of that sort."

"I meant the secrecy," Alex explained. "There's always a crowd of SS around her, and generally speaking, she doesn't seem to be a low-key person."

"You know," Isalaya snickered. "I've never been particularly fond of Lady Faith, but one thing about her is that she's a real noblewoman of the old school. You know, the "four rules of nobility"... Well, she is, and if she's got her word, you can be pretty sure she'll keep a secret. And, then... The SSs only accompany her during public appearances and planet descents. There are none on her ship, and that's where you met."

"I see." Alex had no idea what the 'four rules' were. "And how do you envisage the 'recall' procedure?"

"Very simple. You need to meet Lady Faith again and persuade her to call off the 'specialists'."

"Simple indeed, how I didn't realize it myself," Alex hummed.

He remembered very vividly at that moment the scene of the beating of the journalists. Baroness Istar gave him the impression of an absolute badass.

How, one wonders, is one to negotiate with such a person?

"I'm sure everything will go perfectly." Isalaya reached forward and stroked his arm encouragingly. "After all, it's not like we're going to revoke their payment. You could say they'll get money for not doing the work it sounds like a great deal to me. For them. I can go with you if you like," she added, stretching out on the sofa again.

"I don't think it will have any effect on the negotiations."

Alex watched the play of sunlight on the surface of the waves thoughtfully. He sat like that for a while, then shook himself off and looked at Isalaya more cheerfully, even enthusiastically this time:

"And how do I contact her?"

"I don't know." She smiled back. "Maybe your Office knows? Or Taer, or maybe the data was left in your communicator or in the cluster. All I know is that you've been in contact with her under the guise of gathering information about your ancestors. Although your meetings weren't advertised anyway."

"I see," Alex sighed and got up from the sofa, patting himself on the knee. "We'll keep looking. Anyway, thanks for your help."

"You're welcome." Isalaya got up from the sofa, too. She stepped closer and looked into his eyes. "Alex, are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you?"

"You've already helped me a lot!" he assured her.

She lowered her eyes and ran her hand across his chest with a somewhat distracted expression on her face:

"I want you to know that I'm afraid for you. What if you're unlucky a third time? You can't be lucky all the time, can you? You're not ascended, are you?" She asked, looking into his eyes again with such pain in her eyes and such a pitying expression on her face that Alex's first impulse was to hug her and tell her that he really was "ascended" and that everything would be all right.

"I'll manage," he finally managed to get out. "Everything will be all right."

"Are you sure? After all, I can hide you until things settle down," she smiled sadly. "I'm a big expert at that."

"I'm sure!" Alex nodded as firmly as possible.

Just rebook one lord along with the professor, and all will be well!

He smiled at Isalaya (with what he hoped was a confident smile) and headed for the stairs - he still had to figure out how to contact Lady Faith and convince her to cancel one order. And accept another.

As he approached the 'dividing' wall, something hot came around his back - Isalaya knew how to move completely silently when she wanted to.

"Did you really expect to slip away so easily?" She cooed playfully in my ear. "I've forgotten everything, and I can show you the whole estate all over again."

"Well, I don't even know..." Alex hesitated. "I had hoped to make an appointment for today..."

"I've been planning this all by myself." Isalaya ignored my objections and didn't stop hugging me. "This is my pride, and you're about to leave, and it's not clear if you're coming back! No! I won't let you go so easily!" she said firmly. "For instance..." She turned him toward the bedroom and pointed to the huge bed:"

"You know how fluffy it is..." the huge, predatory cat purred in my ear. "Do you want to flop?"

"Well, unless..." he smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. "Only if it's very quiet, or the evil Taer will come and shoot again."

Isalaya's eyes flashed back at him, and she suddenly but gently pecked him on the ear.

* * *​
 
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