Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Chapter 4

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The door opened, letting the bright light into the semi-darkness of the small office, revealing a large desk, and its owner - a short, thin but obviously wiry, man "over thirty" with sharp features and bright, curious gray eyes. He was not sitting at the table, but standing, shuffling documents and info sticks between two folders.

"Please, Sir Morir." The stack-cadet who opened the door was the kind of woman whose virtues could not hide her uniform, and she had more than enough of those virtues, she stepped aside to let the guest in, and when he entered she closed the door behind him.

"This is hardly conducive to a working atmosphere." The Lord Inquisitor, who had entered, said with judgment, looking through the door behind which a stack cadet remained.

"Envy is the lot of the weak." The "lean one" parried, not looking at the man who entered and not stopping to quickly sort through the papers and information on the table, arranging them in folders according to some scheme that only he understood. "And let's cut the crap. I'm not going to run up and tell you how glad I am to see you, offer you wine or a cigarette. And you get right to the point. Frankly, I've been meaning to leave the palace for almost half an hour, and I only stayed because of you."

"I am officially Aight," explained the entrant, taking a seat uninvited in the chair opposite. "As Lord Inquisitor to the Emperor's Shadow."

"Then you should call me 'your majesty,'" smiled the lean man without raising his eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Prince Cassard, this is one of the arrived ..."

"I know who it is." Aight interrupted with a slight annoyance. He finally looked away from his folders and shifted his gaze to the Lord Inquisitor. "And I even knew his father."

"He's possessed."

Lean man did not outwardly react in any way - but pushed the folders aside and indefinitely hummed and reached to the edge of the table for a cigarette case:

"And how's that?" He asked, lighting a cigarette. "The prince has just today successfully passed the test."

"Remember, almost two decades ago I reported the case of twenty-three-sixteen and twenty-three-sixteen-two."

Aight nodded silently instead of answering and smoked intently for some time, staring at the Lord Inquisitor through the clouds of tobacco smoke.

"Suppose so." He finally reluctantly agreed, averting his gaze and venting a stream of gray smoke thoughtfully to the side. "I suppose there is good reason to believe that Prince Cassard is possessed?"

"He misspoke during the inspection." Lord Quezox shrugged. "Used a seven-day week. A strange way of measuring the time that matches previous occurrences, plus memory loss. But it doesn't matter," he waved, "an interrogation with Lim's serum will suffice, and all the evidence you need will be there."

"Don't tell me you've come to ask for a visa to interrogate a sovereign prince on suspicion of possession, the very existence of which is classified."

"What do you take me for?" The Lord Inquisitor sighed wearily. "I have come for advice."

"Advice is what I do best." The gaunt man said, putting his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. "Well, let's see. You know all about the Tallana Mutiny, of course. About the events on Cassard, I think you've got it all figured out, too."

"Yes."

"After what happened, the Great Houses are somewhat nervous, especially Fyron. And this is not some "Great House" from the Core, with only titles as assets. We're talking about sixteen domains, twenty-three inhabited planets, and a fleet bigger than our sector one. And although no one talks about it out loud, they know that the local branch of the Security Service was involved in all these events. So far, they have been persuaded that it was nothing more than a ridiculous gamble by local officials, who have already been more than roughly punished. The situation seems to be calming down. The Emperor wants it to calm down." With pressure, the dry-haired man added, "The empire needs it to calm down."

"We can act in an unofficial way..." The Lord Inquisitor calmly suggested.

"No one will guess, will they? What do you take them for? The OIFH is capable of eating SS idiots for breakfast, raw. There have been three assassination attempts on the prince, just the ones we know about. Now he is guarded almost better than the emperor: the guards of House, the OIFH, his own Arm, the Arms of the allied clans, the retainer service of House, his own retainers, almost a thousand men deployed in the capital, including half a hundred Carpathians in full armor. And most importantly there is the religious moment."

"I know. That's why I need advice."

"What about - keep watching?"

"This is what I swore to protect the empire against." With pressure, the Lord Inquisitor pronounced. "They didn't have any prerequisites. They didn't visit quarantine zones. They weren't contacted by some adepts of incredible power or, god forbid, demons. No, they were perfectly ordinary people, and then hop." The Lord Inquisitor snapped his fingers. "A completely different entity wakes up, and there's no trace of the old one. Aren't you frightened? Something has taken this poor man's essence and completely replaced it, and he is a descendant of a blessed clan. Who's next, then? You? Me? The Emperor?"

"You know very well that there is a directive to routinely check all persons of category "C" and above. If any of them are "replaced" at least that will be known."

"That's it," Lord Quezox spread his hands with an unfunny smile. "It has become known."

"Let's put it this way." Tiredly, the gaunt man said again, taking out his cigarette. "It's all disturbing, I agree, but there are problems more mundane and more urgent. How to stop it right now, we don't know. We're unlikely to know if we take Prince Cassard specifically. You have a lot to work with for experiments. In any case, given the religious moment, the words' possession and Lord Cassard should not be used in the same sentence. If you want the Emperor's support, any claims against the Prince can only be of a political nature, and only irrefutably proven. If you really want to take him, you have to take him on something mundane but serious enough to justify the detention of a sovereign prince. Anyway, a man of his money and position is just doomed to get caught up in some conspiracy or intrigue. Do you understand me?"

"More than that." The Lord Inquisitor said coldly as he rose. "Thank you for your advice. I understand His Majesty's position."

"You can go to him directly." He shrugged.

"So far, I have nothing to go to him with." The Lord Inquisitor confessed, heading for the exit. He paused briefly at the door, thinking about something, but after a moment, he shook off his stupor and thanked once again for the advice.

The lean man, on the other hand, smoked gloomily for some time, staring unseeingly at the door that had closed behind the Lord Inquisitor.

Soon the cigarette was finished and methodically crushed in the ashtray, then a second one followed.

"Stubborn..." Finally mumbled to himself when there was a third cigarette in the ashtray.

He sighed heavily and reluctantly pressed the communicator's secure communication button. The screen blinked, revealing the emblem of the Imperial Chancellery, which began to rotate slowly over the sacramental "call" inscription, and this went on for several minutes until a somewhat out-of-breath voice came from the terminal:

"You caught me at a bad time. I ran out for a minute, so make it quick." The interlocutor blurted out. The image still didn't come up; the screen was still just an emblem.

"It seems the Male Guest has arrived." The lean man said.

The answer was a long pause, and when his interlocutor spoke again, the tone of his voice became much heavier:

"Who?"

"Prince Cassard."

Pause again.

"And the Female Guest?"

"No sign yet."

"I see. Is it all good news?" He asked in a tone that didn't imply anything good.

"So far, yes."

"Okay." The terminal screen flashed the word "over" and the rotating emblem dissolved into darkness.

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