Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5

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The “unofficial” party in honor of those who arrived at the onstum had formally begun, but the atmosphere was nervous and full of anticipation. The number of those gathered did not yet correspond to the grandiose space of the main hall of the imperial residence, and rare groups of guests were simply lost in the huge and empty spaces of the parquet floor. So, for the time being, most preferred to stay at the refreshment tables along the walls or at one of the four polished metal columns that served as an informal "meeting place".

Near one of the tables with drinks, a young man in a turquoise uniform of the imperial guard propped up the wall with an indifferent look. He lazily drove wine in a glass and, obviously had nothing to do. He listened to the rustle of conversations hovering around the hall. The thin, even slightly feminine features of his face expressed desperate boredom, and the look of brown eyes glided lazily over the audience until it settled on one guest. An ash-haired beauty of hard-to-determine age with a meaningful look of an experienced person. After waiting for her to look in his direction, the young man saluted her with his glass.

He was noticed. He received a smile in return, and the beauty bade farewell to her companion and moved toward him.

She was wearing a long maroon dress that showed off one shoulder and accentuated her green eyes surprisingly well.

"Lady Laer. You are stunningly elegant tonight." He reported, kissing her hand. "And believe me, this is no routine compliment. To what do I owe the pleasure? You are a rare guest at boring palace gatherings."

"Decided to make some variety in my life." She answered, looking back at the front doors. "And how did you end up here, Count?"

"As a connoisseur of the beautiful. So many ladies have chosen to attend today, and many are going out for the first time."

"At the onstum party? Count Zeper, so you must have gotten rich since the last time we met? And forget about your old friend?" Laer pretended to be indignant.

"Alas, no." With sincere sadness, the count sighed. "My financial situation, if anything, has changed only in an unfortunate way."

"Then your chances with the assembled ladies look very doubtful. You and I both know what they are here for."

"Yes," he nodded, "to get yourself a rich man from Sector Tail, and a richer is better. But there are many more of them than have come to the onstum."

"Three times as much." Lady Laer agreed, casting an appraising glance across the room.

"I think there will be a real fight between them." The count's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "And it's just nice to look at this alone. Not everyone is destined to win. The losers are inevitable. Someone will have to extract them from the rubble of ambition, console them."

"It seems to me," Laer pronounced with friendly irony, "you're trying to join those today who eat the fruits of battle without participating in it. They are called marauders."

"Oh, how merciful. Thank you for not calling me a scavenger. But I won't deny it. I'm not looking for the hard way, and I see interesting opportunities here to add a trophy or two to my collection. Speaking of trophies, I don't see your companion. Who is he?"

"I'm on my own, but I expect to fix that soon."

"Here?" The Count's eyes widened in surprise. "I remember you were always above the fray. Did something happen?" He inquired with almost genuine excitement.

"No, it's still the same." Lady Laer shrugged her shoulders with a sad smile. "It's just worth trying something new sometimes. I thought when I become an old hag who no one visits and who communicates only with servants who quietly hate her. I will have no choice but to indulge in the memories of wasted youth. I don't want to be tormented by the thought that I had a chance to spend a life of bliss and fun, not thinking about where to get a good loan. So I decided to cut off the path to retreat and try to arrange a party for myself. Doing my best, just so that later I would not I could reproach myself with insufficient perseverance. Well, if you are to take on such a thing, then you need to choose the most worthy goal. "

"Prince Cassard?"

"And why did you think of him specifically?" Laer answered question after question without denying it.

"He's all anyone talks about." The Count shrugged. "So I guessed?"

She nodded silently in response.

"So, what attracted you to him?"

"Well," she shrugged again, "for example, he's mind-blowingly rich."

"All the lords of the Tail Sector are mind-blowingly rich."

"He's mind-blowingly rich, even by their standards." She countered. "And most importantly, unlike everyone else, he's the Head of his own Family. Which means he won't have to be subordinate to some crazy two-hundred-year-old matron."

"Yes, a perfect husband." The Count sighed wistfully. "And why are there no such brides..."

"There's Nadina Pell."

"Pell?!" He snorted indignantly. "Thank you humbly. Even I don't like money that much." And he added much more calmly. "Yes, and then she is not the Head of the Family. And Prince Cassard: rich, noble, and without pesky relatives. The only drawback is that he's young. I bet many assembled would prefer to see him on his way to the bright edge of old age... But it's not without advantages. At least you can look at him without shuddering."

"I hear interesting intonations Count. Is it an envy?"

"Guilty as charged," he lowered his head guiltily, "I have caught myself thinking that it is a wild injustice when one man is so rich and noble at the same time. It has to be one thing or the other. If he were one of those corporate nouveaux riches, it wouldn't be half as annoying."

"You talk like a utopian," his companion sneered. "Also suggest sharing everything."

"I'd love to share his fortune with you." He closed his eyes dreamily as if imagining something. "What a party you could throw."

"You are surprisingly generous to share such a sum. I'm not sure I could do the same.

"Аh..." He waved his hand philosophically, "What are words worth? It's unlikely we'll get a chance to put them to the test."

"Speak for yourself. It's too early to write me off."

"So you've made up your mind in earnest?" Her interlocutor raised an eyebrow incredulously. "And he is the one 'foolish enough, noble enough, and rich enough' to count on your hand?"

"Dreams, dreams..." She rolled her eyes, "I'll settle for being a lover, too. For starters."

"And yet?" Count Zeper did not relent.

"And yet, it's more of a sport," Laer admitted honestly. "A worthy target, worthy opponents, why not find out what I'm worth in this field as well? Besides, he is said to be a man of free morals and at the same time very generous to his mistresses."

"They say so, yes." The count nodded accordingly. "But, Lady Laer, I have heard that he already has a mistress, and it seems he has more than one."

"Where there's two, there's three." She threw back, keeping her eyes on the door from which Lord Cassard was about to emerge. "Especially since he has none with him."

"Beware," jokingly warned the count, "One of them is a nun and must be as terrible in anger as she is jealous."

"Astonishing awareness." Laer frowned just as jokingly. "You've heard so much about him that I'm beginning to fear whether you should be counted among my rivals."

"As far as I've heard," the count repeated, this time with an obvious smile, "Lord Cassard is quite indifferent to men. But he and I share a common interest in fine wines and beautiful women. Perhaps we can get along on that ground."

"Are you counting on becoming his confidant?"

"I'm too lazy and inconsistent for that. And I don't have the spirit for a sex change, and the old man would curse me. Have you decided exactly how you're going to seduce him?"

"I'll rely on impromptu. The main thing is to catch attention. Maybe I can get close enough if I work my elbows properly."

"Then perhaps we should move to the door beforehand?"

"No. I'm counting on the constant spectacle of girls and mothers with hungry eyes to wear him out in no time, and he'll try to get away from them. Either right to the alcoves or left to the tables. But he doesn't know anyone here, so he'll rush to the drinks, where he'll bump into me."

"A strategist dies in you... By the way, I can imagine how Prince Cassard will be slandered after this evening." Count Zeper added after a short pause, and for some reason, he explained, "Relatives and acquaintances of the rejected candidates will not miss such an opportunity to slander."

"It doesn't touch me much," Laer confessed, continuing to watch the entrance carefully.

"Really?" Count inquired, but he got no answer. Lord Cassard and his companions had just entered the hall:

"Who's that with him?" asked Laer, looking at the entrants with interest.

"Lady Niazur. She accompanies him for the duration of his stay at the Palace, on the rights of Captain of the Guard."

"I didn't recognize her in her uniform. So she had already returned to the capital"

"Not only is she back, but she managed to get an appointment to become the Head of Imperial Intelligence, haven't you heard?" Count Zeper was sincerely surprised.

"You know," she grimaced, "I get tired of politics." And with a grudging sigh, she asked, "Well, at least her, Count. Can not be counted among the potential rivals?

"I don't think so." He suggested cautiously. "From a religious point of view, it would be a horror. For synths, of course." The Count clarified with a meaningful chuckle. "Though who knows, twenty years ago his majesty wouldn't have minded terrorizing synths."

"Count you are obnoxious." Lady Laer threw a disgruntled look at him. "Just when I said I was tired of politics, you start discussing it.

Meanwhile, just as Laer had predicted, the ladies gathered near the entrance instantly enclosed Prince Cassard in a tight ring. And his face went from astonished to dazed rather quickly.

"I think it's about time." Laer, who had been closely watching the development of the Cassard Swarming, decided and moved swiftly to intercept the prince.

"Good luck." Count Zeper saluted the rapidly departing Lady Laer with his glass and, with a sigh, began again to lean against the wall, absent-mindedly watching what was happening.

Lady Laer reappeared about twenty minutes later, slightly flushed, with dilated pupils and ragged breathing, as if she had really been in battle.

"How did the battle go?"

"Without trophies," she said grudgingly, and she snatched the glass from the servant's tray and emptied it in one gulp, "the drink was more interesting to him," he barely glanced at me. It seems I missed my weapon of choice; I should have followed Irisa's example and worn something vulgar, too."

Lady Irisa's dress was so tight and thin that it was easier to consider her naked. And she really got more of Prince Cassard's stares.

"He must be a man of simple tastes," Count commented, his eyes lingering slightly on Lady Irisa.

"It has to be," exhaled Laer, gradually calming her breathing. "Strange for a man of his background, though."

"Rumor has it. He hasn't been himself since the poisoning. He changed a lot and completely lost his memory."

"I didn't think it was that bad."

"It's all relative." The count shrugged. "By the way, you're not the only one who seems to have failed. Lady Caryell looks so unhappy... Well, I must hurry before someone else takes advantage of her condition. I wish you good luck. The company doesn't end with the first battle." He added and bowed, then hurried toward the lushly-breasted brunette in the night sky dress, who, by the look in her eyes, was ready to cry.

An attentive observer, however, would have noticed that before Lady Caryell, the Count gracefully missed her and, occasionally bowing to his acquaintances, began to make his way toward the alcoves. Fortunately, Lady Laer, absorbed in her misfortune, could not yet be classed as an attentive observer.

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As soon as he and Artala entered the hall, they were surrounded on all sides-by several dozen people, if not more. Alex, at first, thought the reason for such a stir was his companion, the Emperor's daughter. But most of his interactions with Artala were limited to polite greetings and occasional dry congratulations on her new appointment. No, unlike all his previous few visits to aristocratic gatherings, the focus of all this interest was himself, and as Alex noticed very quickly, the interest was mostly in women, mostly young and pretty. And the interest was very intense.

And for the first few minutes, it was only a little strange and unexpected but quite within the bounds of the usual, as suddenly, with a decidedly malevolent smile and with the words:

Well, I won't bother you, Prince, have fun." Artala left him, joining the small group of men in white uniforms, most of whom looked about three times her age.

At that moment, it was as if an invisible protective barrier had disappeared around Alex, some magic of the princess' presence that protected him. The beauties around him, as if they had received a command: "Get it!" they almost jumped on him all at once.

He found himself in a kind of cycle of smiles, endless introductions, questions about whether he had received previously sent invitations and offers to drink to the meeting or dance, offers so insistent that Alex even felt some despair behind the perfect smiles of the beauties.

So he started "having fun", trying not to forget the rather intricate rules of politeness, and drinking a lot of alcohol because he still had to drink the "illegal" pill.

And it was supposed to be fun. The beauties surrounding him were surprisingly cute. The number of them, however, made it impossible to have a normal conversation but pleased the eye with the incredible variety. Alas, he gradually became more and more uncomfortable.

Alex never suffered from fear of the audience or stage fright. Large numbers of people didn't scare him, nor did the attention of large numbers of people to his person scare him. It was okay. If necessary, he could perform even in front of a million people. And he did. He didn't know how many people there were at the Gift Day ceremonies at Cassard, but there must have been a couple of million. He liked women in general, especially the pretty ones, and if he became the object of a woman's attention, it was a nice ego boost.

But that's not what happened here. Never before had he experienced a woman's attention in such quantity and so intensely concentrated as a laser beam. And it did not warm his ego at all - on the contrary, with every minute, Alex felt himself more and more as food or something...

So when a servant approached him with a florid apology and a bow, Alex took it as a welcome respite:

"To Your Lordship." The servant bowed again and handed Alex a small, elegant communicator.

He took the communicator with interest and, apologizing, stepped aside:

"Your Lordship." He heard an unfamiliar male voice. "Forgive my inappropriateness, but from the outside, it seems as if the hustle and bustle of the holiday and the cares of the day have tired you out?"

"Maybe," Alex replied quietly, squinting at his beautiful surroundings. They stepped back a little, out of politeness, but continued to circle around, keeping their eyes on him. "And with whom do I have the honor to talk?"

"Count Zeper." His interlocutor introduced himself. "We don't know each other, but Daim Diltar has asked me to help if you have any difficulties at the palace. And I thought you might benefit from some friendly advice: if you head toward the restrooms, you'll be left alone, then you can say you felt ill and be free, at least for the day."

"Sounds interesting," Alex admitted honestly in a half-voiced voice, trying not to let his enthusiasm be too noticeable from the outside. "I'd love to take your advice."

"Then you need the third door on the left wall, as seen from the entrance to the hall, or ask one of the servants to escort you, and I'll meet you there."

As the atmosphere around him became more and more electrified. Alex hurried to follow the advice he had received, especially since all the alcohol he had previously drunk was already making itself felt.

Behind the door, he was met by a young man in a turquoise guardsman's uniform with very fine, aristocratic features:

"Count Zeper." Once again he introduced himself, bowing his head slightly.

"Very glad, and thanks for the timely advice, I was really starting to feel uncomfortable somehow already."

"Sometimes attention can get tiring." The Count nodded understandingly. "Though I can only guess."

"I don't usually get that much attention either. But in any case, your help was very helpful. I hope to be able to return the favor one day."

"An absolute trifle, not worth mentioning, just a touch of participation among good acquaintances."

Right, I'll have to thank Taer later for such thoughtfulness and foresight. Alex remarked mentally, asking out loud:

"Are you friends with Daim Diltar? Did you study or serve together?"

The answer was a diplomatic smile:

"Friendship is a big word. I think Daim Diltar knows whether or not it's appropriate to use it in this case, but I'd like to think we have a good relationship. And yes, we have crossed paths with her in the service."

The Count pointed toward the door down the hall:

"I have already warned the servants. You will be escorted to your assigned quarters, and I will inform them that you have become ill and have gone to your room. Otherwise, the assembled people might start to worry."

"Thank you again." Alex sincerely thanked and, after saying goodbye to the Count, headed in the direction indicated, where a pair of servants with a small hovering platform was indeed waiting for him.

The platform began to glide smoothly over the floor, and Alex had already prepared to admire the beauty of the decorations floating by as a frightened servant with a communicator in his hands caught up with them from behind, practically running:

"Your Lordship." He panted, handing the com to Alex.

"Have you escaped, Prince?" The princess's voice overlapped with the homage of the general hall, and it was hard to tell from her tone whether she was annoyed or amused.

"I don't feel well." Alex lied honestly. "Probably had a few too many drinks."

"Is that a reason? The main star of this onstum. It's cowardly of you. If you've had so much happiness, you should drink to the bottom of it.

Now Alex was sure Artala was just gloating, but just a little, not seriously.

"I think I'll have many more occasions to finish it."

"Don't even doubt it." The princess giggled, and then, after a while, she added in a serious tone:

"I don't think it's necessary to say this, but... you really have been drinking. Please don't hurt Liora." She asked, and she disconnected before he could ask who she was talking about and why he could hurt her.

The platform soon stopped, and Alex entered the rooms assigned to him. He was greeted by a spacious living room in golden tones, with intricately shaped walls - like a huge oval with smooth curves and hollows. Around the out-of-the-way alcoves were armchairs and small tables on which stood trays of fruit and some drinks.

Right in front of the entrance, in front of a pyramid of neatly stacked suitcases, stood a very pretty brown-haired woman. Her blue dress, which was strikingly reminiscent of the livery of the palace servants, despite the modest cut, perfectly emphasized the luscious roundness of its hostess. On top of the dress over her shoulder was a broad white ribbon with silver embroidery and two colored stripes along its entire length - a thin blue and a wide purple.

At the sight of Alexa, the girl bowed, and her more than the prominent chest, thanks to the low collar, appeared at a particularly seductive angle:

"Your Highness, it is a great honor and joy for me to greet you." She said in a velvety voice, her eyes flickering from under her low bangs with obvious interest. "My name is Liora. I am the eldest of the maids assigned to your quarters and your maid for the duration of your onstum. Your Grace's luggage has been delivered, but there was no indication of accommodation with it, and I took the liberty of waiting for you."

"Yeah, uh..." Alex stopped in surprise, staring at the view. He'd been warned about the servants. They're the sort of permanent personal servants that everyone arriving on the onstum must have so they always have someone in their charge, regardless of the position they're given. Some kind of status-related shtick. He didn't get into the details.

"Just put everything in the closets." Finally, he said, making a willful effort to look only into her eyes.

Hearing the request, the girl reached for the keychain communicator hanging around her neck, and he hurriedly added:

"Not tonight, maybe, but tomorrow." It occurred to him that a crowd of servants gutting his suitcases and putting things in their places was not the right environment in which to think things through in peace. "I'll just need my infobox for now." He added, looking doubtfully at the mountain of suitcases. "If you could help me find it, that would be wonderful."

"Of course, Your Lordship." Liora took a few steps to the side and turned and bent over one of the suitcases, looking for something there.

Watching the maid from this new angle, Alex himself did not notice how his thoughts drifted to speculation that he was, in fact, a very lonely young man, virtually free of obligation...

"Here, please, Your Lordship." The maid finally straightened up and walked over to him, a little closer than necessary, and held out an infoblock decorated around the edges with flat dark crystals. Her perfume had a subtle, tantalizing scent reminiscent of vanilla. At that moment, "his lordship" felt a heat sweep over him. He felt the urge to hold her against him, and to avoid doing so, he concentrated on the infoblock.

A centimeter-thick flat tablet, a metal frame a shade of dark platinum, and some crystals, or gemstones, around the edges. The Infoblock was not his. He had an "inappropriately cheap," as his droid put it, an army model advised by Dudo.

"Unfortunately, Your Lordship's infoblock is still being checked by palace security." The maid added, lowering her eyes sorrowfully. "So as not to inconvenience you, all data has been copied onto this one and assigned your communication number. The inner palace and main planetary channels have been entered into memory. If this is not enough for Your Lordship, there is a cluster in the cabinet."

"How nice of security." Alex smiled confusedly, looking at the brand-new infoblock. "Copy all the data..." And probably keep a copy, just in case. Well, thank you.

"If Your Lordship needs anything, I'm always here for you," Liora added, pulling a small cylinder with a chain from a pocket on her skirt. "You can call me on this communicator at any time, and I'll do anything."

That last phrase sounded very ambiguous.

"Anything?" He couldn't help asking Alex, looking at the maid with undisguised interest.

"Absolutely anything..." She began, sparkling her eyes excitedly, and after a meaningful pause, she finished. "... whatever Your Lordship desires." She bowed once more and left the room, followed by a long look.

Her gait was like everything else.

Finally, the door tinkled melodically, hiding the maid, and Alex was left alone, clutching the communicator keychain in his sweaty hand.

His breathing became like after a run, heavy and intermittent. He took several deep breaths and exhales to calm down, but only his breathing calmed down. His head was full of confused thoughts and images, and they were not about politics:

I reacted like a thirteen-year-old schoolboy. Alex was genuinely surprised by his reaction to this girl. And the reaction didn't want to go away. He was just tempted to turn on his communicator and call... Was it the alcohol?

He had never noticed this reaction before. Alcohol had no particular effect on him at all. He just got worse at coordinating his movements, and his tongue would get slurred if he drank too much. He might get absent-minded, that's all. He didn't have the urge to do anything stupid after drinking.

Something had to be done about it. Throwing the keychain on the way to the couch so he wouldn't be tempted, he quickly found a small bag with his "personal" things in it: folders with history sticks, a now empty blaster holster, and a Fenote, all the other mountain of "necessary" things he had been supplied with by Ratiner Service.

Fortunately, the palace security did not have any complaints about the Fenot. Plastic jars with sparkling blue capsules were in place. Alex chewed one capsule: his mouth and throat burned with icy wormwood, making his cheekbones cramp.

This "mild memory and thought stimulant" tasted unspeakably gruesome. It was exactly what was needed right now. He stood for a few seconds, getting away from the taste of the Fenote and tiredly leaning back in his chair, snatched a large purple berry from the tray on the nearest table - to eat.

My mind cleared up a little, the "reaction" was not gone, but at least he could think about something other than Liora.

By the way, that name sounds familiar. Alex wondered belatedly, That's also the name of the rebel representative. I'm making a habit of bumping into Liora on my first visits to the palaces. The first Liora, though, didn't have that effect...

And what caused this effect was completely incomprehensible.

It's no coincidence that the princess asked me.

It seemed to him that after his interactions with Kayrin and Isalaya, he had developed a kind of immunity to the mind-boggling beauty of some of the local women. And to Nadine, for example, or Queen Hershebet, he reacted absolutely calmly, admiring their beauty, as one can admire the beauty of the sunset - that is, without the stormy sexual overtones. But here... And there was no extraterrestrial beauty in Liora; she was rather cute.

She was pretty and devilishly attractive. And she was hitting on me absolutely shamelessly. It was like being in the opening scene of a porn movie. And it wasn't that he didn't like it. Quite the opposite. But... it means she wants something from me... Although it could just be part of her job description. Hospitality to the fullest, so to speak. It was a very appealing idea. Tempting. It again produced thoughts and images, this time not rambling but quite definite. It was quite possible: to get up, walk over to the couch, grab the communicator, call the "head maid"... Very simple, in fact.

Instead, he chewed another capsule of Fenote, took the infoblock, and sat back in his chair. The palace seemed to be an increasingly complex place. And in his picture of the world, there were obvious gaps in the area of the imperial family, inheritance, adepts, the Inquisition, and authority in general. And since he found himself close to that authority, it was worth filling them as quickly as possible. And with a week during the interrogation, it was strange. The first thing he decided to deal with was the calculation of time as the simplest issue.

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