Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Chapter 6

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Time is a strange thing. The heavy, thick curtains were pulled wide open, and the pale blue light of the moon filled the bedroom. Bright and unreal at the same time, it cast a ghostly silver on the polished sides of the furniture, making the room look like a painting in bluish colors or a faded photograph. Nothing disturbed this cast of frozen time. The windows, though open, were additionally covered by a protective field and let no breeze through, and only the occasional gleam of the distant lights of the capital on the ceiling let Alex know that time had not stopped.

Time is a funny thing. Dreams were not coming, and he had been lying in bed staring at the ceiling for hours. Sixty minutes in an hour and sixty seconds in a minute. More than a couple of hours had passed, which meant he had been lying in bed staring at the ceiling for more than seven thousand seconds. Because there are three thousand six hundred seconds in each hour.

Alex was a little proud of himself. This fact was not known to him by memory, but his brain exhausted by insomnia and alcohol still managed to multiply sixty by sixty, in his mind, without resorting to the help of the infoblock. However, he "cheated" with further calculations, using the calculator function to the fullest extent.

Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, twenty-four hours in a day, sixty minutes in an hour, sixty seconds in a minute. When you use that kind of time all your life, it becomes ingrained in you, becomes something completely natural that you don't think about, just as you don't think about the composition of the air you breathe, until that same composition becomes a problem.

He hadn't been able to sleep for hours, but he still had plenty of time, because there were thirty hours in a day, of which normally ten were for sleeping. He had first encountered thirty hours a day during the flight, but he thought it was a purely "ship's" invention. It turned out to be the standard, thirty hours on a standard day. And the capital lived by that time. The situation was complicated by the fact that the planet itself revolved around its axis in fifty-six hours, but he guess it didn't matter. It was night now, but Alex was ready to swear that he could read a book outside without any artificial light, so bright was the moonlight. On the contrary, they were on the moon, and the huge silver-purple ball that filled the floor of the sky was the gas giant around which they were orbiting.

I wonder what counts as a local year here? Alex thought lazily, throwing his hands behind his head and looking at the ceiling. The rotation of the moon around a gas giant or the turn of that giant around a star.

He did not know, and he was too lazy to look because in principle it was absolutely unimportant. As he had already found out, the standard year, like the standard day, had nothing to do with revolutions of anything around anything and consisted of three hundred standard days.

The cherry on the cake was the discovery that the hour is actually a hundred minutes:

Why? That makes sense. Why not a hundred? Convenient.

And there are fifty seconds in a minute. Why not a hundred? Because there was also a "full minute" of a full hundred seconds, but outside of scientific laboratories and precise calculations, it hasn't been used for a long time.

All these facts added up to the fact that everyone around was actually older than at first thought. Simply because the local standard year, in seconds, was noticeably longer than Earth's. True, there were difficulties with the length of a second. There was nothing to compare it with.

In fact, nothing more than an amusing fact. After all, what difference does it make how to count time? The problem was that there was no place for weeks and months in this system. There were decades. The year was divided into thirty decades, and the date was nominated very simply, the number of the day in the decade, the number of decades in the year, and the year itself. That's all, no weeks. True, once upon a time, there were weeks, and there were even months, and traces of them remain in determining the timing and duration of some holidays, especially religious - but no more than that, even the church did not use weeks for a hundred years, if not more.

No wonder the Lord Inquisitor reacted this way. Alex generally suspected that Sir Quezox might have realized there was something wrong with him. But if he guessed something, then why did they formally complete the inspection?

Even in the evening, a message came to him from Sir Ulter of the house representation. They had received all the necessary documents from the Inquisition, and there were no claims against him. It was unclear whether the pill passed by the princess was to be thanked for this or whether he really wasn't an adept either, but all the formalities had been completed. He passed the test.

Perhaps if Quezox had suspected something, he would not have completed it? Sir Ulter warned that sometimes the case could drag on. They could easily find an excuse if they wanted to. Not that Alex was afraid of the attention of the Inquisition, but after the alcohol, the withdrawal from the pill, and general fatigue, he instead felt apathy to everything that was happening. Sleep did not come anyway, and he just stared at the ceiling. Sometimes for boredom, he turns on the infoblock, only to turn it off again with a sigh after a few minutes.

He had been like this for at least an hour, maybe more when he heard the door to his bedroom quietly open with a thin streak of yellow light in a silver moonlit realm:

"Your Lordship." He heard Liora whisper through the ajar door. "You are awake, aren't you?" The door opened a little wider, and she poked her head out from behind the door and asked louder:

"Will you let me in?"

"Yes, of course." Alex leaned up on his elbow and pulled the blanket up higher with his free hand. "Is something wrong?"

"No, Your Lordship." Liora entered the room, and at her gesture, a small platform, in fact, a flying tray, floated in. What exactly was on the tray was hard to see, but it was stacked with some plates and jugs, and glasses. "Just sleeping pills if you choose to sleep, stimulants if you choose to stay awake, and some snacks."

Liora remained at the very entrance to the room, shutting the door behind her, and the tray, making faintly audible purring noises, flew toward Alex.

Well, if it's not too much for her... He thought, looking at the tray of food that was literally bursting with food; in the large dish closest to him was a pile of tiny, crispy cakes, each the size of a fingernail, which was supposed to be served with soup, but Alex liked them terribly on their own. The tarts smelled so good, and his body suddenly reminded him that he'd hardly eaten anything with a loud rumbling sound in his stomach:

"I just love these tarts." He murmured, a little embarrassed, "I didn't expect they made them here, too. Thank you, that's a nice surprise."

"I contacted your Office," Liora explained from the far end of the room. She stood perfectly still, her blue dress disappearing into the moonlight, making her look like a ghost. "They helped me a great deal. Also, based on your preferences, I took the liberty of adding a few more dishes that you might like. For example, 'tartlets from Kasala,' perhaps your lordship would find them delicious."

It did not escape Alex that Liora's voice was dry and lifeless in contrast to the sensual and playful tone he had heard just a few hours before:

Of course, I'm the one with insomnia, and she woke up in the middle of the night because of me. There must be some kind of biomonitor in the bedroom, too. Although... He remembered there shouldn't be any such thing in the guest rooms.

So there's a biomonitor or something like that in the bedroom? He asked aloud, with obvious displeasure, not that he was surprised that the Imperial palace could peep at its guests. It's just odd that they don't even try to hide it.

No, Your Lordship, nothing like that," Liora hastily assured me, "any form of technical surveillance of guests is absolutely forbidden by the palace regulations. I..." She hesitated a little, and her voice sounded confused, "I sensed you were bored. I'm almost adept, you know..." She added, pointing to her ribbon in a low voice.

"I thought there was supposed to be a purple vine or branch like that on the Adept's ribbon." Pronounced Alex, pulling the tray of snacks closer to him. He was interested in adepts in general and was aware of their insignia, and the combination of blue and purple stripes was not among them. At least, he didn't find one.

"The Inquisition does not classify linear payo as full-fledged adepts because of their extreme weakness of ability. They are placed in a separate category, Your Lordship."

"Who are the linear payo?" He asked with sincere interest, taking from the tray a tartlet advertised by Artala. It was an ordinary tartlet, small, made of sandy dough, with some kind of filling that smelled pleasantly of mint and a small green almond in the center. A peanut, maybe.

"The payo are slaves, Your Lordship." There was suddenly so much unexpected aggression and challenge in Liora's voice that Alex froze with the tartlet in his mouth, looking at the maid in surprise:

"Bred in Sociar by direct selection." Liora continued, and despite the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he could see her eyes glinting angrily in the opposite corner of the room. "With genetically inherent servility and psionic abilities so degenerate that loss of stability is impossible. Linearity was provided by inbred insemination by the male line. This, your lordship, means that each new generation of Payo girls became pregnant by their own fathers. Or should I say father, the same genetic material was used for all payo, which is how laboratory animals are bred. It was a disgusting practice that gave rise to an equally disgusting result."

"His Lordship" froze, looking at Liora glaring angrily, not quite understanding what happened, he had the feeling that he was verbally slapped on the cheeks, but it was completely unclear why:

It's a shame, isn't it? I didn't do anything but ask. He paraphrased the classic in his mind as he sat down on his bed and chewed the tartlet thoughtfully. It was a salty, crumbly tartlet with a very light filling of low-fat cottage cheese, almost neutral in flavor, which only emphasized the taste of almonds. It turned out to be a very juicy berry with a delicate but rich fruit flavor and a pleasantly subtle sourness, the texture resembling that of a large cherry.

"A very tasty tartlet." He said it out loud to lighten the mood, and I had to hand it to Liora. Her recommendation was one hundred percent accurate, and he really liked it. "Especially the berry, so tender."

"It's not a berry, Your Lordship. It's a fruit bug that lives on Kasala." It was hard to see Liora's facial expression in the half-light, but her tone didn't sound like she was joking.

"A bedbug?" Just in case, he asked again, hoping he'd misheard.

"Bedbug," Liora repeated clearly.

"An insect?" Alex clarified, fearing that the tartlet might go in the opposite direction.

"Quite right, Your Lordship, it is an insect. It must be served alive, only thoroughly washed, and its legs torn off. For ease of serving."

He listened to his body, the tartlet didn't seem to go back:

"Interesting." Philosophically, Alex sighed. "I haven't eaten live bedbugs yet." And pushing the tray slightly in Liora's direction, he asked:

"Don't you want one yourself? Pretty tasty bedbug."

"It is unbecoming of a maid to eat in the presence of an illustrious prince." Liora categorically cut her off. "I will tell the cooks that you were satisfied. I will not disturb your lordship any further. If you need anything, you can summon me at any time." She added and quickly bowed and exited, dazzling Alex for a moment with the bright yellow light of the open door.

That's what's interesting, though, is that there was no wild reaction like the first time. He noted in his mind, staring thoughtfully at the tray of food. She didn't come close this time, kept to the other side of the room - maybe that's why? Some kind of aura around her? Since she's "almost an adept" or something, pheromones of some kind. I'd better find out...

His hand reaches for another tartlet, deciding that resistance is futile, Alex shrugs it off and poisons it into my mouth:

Bedbug or not, it's an extremely tasty wretch. Anyway, what's the big deal? I ate ants when I was a kid.

After wiping his hands with the wet towel left on the tray, Alex stretched out on the bed again, taking the infoblock with him:

Well, let's see what we can find about payo. If only they had some normal search engines here ...

He did not sleep, so he decided to rely on stimulants, as he had heard from several people that not sleeping for a few days was not a problem at all. He pondered for a while which to use, the one that Liora had suggested or the one he had been given in his things. After some thought, he came to the conclusion that there was no difference. Liora had been alone with his things for an unspecified amount of time. Yes, and rummaging through the suitcases was lazy. And in the end, the local chemistry didn't let him down. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this great in the morning. "Morning," of course, in the calendar sense. It was still twilight outside the window, with the huge disk of the gas giant obscuring the sky.

But the night vigil itself was relatively fruitless. He found little about the payo. The personal slaves of Queen Soltara, ruler of the entire Sociara region. It was believed that there were about a hundred of them, all identical in appearance and genetic makeup. For this reason, there was little about them in public sources - except very general information: that their creation had a primarily religious and symbolic meaning. The very name "payo" meant "sinful," and a search on them turned up a bunch of religious nonsense about the inevitable triumph of virtue over sin.

The payo also participated in some synth religious rites, such as the rite of "trampling on sin," in which Queen Sociara, as the embodiment of virtue, "trampled" the payo as the embodiment of sin. As Alex understood, this action was purely symbolic. Accordingly, for the same reasons, the payo was mostly used by the queen's servants since it was believed that an ordinary mortal could not handle so much "sin". Sometimes, for special merits, the queen could give payo to all the high-ranking dignitaries as recognition of their "virtue". And, accordingly, with the subjugation of the Empire to the government and the abolition of slavery, all this practice ceased to exist.

It was what could be called "trustworthy information," but beyond that, there was just an abyss of bullshit of dubious validity, mostly revolving around the incredible sensuality and sexual talents of the payo. Claims that they are capable of giving incomparable bliss by anticipating any desires of their lovers, which then makes ordinary women not even want to look at them. To statements that just being near a payo will drive any man, woman, or even a droid crazy instantly and irrevocably. All in that vein.

"They say just being in a room with payo can drive men crazy." Alex shared his discovery as Liora entered his bedroom to warn him that it was time to get up and that his escort, Princess Artala, was coming.

"That is quite impossible, Your Lordship." Liora looked nonchalant, serious, and focused. "One would have to be of sound mind to go out of mind, which is not the case with most men.

Alex put the infoblock aside and raised an eyebrow, and gave Liora the same look:

"Of course, it has nothing to do with your Lordship." She assured him in a nonchalant tone. "If you don't need any help getting dressed, I'll go and arrange for breakfast. Do you have any requests, or will you leave it up to me?"

"No, you know, I could use some help after my bath." Proclaimed Alex, watching the maid's reaction with interest. "With clothes and all."

Not a muscle on Liora's face flinched:

"Of course, your lordship. As you, please. Lady Niazur has sent her recommendations in this regard. Would you care to look at them, or do you have other wishes?"

"Perhaps I should take a look at the references." Alex agreed. After all, if all went according to plan today, he would have a private audience with the emperor and receive his appointment. It was a rather important event, and he didn't know much about the intricacies of local protocol yet.

Liora quickly bowed and dashed out of the bedroom. When he emerged from the bath in his bathrobe, she was already greeting him with new arrivals: with her were two more maids dressed in the same modest blue dresses but without ribbons. One of the maids was leading a small floating platform with his suitcases in front of her.

Liora began to read Artala's recommendations from her infoblock while the other two maids, following her commands, opened the suitcases, showed Alex the matching clothing options, and put back the ones he rejected. It was incredibly fast and neat:

If someone gives them the task of searching all my things, they will do it in ten minutes, if not sooner, so I will not know later that someone has gone through my things. He thought as he watched them work harmoniously, though, in principle, this whole demonstration was quite unnecessary, as the decision "what to wear" was made as soon as he heard that "the guards uniform as at the ball" would do just as well.

"Thank you, I've made my decision. You're free for now," Alex said, turning to the maids, and looking at Liora, he added:

"And Liora, I'm going to ask you to stay." He said, almost without hiding a smile. "I'll still need your help getting dressed."

It seemed to him that all this time Liore had been trying to stay away from him, and he wondered what would happen if she came any closer. A new bout of "teenage sexuality"? Or was it the alcohol last time, after all?

The maids bowed and slipped out of the room, and Liora took out his chosen uniform and began to help him. She was a great helper. She was courteous, considerate, and attentive. Alex, however, hardly noticed all this, immersed in the analysis of his feelings. Laura was very close to him. He could feel her breath and the scent of her vanilla-like perfume, she touched him to help him dress, and sometimes when she moved around, he felt the touch of her long hair.

The atmosphere is much more sensual, and nothing at all. Alex thought, slightly disappointed, Is it all because of the alcohol?

"Is there something you wish to ask your Lordship?" Asked Liora. She was buttoning the buttons of his uniform and was standing quite close, right in front of him.

"I just read a lot of nonsense about payo overnight. " Alex admitted, feeling a little guilty. "And I was curious to see if any of it had anything to do with the truth. I've been having trouble remembering since the poisoning, and sometimes the most obvious things slip through my fingers."

"I was warned of your memory difficulties, the House Fyron representation, and your Office, when I was preparing for your Lordship's visit. Your Office also warned me that you couldn't stand being helped to dress." Liora answered as she was buttoning the collar of his uniform, and her fingers were just touching his neck, but she had a look as if she wanted to strangle him, maybe not to death, but at least so that he "felt" it.

"Usually, yes." Alex didn't deny it. "But this is a special occasion, so I decided not to deny myself the pleasure."

"As your lordship pleases. That's my job."

The dressing was done, and she took a step back, examining the work of her hands:

"What exactly is of interest to Your Lordship? I will try to answer any question you may have."

"You know, like 'driving mad'? I really felt weird yesterday when we first met."

"In some situations, pheromone levels in the payo can exceed those of the average female. This can have an arousing effect on some people."

Alex looked at Liora expectantly, as if to hint that she should continue, but she stood opposite him, defiantly ignoring his hints:

"In what situations?" Finally, he couldn't stand it.

"In situations where the payo senses a desire directed at her, from the person in whose command she is," Liora pronounced, looking through Alex.

"But I'm not..." Alex began. "Although..."

"In any case, you have nothing to worry about, Your Lordship. I took medication that suppresses this effect." She answered quickly and evidently tried to change the subject. "Would you have any requests for breakfast?"

"No, I'll rely on your choice, those tartlets, for example, I really liked them."

"I'm glad I could be of service to you," Liora replied with a bow and left him alone.

Well, at least, it didn't seem that way to me. Alex thought thoughtfully, looking at himself in the mirror despite his perfectly fitted uniform, he looked a bit guilty or something. Yeah, not a dashing hussar, that's for sure.

While some of the maids cleaned the bed and others served breakfast in the next room, Alex settled down with the infoblock in the living room, where he was caught up in the princess' visit:

"I knew you'd be wearing white again." She stated grudgingly instead of greeting you. "So we'll blend in. You should have worn something darker to set me off.

This time Artala wore a snow-white uniform that resembled his own, the only difference being that hers had gold epaulets and a sword pendant cord, and it suited her remarkably well, blending well with her jet-black hair and bright blue eyes.

"No matter what I wear, I can only accentuate you, for no one is meant to outshine you," Alex replied with a compliment, seeing from the princess's face that her claims were clearly not serious.

The princess only rolled her eyes in response to the compliment.

But I think she likes it, he mentally remarked, asking aloud:

"Do we have to go yet?"

"No, we have a minimum of an hour or more yet. There's plenty of time for breakfast." She answered with a hungry gleam in her eye.

Breakfast would have been nice. He was already working up an appetite, too. The princess said that the longer one was on the stimulants, the hungrier one got. What would happen if one didn't sleep for a week?

"By the way, yesterday at the ball, everyone was congratulating you on your appointment." Alex decided to change the subject. "I wish I'd joined them back then, but I never understood exactly what you were congratulated on."

"It pleased His Majesty to merge the Ranger Service and Imperial Intelligence, and since Intelligence has been without a head for almost half a year, the management of the merged service has been given to the head of the Ranger Service, me," Artala told me proudly, bowing her head slightly.

"You can't help but be congratulated on that. I'm sure it's the best choice."

The princess gave him a pained look in reply:

"Great shadows, Prince, what is happening to you? I'm beginning to feel like I'm at a formal gathering."

"I'm tuning up. I have an audience with the emperor, after all."

"Don't get too set in your ways. Father is not a fan of the excessive ceremony."

"Do you have any advice?"

"Just be within the bounds of propriety." The princess shrugged. "Your appointment, a long-decided matter anyway, is all just a formality."

"And where am I going to be assigned?" cautiously inquired Alex, who was generally a little frightened by the whole service thing. He didn't feel ready, to put it mildly.

"No, I won't." Artala grinned a pissed-off face. "Let the uncertainty torment you."

They managed to exchange a few more minutes of unspiteful banter before Liora showed up to tell them breakfast was ready.

"Thank you, Liora, we'll have a little more private time with Prince Cassard and then we'll come." Unexpectedly for Alex, Artala answered her, and after waiting for the maid to leave, she turned to him:

"She has this phase..." Artala grumbled unhappily, pointing her eyes in the wake of Liora's departure. "Be brave. She'll be unbearable for a few days after the pills. Then she'll be the sweetest, most affectionate person you've ever met in your life."

"Is it because of pheromone suppression?"

"Pheromones? No, what makes you think? It's the antidepressants. Payo has a need to..." The princess paused, obviously choosing her words. "Let's just say to please. They sense what you want, and if they don't succeed in pleasing you, they produce enough depressants to drown three regular humans. It's a genetic trait. So she takes antidepressants. And because they make her want to lie down and not move, she also takes stimulant mediators. This makes her character deteriorate noticeably, and she usually has an attack of self-loathing. Because of the fact that she is: "servile, can't control her instincts, acts like an animal," that sort of thing. This cycle of self-injury usually takes her a couple of days. Then everything goes back to normal."

"Sounds awful." Sincerely, Alex sympathized. "Does that happen often?"

"Not really, once or twice a year," the princess shrugged. "Depends on the owner, of course, for this attack is clearly to thank you."

"I really didn't do anything." He sincerely assured her.

"I don't even doubt it." Artala snorted. "You came after the ball, where a dozen or so girls tried to rub up against you, and you were greeted by Liora, looked at her with a hot stare long enough for her to "warm up," and then sent her away."

"Somehow, that's the way it was." With a sigh, Alex admitted.

"Well, it's worse for you, too." Artala declared. "You've lost a lot."

"So all these stories about payo are true?"

"Great shadows, how should I know?" The princess was indignant. "What do you think, just because I studied in a sorority convent, that I am interested in women?"

"No, I guess not." He was confused, not expecting the conversation to turn this way.

"It's the perfect cliché. Okay." She sighed, taking his arm. "Let's go get some breakfast, or I'll bite someone."

"Everyone says those sororities, they even sleep in each other's arms." The princess continued her enlightenment after she sat down at the table and kicked out all the servants except Liore. "This is nonsense!"

Artala managed to eat and talk while gesturing expressively with her food:

"They just don't understand. Hessan is a desert. In the daytime, it's so hot that you could die, and at night it's cold, very cold. And the upper levels of the monastery, where the disciples' cells are, get cold in the middle of the night. It's terribly cold there."

She suddenly interrupted her story and handed one of the plates to Liore, who was standing near the table:

"Do you want some? The tubes turned out really good."

"Thank you, I've already had breakfast," Liora answered quietly.

"As you wish." The princess rolled her eyes and went on with her story, conducting a tube of spicy paste:

"Of course, the students sleep snuggled up to each other, but not because they're experiencing anything. It's just very cold. The older sisters genuinely think it's good for their metabolism to be cold or something. But they measure up to themselves, and after taking the service they can sleep in the snow. I guess." Artala added without certainty. "So all these stories about maiden love among the sororities are just idle speculation. It happens, of course, but not more often than usual, maybe even less often."

"Why?" Out of politeness, asked Alex, who had completely lost the thread of the conversation and was just trying to keep the conversation going.

"Well, because it's too easy. After all, there are only women around, and the nearest man is on another planet. And if it gets out that some poor girl is dating a girl, that automatically puts her in the "desperate" category. And that's not a reputation worth having in a 100% female collective."

"If the closest men are on another planet, does that mean that most keep their chastity throughout their training? I have heard that, on the contrary, sisters are attributed a very turbulent love life."

"A tumultuous love life? Among the sisters? I don't think so." The princess burped, clearly thinking about something of her own. "In their dreams, maybe. But once every sixty-four days, most go to the Throne of Fire, on Cassard, for two days of ceremonies. That's the reason for all this talk of unrestraint, by the way. When you only have two days, there's no time to flirt."

"You must have fond memories of Cassard?" Alex continued to keep the conversation going, thinking. So that's how the real Prince Cassard and the Princess could have met. She must have been a regular visitor to his domain.

"No, it was horrible," Artala assured him with the blank stare of someone who'd seen more horrors than his psyche could handle. "I had Isalaya with me, and whenever anyone would even look in my direction, she would lunge at him like a vorskl sniffing blood, only to scare him away and say, 'See, he wasn't serious about you'. Although anyone can understand that it's hard to be 'serious about me' when Isalaya is wiggling her ass in front of him."

"She probably wanted to protect you."

"She's just a mean bitch." Artala cut her off in a blunt voice. "I love her as a sister, but when it comes to affairs of love..." The princess froze in speech, clearly thinking about something, her gaze focused on Alex, filled with a kind of morbid mischief and a glint of anticipation:

"Liora, read Prince Cassard's fortune for love," Artala demanded, even slamming her palm on the table with uninhibited anticipation. "It'll be great," she assured Alex.

"I am now in the service of Prince Cassard." Liora calmly parried, not moving from her seat.

"I hate it when you're like this." The princess snorted. She turned to Alex and pulled his sleeve. "Well, order her, Prince. It will be interesting. All the female half of the palace runs to her to fortune-telling."

The princess's eyes shone with such childlike delight that it was embarrassing to refuse her:

"If it's not too much trouble..." Alex turned to Liora, who was standing indifferently beside him.

"As Your Lordship wills," she replied, taking a deck of local cards from the pocket of her dress. "What would you like to read your fortune on?"

"For love, the Small Four." The princess screeched out for him, kicking up a chair for Liora and unceremoniously shoving trays and plates aside. "There's no time for a Full Eight."

Liora sat down at the table with them and began to shuffle the deck:

"First, you must pay for the fortune-telling, otherwise, it cannot be real." The maid explained, shuffling the cards like a professional card player. "That is the tradition. I used to take a token one danarii, but after the conflict with the gray monks, I had to promise to charge no less than twenty-five danarii for divination..."

Alex silently pulled out a hundred denarii card and handed it to her. Liora put the cards aside for a while, and to Alex's surprise, she broke the card into four pieces - returning three of the pieces to him.

You live and learn. He thought, mesmerized as he watched the cards change face value on the pieces and gradually begin to grow to their normal size.

"Let the Twilight reveal the future," Liora said in a somber and solemn tone, and the cards fluttered even faster in her hand, swapping places at a rapid pace. "Pull." She said in a commanding tone, placing the deck in front of him.

Alex reached for the card that was on top, but at the last moment, he changed his mind and pulled one out of the middle of the deck and placed it upside down on the table. The map depicted a subject sitting cross-legged, wearing an asphalt-colored robe, with a charcoal black mask covering his entire face. Alex didn't remember a card like that.

"The Grey Monk..." Artala commented with some surprise. "So you are the duplicitous man, Prince Cassard."

"It's a good card in its own way," Liora contradicted her. "It may speak of your powers of observation, your ability to listen to others, and not to lose your head... Let's see what else the Twilight reveals?" She took the deck in her hands and shuffled it again, drawing another card and placing it under the first:

On the card, against a background of two orange orbs that must have represented two suns at once, stood a man in a light-colored jumpsuit with black stripes. Behind him was a solid metal wall, or rather the side of a ship with a wide-open door.

"Cosmic is a vagabond and a stranger. You are very far from home..."

"Well, seven days of flying." Just in case, Alex put it in, getting a little anxious.

Next, a square fell out. The Emerald Guardian lay over the first card.

"There are many pleasures around you, and you know how to enjoy life..."

"Come on, who's coming for his heart." The princess hurried, almost jumping with impatience.

"Who goes after your heart," Liora repeated, laying out a card with a hot brunette in a bright red dress:

"Scarlet Lady. It's definitely Isalaya." The princess sighed disappointedly. She was obviously expecting something else.

"You have a rare and passionate admirer, Your Lordship." Liora continued. "But beware of rejecting her. Love will instantly turn to hate."

She laid a new card under "admirer," "The Seven Stars are a branch of the search. Obviously, you're not together yet, but she's looking for a way to connect with you. So who is she..." Above the Scarlet Lady lay another card. "Castle - that's someone close. Not necessarily a relative, maybe just someone in your circle."

"It's definitely Isalaya." Once again, the princess repeated with obvious dissatisfaction.

"What's between you..." Liora continued to divine, unaware of the princess's vagaries. On the table lay a card with a bowing man. "A Servant...- some person of low birth stands between you."

"Hmm?" Artala raised her eyebrows in interest. "Now that's interesting. Who is it?"

To the right of the Servant lay a card on which was a couple spinning in a dance, their faces covered by brightly colored masks.

"Ball. Masquerade. This person is not at all what one seems. All you see is no more than a mask."

"Now that's interesting." The princess whispered with renewed interest in her eyes."

"What in the future..."

A new card lay beneath the Servant. It was again an unfamiliar card: a white-haired girl of demonic appearance clad in golden armor. There was a bloody laceration in the center of the armor on her chest, a bloody dagger in her left hand, and a flaming heart in her right. Blood dripped from the heart, turning into fiery petals at the bottom of the picture.

When the princess saw this card, it was as if she choked. She stopped halfway and just stared at it for a few moments:

"You didn't shuffle the deck well." She finally declared, looking at Liora with displeasure. "So much gray came out."

Liora, too, froze looking at the card that fell out:

"Let's start over." She finally suggested and reached out to collect the cards from the table. "I must have really just shuffled the deck badly."

"But why?" Alex protested. "I wonder what's next. You've already intrigued me so much with these secret admirers... What kind of card is this?" he asked, pointing his eyes at the white-haired woman.

"Gray Lady." Reluctantly, Artala said, looking at the map with displeasure.

"Mistress of this world, High Shadow, Champion of Twilight," Liora proclaimed in a muffled voice, clearly assuming the role of grim prophetess. "All living things are in her hand, for she is Death."

"Oh, don't you start." Artala shushed her.

"I didn't recognize it," admitted Alex, who was completely unaffected by the whole scary thing. "They draw it differently in playing cards, and what does it mean in this case?"

"A symbol of inevitability and death. Bad death." Liora said, looking him in the eye.

"Is there a good one?"

"Of course, it happens," the princess rolled her eyes. "Death in battle, for instance. And this is an accident or death at the hands of an assassin."

"So the two-faced servant that stands between us is about to die a bad death?" Alex clarified.

"In this case, this card affects you, not the source." With more and more creepiness in her voice, Liora said. "It's what your obstacle will do or turn out to be."

"So I should be wary of assassins. That's not news."

"I guess so..." Liora replied, somewhat embarrassed, without any gloom in her voice.

"So that's it?"

"You can still see what awaits you when you join." The maid pulled out the last card and, with a cryptic chuckle, showed it to Artala, which upset her completely.

"What's up there? Some bad card again?" Alex wondered sincerely.

Liora silently laid the card on the table. It was gray, and only two eyes burned with a blue light in the middle.

"The Gray Lord." Alex determined. "The card is a shifter, it can be played in place of any other card, and what does it mean here?"

"Twilight. The Master of Randomness. The Giver of this world." Liora triumphantly proclaimed, looking at Artala triumphantly.

"Don't listen to her." Mumbled an obviously frustrated princess. "She's a member of the Twilight Church." And she added with annoyance. "I told you she just shuffled the deck badly. You should have started over. I hate that sort of thing. Of course, it's not serious at all, and it's silly. But I still get upset and feel guilty."

"So that's a bad card too?"

"It all depends on the point of view," Liora answered him. "For a secondarist, maybe a bad one."

"And for the non-secondarist?"

"Twilight is the opposite of Flame and therefore of love and passion," Liora explained. "Its blessing is available to anyone who is willing to accept it, regardless of strength, moral or physical. He symbolizes reason and calculation. He is the Lord of chance. Lord of the minds of mortals, as well as patron of money-grubbers, for this, is his gift."

"What does that mean?" An impatient Alex asked, intrigued.

"That means it's all up to chance," Liora said in a patronizing tone, clearly enjoying her role as a gloomy fortune teller. "And that chance can be both incredibly happy and incredibly unhappy. What it certainly can't be is anything moderate because of the Gray Lady's presence..."

"That means it will all turn out to be lies, death, and possibly money." Artala interrupted her, rising from the table.

"For whom will it turn out?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe for everyone. I'm sorry... We have to go anyway.

"I don't think it's a big deal," Alex said, quite sincerely, as he stood up too. "I've been threatened by assassins before, so it's nothing new. And it turns out I'm going to have a passionate love affair, which will turn out to be a sham, but with profit." He added optimistically.

The princess replied with a silent wave, clearly out of the mood.

* * *