Alexey Kovtunov & Oleg Sapphire

The Healer’s Way

Book 11

A Portal Progression Fantasy Series

Published by Magic Dome Books

The Healer’s Way

Book # 11

Copyright © Alexey Kovtunov, Oleg Sapphire 2025

Cover Art © Max Olin 2025

Cover Design: Vladimir Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Jennifer E. Sunseri 2025

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2025

ISBN: 978-80-7693-944-8

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

About The Authors

Chapter 1

“THINK! THINK! Think!”

“Back off already! I am thinking!” The two slave traders were busting their brains over how to find new slaves, and fast.

They’d never before had such demand for so many so fast. The thing is, they were used to selling warriors or beautiful women, but entire families? Never before had there been demand like this for them. In any case, this meant that the slave traders had a rare opportunity to make it rich, earn a fortune and live out the rest of their days in comfort.

“Maybe we should parade our warrior slaves before him, tell him they’re just regular blokes?” suggested one of the traders.

“Ya’ think?! How much would our take be, then? Don’t you know of any nearby villages that aren’t under the protection of a lord?” asked his companion. “As for selling warriors, that’s a no-go.”

“If only we could just round up a couple dozen stragglers. We’d still make a tidy sum,” said the other.

“Hey, I have a better idea!” said the second trader jumping up with a smile on his face. “Let’s go see the moneylenders!”

“You’re a genius!” said the first trader, and off they went to do just that.

City life wasn’t easy. Lately the residents had been taxed more heavily than usual, and many of them were struggling to make ends meet. Thus, they sometimes had to resort to the money-lenders, and use their own freedom as collateral. And since the situation in the city was only deteriorating, often they couldn’t make their payments on time. Of course, the moneylenders were often okay with one or two late payments in exchange for a surcharge in the form of a late fee.

As long as they made a profit, that’s what it was all about. The slave traders, though, were able to offer the moneylenders a mutually beneficial agreement, and soon they’d taken over all of the debts. And so it was that in another couple of hours, the now broke but happy slave traders had six hundred people to sell. This consisted of everybody who was unable to pay off their debts, and often it included entire families.

Generally, they didn’t meet with much resistance. The citizenry understood the risks they’d taken when going into debt with the moneylenders, including the loss of their freedom. Some of them begged to be given some time to pay off their loans, but the slave traders were, of course, heartless. They had a buyer, and knew where to go to sell the slaves to him, and so that was that. So after gathering all of the new slaves together, they all headed to the compound being used by the faceless one. This was one of the few places belonging to Messire that hadn’t been torched yet by the black guards.

There they met up with the faceless one. He looked the same, although he now wore different clothes. Small surprise, that, as last time he’d scared off all their other buyers with his appearance. He’d been attired in bloody rags and looked horrific, particularly since he was one of the Master of Flesh’s creations.

“Esteemed faceless one! We heard that you needed slaves. Here are the last of our collection,” bowed one of the traders. “But these were hard to find, and so, forgive me, but we must charge a little more...Just a little...” he said, looking warily at the faceless man’s hand. Fortunately he didn’t move to rest it on the hilt of his sword, and the trader breathed a sigh of relief.

Messire’s servant paused, and then stepped aside to allow the slaves into the compound while gesturing to the traders to stay put. Just then, a pigeon landed on his shoulder and began to carefully study each one of the slaves filing through the gates.

“Cooo!” he stopped one of them with his wing. This was a tall, thin man with thick curly hair. It was enough of a mess to be called a “nest of hair.” “Coooo...Cooo!” the pigeon sounded happy, and taking out some gold coins, he dropped them at the trader’s feet while motioning toward the slave.

The trader looked at the pigeon, then at the faceless one, who simply shrugged.

“But of course...esteemed pigeon,” said the trader, also shrugging. “He is yours!”

“Cooo…” the pigeon nodded and, flapping his wings, he perched atop the lush head of hair and started braiding it with his beak. In no time, he’d created a warm throne of hair for himself. “Coooo!” he said to his astonished slave, who obediently headed in the direction indicated by his avian master.

Once the last slave was in the compound, the faceless man handed a bag of gold to the slave traders, and silently shut the shielded gates of the compound, leaving them outside.

“Well? Count it!” said the other trader, his eyes glowing with excitement, but his companion simply shook his head and stashed the money away.

“What, in the middle of the street? Are you crazy? We’ll head back to our office and divvy it up there.”

The men quickly left, but the faceless man remained standing in place. He understood that many people had suffered because of his actions. These debtors could have stayed in their homes, not lost their freedom, and continued to live in their homeland. But he also understood that the situation in their city was about to, well, erupt. And they’d be better off somewhere else.

* * *

“Okay, look!” I called Cyrus over and indicated the new throng of people. “I have an assignment for you. Warn each of them that this evening, when I give the signal, they must move out in carts to the specified coordinates,” I thrust a note into his hands. “All of them, no exceptions. We’ll have to take everything and load it into carts, and we’ll need to be quick about it.”

“Understood,” nodded Cyrus, although he didn’t look like he fully comprehended what was going on.

But I’d spent most of the day listening to the pigeons’ reports and carefully studying the situation in the city. It should all work out, and maybe even better than expected. On this day I could well become a very rich man, and at the same time destroy more enemies. It might seem like I was just having fun with the powers that be in this offworld city, but that wasn’t the case. All of the local big shots here were dying to destroy my new world, all for plunder. And what I was about to do to them would deprive them of a lot of strength, and that meant less opportunity for them to wreak havoc on the other side of the portal.

I just had one last issue to resolve with myself. Cyrus was turning out to be pretty useful, and so it made sense to take him with me. But over our time together I began realizing that this would be wrong.

“Are you finished?” I asked him as he walked in, and I nodded.

“Yes, my lord. The people are ready, but...Are you sure that your signal to move out is, well, appropriate?”

“I’m sure,” I nodded. Why not, really? It was original, the signal, and so clear. The people would immediately know what it was as soon as they saw it. “I have one more question for you.”

“I’m listening, sir,” he said, sitting in the chair I indicated.

“Tell me where you’re from and how you ended up here,” I looked at him, and he tried to smile, but it didn’t come out well.

“Oh, sir, this is too boring a story,” he gestured dismissively. “I don’t want to sit here and make you yawn with my dull stories,” he looked at my lack of a mouth and realized that I definitely wouldn’t yawn. “Oops...I mean...”

“No matter! Just tell me,” I said in a tone that brooked no opposition.

Cyrus realized that he had to do as told, and since we had a mental connection, he couldn’t lie. And even though he didn’t want to stir up the past at all, it was clear that these were painful memories echoing in his heart, I had to know the details. I had to understand whether or not I should let him go, or take him with me.

“I am from the city of Garen, and was only recently enslaved. After my father’s death, my sister and I got jobs at his previous place of work. So we served in the house of a rich merchant, I as a butler, and my sister cleaned the rooms as best she could,” he sighed. “But at some point a skirmish broke out between my former master and his neighbor, during which warriors burst into the mansion.”

His story was, in fact, quite ordinary, except that during the seizure of the mansion, Cyrus had to protect his sister. One of the warriors wanted her, and before he could drag her into a room, Cyrus stabbed him in the back.

The neighbors eventually made peace; such clashes weren’t uncommon. But because Cyrus had killed the warrior, he had to pay for it with his freedom. His former employer was the one who handed him over to be enslaved, and then he was resold and that is how he’d ended up on the market.

“So you’ve been a slave for a couple of months, then?” I asked.

“No, about six months,” he sighed. “I was already bought, but then when the city became unsettled, that family sold all their property, including me. So you are, so to speak, my second owner.

“So then, do you miss your sister?”

He looked up at me and sighed. “What if I did? My entire life, and my family, too, are as if dead to me now.”

“So you have no hope of returning?” I asked, and he only gave me a crooked smile.

“There is no return once a mental connection has been made. It is for life and it is impossible to undo...

*Snap!* I snapped my fingers and he fell silent as he felt our mental connection break. Why not, really? Not the most difficult seal, and fairly easy to break. But Cyrus was astonished.

Yeah, I could have waited. Now I could no longer communicate with him like before.

“But...but...what does this mean?” he was perplexed. “What’s going on?”

I silently handed him the scroll. It was the slave contract, and if he or I destroyed it, Cyrus would be able to regain his freedom. He took the scroll, but froze with it in his hands, not understanding what I wanted to say. He was worried that it was a trap, and that as soon as he turned around I’d stab him in the back. Although, that would be silly because, anyway, I could kill him at will, so why would I need to play games first? Okay, I needed to clarify matters for the kid.

“Ooof!...” I grunted as I shook my head, restoring my normal good looks. Now Cyrus was even more confused. In fact he was stunned because the “esteemed faceless one” had just morphed into an ordinary person, and that was, in theory, not possible. “Well, now do you get it?” I said, speaking, in so doing increasing Cyrus’s amazement. “You are free! And you have a couple of hours to leave the city. Otherwise, you won’t be able to make it out.”

“You...you’re an offworlder?” Cyrus stammered.

“You guessed it!” I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Run, you don’t have much time.”

“Th…thank you…” his voice trembled, and his hands tightened their grip on the scroll. “So...what you are saying is that by tomorrow there will be little left of the city?”

“Something will remain of the city, but not much will remain of the rulers,” I nodded to him. “Now then, go find your family. And take a bag of gold; it should suffice. Start a new life.”

Cyrus bowed and, tearing up the slave contract, ran off as fast as he could. I hoped it all worked out for him and that he had time to get far enough away.

Of course, I would have liked to take him with me. He’d have made a fine servant. But I had a connection with him, and so I felt that his soul was somewhere else. Thus, I would never have been able to truly earn his loyalty. And separating families for my own benefit violated my personal code.

Okay, time to get down to business. I would need to morph into faceless creep mode a little later, so I stashed the outfit in my shoulder bag and put on a typical guard uniform. Then I picked up a spear, slung my crossbow over my shoulder, and off I went to stir up some trouble.

I was soon in the midst of a crowd of people, many with carts preparing to flee. All of them silently watched me go, and none of them knew what had happened to the faceless man.

There was in the city a single venue that the guards dared not attack. It looked a bit like a coliseum for tournaments or skirmishes. But now, it had been modified to allow some compact structures to be erected where the stands had once been. This was the base where the faceless were trained. It was here that the men enslaved by the Master of Flesh were transformed into the faceless and trained to be death machines.

Well, sort of like machines. It was easy to kill the two faceless ones standing at the entrance. All it took was a loaded crossbow bolt to the head. I wasn’t going to stand on ceremony, so I quickly made my way about without attracting unnecessary attention and always shooting straight into the forehead. No one from the city noticed a thing, as with the onset of darkness all of the streets emptied. Nobody wanted to be out, as clearly these were troubled times. Nobody was safe out at night anymore.

Once inside the stadium, I encountered three more faceless, and one by one I took them out. No artifact was a match for my magic, and my enchanted bolts made it impossible for even the strongest of the faceless to regenerate. Death came to them almost instantaneously.

Kooky set about retrieving my bolts from the corpses while I moved on, eliminating more and more targets along the way. The feathered one had already studied this place, so I knew exactly where I needed to go. And in just five minutes I found myself on one of the balconies that looked out onto the training grounds.

There they were going through drills, the bastards. Three hundred of them were sparring with wooden swords, and practicing repelling attacks, all under the supervision of their commanders. I didn’t know how the level of command was structured among the faceless, but it would seem that they were distinguished by their clothing. The two onlookers were attired in rich armor with golden emblems on their shoulder pads. I’d actually seen their kind before via the images provided by my pigeon reconnaissance network.

Thus, it wasn’t hard to tell who the senior command here was and who their subordinates were. There was a big difference in the power the top commanders emanated, for one, and also those golden emblems.

Nobody noticed me because I was off to the side, standing in the shadows. And the lighting in these parts was on the dim side, which played into my hands. And so hiding my crossbow behind me, I clutched a spear I’d taken from the city guards, filled it to the brim with power, and then I significantly strengthened the muscles of my arms, ligaments and bones. Next, I aimed, and sent the spear sailing into a junior commander’s chest. It was a great throw—before my faceless victim knew it he was pinned to the ground like a butterfly in a biologist’s lab. Then, the energy I’d infused in the spear burst in his body, causing him to rapidly dry up. His blood seeped through his skin and spilled onto the sand.

“Take that you bastards!” I shouted loud enough so that they could all hear me. “That’ll teach you!” Just then, the victim’s blood on the sand exploded into flames and crimson crystals shot out in different directions.

At least twenty of the faceless were killed, and many more were injured. But I didn’t stay to see what happened next. Spinning around I ran off towards the exit.

I’d drawn a lot of attention to myself, and perhaps should’ve fled even sooner. These faceless troops were quite disciplined, and so in no time they’d mobilized and were tearing after me. I’d expected no less, but I needed to ensure their commanders got a good look at me.

After flying through the gates of the stadium onto the deserted streets, I headed for the castle of the chief of the city guard. My faceless pursuers were hot on my trail. We silently sped along, weaving through alleys, moving past buildings and houses in a blur, and now and then I even jumped through one window to exit out through another on the opposite wall. But despite all of my slippery maneuvers the faceless were right behind me.

This was exactly what I wanted. When I was almost right up to the castle, I poured more energy into my legs and sped up even more, and then I ducked down a dark street and dove down a sewer hole and hid.

Hundreds of faceless fighters swarmed over the street above me, silently looking all about for me, but then, not seeing me anywhere, they sought me on the castle grounds. Time now for the real fun to begin. And Kooky had already carried out reconnaissance. My attack had done more then rile up the faceless, who were doing their drills at the stadium. Right now, the gates to Messire’s castle were flung open and detachments of the Master of Flesh’s strongest fighters were marching through them in a column. They headed straight for the castle of the chief of the guard.

I waited for the street above me to grow quiet, and then, morphing into my disguise as one of the faceless, I calmly headed for the castle of the local lord. Now that the city’s two strongest armies were about to start destroying each other, nobody could stop me.

* * *

Some time ago

Faceless Training Grounds

For Norel, the first-rank commander of the faceless, this was just an ordinary evening. As always he was putting the troops through the training regiment, and monitoring how they did, assessing their merits as they sparred. His job was to ensure that the new fighters were ready for action when Messire needed them, and Norel had never given his master any reason to doubt him.

If the commander could feel emotion, he would definitely be standing there wearing a happy face. After all, the master had massively increased their numbers recently in preparation for his invasion of the other world. It was no secret that the number of portals would soon be multiplying.

So the training grounds were filled with lots of especially brutal training that included plenty of blood spilling. Norel retained memories of being a man. His father used to perform in competitions right here in this arena, before it was abandoned and eventually bought by Messire Worlmar, who’d adapted it to his needs.

And as soon as he was old enough and had the stamina, Norel had entered the Master of Flesh’s service. But then, during a battle, he’d made an egregious error, slaughtering several prisoners that Messire intended to use in experiments. However, Messire didn’t execute him. Instead, Worlmar took into account Norel’s merits in battle and presented him with an invaluable Gift. Of course, at the time it didn’t seem like a fortuitous turn of events to him. But he found that he was now one of the faceless, and over time, after faithfully serving his master, he rose to the rank of commander.

The training was in full swing when Norel’s intuition made him look around. The last time he had exactly the same feeling was when he was still human. Then he and his squad were ambushed in a deep gorge, but thanks to Norel’s instincts they managed to avoid serious casualties. True, this time the faceless one cast aside such thoughts. What kind of idiot would even think of attacking the faceless, since they were the minions of Messire himself? To oppose them would be folly, as they were all but invincible, unequaled on the battlefield. And so this would be a routine night at the stadium. Norel had already decided who would perish this time. One of the fighters wasn’t up to speed, and it was their practice to kill the weakest trainee every day. It might look like a mindless waste of resources, but, in fact, it was precisely this type of training that made the faceless forces give it their all. For although they were devoid of emotion, they still retained survival instincts. Without any desire to live, the warriors would be used up too quickly because should the commander order them to, say, kill themselves, they wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

But then what happened genuinely surprised Norel for the first time in quite awhile. The spear that flew past was released with such force that even such an experienced and strong warrior as he did not even have time to flinch, let alone catch it. Naturally, his deputy couldn’t possible dodge the spear, as he was, after all, a lot weaker than his commander.

A rush of thoughts passed through Norel’s head. First, he couldn’t fathom how this could happen, and even wondered if he himself was growing old and had let down his guard. He saw that the deputy had perished, and then turned and saw a frozen city guard on the stands. He then realized that he should have paid attention to his intuition just now. No doubt he’d somehow failed here. But it was hard to digest the thought that someone in this city had dared attack the faceless forces.

And then, Norel went into death machine mode, a true product of Messire’s evil genius in making him an unparalleled warrior. He quickly rolled to the side, grabbed his shield and covered himself, and just in time as then a wave of fire and blood crystals washed over him.

The powerful spell tore apart and burned twenty fighters at once, and the same number were left incapacitated by their wounds. But none of the faceless left standing lost their cool, not even for a second. As soon as Norel saw the guard on the balcony, he’d transmitted an alarm signal using a special artifact, so now they had some serious backup forces pouring out of Messire’s castle. So even if the mage who’d thrown that spear had enough artifacts to destroy everyone in the stadium, he was doomed. He would pay for his impudence, yes he would.

But instead of standing his ground, the city guard turned and fled. The chase was on. All of the faceless silently rushed after the assailant. But he was surprisingly fast, although they stayed hot on his trail.

It was obvious where he was heading. He was trying to save himself by making it to his master’s castle, but they weren’t about to let that happen. Norel knew that Messire’s main forces were also drawing near, and so their victory was assured.

So, although the fugitive had managed to elude them, Norel didn’t care. For now he stood before two higher faceless ones, along with Messire’s senior disciple, who was left in charge by the Master in his absence. Norel didn’t know what the disciple would do. Had he been the one in charge, he’d have ordered all their forces to attack the castle. But he was not the one to make such a serious decision in the absence of Messire.

“Take the castle, and spare no one! Kill them all!” said the senior disciple, and if Norel could smile, he’d do it now. Revenge was still something he could enjoy, and it would soon ensue.

* * *

I ran through the sewers and exited onto the next street, and after changing my clothes I headed for the lord’s castle. They noticed me from afar and started shouting something, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. I just proceeded to the gate. But there wasn’t anything unusual in this because that is usually how the faceless went about passing on messages.

They quit issuing warnings and resorted to firing a bolt into my chest. But I simply turned off my ability to feel pain, and healed the wound unnoticed, letting the bolt protrude from my chest. And upon reaching the gate, I stopped, extracted a small scroll, and then I displayed it to the men on the wall.

For about ten minutes nothing happened, but then a rope ladder was thrown down from the wall, and several defenders of the castle descended.

“What’s that?” asked one of them, pointing at the scroll, but I did nothing. “Tell me!”

Um, I don’t have a mouth, moron.

“Drop it. He’s just a stupid messenger,” said the other guy, waving his hand and snatched my message to the regent from my hands. “You can go. I’ll pass this on to him.”

Hearing this, I turned around and started walking off. Once I’d disappeared around the corner, I then quickly hid where I could see the gates. What I did was climb onto a nearby rooftop.

Kooky let me know when the regent got the message. He was monitoring what was happening in the castle, and when anything important occurred he always let me know.

Soon the regent sent several men to investigate, and half an hour later he received confirmation that what was said in the message was true. After this, the gates swung open, and steel-clad horsemen burst out of it, led by the regent himself. He was anxious to lead his warriors into battle in his desire to take revenge on the offender as quickly as possible, without delay.

“And you said it wouldn’t work,” I smiled, turning to Kooky.

“Coooo...” he shook his head

We sat on the roof for a while longer, watching the column of knights as they retreated. Why kill everyone yourself when it is far easier to stage a small scene so that the enemies fight each other?

At just the right time I’d informed the regent on behalf of Messire that he was taking the city guard’s castle and invited him to help. He knew about the treacherous attack and proposed that they band together to exact revenge, and then divide the spoils equally.

“Fly, peck the bald head,” I sent the bird to convey the message to the slaves. “In the meantime, I’ll deal with everything else.”

“Cooo!” Kooky loved my method for signaling to the slaves it was time to move out, and off he went to find the bald head. There were several of them, actually, and his job now was to peck them all three times. That was the signal for action that the slaves, already in the carts, were awaiting.

Now, there were less than a hundred people left in the castle, and of them only around half were warriors. And so it was that half an hour later I’d taken out anyone who held a weapon. I locked the servants and the smart guys who had the prescience to lose their swords in time inside a big empty storage space.

This done, I climbed up a wall that gave me access to the mechanism for opening the gates, and there I set about waiting. Even should some of the regent’s forces survive and return, now they could no longer enter the castle grounds. But instead of knights I saw a long, creaking line of carts. There was unrest in the city now, but no one dared to attack such a procession. Six hundred people, including women and children, were riding in about one hundred and fifty carts of various hues, and as soon as they approached, I opened the gates for them.

I’d had Cyrus give them clear instructions that when a bald slave was pecked on the top of his head three times by a pigeon, they were to proceed as fast as they could to the lord’s castle, and the slaves followed my instructions to the letter. They dared not disobey their faceless master.

I met them at the entrance, still in the same faceless guise, and immediately handed one of them a scroll with instructions. This slave could read, that’s why I’d selected him. He was the one with the luxurious nest of hair on his head that Kooky so enjoyed.

“By order of Messire Worlmar, we must remove everything from this castle!” he conveyed the order to the others.

“What do you mean by ‘everything’”? asked a bald man with three fresh bumps on his head. “But how?”

“It says to take out everything that isn’t nailed to the floor,” he spread his hands, and I nodded affirmatively.

Everyone worked hard at following the instruction until the break of dawn. They dashed in and out of the castle hauling paintings, weapons, dishes, and furniture out. They loaded it all into the carts and then went back in for more. Two groups of workers even took down the curtains along with the curtain rods, citing the fact that the order clearly stated “Take out everything that is not nailed to the floor.” So as the rods were attached to the walls, they had to be taken. Generally, I was pleased with this group of slaves.

And although the castle seemed quite large, there wasn’t really all that much in the end. At least, not much of value. I told them not to take the obvious junk. What need did I have for a mop bucket, or the mop itself, or for laundry soap?

But the treasury made me happy. Although there wasn’t as much coin in there compared to others, there were many fine bejeweled creations fashioned by skilled artisans. I would sell it all, and probably end up with a fortune.

And when I walked into the treasury, Kooky was already sitting there on a mountain of coins. He looked at me defiantly and made a sort of growling noise under his breath as if to say that I was working too slowly. Right, so next time I’d have him carry the heavy stuff, and no, I wouldn’t bother to disable the magical protection of the armored door.

Meanwhile, Kooky’s aerial reconnaissance detachment was keeping tabs on the siege of the chief of the guard’s castle while we were clearing out the lord’s castle. It turned out the chief was well prepared for the attack and holding back his adversaries. Indeed, two more small armies from neighboring castles had come to his aid. Apparently these were his allies in the city, so the lines were drawn between the powers that be. All in all, a real massacre was ensuing.

But the one who was the most unlucky of all turned out to be the regent. He’d been in such a hurry to help Messire that he hadn’t even sent scouts or anyone else ahead. He’d simply lined up his knights in a wedge and rushed towards the castle. However the faceless didn’t expect him, and so they naturally assumed that the regent’s forces rushing at them were out to attack rather than aid them. It was a chaotic mess, in short, and confusion abounded. In the end, the faceless came out on top. But since the attack came from the rear, they’d suffered heavy losses. And this gave the chief of the guard an extra hour to prepare.

At this point I didn’t bother trying to push my luck, and so signaled to my people to head out. My column of one hundred and thirty-seven carts confused the gatekeepers, and at first they refused to let us pass through out of the city. But as soon as I unsheathed my sword, they decided that it was best to let us go. This was smart, as their own guards weren’t there to protect them, what with being otherwise occupied. These guys were just gatekeepers and so weren’t willing to die doing their job.

As we drew near the portal, I sent Kooky through first to ensure that we wouldn’t face any problems on the other side. And in another five minutes I stepped out of the portal into my world. Right...lots of deep craters from explosions, shreds of tents and such all about, and body parts from dead offworlders and faceless ones.

The first tower for the Vanessas had been completed, and this was the result. I must say that the artifacts I’d spent acquiring these Vanessas were well worth it. The Vanessa cannons had never gained popularity in the army, or among aristocrats, and this was their loss. In terms of precision they were unequaled, and their power was simply terrifying.

I’d left instructions before embarking on this mission to have the first Vanessa ready for action and to then raze the camp at the portal to the ground. Messire’s protection was top notch, but the massive shells easily shattered the energy dome, and then my artillerymen dealt with all the rest simply by firing salvo after salvo. After that, they’d picked off any survivors trying to make it to the Master of Flesh’s base camp. My plan was to keep him in the dark for as long as possible.

My long convoy of carts creaked through the portal, and headed straight for the castle. As we left the city I’d seen the surprised eyes of random witnesses goggling at us from half-open windows, and now everyone we passed looked at us the same way. Of course, the previous convoys were loaded with seedlings and livestock, but now I was transporting truly valuable goods.

Victoria came out to meet us. She, too, looked at the line of carts with genuine amazement, which didn’t change when she looked at me. Oh yeah, I forgot to return to my usual appearance. The excess skin that covered my eyes and mouth dissolved, and the countess could see my smile.

“We need to contact the auctioneers today,” I said, greeting her. “Meanwhile, you can start thinking about how to spend the money. You’re better at that than I am.”

Vika tilted her head to the side, offended, and I laughed.

But what I wanted was to lie down and rest. I felt like staring at the ceiling thinking about nothing at all, immerse myself in a deep meditation, tweak my magical channels, and work on developing my source. Actually, what with my crazy lifestyle I’d anyway been developing it, but I could always enhance the process.

But no, after a couple of hours we had to set off again. When I passed through the portal, I saw columns of smoke rising above the city. Kooky had already done a survey of the scene and reported that this city was finished. Done with.

“What do you mean by ‘done with’”? I asked.

“Cooo!” he spread his wings. “Cooo-coo-coo,” he ran his wing across his throat. “Cooo-coo-cooooo!!!

“Hey, no need for that kind of language!”

“Cooo...” he uttered by way of apology.

“Who taught you to swear like a sailor?” I sighed. “Okay, let’s go back.”

The city guards were done with, the army slaughtered, with only a few getting away. And now Messire’s castle was under siege, as the remaining battered armies had banded together to get rid of their strongest competitor.

In short, everyone was seriously at odds with each other. And not only the nobility, but random groups of brigands had gathered on the streets to join in the plunder, trying to snatch what they could from the slaughter. Chaos, carnage, fires. It was too risky to hang out here now.

And as there was no one near the portal it was gradually losing its stability. However, a lot of energy had accumulated in this place of power, so as soon as it did close, another would appear. But not in the very same place. True, judging by the new craters in the ground and the corpses scattered about, the faceless ones were still trying to send messengers out. But it wasn’t all that easy to hide from guns and pigeon reconnaissance.

“Hmm…” I thought. “Kooky, I have a new interesting solution.”

“Cooo?!” he shook his head. “Cooo...cooo!!!”

“I already know that you’re ready to do anything to stop me from shrinking your package, so to speak,” he misunderstood me. “But that’s not what this is about. Let’s not go back to the city, okay?”

“Cooo?” Kooky was surprised, as he thought there were still a lot of trophies in the ruins and it would be a shame to give them up.

“Yes, there are, but we no longer have carts. We bought them all up already! And we can’t haul everything off.”

“Cooo!” he suggested.

“What? What tanks?! Do you want them all to join forces against us? Let’s leave them to fight each other,” I said, waving my hand at him. “Just watch them a while longer, and you’ll understand what I’m saying.”

We stepped to the side and in a couple of minutes a faceless man ran out of the portal. This time, though, I ordered my men to hold their fire and await my command.

I let the Master of Flesh’s servant run off to the camp, and in the meantime I returned to the portal. I didn’t know for sure what would ensue, of course, but if what I hoped would happen worked out, well, it would be the height of Messire’s idiocy. It wasn’t likely to transpire as I wished, of course, but it was worth a try.

I put my hand on the portal and helped it close and waited for a new one to appear, which didn’t take long at all. Then I called for the plane and soon was able to observe the scene from a safe distance. It took Messire three hours to show up. He didn’t even wait for them to pack up his camp, leaving only a few dozen faceless there while he hustled back home pronto-fasto. He ran through the portal, followed by several more of his servants. But this time they couldn’t go home, because now the portal was leading them elsewhere. At this point the Vanessas began their monotonous work, and a hail of shells fell upon Messire’s forces left behind.

Explosions thundered, flashes sparkled, and shrapnel whistled. And although Messire’s mages immediately erected impenetrable barriers and also activated several protective artifacts, the density of the fire forced all of Messire’s forces to hastily head for the portal. And as soon as the last fighters disappeared in the bright flash of the spatial transition, I quickly disembarked from the plane and closed it. The place of power may try to open the portal again, but I needed to get some rest. And so I damaged the spatial coordinates such that it would take awhile for any new portals to open around here.

It would be interesting to see the Master of Flesh’s face when he realized that the way back to my world was closed. But no, better for me to rest in my castle, and yes, I needed to call the auctioneers. I had quite the surprise for them.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Imperial Auction House Headquarters

Conference room

“I heard that there was a new lot put up for sale at the British Central Auction,” the director showed the others his screen, and an approving hum was heard.

“An artifact that allows you to create an antigravity field. Nice!”

“So how did it go? Did we manage to acquire it?” asked another.

“Yeah, in your dreams! The price shot up over five million in one hot minute,” the director chuckled. “I didn’t bother looking at what else was there. Nothing struck me as worth much.”

“Yes, the British like to spend money,” nodded the manager of the artifact sales department. “But they go for trash all too often.”

“What makes it trash?” asked the manager of the equipment sales department. “With that artifact, anyone could create a powerful aerial combat vehicle, so that would more than pay for any losses on the other stuff.”

“By the way, did you hear that Duke Kuzintsev is going to put an offworld painting up for sale?” asked the manager of the art department.

“Really?” asked the others. “What, is he selling that pissing demon of his?”

“No, such items are never for sale...Although he didn’t reveal any details; he just alerted us.”

The desultory talk went on, and then the phone rang. Everyone immediately fell silent and looked questioningly at the director.

“Bulatov is calling,” he waved his hand and put the call on hold. “What’s the news about him, by the way??”

“We have to give him fifteen million, almost all the lots have already sold,” answered the person responsible for the sale of the count’s property. “Uh-huh. They actually all sold above the estimated price.”

“So shall I take the call and report? There were no problems?” again the director picked up the phone.

“There were…” the man sighed heavily. “Two lots were accidentally damaged during transport, but they weren’t worth much, so losses were minimal.”

“Listen, why do you think he’s calling?”

“He probably wants his money, why wonder about it?” laughed the art manager. “Or don’t you know much about our clients?”

“But is the detailed report ready?” asked the director, looking at the accountant, who shook his head. “Shall we tell him we’re busy and so we’ll talk tomorrow? I’m not ready to report on every item, after all.”

“Well, what if he has more to sell?” said someone, and after a pause, the room exploded in laughter.

“What more could he have? We used four planes to clear out his massive storage facility. Or do you think he rounded up some offworlders to transport more plunder in carts? Hah!” they all broke out laughing again.

“Okay, guys, quiet now!” the director wiped away tears of laughter, and brought the phone to his ear. “Yes, good afternoon, Mikhail! We haven’t forgotten about you, don’t worry.”

“When can you get here?” asked Bulatov right away. “Aren’t you a serious operation, or what? We’ve got unfinished business to deal with.”

“But...but... What’s this about?” the auctioneer frowned. “Our contract clearly states that we must sell your goods within thirty working days, and then we generate a report and transfer your payment. We’ve sold it all far ahead of deadline!”

“Ah, you’re talking about money?” chuckled Bulatov. “I’m not calling about that. We agreed that as soon as I have new goods, you will immediately come and pick them up.”

Silence reigned in the room, and the men looked at each other in amazement.

“Yes, and if it’s the thunderstorm that’s worrying you, don’t. It’s already passing, so it’s safe to fly,” added Bulatov.

“This is wonderful news, and thank you for calling. We will gladly accept the invitation,” the surprised director nodded. “So tell me, should we send a regular cargo helicopter or a reinforced one? The cost of delivery will depend on this, so I recommend that you provide us with an estimate of the volume of goods in advance.”

“Hmmm... How about four planes?”

“But...”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not right,” went on Bulatov, and the director, whose forehead was covered in sweat, breathed a sigh of relief. “You’d better bring six planes. Yes...I think six should suffice. If we need to we can pack everything in, one way or another. How much will delivery cost, you say?”

“Er...the cost..?” whispered the director as the phone fell out of his hands.

Just then Bulatov sent a photo of his storage facility filled to the brim with paintings and art from the offworld, and at that point the director looked so ill that they called for a Healer. What really put him over the edge was the image of Bulatov himself, wearing a crown and a red and white robe and holding a golden scepter in one hand while swigging costly offworld wine from a bottle, and all this as he sat on a throne in the middle of the cavernous room.

Chapter 2

“M...M...MMMESSIRE!” stuttered the Master of Flesh’s top minion, who’d accompanied him on this venture into the other world. He was just now comprehending that the portal had led them astray.

But by then, Worlmar already knew this. He stood there, cautiously looking around. He was trying to fathom what had happened. How had they ended up where they were? What about the city? Where was it? Frankly, the Master of Flesh was bewildered. They seemed to be in the same environs as the city, judging by the landscape. That small, sparse forest with its rustling leaves nearby looked sort of familiar, and he also saw some rolling meadows, but where he expected to see the city all he saw was a lake. Worlmar was confused, because his messenger had told him that the city was still at least functioning. Had someone used powerful magic or summoned an Archmage of Water?

But no, that would be nonsense, and the Master of Flesh cast such thoughts out with a grim chuckle. His brain just couldn’t accept the notion that he’d somehow been tricked and led through a completely different portal. But after thinking a bit, he swung around and rushed back.

“Back! Back through the portal, idiots!” He tried to stop the others behind him still emerging from the portal. The faceless had already passed through, but mercenaries were now trying to crowd out. Panicked, they pushed and shoved each other, stumbling and tripping. “I said go back!” the mage shouted as he tried squeezing through the burgeoning throng, but with limited success.

“No way! They’re pummeling us with magic there! Everything is ablaze!” cried a mercenary rushing forward and slamming hard into Messire’s shoulder as he passed.

Worlmar grabbed him and melted his flesh with a powerful burst of magic. The next guy suffered a worse fate when Worlman turned him over to the higher faceless.

It was a chaotic mass of terror as the mercenaries found themselves trapped between hellish fire on the other side of the portal, and an enraged Master of Flesh on this side. Eventually, though, Messire managed to make it back to the portal, only to find that it was closed.

“But how!?” Stunned, he attempted a series of magical manipulations, and couldn’t believe his eyes. How had that earthling bastard done it? Only mages from Worlman’s world could close portals like that, and none of them could make it happen so swiftly.

And yet this portal was no more. Messire couldn’t find a trace of a spatial transition, nothing.

“Don’t distract me,” he muttered to his minions. “And contain the others. Take their weapons. They’re my slaves now,” he instructed the faceless, motioning toward the mercenaries. Then he made himself comfortable in the clearing and closed his eyes.

Deep in meditation, Worlmar attempted to contact the control crystal in his castle. Only six hours later, when he’d all but depleted his energy, did he succeed in procuring a weak response.

“Master, you called?” asked his top servant, and Worlmar opened his eyes and sighed.

“Yes,” he nodded, “start preparing for a long trek. My castle is one and a half thousand kilometers to the northwest, and we must leave tomorrow.”

“But that’s almost a whole month on the road!” exclaimed his servant, but then, catching a glare from his master, he scuttled off to carry out the order.

* * *

Strange, but at first they didn’t seem to want to tell me how much money I’d made. But then, about twenty minutes after we’d talked, the auctioneers sent me a detailed report by email. It looked like that last batch of trophies I’d had auctioned off netted me over fifteen million. And just a couple of minutes later the money was deposited into the Family account. Now our financial situation simply delighted me.

And this was just the beginning. What lay before me was a lot more of these dealings. And finally I could relax, because I could anticipate a steady stream of income from sales for many months to come. After all, I wasn’t about to offload everything I’d just acquired all at once!

After setting a date to meet up with the auctioneers, I then set off to meet with the man who suffered the most from my industriousness. That would be Timothy, who was not only in charge of our storage facilities, but also managed the castle staff and household affairs. I called him my quartermaster. Like usual, I found him sitting in our largest storeroom scribbling away in a ledger. But as soon as I walked in he stood up with a smile. Yes, I’d greatly improved his health, so now he was fit and limber and could even, should he so desire, help with unloading as well as any laborer. In fact, he was quick to help out, as he was the sort who simply wanted to get things done. And then, he could get back to his office.

“Well then, how are you? Keeping it all together? Are you liking your work?” I sat in the visitor’s chair, motioning for him to take a seat, too.

“It’s great work,” he smiled. “Simply wonderful!”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” I nodded. Yes, everyone should like their job. Timothy might be a great pilot, but now he’d moved on from the wild blue yonder. Unlike when he was young, he was no longer drawn to soaring through the skies.

“Well, what do we need, those of us running the warehouses? We want them to be stocked with a constant flow of goods, in and out. What comes around goes around,” he quipped, seeing how surprised I was. After all, he seemed to be begging for loads of work, which meant, of course, more work for me, as well. Hello! What about rest?

“In the army, the warehouses were mostly idle. And the biggest excitement was when they had to write off ammo that had expired. Otherwise, all they did was sit around trying to look busy when the boss was around,” Timothy shrugged. “Oh, by the way,” he remembered and bending over, he crawled under the table. And then he began to take out thick books, one after another. Whole stacks of ledgers; at a guess they each weighed about five kilograms. Thick, weighty, and entirely handwritten.

“What is all that?” I grabbed one of them and opened it. “Hmmm...so you’re tracking everything that goes in and out of our storage facilities?” I said, studying his records. It looked like he’d even listed the seedlings in a special column.

“It’s all recorded! Everything!” he announced with pride.

“Well, that’s all pretty old-school, using hard-copy records. A computer would be simpler, and also more convenient.”

“Ha! I knew you would say that!” he exclaimed and pulled a compact laptop from a desk drawer. “I’ve duplicated it all here, everything!”

“It’s scary to imagine how much time you spent on this…” I sighed.

“Oh, don’t worry. I could handle more volume,” he assured me. “This record keeping is only a small part of what I do.”

In fact, Timothy’s responsibilities also included checking each new item that came into our storage facilities. He also knew exactly where everything was, including the cartridge calibers and in which box on which shelf they were to be found. This essential information was, thanks to him, systematized, and the mechanism for receiving something from a warehouse or wherever was fully automated and functioned like clockwork.

Thus, should Chernomor send a guard over to procure cartridges for a certain model of rifle, no problem. It would take a mere minute to find and deliver the box of cartridges, so the guard could make a speedy delivery to Chernomor.

It was important, as well, to check out our trophies. What if, for example, there turned out to be less ammo in a box than expected? That would mean the database was incorrect, and that would be unacceptable. Then, a big inventory would have to be taken, which could take weeks. We didn’t have that kind of time to waste. But we couldn’t risk our artillerymen running out of shells in the heat of battle.

“This box was sealed, closed, had to be broken,” Timothy pointed to a long wooden box. We were now in a subterranean warehouse, and I was looking at the goods for the auctioneers. “At first we weren’t sure if it was worth opening, as the contents had been listed outside. Look,” he indicated some scribbles written on the box. “This says that inside are simple spears. These are issued en masse to militias in the event of an enemy attack.”

“So then what? Did you check to verify the contents?”

“Ah!” he smiled, and pushed aside a board. “There is contraband in that world too, and we ended up with it.”

Inside were high-quality spears made by a skilled craftsman. The shafts were gilded and had patterns on them that our Artifactor could infuse with powerful spells, and the tips were fashioned from reinforced steel with high energy conductivity. In short, these weren’t simple spears at all, and no, we wouldn’t be passing them out to just anybody.

At first we discussed the notion of selling the spears separately, but then we decided we’d just put all this stuff together and sell it in one big lot. No doubt some collector would pay much more to learn the story behind how the offworlders smuggle contraband.

I then checked out how our display for the auctioneers was coming along. Of course, we weren’t going to show them everything we got from the castle. All we were offloading now was cheap stuff along with just a couple of exclusive exhibits.

We’d set up a display of wooden mannequins wearing armor in our first hall. This included one outfitted as a city guard, and a knight in a cuirass with a faceless commander’s gilded shoulder pads. He also wore chain mail, boots, and gloves. All of this was beautifully displayed for them, and behind each exhibit were boxes containing the same items, but already packed for transportation.

We had all sorts of junk piled up in the next room. Simple furniture, pots, and household utensils that the townspeople would buy at the market. I really did have a lot more of these everyday items than last time. And that was even taking into account that I was keeping the most valuable things. For example, I wasn’t about to sell the painting of the pissing dragon, not yet. I might want to check out the international auction scene. Maybe I could get more for it there. And if I was to put everything up for sale at once, we’d saturate the market and lower the prices. And, finally, I had no need to sell off all my stock.

By way of offering some especially interesting items, I included a crown, scepter and regal robe along with a throne. I’d found all of these royal trappings in a back room at the triple lord’s castle. I suspected that these items alone would suffice to cover all my financial needs.

I was distracted from looking at the exhibits by a guard who ran into the gallery and asked me to come to the command center we’d set up at the castle. Something was going on and Chernomor needed me. But why? I needed to tell him to immediately let me know what was going on when he sent a courier so I could then decide if it was urgent enough for me to drop whatever it was that I was doing.

Anyway, I finished my survey of the exhibit to make sure it was all ready for the auctioneers’ arrival. I wanted an assessment of what these trophies were worth, but all in good time.

“Well, what is it? Why did you summon me?” I walked into our command center and looked around. I was surrounded by screens with videos broadcasting whatever, interactive maps and computers. All around me people were scurrying about, checking readings from surveillance sensors and coordinating the intelligence network. It looked like operations were in full swing. And in the center of the spacious room, which we’d situated in almost our deepest bunker, was a long table. Chernomor was there discussing something with some of our officers, but as soon as everyone saw me, they all stood up and gave a military salute.

By the way, I’d paid even more for this entire command center and its outfitting than for all the equipment and weapons for the guards over the last month. But I didn’t want to tell Chernomor about this, or else I’d have to heal him, for surely he’d have a heart attack.

As I’d made my way here I thought about all of the trophies I was having auctioned off. Was I being too hasty? Perhaps I should instead curb my appetite and sell less? As it was, my lowball estimate of what I was passing on to the auctioneer would bring me at least thirty million. Even fifty million was entirely possible. And that was a serious amount of money, enough to generate rumors that would inevitably make the rounds among the aristocrats. That was always the way it happened--word would get out, and in no time they’d know about it in Arkhangelsk.

The Bulatovs were flush with cash, and soon they’d have more. So then I’d again be faced with the prescient need to protect my lands. Anyway, our neighbors may become active again, and very soon, but we weren’t ready for this just yet. Although yes, we were working hard at getting the rest of the Vanessa towers built and that was going to be a nasty surprise for them.

And as for the villages, in addition to underground fortified bunkers, I was having high walls built, and I was adding protection to our fields. Of course, we had to stop some works in progress due to an acute shortage of stone. It turned out to be a lot easier to find earth mages than it was to keep a sufficient supply of building materials flowing in. I’d already used up most of what Konakov had, and his old friend didn’t have enough rock for me, either.

“Mikhail, some new reports have come in,” said Chernomor, indicating the map spread out on the table in front of him. “Attacks from the Grishanov estate are increasing.”

“So what’s new? Anyway the attacks have been a regular feature,” I said, not understanding what the big deal was.

“Well, in tandem with this, more reports have come in of offworld forces heading our way from his lands, and so...” Right, that was suspicious. “Even offworlders that emerge through portals on our lands and head for Grishanov end up turning back to harass us after a while. They even burned down one of our evacuated villages.”

“What for?” I asked. Offworlders were usually after plunder. It wasn’t worth it to them to come here to raze villages.

“They were just passing by and threw torches at the houses,” Chernomor said, throwing up his hands. “And so...”

“What, do you think they’re working with Grishanov now?” I interrupted him.

“Yes, it has occurred to me,” he said, “It only makes sense.”

I had to agree. Even at the start of this storm it was suspicious how many offworld detachments would head our way from his territory.

“According to our intelligence, it seems that Grishanov is working through an offworld contact,” went on Chernomor.

“Well, that makes sense,” I said. “Maybe it’s even some kind of Mentalist? Or just a regular offworlder who has some kind of sway with his kind? Maybe he offers them a lot of money or something. In any event, I’m sick and tired of him,” I said to the room at large. “Chernomor, assemble the troops! Time to discipline our neighbor again.”

“I’m always happy to help,” smiled Chernomor, but then he sighed and said, “but our forces are already occupied with other matters, so right now I can summon no more than seventy men.”

“Not quite enough, no...” I frowned. I felt like I was always bringing in new guardsmen, and recruiting as many as I could, but there were never enough of them.

“Well, it is what it is!” Chernomor said. “However, we’ll make it happen!”

“Yeah...” I muttered. “Okay, gather the guards, and I’ll call for reinforcements,” I said, not mentioning that the upcoming operation might require truly strong fighters.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, but I couldn’t say the same about punitive actions. And Grishanov had truly wronged me, so I’d best let him know that ASAP. So while everyone was getting ready, I decided to call the baron. Actually, I was calling his stand-in, because, as far as I knew, Grishanov himself hadn’t yet recovered from the poisoning.

“With whom do I have the honor of speaking?” I heard a young voice ask.

“Count Bulatov. I want...” I didn’t have time to finish, because whoever it was abruptly hung up on me. “Damn! Bastard!” but I kept my cool and simply called him again. “I’m Count Bulatov, I’m calling to…” I spoke faster now, but still didn’t have time to finish.

So I tried to call three more times, but without success. In the end, there were only short beeps, and by then I was sure they simply didn’t want to talk to me. However, they still had to hear me out. So I texted them a message. No matter how proud Grishanov’s offspring was, out of curiosity he would read it and draw his own conclusions.

I wrote to him how offended I was by his behavior. It wasn’t acceptable, using offworlders to attack enemy lands. What I meant was that I could do it, but he couldn’t. But of course, that’s not what I told him. My situation was different, you see, unique.

I told him that at six in the evening, I would attack certain territories and take them for myself as compensation. And I advised him to withdraw all of his troops, or else I would have to use force and kill them. I even told him where I would cross the border and in which direction I would be moving, and then I sent him a fragment of a map depicting the territories I planned on capturing.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Grishanov estate

Main office

“How dare he?” The young aristocrat paced around the room, his face red with rage. “Worm! Low-life!” He’d just hung up on the scumbag Count Bulatov. “What he should be doing is crawling to me on his knees to beg me for mercy! He needs to return the mines and pay me compensation. I’m going to grind him into dust!”

“Maybe you should talk to him?” his sister said in a soothing voice as she took a sip of a refreshing Pinot Noir.

Also present in the office were the commander of the guard and several distant relatives. All had come to the mansion after learning of the baron’s dire health. Some were there because they cared about him, while others were hoping to score some benefits from “helping.”

“Why should I talk to him?” the young baron flared up. “What do I have to discuss with the twit?”

“For example, you could tell him what you told us half a minute ago,” the girl chuckled. It was far from her first glass of wine, and therefore she was amused by her brother.

“Words are only for weaklings and cowards! For a real man, his sword and actions do the talking!” he said hotly. “What’s this?” he noticed a a new message.

He ran his eyes over the screen and then blanched as he plopped into a chair. Then he showed the text message to the others.

“It seems you now have the opportunity to say what you want with your sword and actions,” his sister chuckled.

“Y-yes...” the young baron’s hands trembled slightly, and the phone almost slipped out of his sweaty palms. But then he pulled himself together and began calling Bulatov. “He’s not picking up his phone!” the befuddled young Grishanov exclaimed, chalk white now. “What should I do?”

And for the next half hour swearing and shouting resounded in the room. It turned out to be rather difficult to come to an agreement on such matters without their father. And so the young baron even turned to the commander of their guard for help. That being said, Grishanov’s children had been raised in an aristocratic environment and had grown up with a decent amount of self-confidence, and they had certain principles. One of them forbade them to consult with anyone below them in rank. Especially with some commoner, even if he commanded their troops.

“We should attack first!” declared the young baron.

“Idiot! Bulatov isn’t as weak as we thought,” responded a distant relative who’d thus far been silent. He sat in the corner of the room and simply watched what was happening. “Many have learned this the hard way, including us.”

“Oh, that was pure luck. I have seen the intelligence reports; this Bulatov is a pauper and prone to suicidal attacks, that’s why it worked before,” the young baron waved it off.

“Yes, his victories are inexplicable,” the relative partially agreed with him. “The Families who thought they had good intelligence on him couldn’t explain it. He knows exactly where our ambushes are, but we cannot succeed in monitoring him with drones. And Bulatov doesn’t use them either; they already tried setting up electronic warfare stations, but to no avail. There’s a rumor that he possesses the Gift of Invisibility.”

“Does such a Gift exist?” asked someone, and they all looked at the man in the corner. He just shrugged. “Well, nobody ever sees him coming.”.

“Okay,” the baron shook his head, “the question is why did he forewarn us of this attack? Maybe it’s a trap, and he actually plans on attacking us elsewhere?”

“I agree, it looks very much like that,” his sister nodded.

“Then we need to prepare for action at key points of our barony,” the baron thought and looked at the map. “Galatov, come here,” he called the commander over. “Set up defensive lines here, here, and here,” he pointed to the estate itself and the mines. These were the most valuable objects in the barony. “And block any route to the remote mines. There are narrow gorges there that should be easy to defend.”

“Yes sir!” Galatov nodded and, saluting, left to do as told. “You snot-nosed punk…” he muttered through grit teeth once he was sure that no one could hear.

* * *

We got ready pretty quickly and even managed to drink some tea at the border with the Grishanov estate. We had some time to kill, because, after all, it would be rude to start before my deadline. I was glad I’d brought a couple of thermoses with me. Each one contained five liters of hot black Oolong tea.

The troops also settled down to rest, and we even had enough time to grill shashlik. The only thing we left behind was cold beer. That would’ve been too much.

In addition to my army, I brought along almost all of my offworld mages. Also the bikers with their runologist, along with Belmore, Mira, of course my Defender, and the three primary earth mages. Their apprentices would be of little use, although it would be worth it to train them in combat conditions someday. Nor would Willson and the Druids be of use right now, so why not let them keep at their work?

After waiting until the deadline, I gave the order to move out. Calmly, slowly, and without any subterfuge. Of course, the feathered scouts had studied the area in advance and shot down several drones. The undead also managed to eliminate a couple dozen scouts in the nearby forests.

“I don’t understand,” Victoria sighed. “You told them the place and time where we would attack. And so why don’t they have anyone here to stop us?”

“Well, I was operating under my old world’s protocols. But I see that I’ve confused them,” I said, spreading my hands. “It’s not customary here, no, so they might think it’s a trick.”

“Right, they think you must have a reason to act so boldly, eh? Like some kind of trump card hidden up your sleeve?” laughed Vika.

“Yes, it really is hidden,” I smiled. “So it’s all fair and square.”

“Trumps are from a card game, right?” asked Nur-gal just then. “I don’t like card games; you can’t defend yourself in them…” he muttered. “I mean, you can, but attacks are more important. And I’m a Defender, remember?”

“We remember, Nurik,” Vika stroked his head and he immediately calmed down. “Don’t fret. We’re counting on you to defend us.”

“What...? Even in a card game?” he looked at Vika.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “Just remember. Even if you feel like it, don’t play cards with Mikhail. He always says it’s your turn even if it’s his turn.”

By now we’d long ago crossed the border into Grishanov’s lands and had yet to encounter anyone. And we were openly traveling on the roads, but all of the outposts we came across had been abandoned. It would be futile for our enemy to hide, of course, as we had pigeons out there exploring everything and everywhere. To make it easier to communicate with them I’d brought Innokenty with us. He was coordinating our pigeon network, translating bird-speak and passing on their reports.

“Ach! You bastard!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Go there yourself!” he shouted at one of the combat pigeons.

“What is it?” I asked. “Did they again tell you to go to hell?”

“They’ve learned our curse words and constantly employ them,” sighed our bird nerd as he pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

“Well, you’re not averse to swearing either, so what’s holding you back?” I chuckled.

“Nothing, but I don’t want to,” he said. “I unleashed on them once, and that was enough. After that I had to wash my clothes after each walk I took. And I’m considering shaving my head.”

Eventually, Kooky flew up to report that enemy forces were advancing to meet us. But I was so uninterested in actually fighting right then that I decided to employ a distraction that I had as a backup plan.

“Bombers!” I shouted, and a flock of powerful combat birds loaded to the brim rose into the air. This was a special unit comprised of the biggest of the pigeons. I’d also increased their endurance and carrying capacity by lengthening their wings and strengthening their muscles.

In addition, I deployed another detachment of combat birds. These small, but swift pigeons could easily deal with swarms of enemy drones. They always attacked from above so as to avoid being caught on camera. We didn’t need the enemy finding out why their drones would suddenly malfunction and shut down. Soon, the bombers started dropping their loads. They bombed an empty village and then made their way through the mines, thereby forcing the enemy to retreat. The command thought that our army was large enough to attack them from the rear, and so off they went to defend their mines and other key objects.

But that wasn’t my goal at all. I’d laid it all out on the maps. I was only after a small chunk of territory. And we were almost there. I could already see high hills covered with grass in the distance. Our road passed right between them, then turned into a deep gorge. Beyond this were enemy fortifications, but I had no reason to go near them.

These hills had gradually formed over time. Georgy had studied the archives and found out that once upon a time there were deep lakes here. But then, the Grishanovs showed up, and opened numerous mines, and they’d dumped the waste rock here. Lots of rock. All kinds of rock. Crushed stone, granite fragments, various boulders and rocks galore. Hundreds of hectares of deposits of a resource that was most valuable to me, which miners have been dumping here for a hundred years. And the gorge at the end of the former lakes could be blocked simply by constructing a high wall.

“They are so pathetic…” Chernomor couldn’t stand it and covered his face with his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“They could have set up ambushes all over the place. Our pigeons wouldn’t have helped us,” he sighed. “But these idiots hid beyond the gorge right where they are most vulnerable to our deadly pigeons.”

“Well, how were they to know?” I shrugged. “They thought we’d enter the gorge.”

“You mean we’re not going to do that?” asked Chernomor.

“No we’re not. We have arrived,” I smiled, motioning to the column to stop. “Halt!”

“What? These are simply hills with lousy soil, not worth it!” Chernomor was indignant. “And we can sweep away Grishanov’s forces, grab the mines and villages. Or were we simply after this empty land?” he said, waving at the surrounding hills.

“Bingo. Spot on,” I spread my hands and looked at my earth mages. “Is there enough material? Erect a wall right there. Make it around thirty meters high.”

“Oh, there’s enough here for more than just a wall. We can dig a bunker and strengthen it, construct a city, build a few towers... Ouch!” Ludwig cried out. “That hurts!”

“Shut up, idiot!” Toren muttered through clenched teeth.

“Okay, then, go at it! First the wall, and since you volunteered, all the rest,” I said with a sly grin. “And the rest of you cover them from attack,” I said to the rest of the team, and then went to set up the tent. The construction would take some time, and we still had tea, and meat to roast. How could I ignore this opportunity for a respite?

The mages began to lift stone right away, creating a massive roaring sound. They proceeded to melt it, form even blocks, and erect a wall. All of this raised a cloud of dust around me, but I didn’t care. My aerial reconnaissance network wasn’t impacted, and we were inside an offworld tent. Good time for a tea break.

The construction lasted until the evening, and the exhausted mages had to be rejuvenated several times. But overall, it went well, with no surprises from the enemy. Towards nightfall I sent a message to Grishanov to tell him to relax. The indicated territory was now mine, and once we got back to the castle Victoria would prepare the official paperwork.

“I’d have never thought that an offworld tent could be so nice,” said Vika, relaxing in a cushy chair with an anticipatory smile as she looked at the smoking meat on the grill.

“You surprise me! What do you mean that you never would have thought it?” I was slightly offended. “This is a senior officer’s tent, woven from magical skins, and enchanted to suppress noise both inside and outside. It also filters the air and maintains a comfortable temperature. It’s just that your Gifted don’t know how to properly fuel this kind of magic,” I said, laying out the facts. If the assessors in this world knew what a tent like this was all about I could have sold it for twelve million.

“I get it,” said Chernomor then, immersed in his thoughts. “Territory grabs are all good. But why didn’t we go further? Their army is only a stone’s throw away.”

“But why should we?”

“This is a wasteland here! What is it good for?” Chernomor was almost sputtering.

“Chernomor, you still don’t comprehend it? What is it we need most of all right now?” I could see by his expression that he was finally getting it. “I have found what we have been seeking. These unremarkable hills are actually piles of rock! And this stone will be enough for us to rebuild at least half of our castle and more.”

“And it’s also not far from the castle,” begrudgingly admitted Chernomor.

“That’s right! Right now Georgy is negotiating some deals for equipment and...” I looked at my watch and said, “in two or three hours heavy machinery will start arriving. Dump trucks, bulldozers, and more.”

“Ack!” Chernomor choked on his tea. “So you allocated two hundred and fifty thousand for the guard and ten million for construction machinery?”

“Ah!” I smiled. “But you were happy to get just two hundred and fifty.”

“Not anymore. Comparatively speaking that’s peanuts.”

* * *

Later that night

Central Arkhangelsk Hospital for Aristocrats

Intensive care unit

*Pip! Pip!*

Baron Grishanov opened his eyes with difficulty and beheld the white hospital ceiling. Medical equipment was flashing all around him and he heard a steady beeping sound, while doctors bustled about.

The poison had seriously damaged his health, but the baron was strongly Gifted, and his hardened body was able to cope with the lethal toxicity and claw back out of the “world beyond.” Of course, expensive medicines and the best doctors in the country also helped with this, but the main credit for his survival was primarily his own stamina.

Grishanov woke up, and a warm realization spread through his heart that all his relatives had gathered in the corridor to personally support him at this difficult time. They really cared about him.

“Sir! Esteemed baron! Would you like to see anyone?” asked a young doctor leaning over his bed.

“Who is in charge of the Family now?” croaked the baron.

“As far as I know it is your eldest son.”

“Call him!” nodded Grishanov, again closing his eyes.

“Father!” exclaimed the young baron. “We’ve missed you so much! How are you? How are you feeling? The doctors say you’ll get better soon!”

“I’m fine, I’m much better,” nodded Grishanov Sr. “Well, how have you been managing? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, father…” the boy said uncertainly and lowered his gaze.

“Well? Talk to me!” growled his father.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that uncle is in a coma…” he sighed. “He was injured in a duel.”

“Who was able to take a monster like him out?” laughed the baron.

“Bulatov.”

*Pip-pip-pip...*

The device that stood next to the bed began to beep a little louder and more frequently, and the baron’s son frowned.

“Also, a new anomaly has appeared. A lot of portals have opened and bands of offworlders are emerging from them,” he said as the medical machinery began beeping even more loudly. “But don’t worry, father! I handled it all!”

*Pip-pip-pip...*

The machinery calmed down a little, and the young baron continued.

“Remember that offworlder you recruited?” he whispered. “I sent him to do some deal-making and we’ve dispatched enemies to Bulatov’s lands! Almost all of the offworlders that he recruited set off to cause some havoc there.” At this point Grishanov Sr.’s pulse was almost normal and he no longer looked distressed. He even smiled a little. “But Bulatov was upset by all this.”

*Pip-pip-pip...?*

“And he seized some of our land.”

*PIP-PIP-PIP!?”

“But don’t worry, it’s no big deal,” the young baron tried to calm his father down. “All he did was seize some lousy lands full of waste rock. Those hills by the border. No more than four percent of our territory, that’s all. Just a garbage dump! Who needs it?”

*P-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-…*

“Father!” the youth tried to shake his father’s unconscious body and screamed “Doctor!!!! Doctor! We need a doctor! Now!”

Unfortunately, Grishanov’s sons were not as interested in local politics and land development as they should have been. In fact, Grishanov Sr. was the only one to draw a connection between the fact that Konakov was supplying Bulatov with massive amounts of stone and then, like magic, walls, towers, and villages would appear. Of course, there were no Gifted earth mages like that in their world, but if Grishanov could recruit a Mentalist form the offworld, why couldn’t Bulatov find himself an earth mage?

And so knowing that Bulatov had gained access to an unlimited source of rock and stone useful for construction purposes, material that had been accumulating for almost a century, well, this pushed Grishanov Sr. over the edge.

Chapter 3

THEY PUT UP A GREAT WALL. This wall was going to shield them from attacks by Grishanov’s guards and mercenaries. But now we would have to monitor it, which was a problem, because we were already short of personnel. Although fewer portals were opening up out there, we still had plenty appearing on my lands.

And over the past couple of days we’d had groups of saboteurs seeking to overcome the wall. They engaged in full-scale attacks using tanks and other machinery to destroy our fortifications. But just as I expected, our wall was indifferent to their efforts. Not only was it solidly built and thick, it was also reinforced with rebar running through it. The mages hadn’t neglected to install rune plates, which did a lot to make the wall truly formidable. In short, the enemy’s attempts to overcome it were a big fail.

And Grishanov’s forces could do nothing much at all, really. I’d put a lot of time and effort into honing the abilities of my feathered bombers, and this is why I’d had the mages create living quarters for them right inside the wall. Thus, a squadron of pigeons could relax in there while reloading their ammo. I’d enhanced the load capacity of the bomber birds, and also reinforced their legs. This was fundamental to not only their ability to handle explosive artifacts, it also meant that they could use simple hand grenades. The strongest squad members could even deploy anti-tank missiles. Kooky’s bearded granddad could even manage an artillery shell. If I could find more pigeons like him I could retire the Vanessas.

Right now, the important thing was to ensure the enemy never found out that I had a flock of pigeons and only four men stationed at the wall. The men were there to rearm the feathered bombers and also change the water in the baths and fountains. They also routinely scrubbed the bird crap off of Ludwig’s statues. What impressed me was that he’d erected a statue that looked like me just to razz Grishanov, and the pigeons never dared to crap on it. But, after all, I was the one who ensured their wellbeing, in every sense of the word. And they knew that I could also deprive them of any ability to attract the lady pigeons.

And so each time they attacked, the enemy retreated with losses. And yet, they were clueless as to the source of the shells and grenades. It was like all around them explosions were going off and they could do nothing about it. Not drones, nor their electronic warfare stations were of any use to them. The drones just fell from the sky, or else they exploded.

Actually, I could improve the accuracy of these combat pigeons and make them even stronger, especially the ones designated to take out the drones. But that could wait.

Right now I didn’t need to focus too much on the baron. Yes, I could actually roll over him now, destroy him, drive him off these lands. But that would take a lot of time and effort. It would be folly to underestimate him. Over many, many years, the Grishanovs had accumulated a lot of money and strength, so it would take weeks, if not months to totally remove them from the equation.

And it would take almost all of my forces, which meant that my other enemies could go at me from behind, and so I wouldn’t be able to hold these lands indefinitely. But before I leave, I’ll excavate all of the stone and rock until there’s nothing left but bare rock bed. To this end, in just two days Georgy managed to have the heavy duty earth-moving equipment delivered. Already dump trucks loaded to the brim were racing back and forth delivering stone to the castle and elsewhere.

The entire process had been mapped out in advance, with roads created by the earth mages to the desired destinations, and deliveries as needed to meet our construction plans. In fact, we had trucks working around the clock in three shifts, non-stop, with drivers for each of the three shifts. I’d love to see the expression on the baron’s face, or on the face of whoever was left in charge in his absence. When I let him have these lands back, they would look like they did a hundred years ago, with not a single rock left. We even planned to dig up the lakes again to complete the picture.

Yes, this was a large-scale endeavor. Our building processes required a considerable investment of resources. I was glad that I’d never found any buyers for our iron ore. We barely had enough to meet our needs, and I must increase the tempo of our mining efforts. The plan was to improve and grow our production facilities, and even build an industrial town in the near future. I’d had the notion of doing so some time ago. It would provide people work and income. This would not only make it easier to meet their needs and it would grow my profits, as well.

In the distant future, actually, I planned on working toward becoming a scientist. I have always been drawn to new knowledge, and in my past life I invested a lot of money in the development of education in my kingdom. I’ve conducted countless experiments, invented new spells and even artifacts. Of course, I used to fashion artifacts when I was really bored and had nothing better to do. Technology is real freedom, really. This is a techno-world, after all, and one could develop new technologies for millennia. And beyond, really.

But enough about that. Time for the here and now. Like focusing on simple production facilities to employ several hundred, or even thousands of people. I was certain that the flow of refugees wouldn’t abate any time soon, and if the offworlders again captured the city, we’d be seeing plenty of new arrivals.

That being said, if the authorities in Arkhangelsk were to find out that I had plenty of money now they’d quit sending me a steady supply of workers. So I had to keep on deceiving my enemy’s intelligence to ensure they were still convinced that the Bulatov Family was on its last legs.

What was nice was that we had plenty of lumber. We used to have problems finding stone and had to look for it from our neighbors, but we still had an abundance of wood coming through the portal in our castle courtyard. In fact, to foster this process, Belmore, Willson and I used magic to work on the portal. We installed artifacts and stabilized it so that it could be opened from either side at will. This delighted and impressed the lumberjacks. They never expected me to have a dedicated Artifactor on staff.

Speaking of, I still had to build a wall for the lumberjacks. I’d promised I would, after all. Sure, it’d be easier to relocate them all here, but what good would that do me? And they, too, wanted to stay near their magical forest. It was their homeland, so they were ready to defend their village to the last. Right now they were all busy collecting stone at the site where the wall would be erected. They’d built some fortifications from wood, but stone would be better. Of course, the wood they used was impossible to burn, nor could anything bust through their wooden fortifications without magic. The point was that sooner or later the lord’s men would be showing up for another money grab, or, rather, tax payment. I’d have to help the lumberjacks fight back. Actually, that greedy lord probably had plenty of paintings in his castle.

Speaking of wood, that last delivery made me especially happy. I’d bought several tons of it, and now my people were processing it. I mainly bought smoky wood that could be ground into powder after it was thoroughly dried. When burnt, it would then generate a lot of smoke. I’d packaged it so that the pigeons would carry it, and now they were creating artillery shells packed with it. So the warhead of these shells featured not only explosives, but also a smoky surprise. We’d tested it already and both Chernomor and I were pleased with the results. Now, in addition to a big bang with plenty of shrapnel, the shell would produce a caustic smoke cloud with a radius of a couple of dozen meters. This smoke made people’s eyes water and produced serious breathing difficulties, and so the enemy would have to flee. Creating a chaotic environment to further disorient the enemy was always a good thing, and it’s not like the smoke would impact my men. I could easily perform medical manipulations to prevent the smoke from affecting them.

So all this would be done over time. First things first, though, and that was taking out all of this stone, which is why I’d had all these roads built and purchased all this earth-moving equipment. Even though Chernomor expressed his displeasure that I spent so much on backhoes and dump trucks, he should understand that fighting from behind fortifications was the way to go. For example, that wave mage tower I’d worked hard to acquire. I remember back when all we could do when planes attacked us was take shelter from the explosions. There were wounded, but thanks to the strength of the walls, it was possible to avoid deaths. And so with this tower all we had to do was use wave magic to shut down approaching planes. And then, we’d seize the planes for our own use.

As we proceeded with the excavation of Grishanovs’s lands, the auctioneers were scheduled to show up. And they’d set off in full force with six aircraft. But they were in such a rush to get here that they flew straight into an anomaly which almost forced their fleet to the ground. And while they managed to avoid tragedy, they still had to make an emergency landing midway to the castle. They were stuck there waiting for the anomaly to die down.

As they explained all this on the phone I did my best to express my concern. I told them how hard I’d worked to acquire these treasures from the offworld, and how much I needed to sell them. But in fact, I didn’t mind the delay at all. I had so much on my agenda that punting the sale of all this junk down the road was just fine by me. After all, I had plenty of money, as I had several million in the account from the last sale.

And Timothy was taking a close look at what we had to sell. For example, I’d purchased a lot of paintings at that street market not long ago, thinking that they were all painted quite recently. But it turned out that several of them were from an antique dealer. And in the frame of one of the paintings depicting a horse with a pink mane, Timothy stumbled across hidden gold and jewelry!

So now our staff was carefully inspecting every single item, especially anything from the lord’s castle. We found out that quite often there were hidden treasures stashed away in the triplet lord’s former possessions. This did not include any artifacts, of course, as I would have detected that kind of thing right away.

Now, the auctioneers expected to show up in the evening. I warned them that I might not be available to meet them. However, at this point I didn’t have to be. By now, my students could cope with heart attacks; they’d recently read my book on the cardiovascular system. It would be good for them to help out the auctioneers once they showed up at my gallery.

“So why don’t we sell the paintings with the hiding places right away?” asked Victoria, looking up from her book. As usual, we sat in the drawing room by the fireplace, enjoying each other’s company. This was our way. We would sit around reading, sometimes sipping wine. Often we didn’t talk at all, although sometimes we’d fall into a conversation, like right now.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You yourself said that at an auction they value an interesting story,” Vika sipped her coffee and looked at me. “Well? You still don’t understand?”

“To be honest, no,” I spread my hands.

“You can leave the gold in the painting, but tip the auctioneers off about it,” the girl said. “Then, they’d set a price that reflected the actual value of both the gold and the painting, and they would describe the setup in the catalog.”

She had a point. I didn’t need offworld money as much as I needed the money from this world. I had pigeons to get me offworld gold if I needed any. Yes, Kooky could also get rubles, but that would be problematic. In fact, nobody here kept a lot of cash around; all of the aristocrats used banks. And I didn’t want to rob banks, which serviced regular people, not just aristocrats.

*Bz-z-z…*

The phone rang and I motioned to Vika to indicate that I was picking up the call. It happened to be one of my three allies trying to reach me. I didn’t remember their names, but just then the baron’s Family name appeared on the screen – Serov.

“Mikhail, hello!” said the baron right away. His voice was calm, so I didn’t think this was an emergency. “Have you heard the latest news from Severodvinsk?”

“You mean about how the Imperial army recaptured most of the lands?” Right. I’d seen a news report in which the Imperials were bragging about how they’d taken back several dozen square kilometers. They even put up maps. “They did a good job at getting a good chunk of land back, I agree.”

“Yes, true,” Serov responded. “If only it wasn’t mostly fields and abandoned villages,” he chuckled, “but now they’re up against some serious defensive lines and further advancement is going to be a lot more difficult.”

“Right, so can you get to the point?” Really, he had to be calling for a reason.

“Would you be willing to join us in recapturing some land from the offworlders?” Ah, this was more like it. He should have suggested this right away. “Our plan is to go northwest of the city and drive the enemy out of several villages there.”

To be honest, I was less than thrilled. I had no desire at all to help out. Not a drop of desire. I felt like sitting around here talking to Vika and selling trophies on display in my storehouse exhibition space to the auctioneers for a tidy sum. I could drink tea or wine, sit by the fireplace, read interesting books. I recently discovered programming and I have to say that even my magic wasn’t that logical. All good, of course, but it would take a lot to acquire a base knowledge of it, and then develop my abilities with lots of practice.

“Sure, let’s punish the offworlders. I’m with you,” I said. What choice did I have?

Although I had no desire to participate in this, I could use this opportunity to get to know the allies better. And this would also enhance my reputation, which was also important.

“But I’d like to hear details about the plans,” I went on. Truly, it made sense to know how logical my allies were when it came to taking action. If Serov says that he and his comrades plan to attack the city from the northwest and liberate it completely, I might as well just hang up.

“Our plan is to recapture a little more than five square kilometers of land northwest of the city and then hand it over to the Empire. We want to gain a foothold there and hold positions throughout the day.”

Well, that sounded reasonable. In fact, that was a tried and true strategy. Aristocrats and their trained guards often acted as special forces. They often had powerful Gifts, and could handle weaponry well, plus they usually equipped their guards with great weapons and artifacts. And so aristocrats could often deal a blow to the enemy, giving a leg up to the army. And the Imperial Forces had plenty of personnel and heavy weapons. They could more easily occupy already recaptured lines and organize a defense. In short, I liked the plan and gave my final consent to participate in this operation.

“By the way, when are we starting?” I asked, just before I was about to hang up. I figured it was worth it to find that much out.

“In around three hours. This evening. A good time to strike. We’ve already dispatched a few infantry units to clear a landing site.”

“So much for advance notice! Thanks,” I chuckled. “You could’ve just called me, say, fifteen minutes before the operation began. I guess you figured I could get it all together pronto-fasto.”

“I hear you,” sighed Serov, “but we know that you don’t have a lot of strength, and that you’re dealing with other issues. So you can just bring a small detachment, or simply serve as a Healer. That might be even better. In any case, we can provide transport if necessary.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. No need for transport,” I refused their cheap helicopters. It would be more convenient and faster to fly there by plane.

“Yes, and one more thing,” Serov hesitated. “This is a personal request from Osipov. Could you bring his dad or his grandfather along?”

“I’ll bring both of them!” I laughed. I couldn’t bring the mages along, after all, and the two old Osipovs would never forgive me if I left them out of this.

Really, it would be good for me to not only see my allies in action, but also show them what I had to offer. And there was a reason for their hesitancy. Everyone around me thought that I was completely mired in war with my neighbors, and that I had to spend all my energy solely on defending my own lands. Also, they thought that the offworld thunderstorm had hit me hard. I wasn’t about to tell anybody that my only losses were a couple of burnt-out abandoned villages and a dozen geese, was I?

The offworlders also tried to torch several dozen young apple trees, but the Druids were on guard and so they fed those offworlders to the wolves. They were happy to sustain the ecosystem out here.

It didn’t take me long to get ready for this mission. I decided to take with me only those who would not be able to reveal any of our secrets. Our detachment of old codgers was perfect, and I also brought along another twenty former Imperial warriors. And, of course, I brought the two elder Osipovs and Chernomor. I left Vika behind. She’d grown a lot in her necromancy skills, and learned a great deal about death magic, but outsiders may wonder how she’d acquired so much power at her rank.

“What, are we moving out again?” Chernomor sighed as soon as I told him about our plans.

“Well, if you don’t want to go up against the offworlders...”

“Oh, well, that’s a different story,” he said, immediately perking up. “I’m always ready!” and then he added “but you should know that almost all of our men are busy.”

“Yes, I’ve already chosen who we’ll fly with,” I patted him on the shoulder, and he looked at me with distrust. That’s right. I never told him about my ability to feel heartbeats. I always knew who was inside the castle at any given moment. “By the way, why are our Combat Suits not being used? Let’s take them too!”

“They’re on alert in case of emergencies!” Chernomor sputtered, but then he thought about it. “Actually yes, let’s give them some practice. They’ve been sitting around doing nothing for weeks now.”

That was what I’d been thinking. I also decided to take some equipment with us, too, for defense purposes. I had weaponry with protective runes applied to the surface so that it would function well even in the offworld. Weapons without such runes also worked in the offworld, too. And even in during the thunderstorm, not everything failed. Sometimes equipment would work only intermittently, but just the same, it would still function. But I’d had no such interruptions, and even if the enemy targeted me, it would be futile. My tanks and armored vehicles were also equipped with anti-magic protection. If not for this kind of thing, what did I need an Artifactor for?

“By the way, I have something for you to do,” I said to Vika, who looked upset. She wanted to come along on such an important mission, although I didn’t think this was a big deal, not at all. We’d be strolling around the outskirts of Severodvinsk burning down a couple of offworld camps and then come back home.

“What...?”

“We’ve been invited to a ball this evening. And we really do need to make a showing...” I sighed. This invitation was from an aristocrat from a neighboring city. He was a rarity in that he wasn’t hostile to me. An influential aristocrat not waging war against us, so we should attend his ball. Plus, we often bought medical equipment from his stores, and perhaps we could negotiate wholesale deliveries at reasonable prices. “I simply cannot attend myself. I’ll be at war. I think that he’ll understand.”

“And the auctioneers??” she reminded me, “Maybe I should meet them?”

“Georgy will deal with them,” I said. We’d already sorted out all the details over the phone, so I didn’t have to be there myself. All they needed was to load everything onto the planes and they’d sell it all via their platform.

“Eh…” the countess sighed. “To tell you the truth I’m disappointed you won’t be going to the ball with me.”

“Sorry,” I smiled. “In any case, I won’t let you go alone. You’ll have your mentor with you, and under the law he has every right to accompany you.”

“But...”

“Don’t worry,” I said, handing her a certified copy of a document, “this document confirms that Belmore is your mentor. If anything happens, he has the right to intervene.” And smoothing her hair, I added, “So worry not. If anyone tries to misbehave with you, you and Belmore will be the only ones left alive. I’ve already discussed this with him.”

“Hah!” she chuckled. “I don’t understand how you manage to maintain a sense of humor in times like these.”

“Well, here you go, then,” I said handing the document to Victoria, and then, turning, I headed for the hangar. The fighters, including our Combat Suits, were all on board, along with all of our equipment, and they were all waiting for me.

* * *

Meanwhile

Belmore’s suite

“Aha…” the Necromancer finished reading the last lines of the message, after which the scroll burst into green flame and turned to dust. “Well, okay!”

The mage leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. What he wanted was to keep on working at creating a living necrotic creature with intelligence, but now he had no time for that.

“And so if anything happens, kill everyone,” he muttered the last lines from Mikhail’s message to him. “Anything...what would ‘anything’ be?” Belmore clearly didn’t like such imprecise wording. But he could do nothing about it.

It was a magical order, and he had to carry it out. And so he quickly began getting ready for the upcoming ball. But what if it seemed to him that something was off, or that someone was acting inappropriately with Vika? Then he’d have to kill everyone, because that was what the direct instructions he’d received from Mikhail required him to do, and to not do so would violate their contract.

“Belmore!” Victoria walked in. “Can you imagine? We’re going to the ball together!”

“Yes, my student,” sighed Belmore. “Well, I’m getting ready for it.”

“And Mikhail said that you’re to kill everyone if someone looks at me the wrong way. Crazy, eh?” laughed Vika.

“Yes, funny stuff...” sighed the Necromancer, noting something else in his mental journal. If they looked at her the wrong way he was to kill them. “Okay, go get dressed then. I’m doing the same.”

“Are you outfitting yourself for this?”

“Yeah…” Belmore nodded, looking at his most powerful artifacts and blanks of spells from the School of Death. “I’m doing just that. I’ll arm myself with my best outfitting,” he said as his gaze fell on the stone of concentrated death, and he smiled. “They’ll all die of envy there...”

* * *

Two hours later

Somewhere in the outskirts of Severodvinsk

“A dying Family...really?” Osipov stood next to his comrades and looked at the sky.

“That’s what they’re saying. They have no money, they have problems with the guards, and no one sells them anything,” the baron shrugged.

“So did you verify this intelligence?” asked the viscount. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but right now I have trouble believing it.”

“Yes, I did check! Of course!” exclaimed Serov. “But I, too, have trouble believing it.”

The three of them stood there, still looking at the sky. What they were staring at was a plane that, despite offworld electronic interference was easily flying to their meetup. They themselves had to travel overland. This was because the interference didn’t impact their older trucks and tanks.

“Ah, but I did mention that he has a plane…” the baron said thoughtfully

“Really?! Did you know that there are different types of planes? I, for example, imagined an ordinary airplane,” said the viscount. “But that plane is worth more than my entire estate!”

“And mine, perhaps,” Osipov agreed. “It would seem that his financial problems have been exaggerated.”

And then the plane landed, and men started offloading the equipment. It was all the latest technology. Tanks, armored vehicles, everything was in excellent condition, and most importantly, reliable. This could not be said about their military hardware.

“Ah, here you are then!” smiled Mikhail after alighting from the plane. “So then, what’s the plan?”

“Well, now I don’t even know...” Osipov muttered, looking at Mikhail’s forces. He expected to see at most ten fighters with simple weapons. Not fifty seasoned warriors in excellent outfitting armed with powerful guns. “We were planning on taking Silkovka, and then advancing eastward a bit. And if possible, capture either Verbovka or Spiridonovichi,” he unfurled a map and indicated the territory he was talking about.

“No,” Bulatov shook his head. “Here and here,” he pointed his finger at the map, “there could be ambushes. So let’s skirt around these areas and attack from behind. And these villages are of no value; we need to move further east.”

And he proceeded to modify their plans. The allies had no choice but to agree. Some of them were still in shock from just the sight of the plane. And they were coming to grips with this turn of events. Bulatov, they’d thought, was the head of a near-dead Family, and was supposedly going to be here in more of an observer’s role, providing healing services, perhaps, yet here he was practically taking over.

“So how is it that your technology still works?” someone asked. In fact, they’d all been wondering about this while Bulatov was poring over the map and changing the plans. It was only a matter of time before someone asked it out loud.

“Well, it’s a Russian-made plane,” shrugged Mikhail. “That’s why it works. It’s in its home environment.”

“But our stuff is Russian-made, too!” Osipov exclaimed.

“Oh, well, you must’ve plundered it from the wrong place,” said Mikhail, throwing up his hands. “Oh! I meant to tell you that this hardware and weaponry are trophies.”

Yes, they all noticed how high-tech his equipment was. But they didn’t spot the protective artifacts installed on the underbelly of the plane. They also didn’t take notice of the runes etched into the body of the metal beast. The allies did see that the various models of equipment Mikhail had were manufactured by different Families. None of his stuff matched.

“Oh, okay then,” the viscount muttered, gaping at Mikhail as he ordered his men to line up in a column.

“Yes,” Osipov nodded. “My father told me how Bulatov procures his equipment. Have you ever seen him at a military exhibition or equipment store? I haven’t. But he ends up with more great gear than any of us.”

* * *

Right away I disliked their plans. I mean, it might seem logical to go straight to the nearest village, capture it, and score some reputation points with the Empire. At first glance, this approach looked like the easiest way to regain control of at least some land without any major losses.

In fact, if not for some pigeon reconnaissance I was privy to, I’d have been all for it. I had to act covertly so that my allies wouldn’t suspect anything. To this end I’d even brought along some discreet headphones and transmitters so Innokenty could pass on what our pigeon reconnaissance squad had to tell me. This was how I knew about the many ambushes that were on the original route, and also the safest alternatives. I couldn’t explain to my allies where I got this information, so I had to force them to simply trust me. Fortunately, they themselves were not entirely sure of their plans, so they were willing to follow my lead.

So soon, after we consolidated our forces and agreed on roles, we headed out. For some time we simply made our way through the forest, then emerged onto a plain dotted with large boulders.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t on our side. A fine, nasty rain drizzled, a squall blew in from the sea, and almost no sunlight penetrated through the thick gray clouds. On the other hand, this had its advantages. We were almost impossible to spot in these conditions, while the pigeons weren’t have any problem at all locating enemy hideouts. And they knew right where their camps were, and troops.

“We’re not lost, are we?” asked Serov. My allies were steadfast. It took them two hours of wandering through the woods before they dared ask. And at first glance it might seem like we were simply walking in an unknown direction. Sometimes we even made sudden detours or backtracked.

“It’s all okay,” I smiled and nodded towards a large clearing. “We had to make a small detour, but see...?”

“What? Is that an offworld camp?” asked Osipov, and immediately got two slaps on the back of his head. “What’s that for?”

“For stupid questions,” his father replied.

“And for... Well, okay,” his grandfather waved his hand. “That’s for the future.”

“We’re at their back, and not a single sentry raised the alarm,” I noted with a shrug. “So we can launch the attack.”

“Can I unleash Margarita?” asked one of the old codgers.

“Yes, Margarita can come out and play,” I smiled and in a flash the forest was filled with the roar of gunshots.

I didn’t even take part in the fight. I simply stood there and watched my men, and, more importantly, I noted how my allies’ forces were performing.

I was glad to see that they knew how to fight. They might not have the means to purchase the best equipment and weapons, and now and then they were on the cautious side, but this was understandable. They didn’t have any Healers on staff, so even a moderate injury could put a fighter out of commission for a long time.

But now I was with them, so gradually the allied guardsmen were bolder and would rush into battle as fast as my men. And even though I didn’t display any miraculous feats of healing, staying within the limits of what was accepted practice, no one died that day. From among our forces, that is. The enemy got hit hard, and only a few were able to retreat.

The offworlders never expected such a daring attack. They were confident that they were on their captured lands. It was an unpleasant surprise when we fell upon them from the direction of Severodvinsk.

In fact, I would call it a massacre. First, tanks hit the enemy tents, and then machine guns of various calibers covered the offworlders fleeing in panic. They responded with several volleys of magic, but it all shattered against the artifact shields installed on the equipment.

“Let’s save the questions for later, okay?” I responded to the silent query of my allies. I had to ensure that they waited until the right time for talk. I knew they’d have a lot of questions.

“Okay…” the surprised count mumbled. “So now what? Should we dig in here? This is a great victory, isn’t it? The Empire can be proud of us! Just think, we got by without losses and drove out a large detachment of offworlders!”

“Yes! I never thought we’d be so lucky,” the baron said.

“What do you mean by ‘lucky’? And what do you mean by ‘dig in here’?” I asked. “Let’s move on! These guys were small fry. We can do better!”

“But do we have to?” asked the viscount, and I just shook my head and smiled. “Now’s the time to call the Imperials and ask for reinforcements,” he went on.

“You called me yourself,” I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not used to counting such trifles as major wins. Let’s head towards Severodvinsk and call the Imperials there,” I said, looking at my watch. It was around midnight then, and we had plenty of time. Since I had to leave the castle to do this thing, I might as well do it right. We can call them closer to the morning.”

* * *

Early morning

Regional headquarters

“Commander!” Although it was noisy at headquarters the messenger was able to shout over the din. “You have a call!”

“Who on earth dares to bother me now!” the commander barked and picked up the phone. It was big, heavy and inconvenient, but despite the interference the electronics didn’t fail. It was a special military field telephone.

“Count Bulatov. He says he captured some village,” the messenger shrugged.

“These aristocrats are trying to build their reputations up,” the commander shook his head, but answered the call. “I’m listening!”

“According to regulation number eighty-one, point four, I must transfer lands to your management,” Bulatov immediately got down to business, which surprised the commander. Usually aristocrats started bragging, or, on the contrary, they’d ask to be evacuated, some wanted reinforcements.

“Understood!” the commander growled “Transmit the coordinates and wait. Reconnaissance will be carried out, after which the third and sixth corps will move out to help you...” he checked the map and nodded.

“That’s not enough!” Bulatov again surprised him, but this time it was due to his impudence. “Here are the coordinates, and then you can decide how many corps to send.”

“Count Bulatov, we’re not in the mood for jokes,” the general frowned, having received a message on his tablet. “Zeleniy is located near the city, and there...”

“I’m not joking either,” a long yawn was heard on the other end of the line. “Okay, I’ll wait for you. But hurry! I’m almost out of tea!” and short beeps sounded then. The commander just stood there holding the massive receiver to his ear.

“Twenty-seven villages? In one night?” he rubbed his eyes and looked at the map again.

The commander was very surprised, because he was sure that this was impossible. But he couldn’t ignore the call, because soon reconnaissance was sent there, and they confirmed the count’s words.

Colonel Muravetsky was even more surprised. He personally arrived at the last captured village and saw that only two hundred people had taken up defensive positions there. Not only did they hold back the onslaught of the surprised enemy, but they also locked four hundred captured offworlders in a barn! Moreover, the poor fellows themselves were also bewildered and didn’t understand how they ended up tied up and locked in a dark, cavernous space.

“Where should I sign?” Count Bulatov approached the colonel. “We’re done here and the rest is up to you. I would help, but you understand, I have stone that needs to be mined.”

“Stone?” the warrior was confused

“Right!” nodded the count as he took the papers from him and signed them where needed. “And then there’s the geese...”

“What?” Muravetsky was confused, but then he recovered. “Sorry for asking, but tell me something. Were you able to advance so far into enemy territory with just these forces? Why is your equipment in working order? What do you plan to do with the prisoners?”

“Yes,” Bulatov nodded. “Hang in there,” he smiled and, turning around, walked down the road out of the village. And just then a massive plane appeared from behind the mountains. It then hovered in front of Bulatov, and while still in the air, a hatch in its underbelly opened and a ramp extended downward onto the ground and in just a few seconds a column of equipment drove in, and then the count’s forces ran inside.

“You can have the prisoners. I don’t need them!” Bulatov waved his hand as he, too, boarded the plane and then the turbines roared and the plane shot up into the air.

“That’s aristocrats for you...” Muravetsky scratched the back of his head, “they fly here on planes, while we practically use pigeon post!”

“Cooo!” a bird flying above him was indignant, “Coooo!”

“Yeah, we don’t even have telephones that work out here,” the colonel sighed heavily. Little did he know how much Bulatov relied on so-called “pigeon post.”

Chapter 4

ALTHOUGH I’D BEEN LOATH to join my allies’ venture, in the end it turned out to be both entertaining and truly interesting. I especially enjoyed seeing the expressions on my allies’ faces. It was like they thought they were heading for certain death as we penetrated deeper and deeper into territory held by our offworld enemies, but just the same they wanted to see what would happen next. Thus, we reached a village not far from Severodvinsk.

Liberating our homeland piece by piece—this is what mattered. But there’s a downside to the process of doing so. The costs significantly exceed the profits. When doing these surprise attacks to gain land back there’s no time to grab many trophies.

But I’m not into thinking only about my own skin or acting solely to benefit myself. Although it might look like all I wanted was more and more trophies and geese, this is not at all the case. I’m not alien to caring about the wellbeing of others, and my concern for the Empire is genuine. That being said, constant self-sacrifice is also not my kind of thing. Really, everything requires a case by case approach.

Let’s say, for example, that I’d flown in to liberate the estate of some rich aristocrat from an offworld takeover. I could inflict much more damage, and, of course, acquire a lot more trophies. In the process, both the Empire and I would have benefited. Or I could focus on destroying supply routes. Thus, the offworld forces would eventually no longer have a way to replenish their provisions, weapons, artifacts or bring in reinforcements. And yes, it was also worthwhile to liberate territory. In any event, I wasn’t likely to engage in rash endeavors just like everybody else.

In the end, though, this campaign actually did provide me with some benefits. There was a reason that I wanted to make it to this particular village and then call for reinforcements from there. This was a great place to set up a mobile command headquarters and conduct a comprehensive reconnaissance of the area.

As we waited for the Imperial Forces to show up, Innokenty sat in a steel booth with tiny windows carefully recording the incoming reports from our feathered scouts. And although the viscount wasn’t happy that we penetrated almost to the center of the territory held by the offworlders, he couldn’t refuse. Or, rather, he could, but who would listen to him? And our pigeons were diligent about surveying these lands and their surroundings and filming what they saw. Of course, due to the interference from offworlders, their little cameras would fail and we constantly had to swap them out, but we were prepared for this.

And now we were flying back to the castle with a sense of accomplishment, and my guardsmen at our command center there were updating the maps based on all of the new intelligence. We now knew what was going on and where, the location of the main enemy bases, not to mention their storage facilities, and so on. Tomorrow, I wanted to embark on another foray where I could make some real money whilst disrupting the logistics of the offworld forces. Already we were making it a little harder for them to hang on in our world, but what I wanted was to make their existence ever the more difficult.

But yes, that was for tomorrow. Now I had to attend to other matters. I’d wanted Georgy to deal with the auctioneers, but they’d refused, and insisted on my being there. And so once I got back home, I quickly showered and freshened up, and then proceeded to our gallery where an entire delegation of appraisers was awaiting me.

They included two members of the top management, and a big team of various appraisers.

“You are a man of your word, Count Bulatov,” said one of them, extending his hand. He looked to be around forty years old and was a tall, strong man attired in a business suit. The other top manager was also dressed in a suit, but he was plump, short, and had a bald spot on his head.

“How could you doubt it?” I smiled, returning the handshake.

“Candidly, I did have some doubts about coming here,” he said with an apologetic gesture, “I had a hard time believing that you could procure so many new treasures so quickly. We’ve never seen anything like it. Truly, we never thought it was possible.”

“Well, what can I say?” I shrugged “I’m a lucky guy, I guess.”

“Yes, and that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed in response. “So then, shall we get down to business or first enjoy a welcoming ceremony, as is warranted by the occasion?”

“Please, there’s no need for any formalities. You are not wanting in anything, and can feast on succulent meat or have a spot of fine tea when you return home,” I said, heading for the entrance into the gallery. “Right now, time is of the essence. I believe we’d both be best served by getting down to business,” I said, opening the door and gesturing to the auctioneers to enter.

Right away they started almost pushing each other to get inside and set to work examining offworld treasures full of history. I must say that what I had to offer in my gallery was impressive. Lots like this were rare, although, comparatively speaking, what they were now looking at were the cheaper items.

“You’re our kind of guy,” the short plump guy said quietly.

“Definitely,” nodded his tall colleague.

I paid no attention to the “oohs” and “aahs” of the appraisers, and just launched into information about this or that exhibit. Actually, I didn’t even need to do this, as next to each item we’d posted a short piece about what was on display there. It also contained pertinent data, such as how much was in stock, and even what we estimated the value to be when auctioned off. Yes, Georgy and Timothy had done due diligence by studying the Imperial Auction website and this is how they’d come up with the prices. Of course, they were simply approximating this. The end results could significantly differ.

“I can’t really assess this item,” I pointed to a small picture of a monstrous coniferous tree grabbing deciduous saplings with its roots and shoving them into its hollow, that is, its mouth. “From what we could tell, it was painted relatively recently.”

“That’s right,” an appraiser carefully examined the painting. “I cannot understand it, but the paint isn’t even dry yet! It must have been painted less than a month ago!”

“And here, by the way, is a scabbard,” I hastened to direct his attention to another exhibit. Who knew that Cyrus had been forcing artists to swiftly produce paintings for me? Okay, I guess I’d told him to procure as many paintings as he could in the shortest possible time.

“Scabbards?” asked the big guy, drawing closer to take a look. In fact there were dozens of them hanging on the wall. All sported gold trim and were made of quality leather covered with both fine designs and precious stones. “But where are the swords?”

“Well, as you can see there aren’t any swords,” I shrugged. Indeed, that was the case. Either there weren’t any, or in the rush they couldn’t be found. Or it could be that, in the heat of battle, some of the guys ran off with the swords. Also, some of them could have broken in battle. “And by the way, these scabbards, too, speak of history. Although it’s a rather foggy and confusing past.”

“I agree...” the chubby man nodded thoughtfully. “Let them wonder what happened to the swords. I, for example, am doing just that.”

“For history lovers, there are several sculptures,” I pointed to the next display. “At first glance, this is nothing remarkable. Just small figurines, and it must be said, not made by the most skilled craftsman.”

“Is this an elephant?”

“No, it’s a man in a pensive pose,” I shook my head, looking at one of the statues. “Or yes, perhaps it’s an elephant, depending on what angle you’re looking at it from. But that’s not the most important thing. If you scan it, you’ll discover gold coins and jewels hidden inside!”

“That’s quite savvy of you for not breaking them to get the hidden treasures! Although how did you know that there was gold inside?” asked the tall appraiser.

Ah, yes, but how? First they’d been busted open, and we removed all of the valuables before coming to our senses, after which I had the mages put the statues back together again. I specifically had Giovanni do it, because if I’d tapped Ludwig for this job he’d have made the pieces too beautiful.

“Well, we have...er, the know-how and instruments to detect that kind of thing.” Actually, I was screaming at Giovanni to get the statues glued back together half an hour before the appraisers arrived. “And we’ll be using these instruments non-stop for at least a week! Good thing that instruments don’t need sleep.”

“Well, f*ck me!” I heard the sounds of despair in the distance. I was kidding. I’ll give him a day off, or else a night of sleep. That being said, eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing.

“This is where we’ve displayed the spears,” I went into the next room, leaving the appraisers behind. They simply could not keep up with me, because they had to photograph and note each item so that their specialists at their laboratory could come up with a preliminary assessment. Actually, this was more of a formality because they all knew by now that I wasn’t a con man trying to deceive them by passing off fake offworld stuff. “Look at this long shelf full of spears.”

There were thirty of them. Standard models, reinforced, beautiful, crooked, homemade, with traces of blood and dirt, broken, repaired...

“Don’t be so surprised!” I exclaimed, stopping by the shelf and catching their astonished glances. “This is all my quartermaster’s doing! He approaches his work very responsibly.”

“No, we’re just surprised that someone would use our sorting methods,” the chubby man raised his hands. “It’s not what we’re used to! Usually they just lump their best items into one big pile and we have to sort it all out ourselves.”

We walked around the gallery for a while, and while the appraisers were doing their painstaking work, the managers simply looked at the exhibits on display. Paintings, carpets, various statues…

“Door handles?” asked someone, indicating a shelf. “But from where?”

“Oh, I have the doors too,” I waved it off. “Are you interested? I can show you.”

“Looks like you stumbled on a lot of treasures. Was it some kind of abandoned castle? Or the mansion of an offworld VIP?”

“Ha! I guess it doesn’t matter. What I can say is that we stripped the place bare,” I smiled. The important thing is that we’ve got a great collaboration going, and soon both of us will profit big from it.”

“You can be sure of that,” the chubby man smiled. “But we’ll need to take at least a day to load and transport all of this. Our specialists will take care of it all, but Arkady and I,” he nodded at his tall colleague, “have to leave as soon as possible.”

“So no time even for some tea?” I smiled.

“Count Bulatov, as you yourself pointed out, in our business the most important resource is time,” sighed Arkady.

“So true,” I said, “there are never enough hours in the day ,” I sighed in response, shaking the chubby man’s hand, and then turning to Arkady. And this time the handshake dragged on. I quit smiling and stared so intently at Arkady that he actually started feeling uncomfortable. “Just the same, it would be too bad, actually, if you couldn’t stay for just a bit. I cannot help but want to treat you all in light of our fine collaboration. The last thing I want, really, in light of our fine collaboration, is to have you think badly of me as a host.”

Having finished diagnosing Arkady, I quit babbling and finally let go of his hand and again smiled.

“Are you a busy man, then? Might you be able to spare a couple of hours in the next few days?”

“Impossible,” he shook his head. “My time is scheduled down to the minute. I can hardly find an hour to sleep,” he said, throwing his hands up.

“But just the same, try. And although you’re busy, I recommend you find the time to see a Healer in the capital. I hope you can. Do it fast, meaning within four days,” I said with a kind smile. “And it was nice meeting you,” I said, starting to turn away.

“No, wait,” Arkady stopped me. “What is this about? Tell me.”

“Well, you see an aneurysm is a tricky thing. And it can burst in a flash,” I said, waving my hand. “But I understand what it is to be a busy man. I haven’t had a spare minute myself these past few days.”

“What, excuse me? Did I understand you correctly?” Arkady was frozen in place now, and just stood there blinking, trying to understand what he’d just heard.

“Thank you for the advice, Mikhail. I will personally make sure that he does as you said,” the chubby man nodded to me. He was, it seemed, the one with the smarts.

‘What advice? Wait! I’m lost here!” exclaimed Arkady.

“Go see a Healer. He’ll explain it all to you,” I shrugged. I didn’t see any reason to go into detail now.

“But you’re a Healer, right?”

“Yes, but you don’t have much time, you said it yourself,” I sighed.

“How much time are we talking about? What’s wrong with me? Can you cure me?” Arkady clearly forgot how packed his schedule was and how urgently he needed to get to the capital. “And what, is an aneurysm that serious? What are the consequences?”

“Well, it’s not like a disease,” I said, patting him on the shoulder to calm him down. “Your pathology causes almost instant death.”

“Please, do something about it! I don’t care how long it takes! I’m ready to pay ten times the standard fee if you heal me!”

Uh-huh, that’s how Healers made the big bucks. But I wasn’t at all out to milk this guy through fear mongering.

“Can I stay with you for the course of treatment?”

“At a minimum that would take a couple of days. It would require tests, diagnostics, and the process of selecting the best therapy...”

“Listen, Arkady, we have our in-house clinics with Healers on staff,” said his chubby colleague, putting a hand on Arkady’s shoulder. “And we need you to sign several contracts. Let’s fly back, get the work done, and then you can go in for treatment.”

“I agree. Get treated in the capital,” I said. “How else will you know I’m telling the truth until you start feeling something amiss?”

In the end, Arkady believed me, but just the same, looking grim, he prepared to leave. I’d scared him enough to go online and read about his malady, which alarmed him even more. His colleague could barely get him onto their plane. But of course he didn’t have any symptoms yet. It wasn’t that kind of thing.

Once the auctioneers were gone, it was time I got some rest. Really, I’d had to expend a lot of energy over the past few days, and hadn’t slept much. It was time that I at least carried out a full scan of my magical channels and membranes; I felt like I’d incurred several burns on them from overextending myself. Of course, I’d have to wait to fully catch up on my sleep, though. First, I decided to drop in on Willson; it had been awhile since I’d done so.

He’d set up a new office for himself at the very top of his tower to avoid disruptions. This attic had been slightly remodeled by the earth mages, who created a secret entrance up there for Willie covered in protective and camouflage runes. All the while they were laughing at the artifact maker’s naivety. Did he really think he could hide from me? I guess he was a slow learner.

First, I walked around the lower floors checking out the number of artifacts in storage there. And I had to admit that now that he had Biba and Boba working under him, well, his production numbers were significantly higher. True, I’d sometimes hear heart-rending screams coming from their workshop, and both Biba and Boba looked like their souls had been sucked out of them and that they themselves were on their last legs. But what mattered was the results of their production process. It was ongoing, despite how much the two novice artifact makers were suffering. However they were acquiring a lot of knowledge, experience, and most importantly, they were growing ever stronger.

“So then, how’s it going?” I said, popping up behind Willie, who jumped up in surprise as something subsequently exploded.

“What do you think? How is it that you always find me?” he exclaimed. His face was covered in black soot as he rushed to open a window to air out the smoke. “It’s going fine,” he muttered resentfully as he sat down again and set about tweaking his latest creation. “Now I have to again start over, thanks you!” And he looked at me with undisguised resentment.

“If you want to be that way I’ll have to give your apprentices a couple of days off.”

“They’re mine!” Willie exclaimed, “And no, don’t. Who then is going to brew my tea and heat the water in the bath?”

Should I tell him we could run the hot water lines to his tower? Although hot water wasn’t in the original request when Willie was designing his tower. Oh well, he’s not a kid; he should know this already.

“By the way, how’s your sister? She’s still living here, eh?” Actually I’d just remembered she was my guest. Although I’d promised to build her a tower in exchange for her signing a service contract, but I had yet to get around to it. The mages had built two out of eight stories, and that’s where the construction had stalled.

“Oh…” Willson sighed. “The situation with Mirabelle is difficult...Very difficult. It’s a mess.”

“What happened?” I asked. Last time I saw her everything was fine.

“You’d better see for yourself,” Willie looked worried. He got up again and we both headed for Mira’s tower.

“So what’s wrong?” I asked as we walked in and went to her chambers. It wasn’t hard to find her, she was sitting on the couch in front of a huge screen with some kind of white mask applied to her face, cucumbers over her eyes, and curlers in her hair. She had this spa-type music playing in her headphones, so didn’t hear us. “What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? You have to ask?” Willie was astonished. “She never leaves this tower!”

“Got it,” I chuckled. “Well, let’s let her be for now. She seems to be under a lot of stress.”

“What kind of stress could she be under? She is a death mage, the strongest of our kind!”

“This is the stress of a woman who’s obsessed with self-care and has learned about the benefits of cosmetics,” I said, quietly closing the door and then getting out of there. Willie went back to work producing more and more protective artifacts. As for me, time for some shut-eye.

I idly wondered how Vika was doing? That ball she was attending should provide us with some essential connections, and perhaps a pathway to selling our products, or even the opportunity to buy much-needed goods directly from manufacturers. Knowing Vika, she wasn’t going to waste her time there, so I needn’t worry about that. And Belmore was with her to ensure her safety.

* * *

The Belousov Estate

Ball in honor of the birthday of one of the Belousov Family’s daughters

Victoria was truly thrilled to be attending this ball. What was especially nice was that now, more of the other aristocrats had begun approaching her than had been the case before. They would ask her how her Family was doing, and what their future plans were, or else they’d want to chat about fun, frivolous things, like the latest fashions. Someone even asked her about the jeweler who’d crafted her stunning necklace, but Vika simply smiled and said nothing. She couldn’t, after all, confess that her necklace came from the offworld. From what Kooky had relayed to her, Mikhail had actually stolen it from that offworld lord’s treasury.

No more were there looks full of pity following her. Rather, people were intrigued by her, or even a little intimidated. As for low-status aristocrats, the kind who would dare to be impudent, or even rude with her, they didn’t even look up from the floor when she was near. Rather, they’d scuttle away into the corner as fast as they could. Of course, there had to be one incident. Victoria sat at a table sipping sparkling wine and sighed as she looked at her mentor.

“Listen, you’re a wise, aged, esteemed mage. Why do you need this?” she said, breaking the silence.

“Don’t even try to dissuade me,” Belmore pursed his lips. “I’ve made up my mind. I cannot forgive the insult. The duel is to the death!” he hit the table, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

Around them was quite the crowd now, and Vika was rather taken aback. She’d stepped away briefly to sample a delectable delicacy. And when she’d turned back, she saw the cluster of onlookers. They’d gathered around the two old men who looked like they were ready to slug it out right then and there.

It turned out that Duke Darkov himself was in attendance at the ball. In his Family were some of the Empire’s most celebrated Necromancers. And he himself was hailed as the most powerful of them all.

“Think again, is it worth it?” Vika again tried to dissuade her mentor, but he was adamant.

“Enough! I will not back down! He has insulted the very essence of necromancy!” Belmore was incensed. “This cannot be forgiven! How can one say that the initial pentagram of a six-pointed star can be made three-pointed without losing magical resistance? No, he doesn’t deserve to live!”

“King of the sandbox...” sighed Victoria, and she stepped away again to get more wine and enjoy more of the luscious hors d’oeuvres. She feared nothing on Belmore’s behalf. No other Necromancer could defeat him, no way.

She smiled ironically, remembering what Mikhail had said.

“Yes, that’s right, he’ll look after me...” she shook her head. “Okay, at least they’re providing some entertainment,” Vika picked up a fresh glass of wine and was about to return to the duel when she sensed someone behind her. But before she could turn around, she heard a familiar voice.

“Ah, yes...The wrapper is shiny and bright, but the candy is rotten!” Vika knew right away to whom the mocking voice belonged. Turning, she saw before her Anastasia Rubenstein. “I’m rather surprised to see you here without an escort. But then again, why should I be?” said her ill-wisher with a nasty smile, “I doubt that there’s any truly safe place for you in the Empire.”

Vika stood and looked at the girl, trying her best to contain her emotions and not display her hatred. It was a long-standing, deep-rooted antipathy. And although her heart was hammering inside her chest, outwardly she was calm, unruffled and smiling.

“So, what? Have you nothing to say?” chuckled Anastasia. “Or don’t you remember that time I cut your hair?”

Actually, Vika couldn’t forget it. And the image suddenly surfaced in her memory. How she fought three duels in one day, winning two of them, but the third... Anastasia had persuaded her minions to join forces, realizing that she would not be able to defeat Victoria on her own. Together they’d sapped Vika of all of her reserves, and then Rubenstein had sailed to an easy victory. To mark it, she had cut off some of Vika’s hair.

If there was one person in the Empire that Vika hated above all others, it was the woman standing before her now. The thing is that Anastasia had never finished that duel, and all throughout their training she’d gone out of her way to mock Vika.

“Keep it together...don’t lose your cool...”she told herself. “Do not, no, do not cause a scene.”

A command to begin the duel was heard from the sidelines, which meant that Belmore was now busy. Meanwhile, the smile on Anastasia’s face grew even wider.

“Oh, what a surprise! Your escort is busy now! Do you know what this means?” she sneered, and splashed her glass of wine in Viika’s face. “Ready for another haircut? Or, like usual, are you too scared?”

“Ehh…” Victoria sighed. “Well, no stopping it now!” she shrugged, and gave up on restraining herself. She’d tried so hard, but Rubenstein knew how to push her buttons. And thus, the years of enmity between them burst out.

Victoria forced herself to at least try to breathe in and out to maintain some semblance of control, but Anastasia’s mocking face continued to enrage her. She turned her gaze onto her arch enemy, and doing her best to look cool and composed, she accepted the challenge.

“Duel!” Vika said harshly, and that is when the smile disappeared from Anastasia’s face. That’s because Vika’s eyes flashed with darkness, a black silhouette burst out of her body, and the flames of death covered her hands. “To the death!” her voice now was altered by the raging necrotic forces filling her, and everyone around them shuddered at the sound.

Up close they couldn’t really see it. But the aristocrats standing further off saw the black silhouette rise above Victoria’s fragile shoulders. It formed a black skull, which looked around a couple of times, then, with a bone-chilling spectral howl, attacked.

* * *

*Bz-z-z…*

For a few seconds I tried to feel for the phone under the pillow, and then a serious and difficult question arose before me. Should I smash it against the wall, or answer and then bash the face of the person who was calling me in the middle of the night?

Okay, maybe it was an emergency.

“Yes?!” I took the call without bothering to see who it was from. “The Imperial Chancellery?”

“You are accused of double murder!” said a serious voice.

“What? What’s going on?” I jumped to my feet. “I’ve been sleeping in my own bed! At peace and all alone! How could I have killed anybody?”

But yeah, I guess I had. I listened to what happened, sighed, and shook my head.

“I’ll sort everything out, wait,” I hung up, sat in bed for a couple more seconds, and then again picked up the phone . “Chernomor! Make sure the plane is ready to transport me to Belousov’s estate, and make it fast!”

I was in the air ten minutes later. Silence reigned. Even my normally boisterous guards said nothing, merely glancing sideways at me. Seeing my grim face, they dared not ask me anything.

Seventy of my strongest fighters were on board. They’d been able to get themselves together in record time. All were outfitted in heavy armor with artifacts and weaponry. This must be a new world record for getting men together in full combat readiness.

“Are we going to kill people?” Chernomor broke the silence.

“No, we’re off to resurrect them!” I shook my head. “If possible.”

Chapter 5

JULIA WAS SO HAPPY with her birthday celebration. This was her special day! She was going to be the center of attention, because they were all there for her. The ballroom was magnificent, with tables laden with a variety of delicacies; the wine flowed like a river, and there were aristocrats not only from the city, but also from neighboring regions, and none of them neglected to present the birthday girl with all sorts of jewelry and no end of attention

Of course, lots of the young men were also circling around her that night, so all evening long Julia was on cloud nine.

It was a simply fabulous party, really, at least for the most part. Of course, there were a few squabbles between aristocrat, which escalated into duels until one or the other side drew first blood. This was to be expected, and was a chief form of entertainment among the nobility. It was a way to size each other up, and see who’d mastered weapons or their Gift better.

But then, towards the end of the evening something unexpected occurred. It was a serious scandal in which two of their guests engaged in duels to the death. Of course, this was in violation of the rules mandated by Julia’s father. As the host of the event he had the right to forbid duels to the death. Indeed, had he wanted, he could have prohibited any sort of dueling that night.

This was a given in aristocratic society, and yet that evening Julia’s father’s wishes had been violated. And in the end, the two duels left two lifeless bodies lying on the cold marble floor. The patriarch right away turned to the Imperial Chancellery to handle the violators. In his mind, this was nothing short of murder, and the perpetrators had to be punished. It didn’t matter that all of the witnesses said that the duelists simply got carried away, and didn’t mean to kill their adversaries. It had just sort of happened.

An hour later, Count Bulatov himself arrived. As the Bulatov Family head, he was culpable, and so he’d come in person to answer to the charges. Julia looked with interest at the stately young man who calmly exited the plane and headed towards the entrance to the mansion, paying no attention to the aristocrats and servants frozen in surprise. His huge plane drew their notice as it had landed right in the middle of the car park and even nicked a couple of vehicles with its wings.

“Count Bulatov!” the commander of the guard met Mikhail at the entrance. He was very tall and dressed in expensive techno-armor; on his back was a large-caliber rifle and he had a rather large cleaver sheathed at his waist. “Your subordinates have violated the laws of the criminal code of the Russian Empire!”

“Right!” nodded Count Bulatov as he tried to circle around the guard, who was blocking his path. The latter, though, stepped in front of him again, not allowing him to pass inside. “Are you serious?” sighed the young count.

“I aim to have your people detained until the arrival of the Imperial Forces. And I have the authority to do just that,” the commander hissed, as Bulatov’s eyebrows rose.

Julia screamed as the young Healer suddenly grabbed the huge commander by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

Everyone around saw the commander’s surprised face and the strength emanating from him. He struggled to break free and suppress the count’s power with his aura, trying to tear the hands off his neck, but it was futile. Bulatov just stood there, looking into his eyes.

“Do not forget who you’re talking to!” Bulatov’s voice was loud and clear and everyone there could hear him. Especially because a deathly silence reigned.

Then, the commander grimaced, gathered all his strength, and did all he could to break free. His aura hit the people around him, causing them to wince, but even that did not help the mighty warrior. Now he was even more surprised. They all knew that Count Bulatov was just a Healer. It wasn’t part of his Gift to possess such physical strength.

“Watch your language from now on,” the death grip loosened, and the exhausted form of the commander fell to the floor with a crash. Then, Mikhail stepped over him and, looking bored, he set off to find the troublesome duo.

“Count Bulatov!” — the patriarch of the Family himself came out to meet Mikhail. He had just been informed of his arrival, so he decided to personally greet the guest, and at the same time ensure that he didn’t do anything stupid. True, now Belousov understood that he was a little late. After all, by the time he arrived, the commander of the Belousov guard already lying on the steps of the mansion. Meanwhile, the rest of the guard did not know what to do. Attack and start a war? Or stand aside, while not appearing in the best light.

“Greetings,” nodded Bulatov. “Perhaps you can tell me what happened here?”

“Your people dared to violate my conditions and abused my hospitality,” he frowned, “As a result, two respected guests have been killed within the walls of my house, and you, or they, will have to answer for it.”

“But I don’t feel death here,” Mikhail said with narrowed eyes.

“They’re in a necrotic coma, which is the same thing.” Bulatov simply grinned at that, and walking inside, he looked around.

“Where?” he asked.

“Are you talking about your people or about the dead?” asked Belousov.

“Both the one and the other!” exclaimed the Healer, and taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, he plunged onward into the ballroom.

* * *

Okay, first things first. It wasn’t hard to find Vika and Belmore. They were sitting together having a bite to eat with an exclusion zone around them. Nobody wanted to draw near them after seeing their respective duels. This was just fine with the two Necromancers. After all, nobody was stopping them from sampling whatever they wanted from all of the offerings. They could eat and drink to their heart’s content. And Vika wasn’t afraid of putting on weight, either, since she had me around.

Maybe to punish her I should make her a little chubby. I could add some fat to her tummy, for example. Let her enjoy being on the hefty side...Hmmm...but that would cost me. She wouldn’t be able to fit into her dresses and then she’d run off to buy new ones. No, that would bust our budget.

“Come with me, please!” said Belousov, and headed for a separate room. I gestured for my two troublemakers to follow us. Vika sighed while Belmore grabbed a couple of plates of food to take with him. “Those are the bodies of the victims.”

I went into the room, and there, indeed, on two separate tables, lay a girl and some old man. Although I recognized the second one, as he was the patriarch of a famous and powerful line of Necromancers, the girl wasn’t familiar to me.

“Remove the curse from them!” said a local Healer who met me there. He was a stately individual of a certain age, and looked like an intelligent man. In actuality, though, he was a rare idiot since he was unable to cope with a necrotic coma. Our forces were diametrically opposed to necrotism, and thus we could easily drive it out of the victims’ bodies before it took root there. But no, this Healer had instead attempted to fill their channels with his power; he had no idea that he could actually focus on the centers of the curse. But why was I surprised? By now I should expect nothing but mediocrity from the Empire’s Healers.

“I don’t know how,” Victoria said, throwing up her hands, “All I can do is inflict my power on them.”

The Healer and I then looked at Belmore, who stood in the background shoveling salad into his mouth.

“What...?” he mumbled, realizing that I expected something from him. Then he pouted, crossed his arms and looked away. “I refuse!”

At that, I sighed in exasperation. I’ll deal with my two Necromancers later.

“Look,” the Healer indicated the inert forms of the victims. “This is an outrage! And they will do nothing to make it right! What impudence!” he sputtered.

I grimaced at his shouting and said, “You could have revived them yourself. As it is, I’m missing out on some much-needed sleep.”

“Hah! Very funny. But I expect nothing less from a loser such as yourself!” he sneered. “You never even graduated from the academy, did you?”

“How could I? I never even enrolled in it,” I said, jabbing him in the forehead with my finger and sapping him of a little strength. Yes, I am able to draw strength from other Healers just like that. I don’t even have to process it; it right away flows through my channels as if it is my own.

So just to cheer myself up I sapped some energy from this snotty Healer. And in so doing I shut him up. His body went limp and he then sprawled across the floor while I walked over to the two bodies.

“Do not use force, or we will have to take action!” Belousov warned me. First I looked at the Healer on the floor, then at Belousov, and smiled. “He’s just sleeping. How can you call that a use of force?”

Of course, I’d have liked to have everyone leave the room. But there were also a lot of cameras mounted on the walls, and it would look pretty strange if I was to shut them all off. So my only recourse was to try to revive them without making it look like a miracle.

I stood between the two tables and put one hand on the chest of the old man, and the other on the chest of the girl. Then I exhaled, closed my eyes, and, channeling energy into them, I created some simple spells to draw the necrotics out. I’d have preferred to incinerate the necrotics inside their bodies, but that would have looked too spectacular.

True, as it was, the onlookers were just the same amazed. Both bodies first arched in violent convulsions, then they shook, and then both of them started screaming. This was to be expected. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But this was their own fault; they shouldn’t have goaded my Necromancers into a duel. Once doing so, well, be prepared to die or, at the very least, suffer for it.

“That’s it!” I said, spinning around and heading for the door as I shook my hands. Meanwhile, the newly revived duo was screaming, howling, and the girl even fell off the table and was clawing at her face. But nothing was amiss; this phase would pass in about ten minutes. After all, what I’d done was shake her soul, practically tearing it out of her body and then returning it to where it belonged. This entailed some pain and suffering. There was no way to avoid it.

“Problem solved. They’re not dead. Nobody was murdered,” I said, looking back once more at them to ensure all was well and nodding to Belmore and Vika. “Vika, Belmore, let’s go! We’re leaving now.”

They nodded obediently and headed towards the exit, but our path was blocked by guards and Belousov’s first assistant.

“Wait! Yes, we’re happy to witness their miraculous revival, but I can’t let you go! This needs to be sorted out; those who represent their Families will arrive soon!” said the assistant.

“I don’t care. We’re leaving,” I shook my head.

“No! I must detain you!”

“Belmore,” I said, turning to the Necromancer, “I haven’t slept in three days. If I’m prevented from getting to bed in the shortest possible time, start killing them.”

“Everyone?” smiled Belmore.

“Of course, everyone,” I sighed.

“Well, okay,” he shrugged and looked at the people blocking his path. Fortunately, the assistant turned out to be smart, and his master was even smarter. They both looked at each other and without a word they let us pass.

We silently walked through the ballroom towards the exit. On the way out Belmore grabbed some more plates of salad. Then we boarded our plane and it smoothly rose upward.

“Oh, why is this plane so crowded?” asked Belmore, seeing that the passenger compartment was filled with our best guards. Our two Combat Suits were tossing cards at each other and our old codgers were arguing about something, but they fell silent when we walked in.

“I brought them along just in case,” I said as I sat down. “As for you two, take a seat,” I added, indicating the row opposite me “We need to talk. You first.”

“Me?” Victoria asked, pointing at herself, and I nodded. “Well, what can I say? I got a little carried away...” I started to respond to that, but right away she raised her hands. “But you have to understand why! That bitch made my life hell at the academy! She cut my hair off, and was always mocking me and encouraging others to do likewise. And to this day I have no idea why!”

“Okay. What’s your story? You, her guardian, mentor, and general role model,” I turned my gaze to Belmore, who wilted a bit.

“Well, I have good reason, as well...” he muttered. “That was a stupid old fool who was arguing over matters about which he had no clue.”

I should have at least scolded them. They warranted that, if only to teach them a lesson. I should even have come up with some kind of punishment that they’d remember. But...what would that accomplish? That fact is that if I’d come across someone who tormented me in my youth, or a Healer who was insisting on idiocy right to my face, would I have acted differently? Indeed, I’d have inflicted more than a mere coma on them.

“Sir,” one of the pilots approached me, “we’re being pursued.”

“I didn’t expect that to happen so quickly,” I was genuinely surprised. “Are they making any demands?”

“No, for now they’re simply closing in on us. It looks like a combat landing aircraft, but I could be wrong.”

“Okay, go back to the cockpit,” I nodded. “Let me know when they try to make contact.”

The pilot nodded, and I closed my eyes and began to bring the runic protection of the hull to combat readiness. It wasn’t something anyone could see, but our Artifactor had done a great job at optimizing the effect. And I also had backup protection, although it wasn’t as durable. But it could be instantly activated, for example in the case of a surprise attack. That being said, none of this was a panacea, because it was impossible to be totally invulnerable.

In another ten minutes the plane caught up with us and drew level with us. Thus I, the pilots, and also Chernomor could make out the model. Indeed, it was a combat landing aircraft bristling with weaponry. Rockets, cannons, machine guns. In contrast, our plane had none.

“This is Captain Rod Rubenstein of the combat interceptor,” came the message from the aircraft. “I order you to initiate your descent, and prepare to land.”

“Rubenstein?” I turned to Victoria

“What, do you know them?” asked Vika.

“No, but it seems to be the name of your ‘frenemy’ from the academy,” I said. “Looks like they didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye. Here they are pursuing us.”

“Begin descent immediately!” again repeated the captain of the combat interceptor. “The Rubenstein Family representatives insist on talking to you!”

“By what right do you Rubensteins insist on my participating in what, some kind of meeting? Who are these people anyway?” I had to use the microphone to respond because the Rubenstein captain was shouting so loudly.

“Reduce speed right now! Or we will have no choice but to use force!” it was as if he hadn’t heard me. “The Family would like to discuss with you the extradition of Countess Victoria.”

“By what right?” I asked, by now surprised. How brazen to make such demands.

“She attacked our heiress, and we insist on taking her into custody!” This was someone else speaking now. It must be the so-called representative himself.

“What if I refuse to land”“ I laughed.

“We’ll shoot you down!” he immediately shouted.

“You do understand that this will initiate a war?”

“But of course.” Right, he didn’t want to play nice, no doubt about it.

I looked at Chernomor, and he shook his head. The enemy plane had too many guns and missiles. The runic protection simply wouldn’t withstand such a barrage of fire, and our plane would be torn to pieces. Yes, my plane was costlier than theirs, and superior in many ways. But we didn’t have weapons.

Speaking of, I asked Chernomor why attack artifacts had not yet been installed on board. Except for our old codger with Margarita, we could only defend ourselves.

“Willson said that it’s not as simple as it seems,” Chernomor spread his hands. “There is a lot to consider and calculate before he can fashion this into an attack aircraft. But he’s working on it.”

“Okay,” I sighed, “Land the plane.”

There were at least a hundred fighters in the Rubenstein plane. All were equipped with the latest technology and wielded powerful weapons. Be we, too, had some teeth, and could respond well. It would be easier to deal with them on the ground.

“Maybe we should try to make it to the castle? We could maneuver at an extremely low altitude and force them into a risky pursuit,” suggested Chernomor. “Once there, we could activate our air defense systems. Or the tower, at least as a last resort. One way or another we could take their plane out.”

“No,” I shook my head, “We’re descending. This is too formidable an opponent for any games.”

No one had a response to that, although I could tell that they all understood the gravity of the situation. The enemy could, indeed, blow our plane to pieces with one salvo, and therefore we had to meet him on the ground. There, even though the odds weren’t in our favor, we at least had a chance, even if they had twice our numbers and their fighters were top-notch. Not just anyone was selected to be a paratrooper.

As for my guard, well, it was comprised of old codgers and the formerly disabled. We even had pigeons serving in our army.

* * *

The Rubenstein Family estate

Office of the Family patriarch

“I don’t care!” the man growled into the phone. “I clearly told you to bring me the person who crippled my daughter! And now you’re saying that her fiancé came for her and took her away? I warned Belousov not to let them leave his lands until the countess was in my hands!”

“Mr. Rubenstein, it’s not that simple,” the commander of the detachment that was sent after the offender hesitated. “Bulatov attacked Belousov’s people and threatened all who tried to stop him from leaving.”

“I don’t care!” he again howled. “Where are our birds? Send a plane out to intercept them! Now! And transport my daughter on another plane!”

“But this is war…” the commander said, but then stopped short. “I beg your pardon, sir. Your will be done.”

“That’s more like it,” Rubenstein calmed down a little. “I don’t care that this means war. And all I want is the countess; Bulatov isn’t my problem. So get that plane to the ground and bring me the girl. I want to look into her eyes, and let my daughter decide her fate,” he said with an evil smile, because he knew what that meant for Countess Bulatov.

“But they say that your daughter was the first to provoke the conflict,” the commander said, again speaking out of line.

“Need I again tell you that I don’t care? If necessary, shoot down Bulatov’s plane. If we must, we’ll crush his Family and take all the assets. Really, who are the Bulatovs?” asked the patriarch, realizing that he didn’t really know. “I’ve never even heard of them...”

“To the best of my knowledge, they were on their last legs, but recently they’ve been making a comeback.”

“Better and better,” responded the patriarch, “Bring me this countess and make it fast.”

“And if the count is against it?”

“If he resists, do what you must to get the job done. We have enough strength, we can afford it,” he concluded, and ended the call, leaning back wearily in his chair and pouring himself some whiskey from a decanter. “She was the one to provoke the conflict,” he chuckled. “That’s my daughter! Just like her old man...”

* * *

Out of fifty people, only twenty remained... Belmore and Vika were no long with us, and everyone else was wounded. Some of them were seriously injured, although I’d already stabilized them, and we were now slowly flying towards the castle to deliver them to the infirmary.

That being said, we could all be glad that the outcome wasn’t worse still. When a triple defense, reinforced by artifacts, was taken out by a single blow from an energy cannon, getting away with only wounds is nothing short of a triumph.

“Why are you so worried?” I patted Chernomor on the shoulder. He was sitting down on a bench with his back against the wall staring into space. “Cheer up. All is well!”

“What...?” he responded, looking lost.

“I can see that you’re worried. I can sense your racing pulse,” I tiled my head, “you can’t fool me.”

“How can I not be worried?” he sighed. “Look at this mess!” he glanced around the modest interior of the plane.

“Your point?” I asked.

“You really don’t understand what just happened?” exclaimed Chernomor.

“You tell me. Enlighten me, please; be so kind,” I sat down next to him.

“We just captured a second-class combat corvette without a single loss!” Chernomor boomed throughout the plane. “Is that business as usual?”

“Well, it happens, old man. Why are you upset by it? Perhaps you need a nap? Your nerves seem frayed.”

“No, don’t,” he flicked aside a clot of green energy I’d sent his way. “Let’s wait until we get to the castle, and then we’ll see.”

*Psh-sh-sh!*

“Sir, Countess Bulatov is calling you!” shouted the pilot, and I made my way to the cockpit.

I had to admit that this plane wasn’t even close to as comfortable as my other plane. Not by a long shot. But it had guns, and that made up for it.

“Mikhail, we’ve already landed! Will you be here soon?” asked Vika and I looked at the pilots. They just threw up their hands and said, “We’re doing everything we can.”

“If this plane hadn’t been hit, then we’d be there faster,” I responded.

“Really, why did they flee so swiftly? I had to act quickly; my instincts were kick-started.” Belmore was indignant.

“Why is it that you didn’t level your death magic at the people? Why did you have to hit the plane?” I asked, recalling what had happened. The enemies scattered, realizing that even though they were paratroopers, for some reason they weren’t on the winning side. This was even with the support of the aircraft’s guns. So Belmore hit the target, tearing one of the engines to shreds.

“Ah, but this was an enemy plane at the time,” Belmore retorted, adding “my intention was to take out the occupants, not the aircraft itself.”

In fact, the battle turned out to be serious, and the enemy was formidable. First, a talking head from the Rubenstein Family stepped out voicing some arrogant demands in an irritating tone. True, he didn’t say much before he was toast. Belmore couldn’t stand the way they spoke to his ward. Too bad he didn’t take care of her better at the ball.

But, in fact, they clearly weren’t out to kill us all. They were after Victoria and that’s it, up until we killed their Family representative. After that, a shootout erupted. Belmore was angry, and then Vika lost her temper, too. After that, all I could do was heal people as needed to ensure none of our guys died.

And although the enemy had set out after us to steal our countess, in the end, they left us their plane and lost many strong fighters. Too bad, though, that this meant the beginning of a new war. But I didn’t start it. When they’d threatened to shoot us down, that was a declaration of war. Of course, one might allege that Victoria herself was to blame; she’d failed to control her powers, violated the rules at Belousov’s ball, and practically killed that girl, but... I don’t give a damn, because the bottom line is that Victoria is who she is, one of us. She may be wrong, but she is Bulatov, and so am I.

Incidentally, it’s a good thing I’d worked on the old codgers. They had a great grasp of combat strategy, and it was their advice that had compelled me to bring along backup pilots. I didn’t see the need for them back then, but I heeded what they’d said. And good thing, too. It’s not like these were top-notch pilots, but they managed to get this plane off the ground.

True, by the time we landed it was smoking. They also scraped our wall with the belly of the plane, slightly damaged a wing flying too low over a barn, but at least there weren’t any injuries. Now all this ‘bird’ needed was serious repairs and some maintenance, and then we’d have a fully-functioning assault aircraft to add to our fleet. I’m certain that we’ll find a use for it.

Vika and Belmore met me near the castle. They wanted to talk, but I shook my head and walked past them. I still had a lot to do, including some important paperwork. I also had to deal with the Imperial Chancellery, and only then would we discuss what went down at the ball. Meanwhile, we’d received quite a few complaints, numerous calls, but thus far, no fines or penalties. Of passing interest is that one Family who had nothing to do with this mess also lodged a complaint. They claimed that their son was now stuttering due to the release of a wave of necrotics at the ball. I offered to pay for a speech therapist, or to even take a look at their son myself. I could cure him. At this, they withdrew their complaint.

It took until the morning to sort out these issues, but in the end, I’d resolved any outstanding matter with the Empire. After all, nobody had died at the ball, so there were no murders. Everything else that transpired was within the boundaries of the law. Only then did I send for Vika and Belmore, who all this time had been waiting in the drawing room.

* * *

Victoria walked into Mikhail’s office as if she was headed for the chopping block. She understood that she was partly to blame for what had happened. But how was she to know that Anastasia, the evil-doer who had done what she could to make her life hell at the academy was, in fact, such a wimp? Or perhaps what happened was that Vika had a fantastic teacher and was now much, much stronger?

She’d been turning all this over in her mind, but what worried her most was how Mikhail felt about it all. He’d looked pretty angry at Belousov’s mansion. And after that, because of her, they’d had to fight a detachment of paratroopers. Yes, she’d made a significant contribution to their victory, in part to prove herself, but it might not be enough. In the end, it was her actions that had led to a war between the two Families. Already they had enough wars...Worse still, she was supposed to establish connections at the ball.

And Belmore, too, was ill at ease. After all, his only job was to protect the girl. And he couldn’t even cope with this; not by a long shot, as evidenced by the duel occurring on his watch.

“Well?” Mikhail looked up, first at her, and then at her mentor.

They simply stood there looking downward, waiting to hear what he would say. But then he handed them two papers with the Family seal.

“What is this?” asked Vika.

“Certificates,” Mikhail shrugged, “One for each of you. Take it. Hang it on the wall in your room, Vika. Above your bed, maybe. I’ve already asked the lumberjacks to make some nice frames.”

“What kind of certificates?” Victoria was mystified.

Well,” he began, “you get the certificate for the top diplomat of the year. Everything is official and certified with a seal, mind you,” Mikhail smiled. “And you,” he turned to Belmore, “you are the year’s best guardian. You’ve also excelled, yes.”

Chapter 6

“BELOUSOV, YOUR HOSPITALITY is outstanding. It is lauded throughout the Empire,” said the Darkov Family representative, who was the son of the patriarch. Now, he was looking intently at Count Belousov as they sat at a conference table. He was attired in a somber robe, which was a tradition in his Family, and he looked like he was around forty years old. Generally the Darkovs elected to wear dark colors, but this wasn’t anything unusual for a Family of Necromancers. “But how, then, could you allow this to happen? Two duels that almost ended in tragedy?”

Actually, there were quite a few aristocrats gathered around the table. Representatives of both of the Families were there, and Belousov, too, had summoned his own people, along with witnesses. They’d all come together that night to discuss what steps needed to be taken in light of the evening’s events. And although the duels had taken place in full accordance with the regulations, those representing the losing Families were not ready to accept what had happened. Their Family honor had been, one could say, dragged through the mud, disgraced in full public, before everyone in attendance that night. And worse still was that this was at the hands of some Healer and his underlings, a virtually unknown Family with no power, nor influence.

“Watch your words, Darkov,” Belousov frowned, “I did everything in my power to prevent these duels; yours in particular…” he pointed at Darkov and Rubenstein. In fact, these were the ones who had clamored for a fight loudest of all. Who would have thought that they would end up on the losing side?

“What an unexpected surprise, crashing and burning like that,” chuckled one of the aristocrats. He’d witnessed both duels at close range and seen exactly what had happened. But he wiped the smile off his face when he saw the glares leveled at him by the Darkovs and Rubensteins; both Families were undoubtedly strong and definitely influential.

“The Bulatov family used to be powerful,” mused Belousov. He still remembered back in the day when he was young and everybody knew who the Bulatovs were. “But that was a long time ago,” he sighed. “Now, nobody knows who they are. Although if you believe the intelligence about them recently, the new Family head has stopped their downward trajectory—dramatically. Now they seemed to be making a comeback.”

“What, that Healer?” Rubenstein scoffed, “Don’t make me laugh!”

“Look at my commander of the guard,” Count Belousov pointed to the man who had been standing behind him all this time. He stepped forward and pulled back the collar of his shirt, showing everyone his bruises. Mikhail’s fingerprints remained on his skin--black smudges, and now the commander may have to spend some time in the infirmary, not because of the bruises; rather, he had a case of severe diarrhea.

“Ah, so he also attacked you!” Rubenstein was outraged. “Why didn’t you show him his place right then and there?”

“Your daughter was dying at the time, and he alone was her greatest hope for survival,” Belousov said, looking directly at him. “Are either of you sure it would have made sense for me to seize him instead? Actually, we hadn’t even given him permission to land that plane, nor did we know how many forces he had on board it. When we tried to see for ourselves, we were greeted by the barrel of a machine gun.”

“So you were unable to shoot down a plane? One flying over your own territory?” laughed one of the witnesses, a rich baron. “Nobody but nobody flies over my mansion without my permission.”

“Ha! That’s because nobody but nobody wants to drop in on you,” said his neighbor with a chuckle.

“Shoot it down?” laughed Belousov. “But what’s it matter now? Anyway, someone here already set out to capture him,” he looked at Rubenstein. “By the way, how’d that go? Did you get him?”

“We’re looking for him,” he muttered.

“No need. He is already back in Arkhangelsk. As some nice folks in the know have informed me, your smoking attack aircraft has been spotted landing right around the location of the Bulatov castle,” he went on. “Thus, my conclusion is you’ve failed.”

“That sounds like complete nonsense,” Darkov couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Those weakling Families never emerge from their hidey-holes, no. They’re not about to go on the attack. They’ve got their hands full simply contending with all of the portals on their lands. And yet this Bulatov flies to a ball with an army!?”

“All of this is fascinating stuff, but now what?” Rubenstein tried to redirect the conversation. “Personally, I will not forgive Bulatov, but the problem is that his lands are located too far away. I don’t even have a residence in Arkhangelsk.”

“Nor do I,” muttered Darkov, “but why do we need a residence there? The major culprits are Count Bulatov, his countess, Victoria, and her mentor. Kill that trio, and that’s enough! Done!” he said with a sweeping gesture.

“We’ll work on it. Victoria must be given to me, preferably alive,” Rubenstein nodded, “I have my own plans for her...”

“With all due respects, let’s work on our more nefarious plans somewhere else!” frowned Belousov. “I won’t tolerate that kind of talk in my house!”

“No? Looks to me like you put up with all kinds of sordid escapades in your house. So don’t preach at us,” Darkov responded, and went on discussing the liquidation of the Bulatovs with the others.

* * *

I’m sitting here, looking out the window, and I can’t get enough of it. I was given plenty of time to sleep, meditate, read books in a calm environment, and even eat my fill of meat, and then cakes. But that wasn’t even the most important thing.

Several days had passed since that ball, yes, where Vika and Belmore proved themselves and earned their well-deserved certificates. And look out there now! The sun was shining and the birds were singing. But that’s because the pigeons made them sing. These feathered reptiles instill fear all over the castle grounds, and a couple of times I noticed how they forced forest birds to do their bidding. First, a titmouse will dart after some sprouting seeds, and then a lark will produce melodic tunes as needed to serve as an alarm clock. The pigeons ruled over the local wildlife, at least in practice. The only ones to escape their tyranny are the eagles and hawks, but they, too, will someday fall. It is only a matter of time.

The weather was lovely out there, and young leaves were sprouting throughout the countryside, and it was warm. The ground was covered with a thick carpet of grass, and finally, after the long winter hibernation, nature was coming alive. By the way, what was the date? If my memory served me right summer was on the horizon.

Not that it mattered. What I was admiring from my window wasn’t really nature itself, nor was it the castle. What I was most appreciating was the sight of our new plane, which was currently undergoing repairs. And what fine fellows our newest enemies were to use it to attack us. Right away they sought to flex some muscle, intimidate us...

What was most amusing what how Vika and Belmore were doing their best to avoid me. How fun, really! They were certain that I was unhappy with them, but, in fact, this was because I was going out of my way to “accidentally” cross their paths, shaking my head and sighing and with a grim look on my face.

Of course, I didn’t really care about what transpired at that ball. What concerned me most of all was the danger Vika might encounter; that she might get hurt. They might want to lock her in a dungeon, or some idiot might attempt to strike her. As for exacting revenge on the Rubenstein girl, well, that was only natural In fact, I’d briefly considered not healing the wench that night. But Vika’s reputation was at stake, so I had to bring her back to life.

It was possible, actually, that someone might think that Victoria wanted to kill her offender, and that she’d deliberately dealt a powerful blow at the very beginning of the duel. Others might say that it was fortunate that I, a Healer, showed up. But I was sure that most of them, including the ones who’d come close to dying at the hands of my Necromancers, would insist that they came to their senses on their own. They’d just passed out, right?

True, Belmore’s behavior was surprising. This I didn’t expect from him. Next time I needed to be crystal clear when I gave him an order, make sure he knew what to do in any situation he might encounter. What was allowable, and what wasn’t. He was accustomed to his home world’s norms, where he ruled the roost and would order his minions about.

After I was finished appreciating the plane and after I was done guilt-tripping Victoria and Belmore with my dejected demeanor, I summoned my earth mages. They’d been working hard on our captured lands, which we’d transformed into a rock quarry, and were helping out with loading the rock by doing the work of ten excavators at once. They were downright zealous in an unhealthy kind of way in how they were tossing huge boulders into the backs of the trucks. Thus, they’d been dashing about unloading rock here and there and transporting more to wherever we needed it.

“How are you there?” I asked, having reached Ludwig by phone; judging by the noise, I was taking him away from some work. “Are the plans working out?”

“We’re even ahead of schedule!” he exclaimed joyfully as I heard a roaring sound in the background. “We just need to upgrade these trucks. Some of them aren’t up to the task. Their metal bodies wrinkle too easily.”

“What the hell are you bastards doing?!” I heard someone shout. Ah, clearly they were throwing that rock around too freely and damaging the machinery.

“Every time you damage a truck you’ll be losing a day off...” I smiled. Again I heard a roar and a driver’s heart-rending cry.

“Anyway we don’t get any days off!” Ludwig snarled.

“Okay, well, now you can be sure you’ll never get any,” I said with an evil laugh. “Now get back to work!” I ended the call and turned to other matters.

I’d had a good rest, but that couldn’t last forever. I always had something to do. For example, it’s been quite some time since I’ve given an exam to my medical students. They might be relaxing too much, and that was unacceptable.

“Are you ready for an exam?” I burst into their study room, which was attached to the infirmary. They all jumped up at once and greeted me. True, they were all hiccupping, but were used to it already, and had adjusted well to this state of affairs. Since it was hard to sleep with the hiccups, they’d been studying all night. After all, nobody told them it would be easy, did they?

First I carried out a short survey and was pleasantly surprised. The hiccups really had truly worked wonders because, as a whole, the entire group was now much stronger than just a week and a half ago. However, this was written knowledge, not practice.

In this respect, our only girl produced the best results. She was up on written knowledge, to be sure. She was trying her best, yes. And I recalled that I’d promised her and another student that I’d teach them something about how to use our Gift in combat, but no, they weren’t ready for that yet.

“What do you do if a lower limb has been amputated?” I asked pointing at one of the students.

“What part of the leg?” he asked.

“Good question!” I nodded. It was important to know just that. “Okay, right below the knee.”

“Partial operation, or the full treatment?” he asked again, adjusting his glasses.

“Full!”

“In that case, first, stop the bleeding by cauterizing the energy of the main vessels. Then, block the outgoing magical channels and concentrate energy in the regenerative nodes.”

“Sit down,” I said. “Erectile dysfunction for a month. You did not specify what kind of amputation it was, or whether the limb itself was still at hand. It would have been easier to just reattach it and not waste energy,” the boy was clearly upset by the punishment, but still accepted the clot of energy that I threw at him.

“Don’t worry so much, Vasily,” his comrade patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t need to think about sex for the next month anyway.”

“No?” I laughed. “Then that applies to you, too,” I said, throwing a spell at him, as well. “If you can cope with your new maladies, I’ll let you go into the city for a day. But under the supervision of my guards.”

I didn’t say that I would cast a spell of dumbness on them and deprive them of the ability to express their thoughts in writing. Not that they were likely to succeed, although it would be interesting to watch their attempts.

“What about me?”

“Me too!”

The others also perked up; almost everyone wanted the opportunity to go to the city. But no one said it would be easy. I dissolved the left collarbone of one, and grew hair on the face of the second. It was around thirty centimeters long and curly. I even grew hair on his nose. And I gifted a kidney stone that was so big inside the third that he now had a hard time walking. After this, the number of those wanting to participate markedly decreased, and thus we could move onto to testing their practice.

“Are you ready to show me what you can do?” I said, standing up and walking to the door. “Whoever passes will be freed of the hiccups, and whoever doesn’t will then have to put up with a novel new nuisance of a malady. I might arrange for swelling varicose veins, for example. I can tell if you’re not up to snuff pretty quickly.”

“Yes, yes!” the hiccupping students exclaimed in chorus.

“I warn you, the exam will be difficult,” I couldn’t help but smile and opened the door. A guard hesitantly entered the infirmary and looked around. “Let’s conduct a simulation. I will inflict this man with ailments, and your job is to cure them,” I said, and at this the guard turned pale. Apparently nobody told him why he had to come to the infirmary. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll step in and fix everything, hopefully in time,” I patted him on the shoulder.

“Why not have a prisoner serve as our test subject?” asked a student, raising his hand.

“Hello. That’s so inhumane,” I looked at him as if he was a fool. Everybody knows how wrong it is to abuse prisoners. “Okay, who wants to impress me first? Let’s start with something simple: by visual inspection you should find hyperemic areas on the skin and determine the source of inflammation.”

“Hey, we’ve all done this before already!” exclaimed a particularly boisterous student. “It’s easy! I want to go first!” he jumped up from his seat and approached me and the guard.

“Excellent! Then get to it,” I jabbed his forehead with a finger and he emitted an inhuman scream.

“A-a-a! Eyes! My eyes! I can’t see anything!” he clutched his face and fell to the floor. “What did you do?”

“I blinded you a little. Now get to it! Conduct a visual inspection!” I could barely contain my laughter. No, well, it was a funny joke! Why wasn’t anybody else laughing? Why were they all so scared now? Especially the guardsman; his skin was turning redder and redder and his face was contorted in pain from the inflammation.

“Calm down,” I gave the student a jab. “You won’t cure your blindness by screaming.”

“What did you do that for?” squealed the student.

“I told you the exam was difficult,” I said. “Now do you believe me?”

“I thought that I was supposed to simply examine and treat the test subject!”

“Yes, but under difficult conditions. What did you expect? Do you think that if a Healer loses his sight during a battle that he stops being a Healer? No, he doesn’t! So do your job!” I sat down on a vacant chair and crossed my legs as I set about observing how my students had been progressing. Yes, I thought all this would be a little easier...However, clearly they thought so too.

* * *

Defensive fortifications of Baron Grishanov

Early morning

Three guards stood at the very top of the tower, and one of them could not tear himself away from his binoculars. He looked at the enemy wall and muttered something. Then he shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and again glued himself to the binoculars.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” he concluded half an hour later. “I really don’t like it.”

“What?” wearily sighed another guard.

“I swear! I swear, I tell you! Yesterday that wall was farther off!” he said, still looking through the binoculars. “I’m sure of it! It was definitely twenty or so meters to the south!”

“Val, have you fallen ill?” said his commander, walking up and putting his hand on the guard’s forehead. “You’re not feverish, I don’t think.”

“No, I’m fine!” the guard was starting to get angry. “I’m telling you the truth! I swear by it!”

“Val, really, calm down,” said another in a soothing voice. “The wall can’t move, it’s impossible,” he looked at his colleague’s twitching eye and sighed. “Go on, get some rest, and we’ll keep watch here for you.”

And the guard did end up going off to rest up while the others in the tower told the commander that he should dismiss him and make him get compulsory treatment. And this entire little drama was shared with the earth mages thanks to pigeon reconnaissance. They laughed heartily on the other side of the wall, and continued to slowly take away enemy land by simply moving the wall deeper into the gorge.

* * *

They all seemed swollen after the exam while the guard, happy and contented, ran off to have a good time in the city. For such inhuman suffering, I could not help but let him go; it would have been truly wrong to not reward him.

But why? Why were my students so soft? They screamed, asked for their sight and lost limbs to be returned, some simply wheezed. But I got it. I’d deprived them of the ability to breathe, after all. And before he passed out, I had to step in and treat my guardsman.

In general, they failed the exam and immediately retired to the study hall to review the materials I’d given them. I also gave them a couple of new books to help them learn how to better control their bodies.

Now I was in our drawing room with a cake I’d brought in. I poured myself some tea and sat there watching the news with great pleasure. Something exploded out there somewhere, and elsewhere somebody attacked someone else—the usual stuff. But that wasn’t all. I saw interesting stories on the news, as well. For example, a duke’s daughter had run off with a commoner to build a happy life with him abroad. But a month later she was back, and wasn’t so thrilled about living in a hut.

“Today the emperor announced a new program of incentives for fighting the offworld invaders!” This was after the broadcast, and a pretty anchorwoman appeared on the screen. She talked about what a great emperor we had, and then rolled some footage of a speech he’d made.

There he was talking about how great his subjects were, how we’d all repelled the recent influx of Interface portals, and, in short, how we’d defended our homeland. Then he mentioned how some other lands abroad had suffered much greater losses. And this was despite the fact that not all of the neighboring states had any thunderstorms at all looming over them. We were not at all the lucky ones in this respect. We were almost the record holder when it came to offworld problems.

“Now, for every captured offworlder turned in to our new Imperial service for this purpose, you’ll be awarded a thousand rubles. This payment will increase in accordance with how valuable the prisoner is,” said the emperor, and then the pretty young lady appeared back on the screen.

“Let us make it clear that this new program only applies to prisoners captured near Severodvinsk. In this way, the goal of the emperor is to inspire the aristocracy and mercenary troops to increase their pressure on the offworld enemy, thereby driving him out of our lands. But what will happen to the prisoners? The emperor has yet to tell us.”

Next, a soldier was brought before the cameras and onto the screen. He wore a mercenary uniform.

“My squad took more than seventy people prisoner in two weeks,” he boasted. “Had this new program been in effect we’d have made good money.”

Right, and just a week ago I’d delivered more than four hundred offworld prisoners to the Empire! I felt even more offended than he did at this new program only now being rolled out. Had I known about it before, I could have stashed them all in the castle basement and delivered them now, cashing in on my contribution to the wellbeing of the Empire.

“Now we’ll be taking a totally different approach!” announced the mercenary commander, practically rubbing his hands in glee. “It isn’t as hard as it seems to take prisoners. There are lots of offworlders out there, and they seem to multiply by the day. So now we’ll reap rewards not just through the trophies and artifacts we bring in, but also by taking prisoners. We’ll not only cover our costs, we’ll make some money!”

Indeed, this changed things. But thankfully, not for long. This new program was slated to last only a month. This was so that whatever sundry aristocrats wanted to cash in on “selling” prisoners to the Empire wouldn’t hang around too long. Evidently the emperor sought to completely liberate Severodvinsk over the course of the next month. Or at the very least, he wanted to minimize the territory held by the offworlders, weaken them.

“The most important thing is that those who bring in the most prisoners by the end of the month will receive an additional reward,” the anchorwoman again cooed. “There are special awards for the three aristocrats and three commoners who display the best fighting on the battlefield. They could be granted more land, or titles. Do you understand how difficult it is to earn a title now?” the young lady smiled, and I fell into thought.

I was in such deep thought that I even forgot about my tea.

“Chernomo-o-r!” I hollered a couple of minutes later, and right away he ran into the room. I guess I’d shouted pretty loudly. I didn’t need a radio to make myself heard.

“Oh…” he said, arms flailing, “so you heard the news about the emperor’s new incentive program, right? The one about transferring prisoners to the Empire.”

“So you know about it already?” I was slightly offended.

“Everybody knows, but nobody wanted to tell you,” he admitted.

“Well, not everybody! I didn’t know until just now!” I smiled. “Okay, so let’s go hunting.”

“But what’s the goal? How many prisoners do you want?” he said, looking like he was steeling himself for a shocking number. He was even clutching his heart.

“I’m thinking twenty thousand might suffice,” I said, nodding to myself. “Yes, that should do it.”

“What!?”

“Only my free time runs out the day after tomorrow. Then I’ll be busy. Too bad. If not for that we could bring in even more...” I sighed, “But later, maybe when I’m free again, we can renew the hunt.”

Chapter 7

THE SIXTH REGIMENT of King Raphanael the Fifth’s invasion army took up residence in an estate that previously belonged to one of the lords in this alien land. To them, it was just another castle, as in their world, fortresses and castles were actually not uncommon and could be found in every city. But finding this particular castle, right here, was a spot of luck.

That being said, the castle was far from grand. This was because all that was left of it were the walls and turrets, as everything else had been hauled off by a special royal detachment sent to haul off plunder. Thus, the warriors didn’t even get to appreciate the usual delights of this world. They weren’t provided with any local treats lest they be tempted to settle in these lands.

They’d set up camp here solely because this castle was located sixty kilometers from the main front. So they made themselves comfortable and relaxed, enjoying the local libations, and whatever else they could find. Sadly, all of the storerooms had been emptied throughout the castle, but they did manage to find some food in the surrounding villages. Best of all were the spices. They were so important. If the food here was correctly seasoned, it provided an abundance of energy and tasted pretty good.

“Right, yesss...” drawled a sentry staring into the dark forest as he stood watch. “It’s so different back at home, yesss...”

“So true,” agreed the other sentry. “Home is home, and this place is different...”

“It’s a different world, after all,” the first one raised his finger.

“You can’t argue with that, it’s completely different,” the second nodded, and continued gazing into the darkness of the forest with an even more thoughtful look.

For a while they fell silent, and then a drunk officer looked in on them. He’d consumed some of the local vodka, but still recalled that he was supposed to keep an eye on his subordinates, so had staggered off to make the rounds.

“So, howzit going?” he said, slurring a bit and almost losing his balance. But just in time the sentries grabbed his arms and steadied him.

“All is quiet, sir!” reported the first sentry, “Nothing stirring out there!”

“Good...keep your eyes open! Make sure that not even a mouse slips through!” he said, and set off to check on the rest of his sentries.

In fact, most of the officers had been getting drunk whenever they could find some booze. After all, they were all soon going to be replaced by the sixth regiment, who’d been taking part in bloody battles with the offworlders. The news from the front was that the action was hot and that in recent days the fighting hadn’t let up for even a minute. The other side was sending massive missiles at them while they responded with powerful magic strikes.

But despite the dangers, their forces were all clamoring to join the battle. This was their means of procuring valuable trophies that would net them rewards. Or they might even capture lots of slaves to bring back to their world. Some of them dreamed of finding a means to ensure a comfortable old age, while others were out for guts and glory by participating in legendary battles. Their aims might differ, but they’d all come to this world of their own free will; none of them had to be dragged into battle.

The officer made his rounds and dropped in to see how some of his compatriots stationed in a house situated on the castle grounds were doing. He lucked out there because they had some vodka to share, and after a bit he staggered out back toward the castle to join in an ad hoc banquet for the officers and mages.

Of course, none of the rank and file were on duty at the castle itself. They were all housed in the barracks and surrounding villages, and only appeared at the castle when required to do so.

“Where? I ask you, where?” several carts had gathered near the castle. Despite the late hour, they were hastily unloading ammunition, supplies of arrows and bolts, reserve weapons, and even shells for siege weapons. But the person in charge of receiving the convoy was not happy. “Where are the artifacts? How are we to go into battle without them?” he grabbed the soldier leading the convoy by the collar, even lifting him off the ground.

“Er...I...” he sputtered, but the officer cut off his stammering excuses.

“How are we to face off against techno-weapons without artifacts? Well? Perhaps I should send you into battle? No? You don’t want that?” he growled.

“We did have artifacts!” responded the soldier, “But they didn’t make it here. Lord Varlon showed up and took our cart full of artifacts!”

“What?! How did that happen?” now the officer lost it and his power burst out. It was common practice to tap combat mages for the command, and he was one such. And his armor was suddenly encased in a crust of ice, while an icy light shone in his eyes.

“His regiment is taking part in the defense against the earthling forces!” cried the soldier, now cowering as if expecting a blow.

The drunk officer witnessed this, and waving his hand, he moved on. He wasn’t responsible for supplies, so he didn’t have to worry about it. He walked about a bit more listening to the chatter. Anyway they’d get more artifacts. Nobody would send their forces into battle without any protection from bullets and shells. That would amount to certain death, so it would only benefit their enemy.

“My brother-in-law served in the Fourth Army,” several soldiers were gathered around a fire, and one of them animatedly told about the exploits of his wife’s brother. “What he said was that their weapons were sh*t. All they had to do was raise their shields and saunter forth. They drew their swords and that was that—no resistance!”

“So where is your brother-in-law now?” asked a listener.

“Hey, don’t interrupt me!” complained the speaker. “My brother-in-law said that he went up all by himself against fifteen aristocrats! In close combat!”

“Really?” gasped the listeners.

“You bet! And he cut them all down, and then he collected their weapons, artifacts and clothes. They say that the clothes of local lords are highly valued and are worth a lot of money,” he continued. “So just like that he was almost richer than a merchant!”

“So then what? Where is your brother-in-law now?” the same fighter narrowed his eyes, clearly doubting the speaker.

“Calm down, you!” again the speaker waved him off, and grabbing some meat from a skewer he shoved it into his mouth. “Then he went on and he found out why all of those earthling lords were hanging out together. It turned out that they were guarding twenty beauties!” By now more men had gathered around the fire, all of them listening to the story with bated breath.

“So what, is your brother-in-law now one of the richest men in the capital?”

“No, listen!” exclaimed the speaker, taking a swig from a bottle of beer that someone had given him. “He was on his way back to the portal, but then he ran into the troops of King Fok-Mon,” sighed the speaker. “And they took everything away from him. He barely escaped with his limbs intact...”

“What bastards!” the others commiserated with him, and handed the now dejected speaker another skewer of shashlik. Let him eat away his sadness.

“Yeah...” he said, “he ended up with a whole lot of nothing. Now what he plans on doing is coming back here to get himself some more slaves. And so why can’t we?”

“Yeahhhh!” the listeners shouted, and their fighting spirits rose to new heights.

The drunk officer listened to them, and then he chuckled and moved on. He’d already been in battles and knew what it was to face off against techno-weapons and aristocrats. He knew full well that the enemy wasn’t to be taken lightly, as much as the simple-minded fighters wished otherwise.

He himself was reminded of their might by a terrible scar across his belly. He’d been saved by a healing artifact and several Healers who’d come to his aid at the time. But who knew what fate had in store for him in the next encounter with the earthlings? Not that he feared death. Life was too short to live quaking in your boots. And it wasn’t easy to make a living back at home, so coming to this world, although risky business, was his only shot at a decent life.

“So you don’t believe him either?” he smiled, looking at a pigeon perched on the fence. He’d seen that same bird on a branch listening attentively to the tall tale woven by the speaker at the campfire.

“Coooo...” the bird shook his head and rose into the sky.

“Huh?” the officer was surprised and paused. “Er, I didn’t need to drink that last shot of vodka. What I do need is some fresh air.”

So he kept walking around, stopping to chat now and then with more soldiers he met along the way as he sobered up. And as dawn was breaking a couple of hours later, he went back to the castle and headed for the spacious hall where he heard the sounds of music and people having a good time.

Someone had found a techno-artifact that could reproduce local music, and it was placed where they could all hear it. So now nobody had to round up musicians to play for them while they were on drinking binges.

“Karl!” said a friend of his, “Where have you been? This way! They found some wine!” He grabbed Karl’s arm and dragged him to a table. “Have a drink!! You only have one life to live!” And he poured him a generous mug of wine.

The men in the room were relaxing, celebrating their success, having fun. Of course, it was their king who’d started this invasion. He’d defeated the army of defenders, captured a major city and also taken hordes of local people prisoner.

Then, their lord, who’d sent the Sixth Regiment to this world, had become ever richer when they captured this castle. He’d actually quadrupled his wealth by selling most of the trophies he’d acquired. Both the people and the technology from this world were highly valued in their homeland. Of course, along with his wealth, his greed also had quadrupled.

He no longer gave much thought to his lands nor his people, and he ordered his men to seek out the most valuable targets and capture them and then haul it all to the portal. He didn’t care about losses and paid no attention to supply problems. With each new day the number of invaders from his world were flocking to this world. They accepted just about anyone who wanted to join the storm troopers and mining detachments, so there was never a shortage of manpower. Sure, most of them were doomed, but the lords, especially the king, really didn’t care.

And the king’s success did not go unnoticed. Just like anywhere else, news traveled quickly in their world, and so it wasn’t possible to hide it. At the very least rumors would spread, sooner or later, but the king was smart enough to not get in the way of his neighbors’ ambitions, and to not start any useless wars that might bite him in the rear. And thus, four other kingdoms were also sending their forces to this world, directly to the captured city. And for a certain fee, of course, and a small percentage of the trophies, he was aiding them. And so the officers had something to celebrate. They weren’t about to call quits to the party, which might be the last one in their lives.

“Ach!...Little bastard!” cursed a man looking upward. A stinking glob of something sticky had fallen on his head and he spotted a pigeon sitting on the chandelier. “I’m gonna...”

“Wait!” cried Karl, recognizing the pigeon he’d seen last night. But he couldn’t stop the offended man. The man grabbed an empty bottle and threw it at the bird. “What?” a deathly silence fell over the hall. They were all amazed.

The pigeon spread its wings, and extended two tiny, muscular claws from beneath his belly. He deftly caught the bottle, and then broke it across his head, sending the neck of the bottle at his assailant.

“Cooo!” he emitted what sounded like a battle cry and then, jumping down from the chandelier, he attacked the officer head on. Screams filled the hall as a fountain of blood spurted upward as the pigeon kept up the assault.

But before the suddenly sobered-up men could come to their comrade’s aid, explosions thundered outside the castle walls, and an alarm artifact went off throughout the castle and its surroundings.

“We’re under attack!” cried someone running into the hall. But by now they’d already figured that much out.

* * *

“It won’t hold up!”

“Yes it will!”

“No, it won’t! Willie said it won’t hold up!”

“Willie always says that!”

We were racing at top speed straight into the heart of the offworld camp while Belmore and Chernomor argued over whether our runic protection would hold up.

Willie actually asked me with tears in his eyes not to even activate it. To somehow go without it, because it wouldn’t survive even one blow. But I could tell that it was almost good to go and that if I directed energy into a certain runic ligature, then it should work out. Most likely, anyway. No, it wasn’t for sure.

But we were out of time, and so we had to deploy it in this little foray. We’d set off on this venture half an hour after I learned about this new opportunity to earn money. I took with me my powerful striking fist comprised of the best guards, the two Combat Suits, and, of course, my mages. Although this time I left the earth mages behind. They already had their hands full, yes.

But Willie’s fears were in vain, and Chernomor and Belmore wasted their time arguing about the artifact. After all, the offworlders didn’t even fire a shot.

The first to enter the battle were my enhanced war pigeons. They created real chaos in the camp, dropping hundreds of kilograms of explosives and reserve artifact bombs on the heads of the unprotected enemy who was caught off guard. They used up everything they had in their little ammo bags. They even used up all of their fecal acid. Once they’d unloaded a couple of shots, that’s it for them. To replenish their stock, they’d need to ingest more seeds and grain.

As we hovered around the fringes of the action, the castle and its surroundings were engulfed in flames. But the pigeons didn’t stop there. Once out of ammunition, they were still all gripped by uncontrollable rage, and thus they rushed into close combat, sowing chaos and panic in the enemy ranks.

“Oh these old bones...” groaned one of the old codgers as he jumped out of the plane.

“Time to respect old age!” another grumbled jumping out after him.

Hey you two softies! I’m at least a couple of hundred years older than you, if not more!

The only reason they were complaining was that we couldn’t land the plane, so they had to jump out as it hovered above the ground. But I knew they could take it. I didn’t allow weaklings into the ranks of my elite fighters... no. Just don’t get hurt, you oldsters!

*Crack!*

“A-a-a! My leg! Didn’t I tell you? These bones of mine are old! Owie!” Oh, well, I was here to take care of any injuries--three of them broke their legs in the jump and one ended up injuring his spine. But I had them on their feet in no time. And off we went, rushing into battle.

By then, our Defender had already managed to bust through a large cluster of offworlders, and now they were all splayed out on the ground, groaning. All I had to do was stroll over to them and help them pass out. The plan was to treat them later, but right now I simply didn’t want them to get in the way.

And instead of his cleaver, Chernomor was wielding a huge club today. He burst into groups of half-naked, sleepy fighters fleeing in panic and simply hit whatever he saw. The Combat Suits, in contrast, were making targeted strikes at any dangerous types they spotted as they flew over the battlefield. These were to be immediately eliminated.

“Plane up!” I heard Chernomor’s roar and noticed how several offworld officers had finished creating a shock spell and were now directing it at our means of transport.

The pilots heard the order and right away carried it out, causing all our other forces, including Belmore and a mountain of corpses, to simply spill out onto the ground. The Necromancer, of course, managed to get himself together in time to ensure his safe landing in the hands of his trustworthy skeletons. Not that landing on bones was all that fun.

“Fire!” roared the offworld commander, and they launched a sparkling ball at the plane. They were shooting ahead of the curve, so anyway they might well hit it. But just then another target appeared in the ball’s path.

“I must defend!” cried Nur-gal, who soared into the sky to block the path of the glittering projectile with his shields.

An explosion ensued and Nur-gal was sent flying into the forest and then, for whatever reason, a modest blaze flared up where he must have landed. The officer mages cursed my Defender, except for one who was clearly ecstatic that he’d at least been taken out. Or so he thought, because just then Nur-gal dashed out of the forest. But now he was no longer smiling, which surprised me. I thought that he always smiled. But no, after suffering the blow of such a spell, even an inveterate Defender like him could morph into an evil Attacker, if only momentarily.

He rushed at the offworld enemy officers, but I beat him to it. Imbuing my blade with vital energy, I struck the senior officer, knocking him to the ground and rendering him unconscious. No, I didn’t kill him. How to kill someone knowing that he was worth even more than a thousand rubles? He might be worth an entire detachment of offworlders, so I needed him alive.

“You can’t kill us!” one snarled as he unsheathed his sword.

“I don’t want to kill you!” I laughed as I activated a bright flash that made them all briefly shield their eyes.

All I needed was a second to act. That’s all it took for me to strike four more of them, destroying their personal shields and protective artifacts and rendering them unconscious. I attacked two others with my blood magic. I created crystals that pierced the enemy in such a way as to cause blood clots. Once they passed out I quickly did what I needed to ensure that they wouldn’t die.

Hundreds of corpses ran around the camp, but to the surprise and horror of the enemy, they did not kill anyone, rather they sought to take them alive. They’d fall upon them, tie them up, and drag them over to a pile of other prisoners, and Nur-gal did his best to not crush skulls as he landed blows. True, he didn’t always succeed; sometimes he came across particularly fragile offworlders.

I also struggled to stop myself from employing lethal magic so that my victims would simply fall asleep or lose consciousness. Really, why did I ever have to be so angry as to kill any of these guys? Ah, because until now nobody was willing to pay me to not kill them.

My guards were more of a backup. But they, too, sometimes shot at what they considered to be particularly dangerous targets. They shot mainly at the limbs, but often they had to break through the enemy’s artifact protection and personal shields with a barrage of bullets.

And Chernomor with his club, yeah. I don’t know how many offworld bones he broke already, but looking at his satisfied grin, I could assume it was a lot.

It took us a total of ten minutes to take the castle. The enemy was caught off guard big time. They never expected a surprise attack like this. There had been no planes flying over Severodvinsk. No ships could sail into the city from the sea, as all of the systems were shut down. And because the castle was sixty kilometers from the front line, they didn’t think that anyone would target them. Perhaps a small sabotage group, nothing more.

However, we, too, were a small group. But we were a powerful coterie of adversaries to them, and that is why we triumphed. I hadn’t brought Mira along, having forgotten all about her. Nor did she offer to come along. She’d started watching some television series and couldn’t tear herself away from the screen. She was hooked on it the moment she started watching it around a week ago.

From the pigeons’ reports I knew that a cart full of artifacts had never arrived at this camp. This was, of course, too bad, but just the same there were plenty of other trophies to be found. In particular, magic projectiles for ballistas, and the ballistas themselves. I saw for myself how effective they were at penetrating tank armor. Sometimes they could even fly further to strike down infantry.

Right away we loaded the most valuable trophies into the bottomless pit of the plane’s hold. We also fit our offworld prisoners into the hold. We stacked them on top of each other because the pilot was complaining that his plane wasn’t made of rubber. But he always whined about the load whenever we were about to take off, even when it didn’t exceed the capacity, and yet the plane always made it into the air.

“That’s it! No more room, sir!” the pilot said with a pleading look as he starting closing the hatch, but I again surveyed the battlefield.

“Don’t be in such a hurry! What if we forget something?”

“Sir!!!” he said, “No more! We can’t! It won’t fit! We won’t get off the ground!”

“So lifting off, is that the hardest thing? If we manage that, can we make it to the castle?” I asked, smiling now.

“Well, theoretically…” he mused, but then fear appeared in his eyes. “No! No, sir!”

Too late. Yes, too late. I’d just spotted what we’d failed to load onto the plane.

“Belmore! Have your skeletons load the catapults!” I yelled to my Necromancer, and he did as ordered.

“Those things are made of stone!” sobbed the pilot, “They’re heavy!”

“And worth oh so much,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry. Those skeletons will also get us off the ground. And if we ask them really hard, they might even fling us up even higher.”

* * *

“Tamara,” a plump woman nodded at her coworker at the next desk. “Tamara...”

“What is it, Natasha?” responded the coworker, also middle-aged, in a disgruntled tone, “I was almost asleep!”

“I know! Why are we even sitting here?”

They were each sitting at a desk looking at the closed front door. It was that very day that this office had opened. It was the new Imperial service for receiving captured offworlders.

This was the office that handled the registration process for the offworlders, along with that of the persons who them captive. Then, the prisoners were to be sent off to be examined and scanned for any possible diseases, after which they were to be sorted into groups, depending on their value. At that point, the total payment would be determined. And after that, the offworld prisoners would be loaded into trucks and buses, all bearing the Imperial coat of arms, to be transported to wherever. No one dared ask what their final destination was. The emperor discouraged anyone from digging into the details.

“We’re just sitting here,” Tamara muttered. “Well, at least we’re getting paid for this.”

“But what’s the point? Nobody’s bringing anyone in today. This is a brand new program and who can capture offworlders and deliver them here so swiftly?” laughed Natasha. “Hey, maybe we should duck out for lunch?” It just so happened that their office was conveniently located in a downtown building. The Empire had taken over an administrative center, evicting the businesses that had been housed there.

“Hello, ladies!” Natasha and Tamara both were startled when the front door opened and a smiling young man appeared on the threshold. “Is this where I’m to deliver my prisoners?”

“Yes...” Tamara said uncertainly.

“Great!” he nodded. “Is this also where payment is rendered?” His smile was by now dazzling.

“Er, yes,” nodded Natasha.

“Well, then show me the money,” he entered, and behind him, dejected men in clothes with patches depicting the Bulatov coats of arms began to file into the cramped room. But that wasn’t all. Their skin also bore small imprints depicting the Bulatov coat of arms. They could see it on each man’s forehead, chest, and arms and legs. It was as if someone had pressed the Family ring on their skin. But of course, these imprints had been put on them by Mikhail and he’d ensured it was painless. It was like a rash, but not one that itched. At least nobody would wonder who it was who’d delivered these prisoners to their office. “Oh, by the way…” he looked around, “Why is there so little space here?”

“How many prisoners do you have?” asked Tamara in surprise, assuming he might have ten or even twenty of them.

“About five hundred,” Bulatov spread his hands and sat down on one of the chairs. “Well? Shall we get started? You see, there are more offworlders out there for me to capture.”

Chapter 8

EASY MONEY, FOR SURE. Especially considering that I didn’t hand over all of the offworld prisoners. I kept the most valuable ones for myself.

However, this wasn’t just about the money, no. Right now, the Bulatov Family had a reputation problem, and I had to do something about it. And this kind of program provided a great opportunity to buff up the Bulatov name. This had to be done to restore the Family’s former glory, and more! Indeed, it wasn’t good optics heading what in the eyes of the aristocracy was a little-known, practically decimated Family. True, being underrated was useful in that our enemies routinely mistook us for weaklings and didn’t prepare adequately when launching attacks. But sooner or later they’d all catch on to my ruse. I couldn’t lead them on forever.

I enjoyed the astonishment of the ladies hired to register the prisoners. They sat there wide-eyed and gasping, and then they rushed to carry out their duties. Clearly nobody expected so many prisoners to be delivered, especially on day one, and on top of that, they lacked the facilities to contain them all.

Then they spent some time trying to find out where I’d found so many offworlders, and how I’d captured them, and so on. They even asked the offworlders themselves about it. Not that my prisoners were about to tell them. Firstly, most of them were rather bewildered, and secondly, I’d made a point of taking measures with the ones who did have their wits about them and knew a thing or two. I erased memories as needed, and ensured others knew that they’d be better off keeping certain details to themselves. Even if one or two felt like talking, nobody would believe them. Especially if they were to mention seeing a huge, four-armed man with shields, or aggressive pigeon warriors.

“We were just incredibly lucky,” I smiled. Actually, people all wanted to believe in luck, both good and bad. Surprising, that. But it was easier than acknowledging, for example, that you’d simply failed while your neighbor succeeded. Clearly he was just lucky, and you weren’t. Ha!

“I’d say so,” nodded the top manager of the program. It was an officer, and the only military man in the building. “But you weren’t able to reoccupy the area?”

“No, well, why push our luck?”

I was glad that I could attribute a lot of my success to Family secrets. Convenient, that. Too bad it wouldn’t work with the Imperial investigators. But since I hadn’t done anything illegal, I didn’t have to talk to them.

All I’d done was stumble across around five hundred unarmed offworld losers who’d simply surrendered. After that, all that remained was to load them into busses and take them away.

I thought about all this on my way home. Our column stretched for a hundred meters as we slowly made our way towards the castle. I stared out the window and wondered if it was really worth it to go through with my original plan?

In short, the goal was to swoop in and capture more prisoners than anyone else, turn them in to the Empire, and in addition to earning lots of money, I’d be one the recipients of that “best of” reward from the emperor. And then, during the presentation, maybe I could again arrange for some explosions right then, and again claim that Kurchatov was up to his same old tricks. Ha! Okay, better not repeat that trick. People might start to put two and two together.

In the end, I was paid six hundred thousand for the prisoners, and the funds were deposited into the Family account. True, we already had plenty of money, so it’s not like we really needed more.

Anyway, this wasn’t the time to capture anymore prisoners. On the way back from the battle, I didn’t like the performance of our protective runes. I’m talking about their ability to protect the aircraft’s systems from the wave magic employed by the offworlders. There was a reason Willson was sweating bullets before we’d left for the battle. The runes were, indeed, inadequate, so our chances of dropping like a stone from sky—along with all of our plunder and prisoners, were pretty great. And there was another factor in my decision to hold off on more prisoner hunts. I saw how the two women at the prisoner registration office looked at me. I’d better not give them too many prisoners at once, no. I could just picture it if next time I was to hand over several thousand rather than just five hundred. That would be a great way to be added to another list by the emperor.

I also thought about how I and the allies had driven the offworlders out of territory around Severodvinsk. Let them think that we rendered invaluable help to the Empire, but I didn’t agree. In my opinion we’d just come together, I and my allies, to waste time and a lot of money. And we’d subsequently forced the Imperial Forces to disperse their own efforts. In all likelihood the offworlders were going to take those lands back, but now they’d be soaked in the blood of the Empire’s soldiers. Of course, more of the offworlders would perish, but they were anyway expendable. The offworld powers didn’t care about losses, and were ready to throw countless people into the battle to enrich themselves and take over land out here.

And, in fact, they had an unending supply of cannon fodder. There was a reason I’d kept the most valuable captives for myself. I could extract a lot of valuable information from them, and I began interrogating them on the way back battle, such as it was. Apparently we could expect forces from their neighboring kingdoms to arrive soon, along with a flock of mercenaries. The king behind the big Interface that resulted in taking over Severodvinsk was ready to keep on going right to the end of the line. It was his big chance, and in his world, people’s lives were valued far lower than in this world.

Anyway, about the allies, the upshot was that we simply saw things differently, so I decided that I’d start forging my own path. Although perhaps they might opt to join me, who knows? I was going to primarily focus on hitting their facilities, supply lines, command centers and other strategic targets. My recent outing with the allies had been more of a test, really, which they’d passed. Of course, I’d had to spend a lot of energy on their fighters, who now and then had come close to departing for the next world, so to speak. I’d brought them back to life and ensured they could make it to the hospital, and this held me back from putting my all into the fighting.

But now, I’d be scaling up the size of our attacks. This was only natural, since I’d procured maps and twenty offworld commanders in that batch of prisoners I’d taken. And that sector I’d struck was now left without their command, and their army was now bereft of their supplies, and were without leadership, and that no doubt would do a number on their fighting spirit and offensive potential.

I was also gladdened by the fact that among our trophies was the army’s coffers. This amounted to three or four thousand gold coins which would make a nice addition to my offworld stash, and the chest itself was impressive. It was deep-forged iron, quite large, and protected by several layers of runes and artifacts designed to make it impregnable. It was so heavy that four Gifted soldiers had to use all they had to simply cart it around. The four thousand coins contained within the chest occupied barely a tenth of its capacity. And so chances were that if we’d waited a couple of weeks before attacking, it might have been full by then. As it was, the soldiers had recently been paid, and had swiftly spent their hard-earned wages. Perhaps they’d sent funds home, who knows?

Right now, my people were poring over the information that several compliant officers from the offworld army had provided, especially the maps. And I sure didn’t envy the men in charge of figuring them out. When I took a look at them my first impulse was to burn them. And it occurred to me to send the offworlders some maps of our own. Why not? They’d then use them to set targets, and we’d just swoop in --- easy picking!

I was so lost in thought that before I knew it we were back at the castle. We all dispersed, and the men all headed for their barracks still laughing about the look on the faces of the Imperial personnel when they saw all of our prisoners. I myself headed off the see Willie, the maker of our artifacts. If I wanted to continue capturing offworlders, I needed a reliable plane in terms of protection.

“Willie, good job! The protective shield functioned even better than expected,” I said. And this was true. I’d expected to have to use some of my energy to keep it going, or come up with another fix on the go. But in fact, Willie’s artifact shield was shaky, but in the end did the job.

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” muttered Willie. “But it’s taken such a beating that I’m not yet sure how to patch it up.”

“Then start all over again,” I said. Why not? “Should be easier the second time round to conjure something up.”

“Golly gee, I never thought of that,” Willie said sarcastically.

“I don’t know how you carried on without me. I have to tell you everything,” I sighed, shaking my head. “Okay, how much time do you need to provide the plane with a new shield?”

“At least four days!” said Willie right away, “More would be better.”

“Okay, you’ve got two days, then,” I said, scratching my chin.

“No! That’s not enough!”

“Do you have enough materials?” I said, ignoring his outbursts.

“About that. Like I said, I need a lot of gold, silver, and even platinum!” said Willie with a malicious smile. He assumed I’d be sorry to use up precious metals.

“Take as much as you need. We have plenty of all of the above,” I smiled. “Oh, and by the way, can you install guns on the plane? Artifact or normal, it doesn’t matter.”

“If I do that it might cause the plane to plunge to the ground. I’ve already carried out experiments, and when a shot is fired, it creates interference that weakens the artifact shield,” he spread his hands. “Anyway, I’m working on it, but thus far haven’t come up with a solution. I’m myself interested in this, so I’m doing what I can to find a fix.” He paused then, and, thinking aloud, he said, “It’s not like that plane is technological wonder. What it is now is more like a techno-magical wonder, because I’ve incorporated a variety of artifacts throughout its systems. This includes the runes engraved all over the plane’s body, and replacements made to the wiring; I’ve also installed new energy conductor circuits.”

Yes, Willson had, in fact, done a fine job thus far, but just the same more needed to be done.

“Well, surely we can find a way to speed things up?” I said this knowing the effect it would have. The look on his face was always priceless when I urged him to work faster. The thing is that Willson truly did think he was working as fast as he possibly could. If he only knew how much I could speed up his thought processes. Only then would he really be reaching his limit, although he might also be driven mad by it all.

“So you’re still not satisfied?” he asked, clearly upset.

“No, of course I am! You’re doing great!” I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But yes, you could work faster”

“Say what?! Look! Just look at that!!” howled Willie, pointing at a hefty stack of books on the table. “Do you see? Those books are all about your damn electronics! I’m trying, I really am! But do you have to make so many demands at once? How can I make sense of all this?”

Okay, clearly we were at odds on this. If I didn’t get out of here then Willie would again fall into hysterics. He might, say, begin shooting at his artifacts or something. Usually, our artifact maker was rather a recluse, but a peaceful guy. He liked sitting around in his workshop, shut up in his tower, keeping to himself. And he was happy then, whistling, even if he was working on a troublesome project resulting in three hours of work exploding in his face. He took that kind of thing in stride.

But whenever Willie got mad, well...It was best that I not rile him up. He’d lose it if I did. Once when I pushed him over the edge with my jokes he ended up destroying a roomful of artifacts that had taken him a week to create. That’s what it took to calm him down. But then, I sent him a new order that was twice the size of the one before that, and what ensued was serious insomnia.

I made my way around the castle and spent a little time observing the guards as they went through their training drills. I actually felt a little sorry for the new recruits. Little did they know what they were in for. They expected the usual drills, morning exercises to stay fit, maybe once a week a little shooting practice.

Yeah, right. Now, every day began with a slug fest. No pulling punches, either. This would be followed by a quick trip to the infirmary, breakfast, and then target practice. Against each other. Then, again the infirmary, and the next workout. And in the evening were classes, and then the next morning the same routine all over again. But this hardcore regiment was just for the newbies. The more experienced guardsmen, well, they were sent out on missions on a daily basis that would likely result in wounds. They had offworlders to fight, sabotage missions, and the ubiquitous encounters with our hostile neighbors. We kept them busy to keep them in shape, and our neighbors probably did likewise with their guard.

“Don’t take them to the infirmary!” I stopped a group of recruits who were carrying three injured soldiers out on stretchers. I ran my hand over each of them, and right away their wounds began healing. “Get back out there! Keep on with your training!”

Hearing this, their faces fell. But hey, at least they weren’t injured. I kept them healthy, yes. And in battle no soldier would fear the enemy if his commander was a hundred times more intimidating than whoever they were up against.

My phone rang and I was taken aback seeing that it was Giovanni calling. I never thought that they would be done so quickly.

“You can come check out our work,” he said, yawning. “Only hurry...we’re all ready to fall asleep out here.”

I said nothing, but simply strolled over to the meet-up. It wasn’t far from the castle as they’d been working on creating our industrial village. It would include a factory, warehouses...hangars...Actually, we hadn’t yet decided what kind of factory to place here.

I saw that the housing complexes weren’t yet completed. Foundations had been dug, and I saw a pit, too, and yes, some unfinished floors had gone up. But what this so-called industrial village showed me was how scattered my earth mages were between all their projects. I’d canceled some of their tasks, postponed others, given them new assignments. After all, I needed some things done right away while others could wait, and yes, there were constructions that should’ve gone up yesterday. Not to mention that we sometimes ran out of materials for our builds. Yes, our flow of supplies was better now than ever before, but it still wasn’t good enough for our production needs.

In another half hour I reached the new industrial village. I saw a big new three-story building surrounded by a low wall with turrets. I had to admit that Ludwig had worked hard to create something truly beautiful. It actually looked a bit like a miniature version of a king’s castle in my old world. It had graceful lines, fine detailing, mosaics on the walls, tall turrets with spires, and panoramic windows. This mansion, or, yes, let’s call it a castle, stood out among the other buildings, and invariably drew the eye.

“Here you go! Job done.” Toren said with no enthusiasm, and then he took a swig of wine.

“Why are there all three of you here? Who is moving the wall? What, have you left everything to the apprentices again?” I asked. I liked the idea of capturing enemy lands by moving the wall, but we had to keep at it every day.

“We moved it this morning,” Giovanni sighed and sat down on a boulder, “If it wasn’t for this beauty,” he pointed to the helicopter that stood on the roof of the new building, “I have no idea how we’d manage.”

Indeed, that’s exactly why I’d given them a helicopter. Along with a pilot. Maybe not the most experienced pilot, but he needed the flying practice.

I went inside the little castle and checked out the interior. What to say? It was still unfurnished, but I could already imagine what would go where. A painting would be hung in that niche in the wall, and there on a ledge would be a statue. I saw the tunnels for the wiring, and the ventilation system was also well thought out. My mages had even come up with a plumbing system. Stone toilets, sinks, showers, and even pipes.

“At first we wanted to make, as you said, iron pipes...” Ludwig tore off the casing and showed me. “But stone is more reliable, really. So what you see here will last the ages; it will never rust,” he said, putting the casing back in place, and then he merged it all into one block of stone.

“Well done! I commend you!” I said as we all walked outside again, and I looked at all three of them. They were all tired, but smiling, and muttered something back. “No, really. I’m impressed! In two weeks you’ve constructed an entire school!”

“Yes, well, it was a lot of work!” the clearly exhausted mages mumbled.

“And do you know what?” I said, “You...and you,” I pointed at Giovanni and Toren. “Yes, you two. You get two days off!”

“What?” Toren said, lowering his bottle and staring first at me and then at Giovanni. “What did you say?”

“I think I remember what a day off is...” Giovanni said, snapping his finger as if trying to conjure up what that was. “Day off...hmmm...it’s been so long...I can’t recall...”

“Is this for real?” Toren looked at me again, and I nodded. “So what, you’re not sending us off to fight? What’s the catch? We’ll have two days off but will anyway have to work?”

“Do whatever you want,” I shrugged. “Two days are entirely at your disposal. You can work if you want, you can opt not to work. Whatever!”

“What about me?” shouted Ludwig, stunned.

“You’re doing great,” I shrugged, “So why should you have any time off?”

“What do you mean?” Ludwig protested. “I’m also tired!”

“You’re pretending,” I said with a dismissive gesture.

“So how are we doing?” asked Giovanni.

“You two are on the verge of burnout,” I said.

“But we feel good,” Giovanni and Toren exchanged glances.

“Is that right?” I waved my hand and they both dropped to the ground. “You do?”

“Hey! What did you do to them?” Ludwig shouted and ran up to his comrades. “They’re hardly breathing!”

“I didn’t do anything. I simply withdrew my power supply. Without my magic this is what they’re like,” I smiled and called a couple of nearby guardsmen over.

“Monster...” Ludwig shook his head.

“Not a monster, but a teacher,” I corrected him. “What I do is keep you all from dying due to exhaustion and burnout. But being on the brink of death is the only thing that enables mages to develop and improve,” I said, raising a finger as I uttered this well-known adage. Or perhaps it wasn’t an adage known to all?

“Water…” Toren croaked. Indeed, his condition was serious. Even when he felt ill he always wanted more wine.

“You’ll give them some strength again, won’t you?” Ludwig said, extracting a flask and giving it to Toren. “They might die right here and now!”

“Why give them more energy? They’re about to take two days off,” I said. By then the guards were there, and I had them carry Giovanni and Toren to the infirmary. “They get a full day to sleep and recuperate right now. While you get to work some more.”

At this, Ludwig sighed and went back to the construction site. I headed back to the castle, but on the way I called Roman up.

“They’ll be bringing you two patients right now. Put them in the font and keep an eye on them; make sure there are always guards next to them,” I said, and paused in thought. “Tomorrow, pull them out of the font and make sure they walk about on their own two feet.”

“And how do I go about doing that?” asked Roman.

“Well, think about it!” I smiled. “Just make sure that they don’t lie around tomorrow. They should move about somehow. Come up with a fun way to inspire them to engage in active movement.”

“Like what?!”

“I don’t know. Maybe a hole digging competition or something,” I shrugged and hung up.

Then I strolled around some more, looked at the castle’s majestic edifice, Mira’s unfinished tower, and our other tower fashioned from black obsidian. I even went inside and saw how our Lich was doing. He wasn’t fully developed, but he was managing just fine. Should any kind of non-magical combat machinery fly our way, the Lich would immediately activate suppression waves to force whatever it is to the ground, and then we’d take it as compensation for disturbing the peace. What a pity, though, that the Lich was such a weak one. Because of this, its range left a lot to be desired.

“Mikhail! There you are!” An upset Vika met me in the front door to the castle. “I’ve killed my mentor!”

“Congratulations!” I nodded at her, “You’ve grown up, become stronger, or something,” I patted her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Good going!”

“No!” she protested, “I really did kill him!”

I ended up having to go with her to find out what was up. They’d been practicing necromancy in a subterranean room near the walk-in freezers. This gave them easy access to corpses. And also they weren’t likely to scare anyone since, after all, necromancy was a kind of magic that, well, gave people nightmares.

There was Belmore. I could tell that he wasn’t really dead when I generated a runic ligature to scan him. His heartbeat was arrhythmic, but still, just the same it was, well, beating. As for any other issues, I could easily make them right, no problem.

This I did, and Belmore sat up, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. He was staring into nothingness and looked dazed. Poor guy didn’t get it, what a blow to his ego, and now how was he to go on after such humiliation--whatever.

“A mistake...” he said quietly, continuing to rock back and forth. “Mistake...She found a mistake in my drawings...A mistake...”

“What’s this about?” I asked Vika, nodding at Belmore.

“He showed me a drawing, but I thought that one of the lines was wrong, it was curved. And I fixed it,” she shrugged, looking innocently at me. “And then he realized that this spell he’d been using had been off-kilter for forty years. And then he sat down like this hugging his knees and then he passed out, and he’s been messed up for two hours now. He’ll be okay, won’t he?” she said, tugging at my sleeve.

“I lost another fighter…” I sighed.

“Is it really that bad?” Vika exclaimed, really worried now.

“You brought him to the brink,” I said, walking up to Belmore and running my hand over him. “Okay, men,” I addressed my guards. I’d brought them along in case something heavy had to be lugged around. “Pick him up and take him...”

“Does he need to be put in the font, too?” Roman, too, had followed us down here and was staring at the Necromancer.

“No, give this one some chamomile tea and turn on some meditative music,” I watched as Belmore was placed on a stretcher, and he kept repeating his mantra. “No!” Find a movie about black magic for him to watch.”

“No such thing,” Roman shook his head. “But there is a cartoon about it!”

“Then turn on the cartoon,” I waved my hand, “What he needs now is at least a dollop of self-affirmation and moral support.”

I studied Belmore’s drawing, which was still lying on the floor, and looked at the magic circle it depicted. I found a few more errors, actually. But of course I wasn’t going to talk about them. That way, if Belmore ever caused me another headache, I could tell Vika about them. And then she could point them out to him.

“A-a-a-a-aiiii!” I heard a furious scream outside and ran out to see what was going on. No one had raised the alarm, so I knew we weren’t under attack. But today I’d already seen a sharp decrease in a number of my strong fighters. Moreover, they’d been taken out on their own.

Once outside I saw some of my men gathering around Mira’s unfinished tower. The Defender, too, approached the scene, his shields all out.

Meanwhile, clots of death were sporadically bursting out of the tower. They were darting about seemingly randomly in all directions, and whenever they hit a shield they would then be sent to the ground and from there they’d fly upwards into the sky. Dark energy was bursting out of the windows, and spreading across the ground, and also rising in billowing black clouds, forcing the guard to keep their distance or take shelter.

You’ve got to be kidding. I ran closer to the tower and was rewarded with a clot of death in the face. But I just brushed it away and dispersed it with a shot of vital energy.

“What’s going on in there, anyway?” I asked Chernomor, who’d joined me with a shield that had once been the hood of an armored car. Did I need to give him a real sheild, or what?

“Who knows? It just started happening and no one can get close!” he growled and then he was blasted by another wave of death.

“Go, get out of here,” I said, right away knocking the necrotics out of him. “Don’t get in my way.”

I ran to the entrance, burning away the power of death along the way, and then I went into Mira’s room. I found her levitating a bit above the ground. Her pitch black eyes were glued to the screen, her hands were enveloped in black flames, and dark power was bursting from her chest and filling the room.

“How dare he?” she screeched, as yet another wave of death burst from her. “Bastard!”

What, was she really in love? But how? Who? When?

“Unfaithful jerk!” she snarled, “How dare you? I’ll destroy you! I’ll burn you alive! I’ll never forget your face!”

Strange, because she never left her tower. All she did was sit in front of the television self-administering beauty treatments.

“How, oh how could you cheat on Rose with that slut? How?” Before yet another burst of lethal energy escaped from the room I quickly conjured up a restraining spell. “I’ll burn you to ashes! I’ll destroy you!” And then, noticing me, she said, “Oh, I was watching the telly...”

Clearly, and it was one of those never-ending soap operas. “Does she, too, need my help?” asked Roman, who just walked in now that no more death clots could escape. By now he’d made that chamomile tea for Belmore and poured some for himself. He was sipping it from a big mug as he looked at the enraged Mira from behind my back.

“This isn’t curable,” I shook my head.” Let’s get out of here... In the next episode, Rosa will try to punish Pedro by running off with Juan.”

“How do you know?” asked Roman.

“Don’t look at me like that!” I was a little aghast at his assumption. “It’s not rocket science, a plot like this!”

After generating a protective circuit around the tower I stationed a few guardsmen there and then headed for my study. I sure did hope that nobody else broke down today. It would be a gift to anyone who should try to attack me. But no, by now they’d learned from bitter experience and so I didn’t have to worry about surprise attacks.

And that is why I was focusing right now on developing my estate. Or course, this was part of my plan to restore the Bulatovs’ fame. So I called Chernomor, Vika, Georgy, Willie, Peter the Great, and even our quartermaster Timothy into my study. What can I say? I had to call Kooky in, too.

“We have urgent business,” I began, and for some reason they laughed, “What? What’s so funny?”

“Do you ever have business that’s not urgent?” Vika took a seat on the sofa, ready to hear what I had to say. “Well, okay, what’s so important?”

“Our school has been built.”

“So what now?” she asked, clearly at a loss about what was so urgent. “The school year just ended.”

“What’s that? A year is a year,” I said, although I was aware of the concept of vacation in this world. Vacation, well, we didn’t have that kind of thing in my old world. To us, studying was a pleasure, so who needed a break from it? “But that doesn’t matter,” I said with a wave, “Our school can accommodate two thousand students, which is a lot, but I deliberately made sure it was expandable. So we can, in future, teach up to ten thousand youngsters, as we have the space for several more buildings.”“

“You clearly don’t like to waste time,” Chernomor boomed.

“Our first order of business is to create separate dormitories for students of various ages. We need to install high-quality furniture from offworld wood, and buy bedding and so on. The school is for us, our own children will study there, so everything needs to be done well,” I said, noticing how Vika suddenly blushed. “I mean the children who live here on our lands,” and at this the blush quickly passed.

“Do you think that this will be a money-making operation?” asked Georgy. “You see, education is a realm in which many teachers go back several generations.”

“Our school will be free!” I announced. “And we shall provide the students with everything they need. Food, comfortable housing... Willie, here is a full list for you of the artifacts we’ll need,” I said, and to my surprise, he didn’t raise a fuss, but simply nodded.

“I’ll use my source to make a temperature regulator for the building. I really admire the air conditioners here,” he said thoughtfully.

But of course it would be cheaper to simply purchase equipment. That’s what I planned on doing, but over time we’d gradually duplicate technological systems by using artifact-based equivalents. This included refrigerators, heaters, pumps, lights. Really, what if the electricity was to suddenly go out? Far better to be off-grid, yes.

“Timothy!” I turned next to my quartermaster. “You select paintings, decor, that kind of thing.”

“How about we do it together?” he suggested, but I shook my head.

“Go visit the school yourself, and see what would work there,” I said. I didn’t have the time for this, and it’s not like it was a difficult assignment. “And in a pinch you can tell Ludwig which statues to put where; he can handle it.”

“Mikhail, I get what you’re doing,” Chernomor said, “But why such extravagance? It’s just a school; we’ll be teaching children; no big deal.”

“Just a school? How else can children be taught to strive for greatness and beauty?” I was rather aghast at Chernomor’s attitude. “Children will be inspired to achieve a better life, and they’ll be upright human beings devoted to the Family, ready to serve us well.”

I turned then to both Georgy and Chernomor. I tasked them with finding good teachers, administrators, and to take control of the security situation. This would include an air defense system.

“Can I ask a question?” asked Chernomor, actually raising his hand. “If we don’t yet have an air defense system, what then?”

“We’ll have to buy one,” I shrugged. “We can afford it. And if they won’t sell us one, we can procure one as a trophy.”

I had Willson focus on creating more defense artifacts. Some were needed to strengthen the wall, not that they weren’t strong already. My mages had done their best, and so not even a direct hit from an artillery shell would result in anything more than a small crack in a wall. And I also wanted to incorporate defense artifacts in the classrooms. If an attack was to occur, we’d pass them out to the children and send them down to a bunker. Safety first, yes.

“Georgy, you can use our plane for purchases...”

“Sorry,” Willie interrupted me. “It’s being repaired...”

“Check with Willson if you want to use it,” I nodded to him. “If it’s not available, just use the cargo helicopters. I’ll make sure the pilots know our arrangements,” I said, thinking about it. “Speaking of!” I added, “Why is my new combat assault plane still grounded?”

“We don’t have any specialists,” Chernomor spread his hands, and I sighed heavily. “What can I do?” he was a little confounded, “Hire them? Kidnap them? Take them prisoner?”

“I’m glad you understand what I want,” I smiled.

“I was joking!”

“Maybe so, but I wasn’t!” I shrugged. “So get to it.”

“By the way, we need janitors too,” Vika remembered, and I shook my head.

“Not too many. We can have the children help out. They should get used to cleaning up after themselves. Willie, I see you agree?”

“Yes, we were taught that the workplace should always be in order,” he nodded. “Once you finish the job you have to put the tools and chemicals back in place so you always know where they are. Otherwise the next person could get hurt. Or else they won’t be able to find what they need.”

Georgy sat there all of this time staring at the wall, now and then bending one finger after another. It looked like he was trying to calculate how much we needed of what and how many trips to other cities needed to be make. Take sheets, for example. We needed enough to have extra sets, just in case.

And we also needed to think about how to feed the students. Someone suggested that the parents should be responsible for their offspring’s food, but I rejected that notion. Firstly, not everyone has parents, and secondly, I wanted the parents to themselves want their children to go to school. Thus, we should feed them, dress them, give them shoes.

“By the way, you’re designing a school uniform,” I pointed at Vika, who almost jumped up from her seat in joy. “One for up to the seventh grade, another for the remainder of the grades, and make it something the students will like.”

“I already know what would work!” she said, clapping her hands. “I’ll have them wear cassocks!”

“And?” I didn’t get it,

“What else?” Willie, too, was at a loss. But the others nodded approvingly.

“Cassocka are classy!” exclaimed Vika. “And back in the day, that’s what aristocrats would wear on a daily basis. And the color of their cassock indicated their societal status.”

“A factory...We need to find a factory...” Georgy was still making calculations and looking grimmer with each minute. “We need a factory that makes linen sheets.”

“By the way, there are some good factories in Ivanovo,” Vika recalled.

“Great idea!” Georgy exclaimed. “I’ll fly there first!” he stood up, but then he suddenly frowned again. “But we also need dishes...”

“Okay. So we need to compile lists of students and teachers and such,” I said. “The most important thing is to find people. Chernomor, Georgy, Vika, I tap you for this.”

“I can ask around; I know about twenty people,” Georgy said. “I know several old ladies, but you’ll have to heal them. They’d be good teachers. I also know some who are already teachers, and they have health issues and financial problems...”

“Yes, I forgot to tell you,” I suddenly remembered. “These people will live with us, and they’ll have to sign on for twenty- year terms.”

“That’s harsh,” boomed Chernomor.

“Yes, but it is what it is,” I said, throwing up my hands. Teachers were extremely important members of society. And the education system I envisioned would be different from what was standard practice here and I didn’t want to look for new teachers all the time. After all, I’d have to train them.

“By the way,” Chernomor said thoughtfully. “You might want to contact the veterans association. We can find the sort of people who were trained to protect important facilities. And they might also know a thing or two about teaching.”

“Yes, they could, say, teach martial arts,” I agreed with him. “Good idea. Do it.”

“Right, really, in principle this plan for a school is good,” said Victoria, smiling, “but now we’re doomed for sure.”

“But why? We’re not doing anything bad, after all,” this time I really didn’t understand what anyone would have against me.

“Well, I’m thinking that half of the academies will be out to get us,” she laughed. “If only because they won’t be able to compete with us.”

“Why not? Why are we talking in riddles?” I looked at the others, but they apparently understood what she was saying.

“They don’t have free education! For example, on average, students pay off their debts only ten years after receiving their diploma,” said Vika looking at Georgy, who nodded.

Ah, I got it. Studying was a costly money-maker in this world.

“Well, let them have a go at us,” I shrugged. “We’ll show the students how to properly eliminate hired killers,” I chuckled now, but for some reason the others weren’t in the mood for laughing. Was my laughter the scary kind?

* * *

Some time later

Arkhangelsk radio station.

“Time for a short commercial break,” a plump DJ spoke into the microphone. “Just a few minutes ago I learned of a great opportunity for educational professionals! Who among you is a scholar and wants a fair wage for your hard work? Pavel, tell us more! I’m sure the listeners will be very interested in this amazing opportunity!”

“That’s right, Maria,” said a middle-aged man leaning into his own microphone. “Count and Countess Bulatov have informed us that they’ll be opening a new school! And they’re currently recruiting the staff, including teachers and administrators. Count Bulatov is offering good wages. And a count’s word, you know yourself, is worth a lot,” he turned off the microphone to snort at that. “But anyone hired on will have to sign a contract committing to twenty years, and they’ll be housed on the Bulatovs’ estate.”

“Oh, well that’s rather, well, unusual,” said Maria. “Who ever heard of conditions like that?”

“Well, wait a minute, Maria. The terms and conditions state that they can move into quarters along with their family. And not only will the teachers be given housing, but the children, even if there are thirty-seven of them...”

“Pavel, that must be a typo...” Maria cut in.

“No, that’s the number!” he said, “Even if they have thirty-seven children, they can all enroll in the school free of charge!”

“What? That’s crazy!” exclaimed Maria.

“And that’s not all! The school will teach children from elementary through high school. A range of specialized subjects will be taught, with lots of extracurricular opportunities,” said Pavel, sounding impressed.

“Looks like the Bulatovs are out to compete with the Sviridov Family’s Arkhangelsk Scientific Institute, eh?” said Maria.

“I don’t know, but all of this is fascinating stuff! What do you think, listeners?” Pavel appealed to the audience. “Call us at Arkhangelsk Radio and let us know! And now, don’t touch that dial! Coming up next is the latest hit dropped by Babai, your favorite dubstep duo!”

* * *

Meanwhile...

The most ordinary apartment on the outskirts of Arkhangelsk

Vera Semyonovna Voshina and Gennady Romanovich Voshin had both been in a lousy mood lately. For three months now they hadn’t been paid. And the authorities were always making excuses, blaming it on the economy, on the military crises always underway, on the country as a whole.

But what did they care about all that? They were teachers, just doing their jobs. And they had to feed their six children! So they were in dire straits and not happy about it. After all, they were teachers, and yet struggled to provide their children with a proper education. They couldn’t even send them to school when they had barely enough money for food. So they had to teach them in the evenings, after work, when they were dead-tired. It was exhausting, discouraging.

“Mom!” their five-year old came up and tugged her sleeve, “I’m hungry! When do we get to eat?”

“Soon, Kolenka,” she stroked his head, and turned to her husband saying “I’ll borrow some more from Anna next door,” Vera sighed. “Of course she got paid. She’s in administration, not teaching.”

“Okay, Vera. Oh, and let me work with the younger ones today, and you with the older,” Gennady suggested as his wife was leaving.

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a terrible headache,” Vera sighed and sat back down on a creaky chair, clutching her head. “What a lousy life, Gen... How can we go on like this?”

He sat next to her and hugged her; Vera was ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Let’s listen to the radio, shall we? “he suggested after she’d calmed down a little.

“Sure, why not?” she waved her hand, “As long as it still works. We haven’t paid our electric bill in two months!” Gennady walked up to the old receiver, turned the switches, and the announcer’s lively voice broke through the static white noise.

“ ...Count and Countess Bulatov announce their plans to open a school... “— the couple listened with bated breath, greedily absorbing every word, unable believe their ears.

All because how could this be true? They’d been down and out for so long now...

“Wait a minute,” Gennady sighed, “I heard about the Bulatovs. They’re at war with almost twenty Families at once.”

“So what?”- Vera said, smiling for the first time that day as she stood up. “Who cares? As long as we can finally make ends meet! Something needs to change!” she said, eyes flashing.

Right then, neither they nor Bulatov knew that the school had found its first highly qualified teachers. And little did anybody know that many other teachers throughout the city were struggling just like Gennady and Vera. They’d all fallen into the clutches of the Svidirovs, who really didn’t like to pay people for their hard, hard work. And it was Victoria’s idea to pay for a spot on the radio. Mikhail thought that it would be a waste of time and money.

Chapter 9

I WAS AWAKENED by a knock at the door. “Sir!!! There are people outside the castle gate to see you! Wake up!”

“Come in…” I groaned. But yeah, what a pleasant dream I’d been having. Geese... Lots of geese, and all mine. Okay, enough! What’s become of my dreams? Geese!?! But the more I thought about it, the more I was captivated by the thought of using geese for aerial transport. “Wait a minute,” I sat up and looked at the guard. “What kind of people? It’s six in the morning!”

“You’d better see for yourself...” he handed me a tablet that was broadcasting footage from our surveillance cameras. And yes, outside the castle was a throng of people. Adults, children, some toting luggage and sacks, others without. “I’m still unable to comprehend,” I said, conjuring a wave of invigorating energy for myself, and sending some to the guard, as well.

“Thanks,” he said with a little bow. “They’re teachers, Sir. They’re seeking employment.”

“And so what? They’re planning on moving right in on day one?” Seriously. What about a probationary period, paperwork? Incidentally, how about interviewing them first? It would seem that I’d failed to anticipate how screwed up the Empire’s educational system was.

“Ah, well. I guess they’re thinking about their children’s future,” I sighed as I got up and stretched. “For now let them in and tell them to wait. You can serve them some tea. I’ll be down soon.”

The guard rushed off and I quickly showered, had a bite to eat, poured myself a mug of aromatic tea, and then summoned Chernomor and Vika. She, too, had to be rudely awakened. She never got up this early because she usually worked late into the night. Chernomor, however, was already ready for action and sat down to have breakfast with me.

“What are we going to do?” he boomed taking a sip of tea and leaning back in his chair.

“We’ll have to provide them quarters!” I shrugged.

“Where, though? We have offworld migrants living amongst us.”

He was right. I’d totally forgotten about that.

“Well, we do have to resettle them. That shouldn’t be a problem.” Although, the way both Vika and Chernomor looked at me, I could tell they thought otherwise. “Okay, how many do we have out there?”

“A couple of hundred,” sighed Vika, “And we have no room for them in the villages, nor do we have the time to build new housing for them.”

“Our mages picked a fine time to take themselves out of action,” I sighed. “Okay, we’ll manage somehow. We have old villages, we can use them.”

“But the houses there are decrepit,” protested Vika, “I mean, compared to the new villages.”

“True, but anything would be an improvement over living in tents,” I said. “And soon, our mages will come back fresh and eager, ready to build us a couple of new villages.”

“So how much time do we have?” asked Chernomor, looking at his watch.

“No time, or twenty minutes,” I said, also looking at my watch, “Give or take a few.”

At this, Vika and Chernomor rushed out to rouse the offworlders sleeping in the tents, find a new place to settle them and find a way to transport them there without too much fanfare. Good thing we had an underground passage out of the castle that exited out the back. In a pinch we could even block that exit, and no hostile forces could make their way in, no matter how hard they tried. Now, though, I had to start the interview process. I had to conduct a lot of interviews, and also probe the mental makeup of each one of the candidates. I needed to determine their true intent, ensure that they weren’t here for nefarious purposes.

“Okay, let’s begin!” I stood near the gate looking around. Right, quite the view. There were all those tents set up near the wall, and as our offworlders had gathered their things together in a rush, some of their personal belongings were scattered about.

Just then the gate opened slightly, allowing people to file into the courtyard. I never expected so many of them, actually, nor the speed with which they responded to our recruiting efforts.

“Interviews will begin in about an hour,” I announced. “Meanwhile, make yourselves comfortable in the tents. And if you’re hungry, just let one of the guards know,” I said, more out of habit than anything else. I was quite used to having to feed the masses by now. And these teachers looked like they were, well, not much better off than the refugees.

None of them appeared to be impatient or put out, and they all simply settled down to wait. There were requests for food for the children as none of them had brought provisions along, not expecting to have to wait. By now my men had deployed a field kitchen from the hangar, and made tea, and this sufficed for the adults. All in all, they all seemed content to sit and chat with each other as we quickly prepared to interview them, having eliminated any traces of offworlders, and ensuring Nur-gal would stay out of sight. Incidentally, I needed to come up with a disguise for him.

And in about an hour, our plane roared overhead and set down in the courtyard. Yes, by then I was on board. Our hatch opened, and I emerged, and asked both the teachers and their children to come on in. They were all surprised as they’d heard that the school would be near the castle itself. They didn’t expect to have to fly there. But I calmed them down. I told them that for now I couldn’t provide them the details, but that this would speed up the hiring process.

Soon we were airborne and within two minutes we touched down on the landing pad. This was right inside the area of our future school. I’d decided that we should conduct the interviews here. Thus, they could behold the building, appreciate the scale, and fully understand that this was serious business.

“Oh my!...What a masterpiece of architecture!” exclaimed a lean man in glasses. He looked like he was ready to swoon.

“You haven’t even see the interior yet,” I smiled, but just then he really did pass out. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked the others, but they just shrugged.

“He’s a drama teacher,” someone said. “The kids just love him. But he’s had to work as a longshoreman at the port for the past five year.”

“Hah! He’s not the only one!” exclaimed someone else. “I’ve had to work as a grunt my own self!” He saw me looking at him and hastened to add, “Count Bulatov, don’t worry! I’m really a teacher! I used to teach astronomy, but you know yourself what we’ve been getting paid”

Hearing this, everybody sighed, while I simply stood there. Actually, I had no idea what their salaries were. How funny it would be if my wages turned out to be even worse.

“As for now, all of you who are teachers follow me inside. The rest of you wait out here,” I said, turning and heading into the building. Actually, we still hadn’t installed doors yet, but this would happen soon, in a few days. I had the offworld lumberjacks working on them and once they heard that they’d be for classrooms for children they promised me something special. Once we’d all gathered in an auditorium and they’d seated themselves, I asked the room at large, “Before we start, any questions? Now is the time to ask.”

“Yes! If I may, I would like to ask a question,” a woman of about forty with tousled short dark hair raised her hand. I nodded, and she said, “Will our children really get to attend the school for free?”

“But of course!” I said, not bothering to mention that none of the children would be paying for their education.

“Excuse me!” a man raised his hand as soon as the ensuing hubbub died down, “but is it safe to live around here?”

“Of course not,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m sure you’ve done your research about the Bulatov Family and understand that we’re at war with most of our neighbors and then some. But you don’t have to worry, the enemies don’t stand a chance,” I smiled, and the teachers all shuddered at once. Right, I guess my smile creeped them out...”Anyone who wants to can leave. We’ll provide you transportation back to your homes.”

Actually, I wondered how they got here in the first place. Did they travel by foot? As it turned out, they’d set off as soon as they’d heard that radio broadcast.

At any rate, nobody opted to leave. I was rather surprised at that. They all truly did understand who we were, and that we were in what some might call a precarious situation. But once they’d seen the majestic “castle school,” they knew once and for all that all of this was real. Clearly they’d been under the wrong impression about the Bulatovs and their achievements.

We passed out an application and forms for the teachers to fill out so that they might provide details about their past experience and so on. Besides their curriculum vitae, we needed to make sure that they could maintain confidentiality.

“Excuse me, but I have a question,” a young woman raised her hand. “Are you really a Healer?” I nodded, yes. “And is the countess really a Necromancer?”

“Yes, quite a strong one,” I nodded again. “And what that means is that she works with corpses, bones, dead flesh... You should know that she can also radiate death energy, raise the dead, and control them. Do you have an issue with this?” I smiled, noticing her sudden pallor.

“Um, well, is that offer to let us leave still open?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

“But of course. Leaving is an option until the contract has been signed,” I said, and several of them rose from their seats. “My men will show you to waiting room. You can rest there until we get transportation together for you. In the meanwhile, if you need anything, just let them know.”

In another half hour the ones who’d elected to remain were finished filling out the forms, and now I just had to sort through them to find who would suit our purposes and who was expendable. I expected to take on all sixty of the remaining contenders and then see who else might fit some specialized fields. Actually, who knew what kind of candidates had yet to show up? If I didn’t decide who to take on right here and now, then I’d have trouble moving forward with this project. And even when we opened up the school, how to really know what would be transpiring within the classrooms?

“Well, I’ve sorted through these papers,” I said, stacking them all up and handing them to a guardsman. “Take them to Vika and have her start checking them out,” I said, and turned to the roomful of teachers. “I’d like you all to form a line and one by one see me in the next room. I’ll be conducting a quick interview with each of you. It won’t take long.”

I wasn’t out to ask a lot of questions; rather I needed to scan each of them to determine what they were after. That being said, almost all of them were regular people without a notable Gift. They couldn’t lie to me even if they wanted to. And so I asked the usual questions, examined each one of them and soon was sure that none of them had come here to spy on us. And I was pleased at this, because our enemies had been making repeated efforts to insert undercover personnel onto our staff. All of them were shown the door, many with hemorrhoids, some who just itched all over, and one of them even had syphilis. Actually, he’d already had it when he showed up, but I’d opted to not treat him for it. All I’d done was make it impossible for him to pass it on to anyone else.

“Okay folks, now I have two options for you,” I said, entering the auditorium again. The teachers were all in groups heatedly discussing whatever, but as soon as I appeared they all fell silent. “You can either wait until tonight while we check all of your paperwork, or we can take you back to your residences where you can wait for us to contact you later this week.”

They all looked at each other and quietly conferred with their loved ones. In the end, they all wanted the same thing.

“If it’s all the same to you, Count Bulatov, we’d like to just wait here,” said a senior teacher, speaking for everyone.

Dammit it all, anyway! I’d given them two options, after all, but they’d all selected the one that was most inconvenient for us. It would have easier if we didn’t have to make all of the decisions right away. Ha! For the Bulatovs, it always had to be anything but calm and easy.

“Vika, I tried,” I said, throwing up my hands. “We have to get through their applications as fast as possible. They’ll all be waiting for the results tonight.” Vika gave me an exhausted look, and then simply plunged back into studying the documents.

“Seven mathematicians, several different language specialists, fifteen Russian language teachers, physics, chemistry, biology, two fencing instructors,” Victoria listed the subjects taught by our candidates a couple of hours later.

“Actually, this might suffice for now. But the classes will have to be combined, we have... Ahem... We have lots of children on our lands.”

I needed to do something about Vika’s blood vessels. Lately, her face would easily flush. Strange that, because I knew that her blood pressure was okay. Okay, I’ll carry out a full diagnostic later.

“Six of them, by the way, are terminally ill,” I noted. “I drew skulls on their applications.”

“Chernomor! Cancel the kill! Now!” Vika screamed into her phone. “They’re not spies after all! No need to eliminate them!”

“What do you mean, eliminate?” I asked, “There’s no need; none of them are spies. I checked them all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” Vika said, upset. “How was I supposed to know what those skulls meant?”

Yes, she did have a point. Not that a skull was an ambiguous symbol...

Then we went back and forth a bit arguing about how some of the subjects represented by our candidates were redundant. For example, why so many Russian language teachers? And in contrast, we’d need giant auditoriums for the physics classes. Meanwhile, for Russian the students could practically be taught one on one. Just the same, I wanted to hire all of them. The Russian teachers could also teach the offworlders, for example. And it wouldn’t hurt them to learn some basic science, either.

“Sorry that you had to wait so long,” I said, once again entering the auditorium full of teachers. By now they all were acquainted with each other, and it turned out that some of them had already worked together in the past. And so the atmosphere in the room was extremely congenial. Everyone was nostalgic over the good ole’ days and not happy about the current state of affairs. In effect, they’d all grown closer over the day. “I am pleased to say that we’re ready to offer each of you a contract. You’ve all successfully jumped through all of the hoops and I’d be honored to see you employed in our new school.”

At first everyone was silent, and then they all exploded in shouts of joy.

“But first, you must all take the time to carefully study the contract, and then sign it. Once you’ve signed on, there’s no going back, so don’t be hasty. Be sure of your decision.” At this, looks were exchanged, although they all remained in the room. Good, that; it meant that they trusted me.

My men passed the contracts out, and the teachers carefully pored over it, sometimes gasping at this or that item. But as I’d done what I could to scare them earlier, most had been expecting far worse conditions. So everyone signed the contract, and within about thirty minutes they were lying in a stack on my desk.

“So did any of you have serious reservations about signing?” I asked with a smile as I handed the stack to one of the men to deliver it to my study.

Twenty hands went up, albeit hesitantly. Excellent, I’d seen the doubts in their eyes.

“May I ask why?”

“I was confused by the clause that said no disputes with senior management were allowed,” said one of the young teachers. He was one of the fencers, if my memory served me right.

“For me, I was concerned about the issue of confidentiality and how my entire family could be punished should it be violated,” said a woman who was clearly nervous.

“Yes, that’s true,” I said. “But why do the rest of you have reservations?” I asked the others.

“The conditions are too good,” a short, stout man laughed. He was a shop instructor who’d be teaching carpentry and other construction skills. This was an important thing to teach, by the way. Having a broad education that covered all the bases was vital to get by in this world. I, for example, had never learned how to drive, and this was a major headache for me.

“What do you mean? What’s too good?”

“Full support? Food, shelter, clothing, educational materials—sounds too good to be true,” he chuckled. “On top of all of the above, you’re going to pay us a salary! Wow! Grants for advanced training, assistance in improving educational materials, and this is only part of the list!”

“I agree. I, too, was wondering why you’d be paying us,” laughed a Russian teacher. “We’re used to having to foot the bill for our housing and food and so on. We should be paying for ourselves, not to mention throwing in for the wellbeing of the Bulatov Family!”

“By the way, what can you tell me about how safe we’ll all be here? Just curious; I hope I’m not stepping over the line. I mean, you know what they say about Healers,” said the other fencer. He looked like he used to be a military man who’d turned to teaching after retiring from service.

“If you want, I can demonstrate,” I chuckled, and he nodded. “Let me remind you that you have already signed the contract. And therefore, everything that happens here should not go beyond these walls.”

Then I had Mira, Vika, and Belmore come into the room. They were all more or less back on their feet.

“Mira, activate your aura,” I said, and smiling, she did as requested and darkness poured out of her. Everyone screamed and backed up against the wall, although none of them left, as this was an interesting demonstration of power. “Vika, you too.”

She, too, emitted darkness, but it began to take upon bizarre shapes. Skulls and bony hands, and raging bestial faces. This riot of death magic soared to the ceiling and passed into the stone as several of the more sensitive teachers fell unconscious.

“Belmore,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, “your turn now. Show them what you can do.”

“But of course,” he grinned and in a flash a powerful wave of death force passed through the room, which then went dark. The only visible illumination was a barely discernible greenish barrier that protected the frightened teachers. Better to shield them then to have to cleanse them all from necrosis later.

Belmore was in his element, blanketed now in the force of death, black flames blazing in his eyes. Fissures began snaking through the walls of the auditorium as the stone started smoldering and turning to dust.

“Now...altogether, give it to me!” I said, and all three of them focused their energy into a single black beam that hit me in the back.

But I’d erected a barrier around myself and just stood there gazing out at the awestruck teachers. They were, as they say, astounded. After all, I was totally unruffled, and even felt like yawning.

Then I was hit by death spheres. Vika was really trying, and weaved a complex spell that generated a death puppet. This was a creature born of death magic and Necromancy, and I was surprised that she’d been able to master the spell. Belmore hadn’t been wasting any time, not hers, nor his. Well done! But this, too, was futile.

But how boring. I’d gone up against far more powerful Necromancers. Hordes of dead creatures crashed against my shields, but the death generating filth penetrated deep into the ground simply dissipated and burned away with one wave of my hand.

Yes, I was weaker than in my past life still, but this trio was weaker still. Okay, enough already. Boring stuff. And so I removed my protection and let the death magic hit me, and start destroying my body then and there. My flesh began rotting and exposing the bones, my skin was cracking, turning black and peeling off of me, and then, like a zombie, I began marching toward the by now petrified teachers.

“Oops, my liver,” I said as a lump fell out from right below my ribs, and I deftly put it back in place. Yes, I think this would do. Enough of a display for today.

I again waved my hand, sending a powerful wave of vital energy at the Necromancers that dispelled their spells. They didn’t expect that, and had no idea how I’d done it, so they stood there looking at me, clearly puzzled.

“Thank you, that’s enough,” I smiled. “You can go now.” And again I turned to the fencer who was worried about safety on my territory. In seconds, the green flashes covering my face restored my flesh and my new skin looked fabulous. My organs, too, began self-repairing; it was for me an automatic process. “So then, what do you think? Am I able to ensure the security around here?” I smiled at him. He was looking rather ghostly, actually. “What’s up with you, though? You’re looking rather grayish.”

“Um, well, yes, I...er,” he said, his teeth chattering. “C-c-c-can I ask another question?”

“Ask away!” I said, waving my hand.

“Why do you still have enemies out to get you? What, are they stupid?”

“So it seems,” I shrugged. “But this is, in fact, a Bulatov Family secret. It’s not something that they even know about.” And as I spoke, I ran my hands over the head of a woman who’d suddenly gone gray. Now she was again a vibrant brunette with a beautiful mane of hair. “I am here to fully support your work at our school, as it is greatly important not just for my Family, but for the whole world. But in return I will demand complete obedience, and this is not up for discussion. What I don’t want is for you to cause problems for no reason.”

At this, I was done with my demonstration and had spoken my words of wisdom. Now I needed to let everything sink in so that they might come to their senses. Actually, I didn’t know what got to them more, the Necromancers, or my healing abilities. But then, why should anyone be afraid of powerful healing?

After that, I made my way to our command center where Chernomor and our analyst Peter the Great were discussing our latest plans for attacking and capturing offworlders. We could not only cash in on bringing more prisoners to the Empire, we could also raid their storehouses and scoop up lots of valuable artifacts. And their supply columns were a real gift. They could provide both lots of people, and also some great loot.

Vika wasn’t part of this latest plan. She would again have to work into the wee hours to register the teachers, process the paperwork, calculate their pay and so on. Of course, she also needed to get to know them, but I expected they would need some time to get past what they’d seen her do in that demonstration. Just seeing her from afar would probably give them nightmares for awhile.

“I’m listening!” I said, picking up a call. I didn’t know who it was calling, but, oh well. This was nothing new, no.

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you at such a late hour, but, anyway, you weren’t asleep,” said a calm male voice.

“Let me guess. You’re from Imperial Intelligence?” I laughed. Only they...Hmmm... But how did he know I wasn’t sleeping? I needed to find out how they carried out surveillance. Was it, by any chance, via these cell phones? I had a reason, actually, for not carrying mine about all the time, leaving it behind at the castle, or with a guard. I should actually keep it in an airtight bag.

“Almost... Just the Imperial Chancellery,” the voice remained calm, and therefore I was convinced of my assumptions. They always said that they were from the chancellery, actually. I just realized it.

“So then, what is the purpose of your call? I doubt that your aim is simply to wish me sweet dreams?”

“Alas, but no,” he sighed. “The emperor is summoning you. It’s urgent!”

“Should I start worrying?” I dislike being urgently summoned by a monarch. It wasn’t a routine kind of thing, after all.

“No, Count Bulatov. You have nothing to worry about. On the contrary, it’s a friendly visit,” the intelligence officer reassured me, but for some reason I became even more tense. “You, Countess Bulatov, and your companions are all invited, as well.”

“In that case, the emperor could himself come to me,” I said, thinking out loud.

“Don’t worry about it. He simply wants to hear about your recent exploits.”

“Exploits? What might these exploits be? I don’t recall any recent events of that nature.” Au contraire, in fact. I’d done my best to not stand out. Truly, I’d taken pains to not dazzle the world at large, in fact.

Anyway, this ended our conversation, and I ordered everyone to get ready for this upcoming visit. I called Vika, the pilots and several guards, and then I headed for the plane. My servants would pack what I needed, Georgy would find me accommodations in the capital and as for everything else, I delegated what needed to be done. Then I began pondering where I’d gone wrong. Had we gone too far into the territory occupied by the offworlders? Or had His Highness found out about how much I’d been having auctioned off? I was selling all the trophies through the Imperial Auctioneers, after all, and so the emperor had access to the list of sellers, even if they wanted to stay anonymous.

We were permitted to fly over the capital, so soon we landed right on the roof of the hotel. This was right across from the CRAP, Incorporated, the entity that tried to down us with missiles that time. By way of an apology, they’d given me my airplane.

“Don’t linger after we disembark. Fly away from here,” I said to the senior pilot, and nodding, he did as told. If the CRAP engineers saw what we’d done to this plane, well, they’d either attack us or, worse still, try to kidnap us.

Several Imperial Guardsmen and an inconspicuous man with bags under his eyes wearing a classic suit were already waiting for us at the landing pad.

“Welcome to Moscow, Count Bulatov! The emperor is expecting you in,” he glanced at his watch, “three hours and forty-nine minutes.”

“That’s great! That gives us time to settle in and prepare,” I nodded, and we headed for our penthouse rooms. From here we had a wonderful view of the city, plus our suite was, indeed, spacious.

“We can even fit in some shopping!” Victoria was excited. Uh-huh, sure thing! I knew what it was like to accompany Vika to these stores. Whenever I ended up with her in a salon that sold the latest fashions, right away I’d put myself in a state of deep meditation. Once, while she was selecting a new dress, I succeeded in doing a complete overhaul of the channels in my upper limbs. I even had time leftover to work on my source. But of course I didn’t try to stop her from shopping. I was too busy pondering why the emperor wanted to see me. After all, I’d yet to be told what to expect, not by the man that met us here, nor were the guardsmen they provided us doing any talking. All they did was stand there smiling. I’d given up on trying to get them to say anything, and so, after getting ready for a shopping excursion, Vika and I headed out.

In the end, though, Vika ended up wearing an old dress to the palace. If you can call a dress she’d bought two weeks ago old. All I could find out via available sources was that a ball would be held at the palace that very day, but no one knew what the occasion was, not even news sources.

“Be prepared, Count Bulatov! The emperor will receive you soon,” said the same gray man from the emperor who’d met us before. This time he had some powerful guards with him. Actually, all of the Imperial Guards were powerful. Every one of them in the palace, at least, was either first- or second-rank. Any one of them was equal to an entire detachment of Gifted fighters, and, moreover, these men spent their entire lives training to fight.

Which begged the question, actually, of where one might find Imperial Palace Guards who’d retired? Ideally, those who’d retired due to disabilities?

“Don’t worry,” Vika said quietly. She was clutching my arm and pressing tightly against me. Clearly she was the nervous one.

“I don’t like this, not at all,” she breathed. Glancing around the spacious hall she’d seen that we were the only guests thus far. And all around were far too many guards.

“My intuition tells me not to worry. But I, too, don’t like this,” I said and she squeezed my arm even more tightly. “Don’t worry! I’ll make sure we both get out of here alive. I have to, after all. And not only because I gave my word to your father. You should always feel safe when you’re by my side.”

Vika said nothing, but I could feel her heart beating faster. She looked intently at me, breathing heavily now, and...

“Count and Countess Bulatov!” the door open and a member of the staff appeared. He bowed slightly and motioned toward where we were to go. “Please come this way! The emperor awaits you!”

Victoria blushed at this. It had to be some kind of necrotomatic condition. I wondered if I could actually start a family in this life? The problem with that, though, is that it would create a target for my enemies. Ah, well, this was not the time for such thoughts.

“Your Highness! I present the Bulatovs!” the servant bowed to the emperor, who turned his gaze upon us. He rose to his feet from his throne and walked towards us, measuring me with his eyes as he approached.

“But of course! When the emperor issues a summons, you always make a point of showing up,” he chuckled.

“Not always. If I must convalesce, I wouldn’t be able to respond,” I shrugged.

“Hah! A Healer who needs to convalesce!” he laughed.

“Ah, but the common cold spares no one,” I said, producing a theatrical sniff.

At that the emperor burst into a hearty laugh, but then, after he calmed down, he put a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Actually, I need to speak with you about a serious matter,” he said. Ooops. Sounds like I really had screwed up somehow. I quickly surveyed our surroundings, spotted any escape routes, and counted the number of guardsmen I’d have to take out. Of course, who knows who was hiding out around here? I could sense heartbeats beneath the floor. Although it could just be subterranean levels. I wasn’t the only one who had an affinity for bunkers. But what was behind that door over there? An army? An entire detachment!?

Meanwhile, the emperor clapped his hands, and the doors swung open. A throng of people flooded into the throne room, including journalists with microphones and cameras. They swarmed toward us as all of them started speaking at once, which created such a din that I couldn’t make out what they wanted.

Again the emperor put his hand on my shoulder and smiled.

“I want to present to you a fine young aristocrat! He hasn’t long been a count, but has already chocked up a host of accomplishments!” enthused the emperor. What a bastard! “Count Bulatov is a true son of the Empire! I have often heard mutterings behind my back about my policies. I’m forcing the poor aristocrats to go up against the offworld invaders, egging them on to risk their lives in battle for the homeland! And who are these malcontents? They are the ones seeking more territory, more titles, and after capturing all of five offworlders they act like they’ve performed a mighty feat,” scoffed the emperor. Meanwhile, I was still looking for a way out of this. But now, I was stuck, surrounded.

“And on the very first day! The first!” the emperor now clutched my shoulder as if knowing I felt like bolting. In fact, I had to strengthen my bones against his powerful grip. “This man before you captured five hundred offworlders! And that is why I am throwing a ball in his honor! Let the entire nation behold a hero! Our greatness is built on men like him!”

And finally, the emperor released his grip and I turned away.

“What on earth!?” asked Vika, just as blown away as I was.

“That’s it, we’re finished!” I threw up my hands. “Now every dog will stick its nose into our affairs. And they’ll all want to unearth our secrets.”

“But it’s not like they know that we have secrets,” she frowned.

“True, they don’t know, but they can definitely guess...”

For awhile longer the journalists continued swarming the emperor with an avalanche of questions, and they also tried to get to me, as well. But the Imperial Guard held them back, for which we were grateful. In fact, I cured one of them by ridding him of flat feet, although it wasn’t easy. But I’d put so much energy in reserve in case I needed it that I had to release some of it somehow.

The emperor answered a few questions and put on a bit of a show for the cameras, and then he requested that the press remove themselves. And then, nodding at us to follow, he headed toward the ballroom. It was being held in a huge hall that was accessible through a network of hallways and passages.

We followed him, and as we entered, the emperor announced, “And here are our heroes! Mikhail Bulatov and his beautiful fiancée, Victoria!”

I quickly scanned the assembled guests, and felt a wave of palpable hatred. True, they all clapped and were graciously smiling, and even did what they could to fawn over us. But this was only while the emperor was around. Once he was gone, the aristocrats revealed themselves in all their glory.

Of course, there were some exceptions. Some of them congratulated me from the bottom of their hearts, and others were simply indifferent. These were just after a good time, with plenty of libations and dancing. But there were those who tried to suggest that I’d somehow cheated. They were all huddled together in a gaggle of malcontents gossiping about what I must’ve done to capture so many offworlders.

I really had to strain my eavesdropping skills to listen in. Moreover, the various hypotheses about how I’d done it were quite diverse, from simply lucking upon some sleeping offworld forces to outright slander. One even suggested that I’d attacked another aristocrat and killed him, and then taken his prisoners.

“I knew you’d be here,” a familiar voice said, and turning around, I saw Countess De la Fillete Mignon. She was still in a wheelchair, but looked much better. And she was speedier as well, zipping along in her power chair. “This is why I decided to fly over. I wanted to see you. Do you mind my intruding on you now?”

She smiled, and I could see that she was genuinely happy for me.

“Why would I?” I asked. In fact, since meeting her, I’d learned a little French, although she actually spoke Russian well. After all, she had relatives here.

For awhile Vika, I and Countess De La Filette Mignon chatted, just the three of us. Then we gravitated to the tables laden with delicacies, and from there headed out onto a huge balcony to catch a breath of fresh air.

Just like usual, the others paid no attention to us, most of them still gossiping behind our backs thinking that I couldn’t hear them. However there were some extroverts who felt like it was their duty to try to jerk my chain. And they also tried to target my companions, as well.

“A worthy company,” a tall young guy chuckled. “A Necromancer and...” he looked at the French countess, shuddered and turned away. But she gave him a sweet smile that seemed to make him almost die. I had to admit that the lady had a powerful Gift. Just in case I treated her victim, although he was, well, not so worthy. He started swaying on his feet, and I grabbed him by the elbow to stop him from collapsing. I healed him, but also gifted him with a couple of surprises for the future. Hope the local Healers were up to treating a serious case of warts. Especially the green kind that would be emerging all over his face.

It was strange how many looked contemptuously at the French countess and responded to her in a sarcastic tone although she herself was always nice to them, and polite. Really, I saw nothing amiss with her behavior. Not at all. What was especially odd about their rudeness was that she was a close relative of the emperor’s. How did he put it? His policies were harsh? And yet these aristocrats had no qualms about mocking his niece; he seemed powerless to stop them. I would say that he was too soft on the aristocrats, actually. But from what I overheard, the French niece was considered a soft target, a weakness to the emperor.

Just then an orchestra began playing some nice music, and I invited Victoria to dance. Her heart again started beating rapidly, but just the same we soon were spinning around the dance floor. By then I’d quit eavesdropping on the chatter out there, as it was by now boring.

As a Healer in my past life, I was used to drawing the notice of the women. It’s easy to attract the opposite sex when you have lots of money and the ability to manipulate your hormones. The women flock to you. And anyway, it really was only natural that women would be attracted to me. It was all a matter of my heartbeat, my rhythmic breathing, hormonal releases...There were many factors and it was all controllable.

But Vika, well, it was different with her. There was something different going on within her. It wasn’t just mere attraction, no. It was, in fact, something totally a little inscrutable. That is why I’d been sure at first that she felt completely indifferent to me. Or this could all be so much nonsense. For me to know for sure, I’d have to carry out tests and experiments, which was totally out of the question with Victoria.

“Mish…” Vika whispered in my ear and glanced at De La Filette Mignon, who was sitting sadly in her chair watching everyone around her whirling about in a dance. “Can’t you do something to help her?”

“Only if you’re okay with it,” I said and seeing that she was, we stopped dancing and headed over to the wheelchair-bound Frenchwoman.

“Do something to help. It’s not right to allow her to be so sad.”

“What, enough dancing already? But why?” she asked with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to watch you! Your’re both so...What?” she asked, surprised as I offered her my hand.

“Would you like to dance?” I smiled, paying no mind to the surprised laughs of those around us. She hesitated, but then she gently placed her hand in mine while looking questioningly into my eyes. “Trust me!” I winked, activating a complex spell on the sly. A wave of power passed from my hand into hers and then through her body, filling her with strength. And then, struggling a bit, she tried to rise to her feet and ...

“Wow!” she exclaimed, radiant with happiness and then bursting into tears. “I feel so strong in both my arms and my legs, as if I’m cured!”

“But don’t let go of me,” I warned her. “You might fall. I can fully cure you later on, but right now it’s still too early.”

“Vika, you don’t mind if I take your fiancé away from you for a few minutes…?” she asked, and then again looking questionably at me.

“We have half an hour, for sure,” I said

“Is that all right?” she asked Vika

“Of course!” smiled Victoria, pouring herself a glass of wine, “I’ll occupy myself somehow.”

* * *

Meanwhile...

The emperor’s study

“Your Highness,” said a man with a heavy accent indicating some papers, “but this is a profitable contract! It will greatly benefit both our countries!”

“Let me say it yet again! I will not sell government lands to your corporations. Open a subsidiary company and do everything in accordance with the law,” the emperor frowned and involuntarily released some power. “You can lease the lands, and pay the tax.”

“Ah, but you know that should we do so, then we’ll have to share secret technologies,” said the foreign envoy, shaking his head.

“In any case you’d have to share your secrets,” responded the emperor. “But now I must leave you,” he went on, seeing the head of his clandestine operatives fidgeting at the door.

“Your Majesty, I must pass on a report from the ball,” the innocuous-looking man spoke as soon as he was sure that the diplomat was gone. “Duke Yunusov, Count Karpatin and Countess Levakova have again insulted your niece.”

The emperor clenched his fists, as well as his teeth.

“What kind of people are these cretins?” he choked out the words. “I need to speak with their fathers and have them teach their offspring some manners, and if they won’t, I will.”

“There’s one more thing…” the man grimaced.

“Speak!” boomed the emperor.

“From what I’ve heard, they’ve all conspired to, how to say?” he snapped his fingers. “Take action. They envy your niece and think that since she is a foreign countess, you will not be able to stand up for her.”

“What?” asked the emperor, surprised. “But I am the emperor.”

“They believe that should you do so you will end up quarreling with powerful Families, and that you would be loath to undertake that kind of risk,” he spread his hands.

“Okay, so what specifically are they conspiring to do?”

“They want to damage her means of transport, her chair. Make it impossible for her to get about. And then, Countess Levakova will spill red wine on your niece’s dress. The aim is to humiliate your niece.”

“Do you know when they plan to do this?” frowned the emperor.

“Any minute now,” nodded the operative. “I came here to report on this as soon as I learned of it.”

“No…” the emperor shook his head and rose from his chair. “I won’t allow anyone to touch my niece! She’s a wonderful person! Why do they seek to sully her?” And he slammed his fist onto the table, sending an echo from the sound throughout the palace. But the table held up. “That’s an amazing table!” the emperor had to marvel at it while he rubbed his bruised fist.

He then swiftly exited his study and hurried off towards the ballroom. The guards he passed along the way flinched from the raw power emanating from him, and the servants fell to their knees, unable to withstand the force of his anger. Meanwhile, the innocuous-looking man who’d delivered the report followed the emperor, although no one even noticed him. That was his job, to remain unseen.

When the emperor was almost at the ballroom the force emanating from him was magnified even more.

“Am I too late?” he bellowed, blasting the doors open with one blow. But then he froze, because he saw how his niece, who should be confined to a chair, was spinning around the dance floor. Her face was glowing with happiness and she seemed healthy and alive in a way unseen since her malady had confined her to a wheelchair. “Bulatov?” asked the emperor, looking at her partner. Only now did he notice how much energy was flowing from Mikhail into his niece. And this then, was how she could dance.

They tore up the dance floor for a few more minutes, and then Bulatov led his radiant partner back to her wheelchair. They were still laughing and chatting about their dance, as the emperor started heading over to say a word, but just then Yunusov sped up to them.

“French scum!” he hissed, and then splashed wine from his goblet into Mikhail’s face. “I challenge you to a duel, you traitor to the homeland!” spat the young duke, looking contemptuously at the Healer.

“What to do, your highness?” whispered his spook into his ear.

“What are you doing? This is a violation of the law! You are in the emperor’s palace! Duels are prohibited here!” yelled a man in the crowd.

All this time the emperor stood there thinking. The rage inside had not subsided, and therefore his thoughts were ever the more confused. But in the end the solution came to him by itself.

“Yes, a duel!” boomed the emperor to the room at large, and a hush fell over the room. “I shall allow this duel! To the death! So it shall be,” he finished, heading toward his throne as everyone else looked at Yunusov. A bloodthirsty smile spread across the young duke’s face as he clearly anticipated an outcome in his favor.

“Ack!...Watch out!” cried someone else from the crowd, looking at Bulatov. The Healer was smiling, yes, but the look on his face was far more frightening than the young duke’s facile confidence.

Chapter 10

“MIKHAIL, STALL FOR TIME. Don’t rush into this,” De La Fillete Mignon was holding her phone tightly in her hands, “I’ve called my people and we’ll come up with something.”

“There’s no need for that,” I smiled at her, and then sized up my adversary. Right now preparations for the duel were in full swing, with the staff clearing off tables and putting up barriers around a ring, and even erecting stands for spectators. “The emperor gave the green light for this duel!”

Aristocrats were full of blood lust, and especially enjoyed getting together to watch their own kind kill each other. This was all the more so as filming duels was prohibited. I’m not sure why, but so it was. Thus, I couldn’t review any footage of Yunusov’s past fights, although that might be useful.

But really, I didn’t even need to. He was a duke’s son, and undoubtedly strong, which is why we wasn’t even worried. In fact, he was scoffing at me and telling rude joke to his cohorts, suggesting that he’d soon me making me cry like a baby and fall on my knees to beg him for mercy. Right, the usual adolescent bravado.

“You can turn to the Right of Substitution. Among my relatives we have some who possess very powerful Gifts. They can stand in for you...” she began but just then Vika burst out laughing. The French countess was shocked and said, “Victoria, aren’t you at all worried about your fiancé?”

“I’m often worried about him. But I’m used to it by now because it doesn’t get any better as time passes,” she sighed, and then she looked at who I’d be going up against. He possessed the Gift of Speed, which was rare; moreover, he was third rank. Had he trained hard to employ his Gift, he’d be a truly formidable opponent. Indeed, in this world there were many who might suffer going up against him. “But that being said,” continued Vika, “the duke’s son is definitely not any cause for concern.”

Yes, Victoria knew full well that Yunusov could speed up both his thinking and his actions, and also, had he worked to develop his muscles and bones, he could deliver rapid, invisible blows, and dodge all attacks. He could, perhaps, even dodge bullets. This Gift wasn’t as useful on the battlefield, of course. Chaos, missiles, shrapnel were all pretty indiscriminate. You could twist and turn like a top but still fall prey to what takes place on the field of action.

But that’s precisely where Healers excel. What? My arm’s torn off? No biggie. I’ll just slap it back on.

“But Healers, well...” the French countess began, but then stopped herself. “But what am I saying? Mikhail is evidently no ordinary Healer,” she smiled, adding “I believe in you, Mikhail. And I fully expect you to cure me someday.”

Meanwhile, the emperor sat on his throne glaring at Yunusov and occasionally glancing at us. Well done, old man. He’d been able to assess all of the intelligence he’d gathered about me and knew that the duke’s son was doomed. What this amounted to was an execution, and I was to be the executioner. From what I’d gleaned, the Yunusov Family patriarch was a man of vast wealth and influence, with a legion of aristocrats in his corner and a reach that extended far beyond the capital.

Of course, the emperor allowing me to take out Yunusov’s insolent son would be a slap in his father’s face, and it would be at the hands of yours truly. But this wasn’t because the emperor was afraid of provoking an uprising were he to deliver the reprimand. No, though Yunusov was powerful, he couldn’t take out the monarch, no matter how much he wished he could. However there would inevitably be repercussions to the Empire, so why not avoid that when such a handy executioner was here to do the job? What a cunning man, though. He was the master of intrigue, able to take advantage of whatever was at hand.

However, it wasn’t like this would be a difficult undertaking for me. Vika had clued me in about the Yunusov Family, so I felt like I knew enough to carry out the execution.

“Count Bulatov,” a man spoke curtly. He was attired in a formal suit bearing the Yunusov coat of arms, which depicted two crossed swords against the background of a lion’s head. “I represent the Yunusov Family.”

“Stand in line!” I said, waving him away. “First I’ll deal with him,” I said, motioning toward the duke’s son. “And then I’ll dispense with you; that is, if you’re still up for it.”

“You misunderstand me,” he scowled, but tried not to display his irritation at what I’d said. “You are destined to lose this duel.”

Yes, just now Vika had told me about this. The Family was famous for its success in exacting vengeance. Not that they had anything to avenge right now, as I’d done nothing to provoke this duel. As far as I could tell, this Yunusov punk simply wanted an outlet for his blood lust.

“And make no doubt about it, you will not prevail,” said the Yunusov Family representative with a tight smile. “But do bear in mind that if the duke’s son incurs even a single bruise, we will butcher your entire Family.”

“How strong your Family’s heir is, and how independent,” I chuckled. “You worry so much about his tender skin that you’re ready to threaten innocent people!” I was actually red hot with anger at this, but outwardly calm.

I hated people like the Yunusovs. They not only target their enemies, but also their enemy’s loved ones. That being said, I fully believed that they would seek to do exactly what this man said. He was telling me the truth, meaning if I was to even scratch Yunusov the heir, his Family would exert a massive effort into exacting revenge. They’d already destroyed many weaker Families, uprooting them, and in the cruelest way, and so... I wasn’t going to make this a swift kill.

“You can shrug your shoulders,” sighed the Yunusov representative, “but I’m warning you. Your death should appear to be as pathetic, as lowly as possible. Do what you can to die as a coward, a nonentity, and then, perhaps, we will not touch your Family.”

“Perhaps?” I couldn’t hide my disgust at that.

“The Yunusovs are a ducal Family. They do not forgive transgressions,” said the representative with pride, thrusting out his chest. “You have insulted the heir of the Family, dared to provoke him, and to turn your back on him. This is unacceptable. The great Yunusov Family is known throughout the realm for avenging all insults, and nobody, but nobody...”

“Yadda-yadda-yadda, go away now...” I waved him off. “I’m sick of you!”

“But...” the representative was momentarily taken aback, “I am the representative...”

“Go! Now!” I swatted at him as if he was a fly buzzing about me. “I’ve heard enough!”

And, by the way, he didn’t have much time left. That stomach ulcer that had been troubling him for a decade now was swiftly developing. After a couple of days, the acid in the gastric juices was going to be high enough to corrode his damaged walls and spill into his abdominal cavity. Nasty stuff.

Right, and no Healer would be able to help. His channels were now tightly closed, and that was the only means of alleviating his condition. No painkillers would help, either, so he’d have to suffer through it.

Cruel? Perhaps, but he deserved it. He was sincerely proud of how the Yunusov Family inflicted pain and suffering on the weak. And he happily participated in their so-called “acts of vengeance,” so now it was his turn to suffer for a change.

“By the way, can I place bets?” I asked Vika, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s not permitted. You can only bet on chess. This is the emperor’s own edict.”

“Ah, but we in France do not have such a ban,” said De La Fillete Mignon. Too bad we weren’t in France. I couldn’t help but wonder what the odds would be when I, a regular Healer, went up against a third-rank duke’s son with the Gift of Speed. I’m thinking I’d rake in the winnings.

But, incidentally, here’s the funniest thing. It would take me the same amount of time to fly from here to Paris as it would take me to fly back to the castle. Just my luck to end up in such a vast country.

Meanwhile, all this time the ball went on. Even though in the center of the hall a racket was going on with builders erecting barriers and making other preparations for the duel, this didn’t stop the crowd of revelers from avidly discussing the upcoming spectacle. In fact, it was as if more and more people were flocking into the ballroom. The pampered aristocrats of the capital wanted to see the duke’s son with the Gift of Speed go up against the Healer. This was a rare match-up, indeed, as the Healers in this world generally stayed in the background. Why take risks by provoking anyone when it was so easy to live a quiet life of moderate luxury and not want for anything? As for any who wished them ill, they could, if they really wanted, hire a killer.

To my surprise, these aristocrats were divided into two camps. Some were, of course, certain that I would meet a swift end. But only if Yunusov didn’t feel like toying with his adversary, as he generally enjoyed doing. He might deliberately extend the duel by inflicting a host of non-fatal wounds until his adversary begged for mercy. Even then, the duke’s son might opt to continue torturing his opponent to ensure maximum suffering.

But the other camp, comprising many in the room, believed that I might prevail. These were basically Families with solid intelligence networks. They knew full well how the Bulatov enemies who’d been invading our lands had fared. They knew that, time after time, superior enemy forces inexplicably suffered heavy losses. Yes, many were starting to understand that there was much more to the Bulatovs than met the eye. And what was evident was how calm I was, and this really irritated Kirill Yunusov.

“Mikhail,” Vladimir emerged from the crowd of aristocrats, “what are you thinking? As soon as I heard about it, I rushed over here!”

“Well, you see,” I nodded towards Yunusov’s ever-growing retinue. “The kid took offense and decided he wanted to go out with a bang.”

“But do you know what this boy’s father is capable of?” Vladimir, my main man for moving merchandise, was clearly worried. “They’re real bastards! They stop at nothing; they’re ruthless and don’t have even a drop of honor,” he said, trying his best to ensure we weren’t overheard. “Do you want me to call the Imperial Auctioneers? You mean so much to them by now that they that might even want to find a stand-in for you. Or they can talk to the Yunusovs themselves; they can be very persuasive, believe me.”

“The emperor has already given the go-ahead for this,” I said with a smile, looking at His Highness on the throne. Now he was surrounded by his large family. They were all looking at me with rank curiosity, and so I waved at them.

By the way, it was the emperor who I was saving from the headache of threats such as those made by the Yunusov Family representative. But I didn’t begrudge him anything. Firstly, he must know what was afoot with this dastardly duke, and secondly, he must know full well what was in the best interests of the Empire. And so it might seem from the outside that sometimes this aging monarch was showing signs of decline. But I was certain this wasn’t the case, and that he had his own plans for the Yunusov Family.

But if at any point they were to truly pose a risk to the monarchy, than I could help out.

“Take note, Mikhail. If you win, war would be inevitable,” Vladimir tried to present his final argument, and several other aristocrats nodded in agreement. I got the drift by now. That’s what these Yunusovs were all about. That being said, they never participated in wars on behalf of the Empire.

“Okay, yet another war. What difference does it make?” I laughed.

“Gentlemen, please enter the arena and meet at the center of the circle!” the emperor’s first assistant summoned us in clarion tones. I hadn’t noticed that they’d finished setting up the venue for this showdown, but already the aristocratic audience had sat down in the stands to watch. There were plenty of spectators, with seating for all. Good thing, that, because if any of them had to stand, there could be disputes breaking out.

I took off my jacket and handed it to Vika, buckled my sword on, and entered the arena, which was surrounded by a force field.

“You know the rules,” nodded the emperor’s assistant. “The use of artifacts, technical combat gear, firearms and combat stimulants is prohibited.” We both nodded, and he added, “Present your weapon for inspection.”

This kind of meticulous inspection wasn’t to be found at duels in Arkhangelsk. But of course, this duel was taking place at the royal palace, and so the honor of the emperor was at stake. Should it be said later that some aristocrat died in a dirty duel, there could be serious repercussions. Next, we underwent an exam by a Healer, then they scanned us with some devices, and only then did the emperor’s assistant leave the arena and announce the start of the duel.

“My representative told me how you insulted him,” Yunusov grinned, “so have no doubt, your Family is doomed. Not just your Family, but your servants, your peasants. We’ll kill them all, and raze your castle to the ground.”

I silently unsheathed my sword. Why engage in banter with this scumbag? Anyway he’d soon be dead meat.

“You don’t need that sword,” laughed Yunusov as he activated his Gift. “You can’t touch me.”

“Well, whatever you say,” I shrugged and put the sword back into its sheath. This amused the enemy even more, and still laughing, he rushed at me.

The Gift of Speed is, indeed, powerful. It permitted this punk to speed up his reactions and movements whilst executing precise actions. Thus, the speed with which he launched himself at me was not discernible to the naked eye. That is, not to anyone but me. I’d infused my brain with massive amounts of energy and enhanced my senses in preparation for this encounter, and so to me, it was as if he was moving at normal speed. And thus, I could see the punk’s look of surprise as he realized his face was about to meet my fist head-on. Bam! His teeth rained down on the parquet floor and blood spurted from his broken nose. His sword swished through the air as he fell to the floor. But then, quickly recovering, he jumped to his feet, ready to go at me again.

“What, why so serious now?” I lightly taunted him as I rubbed my fist. “I thought that was fun...”

“Uck you!” he uttered. Right, hard to cuss without front teeth. Ironically, though, my blow was strengthened by his velocity; he flew at me full speed ahead, after all. “You...”

“Hey, no need for that. All’s fair, as they say,” I spread my hands. “As requested, there will be no Yunusov blood on my blade in this duel. But nothing was said about my hands,” And, springing at him, I landed one blow after another whilst dodging his flailing attempts to employ his sword.

Actually, he did manage to nick me now and then, but could inflict no real damage. I didn’t bother healing them, as anyway I was already giving the capital’s aristocrats too much of a show.

“A-a-a!” Yunusov howled in pain as I slammed my fist into his ribs.

But of course I was ensuring that he had several broken bones. And I was enhancing his pain through magical means. It was a simple spell to deploy and I was doing so liberally. He deserved to hurt.

With one blow after another I pushed him to the very edge of the circle. By now my clothes were soaked in blood, but I kept up the pace, though I was fighting a fast, quite agile adversary. I targeted blows to his legs, and also to his head. Often he managed to dodge them, but not always, and then I managed to grab him by the hair and took the opportunity to knee him in the face.

His facial bones audibly cracked, the blood gushing out, and then his sword clattered to the floor as he himself collapsed. But he didn’t pass out. I wouldn’t let him. However he went limp, knowing he was defeated and simply hoping that I would spare his life.

“Bulatov!” he cried out, as I punched him in his shattered face. “Forgive me! Your Family...” I hit him again. “I won’t hurt them!” he screamed, but I was like a jackhammer now, hitting him over and over again. I didn’t even consider stopping. Impressively, he could still sometimes shield his face, and when he did, I’d pummel his hands.

His Gift? Yes, Yunusov had used it to the best of his ability. To the room at large, the duel had transpired in a matter of moments, it was so fast-paced. Most of the spectators couldn’t even see the actual blows. But now this bastard could no longer use his Gift. After all, you couldn’t employ speed without the ability to move. And moving was, indeed, a challenge when one’s spinal cord is shattered.

“Money!” he moaned as he attempted to scuttle away from me. “Money! We have lots of money!” he said, all thoughts of Family honor cast aside. Indeed, now it was as if he was ready to throw his Family name under the bus. Right in front of high society, the capital’s higher echelon. I quickly glanced at the emperor, who shook his head and then cupped his hand over his face.

“Calm down now and die with grace!” I then struck him in the throat, and he started wheezing. Yes, I could have dragged it out, but then again, why waste time on this trash?

And yes, I understood wanting to exact revenge on an enemy. People could be cruel, vindictive, and some might even want to track down an enemy for years on end, and then do terrible things to him. But it was another thing entirely to target innocents such as women, children, family members and servants. Worse still was going at them even after you’ve killed your nemesis, just to make them serve as an example to others. And it was because of this that I showed no mercy. He hadn’t been lying when he told me that he planned on killing my peasants, and razing my estate. In so doing, he’d passed his own death sentence.

The young Yunusov’s wheezes died down, and he was gone. The end. I stood up and locked eyes with the Yunusov Family representative, who was pale as a ghost. I could tell from his heartbeat that he actually might not live long enough to die from his ulcer.

“He lived like a dog and died like a dog,” I said, shaking the blood off my hands.

“This is war...” said the barely alive representative. “An apocalypse for the Bulatovs.”

“Get in line!” I laughed. “Just try to scare me. I have so many out to get me, you’ll have to fight each other first just to try to take me on.”

Just then the royal Healer approached to examine my wounds, and marveled that I still had blood in me.

Next, they took me to their in-house clinic and put bandages over all of the cuts and nicks and gave me fresh clothes. Actually, I requested that I be permitted to bandage myself. And I ensured that enough blood seeped through the bandages to satisfy them that I’d been injured, and it was only then that I self-healed. I didn’t want to walk around with even minor aches and pains.

“You then are Count Bulatov?” asked a stately man of about fifty who approached me as soon as I returned to the ballroom.

“Who is this?” I asked Victoria, although I was pretty sure I knew.

“I am Kirill’s father,” he said in a deep voice and frowned. “You just beat him to death.”

“Quite deservedly so,” I noted, and his face flushed in anger.

Everyone fell silent, and the particularly curious aristocrats began to gather around us. These were the kind who flocked around at the hint of a display of bloodshed. Really, there were so many other ways to amuse yourself, and yet the masses still craved violence and conflict.

“I will not declare war on you...”

“And I won’t allow it,” interrupted the emperor, who also drew near.

“I will simply uproot the Bulatov Family, once and for all. I will destroy everything that is dear to you,” Yunusov then directed his angry gaze at the emperor. “And I have every right!”

“Would you like to start with me?” I laughed. “We could have another duel, unless you’re afraid,” I spread my hands. “In fact, they haven’t yet dismantled the arena.”

Duke Evgeny Yunusov flushed even more, and then his powerful, first rank aura flared up, causing those around him to wince. He was strong, no doubt about it. But not strong enough. It would be easier for me to finish him off here rather than hunting him down all over the country and fighting his troops.

“Well?” I gave him a dazzling smile that was downright wicked, “What say you? Shall we?”

* * *

It was painful for Evgeny to see the body of his eldest son, but it was even more painful to hear the story of how he was nefariously beaten with fists and that he’d begged for mercy in front of everyone.

But though his son had been an idiot, just the same, this idiot was his son. And the fact is that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Not at all. He himself was just as hot-tempered, uncompromising and cruel.

He still had other plenty of other children, this wasn’t the end of the line for the Family, so there was nothing to worry about. However, as the head of the Yunusov Family, he wanted nothing more than to tear this Bulatov fellow apart, right here and now. But the way he was daring to sneer at him, he probably had some kind of trick up his sleeve, or some kind of artifacts. No, better not engage in a duel to the death now; he could actually lose such an encounter.

“You shall live,” Evgeny hissed so that everyone around could hear, “for you shall be the last to die! You will see those you love perish...” and he turned toward Victoria with an evil smile. “And I pity you, Victoria, most of all.”

“Listen up, Evgeny,” I said, walking up and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me, is it that pesky incontinence issue that pisses you off so much? Or were you just born this way? Perhaps if I turn off the tap for you, well, maybe you’ll be a nicer guy.”

Clearly taken aback at the realization that I could know such a thing Evgeny could only sputter out something unintelligible before spinning on his heel and heading for the door. Little did he know that now, in addition to uncontrollable peeing, he would no longer be able to perform at all.

Healers are, in effect, kind creatures. And most importantly, they’re honest. And so I actually had turned off his tap, so to speak. I also gave the duke several more small symbolic gifts. He now itched in the worst places, and let’s not even talk about his newly acquired digestive issues. Nothing too serious, but just the same, most unpleasant.

* * *

Perhaps this wasn’t the time to acquire a powerful new enemy, but I had no choice. And it wasn’t totally the emperor’s fault; Yunusov Jr. himself had provoked the duel. He was used to everybody cowering and backing down to him out of fear, and so this was the first time that someone had stood up to him.

And it’s not like his father was any different, except that he was older, wiser, and deadlier. He knew full well that no Healer from this world could defeat someone with the Gift of Speed. Therefore, he’d soberly considered that, just like his son, he could die should he fight me in a duel. That’s why he’d opted to take a more judicious course of action.

Besides this fly in the ointment, the ball had been a fine affair. We danced a little more, ate our fill, and drank a lot of wine. I had a conversation with the emperor, who was now looking at me completely differently. And the royal Healer tried to take me aside for an interrogation. Just the same, I liked him. Sure, he was close to totally incompetent, but he did strive to acquire new knowledge, and that was a rare trait for Healers around here. Maybe someday I’d try to make a bona fide Healer out of him, but not yet. Right now I couldn’t share my knowledge.

“Now are you happy?” I smiled at Victoria as we stood on the helipad watching the guards lug oversized bags full of recently-purchased garments into our chopper.

“Well, I did notice a shoe store on our walk...We forgot to stop in there!” smiled Vika, enjoying watching the blood drain out of my face. It was hard for me to believe that we’d missed a single store. And our day in the capital had flown by. Just as fast as the cash flying out of my wallet. “Ha! I’m just kidding,” she laughed, patting me on the shoulder as she climbed into the helicopter.

I began to follow her, but then, as I stood on the first step, I felt...

A massive, magically charged bullet flew into my back, totally disregarding my diamond armor and significantly reinforced bone structure. It went right through me, leaving a gaping wound in my chest the size of a fist, and sending me flying. A discharge of energy passed through my entire body, knocking me out of consciousness and plunging me into darkness, and I fell onto the floor of the helicopter.

Sniper! But where? How? Why?

Chapter 11

NOBODY, BUT NOBODY doubted that he was the best. For decades now the Ghost had been in the biz, and he’d earned his reputation as the top contract killer not just in the capital, but throughout the Empire. But on this day, for the first time in more years than he could remember, he felt fear. For the first time in his life he’d blundered.

And yet this had seemed to be a simple job, routine. All he’d had to do was fire not directly at the target, but close enough for him to notice the shot. The Ghost recalled his correspondence with the customer, all secret, of course. He’d been surprised by what the customer wanted, and so just in case he’d had him confirm the details. The Ghost wasn’t to kill anyone, just fire the shot and disappear.

He, the Ghost, was the ultimate professional, and accepted the most challenging orders. He was lauded for his creativity and knew exactly where to position himself for each kill. Moreover, he never required more than a single shot to get the job done. Blunders were unacceptable in his profession, and therefore fastidiousness was his hallmark. He never failed to calculate every move, down to the last step, factoring in everything, down to the last sceond. No one but the target was ever hurt, he always had escape routes mapped out, and he knew how to remain unseen, both by human eyes and by cameras. All of these skills were hardwired into him by now, which is why his reputation was spotless. He was truly the best of the best.

Thus, the Ghost knew that the target was to survive, and he was to hit the helicopter. To this end, the Ghost had selected for this job a powerful artifact bullet that could pierce armor.

In regards to communications, the Ghost rarely engaged in direct contact with customers. Typically, like most in his profession, he’d been provided with a photograph, along with as much information about the target as deemed necessary, and finally, the date by which the job was to be completed. And the fee for his services was also agreed upon, as well, of course.

This time, the customer’s intent was, it would seem, to simply scare the target, as well as his companions. Of course, it was all the same to him what the customer’s intent was. What mattered was that he’d been paid not just the full rate, but even more. Nothing else was of his concern.

And he’d fired off a perfect shot. He’d taken into account both the direction and force of the wind, as well as any possible magical interference in the bullet’s path. And then, he’d activated his Gift and pulled the trigger. How was it that he never, ever missed his target? Even in his youth, when his father first allowed him to shoot a real gun, the Ghost would hit the bull’s-eye from a distance of fifty meters. The hole would be perfectly centered, not deviating by even a millimeter.

His Gift was extremely rare, and people called it simply Sharp Eye; it meant that he simply couldn’t miss, but on top of this, he’d undertaken years of diligent training, fired off hundreds of thousands of bullets, and this was why the Ghost was sure of his mastery of the art of shooting. He could hit the target while seated, whilst standing, lying in the mud, running, riding, from a car, and from the air. He could have both hands behind his back, fire whilst somersaulting and even, having seen the target in advance, whilst blindfolded.

Just the same, life hadn’t prepared him for this kind of “shitola.” After firing his shot this time, the Ghost sat back and paused, then again looked through his optical sight, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Incomprehensibly, he’d evidently failed. He’d failed to honor the terms of the contract and so now he wasn’t sure how to proceed. In fact, for all he knew, the person he’d inadvertently shot could be the customer himself.

The thing was, the target had suddenly lurched to the side, as if teleporting himself directly into the path of the artifact-endowed, highly charged bullet speeding toward the chopper.

The Ghost saw with his own eyes how the body pierced by the bullet had flown inside the helicopter and he saw the gushing blood. Nobody could survive that shot to the heart. That man was toast.

But then the Ghost quickly pulled himself together. He calmly packed up his weapon and all the components, and after adjusting his jacket, he picked up the inconspicuous case and headed toward the stairs, taking care not to be in a hurry. He was thinking that now was a good time to leave the city, and maybe even the country. The Ghost had saved enough money to spend the rest of his life on some tropical island and not deny himself anything there. In fact, he’d been thinking about retirement for quite awhile now, and it looked like the time had come to act on this.

No more murders, no more unclear orders, and no more faceless victims, one after another. What he could now envision was one pleasure after another, hundreds of half-naked beauties, tropical cocktails and the sea surf, and yeah, a pigeon.

“What?” The Ghost was surprised at this last thought, but then he saw a pigeon right in front of him. The bird was perched on a banister by the door to the stares, staring at him as if giving him the evil eye.

“Cooo...cooooooo!” It was as if the pigeon was sizing him up, but then the bird nodded at the door, as if indicating the way out. “Cooo!”

“T-thank you…” said the Ghost, and hurried off toward the busy city streets where he blended into the crowd.

* * *

They say that when you’re really scared, your heart can sink into your heels. This was some saying in this country, that’s all. But I wasn’t truly frightened, and so my heart didn’t sink into my heels; rather, it plunged down to my lower abdomen, right below my naval.

I had no time to think twice. I sensed the object heading straight for the helicopter and instinctively acted without a moment to lose. I knew the bullet wasn’t flying at me, and so I naturally assumed the target was Victoria. So accelerating my thinking, I launched myself into the path of the bullet.

All this transpired in less than a second. It was only once I was shot that I could determine what the sniper was aiming at. He wasn’t targeting Vika after all. He seemed to be out to “kill” an instrument panel inside the helicopter. All of this sudden load on my system required me to fry a rune chain on the bones. Oh, well. I’d have to restore it later. But what had happened was I overloaded my system with a huge power surge.

Oh well. It happens. The bullet hit me in the back, breaking my reinforced spine, ripping through my chest, and polluting my entire body with its foul magic. But it’s all good. Even without a heart I could live for some time and could simply go about restoring my blood flow. And this time, not a single vital organ was hit, and so the magic wasn’t scary at all.

I was thrown forward by the impact and rolled along the floor of the helicopter, lodging against the opposite wall. I just laid there to create a nice image for the killer, and at the same time I activated my regeneration and partially blocked the blood flowing from the gaping wound.

I heard screaming as the guards immediately grabbed their weapons and released pigeons to search for the sniper. Vika rushed at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was screaming incoherently, shaking what seemed to her to be my lifeless body while I lay there motionless until one of the smarter guards closed the helicopter’s hydraulic doors.

“Misha-a-a-a! Get up! Mish! What am I going to do!?!?” Victoria was wailing now, and was frantically looking around for at least some kind of healing artifact. “Misha! No! No! Why?”

“Hey, tell me,” I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at her tear-stained face. “What gives?”

“What?” Vika was still sobbing uncontrollably as she looked in horror at my wound. It was big enough to put not just your hand, but your foot through it. By the way, it made it easy for me to scratch my back. Perhaps I could just keep it there for awhile.

“Were you seriously thinking about turning me into a zombie?”

“Well, yes!” She’d released some necrotics into me, and I wasn’t sure if she’d done that on purpose or not, but it had activated a subjugation spell. “You see…” she stammered, still staring at the giant hole in my chest, “you don’t have a heart!”

“Just give me a second,” I said, waving my hand as a heart started emerge from my stomach into the hole. “I always carry a spare heart inside me. By the way, would you like one, too?” I smiled. “But still, tell me. Why turn me into a zombie?

“Well… I…” Vika hesitated.

“Are you into “mistress-slave play, Vika?” At that, Vika blushed and looked away. “Ah, so much I don’t know about you, eh?” I couldn’t help myself; ribbing the poor girl was so much fun! Now she was beet red.

I continued to lie on the floor as I restored most of the damage, but for now I left the wound intact.

“Soldier,” I called a guard over. “Has anyone raised the alarm?”

“No sir, not yet. Shall I have them do that?”

“Yes,” I nodded, “make a fuss as if I was killed. And you,’ I tugged at Vika’s sleeve. “Call the Imperial Chancellery and tell them about the assassination attempt,” and then I paused as I lay there in a pool of my own blood. “And call an ambulance. After all, I really am wounded.”

* * *

Meanwhile...

Imperial Palace

Emperor’s private palace retreat

Closing the door behind him, the emperor sighed and collapsed into a luxurious massage chair. It was only his servants’ efforts that prevented a thick layer of dust from covering everything in this room. Just the same, the emperor’s dreams of relaxing in a calm environment were generally futile.

But this, his retreat, where he liked to unwind and recharge, featured a billiard table, a massage chair, bookcases, a fireplace, and a loaded cocktail bar. However, what the emperor prized most was the solitude, the quiet.

“Yes, Bulatov is full of surprises!” he chuckled, his thoughts pulling him away from the rather dull book he was reading.

He couldn’t forget that duel, and the ease with which Mikhail had gained the upper hand. And the emperor thought about Duke Yunusov. He may be influential, but that didn’t give him the right to contravene his, the emperor’s wishes, especially in the presence of other aristocrats.

But that Healer, the emperor was ever the more intrigued by him, and was keeping an ever closer eye on him. He was some kind of dark horse, a truly interesting figure with many secrets. It was, in fact, quite possible that he was connected with another world. However, for now, Count Mikhail Bulatov was to all appearance completely loyal, nor did he appear to be engaging in espionage or sabotage activities.

Indeed, they’d checked him for artifacts and anything else pointing to offworld ties, and found nothing. Perhaps Bulatov had a back door that gave him access to knowledge from the offworld, or even some other realm? This wouldn’t be the first time the emperor had encountered such a phenomenon.

“Father, there you are!” Alexander, the heir to the throne walked in and sat down on a sofa opposite him. His two eldest daughters walked in after him. “Talk about crazy stuff! Did you see how Bulatov did it?” Alexander was clearly beside himself at what had transpired.

“Anything can happen,” the emperor shrugged, realizing that he might as well give up pretending to doze.

“And what about Yunusov?!” his eldest daughter was indignant. “How can you put up with that!”

“It’s not my intent to tolerate it,” groaned the emperor, getting up and heading for the bar now. “But, unlike him, I know how to control myself. So it will be when he least expects it that the hammer will come down. And you should all know by now that what our Family doesn’t need is a major showdown with the aristocrats.”

“Uh-huh, for sure, father, we know,” Alexander said with a little chuckle.

Everybody knew the tale about what happened sixty or so years ago during the reign of the previous emperor. Back then, a group of the most powerful aristocrats decided to stage a coupe, and, gathering a mass of like-minded followers, they attacked the palace.

More than thirty Family heads were killed in the ensuing battle, and afterwards there was a purge. Imperial troops broke into the estates of traitors all over the country, suppressing those who tried to resist, and in a single day most of the strongest Families were eliminated.

Later on, of course, there were many who said that the emperor had reacted too harshly to the coup. He’d not only killed the heads of the Families, he’d also rescinded the titles from their closest relatives. Both the instigators and those who lent support to them were punished. Yes, those who seek to overthrow the Empire must be punished. The strength, integrity, and honor, its very destiny, depended on crushing dissent and staying united. If the rebels only wanted to replace the emperor, he wouldn’t have responded so harshly. But what they sought was to divvy up the Empire so that each of them could then rule over their own little country.

“So what now?” asked Alexander as he poured himself some tea from the bar.

“We wait,” shrugged the emperor. “Yunusov will inevitably make a mistake, and then we’ll see.”

“But what if one of the Bulatovs is killed?” asked the daughter.

“Yes, that’s entirely possible,” sighed the emperor. “But such is the life of an aristocrat; privileges entail risks, after all.”

Of course, the life of the common people wasn’t easy, either, but the emperor did what he could to help them out. Thus, under his reign, he’d introduced a lot of new restrictions on the aristocrats. This curtailed their ability to exploit the peasants, for example, and also any other commoners, and that wasn’t all. He was even considering instituting a law prohibiting the execution of peasants for offenses, even grave crimes. Of course, aristocrats might any execute this or that peasant, but then they’d face an investigation by the authorities.

“Your Majesty!” the head of his clandestine operatives quietly knocked on the door of the room and entered. “You requested that I contain the Bulatov affair.”

“That’s right,” nodded the emperor. “Have there been any problems? Has he flown home?”

“Not exactly,” grimaced his top clandestine operative. “As it turns out, Bulatov has been killed.”

The cup of tea fell out of Alexander’s hands and smashed onto the floor.

“Wait,” the emperor raised his hand. “How was he killed? Who did it?”

“It appears that he was hit by a sniper.”

“Ours?” the emperor felt his rage rising.

“So it would seem,” the gray man was almost apologetic.

“But wait,” again said the emperor. “I told you to give me reason to punish Yunusov. Right?”

“Yes, Your Highness!” nodded the gray man.

“Okay, but does it not seem to you that you’ve gone a little overboard?” asked the emperor, glaring at his personal operative.

“The killer was told to fire as if at Bulatov, but to miss hitting him.”

“So a sniper was hired!” the emperor put his face in his hands, and stood stock still for a minute. “Okay. Our strategy hasn’t changed. Launch an investigation, and have Duke Yunusov detained for attempted murder,” sighed the emperor, sitting down now in his chair. “But who was this so-called sniper? What incompetence!”

* * *

Meanwhile...

Duke Yunusov’s capital residence

Speeding through the open gates, Duke Yunusov’s motorcade pulled into the courtyard where several vehicles then peeled off, heading for the barracks, while a massive black SUV stopped at the main entrance to the mansion.

The duke was clearly out of sorts, and they could all sense this. For this reason the servants kept their heads down while the guardsmen were particularly zealous about carrying out whatever orders they were given.

“No, I will not allow this insult to remain unanswered!” he growled as he stomped into his drawing room. His Gift was erratically sending out energy discharges, and the duke struggled to contain his anger. With little success thus far. “That sonovabitch of an emperor,” he muttered. “Who does he think we are?! Ha! Does he forget that the Yunusovs are powerful, strong, mighty!? The emperor should have handed me Bulatov’s head on a platter! And this is all because of that French whore!” the duke was confounded, actually, at how this had all come to pass.

The death of his errant son didn’t bother him as much as the damage done that night to his Family’s reputation. It was, in fact, enormous. Indeed, this was on top of several hits his Family name had taken over the past few years.

“Those French bastards, we need to teach them a thing or two!” Yunusov growled, heading for a table laden with hors d’oeuvres, and overturning it with one swipe. “Now that they’re weak after that war with England we should make our move!”

What the duke most regretted right now was that he’d said that he’d kill Bulatov last of all. He shouldn’t have said that, because now, more than anything, he wanted to break that promise.

“Okay, in any event, he’ll die!” Yunusov said, exhaling audibly and then trying to steady his breathing in an attempt to calm the rage seething inside him.

“But of course, my love,” said his wife, entering the room “He’s already dead,” she said, walking up behind him to caress his shoulders. Just then, though, he swung around to face her.

“What? What’s that you said!?”

“He was killed!” she said, throwing up her hands. “There were witnesses who said that a bullet from a sniper punched a fist-sized hole in his chest.”

“Good god!” Yunusov clutched his head. “This is bad...very bad.”

“But why, darling?” his wife said with a bewildered laugh. “This is vengeance! The bastard who killed Kirill has been punished! And you didn’t even have to do it!”

“Right, I didn’t do it,” nodded the duke. “So how are you going to prove it to the emperor?” he said, collapsing into a chair to ponder his next moves.

He shouldn’t have spoken that way to the emperor. And, in fact, he shouldn’t have even gone there himself, but instead sent a representative or his wife, especially because of those drugs he was taking to strengthen his Gift. This was something his Family had been secretly developing. It was a preparation derived in part from offworld herbs to significantly enhance his Gift, although there was a modest side-effect on the psyche. That’s what made it difficult for him to control his emotions at times.

Speaking of, Yunusov picked up the box of pills and tossed it into the fire. It was, after all, because of that drug that he spoke so harshly to the emperor, despite knowing the potential consequences.

“So now what?” he wife was starting to realize the trouble their Family was facing and was worried.

“We’ve been set up!” sighed Yunusov. “Yes, we’ve got enemies, and this might be their doing. But even if the emperor knows I’m not the culprit, he could opt to take advantage of this opportunity to point the finger at us,” he said, and then paused and laughed, adding, “Of course it was no doubt one of Bulatov’s enemies behind this, but why can’t I shake the feeling that the Healer himself was behind his own death? That look he gave me...It was as if I was an insect! A nothing, a nonentity! He showed no respect, no fear!”

The duke then jumped to his feet and, moving over to a sideboard, he slammed his fist into it, smashing it to pieces. And he moved on then to a chair and then to some end tables and so on, attacking all of the furniture in the drawing room until nothing but a jungle of junk was left.

“Gather everyone together!” he then wheezed. “We’re leaving for Altai, to our ancestral fortress!”

“But what about…” his wife began, but he cut her off, and said, “Tell the commander of our guard to summon all of our forces, leaving only a few guards behind. And have him mobilize the army in Altai,” he said. Duke Yunusov had been preparing for something like this, yes. He’d spent years on the details.

True, he’d thought that he’d implement these plans once an uprising broke out, which he would then actually join when the time was right. But it was just his luck that he was now an exile, and he would be the one to launch the rebellion.

* * *

As it turned out, I didn’t have to jump in front of that bullet at all. I didn’t have to save the helicopter, no. In any event, we weren’t allowed to lift off. Now the hotel was surrounded by Imperial Forces. And the streets were choked with military equipment as combat helicopters and planes populated the skies.

And soon they retrieved me from our chopper, placed me on a stretcher, and then took me to the Imperial Hospital where the intrepid Healers began to fight for my life. I’d heard about this hospital; it was the best one in the Empire. In light of this, I’d rather that they let me die! It’s been awhile since I’d felt such shame for my fellow Healers.

“We’re losing him!” someone cried out. “Infuse him with even more energy!”

“Yes sir!” his assistants responded, and six hands touched my body. They immediately began to mindlessly fill me with their energy, directing it chaotically to different parts of my body.

“It’s not working! Something is blocking my energy!”

“Mine, too!”

“It was an enchanted bullet, idiots!” guessed one of them with some smarts. Might this one realize that all he had to do was create an energy vortex in the main channel to bypass this blockage? “Apply more energy!” urged this “genius,” and I felt like slapping myself in the face.

This world was doomed if incompetents like these were in charge of our wellbeing.

For half an hour they did all they could to stop the bleeding from the wound. Then, they turned me over to the surgeons. Better and better. Right away they sawed open my sternum and started poking around in there as they complained that the anesthesia wasn’t working on me.

That’s right, it wasn’t. I wanted to see what was going on. I might as well get an idea of the state of the art of medical practice these days. And I found that I could manipulate the findings pretty easily. Thus,

around ten minutes into the operation I adjusted my indicators so that the doctors thought I’d fallen asleep.

“I don’t understand...” one of the doctors began, “Val, come take a look! Is his heart, what, in the wrong place?”

“What?” asked Val. He’d been tinkering with some equipment at the other end of the room “Cut it out! Our magic filter is clogged here...”

“I’m not joking. His heart really isn’t where it’s supposed to be!” said the surgeon. Ha! I quietly fixed this oversight as Val walked over to take a look.

“Well, what the hell? Looks okay to me!?” he said, looking at my heart, which was now positioned in the right place and totally intact. “Vanya, you need to take some remedial courses. Seriously...”

“Shut up already...” Meanwhile, my spleen was where the kidney should be.

It was interesting how this was done. But I kept my eyes shut, and just waited for them to finish their work. And then the Healers came back, but just to take care of the stitches from the operation.

“What? Where am I?” I opened my eyes once the anesthesia was turned off.

“Wow! I told you, anesthesia doesn’t work on him!” Vanya was amazed. “He should’ve been out for at least two more hours.”

Ooop! Oh well. At least none of them were surprised, so all I had to do was keep on looking confused and asking stupid questions.

“Count Bulatov,” said a man in a pale suit who burst into the room. “So! Everybody out!” he said to the others, and they all filed out through the door.

“What’s happening?” I attempted lifting myself up on my elbows, but then winced in pain and collapsed back onto the bed.

“There’s been an attempt on your life!” he said, moving a chair over to sit beside me. This was none other than the head of the emperor’s clandestine operatives. “You were hit by a sniper’s bullet and it’s a miracle that you survived. The doctors say that he missed your heart by a hair!”

“Lucky me,” I said with a wry smile. “But who did this to me?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Who do you think was motivated to kill you?”

“I don’t even know…” I thought. “Of course, at that ball Yunusov swore that he’d kill not just me, but my entire Family. Although I didn’t expect him to be quite so stupid as to hire a sniper,” I said. Really, who could it be? Although who cared, actually? I had plenty of enemies, and if they were going to go after any one of them, that was fine by me. “Ah, that’s right!” I almost slapped myself on the forehead,”Kurchatov! He’s been after me for a long time, and I’m sure that this was his doing!”

And for quite awhile I discussed my list of enemies with the gray man at my bedside. I theorized who it could be out to get me, talked about past attempts on my life and attempts to overrun my castle and its surrounding. Some three hours later, the gray man ran out of space in his notebook, and stretching his cramped legs out, he then departed to launch the investigation of the century.

I was stuck in that hospital for two days. This, although I knew the laws and no, they had no right to keep me there. But I decided that I’d best not make a fuss. If a giant hole in the chest alarmed them that much, then it only made sense for me to act like I needed to convalesce. All I did was discreetly help the negligent Healers with my treatment; otherwise I’d have been trapped in that hospital room for at least a couple of weeks.

“Count Bulatov!” An intelligence officer met me at the exit to the hospital. “I’ve been commissioned to escort you to your transport. Countess Bulatov and your guards are already on their way.”

“Really? It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the hotel, I can make it there on my own,” I waved him off. “Why don’t you just tell me how the investigation is going?”

“It’s ongoing, but for now I cannot disclose the details. However I must insist you allow me to escort you. This is at the behest of the emperor himself. He wants to do all he can to prevent a repeat attempt on your life.”

Meanwhile, several cars pulled up to the hospital and the back door of one of them opened.

“Please,” said a man in a strict black suit who stepped out of the vehicle, “your helicopter is awaiting you at the Imperial Airfield, and we will ensure your safety.”

“And doesn’t it matter that I never okayed anyone mucking around with my helicopter?” I asked, more out of idle curiosity.

“We had to anyway examine it,” the investigator shrugged. Good thing I didn’t have time to load up the artifacts. I’d already generated too much interest.

So off we went to the airfield. I was in one car and Vika in another, while my guard followed in a minibus. All of the other vehicles were occupied by the secret police and special forces. But just the same, we didn’t draw much attention. It wasn’t unusual to see columns of expensive armored vehicles flying about the streets of the capital. And traffic wasn’t an issue in the city center due to restrictions on entry into these parts of town. Apparently this was essential due to the traffic jams that snarled up the streets before the control measures. It used to be that from dawn to dusk hundreds of thousands of cars flooded the downtown, and all attempts to build new tunnels and overpasses and to widen the roads to alleviate the situation failed to stop the congestion. Now, since cars were strictly limited, most people moved around on public transport. This was faster, cheaper, and even safer.

Suddenly a sharp jerk in tandem with a curse from the driver distracted me from my thoughts. I laughed as everyone grabbed their weapons. Just two days had passed! And fresh out of the hospital, yet again?

A small, brightly painted commercial van ostensibly selling products from a bakery emerged from an alley and headed straight at us. The van blocked our way as the door slid open and men in black jumped out. The last thing that I saw were some grenade launchers. Six of them targeting each of the soldiers accompanying me.

Right away they fired at us, evidently in the know already about which car I was in. There was an immediate explosion and roaring flames, the sounds of gunfire, and distant screaming. I also heard my own laughter. Here we go again! But I used to like spending time in the capital. What an interesting city, really, and yes, so secure.

Oh, well. At least it kept me on my toes!

* * *

Victoria jumped out of the car, beside herself with anger. She was tired of worrying about her fiancé, of being afraid that he was about to die. And if a sniper’s bullet loaded with lethal magic couldn’t kill her tenacious Healer, then what could six grenade launchers do?

Meanwhile, the men in black masks turned and ran back to their van and quickly climbed back inside, but that was as far as they got.

Victoria’s eyes filled with darkness and black flames burst from her hands, striking the center of the van and filling it with deadly power. She could hear screams of horror and pain, and watched as the flames grew ever the more powerful. She’d put all of her fear, pain, and frustrated anger into the spell she’d spontaneously launched. The spell was packed with her suffering from all she’d lost, her anger at all those who’d turned against her Family, her fear for Mikhail, who had given her the hope she so needed now—the thought that someday it would all be okay. And Victoria also thought about how Mikhail had, for months, been oblivious to her hints. He never invited her on a real date and didn’t even notice how she strived to look her best just for him.

“A-a-a-ch! You bastards!” she snarled and released such a massive wave of darkness that everyone within twenty meter of her was knocked off their feet. And then, a giant, pitch-black bony hand emerged from the ground beneath the van. It grabbed the belly of the vehicle even as the attackers were attempting to escape it, it clutched the van in its bony fist, crushing the van and turning it and the occupants into dust.

Silence reigned, broken only by the crackling sound of the burning car in which Mikhail sat. But now, Victoria was exhausted, and she plopped down onto the asphalt and extended her hands toward the flames to warm them.

“F*ck ‘em all!” she heard a voice from the flames. This was followed by a crashing sound, and then a battered and burnt armored door flew off. And Mikhail crawled out of the fire. A little burnt, completely bald, and at the same time deeply out of sorts.

After crawling a safe distance away, he got to his feet and surveyed the scene. Then he spotted the compressed truck and extended his middle finger at it, and then, turning to Vika, he gave her a thumbs up.

* * *

“Not bad tea, by the way,” the emperor assessed the aromatic steaming beverage in his cup. “Where is it from?”

“From China, of course,” his head of clandestine operatives smiled.

“We need to order some more of this,” nodded the emperor. “Well then, have you anything to report?”

“Yunusov has fled, and we are now awaiting your orders to commence action,” said the gray man.

“What about the Healer?”

“He turned out to be quite the hardy one,” chuckled the gray man. “He not only survived, he’s headed for a full recovery. He’s already been discharged, and now he’s returning home.”

“That’s good news, indeed!” nodded the emperor. “I hope he won’t be flying out of the same hotel? Despite that adage about a missile never hitting the same target twice, we can’t say that this applies to Bulatov. He’s a magnet for attacks, that one.”

“No, of course we’re taking measures!” exclaimed the gray man. “We’re taking full responsibility to ensure he’s safe. He’ll take off from the Imperial Airfield, and this time we’ll make sure he flies out of here fully intact.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty!” an assistant entered the room and gave a slight bow. “I have news.”

“Hah! Let me guess, about Bulatov again?” the emperor gave a grim chuckle, but then, seeing his assistant’s face he lost any hint of mirth.

“Another attempt was made on Bulatov’s life,” said the assistant.

“I hope that this time they succeeded,” said the gray man, exasperated, and the emperor choked on his tea. “Sorry, that just slipped out.”

“You can see it all for yourself,” said the assistant, drawing near and presenting them with a tablet showing a compilation of CCTV footage from the area, including from the cars accompanying the SUV carrying Bulatov. They could see the armored, mangled vehicle burning.

“You’re not going to tell me that Bulatov was in that burning car?” frowned the emperor, and his assistant sighed and said, “Keep on watching, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t you think that given he was in the capital for all of two days this is a little much?” The emperor tried to make out what was going on in the assassins’ van, but due to the fire and the smoke it wasn’t possible.

“Well, perhaps...” the gray man sighed, “but since he became the Family head there have been seventy-three attempts on his life. That’s why I told you that he’s remarkably tenacious.”

“Wait, he became an aristocrat a mere six months ago,” the emperor said, and his companion simply threw up his hands.

“Less than six months ago, Your Majesty! Not even half a year has passed!”

“You know what? Have it reported on the news that Yunusov is behind both the first and second assassination attempts. And then send my guards after him,” he said, and paused before adding, “The first and second special battalions should suffice.”

“The Punishers?” asked the gray man.

“Don’t call them that. They don’t like it,” chuckled the emperor.

“Oh!” exclaimed the gray man, pointing at the screen. “Look! Look at that! He’s crawling out of the car! He’s alive!”

Chapter 12

“NO! I REFUSE TO GO anywhere! Back off!” shouted Bulatov, his nails dug into the asphalt.

“But Count Bulatov, we must take you to the hospital!” The two doctors were trying to strong-arm their pig-headed patient.

All of this was taking place under the rather amused glances of the soldiers, who’d cordoned off the entire block and had the residents in surrounding apartments shut their curtains and draw their blinds. And there was a din throughout the streets of the capital as sirens blared and armored vehicles and tanks raced up and down the thoroughfares, not to mention military and reconnaissance aircraft flying about in the skies, along with a multitude of drones. This kind of show of force was rarely seen in the capital. It’s not that it never happened, but it was a rare occurrence, and on top of all else, this was the second time in a single week that an emergency of this scale was taking place. The aim was to find the accomplices in the assassination attempt before they left the city; and any witnesses had to be questioned, evidence needed to be collected, and, most importantly, they had to ensure that yet another attempt on Bulatov’s life did not transpire.

“That guy must be afraid of doctors,” said a senior investigator taking a drag off a cigarette and nodding towards Bulatov. He’d been one of the first to arrive at the crime scene.

“Or it might be a fear of injections,” shuddered his colleague as he watched the doctors and their henchmen finally succeed in pulling Bulatov down the street.

“I’m a busy man! Nurik needs to be fed!” shouted Bulatov, and then busted loose. After that, he scuttled back into the burning car.

But there were now firefights at the scene, and their water mage quickly put the fire out with a torrent of water. And then the doctors again chased after the patient.

“But you might die!” exclaimed one of them. “Give him a sedative!”

The doctors and orderlies then grabbed the count again and, quickly loading him onto a stretcher, rushed him towards the ambulance.

“Bastards!” Bulatov cursed. “I’m fine! Look, my legs work now! See?!” And he again tried to get up as one of them was distracted by his shenanigans. But the orderlies weren’t as easily fooled; they were used to restraining less than cooperative patients.

Thus, a few seconds later, with sirens wailing and wheels screeching the ambulance rushed toward the Imperial Hospital.

* * *

“Count Bulatov,” the senior doctor was amazed as he looked at my test results. “You were born under a lucky star! It’s incredible!”

“Yes, that’s right!” I nodded. “Like I said, I feel great.”

“But how? First they blasted a hole through your chest, and then they basically incinerated you in that vehicle! Where are your burns?”

“Artifacts,” I said, throwing up my hands. In fact, this was my go-to explanation for all occasions, as the knowledge about them in this world was sparse. I could say whatever I wanted, and nobody would know if it was true or not.

“Just the same, we need to keep you under observation for a couple of weeks,” he said, snapping the folder shut and giving me a sober look. “And rest assured, count! You’ll be under the care of the best Healers. If you take a turn for the worse, we’ll be here to provide immediate assistance.”

“You do know that I, too, am a Healer,” I noted.

“Of course, there is a lot of talk about your talents in medical circles,” he smiled, but I didn’t like the sound of that at all. What did that mean—”a lot of talk”? I’d been doing my best to avoid being the topic of conversation. “But this might be beyond your abilities. We not only have the personnel in case of the unexpected, we also have state-of-the-art technology here.”

“Just the same, I refuse to stay,” I sighed. “I’ve got a lot to deal with, and that means matters that needed addressing yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, but I simply must insist you stay, at least until authorized persons show up and okay your leaving. The emperor himself has made it clear that a certain protocol must be followed,” he spread his hands apologetically.

Okay, half an hour. That much I could give them. At least they served excellent food in this place. Not that this was a surprise. After all, the people who sought care here were the elite, individuals of exceptional importance to the Empire, including the emperor himself, as well as his family.

And so I indulged in some treats, had a spot of tea and even sampled some wine while chatting with Victoria, and the time flew by. It seemed that she’d finally given up on worrying about my safety all the time and was now totally carefree. And she didn’t even mention that attack she’d launched, where she’d wiped my would-be assassins off the face of the earth. All she did was give a little laugh and a shrug, saying she’d freaked out a little.

Yes indeed, some freak-out. I would say that she’d doubled her rank by now, and had risen to the level of a Senior Mage. She was a most intimidating woman now, of course. A terror. But no, not even under torture would I tell her this.

“Count Bulatov!” Several powerful soldiers from the Imperial Guard entered the room. “I am Aristarkh Dmitrievich Plevanov, Commander of the Special Division for the Protection of the Imperial Family!” announced one of the, standing at attention and saluting. “I am here at the behest of the emperor to ensure your safety!”

Seriously, could they do any more to inspire me to flee this place to the safety of Arkhangelsk? That is exactly what I wanted to do.

While the man in armor was introducing himself, another dozen fighters and several men from clandestine operations, including their boss, also entered the room. The gray man was incredibly easy to overlook, but I knew his heartbeat by now, and thus, I was able to take notice of him. His was an interesting Gift, by the way. It didn’t make him invisible, but it did make him hard to pay any attention to whatsoever.

“Do you think you can handle a third assassination attempt?” I laughed. “I’m thinking that it’s inevitable, despite it all.”

“Count Bulatov, I swear on my honor that I will not allow any more attempts on your life!” shouted Plevanov, and the gray man slapped himself on the forehead.

“Oh, you idiot…” he drawled. “Aristarkh, in the last few months there have already been seventy-three attempts on the count’s life.”

“Actually, eighty-nine, but who’s counting,” I said with a dismissive gesture, and the gray man’s eyes widened. “I’m only talking about the attempts that have actually occurred. We’re not counting any that have been prevented from taking place, are we?”

Judging by his expression, yet again I’d said too much. However, as they like to say here, if the barn burns down, the house burns too. I had nothing left to lose, in effect. I’d revealed a great deal to the emperor and his entourage, and I couldn’t undo that. They knew more about me than I’d like them to know, but thus far, it didn’t seem to be a problem. At least it hadn’t been until that fast move of the emperor’s when he threw that ball in my honor and made me a household name. I should send him hiccups or come up with something new. I couldn’t shake the thought of conjuring up something like reverse digestion. Really, if properly implemented, it would greatly increase the accuracy of the pigeons’ bombs.

I looked at how pale Plevanov was now. He’d already vowed to protect me, but that was before he knew how many people wanted me dead.

“Okay, Plevanov,” the gray man clapped him on the shoulder. “Go now, and get your men ready.”

“Yes, I might end up calling for reinforcements. How about it? Can I ask some of your men to help?” he asked, and the gray man blanched, but Plevanov went on, “Like, have them stationed along the route, maybe?”

“They’ve been stationed out there for two days already,” the gray man smiled, and then he sat down opposite Vika and me. “I would like it if you and the countess traveled separately. I can guarantee her safety and will personally accompany her.”

“Why with her and not with me?” I chuckled.

“Well, the emperor needs me,” he responded. “And, with all due respect, you’re too dangerous to be around for any length of time.”

“No!” Vika shook her head. “I’m not going to leave Mikhail’s side,” she said, taking my hand and squeezing it so hard that my bones crunched.

Actually, smart girl. Despite the routine attempts to kill me, anyway, she was safer with me. I would never let her die. I’d pull out all the stops if I had to, even if that entailed unleashing all of my remaining seals in public.

“I dare not try to talk you out of your elected course of action,” nodded the gray man. “Your car awaits you downstairs! Just come down whenever you’re ready.”

“Why so many tanks, though?” I said, looking out the window now.

“Ha! You haven’t even noticed what’s up in the sky!” he smiled as he activated his Gift. But to his surprise I still took notice of him. True, that was just for a second. Then I turned away and pretended not to see him. Yes, what he possessed was almost a sort of mental magic that made you forget he was there and take no notice of him. An intriguing Gift, that, and very useful for his elected field. No wonder he’d risen to the top.

But he was right. A lot was going on up in the sky. Helicopters, drones, even a combat airship hovered over the city. Those airships, by the way, were rather uncommon combat aircraft. In fact, they functioned more as airfields for smaller combat planes, and also helicopters.

But even if the hull was clad in protective armor, airships could be easily shot down. Just the same, looking at it, I wanted one of my own. That one up there was many times the size of my castle, and that included the territory within the surrounding wall. It was huge! Gargantuan! Where would I put it? But despite the downsides, I wanted one.

“Ready?” I smiled at Victoria and offered her my burnt hand. She gasped as she looked at the peeling skin, which was now falling off. Out with the dead, in with the new! Yes, my new skin looked great.

“So do you think we’ll make it home this time?” she asked. Victoria was putting on a brave face, but deep down she was worried.

“It’s just a matter of time, Vika...we’ll get there,” I said thoughtfully as we left the room.

* * *

Some time later

Kurchatov’s estate

“It’s over, over, over…” The count sat at his desk, watching a video on his tablet, and repeating the same thing. “It’s a fail...”

The footage he was watching was shot recently in the very center of the capital, and then swiftly transmitted to the count so that he could cancel the operation at the last moment should he so desire. In just another minute, the mechanism would have been launched.

“But it was close…” Kurchatov sighed, watching Bulatov leave the hospital accompanied by the Imperial Guards. Hundreds of the strongest fighters, armed with the latest technology. A veritable army extended in a long column of machinery and combat vehicles that slowly headed towards the airfield.

Kurchatov realized that had he not aborted the assassination attempt he might have found himself in serious hot water. And his best fighters, which he’d sent to the capital in advance, would have been wiped out in a matter of moments given what they’d have been up against. But his intelligence operatives had alerted him to the close surveillance by the emperor’s operatives, both official and clandestine. Every step Bulatov took now was being closely monitored, and it would be virtually impossible to get near him unnoticed.

“But what a well-thought-out plan it was…” the count sighed heavily as soon as he finished watching the video. “Kill this upstart and put all the blame on Yunusov. And then, life would be beautiful!”

* * *

Meanwhile

Grishanovs’ mansion

“I have to refuse!” said the voice at the other end of the line, and then he cut the call.

“Damn you! How dare you?” screamed young Grishanov into the receiver. “I already paid you! You’re to complete the job!”

And he railed at the dead receiver for a while longer, and then he collapsed into his chair and put his face in his hands.

“What good does your shouting do? They took a look and turned away,” said his sister walking into the room. “It’s not like there’s no one else willing to do the job.”

“Ha! You don’t get it, do you? That was far from my first pick!” screamed her brother. “They’ve all refused!”

“Wow,” said his sister, and they both spent some time reveling in outrage at how hired killers nowadays had no balls. All he’d wanted was to have one person killed in the busy streets of the capital, and he’d offered double, then triple the usual fee. But no, everyone, without exception, initially agreed, and then they’d called back fifteen minutes later to tell him they’d changed their minds.

“Somebody out there will do it! Hey! Father had a special phone book with all of the very best hit men,” exclaimed Grishanov Jr., and rushed over to the safe. “Right! Here it is!” and he tossed a thin black book onto the table. Actually, it was like a little notebook with pages covered in the even, neat handwriting of Grishanov Sr. “Maybe we should hire the Ghost...He’s the best! He’d get it done!”

And young Grishanov wasted no time calling the Ghost’s number, but to no avail. Apparently his, Grishanov’s, number was blocked.

“No go,” sighed Grishanov Jr. “Okay, there are lots of others to choose from, especially in the capital. How about the Shadow?” he looked at his sister, but she just shrugged. “Well, according to father he’s one of the best,” he muttered and quickly dialed the number.

“You should get your head out of the sand and check out the news from time to time,” said their distant relative as he walked into the room. This was their father’s cousin, and he was staying until the baron had recovered, and, until then, he was making sure these two youngsters didn’t do anything too terribly stupid. “Nobody is willing to kill Bulatov, not today, anyway. But hey, you might want to give it a go all on your own,” he said, throwing his tablet onto the table with the newscast on. Young Grishanov blanched as he watched the footage.

“This is the Shadow,” said a slightly hoarse voice through the receiver. “I can eliminate anyone for the right price. It’ll cost you!” And then he paused before adding, “Actually, almost anyone. I am not accepting orders to kill Bulatov today.”

* * *

“No, no! It wasn’t me, not me!” Yunusov shouted at the television screen. “Idiots! There’s no connection to me!”

“…of course, there is no doubt that the second attempt was again carried out by Duke Yunusov...” the newscaster continued.

“What?! It wasn’t Yunusov, you freaks!” roared the duke, and threw the remote control at the TV so hard that the screen shattered and went dark.

“This is based on the accounts of eyewitnesses,” he heard the anchor’s voice, as if she was mocking him. “Multiple attendees at the emperor’s ball in honor of the count allege that he swore he’d exterminate the entire Bulatov Family, and it appears that he got right down to business. That very day is when the first attempt was made on the count’s life. A sniper shot Bulatov straight in the back, but thanks to his skills as a Healer, he recovered surprisingly quickly! An incredibly tenacious man, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, as hardy as a cockroach in a dump truck!” snarled Yunusov, reaching around for something else to throw at the television.

“And don’t forget to check out our website where you can actually see live footage of this latest assassination attempt!” Right away Yunusov grabbed his phone and went online to see for himself what had happened. His rage, though, powerful, was surpassed by his curiosity.

And what he saw were vivid shots of explosions, a burning car, more shots, and a response from the Necromancer. The audience especially enjoyed the way the huge, black, smoky, necrotic hand crushed the van and everyone in it.

“A very temperamental girl, I must say,” the anchor chuckled. “Ladies, watch out! Even though polygamy is permitted in our Empire, if Countess Bulatov turns out to be the jealous type... well, you’d better look elsewhere. I know that I wouldn’t risk it.”

And then Bulatov hauled himself out of the mangled, burning wreck of a car, rolled over onto his back and flipped the bird at the would-be assassins’ crushed van. At this, the chat section for the broadcast suddenly exploded with hundreds, than thousands of comments! Most of them were brief and to the point: “#BulatovFlipsBird”

“Right. Word had it that the Family was on its last legs, close to dying out,” laughed the anchor. “Looks to me like the doomsayers spoke too soon.” And just then the video showed Mikhail standing up and shaking off the dust and soot. “He showed them the bird, and now he’s brushing himself off!” laughed the anchor.

“Oh, but Bulatov is finished, most definitely so,” muttered Yunusov through clenched teeth. “I’ll make sure of it...”

“Another thing, viewers, who was it who said that Healers are wimps? Well? If that’s the case, then don’t you agree that what we’re seeing is the birth of a legend? Seriously, viewers! Weigh in on this in the comments section!”

* * *

Home sweet home...Unlike in the capital I could breathe free and easy here. Not that I didn’t face plenty of attempts on my life even here. That kind of thing was business as usual, actually. And, in fact, the occurrence of attacks was, if anything, on an upward trajectory. But really, who did I upset so much that they sent out contract killers to take me out?

“Who could it be?” I scratched the back of my head as I gazed out the window at my new combat landing plane. Thus far it still needed repairs, but at least they’d painted over the Rubenstein Family’s coat of arms.

Once back home, Vika had headed for her chambers to try on her new outfits, and I headed off to our command center to get the latest updates on goings on out there. Of course, the first person I encountered was a disgruntled Chernomor. He was offended that I’d left him behind, and was certain that this is precisely why I’d almost been killed, not once, but twice.

“Uh-huh, as if you could have stopped these assassination attempts,” I said, gesturing dismissively.

“But I could have! Don’t you remember? I am the Defender! I live to protect you!” exclaimed Nur-gal, jumping up from his chair. What was he doing here in the command center?

“With you around we need still more attackers! A lot more,” I chuckled. “For now, keep on defending the castle.”

“But I am!” he said. “I saved everyone from the flying tube!”

“Flying tube?”

“Just ignore him, Mikhail,” Chernomor shook his head. “That’s what he calls missiles.”

“Missiles? What missiles?” I was even more surprised.

“It’s a long story…” Chernomor sighed. “You should just read the reports. There’s an entire stack of them for you.”

And, indeed, just then a guardsman thunked a pile of heavy folders down on the table in front of me. In fact, before we left for the capital Vika had told Georgy to compile all the data on various projects into graphs and tables, and to also carry out the necessary studies on the new school. We still had a lot of work left before we could enroll students, but at least the teachers were all settled into their new apartments.

And what could be gleaned from the other reports? I quickly leafed through them to see how much stone we were mining, how our construction work was progressing, and I also read about how the resettlement of people to villages was going. I must say, our various projects were moving along at a great pace. I hadn’t been devoting as much attention to providing work for our peasants, so it was great that Georgy and Vika had taken this task upon themselves. They’d found lots of opportunities for our people to work, and they’d done a fine job of it.

They’d parceled out well-paid work in the mines, and also in the orchards and many gardens, and other peasants were happily tending to our poultry and livestock. And now, with the onset of warm weather, we could employ the agricultural workers and roll out the new combines and other special farm machinery. Overall, we were making great progress on feeding the people, not that we’d met all our needs. However, according to Georgy, if our Druids kept up the good work, it wouldn’t be long before we could call this issued resolved.

“We’ve created farms in a village we set up for the offworlders, and also here,” Georgy indicated where on a map, having just arrived at the command center. “And that’s a huge field. They have plenty of poultry and a functioning dairy, not to mention the sheep, which are also providing them with wool. And if we see that this village can maintain self-sufficiency, we’ll repeat the setup in the rest of the settlements.”

“Why wait?” I asked. “Plow the land! Establish the farms in the other villages where we’ve settled the offworlders. Otherwise they’ll all become freeloaders, used to living off of free food.”

It didn’t matter which world they lived in, people were all the same. I got it. Why work if you could be fed for free? It wasn’t that the offworlders were lazy; it was simply human nature. Incidentally, that’s what was behind invention—laziness. Once upon a time someone got sick and tired of carrying manure about in his hands, so the wheel was invented, and then the wheelbarrow and then carts. In my world, magic methods were invented to deal with manure. However, the end goal was the same. Nobody wanted to handle it with their hands.

“By the way, now that the big Interface has passed and all of the portals have closed, we’ve got a new problem,” said Georgy. “We need to call the auctioneers.”

“What’s this about?”

“You’d better see for yourself,” he said, and off we went to our gallery and the storage center for trophies to be sold and...yes, it looked like a whole lot of junk. Mountains of weapons, and sets of armor, offworld bags, and all kinds of rubbish. From somewhere in the recesses of all this I could hear Timothy swearing. “All of this is trash. We should separate the valuables from the rest,” sighed Georgy.

“Okay, I’ll call the auctioneers,” I said. “But what’s going on with the prisoners?”

“Don’t ask me. That’s something between you and Chernomor,” said Georgy, immediately making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with it. And then he went to see what Timothy was swearing about.

I, in turn, went back to see Chernomor, and, in fact, he had some news for me. He’d been focused on gathering intelligence through our reconnaissance network while I’d been in the capital. Our pigeons had been scouting out anything of interest in territories occupied by the offworlders; they’d used the maps procured from the offworlders, and they’d found several tempting targets. Six of the targets looked like good places to raid.

“By the way, there was a breakthrough at the front while you were gone,” said Chernomor, indicating where on the map. Good news, that. I’d thought that our defense was lagging, but I guess not. In fact, two Families had retaken territory near Severodvinsk and even dug in there. They now had a network of trenches in place, along with artillery, and brought in more forces. But they hadn’t been able to move in any closer to the city yet. Chernomor showed me the footage from our pigeon reconnaissance. The aristocrats couldn’t get through two large camps of offworlders.

“Why don’t they blast them with artillery?” I asked. “Is it that they’d prefer to take offworld prisoners rather than kill them?”

“No, it’s the protection employed at those camps. Take a closer look; it’s impenetrable,” said Chernomor, showing me some close-up footage. And yes, what I discerned was a magic dome, and a rather interesting one at that. “They pounded it with heavy artillery for twenty-four hours, but to no effect.”

“Hmm...pause the video,” I said. I’d noticed something strange. “Back up a couple of seconds...Stop!” I looked closely at the picture, and then smiled. “Do we have footage of when the shelling started?”

“Yes, of course,” Chernomor quickly put it on, and I knew for sure now.

“Congratulations! We now have a couple of truly powerful mages visiting our world. One is a Magister of Protective Magic, at the very least,” I said, patting Chernomor on the shoulder.

“What the hell is that?” he frowned.

“Mages of that caliber have tremendous stores of energy. But on the downside, it takes them a long time to replenish it when they run out,” I said thoughtfully. “Most likely they’ve got something like fifty other mages working in tandem with him by flooding him with energy.”

“So all we have to do is take him out, and be done with it,” shrugged Chernomor.

“Or else we could get him drunk!” said Belmore.

“He’s located in the offworld, and he’s feeding the dome through a portal. That’s the primary advantage of a protection mage,” I said, thinking about the ramifications of this. “But I’m liking the way you think.”

“In the meanwhile, more troops, including Imperial Forces, with more powerful shells, will soon be arriving,” Chernomor scratched his beard.

“Let them,” I waved my hand. “Get together two hundred of our men and we’ll fly there ourselves.”

“What kind of artillery do we need? Heavy equipment, explosives, Combat Suits? What’s the plan?”

“Bring some loaders...and free up as much space on the plane as possible,” I smiled. “We’re flying after trophy prisoners, not out for blood.”

The whole way there Chernomor pestered me with questions about why we were flying behind enemy lines with practically no weapons, and he did his best to dissuade me. He noted that I hadn’t yet rested up after the escapades in the capital, and I might be acting too hastily now. As if I could feel the need to rest anymore. I’d spent days in the hospital, precious time when I could have been collecting and handing over prisoners.

We followed a pigeon as we flew at low altitude over enemy lands. Our pigeon ensured that we stayed out of the visual and hearing range of offworld patrols, and soon we landed in a remote clearing in the middle of a dense forest. And then, within half an hour our lightly armed detachment approached the protective dome.

Yes, now I was absolutely certain that this was the work of a protection mage. Not that I’d often come across them, as in my old world we didn’t have much use for them. I passed my hand over the dome and felt for the mage’s energy imprint, and then I sat down on a stump to think about what to do with what I’d just learned.

“May I?” Chernomor nodded towards the dome, and I shrugged, “But of course!”

He then walked up to the dome, activated his Gift, and hit it with all his might. We heard the sound of the impact, but that was it. No change at all to the magic shield. It was as if not even a fly had hit it. Then Chernomor took out his cleaver and, concentrating his strength in it, dealt another blow. But this, too, produced no result. Chernomor stubbornly kept at it for half an hour, until, exhausted, he collapsed on the ground panting.

“It’s hopeless!” he wheezed. “That shield is inviolable! All we’ve done by coming here is waste our time and burn up fuel.”

“Don’t you want to give it a try?” I asked Nur-gal, surprising him.

“Me? Mikhail, surely you jest! Don’t you remember? What I am is a Defender. How can you expect me to attack a protective dome?” he said, shaking his head. “No, my mission is to protect!”

“Well, let me show you how it’s done,” said Belmore, almost sneering at Chernomor. “Watch me, old man!” And spreading his arms, streams of black sticky goo started to flow from his hands. He directed it all at the dome and it began to cover the sides, and in a few minutes it had coated close to a hundred meters of the surface.

Then, silence reigned for a minute or two, after which the black liquid began to take shape into gnarled hands that dug into the shields, clawing at it in an attempt to rip through it. Meanwhile, the Necromancer poured more and more power into the spell, complex symbols appeared above him, woven as if from darkness and a sphere comprising several runic ligatures encircled him.

All in vain. “No, it’s not going to work,” sighed Belmore, dispelling all of his handiwork in a flash. “That dome is powered by life, vital force. And thus, death cannot gnaw through it.” And then he collapsed on the soft moss next to Chernomor. “What can I say? That protection mage knows his stuff. On the other hand, the offworlders in that dome cannot leave.”

“And why should they?” I walked up to the dome and again examined it. “The mage could create a small passage, and that would be easy to defend. Once enough reinforcements arrive, he’ll suddenly remove the dome, and they’ll all be ready to attack with all their might. That, in fact, is what these domes are good for. It lets all those inside calmly go about preparing for the big attack while resting up and not stressing over their personal safety. The shield is, in fact, powered by vital energy, which means that he’s a competent mage, just like Belmore said. But not strong enough.”

“Mikhail, with all due respect, do you really think you can bust through this dome? With vital energy?” chuckled Belmore. “Yes, you are the greatest Healer I’ve ever seen. But… this is impossible!”

“I agree,” I smiled and placed both palms on the dome. “Healers cannot, in fact, break this kind of spell. But I’ll still examine it for awhile while you rest up.”

For two hours I stood with my eyes closed and, while expending a minuscule amount of energy I generated a barely discernible change in the energy dome. I didn’t even need to use much power, as I knew I couldn’t actually break through it. Even if I was in my former body, I’d be wasting my time to try.

*Clap!*

“Oh! All done!” I smiled, taking a step back.

Right away the guardsmen leaped to their feet with weapons ready, and Chernomor ran up to me.

“What, did you break through?” he asked, passing his hand through where the insurmountable barrier had been.

“No, it’s not the dome I eliminated. It’s the mage,” I chuckled. “Of course, without him, there is no dome. What kind of idiot do you have to be to power a barrier with your life force? Of course, it was tens of times stronger that way, but he directly linked himself to his spell, and all I can do is lament the short-sightedness of that powerful, offworld mage.”

“And what? So he was linked to the spell, big deal,” Chernomor was confused. Belmore, in contrast, was rolling around on the ground laughing almost hysterically.

“So I introduced my power into the barrier, then with the help of the repeater installed in it, I reached the mage himself. I gave him such a bad case of the hiccups that he choked to death,” I shrugged. Yes, this was a new twist to a boring spell—I’d made the hiccups downright lethal. But really, it wasn’t rocket science.

“Prepare for battle!” Chernomor didn’t seem to hear me. “We should have brought along some artillery power,” he complained. “We could unleash a barrage of firepower on them!”

“Calm down now,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Why are you shouting??

“First platoon, assume your positions! We’ll be employing the 7th attack plan!” he was still shouting.

“No attack plan for me,” Nur-gal shook his head. “Is there no defense plan?”

“Chernomor, stop shouting,” I stood there and smiled. “What’s the fuss?”

“What do you mean what’s the fuss?” Chernomor was indignant. “We need to go on the attack while the enemy is defenseless!”

“They’re all sleeping, so why disturb them?”

He still didn’t get my point, so I decided to show him. We silently made our way to the offworld camp, and sure enough, everyone was sleeping. This included the sentries who stood guard, and also the patrols. They’d all fallen asleep on the ground where they’d been standing.

Actually, that’s why I’d spent two entire hours at the dome. I not only had to take out the mage, I had to penetrate the camp via the dome’s energy structure. I used it to transmit my energy. This enabled me to employ an enhanced sleep spell which I deployed all over the camp. I could provide the details so that Chernomor fully understood, but why? It would take too long, and anyway, it was boring stuff. It might sound simple, making someone sleepy, but it was a complicated business.

“So...” Chernomor rubbed his eyes, still not believing what he saw. “What now?”

“We load them into the plane,” I said, spreading my hands. “As quickly and quietly as possible.”

“Just like that? Won’t they wake up?”

“No, Chernomor,” I again patted him on the shoulder, “and we must hurry. There’s someone not far away who is more powerful than the now-defunct protection mage. So we need to get out of here before he shows up.”

“As long as you’re with us, we’re not afraid,” Chernomor chuckled.

“Ha!” I laughed. “Then I’ll let you fight the Archdruid; I myself don’t want to mess with him.”

Chernomor began to say something, but as he droned on I found myself sinking into a memory from my past life. Once, I’d incurred a scratch from a prickly chamomile, and it festered for twelve days. It was only then that I began to emerge from the delirium I’d been in. And I found myself hundreds of kilometers from where I’d been infected by the noxious poison of the vile flower. I had no idea how I’d ended up there. But my takeaway from the experience was clear, and that was that I had better not ever run afoul of one of these Archdruids, nor befriend any of them. In fact, my best course of action was to avoid them at all costs.

True, at that time I wasn’t yet an Archmagister, but just the same, even now I knew one thing for sure. I knew not to cross paths with these vile creatures, not if I could avoid it. And even worse than fighting an Archdruid was drinking with one. That is when true evil, pure and unadulterated, would surface! I saw with my own eyes how a powerful ancient dragon returned to his cliffside abode burping lava for two days straight after accepting a tincture from one of these foul Archdruids.

Chapter 13

WHAT I REALLY DISLIKED was seeing all of the peacefully sleeping offworlders we had to leave behind. But we had no choice. It would be far too risky to come back for them, and unfortunately, we could only fit so many of them into the plane. As it was, we’d already made several trips. And we had to unload the offworld prisoners on the very outskirts of my lands, near the border. From there, we had more of my men meet us, transfer the prisoners to buses, vans and trucks, and then they’d be prepared them for the cash for prisoners program. What this entailed was making them look presentable.

I had no doubt that offworld reinforcements would be showing up at the camp, and soon. The portal, located in the center of the camp, was under the complete control of a fairly competent mage, and all this time it was filled with energy. So I wasn’t able to close it, although I did manage to create some interference that stopped them from showing up any sooner.

“Eh…” I sighed, “time to call it a day. We’d better get out of here now.”

“But we still have room on the plane!” Chernomor exclaimed. “We could fit in a hundred or so more of them.”

“And not take off,” I said, striding over to the plane. I knew this because by now the offworlders had stabilized the portal, and soon the first reinforcements would make an appearance.

Yes, I know my way around these Interface portals. But the fact is that I am a Healer, not a spatial mage. Thus, I couldn’t work wonders with these spatial artifacts.

Noticing that I wasn’t wasting time heading for the plane, the guards realized that they’d better get on board on the double. In fact, they set off toward the plane at breakneck speed, although they didn’t neglect grabbing who they could along the way. One guy was carting two sleeping offworlders on his shoulders, and another was dragging a tent with prisoners inside, and a big guy was lugging a big chest filled with even more prisoners. But within a minute every one of the men was on board, and the plane struggled to lift off, but prevailed.

“Did we have to leave in such a hurry?” sighed Chernomor looking out of the window. Down on the ground several hundred small trees appeared around the portal. And they grew tall and strong right then and there, and in minutes, the camp itself was replaced with a full-fledged forest. It was impossible to tell that a camp full of tents and sleeping soldiers had been there mere hours ago. I hoped that those trees hadn’t swallowed them up. What a waste of potential revenue for me should that be the case.

“So then, seeing that sudden forest, you still have questions?” I asked Chernomor, but he just shrugged. “What you’re looking at down there would be difficult to occupy,” I added.

“But it’s just a forest.”

“That’s a druidic forest!” I said, indicating the dense thickets that rose some twenty meters high.

“So what? It’s still just a forest,” he said. Right. I needed to write up some informational booklets for Chernomor so that he could learn a thing or two about magic. Belmore got it. Hearing Chernomor, he slapped himself on the forehead out of shame for the old fool.

“That,” he said, pointing at the lush greenery, “is a Druid’s forest. Don’t you understand?”

“I do,” nodded Chernomor. “You pour gasoline all over a tree, and then you set it on fire. The tree burns, the Druid gets upset, and drowns his sorrows in his hooch. And the next thing you know is that we acquire yet another Druid who signs a contract while under the influence.”

“You’ve finally learned how to hire valuable employees,” I nodded approvingly. “But you lack even a basic understanding of magic.”

But as they say, ignorance is bliss. It makes life easy, and the less you know, the more sense it makes. To Chernomor it was simple. If it’s a tree, that means it burns; if it’s a forest, that means those are lots and lots of trees that can burn.

We reached the castle, and while the others were busy processing the prisoners, I went down to the command center. No, I had no plans to storm the fortifications erected by the Druid, but I still wanted to study it. So I sent a few pigeons there to film the forest from a close distance and show Chernomor how the druidic forest differed from a run of the mill one.

“Mikhail, I certainly don’t doubt your knowledge, and I know that you understand magic better than all of us put together,” Chernomor looked at the screen attentively for a while, but the forest still failed to impress him. “But to me, that looks like an ordinary forest. That’s a spruce tree, and there’s a birch. Yes, this forest is dense, but just the same, a person could bust through those thickets.”

“Innokenty,” I called our viscount in charge of pigeon communications. Of course, the pigeons knew full well that I was actually their boss, but that I’d entrusted Innokenty with their oversight. “Do any of the scouts have explosives on them?”

“Yes, we always send two, just in case,” he nodded. “Our scouts always finds interesting targets, so we want them to have the ability to immediately blow them up.”

Nice to know. I nodded my approval. I liked how our pigeon detachment was evolving; they were definitely adding more strategies to their arsenal and were therefore more effective.

“Have one of them drop a shell down onto a random tree. But they should do this from way high up above it,” I said, and stared at the screen.

The explosive amulet flew right onto the crown of a maple tree, there was a flash, and a blast thundered. But once the smoke cleared, what we saw was the tree, strong and tall and completely intact.

“Well, what do you say now? An ordinary forest, eh?” I smiled.

“Yes, that’s a strong tree, I can’t argue,” he said, clearly struggling with his thoughts. “But...”

“But if the pigeon were a hundred meters lower, this tree would have plucked all its feathers,” I chuckled, “and that’s the best case scenario…”

In actuality, the tree wouldn’t pluck the pigeon. It would just string the poor bird on its branches where it would consume it to procure nutrients to enable it to flourish, grow stronger. I could tell from the footage that this Archdruid wasn’t just strong; he was also smart. He knew where to place combat plants, and he was using all of his trees and shrubs to full advantage. He also knew his weak spots.

“You suggested using fuel to burn this forest,” I recalled. “Well, you could try. But let me say right away that fire would be useless in that forest. At least as long as the creator of this forest was looking after it.”

I wasn’t going to clue Chernomor in on what was going on underground in this forest. For him it was better that he stay ignorant of this. Anyway, I could tell by his expression that I’d at least convinced him not to go there.

But what lay underground was a network of roots that branched out and united into a single control node. This is what enabled the Archdruid to keep so many trees and bushes under control. Even the grass in this forest could do great damage to any interlopers. Not to mention poisonous flowers, and incredibly strong vines that could easily strangle entire detachments of fighters. And the trees varied in terms of what they could do. Some could crush a person with their mighty branches, while the slender trees were swift and precise in their attacks. They could, for example, pierce a man with their thin branches and twigs.

So, generally speaking, just don’t. Don’t go there, don’t bother with it. Leave it to someone else. Let them unleash their artillery, and fire shells by the wagonload. Sooner or later the Archdruid will get tired of this and go home... to drink.

“Sir, may I ask a question?” asked one of the pigeon operators. He was apparently impressed by my tale about the druidic forest. “Theoretically, what would your chances be against an Archdruid?”

“Well, that depends on a diverse array of factors,” I said. “Sure, in the past I could’ve taken one on, not that it would ever be easy. They’re a truly unpleasant adversary .Druids are capable even of killing higher-ranking opponents. He could toss a seed of debauchery at them, and game over!”

“But what about if you’re no longer able to enjoy debauchery?” asked Chernomor. “You know, your gun doesn’t, er, fire like it used to.”

“We have pills for those who can no longer indulge in debauchery,” I laughed. “But what a seed of debauchery does is turn everything upside down in your body, and so your “tool” will end up where you least expect it. In short, it might be located where you produce, er, ‘fertilizer.’”

In any case, I’ll be leaving that Druid alone now that he’s settled in there. I was no longer interested in that former camp. We had plenty of other interesting prospects on the map.

I had my staff handle the prisoners, but I knew from my visit to the office handling the exchange that it was on the level. Just to be sure, though, I still imprinted the Bulatov coat of arms onto the flesh of the prisoners, and dressed them in coveralls bearing a patch with our coat of arms. As they say, better safe than sorry.

And I called up the auctioneers to again summon some appraisers, who for some reason seemed to have lost some of their enthusiasm. That didn’t bode well, because we hadn’t even started selling off the truly valuable items. We had in storage expensive gold-plated weapons and paintings, not to mention lots and lots of other items. Most of the trophies we’d taken from the triple lord’s castle had yet to be sold. Although I have to say that the prisoners were bringing in good money, and with them we didn’t have to bother with this process of auctioning trophies off. This time, we were able to exchange over a thousand offworlders, and for this we procured the tidy sum of one and a half million rubles which were dropped into our Family account.

And now, I sat in my study sipping top shelf, energy-infused offworld wine, pondering this and that. What had happened in our foray at the capital was potentially problematic. We’d revealed too much; we should have kept ourselves in check. Indeed, all this time I’d struggled to keep my own abilities under wraps, not reveal my awesomeness, but when push comes to shove, my best efforts would go out the window. That being said, worlds may differ, but the problems inherent in them were always the same. For example, wars. They were almost always over women.

And this was my problem right now. Whenever I brought Vika along, trouble always followed. But I had no cause for complaint, no. Victoria was exceptionally beautiful. It used to be that she’d stay put in the castle, not reveal her exceptional beauty, and with good reason. Had she paraded around before I showed up, the Bulatovs might not have survived. And I’m not going to kid myself. Even I had to ramp up my restraint mechanisms and keep a close eye on my hormones.

But yes, the day would come when we needed to think about, well, a permanent partnership. I couldn’t keep myself bottled up forever, after all, and were I to lose it, well...

*Diling!*

My musings were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a message. I glanced at the screen and saw “Imperial…” What, again? Sooner or later I was going to make a practice of ignoring any message from any entity that was “imperial.” They were starting to irritate me. In fact, right now why not just...Oh, right! I changed my mind. I was not going to delete any message from the Imperial Bank. No. Those messages were nice ones. This one, for example, was informing me that a deposit of seventeen million had been dropped into my Family bank account. Even better was the statement revealing the total amount, which added up to twenty-five million rubles.

I read the message and saw that some of this was payment for part of what we’d put up for auction. Sales were ongoing, so I could expect many more large deposits into the account. But I had to keep in mind that I couldn’t make money this way forever. As it was, I was risking saturating the market for, say, dirty pots. There were only so many museums and private collections. Soon, it would be time to put the truly valuable items up for auction...

But okay, that could wait. Now, we needed to make some judicious expenditures. And in so doing, I didn’t want to waste any time. Thus, picking up my phone, I searched for a contact I’d saved quite some time ago.

“Good afternoon!” I said in a pleasant voice when my call was answered. “This is Count Bulatov. I would like to speak with your manager.” I spoke quickly so that they wouldn’t have time to hang up on me.

They kept me waiting before making a response.

“Please don’t take offense, Count Bulatov, but we must refuse to provide you with our goods and services,” said what sounded like a middle-aged man. “I beg your pardon, but...”

“Before you hang up, I want to say that I would like to buy all of your sand,” I interrupted him, and he fell silent, and then said, “What, excuse me?” Clearly he couldn’t believe his ears. But really, what could be confusing about this?

“All of your sand. All of it. Whatever you have in stock, and whatever you accumulate over the next year,” I said, thinking that I’d assumed correctly. Another silence ensued while the manager processed my offer. On the one hand, the blockade against the Bulatovs was stupid, and on the other hand, this was an outstanding offer he’d be refusing.

“I beg your pardon, Count Bulatov...” said the manager in a quavering voice. “I need to speak with my superior. Would you mind waiting for about twenty minutes? We’ll call you back.”

“But of course,” I said, leaning back in my chair and pouring myself a glass of wine. “I’ll wait!”

In the end I didn’t have to wait even twenty minutes. I took a couple of sips of wine, read the label on the bottle trying to translate the offworld text, and then the phone rang.

“Good afternoon, Count Bulatov! I am Viscount Benin. You spoke with my subordinate about purchasing my sand,” he went on. “I’ll say right away that I’m intrigued, yes I am. But, unfortunately, I cannot engage in business with you. I’m not in the coalition behind the blockade, but I don’t need problems...”

“How much?” I interrupted him.

“My rough estimate is that the sand is worth eight million,” he said after a pause. “But I’m willing to risk it for ten million.”

“In that case, send the paperwork to Countess Bulatov,” I said with a big smile, “and I’ll send you an advance payment, along with the details about where I want the sand delivered.”

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Count Bulatov,” he said, and I got the feeling that he, too, was smiling. “Indeed,” I said, “and now I must attend to other matters. Have a nice day.”

But of course. Usually you had to be a Healer to earn two million just like that.

And so I’d finally confirmed my suspicions. I’d been operating under the assumption that this blockade was succeeding because everybody thought that the Bulatov Family was weak. But in fact, it was a simpler matter. The problem was that we were perceived as poor. Now that we were evidently wealthy, I could expect lots of new friends in the city.

And I’d chosen to start with this particular aristocrat for a reason. I’d studied who had the best quality quartz sand around here, then looked at how these aristocrats were connected to the city government. And I hadn’t neglected to ask Vika and Chernomor about the old wars with the Bulatovs. Benin turned out to be crystal clear, just like his sand. But I’d been needing that sand for some time now. And it was out of the question to fly in sand, as the quantities I required were enormous. As much as I was now purchasing, in fact, would only suffice for my immediate needs. I would soon need to purchase more elsewhere.

For example, we needed sand for the school. Sure, with some powerful magic we could ensure that the walls of the school could easily withstand artillery fire or an attack. Not ever earth mages could easily demolish those walls, and forget about the chances of other mages who might want to tear them down. But the windows were another matter altogether. What, then, was the point of making walls that were totally inviolable? But with pure sand, our mages could create bulletproof glass. Of course, I’d have to help them, but with my know-how, together we could create strong, transparent windows. I’d learned how to do this from the Order of Architects, which is why I knew that we needed a lot of sand.

For just ordinary glass, for example, I’d need five kilograms of sand. And for glass that could withstand a rifle shot, I’d need a hundred and fifty to two hundred kilograms of sand. Of course, the crystal lattice resistance had to be taken to account, but all that could wait. The important thing was that I knew what to do, where to direct the energy flows.

From what I’d gleaned about armored glass in this world, the production process was greatly different, and even the materials that were used weren’t the same. Some kind of film was used, and also plastics. I recalled once when some guys in the Order of Architects created a window from five tons of sand. It was a feat, a real work of art for those who beheld it, and also for anyone interested in the magical structure of the resulting material. It was a stained glass window for a church. What could possibly go wrong, right? But of course, this stained glass caused a lot of trouble later on.

In that kingdom, there was an interesting wedding custom. At the ceremony, should another suitor show up, he could try to stop the wedding. He could even challenge the groom to a duel to the death. And this was allowed, but the tradition was that any who wanted to mount a challenge had to fly in through the window. As a result, in a single week three young men were killed, and all because the stained glass window was impenetrable. Other churches also installed such windows, and as a result, would-be interlopers had to show up before the wedding to find out what kind of windows were in the church.

And there was one priest who was defrocked for alleging that the stained glass was nothing special when, in fact, it was incredibly strong. Once, I met this defrocked priest. He was a happy old guy, who didn’t regret a thing.

“Did you call?” Georgy knocked on my door and I nodded, inviting him to take a seat.

“Have you created the final draft of the plan for what we need to buy for the school?” Georgy nodded, and placed a folder on the table. “Good!” I said, and flipped through a couple of pages. “Here’s a debit card for the Family account. You can spend around ten million.”

“Oh,” said Georgy, turning pale. “How about just giving me what I need as we go along?”

“Meaning? I’m not worried about you sharing the password,” I smiled. “And by the way, as of today I’ve raised your salary by thirty percent.”

“That’s great, but what am I going to spend it on?” he laughed. “You’re feeding me here, and I get free housing and clothing. And the plane rides are free, too!”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” I laughed. “You’re a resourceful guy, but what matters most is that you’re loyal. And so you deserve a good salary.”

I also called Chernomor. He’d been complaining about how much I’d been neglecting the guard, and so now I parceled out five million to him. He could use it to buy more equipment and armor, and also some new weapons and ammo. We ran out of grenades faster than we could get them.

“Wonderful! This is great!” boomed Chernomor. “We can never have too much equipment, no, although we don’t need any fancy new uniforms for our guardsmen. What matters most is that they be provided with artifacts and weaponry, and anything else is secondary. So why not spend this money on heavy artillery?” he asked, scratching his beard.

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about it. “No,” I decided, shaking my head, “I can’t spend good money on tanks when we can get them for free.”

“But not a single one of our tanks is the same!” said Chernomor hotly, grabbing the bottle of wine off the table to drown his sorrows. “Do you remember when five people were poisoned and had to go to the hospital?”

“Yes, I’m the one who healed them,” I responded, wondering what his point was.

“That very day, five different tanks were taken out of action. Each of those men could only operate their particular model; nobody else could step in for them.”

“Three gulps!” I couldn’t help but notice. All it took for Chernomor to down a bottle of wine was three gulps. So then, what were we talking about?

“Okay, you’ve made your point. From now on all we’ll only take tanks that are all the same model,” I said, and produced another bottle of wine. “Won’t you have more? In case of need I can sober you up.”

“Sure, why not?” said Chernomor, reaching for the bottle and draining it in seconds.

“By the way, that bottle of wine costs about the same as a tank,” I said, and Chernomor’s face suddenly flushed beet red.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I don’t need anymore.”

* * *

Later that night

The Estate of Baron Makhalov

Benjamin was back now from another campaign and now standing before his sprawling castle supervising his men as they unloaded the equipment and artillery they’d acquired. Some of the trophies went into his hangar, and some items were sent to Bulatov’s castle. He also dispatched vans and dump trucks loaded to the brim with all sorts of valuables and weapons for the Bulatovs.

“House the prisoners in the basement for now. Later on we’ll divvy them up,” he told a fighter.

“Baron, why is it that we’re the ones doing these raids and plundering the enemy, only to have to send it all to the count?” asked his top assistant who was also the commander of his guard. Benjamin and this man were like brothers, almost, having gone through fire and water and to hell and back. As a rule, Benjamin didn’t distinguish between commoners and aristocrats. What mattered to him was if they were a good person or not.

“First,” he replied, raising a finger, “we’re not plundering, we’re procuring trophies. That’s an important distinction to make,” he said, thumping his comrade on the shoulder. “Secondly, what’s your problem? We did great, like always! We crushed them!”

“Yeah, sure we did!” snorted the other. “We almost died how many times in just one week? Five? And to what end? Just to steal...er...acquire agricultural machinery? What kind of trophy is a tractor?”

“Okay, I hear you,” nodded Benjamin. “But we get Count Bulatov some tractors and in return he gives us whatever we need.”

“But what the hell?!?” exclaimed his commander. “Why don’t we seize land? Why do we attack one village after another and then turn and run away like cowardly dogs?”

“Apparently Bulatov doesn’t need the land, so we’re not seizing it,” the baron shrugged, and taking his helmet off he gave his comrade a sober look. “And what would you want the lands for?”

“Well, look...” he hesitated, pointing at a number of tractors that could be used to cultivate the land. “It’s spring. We could at least get some crops planted. And if we keep on going out on these forays, it’s only a matter of time before we run into trouble. I’ve seen how it goes. It just gets harder to do.”

“So true; it doesn’t get any easier,” sighed Benjamin. “Okay, looks like they’ve finished the unloading, and now we can take care of the prisoners.”

“Okay, baron. We kept just one tractor for ourselves. All of the rest are going to the count,” the commander of guard grumbled, shaking his head as he turned to head for the castle. But just then, Benjamin stopped him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“What do you mean? Load up all of the tractors. Don’t keep any of them!”

They’d recently acquired a dining hall in their castle, and the baron and his men gathered there to celebrate their latest victory. True, these victories were run of the mill by now, and not everyone was in a celebratory mood. After all, they’d be heading out on another foray tomorrow, so better to get some sleep. Even if most of the time was spent on loading, unloading and transporting trophies.

“Well, at least they give us good eats,” grinned the commander of the guard, tearing off a hunk of succulent wild board roasted with an apple in its mouth. “It’s like we work for food, baron, eh?”

“Enough of that,” replied Benjamin, nudging him in the side with his elbow. “Have faith in the count, and it’ll all work out just fine.”

“You say that as if he has a plan,” the commander looked at Benjamin, who smiled mysteriously. “What do you mean? What’s the big mystery? Maybe you’ll finally clue me in?”

“No, I promised to keep quiet,” Benjamin sighed.

“So what? You don’t trust me, your friend?”

“I do trust you, but the count can be persuasive,” Benjamin shuddered, remembering what would happen to him if he broke his word.

Everyone then livened up as they filled their bellies, and soon the soldiers began to disperse to their barracks and rooms. And then the baron received a message that Count Bulatov’s plane was approaching the estate. He smiled at that, winked at the commander of the guard, and headed for the castle courtyard. That’s where the landing pad was located, designed, in fact, for the count’s plane.

“Now you’ll find out the plan, at least in part,” grinned Benjamin as the plane landed and its rear hatch began to open.

Chernomor emerged then, accompanied by several fighters, followed by Timothy. Right away Bulatov’s commander of the guard headed straight over to speak with Benjamin, while Timothy set about overseeing the process as machinery, crates, boxes and even barrels were unloaded from the vast cargo compartment. Food, clothing, furniture, electronics. Indeed, they were delivering whatever was required for a comfortable life for the baron and all of his people.

“Here you go, sign this!” Timothy approached Benjamin with a clipboard. “We’ve delivered everything and you can distribute the goods yourself.”

“Why so much?” Benjamin was surprised at the long list of goods. “It’s more than we need.”

“Count Bulatov told me to give you everything you might need,” said Timothy, throwing up his hands. “If only you knew what a headache that was...” he sighed, and after Benjamin signed off on the delivery he headed back to the plane.

“Now it’s my turn,” boomed Chernomor, and took the baron aside.

Bulatovs guardsmen had unloaded several crates made from solid, offworld wood near the plane. And they opened them up to show Benjamin what was inside.

“Wow...” Benjamin smiled. “So now do you get it?” he said, poking his commander of the guard in the side so hard that he gasped. “Do you see?”

In the crate was an assortment of medallions and amulets in neat rows. They were arranged in order, and each had a tag attached to it with a short description of what the item could do.

“These produce fire,” Chernomor pointed to one of the boxes. “Those produce ice, and these others generate wind. They’re powerful, so be careful with them,” Chernomor said, closing the lid to this box and moving on to the next ones. “These are protective artifacts against a diverse array of attacks. Magic, explosives, shots. And these are universal amulets, of course...” Yes, there were instructions included in the boxes, but just the same Chernomor liked to tell Benjamin about them in detail. After all, these amulets and medallions were costly, and only the wealthiest Families could afford them.

Benjamin’s eyes were sparkling. He felt like scooping these artifacts up and showering them on his men and then leading them into battle. They could procure even more trophies, capture even more prisoners, and even dismantle Count Zlatonravin’s residence and erect it near Bulatov’s castle.

“Can I try one? Just one,” Benjamin asked, rubbing his hands, but Chernomor shut the lid right in front of him. “But...”

“Here, these are for you!” smiled Chernomor, as he fished a handful of amulets out of his pocket. “These are for testing; use them with abandon.”

Benjamin immediately tried out a universal protective artifact. Bulatov had sent along a dummy for this purpose. Since this was test, they didn’t need to try it out on a real person, and the dummy was designed to mimic a man.

First, they fired a short burst of machine gun fire at the dummy. In a flash, a thin protective shield emerged around the dummy and the bullets ricocheted off of it with a ringing sound. Then they tried a grenade launcher, and to everyone’s surprise, there wasn’t a scratch left on the dummy.

“Alright then!” laughed the baron, drawing near the dummy and activating his Gift. “I’ll have to kill this dummy myself!” he cried, pulling out his shimmering sword and landing a blow on the dummy. With a cracking sound a fissure appeared on the surface of the thin shield. “Ha! Now we’ll show them!” he roared, as his men let out a battle cry.

“Okay, before you rush off to battle,” broke in Chernomor, “is there anything else you need?”

“Of course there is,” said the baron, and hesitated. “I need six villages. Do you mind if I seize them?”

“Why do you need them?” sighed Chernomor. “Are you getting bored?”

“Well,” began Benjamin, standing up straight and beginning to pace back and forth, “As my grandfather taught me, every aristocrat needs some villages and some peasants, and also...”

“Okay, I’ll bring it up with Mikhail...Or you can talk to him about it yourself.”

“I can’t visit the count right now,” he replied. “I need to deal with these new artifacts.”

“I understand,” nodded Chernomor, and prepared to leave. “When do you need these villages?”

“Yesterday,” the baron smiled. “And don’t look at me like that! I have people!” And he drew Chernomor over to look at some large sheds they used for equipment. And sure enough, some of the space inside had been modified to accommodate hundreds of people.

“Is your plan to resettle prisoners in villages? Doesn’t Zlatonravin want to pay ransom for his men?” asked Chernomor as he strode through the rows of double, or even triple bunk beds.

“Why do you think these are all prisoners?” Benjamin was slightly offended. “These are people that asked to be resettled here.”

“Where are they from?”

“From the neighbors,” shrugged Benjamin. “I would happen upon them and extend the invitation, and they all accepted,” he paused, and then added, “despite the weapons I was holding. Oh, and the tanks didn’t put them off, either. I think they liked my boyish charm.”

“That’s it! Our baron is a handsome devil. That’s why people gravitate toward him,” said his commander of the guard.

“I get the feeling that Mikhail doesn’t really know who he’s dealing with…” Chernomor sighed.

“Oh, but I think he’s the only one who gets me,” Benjamin said with a mischievous smile that made Chernomor wonder.

* * *

Yet again, my vassal baron impressed me, like usual in a good way. He never asked me for anything, and even refused certain weapons, all the while regularly supplying me with machinery for the peasants. He even delivered entire detachments of prisoners. And best of all, he was fully occupying the attention of at least one of my hostile neighbors.

And in return, I merely provided him with whatever he needed, treated his wounded in our infirmary, and, of course, I remembered all of our private conversations. We’d discussed our plans for the future, both his personal desires, and also our collaboration.

One thing was for sure, and that’s that everyone agreed that Benjamin was an insane, suicidal warrior, totally fearless on the battlefield. Whoever it was, he was ready to take them on. But that’s just what everyone thought. I knew otherwise. Benjamin, in fact, was ambitious and goal-oriented, not at all foolhardy, no matter how he looked from the outside.

He not only wanted to restore his Family’s power, he wanted to add to his Family’s legacy, make his own mark. He wanted to leave his children, and his children’s children with much more than a small estate with a run-down mansion, which is all he’d had until now. He wanted to bequeath them spacious lands, production facilities, villages and the means to add to the luster of his Family name.

But as he himself told me, despite these lofty ambitions, he wasn’t the best at money making, or construction work, or even managing business matters. All he truly excelled at was fighting and leading men into battle. For him, this came naturally. However, how to maintain an army without developed lands? It was because of his failure to see his own shortcomings in time that he’d fallen prey to his enemies before meeting me.

Benjamin told me that he’d like to learn how to manage his estate, grow it. We agreed that I could provide him with what he needed and help him determine what he didn’t need, in effect teaching him in the process. And, in fact, I myself had big plans for him when it came to his estate. I hadn’t placed him on land that was very fertile, but it did contain a lot of stone in those seaside cliffs. Naturally, building materials could be extracted from those cliffs. And, most importantly, his estate had access to the sea. I planned on constructing a port town there, along with a port, of course. Right now, the seabed and shoreline wasn’t conducive to ships docking there, but I had earth mages that could help with that. They could build constructions that fit the terrain and deepen the seabed, do whatever it took to permit entire fleets of traders to dock.

I’d spent enough time in the Port District of Arkhangelsk to know that for any kind of port to flourish strong leadership was required. Any port settlement generated a lot of traffic, and this inevitably included shady characters. And so a strong security network was essential. I would make sure that nobody would be afraid to go outside at night in my port town. Some time ago I’d come to the realization that, for me, Arkhangelsk was not conducive when it came to engaging in business. And it didn’t look like it would get any better any time soon. Thus, it made sense for me to work toward creating my own fleet and initiate trading with faraway regions, even other countries. And I’d build outdoor markets and trading centers in my port town. People would come from all around to sell and buy. All I needed was to develop and build all this, and establish sea routes.

And yes, I’d get this all done within a month! Of course my earth mages flipped out, like usual, when I told them about my plans. But why? Might it be that they knew they wouldn’t be able to sleep until the work was done? I could only guess. It might well be that it was because I still expected them to work on their other projects.

Really, it was a busy time for all of us, with plans and such, because what all this meant is that I’d have to provoke a big war. And I wasn’t even sure if I would win this one, but I saw no alternative. Right away I tried to banish this line of thinking. I had to win; losing wasn’t an option. And the war itself was inevitable. So I readied myself and headed for the city, instructing my driver to take me straight to city hall, up to the main entrance.

“I’m sorry, but Mayor Gushin is currently away on important work,” said the pretty receptionist in the mayor’s suite of offices, but I blew right past her. I’d been told by Kooky that the mayor was in, so why even ask for an audience with him? For me that would be a waste of time.

“Good afternoon...” I began, trying to recall his first name. But of course, I’d never known it. Oh, well. “Here, I need your signature on these documents.”

Before Gushin could collect himself I dropped a hefty stack of papers onto his desk.

“Y-you…” the plump face began to rapidly turn red, and the mayor almost fell out of his oversized leather chair as he hastily swung his feet off the desk. “Bulatov! What is this?” he snarled, as he finally succeeded in hoisting himself to his feel. “How dare you barge in here!?”

“But why shouldn’t I? I live nearby, I have every right to visit our local representatives in charge of city management,” I poured myself some whiskey from a decanter, and then settled down more comfortably opposite Gushin. “Let’s not waste time in idle chatter. Just sign the papers,” I nodded at the stack as I took a sip. I must admit that the mayor was a real connoisseur when it came to liquor. Clearly this was not cheap booze.

“How dare you?” again said the mayor, turning purple with anger. “I won’t sign anything! Now get the hell out of here!”

“I beg your pardon, but might I at least request that you read those papers?” I asked him just slightly snidely. I was being extra polite because I knew it would irritate him. You see, I was keeping my cool, while he was losing his. For an aristocrat, saving face was important, so already I’d positioned myself advantageously in this conversation.

“What is it in those papers?” he growled, snatching up the first document. “Ha! Permission to build a port? You must be joking!!” and he laughed so heartily that he fell back into his chair. “Wait!” Gushin punched a button on his office phone and a voice picked up the call. “Val! Get over here right away!”

And in another minute a breathless man of about forty ran into the office.

“Val! Look! Bulatov wants a permit to construct a port! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” Gushin again burst into laughter, and after a pause, so did this Val guy. I had no idea who he was. Some deputy or assistant, no doubt.

“Hey! Shall we call Anton?” suggested Val, and Gushin nodded enthusiastically, punching another button on the phone.

And in no time all three of them were laughing hysterically at my documents as I sat there calmly sipping whiskey. By now I’d taken the time to replenish my drink with something I’d selected from the bar.

“A port! Bulatov wants to build a p-p-p-port!” sputtered Gushin as they all laughed uproariously. “Bulatov, as long as you live, you’ll never get a permit to build a port! Now get the hell out of here before I call security.”

“Never?” I asked, surprised at this, and then I extracted a photo from my pocket and tossed it onto the desk. They glanced at it, and suddenly they stopped laughing and all was silent. “In case you don’t recognize him, that’s the emperor shaking my hand. What do you think? Might he be willing to give me a building permit?”

“Go away...” hissed Gushin, now as pale as a sheet. “You’re not getting your port. No. You won’t even break ground.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” I slapped myself on the forehead “I’ve already begun construction, and it’s in full swing. I showed up out of respect for the state apparatus, but yes, for whatever reason I had the feeling it would be a waste of my time,” I sighed, taking a final sip of my drink and standing up. “But I’ve warned you, at least. And now, I must take my leave. I need to oversee the construction of my port, you see,” I said with a wink, and then I headed for the door. “And it gladdens my heart that in our city, we no longer need to bribe the mayor. Right?” I glanced at Gushin as he suddenly blanched. I got the feeling he was beginning to put two and two together.

I walked out onto the street in a great mood. But not because the mayor refused to sign off on my permit. And not even because I’d sat there for twenty minutes watching three idiots laughing at me. The secret of my great mood was simple. All it was is that I hadn’t removed the alcohol from my bloodstream, that’s it!”

“So why was this necessary?” Chernomor was waiting for me by our lead car. All this time, he and several heavily armed fighters had been standing there in a staredown with the guards on duty at the city offices. They, by the way, were looking on the pale side. I guess they were starting to get nervous. Little did they know that we even had a Combat Suit in one of our trucks.

“Was it worth the trouble? Showing up to tell our enemies about our plans...” he sighed. “Now we’ll have to increase the security at the construction site.”

“You’ll find out what that was about,” I patted Chernomor on the shoulder and sat down in the car. “Let’s go! We’re about to have a whole lot of fun,” I said. At this, Chernomor turned pale. I wonder why? I should give him a prescription for some red wine, to be consumed only in moderation, of course. A bottle at breakfast, another at lunch. And then, to break it up, a bottle of white wine. That should do the trick.

* * *

Some time later

The Mamonov estate

“Father, no need to worry about the warehouses. We’ve resolved the outstanding issues. They’re no longer closed by the authorities,” announced the Family’s junior representative. He was all of fourteen years old, but was already deeply involved in Mamonov’s financial matters, and had contributed to some positive outcomes.

“And what about you?” Duke Mamonov motioned to a girl of about twenty, “Anything to report?”

“The head of Occupational Safety accepted our kickback. It’s smooth sailing now!” she said, beaming as her father nodded his approval.

The duke liked to bring his Family together at these meetings. In this conference room were both his close relatives and more distant members of the Family. They would all report on their assigned tasks, and either be given silent approval, or immediate punishment. And none of them wanted the punishment, so they all did their utmost to strengthen and enrich the Family.

“Sir!” the duke’s first assistant approached him and leaned over to quietly tell him something. “We have news from Arkhangelsk.”

“What is it about?” Mamonov frowned.

“At present it isn’t urgent, but it could, in time, create problems.”

Hearing this, the duke smiled. After all, who would dare do anything to oppose him? The Mamonovs were one of the most power Families in the region. Yes, their estate and enterprises were all located around Onega, which wasn’t the largest city, but they also counted twelve major ports across the Empire among their possessions. So in addition to being one of the most powerful Families in the region, they were undoubtedly the wealthiest. In terms of their coffers, they even competed with the top Families in the capital. After all, they owned not only the ports, but the infrastructure, as well. This included their massive warehouses, the shipyards, and also the districts around most of the ports. True, many of the neighborhoods around the ports were controlled by the ubiquitous local gangs.

“So then, what’s the news?” asked the duke, raising his hand to silence the others. Everybody immediately fell silent to hear what the assistant had to say.

“A new port is being built near Arkhangelsk,” he said, throwing up his hands.

“What?! Who would dare?” Mamonov didn’t expect this. It had been some time since he’d encountered such impudence. After all, everybody knew that he was the “emperor of ports,” and nobody, but nobody had the right to build another in his territory. No, this was unacceptable.

“A certain Count Bulatov.”

“Who, then, might he be?” the duke looked around the table, and one of his relatives rose to his feet.

“I’ve heard of him... There’s even a dossier on him somewhere...” He took out his phone, quickly found what he was looking for and summarized the pertinent details for the duke. “Our man told him that he wouldn’t be given a permit. But Bulatov said outright that he doesn’t care about that. And that, if necessary, he would procure the emperor’s permission.”

“He’s finished!” Duke Mamonov shook his head. “Deal with him!” he said with a dismissive gesture, and was about to move on to the next order of business when Mamonov’s nephew rose from his seat.

“Sir, it’s not so simple when it comes to Bulatov. More than twenty Families are out to get him, and if we join them, the advantage to his adversaries may be so great that it might trigger a response from the Imperials.”

“Oh, my. We don’t want to upset the Imperials,” Mamonov said sarcastically, and quiet laughter rippled around the room. “Enough now. Shut up! Our reputation is impeccable, and this is because of my efforts!” he growled. “And so war with him is off the table. Arseny, look at the list of his enemies. Do we know any of them?”

“Hmmmm…” the nephew started looking and, having scrolled through only the beginning of the list, he smiled. “Yes! The Grishanov family. They are neighbors to him, and share a border with the Bulatovs!”

“The Grishanovs...” Mamonov drummed his fingers on the table. “He mines ore, right?” At this, the nephew and others nodded. “Right, I recall chatting with him at a reception at the Kurchatovs,” said the duke thoughtfully. “Then let’s do it this way...Round up ten thousand mercenaries and send them to Grishanov. As a gift, for six months. He can use them however he wants. But ensure that he knows our expectations.”

“Ten thousand?” exclaimed several listeners in unison. “Why so many?”

“I see no reason not to,” frowned the duke. “Or are you worried about the costs?” he laughed, and all of the others obediently followed suit. “When did ten million become money worth fretting over?”

The Mamonov family now owned twelve ports in eight different cities. But it wasn’t so long ago that they had far fewer ports, and even now, they were at war with two Families. And so they could expect to expand their network of ports to include even more. But most importantly, their reputation was spotless, and that was because they always, but always had others do their dirty work.

“Sir, may I?” the chief of intelligence stood up then. He’d read the report on Bulatov and looked concerned. “I recommend that you allocate more money to this matter.”

“Do you know something that I don’t?” asked the duke, who appreciated his intelligence network.

“According to this dossier, just six months ago the Bulatovs were on the verge of extinction. But, as we see, this is no longer the case. And all of their military hardware is comprised of a wide range of models.”

“So what? Do they lack the means to purchase new equipment?” the duke chuckled.

“Well, all of his tanks and trucks, his artillery and helicopters used to belong to Families with whom he’s been at war. I think he just took their machinery after defeating them in battle. So clearly, they’ve been underestimating his abilities. I’d like to carry out further intelligence work, take a closer look and compile a full report.”

“Why not just let him build his port?” suggested one of the duke’s daughters. “Let him build it, and then we can take it. Problem solved!”

“Nice, Natalia!” nodded the duke, “I like your thinking. However, when it comes to emerging competitors, it’s best to kill them in the cradle. But, that being said, if the mercenaries fail to crush him, we’ll revisit your idea.”

Chapter 14

A WEEK AND A HALF FLEW BY as if in a day. A lot happened, and we accomplished all sorts of things. However, our enemies weren’t idle, either.

For example, Grishanov, even while in a coma, was able to cause some trouble. His forces stormed our wall in the gorge, and it was as if all was lost...But no! To their surprise, behind the first wall was a second wall, and it was even higher, and thicker.

The second wall wasn’t there just to razz the enemy, it was part of a tactical move that would manifest in the future in the form of a cruel joke on Grishanov and his forces. Right now, they’d brought in equipment and were trying to drill a tunnel through the wall to permit tanks and howitzers to pass through. They’d stormed the first one as if they were in the Middle Ages. Fast, bold and brazen, taking advantage of their numerical superiority. They paid no attention to the bombs flying from above, nor the artillery fire. Really, if not for their landing helicopters, their action truly was reminiscent of a medieval assault on a fortress wall. The helicopters delivered their forces right onto the top of the wall, and this, in turn, made it possible for more to ascend it via robes and ladders.

Yes, it would have been more impressive had we responded somehow in kind, but all we’d done was send out a few combat pigeons and fire off enough artillery to lend to the illusion of a powerful defense. Just the same, the Grishanov forces still managed to incur losses. Some were killed by shells and explosives, while others simply fell off the wall. For whatever reason, their ladders were terribly slippery, as witnessed by all the pigeons flying about.

But none of this mattered. They’d captured the wall, so let them rejoice. I had other issues to deal with now. Right then I was standing in front of our Lazarus font, deep in our basement, observing three almost lifeless bodies floating on the surface.

“Why? Why did you overdo it like that? Couldn’t you simply pace yourselves?” I sighed, sitting at the edge of the font as I looked at my earth mages.

“Un-h-h...” wheezed Giovanni, opening his eyes. I saw a combination of anger and horror in them, and these strong emotions were lending him strength. He shakily lifted his arm up and the middle finger of his hand was extended upward

“Okay, Giovanni, no matter. It’s all good,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You guys are doing great! Yes, you’ve overextended yourselves a little, but it happens to the best of us.”

* * *

The day before

Giovanni stood on the seashore staring at the horizon, tears streaming down his face. His legs were trembling from fatigue, his eyes dark, and he felt like death was near. For the first time in his life he felt his organs shutting down, one by one, and as if disintegrating, but he wasn’t at all worried about it. In fact, the thought of dying filled him with joy, because then, it would all be over.

But it wasn’t so long ago that everything was hunky-dory. It was just a couple of weeks ago when he, Ludwig and Toren were rudely awakened in the middle of the night with no explanation and flown to the seashore. And this was so sudden that they hadn’t even finished their last job. It was simply all of a sudden, off they went.

But even so, this was life as usual. Mikhail always had new assignments for them, even if they were already loaded up with work. For example, he’d need a couple of new houses in this or that village, and one of them would have to rush off to get it done. Or maybe a warehouse needed to be expanded to accommodate a tractor or something, and so then Giovanni would have to find half an hour to handle it.

But this, well, it’s not like the mages didn’t know that sooner or later, this day would come. They knew that they’d someday have to build a port, and so they’d steeled themselves for what that would entail.

But, really, how could they know what lay ahead? The seabed here was not at all conducive to the creation of a port. For one, it was too shallow, and so in addition to deepening it, they needed to reinforce it with stone slabs. Creating these massive stone slabs would be just part of their work. Next, the slabs would be submerged to the bottom of the sea and fastened together using huge steel cables. It sounded simple, but it was actually a complicated process.

Even so, on the flight there, Giovanni assumed they’d do a small portion, lay the groundwork, say, and then they’d go back to the usual rote work. After all, they didn’t even have the materials to proceed too far with the port construction. But no, his assumption was wrong. To all their horror, they found out that Mikhail had ensured they had everything they needed to build the port and strengthen the seabed. They found concrete slabs, mountains of stone, steel cables and ingots, and a massive supply of sand. Mikhail’s laborers had taken care to lay everything out along the shore and it was there, awaiting them.

Thus, they had to plunge into the job headfirst, full speed ahead. It took them two days to prepare the seabed, and then the plane began dropping the slabs into the water. However, a problem arose. As the bottom deepened, it became almost impossible to embed the slabs. They had to find a solution, so they called Mikhail and Chernomor over. Giovanni was actually hoping that Mikhail would abandon this crazy dream of his to build a port, or maybe he’d settle for a much smaller version of one.

“Oh, all you three need are diving suits,” said Chernomor, dashing his hopes.

“But we don’t know how to do deep-sea diving! We’ve never used underwater gear! It’s not our thing at all to wear diving suits and we’ve never worked in the depths of the ocean!” sputtered Ludwig as the other two grimly nodded.

“Okay, then we have no other recourse,” sighed Mikhail. “Gills!”

“Hey guys,” said Toren, “here we are in this techno-world. Time for us to learn how to use the tools at hand. What say?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” said Giovannii, as Ludwig shrugged, “Give us the suits, and we’ll make like fish!”

And off the mages went while Chernomor and Mikhail stood on the shore staring thoughtfully at the horizon.

“So can you really create gills in people?” asked Chernomor, breaking the silence. “Is it really possible?”

“We’ll never know,” sighed Mikhail. “Okay, maybe someday...” he added as he headed for the plane. Chernomor stayed behind to deal with the diving suits and scuba gear for the mages, and to find professional divers to assist them.

In just a couple of hours they were ready to go, and although all three earth mages were terrified, they descended into the watery depths and skillfully fastened the slabs, and from then on the construction of the port was in full swing. Yes, they came close at times to being conked on the head by falling slabs, but what was really hard on them was having to stay underwater with no break at all. They had to simply switch out oxygen tanks without surfacing.

It took them three days, but in the end, the seabed was so strong and deep that even massive ships could reach the port, including small fleets. But then a new problem arose. The coastline itself needed work to accommodate ships. As it was, the cliffs could well collapse under the strain, and so now they had to be strengthened. Thus, they used the blueprints that Mikhail provided to do just that.

And although the mages didn’t fully understand how, they knew that Mikhail was somehow helping. That being said, they were doing the heavy lifting, and they didn’t stop for a minute, although, strangely, they never felt tired. And time itself seemed to pass incredibly swiftly, with days flying by seemingly in minutes, even though it wasn’t a blur. Giovanni always knew what was happening.

And so it was that two weeks later, all three mages stood on the fortified shoreline surveying the results of their mammoth efforts, and they realized that the port was completed. They’d erected the infrastructure and buildings, built a shipyard, created berths for the ships, and that was that. They could rest. Although, in fact, Giovanni was too tired even for that. He felt like he was actually dying from exhaustion. But he was okay with that! What mattered was that they’d finished the work, and the suffering was behind him. Also, not long before they’d finished, Giovanni could tell that he’d broken through to the next rank...Most mages would agree that this was impossible, to reach the rank of a Senior Mage at such a young age, but, knowing at what cost he’d done so, he was utterly indifferent to his new level. Now, however, all three of them were Senior Mages, though the other two were older.

“Oh, you’ve finished?” Mikhail showed up right away, having been summoned by his guardsmen.

“Yes. All of the work is done now...all...of...it…,” Toren squeezed the words out as he collapsed onto the pavement.

“Wait...not so fast!” exclaimed Mikhail grabbing him and bringing him back to consciousness. “All of you did just great! The only thing left to do now is erect a few more buildings over there and...” he paused, looked at the coastline and fished a drawing out of his pocket. What it was, actually, was a schematic of a port town. “Look here! That’s where we need the town built.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Yulia broke into hysterical laughter, but then, seeing the look on Mikhail’s face, he suddenly fell silent. “So, like...a real town?”

“Yes, a real town,” shrugged Mikhail.

Ludwig started crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he couldn’t utter a word. None of the three apprentices could contain themselves. They started laughing again and shouting, and running around in circles, and one of them fell down onto the pavement and started gnawing at it. The mages didn’t do much better. Toren broke the neck of a bottle and started swigging wine through jagged glass, Ludwig simply hugged himself and rocked back and forth, and Giovanni...well, he no longer saw any point in living. Why go on when all it entailed was suffering? Memories from his past flashed through his mind, back when he’d had the honor of talking with an Archmage of Earthbending. He asked him how it had happened, how did he get to be a real Archmage? So cool! Giovanni was full of admiration for the old man, and was puzzled at why he was looking at him with such sadness. Back then he didn’t understand it at all, but now, well, he was beginning to comprehend what it had cost the Archmage to ascend to such heights.

To become a Senior Mage, or reach an even higher level, well, this required a massive storehouse of knowledge and an even greater source. To get there, the mage had to walk the line between life and death. And yes, right then Giovanni knew full well that he was dying. He couldn’t handle the transition upward. This could happen, and not infrequently. But small surprise, actually, because Giovanni had carried out in the span of two weeks the equivalent of what in his previous life would have taken him eight years.

And now, hearing Mikhail talk about a port town, all he could do was lift his arm and show him the middle finger. And that was all he could do before it became dark, and he collapsed, still flipping the bird. Now at the Lazarus font, Mikhail chuckled as he looked at the rude gesture, and stepping aside, he left Giovanni floating in the water flipping off the wall.

* * *

I didn’t think my mages would ever get there. But now, they should be proud of what they’d accomplished. And not just because they’d built my port in just two weeks. What mattered was that they’d not only depleted their source, they’d also developed it. And, in fact, Giovanni was now a Senior Mage.

Just the same, Victoria felt sorry for them. I didn’t understand why. The mages had elected to travel this path; I hadn’t kidnapped them. They weren’t slaves. What they wanted was strength and power, and I’d given them my word I would foster their evolution. No, we hadn’t discussed what this would entail, and so I’d selected the means of achieving this.

But how could they know what this would cost them? The situation with Giovanni was interesting. Truly, seventeen cardiac arrests in a row was a bit much. It looked like he was trying to escape from me...How naive.

Now done checking on my mages, I left them in the font and returned to my study. Victoria had told me that Benjamin was waiting for me there. I’d best not leave him alone for long. He was the kind of guy who got to thinking when he was left waiting. We didn’t need too much of that. Benjamin was the type to forego dreams of what factory he wanted to build first in lieu of pondering who to attack next.

“Mikhail, I had this great idea while standing here waiting for you,” he said with a smile that rather alarmed me.

“Well, just forget it. I don’t need to hear it!” I said, hurrying inside. “Drop it!”

“Okay then,” he shrugged. “But I was just thinking that we could disguise ourselves as offworlders and attack Kurchatov. You have plenty of offworld armor; I saw it in your storehouse.”

“So how would it look, an army of offworlders employing techno-weapons?” I didn’t want to get into this, but found myself getting sucked in.

“What’s so strange about that?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“So!” I realized that I was being led astray at this point. Benjamin’s ideas could be contagious. “Okay, I actually had a reason for calling you. Here, this is for you.” I pulled two suitcases out from under my desk. “This is money for you to develop your army.”

“We love money,” the baron said, his face lighting up, “Money is good!”

“And how do you like the new gift from my builders?” I asked him, and he sat down hugging the suitcases.

“It’s great having a new port, but why now?” he asked, reaching for the teapot and setting about preparing a cup of tea for himself, and I slapped myself on the forehead.

I completely forgot to provide him with the details of my plan. I did tell him at our last meeting that a port would someday be built. So he knew that someday I’d launch construction.

“You will be in charge of the port and surrounding town,” I said, spreading my hands apologetically while he swore under his breath.

“Now I understand why you’re not interested in my acquiring villages,” he sighed.

“Well, about that, why do you need them? Chernomor mentioned that you wanted more land, but that was all he told me. If you have the port town, then you have no need for villages; you won’t have the time for them.”

“Is it normal for me to have my own town while my count doesn’t?” laughed Benjamin, leaning back in his chair and munching down on a sugar cube.

“No need to worry about that,” I said, taking a sip of the tea. “I’ll get my own town, and it will be even bigger.”

“What would that town be about?” asked Benjamin almost suspiciously, and I feigned nonchalance. “What, you’re going to build it for yourself, right? Just have it done, eh? Mikhail, tell me!”

“It’s already under construction!” I said, just to calm him down. And that was the truth. My town, or, rather, my city has been under construction for hundreds of years! “But yes, you need a stronger army; I’ve given you enough money for this.”

“Well, you do know that I can only do so much. It’s hard to find good men, especially in specialized fields. That takes time,” sighed the baron.

“You’re not looking in the right places. Where do you find diamonds? In a pile of dirt if you dig hard enough, and if you approach it right,” I said. Judging by his expression, though, I’d lost him. So I had to dumb it down. “You find a disabled person, or a broken man, or someone in a hopeless situation, and you tell them you have a healing artifact, and then, once he’s healed, he’s yours. You end up with a man of experience who is fearless, and most importantly, loyal.”

“I’ll spend the next year working on it,” said Benjamin, waving his hand. “And for sure I’ll give it a try, thanks. Hey, on the good side, I’ve managed to attract two hundred and fifty people with almost no money at all. True, we’re still training half of them.”

“You need at least another six hundred and fifty. Without them you might not be able to withstand a serious attack,” I shook my head.

“Yeah, better still would be ten thousand more. But how am I to provide for them? I’d have to keep on asking you for assistance,” he said, clearly upset about this state of affairs. Naturally he wanted to be self-sufficient and it was hard for him to have to ask me for food. Of course he met a lot of his needs by plundering the neighbors, but still, he had to ask me from time to time.

“Okay, once my earth mages are back on their feet I’ll have them build you three villages. Then I’ll have my agricultural specialists build you fields and orchards, and after that you can provide for yourself. As I recall you have plenty of commoners, so you’ll figure it out,” I said, having decided to meet him halfway. If someone really wanted to take on more work, you should never refuse them.

“Commoners...how to tell you? They’re not available,” he smiled.

“Is there something I don’t know about you?” I asked. “Or aren’t my pigeons doing their job keeping an eye on you?” At this, Kooky gulped and looked upset.

“No, you know everything about me,” the baron laughed. “It’s just that they’re all loaded with work for the foreseeable future. Seventy of them joined my guard, and the others are already working at the port.”

“What port would that be? The one I built didn’t exist until yesterday,” I asked, truly at a loss.

“Yes, but who do you think is doing the cleanup after your earth mages? Lots of litter and debris, and we don’t even have enough laborers,” he sighed.

“Would you like me to send you more? I have more than I know what to do with.”

“No need. I can recruit more from the neighbors,” he said with a chuckle as he recalled his last foray in Zlatonravin’s lands. “All I need do is enter a village and the people come out to meet me. Zlatonravin taxes them at an 80% rate, and I can’t even fathom how they survived.”

Right, that was par for the course. Especially if the landholder wasn’t a local. Zlatonravin never showed his face around here, was never involved in the battles, and probably had no inkling about the state of his peasants. He just stayed put in the capital and didn’t give a damn about the hinterland.

“Okay then, get ready for it!” I shook Benjamin’s hand. “We’re about to have a lot of fun.”

“Ha! I haven’t been bored since meeting you,” he chuckled.

* * *

Later

Somewhere on Grishanov’s territory

“Shrub calling Nest!” A man in a black uniform with no insignia spoke into his radio trying to reach his command. “Shrub calling Nest!”

“Nest here!” he heard the deep voice at the other end.

“Shrub speaking! Unit two is ready to move out. We’ve busted through the wall, and cleared the way!” As he spoke, he nodded to the other commanders of the large mercenary detachment.

They all knew the drill, and were in their element when it came to storming fortifications. This time, though, they’d faced some challenges. What they didn’t expect was that, having dealt with the first wall, they’d find that the enemy had withdrawn behind yet another one that wasn’t even in the intelligence report. Moreover, they’d suffered losses during the assault on the first wall, despite lukewarm pushback from the enemy.

“Roger that!” responded Nest, who was coordinating the movements of several detachments at once. “Proceed as planned.”

“Roger! Over and out!” the commander handed the radio to the signalman, and nodded toward the exit, indicating that he should leave. “Well, shall we begin? Does everyone know what to do?” he said, looking at the others, and they all nodded silently. “Here we go again. Units two and three, after we take the second wall you proceed along the road and penetrate enemy lands. Units four and five, your task is to expand the land grab and carry out cleanup operations. Occupy the villages, leaving four men in each. Their job is to guard the ‘live stock.’

“It’s a simple plan, so don’t mess up. If you all just do your job and there aren’t any surprises, then by evening we should have the Bulatov castle under our complete control.”

“So what about unit one?” asked an officer. “Aren’t they going to help?”

“Firstly, we don’t need help. According to our intelligence our enemy doesn’t even have a thousand fighters. Sure, he’s got a couple of planes, but they’re not deal breakers here,” he smirked. “Secondly, unit one will occupy the port within the next two hours, so we’d better get a move on. If we don’t, they’ll do our work for us, and we can forget about a bonus.”

“That’s no fair! They’re better equipped, and are outfitted better!” complained another officer. “And they have more Gifted!”

“That’s not all! They even have mobile barricades. They didn’t skimp on unit one,” agreed the commander. “But there are more of us. So let’s get going, full speed ahead!”

* * *

Imperial Army Major Fyodor Markovich Korsin stood on a hillock and watched from a safe distance as a rather noisy assault operation began. He wasn’t sure who the instigator was, but he did know whose land it was.

Now, high in the sky above the sea, ten large landing planes were flying, and as soon as they reached the shoreline, the hatches in the back of each of them began to open. And like hail, men and crates and even equipment began falling out only to open parachutes moments later.

Lightweight tanks, combat vehicles, material for creating barriers and fortifications. Altogether three thousand well-trained fighters were descending onto the beach.

“Do you think they’ll prevail?” asked a young officer who approached the major. He too had been examining the recently built port through high-powered binoculars.

“Son, a detachment like that could take the castle,” chuckled the major. “And then turn to Bulatov’s allies, take their lands, too. Bear in mind that they also have the element of surprise on their side.”

“Yes, looks like this time Bulatov’s crossed the wrong person,” sighed the officer. “I don’t know about you, but I liked him. I thought he was alright for a count. And he helped the Empire as much as he could.”

“I agree with you,” Korsin sighed sadly. “But...what’s that? Do you see?” Now he was looking at the port again and was surprised to discover a magical dome covering it.

“Is it a protective artifact?” asked the young officer. “Looks like Bulatov isn’t giving up his port without a fight!” he exclaimed.

“No, but what difference does it make?” the major waved his hand. “I don’t even want to look. Even if they can’t use their artillery against a dome like that, people can pass through it, no problem. So this is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable.”

And they left with their small detachment of Imperial Forces, whose mission it was to protect neutral lands from offworld sabotage groups. The major had seen enough, and didn’t want his men to be distracted. It wasn’t their job to get involved in Family wars. All the more so as they’d heard nothing from their superiors about this. Just by hanging around they might change the course of this upcoming battle, or someone might get hit by a stray bullet. In any case, they’d just be asking for trouble. And that is why the major had his men move out as fast as possible. The Empire didn’t need to interfere in these disputes between Families. No, not at all. Let them handle their disagreements all on their own. Stay out of it, at least unless absolutely necessary.

* * *

Meanwhile...

New port of the Bulatovs

Victoria, Mira and Belmore stood in the port square and admired the beautiful spectacle as their guardsmen darted about. They were doing their best to swiftly and stealthily set up firing points, assume defensive positions, and dig in right in the middle of the port. They lugged boxes of ammunition around, installed heavy machine guns, and mined streets and houses. But they were running out of time, so their anxiety was increasing. That was the guards...Meanwhile, Mira, the mage of death, and Belmore and Victoria, the Necromancers, just looked up at the sky and smiled.

Before their eyes, three thousand men, along with lots of gear and boxes, slowly fell to the ground, like dandelions with parachutes. Some had already passed through the dome, while others were still drifting downward.

“So beautiful,” Mira said, enchanted.

“So profitable,” Vika even closed her eyes in bliss.

“So boring,” Belmore groaned, sitting down on a stone bench and reaching for the thermos in his bag. “Ladies, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please!” Mira said, and gratefully accepted a travel mug filled to the brim with the aromatic brew.

And thus passed a few more minutes. The mages drank coffee, joked about a bit, and stared at the sky, amazed at the precision of the enemy’s descent. The men with their gear and machinery all landed within a few hundred meters of each other! There was definitely some magic involved in that.

“The targets are entering maximum engagement range,” one of their officers reported. “Permission to open fire!”

“It’s not worth it,” the countess waved her hand. “Just relax and enjoy the show. What do you need all those boxes of ammo for?”

“But countess, we can destroy some of the attackers!”

“No need,” Belmore replied. “The count wouldn’t want us to waste ammunition.”

“But there are too many of them!” the guard was clearly out of sorts now. He knew full well that very soon he and his men would be up again three thousand trained fighters.

“Right, but take a close look. What is it you see?” Belmore again looked up at the sky, and glanced again at the officer.

“Well...” and he, too, looked up. “Soldiers, men, attackers...” Now he himself began to doubt his words.

“Men?” Belmore took a sip of coffee. “Take a closer look,” and he smiled.

The officer picked up his binoculars and began to carefully look at the parachutes hovering in the air.

“Or did you think we created a protective dome?” laughed the Necromancer. “No, this is a death dome. So, fighter, don’t waste our time and get ready to collect trophies. That, in fact, is why Mikhail sent you here.”

The parachutes landed everywhere, but, upon landing, nobody stood up. They settled like limp carcasses on the roofs of houses, around the port, and even in the main square. Sometimes military equipment landed with loud thumps, but it remained in place. After all, there was no one to do anything with the tanks, the trucks, the boxes of supplies.

“So this then, is how to repel an attack by several thousand people…” Victoria said, spellbound. “If someone had told me a year ago that Necromancers could do this, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“My girl,” Belmore hugged her lightly. “You have no idea what we can do.”

“Teacher, who do you think is stronger? Necromancers or Healers?” asked Victoria.

“All my life I was sure that Necromancers were. I never even doubted it. But now...” Belmore shuddered. “In short, one of our mutual acquaintances changed my worldview a little. So, no, Healers win the prize.”

“But you just said that if he really wanted to a Necromancer could destroy an entire city!” Victoria said hotly, and Mira and Belmore both laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“If Mikhail wanted to, he could destroy an entire country, you can be sure of that,” Belmore said, wiping the tears off his face. “But don’t worry. He clearly likes his new life.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Victoria sighed sadly. “It a shame he’s satisfied with what he has...”

“What, has he rejected you?” Mira said, hugging Vika and stroking her hair. A vivid blush suffused the countess’s face, and Belmore laughed again.

“She’s never even asked him!” he choked the words out as he was so overcome with mirth.

“What do you mean? You haven’t even asked him?” marveled Mira.

“Why is it on me to ask?” Vika was nonplussed. “What, I’m just supposed to walk up and tap him on the shoulder and, well, proposition him?”

“Well...” Mira and Belmore exchanged glances and looked at the girl. “Actually, yes!”

“That’s not the way it’s done!” exclaimed Vika, looking at the offworld duo as if they were halfwits. However, they were looking at her the same way.

“The girl has never seen a normal, strong Healer in her life,” the Necromancer explained to Mira, and she rolled her eyes.

“I see!” sighed Mira. “Vika, don’t you know that very powerful Healers like Mikhail employ restraining seals? No?” she laughed. “Because if he didn’t, then all the girls in the castle would walk around knocked up. What can I say? It’s in their nature. They can’t do a thing about it,” she went on while Victoria, in turn, sank into thought.

The next books of the series!

The Healer’s Way (Book 12)

The Healer’s Way (Book 13)

The Healer’s Way (Book 14)

The Healer’s Way (Book 15)

The Healer’s Way (Book 16)

The Healer’s Way (Book 17)

End of Book Eleven

Thank you for reading The Healer’s Way!

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About The Authors

ALEXEY KOVTUNOV was born in April 1992. He had a regular childhood and went to a regular school, after which he decided to study medicine. Still, having graduated from medical college, he wasn’t in a hurry to join the profession.

In 2014, he got a job during the Sochi Olympics as a driver with the US Olympic Committee, after which he found a gig working as industrial abseiler. Only after that did he join an emergency aid team in his capacity as paramedic.

It was an interesting job which definitely left its stamp on Alexey’s writing. In medicine, black humor is often the only thing that can ensure one’s sanity...

His hobbies, too, have influenced his work as a writer: fishing, books, technologies, computer games... all of this eventually resulting in his love for LitRPG.

But just as he started trying his hand at writing, the pandemic struck. Emergency teams toiled overtime, making Alexey way too busy with his medical work. Still, as soon as the situation improved, he got busy creating his own worlds... and he hasn’t been able to give it up since.

* * *

OLEG SAPPHIRE was born in April 1993 in the city best known as “Little Paris”. He’s always been a good-natured banterer constantly in the thick of his fun-loving friends. This didn’t prevent him from getting two degrees though, in law as well as in IT. He used his expertise in both areas to pen his LitRPG series. His hobbies are archery and reading, but the one pastime that really moves his soul is coin collecting, hunting for rare specimens with quite a bit of history behind them. Ever since childhood, he’s been an artist at heart. His other passion is painting, and he’s made his way through an inordinate amount of books.

Oleg has been surrounded by pets from an early age, so animals take a large place in both his heart and in his books, much to his readers’ joy. Writing is his life and his livelihood; he relates to every moment of his characters’ journeys, sympathizing with them in both his heart and his mind.