The Verge Of An Empire

3

One of the alleys connecting the streets of Tulips and Red Onyx. The eastern and southeastern outskirts of the Imperial Gardens are not as prestigious as the rest of the parts. The KGM campus and the tower of the building are located very close, darkening alone against the sky. In this part of the district there are institutions that serve the rich, food markets, the most expensive and best post offices and bank branches in Starkrar. Rented apartments in tall six-story buildings cost decent money. And yet there are a lot of such alleys even in the Imperial Gardens. From what exactly they spoke to him, Grandi could not accurately identify. Taking advantage of one of the state-owned carriages, I ordered to carry Tulips to the street. The chance to find the right place, and there is some evidence there, is, of course, a pipe hope, but what remains for me?

“Keep everything under control,” I told Sebastina, dismissing the carriage.

“I am always in control, master.

“Like the time I had to dodge bullets behind barrels of rotten herring?”

“Sorry about that incident, master. More like this will not happen again.

I am unfair to her. In that mess, she kept a strong magician from turning me into a corpse, and I just had to shoot back from a couple of mere mortals with explosive cartridges. Pulling a watch out of my waistcoat pocket, I ordered:

– Acsio lioite [Come light ( from the ancient language ).]!

A directed beam of light from the dial illuminated a narrow and dirty alley. There are fragments of old leaflets and advertisements on the walls, garbage and muddy, unpleasant-looking snow on the ground. The sudden intrusion of light into pitch darkness caused a flurry of protesting squeaks from a nearby garbage heap.

“Sebastina, get me a couple.

The maid darted at her prey like a kite and, before the ratlings had time to escape, she caught two pairs, two twitching gray carcasses in each hand. Among the usual squeaks, demands to return freedom to honest citizens broke through.

“I don’t remember when the Emperor decided to give citizenship to the ratlings, so that’s enough. I won’t introduce myself, it’s clear from your stupid faces that you value titles and regalia below a piece of moldy bread. Answer me honestly, and then perhaps I will thank you.

- How? How? How? How?

“A big circle of cheese and a ham.”

Pointy muzzles with mobile pink noses and long mustaches stopped moving, black beady eyes glazed over, and front paws, so similar to human hands, clung to each other.

– What does the tan want? What? What does the tan want?

Ratlings are not the best company for a self-respecting person, and even more so a tan who values ​​\u200b\u200bits reputation. Most of the inhabitants of the city do not pay any attention to these intelligent animals, and those who do are trying in every possible way to exterminate the bare-tailed folk, equating it with ordinary rats. I, because of the specifics of the work, cannot be disdained by anyone.

– I need something… – And then I realized that I don’t even know approximately which race or species of those that inhabit the capital I’m looking for. “Someone walked the lanes last night, maybe a man, maybe a tencris, maybe a lups, maybe an aviak. Somebody. You go everywhere, look for food everywhere, you see many.

- We didn't see anything! Nothing! Nothing! Didn't see anyone! Little food! Food! Food! When is the reward? When? When?

When you do something useful. Away.

The maid tossed the squeaky quartet away into the darkness, and I returned to my search. I had to climb three more lanes to find absolutely nothing. After sending everyone into the Darkness, I went home.

My home within the capital is on the Street of Crossed Swords in an area called Quiet Hill, or Aldorn in the old Tencris speech. This, of course, is not the Imperial Gardens, but just right for me. The house stands on the corner of the eastern embankment, the Street of Crossed Swords rests at one end on the bridge leading to the Shadow Quarter, and on the other to the Duelist Square, where quite bloody fights between noble gentlemen or thanes were once fought. Housing prices in Silent Hill would be much higher if some of its windows, in particular, such as mine, did not overlook the notorious Shadow Quarter. It is impossible to count all the urban legends that told terrible stories about that memorable day that happened more than three centuries ago, when Darkness broke into our world and hungry shadows attacked the capital, massacring half the city's population.

Late winter morning, gray and calm and dreary, just the way I like it. Starkrar had not yet woken up and shaken the last of the night frost from his black and gray fur, the workers of the northeastern slums were just about to emerge from their stone barracks to once again push forward the power of Meskian industry. Starkrar's winter is grey, cold, foggy and evil... I love it. Sebastina and I entered the hallway of an old four-story building.

“Would you like some tea, master?” Or warm up after a walk in the cold?

- Coffee. Black, Chilon and no sugar, to my office.

Feeling my numb nose, I went to my room and, as always, walking along the hall, hung with portraits of my ancestors, shivered. Since I was a child, I have hated those fixed, evaluative glances. I would like to send all my maternal grandfathers and great-grandmothers to the firebox, but the old cobra will not leave it just like that! Under the gaze of these thanes and tanyas, I lived from birth until my mother died and my father disappeared without a trace. In this very house.

I turned and looked around at my ancestors. With soundless sighs, they froze in their original positions, looking ahead. Only the father, who got a place in the darkest corner, smiled with a fanged grin and sparkled with ruby ​​eyes.

Your approval means a lot to me.

The father nodded.

Much later, having become a man and having gained complete independence from my relatives, I returned to the empty house of my childhood, a house of ill repute. I bought all the rights to the land and building from the authorities of the city and began to live in it with the servants, which I carefully selected, and Sebastina, who has always been a part of me.

My office is small and cozy. In some rooms, I inexplicably develop agoraphobia, so I prefer rooms with clear boundaries and no echo. Adjacent to my workplace is a chain of "useful" rooms, primarily a room for a collection of weapons. The gunshot does not appeal to me, unlike the cold one. The walls of the collection hall are decorated with sabers, broadswords, rapiers, swords and checkers, on the shelves they remember the days of former glory, battle axes and swords left over from ancient times. Those of them that have been in battle and have scratches and notches are considered especially valuable. On numerous shelves in cases are stored items that cause my deep respect, namely, knives and daggers of various shapes and purposes. Throwing, combat, hunting and medical. But it is not they who occupy a special place in my heart, but those exhibits which I carefully keep in the guest reception room. Concealed weapons are my passion. Hidden blades, miniature revolvers popping out of the sleeve, canes - blowpipes with poisoned darts and other murder weapons that at first glance seem harmless household items and are not striking. For my love of such things, I was considered from my youth to be a villainous creature, keeping a poison-smeared dagger for every noble thane in the Starkrar High Military Academy. Therefore, I try not to advertise this hobby, and so the reputation is bad. Also, along the chain, a training room and a library are adjacent to the office, in which I drink coffee more often than read. which at first glance seem to be harmless household items and are not striking. For my love of such things, I was considered from my youth to be a villainous creature, keeping a poison-smeared dagger for every noble thane in the Starkrar High Military Academy. Therefore, I try not to advertise this hobby, and so the reputation is bad. Also, along the chain, a training room and a library are adjacent to the office, in which I drink coffee more often than read. which at first glance seem to be harmless household items and are not striking. For my love of such things, I was considered from my youth to be a villainous creature, keeping a poison-smeared dagger for every noble thane in the Starkrar High Military Academy. Therefore, I try not to advertise this hobby, and so the reputation is bad. Also, along the chain, a training room and a library are adjacent to the office, in which I drink coffee more often than read.

The switchblade on the forearm of my left hand is my pride and one of the greatest jewels in my collection. An inconspicuous ring on the little finger is connected to the blade mechanism with a thin metal thread. It is necessary to bend the hand back to the limit, as the mechanism with a click reveals to the world a sharply honed blade. I've always had a hard time keeping myself from playing with these weapons just for the nice metallic sound. I'm too afraid of premature wear, a little thing from the East, you just can't fix it in Starkrar.

“Your coffee, master. Louis made croissants and apricot marmalade. Your latest issue of The Imperial Prophet and Rumors of Starkrar.

Let's start with pulp fiction.

Master, may I ask?

- Try. I plunged into reading the front page of the newspaper with the most dubious reputation in the city and took a cup of fragrant thick coffee.

- Why are you reading this? In the markets at Rumors of Starkrar, they only wrap fish.

– The worldview of market traders is very important to me, their authoritative opinion is about to change my worldview ... Oh, look, the shares of the shipping company have crept up again!

After skimming through a couple of articles, I pushed the sheets of cheap paper aside and took up the croissant. The turn of the "Imperial Prophet" has come.

- Finally! What we all have been waiting for so long has happened!

“Did your horse finally come first, master?”

- This nag? Rather, the Moon will simply accept the Persistent in Shelan! I'm talking about Maldis! The uprising in the province is completely suppressed, our troops are restoring the last orders, the maharaja-rebel Moakan Singh has not yet been captured, but he has not been roaming the jungle for a century. It is possible that General Stubbs, the hero of this conflict, will be lowered from above by the rank of governor general. True, he would first return to Starkrar to lead the parade and personally accept the title with regalia. They write that they will throw the banners of the recalcitrant Maldiz on the ground. Great Moon, and I was among those who sent the former Maharaja to a new earthly incarnation ... Can you imagine how the veterans would feel if we lost Maldiz this time? Truly, an empire begins to perish when it stops expanding, and the Emperor knows it!