In a black void a child-like faceless marble statue sat still on the floor. It counted the moments that passed, wondering when Sviatoslav would return. Ever since it was briefly brought out of its cage and to the council curiosity slowly began refilling its mind. It wondered at its future. Would it be brought out again? Would Sviatoslav bring it to a new place full of people?
In a flash the void around turned white and Sviatoslav appeared, dressed in fancy blue robes like usual but unlike usual annoyance was etched into every line of his face. A wave of nausea hit the child at the sight of Sviatoslav. It pushed down the oncoming wave of fear and emptied its mind.
Sviatoslav muttered incessantly and began pacing around the void of a room talking about contracts and councils, anger tinging every syllable he spoke.
“Fucking bastards the whole lot of them! They discredit my work, my accomplishments because of a stupid plague! So what if citizens die, they die all the time! Cowards, ever last one of them.”
Sviatoslav’s face grew redder and redder.
“Idiots, fools, cowards! GAH! It sickens me to my core! Their idiocy will be the death of the Caserine Empire!”
A tirade of expletives spilled out from Sviatoslav's mouth. When Sviatoslav finally stopped his ranting he was breathing deeply.
“I will not let the empire die, especially not because of moronic councilors.”
Sviatoslav calmed himself, letting his previous fury cool to a silent rage and turned to stare at the child.
“Subject Seventeen, with the ability to bend its form and conjure illusions… Yes… Yes… That could work…”
An eerie smile split Sviatoslav’s face, a brilliant and terrible plan forming in his mind.
“Subject Seventeen, form a contract with me, I have use for your particular set of skills..”
—
534 years, 8 months and 21 days since the great dying and the founding of the current world.
Seventeen stood, looking at itself reflected in a mirror. It was greeted with the sight of a fancily dressed fat old man. Affluence practically filled every part of the reflection, from aggressively ostentatious flowing golden robes, to a face that even while resting appeared to look down on the whole world. It was the exact image of Councilor Andrey Kalita, head treasurer of the Caserine Empire, appointed by way of unanimous vote from the council of 400.
Crouching down Seventeen checked that the unconscious Councilor Andrey on the floor was still alive. It felt for Councilor Andrey’s pulse and found it faint but steady. Good, if he was dead then the plan would be worse than a failure. With a grunt Seventeen stuffed the body of the fat councilor under the bed and puffed out an illusion to disguise the body, it should make it so that he would not be discovered for the time being. The plan called for him to be found quickly, but not to be found immediately.
After brushing its hands clean Seventeen stood and checked its face in the mirror once more, going for one last search for any potential flaws in the disguise. It spotted one, a small patch underneath its chin showed white stony skin. The flaw was tiny in size, barely the size of a nail's head and likely wouldn’t ever be spotted by anyone but Seventeen would spare no chances. Sviatoslav had drilled into its head the importance of imitating the Councilor perfectly. Seventeen concentrated and illusory mists covered the previously exposed patch with the unhealthy pinkish skin that Councilor Andrey possessed. Its disguise should now be flawless.
Seventeen walked through Councilor Andrey’s incredibly well furnished bedroom, filled with elaborate tapestries plastered across every wall, golden fixtures hanging from the ceiling, and fine animal skin rugs of countless different species turning the floor into a zoo of the dead. The room was the absolute picture of money, prestige and wealth.
House Kalita was one of the ancient great houses of the Caserine Empire, present during its founding until the present day. The house's long and illustrious service for the Caserine Empire could be seen from the accumulated splendor of this room alone.
Imitating the Councilor’s mannerisms Seventeen walked with the heavy, burdened steps of a man who ate and drank far more than they exercised, and made its way to the room’s door where it paused to gather itself. Seventeen, altered its posture straightening its back, holding its head obnoxiously high, and folding its arms behind it in noble fashion.
A stab of fear caused it to hesitate but it needed to proceed with the mission Master Sviatoslav had tasked it with. Failure was not an option, Sviatoslav had told it in no uncertain terms that failure would be bad, worse than anything it had ever experienced. Reservations quelled, Seventeen swung the resting room’s doors open and into the manor. Seventeen walked ponderously forwards, pretending its heavy form burdened it. The mental map of Kalita manor that it had burned into its memory guided it to the grand hall where a party for the affluent had been set up.
As Seventeen walked through the halls it began imitating the Councilor’s movements even more precisely. It imitated the waddle and slight limp of the Councilor that came from too much food and a horse riding accident many years ago. It cradled its left arm close to its person as the limb was non-functional due to a birth defect leaving it partially withered and mostly useless.
As Seventeen continued down the manor’s grand halls, men and women began wordlessly following behind, prepared to attend to their lord’s any needs. Their black and white uniforms signified them as serfs of the manor. The stepping of their feet behind demonstrated their commitment in taking care of their lord at any time, any place, anywhere.
Eyes observing its every move was not something Seventeen wanted. As Master Sviatoslav had taught it, more eyes meant more potential to spot the tiniest discrepancy in its disguise. With so many watching it couldn’t act even the tiniest bit suspicious. The Councilor was a man who typically ignored the serfs' existences completely, only speaking to them to issue a command or to punish them. Sending them away would be out of character and Seventeen needed to play the character of the Councilor flawlessly.
Thankfully, the serf threat only lasted briefly as Seventeen rounded a corner and arrived at its destination quickly.
It arrived at the Grand Hall of Kalita Manor, a massive space large enough that it could easily hold a ball for a thousand dancers simultaneously. More impressive than just its size was the hall’s opulence. Every wall had tapestries woven from golden and silver threads adorning them. Together the tapestries told the long histories and sagas of the Caserine Empire.
The first tapestry depicted the scene of a woman weeping at the center of a pile of bodies, the night of grandest deceit it was called, the event where the Golden Khaganate betrayed Tsarina Caserine and unknowingly ended their own empire.
The next depicted Tsarina Caserine at the head of a grand army, sacrificing the Golden Khaganate’s rulers and soldiers to a grander host of demons and other Kontraktniki. Seventeen spotted Sverodo’s many limbed form among them.
Following that were the stories of various Tsars and Tsarinas, their triumphs and failures, all in an unbroken line across the Grand Hall’s walls until ending when reaching the present with the crowning of the current Tsarina, Constantina.
Capping off all of the opulence was a domed ceiling painted with tributes to house Kalita’s contributions to the empire, going over each notable member of the house by name and accomplishments, the descriptions imprinted with golden lettering.
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Kalita Manor’s grand hall fitted its namesake, it truly was a grand hall.
Seventeen made its way to a raised platform and stood, waiting to welcome the party goers arrival. On queue the doors to the hall opened and nobles from all corners of the empire began entering, dressed in the typical foppish clothing of the too well to do. Colors and styles of all spectrums were worn, from traditional Caserine garb to dresses and suits imported from faraway foreign lands. Every last one of the nobles had worn something different to stand out and Seventeen noted as a result none of them did.
The thousand or so nobles entered the hall and despite their chaotic choices of clothing they moved in an orderly fashion. The nobles quickly settled themselves, forming into groups of their respective houses and house allies, and exchanging pleasantries.
Seventeen cleared its throat and addressed the crowd, making sure to add a slight rasp and slur that the Councilor Andrey spoke with.
“Welcome dear distinguished guests from across the empire, I welcome you all warmly to my humble abode. I hope your trips here were pleasant and free of troubles. Today we are gathered here to celebrate the 200th year of House Kalita’s service to the Caserine Empire. For 200 years our house has prospered alongside Caserine and her people. For the fortunes that we have been blessed with these many years I must give thanks to our Tsars and Tsarinas as well as everyone of you gathered here today for without you all my house may never have grown to where it is now. Let the celebrations begin and let tonight be a night to remember!”
The crowd cheered and clapped at the speech and the party started. Nobles began intermingling with one another and serfs began carrying in lavish assortments of foods and drinks. With the arrival of the banquet the party began in earnest. Nobles were chattering with one another and intermittently sipping on the drinks provided, a few of the less scrupulous nobles began drowning themselves in the provided beverages, turning flush with the buzz of alcohol. Through the mass of partying bodies a few distinct groups formed.
Seventeen stepped off the podium and began making its way to a group of men dressed in a uniform fashion. As a result of their uniformity the group stood out from the rest of the nobles' myriad clothing in attendance. The men wore the dark greens accented with red and gold that signified them as military men.
As organizer of the event Councilor Andrey was the “head” of the room, meaning that for this one night he was the most important man. Among the many privileges of being the head one of them was that guests were only allowed to speak with Councilor Andrey when spoken too, allowing Seventeen to move through the crowd without being stopped once.
Seventeen arrived at the gathering of military men and spoke to them.
“Welcome General Stepan, I hope you’re finding the amenities pleasant.”
The General swished the glass of wine he held in his hand.
“Councilor Andrey, compared to the food on the front line this is ambrosia. Honestly you’d probably have to challenge your chefs to cook something I couldn’t stomach.”
“HA! That’s true! I must thank you and all the men who served for their sacrifice, I don’t think I’d last a day on the front.”
“Nonsense you’d probably be able to feed the whole army for two days at least with how much you weigh.”
“HAH! I’ve worked hard to build my body up, give me my credit I’d be able to feed your men for a week!”
Both men chuckled before a serious face took over General Stepan.
“I know that this is a time of celebration but I must inform you of some bad news.”
“Oh” Seventeen pretended to perk up.
“Keep this information confidential. Casmir has begun marshaling his forces close to the borders, we don’t know if he plans on invading or is just holding a large scale military exercise regardless however, we must be careful. The army is still in the process of rebuilding, we can’t afford a fight right now.”
General Stepan took a deep breath before continuing.
“As much as it pains me to ask, I must ask for your house’s continued financial aid in paying tribute to King Casmir. We are still not yet ready for any kind of war.”
Seventeen stroked its flabby double chin and pretended to deliberate before speaking.
“Have you heard of the saying "give a man a year to complete his work and the man will complete his work in a year. Give a man two weeks to complete his work and he'll complete it in two weeks." The army has been rebuilding for nearly two years now, I believe that should be more than enough time for it to rebuild. I hope you understand that my house may be wealthy but we cannot conjure gold from thin air. My house has helped enough in this matter, giving more money would be a wasteful expenditure.”
The general bowed his head.
“Please reconsider your decision for the good of the empire, Councilor.”
After addressing the general, Seventeen walked around the banquet hall, making sure to talk with all of Councilor Andrey’s allies and drinking copious amounts of alcohol the whole while. A pleasant thing about Seventeen’s constitution was that it couldn’t get drunk or for that matter get poisoned. Thanks to its unique constitution it made fulfilling this part of the mission far easier and would help make its actions seem completely authentic.
As more and more alcohol was drunk and the party became more and more raucous Seventeen made sure to begin slurring its words and reddening its face with the telltale after effects of alcohol. Seventeen was socializing with the head of House Romanov when the critical point of the plan began.
A military officer, young and brash, was approaching. Sviatoslav’s plan was coming to fruition, the machinations, the spying, the countless hours spent memorizing pieces of information were about to bear fruit.
The officer stormed in and interrupted their conversation.
“Councilor Andrey, you must absolutely reconsider your decision.”
Seventeen made sure to act drunk and annoyed when responding.
“Whaddya want boy?”
The young officer’s face turned angry.
“What I want? Do you not know what I’m here for?”
Seventeen turned to address the young officer.
“I don’t.”
“I’m here for what’s best for the Empire and what’s best for the empire is for your house to continue payments!”
“Why should I do that? If rude brats like you are the best the military has to offer, spending more money would be pointless.”
The young officer’s face turned red with rage.
“Listen you idiot if another war with Casmir breaks out the Empire will suffer and by proxy you will suffer as well. Unless you have a death wish you NEED to continue assisting in paying tribute.”
Seventeen acted enraged letting the illusion covering its face redden, eyes bulge, and veins pop.
“I’ve done more for the empire before you were even an itch in your father’s cock! If the Caserine Empire is truly threatened isn’t it your job to fix it or better yet why doesn’t the Tsarina fix the problem? Are you all a bunch of idiots!”
“You short sighted pig! All you think about is yourself, fattening your pockets and your bodies, thinking nothing about the good of the Empire!”
“You little shit!”
Seventeen spoke a two word command and a power lent to him by Sviatoslav activated.
“Sverodo, Derzhat!”
The young officer was grabbed by an invisible hand that then mulched him, crushing his organs and bones and, in an instant, bathing the surroundings in waves of blood.
Seventeen continued ranting.
“You, the Tsarina, the military, all stupid useless bastards!”
With those words uttered a spell of shock overtook the hall. The gathering of nobles stared at the violent murder that had occurred and a deathly silence filled the hall.
“THE PARTY IS OVER!”
Seventeen turned around and left the stunned hall, walking back into Kalita Manor. As Seventeen walked the crowd of nobles parted to allow Seventeen through without trouble. The pile of gore on the floor undoubtedly made them hesitant to try to stop it.
As Seventeen left the Grand Hall and entered the lesser corridors of the manor, serfs followed but the blood that trailed from Seventeen’s robes made them fearful. The sight of what had happened earlier broke through the serfs' normally stoic demeanors and they shook as they dutifully followed their master. It Was a great credit to House Kalita's training that not one of the serfs present tried to scurry off and hide.
Moving through the manor Seventeen arrived at the doors of the master bedroom and entered. Seventeen waited until the sounds of the serfs disappeared before moving once more. Upon being confident in the departure of the serfs Seventeen dragged Councilor Andrey’s unconscious body out from underneath the bed and dropped the unconscious man on top of the bed’s fine purple sheets, making it seem as if he had collapsed in drunken stupor.
Seventeen let go of its disguise and morphed its body back into its natural state, shrinking and whitening until its original humanoid marble form took over. It exhaled and formed a shroud that cloaked it in shadows and made its way to the nearby window. Seventeen took one last look and its handiwork, checking for anything that might be traced back to it. Councilor Andrey’s form began snoring, a very good sign. The plan had been executed perfectly, there was no way today’s events could ever be linked back to Sviatoslav.
Confident of the successful completion of the mission, Seventeen leapt from the window, falling a great many floors before disappearing into night.