Chapter 27
Grand Duke Vagnar sat in an absolutely throne-like chair behind a massive, lovingly carved, ancient, wooden desk. The fingers of his left hand drummed a steady beat on the pristine polished surface of the table, while his right hand lifted from time to time and flicked at a holographic image of text floating above the table. Every time he gestured as if to wipe upwards on a surface, the text moved with the motion and revealed more text below.
The data projected in front of the Grand Duke seemed to be production numbers, resource requests, workforce requirements, military reports. The sheer number of different messages and data files showed the extent of a grand duke's work requirements.
Once in a while the duke would select a recipient and a square section of the desk would suddenly change from the rich hues and pattern of ancient treated wood to a pitch black section with a full keyboard outlined and detailed on its surface using simple lines of light.
Mid-way through writing a response to a factory head's request for funds to upgrade an outdated production line, the corner of his desk suddenly lit with lines of light that lifted off the table and began to take shape.
A fully 3d and perfectly life-like image of a stunningly beautiful woman wearing an ancient style of clothing similar to a large sheet elegantly tied around her body appeared to be standing on the edge of his desk. Her image was only 8 inches tall, however. She patiently waited for the Grand Duke to notice her.
The Grand Duke straightened in his chair and swiped right across his desk. The holographic image of text before him flew off the desk in the direction of his gesture and disappeared.
"What is it Hera."
The image of the woman beamed a wide but oddly robotic smile at the grand duke before speaking.
"The agents you've sent south to track your son, the Count, have reported in. They were successful in their mission to retrieve the black box data."
"Finally. Maybe I can get some answers."
The Grand Duke had been in a state of worry for nearly a month. His third and most cherished son had slipped away with nothing more than two transport helicopters, two escort attack helicopters and one of his officer's old world light assault armor.
It took nearly a week for his agents to figure out that his son was chasing treasure. Through meticulous work, his agents found an information broker his son had made deals with shortly before leaving.
After some choice words from a few agents in a dark and cold basement, the broker sang like a bird.
The grand duke's darling boy had found some information. He had found the location of... something. His talks with the broker and the map data he purchased showed he had a great interest in an area to the south. Close to a crappy little city named grey rock city. That basically insinuated one thing. An ancient cache of weapons or tech.
It didn't surprise him that his third son would try obtaining whatever he found by himself. As the third son, he had always felt left out of the hierarchy of power within the family. He had been oppressed by his older brothers all his life. Hence, he tended to be rebellious and independent. The grand duke Vagnar wondered if it had to do with wanting his approval.
He wished his Third son had more talent. If he had, his situation would be different. Despite the grand duke's love for his son, he was disappointed with him.
He thought too highly of his own limited skill. He was arrogant, brash, prone to anger, jealousy, and made stupid decisions. How could he hand such a son responsibility and power?
Better to keep him home. Let him chase girls and enjoy his high born status. Let his more talented brothers fight for the seat of power. However, his third son disagreed with his father's plans. His greed for power wouldn't allow that. He wanted a seat at the big boy table.
His son's little adventure wasn't panic worthy until news of a massive nuclear explosion came from the south. The agents sent to try and catch up and keep tabs on his son reported in nearly two weeks ago that the explosion was in the area his son could possibly have gone.
8 days ago it was confirmed that the wreckage of helicopters matching those brought by his son was found at the outskirts of the blast. The duke immediately ordered that the black box of at least one helicopter be retrieved and sent more agents in.
It was a hard task considering the wreckage had already been collected by other forces. However, he had sent his best agents to track his son, and there were not many missions they failed at. Bribery was the go-to tool of his agents. Cold blooded murder was the second option, sometimes the first.
Grand Duke Vagnar dismissed the AI named Hera and began bringing up the relevant data to hover above his desk. He preferred to watch and interpret the information himself. An AI was horrible at breaking down information and giving a full report. It was just something about AI.
He had heard AI being called "dumb" before. A respected engineer once told him that AIs were "good at fulfilling tasks and crunching numbers, but not so good at deep thought."
Apparently even the ancients did not build "intelligent AI". They banned the creation of such AI. Seeing as basically all new world tech is a poor copy of old world tech, there was no way current society, that hadn't even caught up with ancient society, could make their own smart AI. The Grand Duke disagreed with the ancient's decision. A smart AI would be an amazingly useful weapon in his opinion.
Grand duke Vagnar sat in his plush chair with a deep frown on his face. Above his desk, a holographic video of trees seen from above was playing. The trees shot by from front to back attesting to the camera's movement speed.
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Audio could be heard as well. The voices if multiple males talked across a channel. Direction, wind speed, times, crosswinds. It was pilot chatter.
Grand Duke Vagnar made a gesture with his hand and the recording speed up. He kept his eyes glued to the image until suddenly the constant and monotonous trees disappeared to reveal wasteland. The sped up chatter of the pilots, that now sounded like small animals chittering, also changed in tone.
He slowed the recording and watched with narrowed eyes as the helicopter pilots zeroed in on a signal, no doubt released by his son. Grand Duke Vagnar grew more and more confused as he continued watching.
He sat in stunned silence when his son's Armor raised its weapon and fired at the attack helicopter. The image went black and the recording ended. After a full minute of silence, the grand duke selected a new file.
His agents had more than come through on the mission and acquired 3 of the 4 black boxes. The viewpoint of the second attack helicopter immediately appeared and he skipped right to the part he left off on the other recording.
He zoomed in and felt horror when he realized his son's armor had taken a nearly direct hit from a missile shot from the first attack helicopter. If the pilot that shot that missile was standing in from of the grand duke now, he would no doubt be bleeding on the immaculate and expensive carpet from extensive bleeding due to torture.
After he managed his anger, the Grand Duke watched the rest of the recording that ended with the nuclear blast and felt puzzlement. His son was not very talented. That was a fact. However, he wasn't untrained. His reaction and his movements didn't match what he knew of his son. He rewatched the recording over and over to make sure.
Every male of the Vagnar line must be trained in combat to at least a competent level no matter where they stood in the line of succession. His son was not showing any of that training. He wasn't trying to jam the missiles lock. He avoided the missile in an odd way considering how he was trained. Even the way he aimed his weapon and took a firing stance was odd.
His son was trained in the same way all Vangar males were. Even he, himself trained in the same methods. The more the grand duke thought about it, the greater his dread. He eventually came to the conclusion he didn't want to contemplate but had to admit.
His son wasn't operating the Light assault armor. Someone else had been piloting it. The grand duke knew what that meant. Outside his armor, in the wilderness of the untamed zone further inland, alone... His son was most likely dead. His murderer was most likely the pilot of his son's armor.
Based on the data from the black box and some number crunching done by the massive computer system available to him, he was able to determine that there was a solid chance the killer survived the concussive hit and radiation from the nuclear blast.
He now wished the helicopter pilots had been successful in their attempted attacks. He inwardly cursed them for their failure and spoke.
"Hera."
The beautiful image of the woman appeared at the corner of his desk again.
"Yes?"
The Grand Duke Vagnar stroked his mustache before speaking with narrowed eyes.
"Contact the team leader of the minstrel agent cell. He is to be standing in my office in less than 20 minutes. Tell him I will be very disappointed if I am made to wait."
He was sure that would be more than enough to get his agent moving. He would understand the hidden meaning of his Lord's words. The Grand Duke tended to prefer a more "subtle" approach to control his agents and knights.
As he waited, the Grand Duke began to compile and arrange the orders he would give the no doubt panting man when he arrived.
Anyone who had ANYTHING to do with his son would be investigated. No matter how small the link. Especially those who were in his son's group. The knights, and the scavengers.those who supplied the trip. Engineers. Even their families. Heads would roll. He didn't care. He would murder a thousand innocent people to find his sons killer. Even burning Grey Rock City to the ground would be nothing in the scheme of things to him.
He would need to receive some cooperation from the city lord if possible. That wouldn't be too hard. Either through bribery or fear, the lord would no doubt agree. If the lord had half a brain, he would know cooperating with a northern lord such as a grand duke would be profitable. Not cooperating would be painful and expensive. Possibly fatal.
He would send every available agent he had. His son's killer would not escape the massive net he would set up. The Grand Duke would torture the man himself if possible. He had promised himself that, at the very least, he would feed the mans dead body to core beasts by his own hands.
As he fantasized about sweet vengeance and bloody murder, there was a knock at the door and the image of Hera appeared again.
"The agent has arrived."
The grand duke of the Vagnar duchy, a man who ruled 5 massive cities, millions of people, and extensive armed forces, smiled before speaking.
"Let him in."
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I sat in the corner of a nearly empty café located on a backroad while sipping at a cup filled with something called "cappuccino". It seemed very similar to coffee, but it tasted sweet and creamy. It had a thicker consistency and a great aroma. The mix of bitter and sweet tastes was amazing.
My eyes tracked around the room impatiently as I waited. The man I was waiting for should arrive at any moment. The new watch strapped to my wrist told me there was only a minute left until the designated meeting time.
Getting into contact with Jarrod had ended up being a good decision. Despite my inability to use his services openly due to his current status as a social hot potato, his knowledge had been invaluable. After talking with the man for less than 30 minutes, I decided to hire him as an advisor.
Through him, I was able to get what I really wanted. A contact. The sort of contact no amount of digging on the net would get me. Those with true skill didn't have their names and business listed on the net for all to see. If you wanted to do business with these types of heavyweight players, you had to know someone, or wait to be approached.
I didn't have time to wait, and I wouldn't stand out enough. I also didn't know anyone personally. Hence, Jarrod. We were both happy with the arrangement. There seemed to be a huge weight lifted off Jarrod's shoulder when I handed him 100 gold as his first month's salary.
At one point the man would have probably scoffed at the amount and told me to buzz off. That man was long gone, however. I guessed he died somewhere in the wilderness. Possibly it happened when he returned to find everything he had built had been taken by the banks and that his family was now living in squalor.
No matter, his new reality, and attitude had made him the perfect secret employee. He immediately set about poking holes in the already skeletal plan I had begun pulling together. My amateurish plan had put a gentle smile on his face as he shook his head like a father watching his child do something silly.
Cutting to the point, he asked me how important it was that the job is done right. I told him the truth. It had to be accomplished at all costs. He had actually shown empathy when I told him what, or more accurately, who I wanted to retrieve from grey rock city.
"That's not something you gamble on. If you have the ability to pay, go for the best."
He looked down at the tablet full of the data I had already pulled together and placed before him.
"Some of these options are good, but under the circumstances, like the time limit and the state of security in the area, you need the best. If you are trying to do this on a budget, I would choose among these options. But if you have the money to spend and you want the best, you won't find the name you need here. If it was a few years ago, I could have accomplished the task on my own..."
He tapped his finger on the table before continuing.
"No, you need Markus Valerino. He's the best. However, he is the most expensive. You don't get to bargain. He states a price. You pay or he walks. You pay up front as well."
After explaining the man's reputation and ability to me, I agreed with his assessment. I needed the best. I wouldn't try to pinch copper coins when my mother's well-being was on the line.
As such, here I sat, in a cafe that despite its slow business had a comfortable and elegant feel to its interior. The drinks were delicious and the music soothing.
Moments before I was about to order another drink, the bell hanging from the front door rang and I shifted my sight from the pretty waitress to the doorway.
A large shaven-headed black man, a rarity here, stepped through the frame of the doorway and stood straight and firm while his eyes traced every corner of the room before landing on me.
His height was nearly the same as my own and he had long arms. A very nasty looking pistol sat on his hip and my improved eyesight caught what looked to be the same exact type of discrete body armor I wore, under his clothes. He had the air of an extremely competent killer.
He stood in place watching me for a moment with his cold dark eyes, before stepping forward and to the side.
Another man stepped into the room and nodded to the big black man in a friendly manner. It looked like the man was saying "thanks for the good work" without words.
The second man was slightly portly with pale skin, grey hair, and brown eyes. I guessed his age to be in his early fifties. Despite his jolly smile and portly look, I didn't get the feeling this was a simple man at all. His eyes came to rest on me and his smile broadened.
After speaking to the waitress and pointing to my table, the man and his big bodyguard strolled over to my table. His bodyguard maintained caution at all times and his hand never wandered more than a few inches from his weapon. He somehow managed to make it seem natural and simply a part of his movement.
"Have you tried the pastries? They are to die for. Simply the best in the city."
The man, who I assumed to be Markus, sat across the table from me with a gentle smile that gave me the impression of an old timer out for a stroll and enjoying life.
His bodyguard, on the other hand, sat at another table about 3 meters from our table and stared at me whenever he wasn't scanning the room and doorway with his eyes. Once again, I noticed his hand never strayed away from easy reach of his gun.
"No. I haven't. I'll have to make sure to do so."
I reached across the table and offered my hand to him in my best attempt at matching his own demeanor.
"My name is Caleb. It's a pleasure to meet you."