Far away, beyond the reach of the Ouroboros corporation, a revenant glided across the well-lit hallways. Even if they still had plenty of time before the banquet, Ajax’s pace was urgent and deliberate. Still, his entourage shadowed each long stride he took without much effort.
The faceless soldiers, the “Palace Guard” as they were called, were like a ball and chain dangling from his feet, slowing him down to a crawl as he made his way to a very important meeting. He’d much rather drag along his own men, but they were currently busy with more important matters. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it. It was customary for the highest rung of Empire officials to not move unattended, and General Hyena was not one to disregard customs, even if they were not to his liking.
He embraced tradition.
He embraced duty.
“Unlike some within these great walls…”
His stride soon had him standing in front of an elevator. Its gold and silver doors - modest, yet somehow dignified with all the engravings decorating its surface.
With a glance at one, he saw the fall of the last Russian rebellion etched into gold and closed his eyes with faint indignation. It certainly was a great success, how the Empire subdued an entire nation-wide uprising within hours, but the event also had its own set of troubling results.
Ajax glanced back, skimming over the Palace soldiers and stopping his gaze on the source of his never-ending headaches.
Adjutant Blaz stood there, her existence ever infuriating, even now that she was putting on a facade of officiality when surrounded by third parties.
But he knew better than that.
He knew that this thing was simply waiting for the right moment to whittle away at his sanity with a mocking smile plastered all over her disgusting, inhuman face, away from prying eyes. Away from witnesses.
She met his gaze, her expression unchanged.
In her eye, however, he could see a glint of sadistic joy mixed with a wicked awareness that whatever happened between them would stay only between them.
He broke the staring contest with disdain bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin. Every molecule of his very being screaming for a release. But he knew better. He was better.
He would not be defeated by this childish mind game. He had his obligations to fulfill. To the country. To the Emperor. He’d sooner fall over dead than let that stain on the Empire’s history stand in the way of his duty.
Things were about to go into motion, historic things, and he had a hand in them. He’d be the spearhead of the coming change in this country, so held back by stagnation that had infected its very core. But to do that, he’d have to start from the very bottom. He’d have to eliminate the traitors that this beautiful, yet misguided country had been harboring for much too long, starting with the so-called “hero”. A man so useless and spent, yet somehow allowed to live through sheer mercy of the Emperor.
But no more. That ends soon.
The word was that he did not heed his warning and made contact with enemy cells. The rest was not important. That should be enough to rationalize taking any necessary steps to neutralize this new threat to this country’s integrity and the safety of its people.
Ares was too deeply involved with the state, after all, and despite any honey-glazed words of “honor” and official commendations written within the decree that dismissed him from duty all those years ago, he was still a threat of unimaginable magnitude when in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it just so happened that he marched right into those circumstances, putting a bullseye right on top of his head for Hyena to strike with precision worthy of his station.
Ajax scoffed, entering the elevator and standing at its very center.
In reality, he did not even need to mention Ares’ involvement with the Ouroboros affairs. He just had to obliterate whatever unit he was in, and there was enough reason to do so, considering just how dangerous any cargo those traitorous wretches could possibly carry really was.
Ouroboros was never with the Empire, and it was truly fortunate that they’d shown their true colors sooner rather than later. It would make his job of exterminating them that much easier, now that they were still on the grid.
The soldiers took their places around General Hyena, their regal uniforms glistening in the light of the small crystal chandelier above, just a cut above the standard-issue combat suits of the rank-and-file.
Veronica Blaz took her place at his side, her stone-cold gaze now completely unreadable. Not that Ajax was ever going to read into the mind of the insane.
“There is no rhyme, nor reason. Only impulses and instincts, and hers are wildly destructive.” - he thought to himself, not dignifying the creature with a second glance.
The elevator moved upwards, prompted by the push of a button.
It moved gently, almost impossibly so, yet quickly. Another marvel of Imperial technology.
- How much time until the banquet starts? - Ajax Daunt asked with a steady voice.
- 30 minutes, General. - one of the guards answered, his words stiff and tone trained.
- Excellent. You will run a check on the hall in that time-frame. Search for any foreign devices and unaccounted personnel.
- It has already–
- It is an order. - he commanded with undivided authority.
- Understood, sir. - the entourage answered as one with a click of their heels.
Daunt needed time alone in the hall.
Or, as alone as he could get with the wretch stuck to his side.
Without a doubt he was not going to be the only one arriving early, and despite his aversion towards this particular person of interest, he needed data only “he” could provide. Time was of the essence, as that info played a critical role within his plans regarding the cleansing.
The Heavenly General’s eyes locked with another piece of fine art etched into the walls of the elevator.
The Emperor’s ascension to the throne and his conquest of Europe.
“What a magnificent sight it must have been.” - he thought to himself. - “If only I could have been there to help.”
The elevator slowed down and came to a stop.
The doors parted, and the guards spilled out first, forming a path forward. Hyena fastened his tie, ensured that his beret wasn’t crooked, and moved along.
The outfit he took for the banquet wasn’t anything extraordinary. It was the same gray military coat he wore on official business occasions. The only accessory that deviated from the norm was a bunch of medals adorning his chest.
Just like the Palace guards in their beautiful outfits, they were part of the decorum required for such gatherings of the higher society. But unlike the soldiers, Daunt wholeheartedly abhorred those cheap trinkets. A true patriot distinguished himself through action, not laurel wreaths thrown over his head, they were as pointless to him as the ornamental spade residing within the scabbard Veronica carried.
No soldier needed a dull blade. No country needed a dull soldier.
- Heavenly General. - his secretary whispered from behind. - Your prey is on the dance floor, two-o-clock…
The way she worded it made him shoot a glance towards her, but her eyes were obscured by a blue fringe, much longer than a few hours ago. It is another abhorrent trait of her ilk. With a little stimulation, she could grow her hair out as long as she wanted. All she needed to do was damage her scalp over and over again, which she probably did without any hesitation. As disgusting as the knowledge about regenerators was, there was also a silver lining. Eventually, Veronica would feed Daunt enough information about herself for him to be able to dispose of her easily. Her and any of her disgusting brethren, should the need arise.
- Heavenly General, if you continue staring at me like that, I’ll have to file for sexual harassment in the workplace. - and there it came, her exaggerated grin.
- Follow me. - he ignored the remark, before turning towards the Palace guards. - At ease and dismissed.
In perfect unison, the soldiers saluted, before scattering in different directions, probably given new specific orders through the comms.
Returning to the task at hand, Ajax Daunt began walking towards the other member of the upper military echelon. His peer, who was casually leaning against one of the ivory pillars on the edges of the designated dancing area. But somehow it didn’t seem out of place. There were few people populating the area, but that was to be expected. After all, they were both early. Twenty-five minutes, to be exact, before the Emperor’s son made his grand entrance that always officially started events like this one.
What was this one’s purpose?
Joint oil-rig contract between The Empire and Kintsugi Union. It was supposed to be a 50/50 split between both countries, both in terms of facility ownership and income. Quite a grandiose occasion, considering that a 100 people strong delegation from Kintsugi Union would be allowed to enter and enjoy themselves within the Imperial Palace.
It has been 5 years since the last meeting with a foreign superpower on the Empire's soil. That’s why Palace guards have been mobilized, and all Heavenly Generals would be attending the banquet. Not because they were needed, but because it was a political maneuver. Simple power projection.
Making the most well known and respected people within the Empire after the Royal Family attend served as a show of power, integrity and a warning, in an event that the Union would try to flex their oriental might.
Despite all that, to Ajax himself, the whole banquet played second fiddle. What he was really after was the information he could get from within, here, where his “colleague” couldn’t simply hide behind a wall of formalities.
- Heavenly General “Cicada”. - he spoke, finally standing and towering over his man-of-the-hour. - Enjoying the beverages I see.
The man in question looked up at him lazily, not even hiding the lack of care. They both wore the same outfit, with the sole difference being Cicada’s hat, laying on the empty table nearby. Instead of the classic beret, it was an old-school cavalier hat, with a large bright yellow feather.
Leaving it lying like that was a breach of etiquette. Regrettably, the situation required Ajax to avoid getting on the other General's bad side, so he kept that comment to himself.
- Heavenly General Hyena. - the older man responded, breaking their staring contest and opting to observe other guests instead as they trickled in. - Indeed, I was enjoying a glass of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru. Want to join me?
- I’ll have to pass, I’m on duty. - the heavy accent on “was” did not elude General Daunt.
- Hmm. - Cicada cut off his response with a murmur.
- General Johansson. - Ajax didn’t allow those little jabs to deter him. - I came into possession of some interesting information recently. Perhaps you caught wind of it too, as the “Emperor's Ears”...
For the first time since he approached him, the older gentleman looked at Daunt with eyes no longer clouded with disinterest. Peering at the face covered with wrinkles, liver spots and scars, those twin-windows to the soul seemed almost uncanny.
Sharp, endlessly blue and piercing like a blade. A few years ago, Ajax might have been intimidated by that look, forced to stutter and mumble until the desire to press on with the topic fully evaporated from his mind.
But those days were nothing but a shameful memory. Now they were equal in standing, even if the old coot would never admit that openly.
So Ajax leaned slightly towards him, with the corners of his mouth moving ever so slowly upwards.
- …that a certain individual, quite important to our Empire’s illustrious history, has been partaking in shady deals behind our back. The Emperor's back. - Ajax drove a point home with strong enunciation. Each word mixed with venom dripping from his tongue.
- That’s a first for me. - Cicada responded, his tone much more commanding than before. - You’d be wise to not build your arguments on hearsay, rather opting for your secretary to carry a dossier with the topic you want to touch upon, instead of your sword.
Veronica smiled at Johansson, while he sipped from the wine glass. At that moment of dismissal, he missed the malicious smile that spread on Ajax’s face like a blaze on a dry wheat field. The dark joy was palpable on Hyena’s face.
The younger of the two buried his hand under a heavy coat and revealed a dossier, closed tightly with an Imperial seal. General Daunt slowly walked over to the table where Cicada’s hat lay dormant, as if enjoying each step on the spotless marble floor. He took a seat, pushed the hat aside, and placed the file in its place. His eyes, peering at the senior soldier, beckoned him to take a seat.
Heavenly General Marcus “Cicada” Johansson knew he had no choice but to oblige.
No matter what resided within that dossier, if he didn’t open it here, breaking the Imperial Seal, Daunt would move around with that carcass in his jaws, bringing it to someone higher.
Probably Prince Argos.
That would spell problems for both of them.
“Scorched Earth, is it? You little punk” - Marcus hid his annoyance deep within, reluctantly walking up to the table. - “Either I bend the knee or we all go down for gross incompetence. How zealous of you”.
Marcus sat down across Ajax, whose face returned to its neutral expression, even if the glint within his eyes betrayed how he truly felt. Cicada grabbed the file without much urgency, but just by holding it up, its seal suddenly broke.
Adjutant Blaz was the only one who paid any mind to that incomprehensible occurrence by whistling lightly.
Without further ado, the old man removed the clean stack of papers from within and proceeded to glance over it. It was a wall of text, intercut by infrared photos and an almost endless stream of black highlighters. Unfortunately for him, decades spent knee-deep in red-tape robbed his eyes of blissful ignorance, accurately filling out all the redacted bits, omitting the need to exchange any words with the other Heavenly General.
While Marcus read, a sheepish looking waiter walked up to their trio. It was part of his job to entertain the guests, no matter their station, but the sheer pressure between the two soldiers made spit in his mouth go dry. So he swallowed once, he swallowed twice.
Both men were casually sitting across each other, yet the air around them felt like a translucent battlefield.
- I’ll have whisky on ice. - a female voice nearly gave him a heart attack. - Heavenly General Hyena will have tonic water on ice, with extra lime.
- Uhm, ah, yes. - the poor service worker stumbled over any word his brain could ever conceive, before turning on his heel and waking away, feeling older by a few decades.
Cicada read on, skimming through most of the text, but at the same time working overtime in his mind as he extrapolated each and every sentence into a whole slew of causes and effects, taking educated guesses as to which arm of the military was responsible for acquiring which piece of data, discarding those less reliable and committing to memory those which could not be ignored.
If this file was prepared by his own men, he would not bother with this weird convoluted procedure, simply being able to go by what was written, but alas, he didn’t have the time, resources, or the will to train every single cell in the Empire proper espionage and reporting procedures.
Some of the info, despite good effort, was clearly unusable. Red herrings riddled the file, dead ends were everywhere, but even then it was not as bad as Marcus expected, or hoped it would be. There was a lot of actual usable info, and all of it led back to the movements of Ares, now retired from the Imperial army.
As he read, Cicada felt a twitch in his hand. An impulse to take out a red marker he always had on hand and start correcting, but he fought against it, opting to pull out a case of cigars. Withholding information was also a part of his job, and if there was a single person in the Empire who didn’t need to know more than they already did, it was Hyena.
Marcus took out one cig for himself and offered one to Daunt without much haste, which he promptly refused with a polite-yet-mocking smile only he could pull off.
- Let’s keep such expensive items for celebrations, shall we? It won’t be long, I assure you. - a twinkle appeared in his eye as he glanced towards the file on reflex.
- Oh, they are pretty cheap. I roll them myself. - Cicada exhaled, ready to pull his little case back, but stopped himself. - How about you? - he looked towards Veronica with an empty expression, one which she repaid with a knowing smile.
- Sure, thank you! - she bowed a little in gratitude. Whether it was genuine or just an act remained a mystery.
With a flick of his wrist, Marcus launched a single cigar into the air and hid the case with a slow and measured movement, not at all in a hurry to catch the object now in free fall. He didn’t even spare it a glance as a small black cloud exited his sleeve and intercepted the falling object midair. Despite how completely bizarre it was, nobody even batted an eye at this uncanny display, and Veronica took the cigar with gratitude as the thing floated its way towards her.
Ajax wanted to sigh in frustration. He hated the smell of Marcus’ cigars, and now the scent would linger not only all around them, but would follow him all day in the form of this annoying wretch at his side. Still, he kept his frustration mostly to himself, opting to straighten out his outfit to occupy both his itching hands and the running mind.
Marcus then took out a small, cheap-looking matchbox and lit his own cigar, then Veronica’s in much the same manner using the black cloud with impeccable dexterity. When the display was over, the cloud retreated under his clothes and all was normal to the outside eye once again.
General Cicada looked over the file again. There was nothing there he didn’t already know, so it was easy to keep a cool face about it. Still, the fact remained that it was more than he expected Ajax to be able to gather at such a short notice.
Despite his hotheadedness and borderline psychopathic tendencies, the young General sure worked with a dedication seldom seen even in the most loyal soldiers of the Empire. If anything ever afforded him the place among the Heavenly Generals, it was probably that single-minded focus.
- Your men did a good job. - Marcus commended, sliding the file back towards the other man.
“For their standards, anyway” - he added in his mind.
- You can keep it. - Daunt stopped the file with his hand in the middle of the table, pushing back against Marcus. - I have it all memorized.
- Memory’s a fickle thing, General Hyena.
- Youth has its benefits, General Cicada. I trust in my ability to remember.
Marcus took a puff from his cigar and exhaled deeply to the side. Talking with Hyena sure could take a toll on a man.
- Alright. Thank you. I will take good care of it. - Marcus assured, letting his junior push the file back his way.
- Now, onto the main topic–
Their battle of intellects came to a screeching halt, as the main ballroom doors swung open. Looking at the time, both men had certain predictions regarding whom the next guest would be. Surprisingly, both of them were in the wrong, but only the older one managed to hide his bewilderment concerning the newly arrived.
Within the confines of the ballroom appeared a large man, draped in an ornate, dark blue uniform. The hat on his head, alongside the very peculiar linings, betrayed the branch to which he belonged - the navy.
Complementing the shade of his outfit was his complexion. It was dark, or rather, pitch-black. From far away, it looked as if his whole being absorbed light, preventing anyone from discerning finer details about his visage, except the few that blatantly stood out.
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Multiple scars lined his face.
That man…
- Adjutant Blaz. - Hyena kept staring daggers into the new arrival.
- Sir. - his secretary responded and took in another mouthful of smoke he despised.
- The invitation was successfully received by Heavenly General Morena, exactly 47 hours ago, am I wrong?
- You are correct, sir.
- Then why is his second in command currently standing on the ballroom floor? - his hand curled up into a fist.
- I bet he’ll spill the beans once he notices us, sir. - Veronica once more broke the code of conduct in her usual, casual manner.
“God dammit, Magnus” - thought General Cicada, slowly raising his hand to massage the bridge of his nose.
Not a minute later, which felt like an eternity, a strongly built stand-in for the missing Heavenly General noticed the table at which the two other men who carried the same title resided. He took off his hat, placed it under his armpit, and then proceeded in due haste towards them. With an unoccupied arm and a powerful slam of his heels, he saluted.
- Vice Admiral Silvers Winslow, reporting in, sirs! - he announced with a low voice smooth as butter. - I am a representative within the official capacity of Heavenly General Magnus “Morena” Verga, sirs!
- At-
Before General Johansson could even utter a word, Ajax took charge, with a tone much calmer than before, but his anger still managed to seep through the cracks.
- On what ground did Heavenly General Magnus Verga decide to alter the pre-existing plan of this meeting, soldier? - while he spoke, Ajax’s mind was trying to enumerate all the different aspects of the charity ball the absence of the third General would impact.
- I will be quoting the Heavenly General from this point on, sirs! - with that, Winslow took a deep breath. - “I have more important things to do than attend a costume-party organized by some chicken-shit bureaucrats. Me and 'Leviathan' will proceed towards the international waters between Empire and Kintsugi Union to ensure that they do not try anything funny in the chaos of it all. Gotta avoid any international incidents while you guys are drinking champagne and spewing pre-rehearsed pleasantries. Silvers will go as my representative, he should suffice.”
Silence befell their table. Only the sounds of waiters and waitresses moving around tables and many different dishes in preparations for the upcoming event masked the sheer tension surrounding the place where Heavenly Generals were meant to converge.
- At ease. - Cicada finished his previously interrupted sentence with a heavy sigh. - That's the most unfortunate turn of events…
- Unfortunate? - Hyena turned towards the old-timer, his pupils as small as pin-heads. - You call this unfortunate? That’s a fucking disaster, you senile old man! - Ajax decided to forgo any possible decorum at this point.
Instead, putting his two fingers towards his left ear.
- Code 245123. - he spoke to someone on the other end of the concealed earpiece while getting off his chair. - Connect me to the leader of the Japanese representatives’ escort and get me a god-damn VTOL on the coordinates-
He signed with his free hand towards Veronica to take his place, while he stormed out of the ballroom, already yelling at someone. As his words became more and more distant, Marcus remained in his seat, now two adjutants keeping him company.
He raised a brow, looking at Silvers, and swept his open palm across the table.
- Take a seat, lad, you are officially representing Heavenly General Morena, aren’t you? - he took a deep toke from the cigar. - Something to drink for you?
- Maybe a stogie? - Veronica added, crossing both legs over the tabletop and leaning back. - Long time no see, by the way…
The ebony man glanced at the woman with a look that didn’t betray much of anything, aside from an unwavering calmness that only a sailor could possess.
- Quite. For me, that is. - he gave her a thoughtful nod of recognition. - What’s a few years when you’ve got 19 thousand of them to spare?
- Good memory you’ve got there. - she snapped her fingers and pointed at him. - Didn’t think you’d remember such a miniscule detail about me.
- It was a very memorable day. - he sighed.
- For you and me both. - she nodded in agreement.
- And I see you’ve come to like the name?
- I love it.
- I’m glad to hear that.
And with that the awkward small talk died out as quickly as it began. There was obviously some personal history between the two, but somehow the atmosphere felt unbearably lukewarm, of all things. That was, until Veronica spoke up again.
- You’re darker than I remember. - she said with a deadpan expression.
Obviously, if anybody was to drop a bomb like that out of nowhere at an official governmental gathering in front of one of the most important people in the country, it would be Veronica.
Silvers raised an eyebrow, apparently not quite ready to answer, instead looking to General Cicada for any kind of reaction, but the old man seemed to have openly opted not to hear the comment, and looked elsewhere, taking a sip of his beverage. As he put the glass down, he looked the man in the eye and gave him a barely noticeable down-nod.
At that moment Silvers was absolved of any responsibility for the words he’d choose to answer with. Cicada would simply pretend he didn’t hear, but the sailor apparently was full of surprises.
- Maybe it’s the black circles under my eyes. - he deflected the comment with a witty retort and a warm smile. - The nights at the sea have been pretty turbulent as of late. You, though. You look different, too. - he scanned her up and down and gave a jab of his own. - Did you put on some weight?
- I did, actually! - she perked up, unexpectedly excited. - Thank you for noticing. Working for lil’ Ajax is sooooo boring, I’ve actually been working on my regenerator abilities to kill time, and let me tell you, there’s a lot of time to kill. - she took her legs off the table and leaned forwards in her seat. - I know Dokie said that I was a failure and whatnot, since I couldn’t over-regenerate, but I just had to keep trying, you know?
- To spite him. - the formal and all too clean smile of the man quickly twisted into a mischievous grin without him even noticing as he too leaned in a little closer.
- Yeah, that! And now with a lot of training I can go 5 grams either below or above my baseline. Not counting hair. That’s just dead tissue. - she flicked her fringe up with one hand, revealing both of her black eyes.
- See, lass? I knew you were more than met the eye. I told you.
And just like that the weird tension was gone, Veronica’s tone-deafness played off as mere banter.
- So you know each other, I assume? - Marcus made his presence known once again, feeling it was a good moment to inject himself into the conversation.
- Oh, you’re saying it like you didn’t already know. - the female regenerator rolled her eyes. - Being the big boss of all the Empire’s intel must be nice.
- It would be bad manners to admit it outright. - the Heavenly General cracked a toothy grin only a select group of old people could muster, and sent out a black cloud to fetch him something. Not five seconds later it returned with a bottle of gin. - If I am to believe the latest report, this is your poison of choice. Is that correct?
- That it is, sir General. - Silvers confirmed, adjusting his manner of speaking to maintain the last bit of decorum between him and his superior.
- You can speak casually. You are not so far beneath me in the chain of command as to be all prim and proper during what essentially amounts to an overly expensive party on the taxpayers’ dime. With Hyena gone, nobody will bat an eye. - he made his point clear, swirling the last sip of liquor in his glass with one hand.
- …Aye. - the sailor nodded his head with a bit of apprehension.
- So, with that out of the way, pray tell me. What do you think of this whole thing. - he gestured all around, not moving his gaze from the man. - The deal, the banquet and where everything falls into place.
- I’m just a second in command. I don’t think my opinion really matters. Besides, even if I have one, it has probably reached you by now… sir. - he shrugged, but couldn’t force himself to drop the decorum all the way.
- I deal with information networks and espionage, boy. I’m not a mind reader. None of my people are. - he prompted him to spill the beans. - And you are currently “in command”, as it was, so don’t hold back.
Silvers winced a bit hearing the General refer to him as “boy”. The age gap was wide and obvious, probably making most people in Marcus’ eyes mere children, but even then, the sailor was no “boy”. Still, he answered.
- A show of force to the world. Always is whenever General Morena is involved. But that fell through, since the Leviathan is not here. - he rubbed his thick, gray beard for a second and continued. - Bread and circuses, maybe? I think I’ve seen recording crews gathered outside, so it wouldn’t surprise me if people were to spew sophistries on live television. Even the Emperor’s favorite son will attend. That’s always a surefire way to get the public’s attention. All that to create an image of peace and prosperity. A farce, in short. A quick distraction from the real problems.
- And here I thought I was being smart when I came up with it. - Marcus chuckled with a bit of sarcasm. - Yes, you are correct. It’s a bit of a show for everyone to see. You’ve probably already noticed, as have everyone else with the least bit of brain in this damn country, that things are a little volatile at the moment. Crime’s on the rise. Terrorist cells keep popping up. Our relations with the Anglos are turning sour pretty quickly. The Ouroboros splitting off… It’s a whole mess…
- That’s a lot of truths all at once from a public figure’s mouth. - Veronica mocked with a smile.
- If only I could be this truthful every day… - Cicada sighed.
With that, their table fell silent again. Marcus drank, Veronica smoked, and Silvers stared at the table silently, processing all the information given to him. Even though most of his days he spent on the ship alongside his superior, the sailor always kept up-to-date with what happened on dry land.
The Empire, despite its world-gripping superiority, wasn’t doing too well. Every citizen willing to look through the gaps in the “Big Brother’s” ever-tightening grasp of half-truths and propaganda was able to see the signs. It wasn’t an outright downwards spiral of anarchy and chaos, no. It was more subtle, so only the few who paid attention could see the cracks that lined the mighty colossus’ surface.
A miniscule drop in GDP here, tightening the belt on military research by a notch there, one or two mechanized squads being pulled from conquered territories each year. Nothing that would really prompt anybody to look deeper into things. But if one were to squint hard enough and find a document or two without the red tape…
Even if truth was meticulously controlled and fed in just the right servings to the masses, a crumb or two would always fall off the tabletop, down where the hungry rats writhed and squirmed. The fact that one of the two men who were fabricating and controlling those half-truths was so candid about it with Silvers only made it that much more concerning.
If the liars on which you rely start feeling queasy, then how long can the charade last?
Silvers contemplated it all deep inside, not really trusting his companions to react positively to what he was thinking. But alas, the looks the both of them gave him showed that maybe the sanctity of his mind wasn’t as impregnable as he thought.
- Oh! Something is cooking in that noggin of yours, ain’t that right? - lady Blaz smiled with clenched teeth, inadvertently biting into the cigar she smoked. - Seems like our fishie caught the bait, old man.
- Is that so? - General Cicada raised his eyebrow. - That’s quite a surprise, I thought that Magnus would ban all of you from reading newspapers and data-slates, since they are peddled by these “blasted landlubbers”. - he moved the glass aside. - Want to share your thoughts, boy?
- I don’t think I want to, sir. - Murena’s stand-in shot them down swiftly.
- Afraid of committing a thought crime? - the old man smirked.
- No, sir.
- Then what is there to be afraid of? We still have time before the Crown Prince’s entourage arrives and thanks to Ajax being a nervous little shit, there are no ears to spy on your words, and no mouths to tell you how to think.
- With all due respect, sir, you’re saying that as the person overseeing all the information flow across the Empire. - Silvers slightly frowned, not knowing if the man before him lacked self-awareness or was leading him along by the nose. - There are things even a scurvied dog can’t get away with saying.
- There’s that sailor’s mouth! Maybe if I keep on pressing the right buttons, you’ll finally start talking to me like a normal person? - Marcus chuckled, with Veronica seconding his reaction.
But despite it all, Silvers remained stern, falling silent after the General’s words. The latter frowned softly.
- I know you said he would be a tough nut to crack, but are you sure he isn’t simply anti-social? - Heavenly General gave Hyena's adjutant a side eye.
- He certainly is much more high-strung than I remember. - she responded, while removing a burnt-out cigar from her mouth. - You can take the man out of the sea, but you can’t take the sea out of a man.
- I am unsure if I understand the allegory. - as the general responded, his black mist flew back to the table, carrying something
- Despite that, the look in his eyes and the little conversation we had shows me he’s the good ol’ Silvers, that’s for sure.
- For your own good, I hope you’re right. Thankfully, there is one more trick for me to try to open this can-of-tuna.
As the black swarm dispersed, it revealed an intricate wine glass, from the same set as the General’s. Without a word, the older gentleman poured wine into it. There was nothing special about it, until the cloud flew into the red concoction and started stirring it. Right before Silvers’ eyes, the mysterious particles mixed seamlessly with the wine’s crimson hue, becoming indistinguishable from each other. That was the moment when Marcus pushed the glass towards the sailor.
- I’m quite a sly old man, you see.
- What? - for the first time, the burly soldier let go of the honorifics when addressing the General.
- Drink it. - Cicada responded nonchalantly.
- I will have to–
- That is an order.
One sentence, four words - that was all that it took to disperse any atmosphere of pleasantries at the table. The wrinkled face of the old man before Silvers wasn’t smiling anymore, its expression was lax and uncaring. Quite adequate for the man who wielded so much power behind the title of Heavenly General.
The sailor swallowed hard, just now feeling the pressure bearing down on him in full force.
- Don’t worry, it’s a good vintage. - Veronica smirked, being stoked about the whole situation.
“Guess she didn’t change that much.” - the sailor thought.
He had no more tricks to pull, as much as his instinct was telling him to resist. Spilling the wine, making a ruckus, declining again, all those options would do more harm than good, as they all would come back to bite General Morena in the ass. Admiral Winslow just had to go along with whatever that duo had in plans for him. He doubted it was poison, but you could never tell with someone as sly as the legendary Marcus “Cicada” Johansson.
So he grabbed the glass, raised it up, made a small nudge towards the previously mentioned man and gulped it all down.
- You could have at least savored it. - Heavenly General grumbled. - It was quite fucking expensive.
- I do not like wine very much, sir. - he responded, putting the glass back down and pushing it towards the senior.
- More of a rum guy? - Veronica chimed in.
- That’s such a stereotype. - Silver smiled bitterly, just as the waiter came over, putting two glasses at the table.
Like a sudden interlude to this drama in three acts, the young waiter from before approached their table with urgent steps and bewilderment growing on his face.
- Do forgive me for asking, lady and gentlemen, but where is Heavenly General Daunt? - on his perfectly black tray were the orders for the aforementioned man and his secretary.
- Heavenly General Hyena had to suddenly attend an urgent business, I’ll take his order. - Veronica said with a smile. - Give me both glasses.
With that the waiter placed both the tonic water and whisky in front of the lady who in response winked at him as he was leaving.
- Can you not chase tail during matters of state importance? - Marcus tried lecturing her.
- Not my fault you get no action, old-timer, sir. - her response was as sharp as always, as if nothing really happened at their table a few moments ago.
- Sorry to interrupt your conversation, sir. - Silvers chimed in. - Now that I did as you demanded, may I know what you spi– had put in the wine?
The Heavenly General looked him in the eye and smiled, putting a glass of wine to his own pale lips.
- A spoonful of nanobots. - the old man suddenly resounded within Winslow’s skull, startling him slightly. - So that we might have a heart-to-heart about the future of this country.
Marcus calmly kept on drinking.
- Young lady Blaz vouched for you. Apparently she has been keeping a close eye on your accomplishments. I wondered what piqued her interest in you initially, but your personal history, whatever it was, probably played a part. I trust her judgment, so welcome to the “Wine Cellar”, our little secret club.
- Wh–
Silvers tried to speak out loud, but Cicada shut him up with one stern glance.
- Speak using your mind. We don’t want to attract too much attention. Have another drink while you’re at it. It’s bound to sell our little act.
- What is this? How? - Silvers answered with his thoughts, fighting against himself to keep his mouth shut, staring at the old man like an idiot.
- No need to stare. - the old man said with his voice, a warm smile plastered on his face. - I know that the aftertaste is out of this world, but believe me, there’s still better things yet to come.
- Can you hear all my thoughts? - the sailor asked with disbelief.
- I could if I so willed, but I believe there won’t be a need for that. For now, I can only hear you if you put your intent into it.
- Can she? - he glanced towards Blaz, who simply smiled and wiggled the tips of her fingers back at him.
- Again, only if you want it. The nanobots are smart little things. I’ve been reprogramming and improving them for a few decades now.
- What is the meaning of this? Why the secrecy? Are you rebels? - Silvers’ thoughts went into overdrive, flooding the psychic comms for a second.
- Easy there, Admiral. Don’t let the panic cloud your thoughts. The effect can be… contagious. - the General calmed him down, sliding another glass his way. - And to answer your question, no, we are not rebels. - a chuckle reverberated in Winslow’s head. - Far from it.
- So what am I being pulled into? Tell me! - the man demanded, clutching his fist in frustration.
- Saving this godforsaken country. - Cicada’s tone got much darker for a moment.
- Wh– How? This is suspicious, dammit. Does the Emperor know of this?
- Care for an entrée? I’ll take some shrimps, but I bet you’re sick of seafood, so I’ll let you think. - Cicada juggled the two conversations seamlessly, obviously used to this. Nothing showed on his face. - Yeah, I much prefer this unfiltered Silvers. And no, the Emperor does not know. He needs not know, and probably doesn’t want to know. As long as the country’s running, he’s content with just sitting back. - Marcus’ sigh filled the thoughtscape. - Perhaps that’s part of the problem…
- What if I don’t want to be a part of this? - Silvers kept pushing back, his stubbornness befitting a sailor.
- Well, it would be a real shame, but I can’t force you to do anything. - Marcus stretched his shoulders and looked the Admiral in the eyes. - I’d like to recommend the canapés. They are excellent with wine…
- What if I report this to the Emperor anyway? - he grasped at straws at this point, his threat seen as mere struggle by the old man.
- I told you already. It won’t do you any good, and that’s precisely why I’d like you to be a part of our little group. Not only would it be your word against mine, so you’d stand no chance there, the Emperor would much rather keep to his own devices, so even if you had any ground to stand on, he’d take my side out of pure convenience. It’s a losing game, really, and a good showcase of why what we are doing is necessary. You have probably noticed, much like anyone with a pair of eyes and at least three brain cells, the Emperor has… withdrawn himself from politics and matters of state in these past few years. - the old man took another drawn out sip, his eyes closed in thought. - We are in decline, Admiral, and the Wine Cellar is the only thing keeping this country running. But we can’t keep working on the fringes forever. We need decisive action, and soon, if we want to salvage anything.
- … Why me? - Silvers asked after a brief pause, barely believing what he was hearing. Or perhaps refusing to believe. - Why not General Morena?
- Magnus is… a force of nature, let’s just say. A raging storm, and the howl in the wind. There’s no way to really steer him, as you’ve already proven by appearing in his place. You can only work around this man, and that unpredictability is something we cannot risk bringing into the Cellar. You, however… - Marcus put down an empty glass and smiled, waving over an attendant to order the entrées. - You can harness that storm
- What? - he asked, genuinely befuddled.
- You heard me. I’ve read the reports and from what I’ve gathered, you are the only thing keeping General Morena in reins. He only ever listens to you, and actively seeks your counsel whenever he’s uncertain of what to do next. That’s a lot, considering who we’re talking about.
- I’m a mere advisor.
- And that’s good enough. Moreover, that’s exactly what we need. A man with common sense somewhere high up the ladder. Miss Blaz isn’t a General, either, but she can influence things just enough to matter. Sometimes more than I’d ever expect possible.
- What if I refuse anyway? You can’t just throw all this information my way and expect me to accept. - the expression on the seaman’s face looked grim, but he was starting to compose himself. - I’ll take the canapés, sure
- Then you’ll be my eyes and ears anyway. Don’t worry, I won’t infringe on your privacy. The only things that matter to me are of the stately nature. - there was no emotion on the old man’s face, but Silvers could tell that there was a note of melancholy in his mental voice. - Care for another glass?
Silvers took a deep breath. Today was just a whole rollercoaster of emotions. First he got sent to represent his boss in some boring social event, then he met somebody he thought he’d never meet again, and now he was being dragged into a whole lot of trouble. He sighed heavily, considering his options, his hand moving towards his neck without much thought. When his fingertips touched a small thread, he clutched it, then pulled it off his neck. It was a long fiber loop, from which hung a metal ring. It was half gold, half silver, giving an impression that it was two rings melted together. He took it off the line and turned it over in his hand a few times.
- Will what you are doing make this country better? For the common folk, I mean. - the sailor asked without looking away from the ring.
- There’s nothing I’d like more than that. - Marcus answered with resolve.
Then I'll be the wind in your sails. - Silvers matched that resolve, putting the ring on the finger of his left hand.