Chapter 1

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"Lord Cassard, have you ever seen such an enthusiastic group of hostages?" Lady Nadine said with feigned surprise in her voice. "Great shadows. It seems they're about to elbow each other."

"I think there's a scientific term for it..." continued Lady Pell, tapping her long polished nail on her chin thoughtfully... "Sacrifice syndrome... or is it? ... Hostage syndrome."

...Stockholm syndrome... He was about to correct her, but he stopped himself in time with a neutral chuckle. His lordship Lord Alessandro Cassard did not need to know such words:

And I don't think there's any Stockholm, so the name must be different. He thought and then was belatedly surprised. The "Arrival" ceremony had not started for some reason, and they had been bored at the top of the artificial hill for almost an hour, all alone. And this phrase was the first attempt at communication by the blood princess of the Great House Peltar.

Alex looked up curiously at Lady Nadine. Her perfect, aristocratic features were completely impassive, but in the green eyes of this red-haired beauty, there was a whimsical mix of boredom and judgment with a slight tinge of contempt.

More boredom, perhaps. He decided.

Temporarily deprived of her usual surroundings of numerous suitors and occasional girlfriends, Lady Nadine seemed desperately bored.

What's lonely at the top... Only you and your enemies.... Or rather an enemy... just me, that's all conversation partners. He smirked in his mind and put aside the infoblock with another batch of economic reports, and smiled at her for real:

"I think you should be more lenient with them," Alex said, trying to keep the conversation going.

The object of their discussion was a group of similarly young but far less noble and influential nobles. They, by their status, were situated on the lower tier of the hill and now having abandoned their seats, were gathered by the huge windows of the pavilion that covered the garden, trying to get a glimpse of the Imperial Palace.

A huge artificial hill, at least fifty meters high, which adjoined the outer walls of the imperial castle, was composed of eight lush terraces connected by a long winding path along which there now stood tables and armchairs for the many noblemen who came to the castle. They were arranged in strict accordance with the title, antiquity, nobility, and the position a nobleman held in his house. From knights to earls and barons, from forgotten grandnephews to heirs and heads of clans, higher and higher. The nobility got nobler, richer, more influential, and so on up to the top.

And at the top were they, with a lineage lost somewhere in the darkness of millennia past, the highest of all present. Lady Nadine Pell, the younger sister of the Ruling Lord of House Peltar and second in line of succession, with a personal estate the size of a continent. And he, Lord Allesandro Cassard, head and only representative of the Cassard family, whose ancestral domain included a planet with a population of fourteen billion.

Enemies... No, that's kind of pompous, more like adversaries. Alex mentally corrected himself.

Their feud was aristocratic and refined to the extreme; there was nothing personal about it at all. Only very high politics and old family scores they had both inherited.

Hurried footsteps were heard from outside, and one of the stewards almost ran out into their clearing, trying to catch his breath as he went:

"Your Ladyship Princess Pell. Your Serene Highness, Prince Cassard," he said, bowing in a bow that contrasted with a face grey with horror.

I wonder what could possibly have gone wrong. Alex thought absently, trying to imagine what sort of "messes" might be possible at ceremonial events. Three maidens are drunk out of their minds and they're being hastily replaced? Does someone have a broken heel or a torn hem?

That was the third assurance that: "it's about to start" in the last forty minutes.

And it's not starting.

After receiving gracious nods from their "Lordships", the steward immediately disappeared, sounding at once to be on the run. He soon reappeared within sight on the next level of the hill and, bowing courteously to the nobles below, ran on down a winding path lavishly decorated with green vegetation.

This is the fourth time. Shitty job.

"Imperial titles..." snorted Lady Nadine, glancing up at the Imperial Steward as he moved swiftly away. "When I am suddenly transformed from 'Lady Pell' to 'Her Serene Highness Sovereign Princess Pell' upon my arrival in the Capital, I am sickened by the air of that loquacious pathos."

For an heiress to one of the great aristocratic Houses, Nadine Pell had an unusually democratic, even rebellious, attitude which she demonstrated at every opportunity, particularly when it came to imperial power.

Must be all about education. Alex thought as far as he knew, instead of the typical home education of someone of her standing, Nadine had graduated from the University of Tallana, which, as the recent rebellion had shown, was quite a hotbed of freethinking. I wonder what her parents had in mind when they sent her there? Or did she insist?

"I wasn't used to it at first either." He agreed aloud. After all, it wasn't even a month before I was in the body of an aristocrat. He added mentally.

"But, man gets used to everything." Alex continued aloud. "Isn't that so, your most Serene Ladyship, Nobleborn and Most Serene Princess of the Blood of Pell? If I have omitted something of your full title of honor, please excuse my memory as you know it is not what it used to be after the poisoning."

"Is it only memory?" asked Lady Nadine, and defiantly, with a weary sigh, she covered her face with her palm. It would seem that she was indeed dizzy.

This round is clearly for her. Mentally, Alex admitted.

The verbal banter had been part and parcel of their interactions with Lady Nadine from the very first time they met. And it seemed to suit them both completely. At least it diluted the boring ceremonies.

"By the way, I bet in your first Onstum, you too, were suffering from curiosity." He continued the conversation, which was interrupted by the arrival of the stewards.

"Me?" Lady Pell raised an eyebrow. "No, I was rather longing to get out of here. And Lord Cassard, it's your first time here, too..." she added, seeing the irony of doubt in her companion's eyes.

"Lazy..." Alex admitted with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a long walk. And the stewards had been assuring me that the ceremony was about to start"

"In any case, it's a waste of time." Nadine stated categorically, "The palace must be seen from the air. Well, unless the Almighty Emperor decides to send you to the frontier as an observer of our tyranny, you will have another opportunity to see the capital and the palace. Though I have to say that for the fourth time, it's all boring."

"Well, maybe this time they'll send you somewhere as an imperial observer for a change?"

"Me?" She arched a very eloquent eyebrow again, emphasizing the absurdity of the suggestion. "I'm doomed to get some colorful court position. Dictators prefer to keep those who resist them close so they can strangle them at any moment."

Alex chose not to comment on the politically straightforward phrase, limiting himself to a neutral smile. After all, he had come to the capital to sit out the politically turbulent times, not to get involved in a political scandal. But Lady Nadine appeared to understand everything in her eyes:

"I see you think differently?"

Oh, the hell with you... take it, beauty.

"As you know, I have lost my memory." Just in case, he reminded me again. "And perhaps I lack completeness of information or experience. But from my point of view, "dictatorship" and tyranny do not look like that at all."

"Is that so?" Nadine grinned with interest and leaned towards him with a hand under her chin. "Maybe you could give us some arguments then?" she suggested, smiling sweetly."

"Why not... Look at our conversation from the outside. Do you understand that it would have been impossible in a real tyranny and dictatorship? You spoke ill-favorably about the Empire, the Emperor, and not somewhere in your castle, alone with your confidants, in utterly protected and shielded chambers, with the hum of the suppressors ringing in your ears. No, we're in a garden adjoining the imperial palace, surrounded by servants and, worse, droids, with recording devices hidden somewhere, and to top it all, you're talking to me. A representative of, shall we say, not the friendliest of houses, and let's be honest, politically, we're adversaries. You can't be sure I won't report this conversation, though it might not be very noble of me..."

"Even if I did? If you were to report our conversation, or even if there were recording devices hidden somewhere in the room, even though it's just not appropriate. But I was just making a point. I did not insult His Majesty. I did not call for mutiny... I have nothing to accuse him of. No court would have found it a crime."

"What court...?" Alex's eyes widened in surprise, "No..." he shook his head. "There wouldn't be any court. We're talking about tyranny, aren't we? A dictator? A real tyrant doesn't need to bother with a trial. He does what he wants. Dissenters are removed, and those who resist are destroyed. No objections, no other points of view. The dictator's word is the law. The inconspicuous, silent men would just take you away, that's all. You'd disappear quietly into some dungeons."

"Would I just be taken away?" Nadine smiled indulgently. "In front of everyone?"

"It doesn't have to be in plain sight." He shrugged. "Maybe they wouldn't want to spoil people's holiday and try to do it discreetly when no one was looking. At night or early in the morning. In a cargo aerocar labeled Bread. In a real dictatorship, that would be the case. But as you can see, no one is taking you away, you are not afraid of anything, so I conclude that this is not a dictatorship."

"You'd think, Lord Cassard," snorted Nadine, "that you had some perfect benchmark for dictatorship in a neutral gas capsule, and you have something to compare it to."

I really do have something to compare it to. thought Alex, Earth's history had no shortage of dictatorships of all kinds. But he shrugged his shoulders in response. I'm getting carried away enough as it is, I'd better not raise any unnecessary questions.

During the time they had been talking, the ceremonial conflicts seemed to have been resolved. The stewards scurried about seating everyone back to their seats, and soon everything was ceremonial. On the lowest tier of the garden came the ushers: the maidens in gleaming court dresses and the imperial guards in full sea-wave uniforms. They came in a majestic, sparkling wave that flooded the garden, and as they swept up the hill, they slowly began to climb up the paths to find their charges. They were to accompany the nobles who had arrived on the onstum during their stay in the imperial palace.

And make sure no one screws up during the ceremonies, of course.

Judging by the leisurely speed of the ascent, they had to wait another twenty minutes for their escorts. And then another flight to the central part of the palace and more ceremonies there. Unhappily Alex thought, tracing the upcoming route with his eyes. At that moment a group of six sturdily built young men in black uniform of imperial security, with a concentrated look, appeared from somewhere on the side from behind the lush bushes which ran along the edge of the garden and disguised the passages intended for the servants, came into his sight. Quickly they crossed a short distance and found themselves one level below, just below Alex and Nadine, where three elderly representatives of the House of Melato were talking quietly. The conversation was interrupted when the SS men surrounded the surprised-looking Melatians.

"Lord Tosso, Baron Lovilli." A lean but visibly wiry man in his forties, with sharp features and bright gray eyes, turned to those seated, bowing his head slightly. He seemed to be in charge, though there were no insignia on their black uniforms. "Please come with us."

"What's the matter," one of the Melatians asked imposingly before he was unceremoniously yanked out of his chair and held up by his arms.

"You're under arrest." With an ironic smile, the "lean man" reported as they were dragged past him.

"How dare you..." One of the arrestees, who must have recovered from the shock, tried to wrest his hands from the clutches of the burly Security guards, but he was poked in the side with something. There was a quiet, dry hiss and a faint glint of blue sparkle. Melatetz immediately collapsed, hanging on the arms of the guards.

"If you have any questions, you may put them to my superiors. You'll soon have the opportunity to do so." The gaunt man said in a neutral tone to the only remaining nobleman, showing an open left palm.

There must have been some kind of badge or identification clutched in his hand because the Melathean, who seemed to be about to burst into an angry tirade, suddenly went pale and swallowed the words that were about to come out.

Satisfied with the effect produced, SS-man, with an attentive glance, looked over the clearing, and at that moment he noticed Alex and Nadine, who were watching the show from above, spellbound. He gave them a piercing look, bowed his head in greeting, and with a two-finger salute turned on his heels and hurried after the others.

It took less than a minute, and because of the location of the terraces, the scene was only visible from above and went unnoticed by the vast majority of the nobility, already engrossed in the ceremony that had begun.

"Did you mean something like that, Lord Cassard?" Lady Nadine was pale and frightened, but there was so much anger in her voice that Lord Cassard gave her a surprised look. "I must admit that I was really wrong. Your idea of dictatorship is much more accurate than mine."

"But they didn't take you away..." He muttered quietly, just to reserve the last word.

"О... " She twinkled her eyes and quoted his own words. "Maybe they don't want to spoil people's holiday and try to do it inconspicuously when no one's looking. At night, for example, or early in the morning.

"I hope not." With a sigh, Alex replied, trying to add a conciliatory tone to the situation that was no longer conducive to pique. "I wouldn't want to lose such a pleasant companion."

The emperor's palace was beginning to seem a much less safe place than he had been led to believe. Just removed, very, very powerful people, though they sat lower down, it was nothing more than a tribute to tradition. Unlike Alex and Nadina, they held real power in their House.

Thoughts, excited by what I saw, ran chaotically through my head and generated a scattering of versions of what had happened:

Could the Emperor have become aware of any connection between these Melatians and the uprising or attempts on the reigning lord's life? There's still an investigation going on, something became known, and they were informed by instant communication and on arrival right under the arms. Or maybe they were summoned to the onstum on purpose to arrest them? In isolation from the support of their home, including the force. After all, assuming that they dared to contact terrorists and organize a mutiny, who knows what else they might dare to do? In addition, the emperor may not be interested in inflaming the fact of the participation of the high nobility in all this. Then this strange arrest makes perfect sense. It became known about their participation, they did not want to cause a scandal, and they were summoned to the onstum, where they were quietly arrested. Mutiny and an attempt on the lord of the empire, each one separately enough for an arrest, but together... Alex shivered, he felt uncomfortable, and somewhere in the depths of his chest, an icy worm of fear lurked. Because, in a certain sense, he, too, had been part of the rebellion and had ordered the murder of the Lord of the Empire. No, he had an excuse, of course, that he had to take part in the mutiny, otherwise, he would simply be shot, and the assassination attempt he had organized in pure self-defense- on those who wanted to kill him... but...

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Illegal actions, as the saying goes: "Sure as eggs are eggs".

There was another possibility, which I didn't want to think about at all. This arrest was nothing more than an attempt to remove dangerous witnesses, a failed operation of the Imperial Security Service, and that there really was an operation, and not the actions of several functionaries bribed by Melatians, as they now try to present it.

And then I might as well be on the shortlist, the biggest witnesses. Alex concluded with a fallen heart. The only hope is that they're just not aware of my awareness.

While he silently tried to digest what he had seen, a wave of guardsmen and maidens, thinning on the way to a thin stream, managed to get almost to the top. At the level where the prisoners had previously been seated, a maid of honor separated from the "brook" and approached the only remaining representative of the House of Melato, who was still in shock.

Judging by the fact that there was only one maid of honor, the organizers knew about the arrest in advance, otherwise, they would have sent three people. But, unfortunately, that didn't tell him much.

Further up, the only couple that was obviously supposed to "meet" Alex and Nadine moved on. They turned, followed the curve of the path, and temporarily disappeared from view. Just a minute later, they reappeared, already in the upper clearing:

A stately, dark-haired guard was leading a tall girl with piercing blue eyes, also dressed in a guardsman's uniform. Her pitch-black hair was cut short into something resembling a braid. She looked about twenty-something, but Alex forbade trying to define her age by her appearance long ago. She might as well have been thirty or sixty. The girl walked slowly and with a visible effort, for over her uniform was a long cloak or plume decorated with a complex pale purple and floral pattern, which stretched behind her another three meters, not less, inevitably clinging to everything that came in her way. On her well-shaped face, with its neat mouth and slightly upturned nose, there was a tense mask of social politeness, but in her eyes, there was an unladylike sternness.

The guardsman, on the other hand, was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he could have been mistaken for a synthesized hologram of the "dream man". He was tall and perfectly built. His dark hair contrasted with his bright green eyes. A handsome young face with a strong chin and straight nose managed to be both masculine and refined. Gold embroidery glittered on the immaculate navy blue uniform, the gloves could be used to set the balance of white in the most capricious technique, the arrow on the dark blue pants was sharp as a razor blade, and the soft low boots were polished to the extent that they resembled two black mirrors.

She's being greeted like that, and she's cussing at the empire nonstop. Alex was indignant in his mind as he looked at the "greeters". The obvious unfairness of what was happening was obvious. Honestly, I should have gotten some mind-bogglingly beautiful maid of honor, and Nadine something less presentable and as boring as possible.

The greeters came closer and bowed their heads in greeting.

"Imperial Guard Stack Cadet Arlet Santo." The guardsman introduced himself by raising his head and dashingly clicking his heels. He let go of his companion's palm and extended his hand in a snow-white glove to Nadine. "Glad and proud to accompany your ladyship to the onstum!"

Lady Pell, with an unusually warm smile for her, accepted his hand and rose from her seat.

As she approached closer, Nadina quickly exchanged courteous nods with the girl in the Guard uniform. They were clearly acquainted and clearly not friends.

"Imperial Guard Second Wing Chief Captain, Artala Niazur." The girl introduced herself, stretching out stately and clicking her heels together, though much less dashingly. "I'm pleased to welcome your lordship to Weylar Talis.

A whole captain, Alex whistled mentally, inwardly softening toward those who had organized the meeting. Even his modest knowledge of the local military hierarchy was enough to realize that the captain was immeasurably more than a stack cadet. How old is she really, then?

She came even closer, holding out her hand to Alex, and it was clear that her incredible cloak was held around her neck by a massive, intricately decorated gold chain.

This is a mantle of the Order, not a cloak. From what he read, Alex remembered that the appearance of the greeters at "solemn" events was strictly regulated, and all elements of their dress were essentially uniforms, where every detail meant something. That was why the mantle was a sign that Artala was also a cavalier of some order. That meant that the person they were greeting was not an ordinary one at all.

However, ordinary greeters are not allowed to Lord Cassard by status. Unfortunately, that was where his knowledge, which at best could be considered sketchy, came to an end. He couldn't even tell which order the chief captain belonged to. All he knew was that members of the most influential Order of the Arm wore scarlet and white robes. That was all. Which Order wore pale purple and silver, he didn't know. I'll be sure to check after the ceremonies, though, because I'm curious as to who exactly I've been assigned to accompany me.

Alex also stood up and gave his hand to Artala, to which she responded with a faint nod and a secular smile. That was the end of the "welcoming ceremony". The first pair of Lady Nadina and the brilliant Guardian turned around and began their solemn descent. Alex was about to follow but was stopped by Artala, who gripped his palm tightly. To his mute question, she only shook her head negatively.

"I thought..." Alex whispered a little surprised as Nadine and the guardsman disappeared around the first corner of the path, "We should go down to the lower tier with the others now. The ceremony should start soon."

"Nothing important." Artala brushed it off with an inexplicable irritation, "We'll join them before the grand opening."

The gala was to take place in the central part of the emperor's palace, And that's in another hour by the most optimistic estimate. Alex felt a little uncomfortable, and he furtively looked around. But there were no burly men about to arrest him.

So far.

"And what are we going to do the rest of the time?" He asked aloud.

"This time..." said the Chief Captain, glancing unhappily at Alex, "we'll spend it doing me one small favor. Namely, that you change your clothes and make yourself look - worthy of a sovereign prince going to meet the Emperor!"

"I guess that's okay." Sincerely declared Alex, ostentatiously glancing over his "hunting" suit of light suede. And a lot better than a stone-embroidered nightie. "And then," he continued aloud, "I specifically inquired about this issue. There are no requirements in the area of appearance of arriving, the ceremonial protocol does not put forward ..."

Captain Niazur gave Alex the look of a man plagued with nonsense and raised her index finger, urging Alex to be quiet:

"Prince Cassard, I am aware of your rebellious nature." She pronounced in a tired tone. "And at other times, I might even have supported your escapade. But I have not been to court for two years, this will be my first, since my return, outing, and I want us to be dazzling." The "we" was emphasized. "So please do me a favor and give in to this little feminine whim. And besides, think of what's coming in ten, or twenty years from now! This is not a meeting of the provincial nobility, where whatever you do will be forgotten in five years. This is a solemn reception at the Emperor's! Its record will go into the chronicles. What will it all look like? Even if you don't personally care about the honor of your family, at least think of the children!"

"What children?" Alex was stunned, not expecting such a turn of the chief-captain's angry monologue.

"About yours, about your children, Prince Cassard!" She exclaimed with a wave of her hands.

"But...I have no children. I think so," he protested, a little startled, and I don't think Lord Cassard has any children either, and I haven't heard anything about it in almost a month... Or... He got really scared. Hell, I only found out about a whole planet with fourteen billion people in three weeks, and almost by accident, so children on that scale can be lost for no reason at all.

"Not now," Artala agreed, and unknowingly she reassured him. "But they will! They certainly will, and why should they be stigmatized? How will they be accepted by society after this? Tell me, is this foolish outrage really worth their misery? Worth the stain on all future generations of the Cassard family?!"

Alex, who had never considered his actions from the perspective of "future" generations, was a little stumped by this question.

"I hadn't thought of that." He admitted honestly. "But... Your nightgowns with stones... that's just... Isn't there any other decent option but the mantle?" He groaned pitifully. "Maybe I'll wear the uniform of my Arm Guardsman?"

"But you weren't in the service, and this isn't a masquerade..." Artala began to object, but she paused as she ran her hand thoughtfully over her own uniform. "There may be some symbolism in that," she agreed, "but the mantle would be better."

"Not the mantle," Alex stated categorically, interrupting the Chief Captain. They exchanged sullen glances for a few seconds before Artala finally gave up.

"But why?!" She exclaimed, giving him a look of genuine incomprehension.

"Let's say..." He tried to articulate the reasons for his dislike of nightgowns in a way that would not arouse suspicion:

"... it's a matter of principle," he said with grim seriousness.

"Do you have some kind of bet?" Artala asked, looking at him suspiciously. "Or something to do with religion? But you're a secondarist..." She held up her hand as if to stop herself. "Never mind, if the mantle is so out of place, let it be a guardsman's uniform. It's more than decent, maybe a little too deliberate, but in your case, it's more of a plus than a minus.

"All right, uniform it is." Alex agreed tiredly. At least there are pants, and they're not translucent fabric, but that stand-up collar is death to the neck...

"Then let's go." The Chief Captain declared, grabbing his hand firmly and heading in the direction of the bushes where the arrested Melatians had been taken.

"Where exactly do you want to take me?" Alex asked in as neutral a tone as possible, just in case, and stayed where he was.

Chief Captain stopped, her face showing sincere doubts about her interlocutor's intelligence:

"Somewhere where you can change, of course. You're not going to do it here, are you? We'll find a servants' quarters... and it's quicker, and there are elevators..." She pointed eloquently to her long robe.

In the bushes was indeed an elevator, or rather a carefully camouflaged platform with a code panel, which, however, did not confuse Artala. She quickly typed some code, and the platform silently lowered to a narrow corridor, a laconic decoration that reminded more of warships than the palace of the emperor.

The appearance of the Grand Prince and his entourage took a couple of servants by surprise as they hurried down the corridor with empty trays in their hands. They hesitated at first, but then, having probably seen exactly who came down, made an attempt to disappear from the sight of the nobles, as if they were not here at all.

"You two, to me." Captain Niazur's commanding voice cut short the clumsy attempt to escape.

"You carry the plume," she declared and pointed a finger at the chest of the first servant who had run up and turned to the second. "And you, at once, find the head steward and tell him that I have ordered the white guardsman's uniform of Prince Cassard to be brought here."

Making sure her message was understood correctly, the captain took Alex under his arm again and walked quickly deeper into the maze of utilities under the garden. She was walking very confidently, obviously very well-versed in all these passages.

A few minutes later, they seemed to be in front of a faceless, gray door, which Artala opened without knocking. The small, modestly furnished room seemed to be for the servants' rest. At least that was what the three of them were doing at the moment, and there was a tray of sandwiches on the table and hot tea steaming in mugs. There were more mugs and sandwiches than the three of them needed.

"Out, all of you." She ordered the captain, with so much ice in her voice that Alex shuddered. "You, too, out." She told the servant who carried her mantle. "Until Prince Cassard's uniform arrives, do not disturb us."

"They tire me out," Artala said, closing the door behind the hastily departing servants. She picked up the plume of her mantle and sat down at the table with the plume on a nearby chair.

Once settled, the captain placed a small pendant with a suppressor on the table beside her and, without much ado, snatched someone else's sandwich that had already been bitten. She took two bites out of the leftovers and reached for the nearest mug of tea.

"Have a seat, Prince." She offered with her mouth full, pointing a second sandwich at an empty chair nearby. She ate quickly, grabbing large chunks while leaning over the table and keeping her elbows up so as not to stain her uniform. "It will take half an hour, at least, to deliver your dress."

"It's not bad, by the way, if you're hungry," Artala commented on her feast. "Help yourself."

She must have come from the lowest of the low. Alex thought, taking a silent seat across from me. A noble lady would have to spend a lot of time in the barracks to learn how to eat like that.

Artala must have noticed something in Alex's gaze:

"Must be an unpleasant sight, Prince?" She asked slyly, as she continued to eat her sandwiches.

The prince honestly cast his gaze over the captain once more as if seeing her for the first time:

"On the contrary, you're quite cute." He answered quite sincerely, a little surprised himself. Her cold sternness had disappeared from Artala, and her features had somehow softened. In front of him was a pretty girl with mischievous blue eyes, happily munching on other people's sandwiches. How old is she, after all?

The captain stopped chewing for a moment and, with an expressive eyebrow raised, measured Alex with a long, testing look:

"You're a man of weird tastes," she finally concluded. "I've heard something like that about you, though."

"Speaking of rumors. We're here alone, locked in. Won't that generate rumors?"

"Absolutely." Nodded the captain. "Something wild. She lured and dominated by force, that sort of thing."

"Why not the other way around?" He wondered. "With my reputation, it would make more sense."

"I'm a monster," she declared, gurgling her tea. "Can't you see?"

She did it rather charmingly. Alex was about to parry, with some harmless compliment, when suddenly he felt Artala's hand touch his knee under the table. He moved away reflexively, but the captain insistently touched him again.

Ignoring Alex's astonished looks, she continued to pretend she was just drinking her tea. She looked back, however, not playfully, with obvious irritation.

The possibility of flirting or a bad joke could be ruled out, and after a couple of seconds, he realized that the chief captain was trying to give him something inconspicuously.

Stopping to dodge, Alex put his hand up, and two small objects settled in the palm of his hand.

It was an ordinary-looking white pill and a miniature earpiece.

Progress has advanced. They make cicuta in pills. It ran through his head when he saw what he had received.

His first impulse was to throw it away. It is unlikely that, locked in the servants' room, under the table, with the suppressor on, he was handed something incriminating. But, "one who shall be hanged shall not be drowned," he was already potentially charged with sedition and murder of the Lord of the Empire.

Whatever they wanted to give me, I don't think it would make my situation any worse. How much worse can it get? And instead of throwing it away, Alex silently turned his questioning gaze to the giver. What's that supposed to mean, Guards Chief Captain?

Artala clearly understood his mute question, and instead of answering it, she touched her ear, as casually as she could, but so that he could see it. It was a clear hint that the earpiece was worth using.

The instructions are in the attachment. Alex sighed and put the earpiece in his ear as inconspicuously as possible. It'll be funny if it's some kind of explosive device.

There was a quiet squeak in the earpiece, and he heard a voice modulated by the machine:

"You have fallen into the domain of the Inquisition, Prince," Alex thought there was a gloat in the nonchalant tone of the machine that read the message, "The inspection is scheduled for the day of your arrival at Court."

So I hid in the capital during a turbulent time. He thought unhappily.

The inspection did not bode well. His very appearance in Lord Cassard's body was, to put it mildly, an abnormal event. And although Alex didn't notice any special possibilities for himself, Kayrin sincerely believed that the exchange of bodies was possible only if both changelings were adept. And she, being a telepathic adept, probably knew what she was talking about.

"My ability to influence the Inquisition is not great," the voice in the earpiece continued, "but I managed to arrange for you to be tested by a rather weak adept. In the pill you were given, a double dose of Black Rainbow. It significantly suppresses the manifestations of the ability of all types of Gifted. Hopefully, this and your innate talents will be enough. The drug needs about a minute to take effect, and the effect will last for about two hours. After the test, try to drink as much alcohol as possible and refrain from going to the bathroom for three to four hours, during which time Rainbow will completely decompose."

The mechanical voice fell silent briefly, and after a pause added:

"As you can see, I am no stranger to gratitude. Good luck."

With the gifted ones I understand, but what about the limited ones? thought Alex, hiding the pill and the earpiece. A clear greeting from the past from the real Prince Cassard. Who is this benefactor? Artala herself, or is she just the doer? If one has an entire captain of the guard as executor, Prince Cassard must have had some very powerful friends in the capital.

Too bad I don't know them.

"What if I'm not hungry?" he said, looking expressively at Artala, hoping she would understand that it wasn't really about sandwiches.

"As you wish," she hummed and shrugged her shoulders, adding, "My business is to offer, Prince."

Eating unknown drugs, with unclear effects, did not seem like a good idea:

But a reserve, too, doesn't stretch your pocket. Especially before the Inquisition inspection.

Soon servants delivered a white guardsman's uniform for Prince Cassard. Ten minutes later, he and Artala took their place at the very beginning of a huge motley wedge drawn from the uneven rows of nobles who had arrived at the onstum. Its tip, like a battering ram aimed at the gates of an enemy's fortress, rested against the "ceremonial entrance" - an incredible height of the golden mirrored doors decorated with gold and metal vines on top of the mirrored surface. Somewhere behind there thundered the staff of the chief steward, evidently not without hidden speakers, and nervous whispering that filled the garden instantly subsided. The doors shook and began to move apart slowly, the light breeze that came in from that side was cool and smelling pine, and the narrow strip of sky above was the pale-pale slightly purple tint. When the doors opened, a long palace staircase and a large stone platform, or rather an open terrace, onto which the staircase led, became visible.

The grounds were almost empty except for a guard of honor in white navy uniforms, standing motionless like statues, with their long, rifle-like blasters fancifully wrapped around the stocks of their white-gloved hands. They stood in two thin chains on either side of a blue carpet embroidered around the edges with some kind of luminous markings. The path began at the foot of the stairs and, crossing the small open space of the balcony dipped into a broad archway and disappeared into the glittering depths of the palace.

To the music pouring out from all sides, the first couple of the brilliant Lady Nadine and her equally brilliant attendant began their ascent.

Alex mentally counted to four, as he had been trained to do, and, taking Artala's hand at the perfect "statutory" angle, he followed, counting his steps so as to match the pace of his escort's footsteps. The ranks of the other noblemen who had come to the onstum followed. They descended the ramp in ever-increasing numbers and entered the palace, walking through endless enfilades of halls, toward the center, the throne room.

The top nobility of the empire,... The offspring of the most influential and powerful clans....The Hostages.

No. Worse. An inner voice, as always inadvertently, interfered with the philosophical train of thought:

Conscripts.

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