* * *

"And then, Your Lordship, you had the pleasure of swearing in unknown words..."

"Well, that's good - so no one understood!"

"Well, it would have been if it hadn't been for a protocol droid being nearby!"

There was a carefully concealed shadow of gloating on my "Security Officer's" face: the only acceptable way to avenge her lord and fate was telling the truth. That was not exactly what the soul craved (a good kick would have been better), but the wise could rejoice in small things. And the security officer considered herself a wise person.

"And what did this droid... record?" I asked cautiously.

"He did not record at the moment, Your Lordship. But what you call Baron Kouifi he did translate," the girl glanced at the tablet in her left hand and recited with a certain solemnity and almost undisguised pleasure. "By the male sex organ of a large mammal who dares to wake me, and also by the female sex organ with increased hairiness of the legs or lower limbs, who should immediately be removed by the method of performing sexual intercourse with all those around!"

"Wow, that's quite a twist! What about the Baron?"

The Baron said that the only thing that saved your life was that he accurately identified the type of poison. This neurotoxin has a strong effect on thinking and memory, and had it not been for this circumstance, the duel would have taken place immediately, despite his advanced age and despite your lamentable condition.

It's embarrassing, hurting the old man for nothing, while he saved my life... Anyway, what the hell with him, he's not in the mood now - we're going to audit everything...

So... I'm in a room the size of a medium-sized football pitch - the setting is reminiscent of Louis, Versailles, and the smart word "baroque". I'm lying on a bed about five meters across, simply bursting with all sorts of fancy trinkets. The bed and the rest of the furniture are in two colors: white and red. White ranges from snowy to platinum, while red degrees from purple to bright scarlet.

Above my head was a domed ceiling with an epic battle scene: against a background of explosions, flames, and a pile of bodies in incomprehensible armor, a bloodied and eerily heroic young man with a burning gaze as if calling... probably to attack. He had no armor on. Instead of a weapon, he use a tattered and scorched scarlet flag, on which stood a white heraldic beast, a griffin apparently. The wall in front of the bed was missing, replaced by a full-length window. The window was filled with white clouds and the green tops of some vegetation.

In the room, there was also a blond girl of the most determined appearance, dressed in a red and white... tunic? livery? And some kind of machine, most reminiscent of the props from the seventies movie "Killer Robots from Mars".

To my legitimate question - "Who are you?" - the girl introduced herself as a "personal security specialist" and described the mysterious machine as a "medical droid". And all this around, if she was to be believed, was my bedroom in my private estate, where I had been taken after an attempted poisoning.

The question remains: why would anyone want to poison me, Alexander Flim? Or just Alex, a twenty-four-year-old Moscow resident, Russian citizen, unemployed, unaccounted for, uninvolved, institutional, and so on and so forth... And where did I get a castle and a "personal security specialist" with a droid? Excuse me - a medical droid...

* * *

The day ended in a perfectly mundane way. Having finished creating new businesses in AdWords, I went to Azugl to see how much I had earned. My joy at what I had earned was overshadowed only by the foreboding of the troubles associated with cashing out. But, in any case, it would be a pleasure. Somehow sleep did not come, so I started killing time in my favorite way: proving to someone on the Internet how wrong they were - an activity, absolutely pointless but bringing a lot of moral satisfaction.

It was a heated argument - I had long and persistently argued on the forum with someone called Nemezis that even if a person is transported to a completely unfamiliar world, everything depends only on their abilities, not their environment. If that environment allows a person to survive, at least in theory. There was no convincing win, so I jokingly agreed to "prove it in practice" and went off to bed, slightly annoyed.

And then I had a bad dream. I hadn't had a nightmare in the last twelve years - I'd been lucky - and then, suddenly! I was either falling or flying somewhere, a sea of lemon-yellow flame raging beneath me, with occasional giant waves of purple and gray smoke. I couldn't feel the heat, but I could feel myself getting more tired with every second.

A wave of purple, almost black, flames swept over me, and with it came darkness and heaviness. It got heavier and heavier, and I wanted to scream, but I couldn't even breathe. There was no sense of time - it seemed to go on forever. There was a sluggish hope in my mind that I would soon wake up, that I was about to wake up, and that would be it.

And so, when suddenly there was wild pain, light, and an incredible cacophony of sounds echoing in my skull, it was perceived as deliverance. There was a bright light in my eyes, some old man in a freakish turban was trying to pour some nasty stuff into my mouth, people were running around, shouting, and sirens were howling in the distance.

I pushed the old man away with the last of my strength and fell into oblivion.

* * *

Taer sat by the bedside of her lord, trying to figure out what was going to happen to her next. In the four days since the assassination attempt, she had thought many things over and exhausted her nerves almost completely. It was only on the third day the ray of hope for an awakening began to flicker.

At first, everyone thought the lord was about to die. This meant, at the very least, an end to her career and most an accusation of complicity with the prospect of hard labor (at worst) or a firing squad (at best). She spent three days without sleep and began to resemble her own shadow.

And, yes, she wasn't the only one getting on her nerves - there was someone to help her with that, there was...

She was questioned eight or ten times a day. On the way to the hospital. The police... Extremely polite and pale at the prospect of investigating the Lord's murder, fearful of incurring the wrath of the Great Houses with both successful and unsuccessful investigations.

In the hospital corridor outside the emergency room, she was approached by men with 'House Fyron's own Intelligence' credentials and made transparent hints about her fate if important information left the family. And then, a series of interrogations and threats coalesced into a huge lump of problems that seemed about to crush Taer and change the once successful young guard into a miserable convict. Or a grave with the prisoner's number instead of a name.

She was interrogated by everyone:

Sector Rangers. Who seems to have just happened to be in the area and decided to look for contraband here, just in case. Or the showdown of those who controlled the smuggling. Her reserve of aplomb and Guardian impudence was still enough to quickly dismiss these upstarts.

Then there was the Guardia's Internal Investigation Service. These tried to frighten her. They were very interested in the degree of her competence. They claim it was only possible to poison the lord with her assistance. Taer erupted, yelled at them, threatened to challenge them to a duel, and reminded them that as long as the lord lived, she was under his hand and out of their jurisdiction. The counter-intelligence men, smirking rancorously, departed, and promising to continue the conversation "after all formalities with the lord have been completed". She could barely keep herself from pulling out her blaster and shooting them on the spot.

But that was just the beginning - it didn't take long for the berries to appear.

At night - she had heard that nighttime was a favorite time for such visits - the second day, the Imperial Security Service came to her. Three burly men in civilian clothes and a Stack-lieutenant in a black SS uniform. In the boots instead of shoes, as if from a parade.

After showing their IDs, they asked her to surrender her weapon. In response to Taer's question, "Am I under arrest?" they were ominously silent. She was handcuffed and taken to the black six-seater aerocar waiting outside the hospital.

Then some shouted at her and threatened her with hard labor, execution, prison, and dismissal from the Guard. Others talked heart-to-heart, persuaded her, offered her drinks, offered to help and patronize her, and reminded her of her honor as a Guardsman.

She had not been beaten or injected with Lim's serum, so Taer drew two conclusions: first, the lord was still alive; second, there had been no authorization for her arrest, and she was still "detained until further investigation", which was, in theory, against a member of the Great House Guards.

The interrogations continued for twelve hours: every two hours, interrogators changed, but Taer was still the same. She sluggishly fought the interrogators off, feeling more and more groggy by the hour. And she was already beginning to look at the blaster in the holster of another interrogator with a wicked interest, thinking, "I wonder if I can snatch the gun from him, shoot the bastard and shoot myself before the security guards react..." When suddenly, the angel of salvation appeared.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The door swung open, and Countess Darlurl gracefully burst into the interrogation room, smiling at those present. She had always burst in for as long as Taer could remember her. She was followed by the crayfish-red Chief of Security on the Capeira Stack-major Sheldon. Holding up her dress, the Countess found herself beside Taer, glared at her, and, with a wave of her arms, began to scold Sheldon:

"Release this poor creature immediately!"

"But, Countess, look, she may be part of a conspiracy and..."

"I don't want to hear anything! Immediately!" The Countess raised her voice two octaves and stomped her foot menacingly.

The almighty SS clashed with the Nobility. Sheldon puffed up even more:

"This may be a dangerous criminal and a valuable witness!" The major started to get worked up and finally broke down into a shout. "You have no right!"

I wonder if it will burst or not? Taer thought aloof as she watched the scene.

The Countess approached the scarlet-haired SS chief and, extending her hand so that the Major could get a proper look at the ring, shouted no more quietly than he did:

"I am IN MY RIGHT here!" the Countess lowered her tone, almost hissing. "If you do not release her immediately..."

Classy vocal ability, Taer languidly observed.

Stack-major somehow deflated, as if the air had been blown out of him:

"Take her! But know this, I won't leave it like this... Governor.”

The Countess did not let Sheldon speak and, smiling radiantly, led Taer out of this branch of hell.

Later, in the flyer, Countess Darlurl showed the Privy ring to Taer as well, hinting that both the Consulat and the Privy would be very upset if the shadow of suspicion fell on anyone from House Fyron. And there was no need to "wash our dirty linen in public". Seeing the girl's reaction, the Countess moved closer to her and continued without any threat in her voice and a more trusting tone:

“Well, well, Guardsman, that's not a threat, that's a hint. Very useful and timely for you. Imperial Intelligence and Imperial Security, in their eternal attempts to outmaneuver each other, are diligently searching for conspiracies against the Emperor and the TAC terrorists. Even where there weren't any. They want something big so they can proudly bring it to the Imperial Council, and then, who knows, maybe they'll get it. They'd eat you alive if you gave them the slightest hint of weakness.”

The Countess snarled as if to show exactly how the poor Guardsman would be eaten and continued:

"And you take it easy - remember, for now, Sheldon only has Sector SS behind him and House Fyron behind us. Sheldon is not dangerous - the Governor will not support him, seeing that this threatens to bring down relations with the Great Houses. After all, he has a retirement in two years, and he'd really want that retirement to be an honorable one..."

Two hours later, Taer was already saying goodbye to the Countess, standing on the landing pad outside the Blue Flame Castle, which was normally used by the Lord as his country residence on Copeira, and where he had been brought from the hospital:

"I don't even know, Your Grace, how I can thank you for saving me..."

"Oh, come now, my dear! Just hint to your Lord, when he wakes up, that if it were not for me - he would not have his best Guardsman, and that thanks I prefer to take in the form of yachts of the first rank, or puppies of Worskl!" seeing a slightly confused Taer, Countess laughed resoundingly, and winked mischievously added." Just joking, guardsman, don't worry! You don't owe me anything. You don't have to shoot yourself!"

Patting her on the shoulder she disappeared out the door of the flyer.

The first person she saw in the castle was the steward. Weyang Barra, a slightly overweight but not yet old, is a short man with a luxurious mustache and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing the ceremonial livery of House Fyron, which, by its appearance, had been on for twenty-four hours. The turmoil of the attempted poisoning had not escaped him. His face was marked by fatigue, his eyes dulled, and he seemed perceptibly older. Remembering that she probably looked no better now, Taer suppressed the urge to tease Barra about his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Barra! Has the long arm of imperial justice reached you, too?" Taer wagged her fingers at her temple, a sort of vaguely military salute.

"I'm a modest bird; I was only interviewed by the police investigator yesterday. Not like you. I thought I was going to have to send parcels to you in prison," he smiled wearily.

"Why do you look so bad, then? And he's all crumpled up! Are you abusing the maids again?" Taer tried to think of a better joke, but it was all she could do at the moment. N-o-o-o-o, bed now! Or I'll bury my reputation for good! She decided.

"I'd rather be groping maids than this!"

After some brief questioning of Barra, it became clear that all the near and distant relatives and other potential heirs had turned up immediately upon hearing of the incident. The Lord never drew up a will, so the showdown began as soon as more than one heir arrived. For the next two days, the castle resembled a scorpion jar, and the noble lords preferred to vent their frustrations on Barra. Sympathizing with the butler, Taer quietly, using the back rooms, made her way to her bedroom and fell into bed. As she was, dressed.

She was awakened by a shrieking and, as usual, slightly panicky protocol droid, whose shouts made her realize that the Lord had not only regained consciousness but had even sworn at those present. Though in an unknown language. H2U4 immediately translated, causing an unhealthy commotion in the noble audience present. Taer switched on the security terminal and activated the camera in the lord's bedroom, which she had covertly installed six months ago (no, no, she is not a pervert, but if you are going to ensure security, then ensure it everywhere!).

The Lord, lying on the bed, pushing off Baron Kouifi, and the professor urgently brought in from Riena University, who were trying to give him an injection. As he did so, the Lord swore floridly. The protocol droid standing beside him translated meticulously. With every word the lord spoke, the faces of the "heirs" present grew darker and darker. No, he did not touch them personally in his speech - it was addressed mainly to the baron and the professor - but with each word money and potential power flew further and further away from the potentially hereditary hands.

When the lord was transported from the emergency room to the castle, and it was clear that he was not going to die right away, it was hoped that it was just such a long agony. However, the medics said there was no reason to worry about his physical health. Neurotoxins are tricky, though, even if he survives, the lord stands a good chance of becoming a vegetable. He is not a bad thing either for the 'heirs'. A person in such a state would require a guardian. Now, the lord has made it abundantly clear that he has no intention of becoming a vegetable, for he swears quite deliberately and ingeniously (albeit in an unknown language) which means proving incompetence will be far more difficult. If at all.

I hope they wouldn't poison him a second time. Because of frustration. Or an accident with the medical equipment, Taer thought, quickly changing into fresh clothes.

I'll have to be a nurse, the girl decided as she stepped out into the corridor. She decided not to use the secret door between their bedrooms (one must always be able to intervene) so as not to expose it to the "heirs". She bumped into Lady Cayrin in the corridor and couldn't help but congratulate her on her third cousin's recovery, almost without hiding her gloating. The Baroness measured her with a cold stare and thanked her, promising, however, not to forget her care and to bestow it on her at the earliest opportunity. Yeah. This one definitely won't forget. and she will pay back. I have to control myself!

By the time Taer entered the bedroom the professor and baron's fight with the lord was over, and the latter was sleeping peacefully - the injection seemed to have taken its toll. The "heirs", trying to keep poker faces and appear cheerful, dispersed. Seeing the girl, the baron smiled, causing the wrinkles to form a bizarre network.

"Ahhhh, my dear Taer! You probably already know, don't you?"

"The droid informs me that the lord has regained consciousness and is speaking profanely of those present," Taer tried to keep her face as serious as possible, but her eyes were still laughing.

"Yes, when Professor Ayuyun started giving the injection, Allesandro woke up and said everything he thought about those who woke him up. I have to admit I learned a lot about myself! Where did he get it from? He had never had a taste for rare languages, that's for sure."

"The Lord has always had a talent for originally expressing his thoughts. Especially when he is in bad mood."

"Yes, but luckily you usually managed to stop him from doing that," Baron Kouifi winked at her amicably. "If it hadn't been for you, he would have been killed in duels for sure by now. Five or six times."

"I'm afraid you are exaggerating, Baron. I think the reason for the lack of calls was the lord's reputation. And he's always just refused. You know that."

"I'd call a duel on you if you were of noble birth. That's what Lord Reithy seemed to have said when the kid, while drunk, poured wine over him and called him a spongy brat, boasting of the antiquity of his wretchedness."

"Yes, sire, unfortunately, I was not able to stop him," her voice became darker; she did not like to talk about her failures.

"It's not your fault, clever girl! You've done what you could to keep the reputation of the Family and the House intact, unlike Alex. He's done everything he can to ruin it! All his drinking, his girls, his drunken escapades... And most importantly, in front of everyone! If it hadn't been for your he would have put on a halftime show," the Baron shook his head grimly. "The death of his parents had taken its toll on him. I was a friend of Galen's, and I swore I would look after his son, but it seems..."

"Sire, what is your assessment of the Lord's condition now, and when will he make a full recovery?" Taer made a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation.

"Well, it's hard to say. He's physically fully recovered now, but neurotoxins are insidious. We don't know how badly his thinking is affected. Maybe he'll wake up tomorrow as he was before, or maybe he'll be an idiot who only remembers swearing. We have to wait."

After escorting Baron Kuifi, who had urgent business in the capital, Taer waited, making sure that no one put anything in the medicine or even approached the lord. The wait was short-lived as the lord regained consciousness the next morning.

The girl was just checking the scanner when the lord suddenly opened his eyes, looked around, stopped his gaze on her, and asked:

"Who are you?"

"I am your personal security officer, Guardian Taer Diltar," the lord clearly did not recognize her - that could have caused problems.

"Bloody hell! Where am I?" He kept looking around dazedly.

"You are in your castle on Capeira, where you were taken after an attempted poisoning," Taer tried to speak as calmly as possible, but excitement cut through her voice.

"That's great! What the hell is that?" The lord pointed a finger at the Meddroid.

"A medical droid, Your Lordship."

"And who I am?"

"You are Lord Allesandro Cassard."

"Hmm... interesting. Listen, girl, has there ever been an old man in a purple turban like that around here?"

"Of course, he was, Your Grace. This is Baron Kouifi."

Thank God he remembers something.

"He also poured some nasty stuff in my mouth..."

"Yes, Sire, he was the first to determine that you were poisoned and administered the antidote that saved your life," Taer's voice brightened visibly. He is beginning to remember! I hope he remembers gradually.

"How long have I been here?" The lord was looking at her with noticeable interest, and the initial daze seemed to be gone, replaced by curiosity.

"Fourth day, sire," he said, making Taer look a little embarrassed, but she didn't show it. There's something strange about him. He usually doesn't notice me at all!

"What have I been doing here for four days?" He was already staring at her frankly.

That doesn't look like him at all!

"You lying down, sire, and then you deigned to swear in unknown words," the "security specialist" took the opportunity to explain exactly how the lord had sworn at those present... and who exactly.

That helped a little - he stopped staring at her, sat down on the bed, and in a bit of thoughtfulness, first pressed one eye with his thumb, then the other, and then began to pinch himself. Looks like I rejoiced too soon: the words about the idiot are beginning to come true, Taer thought in a slight panic and reached for the communicator to call the professor and his nurses-assistants.

* * *