Chapter 3

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Taer sat in her room and was angry.

She dragged the hog up to the aerocar, stayed up all hours while he was passed out, went through interrogations... And what? Nothing!

"I want to be alone, get my thoughts together," she mocked, turning on the security terminal.

"No, after all, I'm a modest girl, and I didn't expect to be accepted into the House Blades. Though they accepted for less than saving a lord's life. But at least he could have given me a hint about nobility! Anybody else would have been... eh!" The girl, sighing sadly, leaned back in her chair and, turning to the terminal, called up an image from the lord's bedroom. He was twirling in front of the mirror, seemingly admiring himself. This made Taer even angrier, and with the words, "What a smug jerk," she switched the terminal.

Yes, she was unlucky with the lord: her meteoric career crashed against Lord Allesandro like crystal dreams crashing against the harsh concrete of reality.

Taer was born and brought up in a small mining town, there were no prospects there. It was just a shithole. She'd received a scholarship to a public school in Riena, paid for by the retainer of House Fyron. They found the girl promising. She did her best to prove - there was no mistake. After school, there was Riena University, then a navigator's course, and everywhere she was top of the class. A well-deserved reward was the epaulets of Peleng-Lieutenant in House Fyron's Naval Intelligence Service.

Three successful operations and a record in her personnel file: 'officer with an artistic and original approach', an invitation to the Guard, an intensive training course, and a year as a retainer. By the age of twenty-two, she was already a Guardsman of the 'inner circle' with a good chance of becoming a Captain in the next two or three years. It was an obscenely dizzying career that couldn't help but generate rumors. Given her looks, most of the rumors were more than ambiguous. However, two duels, one of which ended in her opponent's prosthetic arm, resulted in the rumors being quashed and a reprimand from the Ergo-Captain of the Guard.

All in all, things were going so well that they could not have gone any better, and when she was offered - to join the "arm" and the post of "personal security specialist" - she did not even hesitate and agreed. After all, the prospects were such that it was breathtaking: as everyone knows, young nobles tend to grow up, and when they grow up, they take up positions. And she had not just been given an Earl, but a Lord! Which means a family representative in the Consulate, and then a place in the 'Privy'. And that's where they decide who, where, and what place will be occupied, and they prefer to appoint people close to them to important positions. So First Blade Taer, then Knight Taer Diltar, and then, who knows, by the age of thirty-five, Countess Diltar! That would be a good time to get busy with her personal life. But it was either fate or jealousy in the Guard that put her in harm's way. And then such a stopper!

Lord Allesandro Cassard. Completely, utterly uninterested in politics. And if only that. But by this point, he had quarreled with most of the powerful families of House Fyron and had acquired a reputation so scandalous it was doubtful whether it could be called a reputation! So Taer was doomed to remain a perpetual guard under Lord Allesandro.

"It could have been daim Taer Baron Diltar. Sounds good, doesn't it? Or even, daim Taer Lady Diltar. She was distracted from her pleasant thoughts of the possible title by the shouts from the next room.

"The lord seems to have forgotten where the communicator button is," she guessed and decided to make the most of that guess. First, she blocked the droids, then switched on the security terminal and, making sure no servants or guests were around, waited. The screams from the next room grew more pitiful by the minute.

"There was even a hint of despair in his lordship's voice," she remarked gloatingly.

After about eight minutes, the lord grew tired of shouting and made another attempt to find the communicator.

Well, I'll catch him with his butt naked as moral compensation, Taer thought and walked into the room, putting on her best protocol face possible.

Shit, how do I call her? Well, they didn't hide the phone under the bed! Still, it's worth seeing if that's how they do it. Alex squatted down to look under the bed when suddenly, "Did you call my lord?" came from behind him. Turning sharply, he saw Taer. A wall panel was sliding into place behind her (Nice castle I've got here, even the secret passages! he thought). He made a reflexive attempt to cover himself, then remembered: he is, after all, a lord, and there is nothing to be ashamed of maids.

"Security, are you always this quick to react? I'd have been stabbed a hundred times by now, or worse," he sat down on the bed and threw the blanket over his hips with the utmost carelessness.

"My lord, if you had used the comm or the servants' call button, I would have arrived immediately. If you had been attacked, the biomonitors in the bedroom would have detected the change in your physical status. When I received the signal, I would have reacted accordingly," Taer said, standing at attention with a completely impenetrable face.

"Look... Taer, eh? What do you want from a memoryless man? I don't remember anything: neither where the button is, nor what a comm is, nor how to use it," deciding that criticism was unnecessary in this case, "lord" decided to come at it from the other side.

The girl, keeping an impassive face, walked over to the bed and showed me where the button was (one of the trinkets on the bed was being pressed) and where the communicator was - Alex mistook it for a desk lamp.

"The communicator is switched on here, Your Lordship. The green channel is the link to the attendant on duty, and the red channel is the security service, i.e. me," Showing how to turn on the communicator, Taer bent over and presented herself to the newly minted lord in a rather peculiar way. Interesting pinching the ass of a Guardsman and a security specialist - how is that? Is it allowed to noble lords, or is it going to be punched in the eye? To distract himself, he moved on to more practical matters. And, trying to put as much gratitude as he could into his words, he thanked:

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"Thank you very much, Taer!"

"I am only doing my duty, my lord! I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you sooner!" The girl stretched out again.

"Here's the deal. I have a proposition for you: since I don't remember anything yet anyway, we forget all the lordships and milords, and we talk like normal people. You help me remember, and I promise to be a good lord and obey you. And above all, no hard feelings! Do we have a deal?" Alex looked intently into the girl's face. I wonder if I'm just screwing around, or incredibly screwed up? She even seemed to warm up a little, but it was hard to tell, her face was masterful.

"All right, Your Lordship!" Taer relaxed her left leg and arms, demonstratively moving from "at attention" to "at ease".

"I thought we agreed without the lordships. And you're not on parade - just sit back and relax."

"Good," she sat down in the chair beside the bed, folding her arms across her chest. The mask of impassivity was still on her face.

Still sulking, Alex chagrined.

"Look, I really don't remember what it was before (even the professor will tell you) and if I've offended you, I really don't mean it. I'm sorry, huh?"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Really? That's great! I don't want to offend you," Alex tried to smile as 'friendly' as possible.

"Well, now that we've agreed, no hard feelings, just so there are no misunderstandings... nothing happened between us? Because I've forgotten everything."

"What do you mean?" Taer seemed so surprised that she forgot her mask of impassivity.

"Well, you know, between a man and a woman, especially if they live together, things can happen... well... things."

The girl jumped up angrily from her chair, then came to her senses and sat back down:

"There was nothing!"

"Well, now that we've sorted out all the misunderstandings, you're not holding a grudge. Can you help me get some clothes?"

As she approached the wall, she pressed some kind of panel, and a passageway opened up:

"Your dressing room, My Lord," There was such a range of feelings embedded in the word "My Lord" that Alex realized there was definitely nothing between them, and pinching her ass was not a good idea, to say the least. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he walked over to the wall and peered into the opening: shelves, hangers, and racks of various garments went deep, forming a narrow corridor twenty meters long.

"Erm... could you pick something up for me. I can't even remember what to wear here," he looked a little confused.

Twenty minutes later, Alex looked at his reflection and sighed sorrowfully. Finally, his soul couldn't take it anymore:

"Don't we have anything simpler? Well, at least like yours?"

"It's your favorite costume, and it's the latest thing," Taer smiled. It was a wicked smile.

Well, of course: a bright scarlet turban combined with a yellow shawl and grey flared trousers - Zverev would have been jealous. But all he said out loud was:

"Yes, I don't argue, the look is very fashionable indeed, but I'd like something that doesn't restrict movement. I could wear it to the walk around the castle, walk around the park, and, well, have something to eat."

Taer roared softly and went back into the wardrobe. After another half an hour, we settled on a light "hunting" set - moccasins, baggy trousers with an equally baggy shirt. After changing, we went to have a "snack" looking around the castle at the same time.

They walked up the wide staircase, which was a dark red marble with white veining, down a floor, passing several corridors and arched bridges that spanned the vast halls. Taer stayed slightly behind him, appearing over his right shoulder whenever a door needed to be opened. She was also the first to enter any room.

She's watching, yeah. I'll have to ask her for a map because if I go alone, I'll get lost. That is, of course, if I'm allowed to walk around my own castle alone.

Taer opened another door, and they entered a room paneled in dark red wood. A single but huge window faced the garden.

"This is the small dining, my lord, where you used to take your friends. I thought you might be more comfortable here now."

"Thank you, very cozy indeed. And didn't we agree on "my lords"?"

Taer pursed her lips and looked away, defiantly ignoring the last words.

What a prick, sulking for God knows why...

The room was indeed small by local standards - a measly hundred square meters, to the eye. The room was dominated by a huge, low table accompanied by massive low-backed chairs. The table, like the chairs, was wooden, judging by the legs peeking out from under the tablecloth. Three monstrous machines (those... what do you call them... "droids"?) with trays were just finishing setting the table with a variety of food. The droids were commanded by an imposing man who looked so imposing that if he had put on a burka and a papa, he would have looked like Chapaev. The mustache alone was worth it!

On seeing the entrants, Chapaev bowed his head slightly and pushed one of the chairs aside with the words: "Please, my lord".

"Barra, the steward of this estate," a whisper came from somewhere over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Barra," Alex plumped into the chair with all the aristocracy he could muster and sniffed cautiously. It smelled delicious - roast meat and something else unfamiliar. The implements around the plate were horrifying in their appearance and quantity. Finally finding something on the table that most resembled a fork, he grabbed it quickly.

"What is this?"

"Roast fillet of Karsarg with a side dish of Arnichons, my lord," "Chapaev's" voice came from somewhere behind me. "One of your favorite dishes."

"Right, my favorite..." Alex plunged his fork into the appetizing piece and dragged it into his mouth, but then Taer's hand was on his arm, and she answered his questioning look with a reproachful tone:

"You are forgetting something, my lord."

"What, are you going to make me wash my hands?"

"No, my lord, Professor Ayuyun has asked me to ensure that you take this medicine," Taer placed a small jar of clear plastic on the table, filled with dark blue capsules that sparkled slightly in the light. "But in case you ever want to join in on the hygiene benefits, the door to the lavatory is behind you."

"How nice. Thank you for the information, Guardsman. All right, if medicine insists." Alex, sighing, popped one capsule into his mouth and downed what the alert Chapaev had poured into his glass.

"What was that?" He grimaced and asked, putting the jar into his pocket.

"Fenote is a memory and mental stimulant. You were prescribed to take it three times a day," Taer added gloatingly. She seemed to be hoping that the medicine tasted very nasty.

"No, I mean what was in the glass. Can I get something non-alcoholic? I don't like that stuff."

"This is your favorite wine, my lord, Bentar Dew."

Oooh, I think I'm busted, the way they're looking at me like I'm asking them for a star in the sky. Looks like Lord Allesandro started drinking early in the morning. Yes, a gift of cirrhosis for everyone who brings it.

"I'll make the arrangements now!" The steward's long practice did not help him to hide the surprised tone in his voice, and he stepped back against the wall and began dictating orders into his sleeve - he must have had a communicator there.

Two minutes later, when Alex was already savoring a fillet of Karsarg, a droid appeared with drinks, which was very welcome.

"By the way, are you guys still going to stand over me and stare at me? I can't get a bite in my mouth," Alex queried, trying to catch the slippery arnichon with his fork.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, if you need anything, then..."

"Stop!" Alex interrupted Chapaev and, pointing to his chair with his fork, continued. "I'm only suggesting that you have breakfast together. Have a seat, Barra. That goes for you too, Guardsman."

"But effectively ensuring your safety means being able to move freely," Taer protested.

"You being able to move freely around the table. And then I'd feel safer with a well-fed security specialist, or you'd pounce and bite me. Anyway, think of it as an order."

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