As the grey landscape passed by, Duke Damian Callahad observed the ash-covered trees through the window of his luxurious train cabin. The cabin, a haven of comfort and opulence amidst the desolation of the outside world, was lined with dark, polished wood panels and adorned with velvet curtains that filtered the grey morning light. Soft leather seats, stitched with precision and care, offered a welcoming comfort, contrasting with the harshness of the landscapes outside.
Damian, a man of athletic stature and piercing gaze, reflected on the transformation of the landscape, having not traveled to the capital for some time. His short hair and the scar at the corner of his right lip, marked by years of conflicts and difficult decisions, completed his menacing figure.
His daughter Sylvie, at four years old, slept peacefully beside him, her head resting gently on her father's lap, dressed in a delicate white dress chosen affectionately by Damian. The diffused light of the cabin highlighted the golden strands of her hair, creating a halo around her.
Seated across from them, Lieutenant Mikhail Orlov watched the scene with a mix of interest and something more. Mikhail emanated a robust and imposing presence, his short, dark brown hair almost as severe as his cold, calculating expression. A medal of Ouroboros, the symbol of the empire's special forces, stood out on his military uniform, an element of prestige and power in his figure.
"Duke Damian Callahad, your presence in the capital will be more than decisive. As you may have read in your telegram, your esteemed presence would be accompanied by me... For security measures. I hope this does not inconvenience your journey," Mikhail said with a voice that conveyed enthusiasm, but his eyes revealed something more - a contained disdain, a fatigue from the role he played."So different from his brother," thought the duke.
"Come now Mikhail, no need for so many formalities. We are among friends," replied Damian, shifting his gaze from the landscape to face the lieutenant.
"Do not misunderstand me, Duke, I am here at the emperor's court's request. I cannot treat you without formality, and that is non-negotiable. Orders are orders, you understand, don't you?" As he said this, his eyes twinkled at the sight of the girl.
"Yes, I understand." Damian covered his beloved daughter's ears. "If you know that I served in the army, you must also know how many men I've killed, don't you?" The duke observed the lieutenant, but this time, there was violence in his gaze. "Take your eyes off my daughter. She is mine."
"Lord Callahad, please don't misunderstand... Oh... please, it's not what you think. I merely noticed she looked like someone I know..."
"Be silent. I know where this is heading, no more words on that." Callahad placed his hand in his coat pocket.
"Your words are the words of God." The lieutenant bowed his head, then closed his mouth.
The sound of firm knocks on the door interrupted the tense silence that had settled in the cabin. Damian Callahad raised an inquiring look towards the door, while Mikhail Orlov straightened his posture.
"Come in," said Damian with a calm but authoritative voice.
The door opened, and Captain Ivan Zinoviev entered, his robust figure filling the entrance. His short, graying hair, meticulously combed back, and the serious and determined expression on his face. He stopped shortly after entering, maintaining a respectful stance.
"With your permission, Lord Callahad," Ivan began, his voice low and firm. "I have important information to share."
Damian nodded for him to continue, his expression becoming more focused. Sylvie, still asleep, remained oblivious to the conversation.
"Erik Volkov is on board this train," Ivan revealed, closely observing his lord's reaction. "He is in one of the front cabins and seems to be on his way to the capital as well."
The mention of Erik Volkov's name caused Damian to frown, "What would Erik be doing in this place?"
"Alright, Ivan. Thank you for letting me know, ask him to come as soon as possible." As he finished, Damian gently stroked Sylvie's head.
"Very well. With your permission, Lord Callahad, I will take my leave." A brief salute was given before he left, closing the door behind him.
The silence continued in the room, but this time it was different. Damian and Mikhail exchanged looks, perhaps trying to read the cards in their hands. The atmosphere became tense as both men moved their hands closer to their pockets.
"And so, Mikhail..." said Damian, his eyes fixed on Mikhail making him feel diminished. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
"What do you mean, Duke Damian?" Mikhail shifted his focus between his right hand and Damian's eyes. "If you are referring to Erik Volkov's presence, there's nothing I can tell you about that. My mission has always been to escort Your Majesty."
"Lieutenant, I ask that you leave." Damian's gaze weighed heavily on Mikhail.
"Very well, if you wish it so, I will do so. But tell me, aren't you worried about your daughter's safety?" Mikhail said as he headed towards the door.
"It's fine for you to stay away; she has me to protect her."
After Mikhail's departure, the cabin was enveloped in silence. Damian, still seated comfortably, let his gaze wander to the landscape passing by outside, lost in thought. The mention of Erik Volkov brought back memories of a violent past. However, the serene and innocent presence of Sylvie by his side was a constant reminder of the responsibilities he had beyond the game of power and intrigue.
"Ah, Sylvie..." Damian said, caressing his daughter's head and looking at her with love.
Sylvie began to stir. Her eyes slowly opened, the color purple shimmering like they were glowing. She looked at her father with a sleepy expression.
"Did I wake you, princess?" her father asked, gently stroking her legs.
"Daddy...?" Sylvie rubbed her eyes, getting used to the light. "Have we arrived...?" she asked after blinking her beautiful eyes several times.
"No, princess, we haven't arrived yet..., but it won't be long, okay?" Damian smiled tenderly.
"How much longer, daddy?" The little girl seemed more awake now.
Damian thought for a moment.
"Well, if there are no unforeseen circumstances, we should arrive tonight at ten." Damian scratched his chin a bit as he answered, smiling at his daughter who watched him.
"What do you mean? Unforeseen circumstances? What could happen?" Sylvie asked.
"Nothing, princess, there won't be any unforeseen circumstances, okay?" "Why is Erik on this train?" the duke thought. "Princess, try to sleep a little more, okay? Daddy has to be busy now."
"Okay, daddy, wake me up when we get there, okay?" Sylvie requested with her purple eyes.
"Of course, princess."
"You won't forget me here, will you?" Sylvie looked at her father fearfully.
"Never, princess. I would never forget you." Damian laughed a little while stroking her head until she fell asleep again.
Damian looked at Sylvie lovingly, who slept peacefully in his lap. With a gentle and careful movement, he slid his hands under her head, lifting her delicately. The girl murmured something unintelligible in her sleep but did not wake up. He placed her head on a soft pillow carefully placed beside her, covering her with one of his coats to ensure she didn't get cold.
Then, Damian slowly stood up, stretching his legs and back, relieving the tension of staying in the same position for so long. He looked towards the luggage compartment above the opposite seat, his eyes focused. With a firm movement, he opened the compartment and took out his suitcase, an elegant piece of dark leather.
Placing the not-too-large suitcase on a nearby table, Damian opened it with a soft click of the latch. Inside, there was meticulous organization: clothes neatly folded, some documents, and a small leather case. He rummaged through the contents until his hands found what he was looking for – a letter carefully folded inside a secret compartment.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
The letter was a transcription of a telegram:
"Imperial Telegram
From: His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Alaric Nyx Lancaster of the North IIITo: Your Grace, Duke Damian Callahad
Urgent Matter: Imperial Summon for National Security Affairs
With the authority and urgency befitting the Imperial Crown of Tsavarin, His Imperial Majesty, Alaric III, summons Your Grace, Duke Damian Callahad, to present himself at the Imperial Capital to discuss matters of utmost importance to national security.
It is imperative that Your Grace makes the journey with utmost haste. In recognition of the importance and sensitivity of the matters to be discussed, as well as Your Grace's distinguished position, the Crown has designated a lieutenant from the Imperial Special Forces to accompany part of the journey, ensuring Your Grace's safe and timely arrival.
This telegram is to be considered a direct mandate from the Emperor, requiring immediate attention and action. The Crown trusts in Your Grace's loyalty and promptness in responding to this call, recognizing the vital role you play within the nobility and in safeguarding the integrity and security of the Empire.
Signed[A red wax seal with the empire's emblem – A great kraken.]On behalf of His Majesty, Emperor Alaric III[11/01/1901]"
The soft light of the cabin illuminated the paper, creating shadows that danced over the words as the train continued its course, gently swaying. The duke then folded the letter and carefully placed it in his coat pocket.
Damian walked towards the door, and before he could do anything, the door opened.
A quick slide before Damian could touch it. Standing at the entrance, with an imposing posture and an ironic smile on his lips, was Baron Erik Volkov. Dressed in a thick woolen overcoat, barely concealing the tailored leather vest underneath, Erik exuded an air of disdainful confidence. His red hair, cut in a style that blended formality with a touch of rebellion, framed a face marked by a life of intrigue and cunning. His deep, penetrating blue eyes observed Damian with a mix of curiosity and caution.
Erik Volkov, known for his skill in navigating the turbulent waters of Tsaravin politics, had a reputation as a shrewd strategist and a natural survivor. He had served in the army alongside Damian, hence known as The Bear of Volkograd.
His distinctive mustache, meticulously maintained with the tips pointing upwards, was stroked by his fingers. He carried an elegant cane, more a symbol of status than a necessity, which rhythmically tapped the floor of the train with every step he took.
"Good morning, Erik. It's been a while," Damian said, opening a genuine smile.
"Damian, stop it." The bear then embraced him.
"As much as it's good to see you, friend, I still have to..." The bear hugged tighter, causing Lord Callahad to struggle to speak. "Discuss important matters with you."
"I know, your little guard called me here. I was coming anyway, but it would have been later."
"Just close the door and sit with me."
After both adjusted on the same bench, Damian took the letter from his pocket and signaled Erik not to say anything.
While Erik read the letter, Damian closed the window blinds and made sure no one could see inside the cabin.
"And then, what do you think?" the duke asked.
"It's about this that I came to talk, more nobles have been summoned."
"How many nobles? Who?" Damian asked, frowning.
"The great houses of Dracovic, Kolovsky, Vasilievich, and Alexandrov... That is, at least the ones I found out about. It seems like almost all the dukes were called, and some other nobles as well."
"Were you?" Damian asked with concern.
"No, I wish I had been called, then I could really find out what's going on." Erik then leaned back, adjusting himself more comfortably in his seat.
"Well, either way, this doesn't smell right to me. First, they call us urgently, then they set the emperor's dogs to watch us... This story can't end well."
"And it certainly won't end well." Erik observes Sylvie in her sleep. "She looks more like her mother than I remembered."
"Physically yes, but their minds are different." Damian observes his daughter with passion. "She's different from that animal." His face changes.
"Look, it's not my place to meddle, but what if she is?" Erik observes his friend.
"If she is what? What are you insinuating?" The duke was visibly pissed. Normally he would go straight for Erik, but because of their friendship, he decided to give him a few seconds of advantage.
"The blood is strong, do you think you can change her?"
"Yes, I will." Damian calms down. "She's my daughter. Mine."
Sylvie stirs a bit in her seat, she seems to be a little cold. Even though she's covered, her little feet are bare.
"Erik, if you don't mind, I'll ask to be alone with my daughter. She'll probably wake up soon." Damian checks his pocket watch and confirms: It's seven thirty in the morning.
"Alright. Take care, Damian, you can count on me for anything. I should also return to my wife and children."
"I wish all the best to Irina and you." Damian says, extending his hand to his friend.
"Likewise." The bear embraces him again.
The train continued to cut through the grey landscape until dusk. When the sun began to set, and the sky turned orange, the magnificent towers of Sarcóvia, the empire's capital, became visible on the horizon. Giants in all their magnitude, colorful and with exotic architecture. The towers that surrounded the palace, when viewed from above, formed the outline of a Kraken with their tops.
Sylvie had already woken up and was waiting with her father for their arrival at the capital. After almost two days of travel, the train finally stopped, and now they could disembark.
"Sylvie, wait here for a bit." Damian said, caressing her head and messing up the blonde hair of his princess.
The duke then proceeded to open the door.
"Call Ivan Zinoviev." He said to the first guard he saw.
"Yes, my lord!" The guard replied.
After a little more than a minute of waiting, during which Damian helped Sylvie get dressed, putting on coats, booties, and a hat, the duke's chief of security appears.
"Lord Callahad, did you call for me?" Ivan said with hardness and respect, closing the door behind him.
"Yes, I want you to accompany us in the car towards the hotel, along with the lieutenant. I don't trust him."
"Yes, my lord, I won't take my eyes off him."
"Perfect. Keep your weapon always ready to draw. I don't want to take any risks." Lord Callahad said.
Sylvie silently watched the conversation; she didn't seem to understand much.
"Call Mikhail, tell him I'm ready to disembark."
"Yes, my lord." Ivan proceeded to open the door and commanded the first guard he saw to call the special forces lieutenant.
After less than a minute, the door opens.
"Duke Damian Callahad, please, let me accompany you to our car." The lieutenant then makes way for Damian to walk side by side with him.
"Then let's go." The duke then picks up his daughter in his arms and holds her tightly.
Damian follows Mikhail with his daughter in his arms, accompanied by Ivan right behind them both. The corridors of the train are narrow but luxurious. There's room for two people to walk side by side, but with so many soldiers in his power accompanying the duke, there's not much that can be done.
They proceed to the station, where they enter a Falchion, a car symbol of world nobility. The vehicle was all black, but well designed both inside and out. Ornamented with the symbol of a falcon, its interior all lined with leather, and a powerful engine.
The lieutenant sat in front, with Ivan right next to him. Sylvie and Damian were in the back.
The trip through the city streets went smoothly. The little girl was amazed.
"Daddy! Daddy! I've never seen such tall buildings!" She said, watching the commercial buildings pass by. "Is that the tallest building in the world?" Sylvie asked innocently, pointing to an especially tall building.
"No, princess. The tallest building in the world is located in Thornisle." Damian caressed his daughter.
"Thornisle? Where is that?"
"A whole continent away from here, on an island."
Sylvie continued to make comments about the city throughout their trip. It had been a while since Damian had visited the capital, but the memory of it still remained clear. There was no sign of poverty, most likely because they were being guided by someone who lives in the city.
The wide streets allow many cars at the same time. The well-lit signs and streets give a sense of life to the city, even if not so colorful. Wealth spreads to every corner they pass, until they start to approach the Imperial Hotel.
A crowd of journalists was at the hotel entrance. Security from the place kept people away from the path, so clients could pass.
As soon as the car stopped, Ivan jumps out along with Mikhail, and before they could open the back doors, Damian covers his daughter with his coat, carrying her in his arms.
"Close your eyes, my princess, pretend you're sleeping, okay?" Damian whispers, caressing her hair.
"Yes, daddy." Sylvie gives him a kiss on the cheek.
The door opens. The duke jumps out with Sylvie, accompanied by two security guards. The journalists start shouting. The constant flashes illuminate the scene more than the posts themselves.
"Duke Damian, a moment please!" Exclaims one of the journalists "What brings someone as illustrious as you to the capital?"
"Lord Callahad! Is it true what they say about your duchy? Has food production fallen?"
As fast as they were, and as quickly as they managed to enter the luxurious and expansive interior of the hotel, many questions could be asked and shouted by the desperate journalists wanting to know what the nobility does coming to the capital.
"Duke Damian Callahad, come, your room is ready." Mikhail says, handing the luggage to the hotel employees so they carry it to the room.
"Then let's go, all I need now is a bed." Damian is exhausted from so many hours on the train.
"Surely, I'll leave you in your room and after that, I'll stop accompanying you."
Everyone enters one of the hotel's elevators and heads to the twentieth floor, the top of the hotel, along with the employees. The place leads only to the entrance of a single room, but upon opening the door, this room reveals itself to be much larger than imagined. It's not just a room, but an entire two-story apartment.
The interior is very well made and exudes a lot of luxury and comfort. The room is warm, but it's fresh. It's large, but it's cozy. Well lit with everything ready for a perfect night.
"And here, gentlemen, I bid you farewell." Mikhail says, who quickly enters the elevator, presses the button, and watches Damian as the door closes, taking the hotel employees with him.
"Ivan, I want six soldiers in here with me every day, and twenty more in the hotel. Leave the rest in the vicinity."
"Yes, my lord. It's done."
Damian heads to his room. Large, with a king-sized bed and a lot of luxury. A mirror, an adorned closet, a view of the city from the twentieth floor. The duke then lays his daughter on the bed, who really fell asleep in her father's arms. He removes all her clothes, leaving her just in her dress and locking the door.
Lord Callahad then opens the windows, removes most of his clothes, leaving only a light silk shirt and underwear. A father then lies down on the bed next to his daughter.