How could this be?

I had assumed that Zanh Kiem's eye movements were signaling for me to attack the legate immediately, as the Dark One's hands holding the revolvers were evidently growing weary. I was confident that the Maker had anticipated such a sequence of events, that he would leverage his adept inquisitor and sensum abilities to evade the bullets. But instead, Zanh Kiem barely had time to react when the shots were fired. My shift into the Break seemed to take him by surprise, even more so than it did de Diaz. But how could this be? He had clearly indicated his readiness for such an eventuality! How else could I have interpreted his signals?! And now, my friend lay on the pebbly shore of the lake, a pool of blood spreading around his head.

How could this be?!

Thankfully, I was in the Break, a realm that dulls sensations and emotions. If I were in reality, I probably would have screamed aloud. Instead of screaming, I tightened my fists and dropped to my knees. As I lowered myself, I noticed that, unlike the legate's corpse, Zanh Kiem's body still emanated an aura. I looked closer - yes, it was there, I wasn't imagining it! And if that was the case, then my friend was still alive!

Exiting the Break in an instant, I crouched beside the Abbot of the Abode of Knowledge. Indeed, he was alive and breathing, and the bloody patch under his head was caused by a rather intimidating, but harmless wound. Evidently, Zanh Kiem had managed to evade one of the legate's shots, and the second had grazed him.

Having confirmed that Abel de Diaz was lifeless, I lifted my friend and carried him from the shoreline to a sun lounger, as lying in the damp would certainly do him no good. I was certain there was a first aid kit with all the necessary supplies somewhere in the villa, but since I didn't know where to look for it, I resorted to bandaging the Maker's wound with my own T-shirt. Of course, it was a bit of a mess, but it would have to do for now.

Just as I finished dressing the wound and was about to search for the first aid kit, Zanh Kiem opened his eyes. His gaze, initially foggy, quickly regained its usual clarity. Raising his head, Zanh Kiem winced, gingerly touched the makeshift bandage, and glared at me angrily, before sharply exhaling:

"What the hell did you do?!"

"What do you mean?" I was puzzled. "You clearly signaled for me to attack, and that you were ready for it!"

"Me?!!" The Maker was taken aback.

"Yes, you! You clearly hinted with your eyes..."

"Paya-Paya![1]" The sensum exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "I didn't mean that!"

The outburst must have jostled the bandage, and he fell silent, grimacing in pain.

"What do you mean?!" I was at a loss. "Then what were you signaling about? Besides, as it turns out, you were ready for my attack and managed to dodge!"

"Dodge? Me?!!" Zanh Kiem forced out through gritted teeth. "Not at all! I barely managed to twitch!"

"But... You're alive..."

"I don't understand it myself, but it seems the legate initially did not plan to kill me or had a change of heart at the last second. And this wound is just..." He touched his head. "Because I twitched. If I'd stood still, he wouldn't have hit me."

"I'm not following."

"I've told you countless times: don't try to comprehend someone as aged as the legate! He could have a thousand motives that neither you nor I can fathom due to our disparity in age and experience."

"But then, what were you signaling to me?" I repeated my question.

"What do you mean 'what'?" The Maker appeared surprised. "It's obvious... I was suggesting you should agree with him!"

"Agree?!" My surprise knew no bounds.

"Absolutely!" Grimacing in pain, Zanh Kiem propped himself up on the bed. "Because, regardless of his, let's say, rather aggressive persuasion technique, the legate was correct. You need to address the Treaty. And the sooner, the better. The World is already trembling, and resolving the Treaty will pacify the subtle energies, buying us a little more time to locate the Door!"

"So, you're in agreement with him, and we should breach the Treaty?"

"Yes, but not because I'm so 'fair' and champion universal equality."

"Go on."

The Maker poured himself some cooled tea, took a long sip, and promptly spat out the beverage.

"It's revolting when cold," he declared. "You see... Shapeshifters aren't extraterrestrial beings. They're born as ordinary humans, equal to all. Their abilities are a legacy from humanity's past, when each tribe invented an animal ancestor for itself and earnestly believed in it. And the Treaty disrupts this inherent equality. The legate was spot on when he likened the existence of the Treaty to a spring that's been compressed tightly for centuries. Now this 'spring' is quivering and vibrating, causing even the 'world's foundation' to shake. We need to either reinforce it by extending the Treaty or eliminate it by breaking it. And from the perspective of the World, the latter is better. However, the former is still vastly superior to the current state of uncertainty."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" I asked, a hint of irritation in my voice.

"Because it only dawned on me when the cold barrels of the revolvers touched the back of my head," the Maker replied, shrugging subtly. "I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you."

"You should have been more transparent then!"

"How could I? I feared any word or careless gesture from me would trigger him to shoot! I was blinking at you, hoping you'd agree with him! But you didn't catch on!"

"So, I killed the legate for nothing..." I muttered, massaging my temples as a sudden headache hit me.

"For nothing?" Zanh Kiem looked surprised. "Not at all! He'd lost his mind! An uncontrolled Dark One with such power is a target for immediate elimination. This is outlined in the Inquisition's charter, and I'm certain it's also in the charter of his own Ordo. You didn't commit murder; you merely executed the sentence that Abel de Diaz had passed on himself by threatening me with his revolvers and trying to manipulate the owner of Metatron." He glanced towards the beach where the deceased inquisitor lay. "Even the strongest can break under the strain of professional deformation."

"Professional deformation?" I was confused.

"Yes, exactly that."

"Clarify."

"His Ordo, do you know what they did?"

"He mentioned it once. His Ordo was responsible for eliminating audacious shapeshifters, regardless of their status, influence, or position. The inquisitors of the Ordo Campeadorus could even eliminate a king, although they would need the Holy See's sanction, but it was within their power."

"Correct, for the most part and a bit superficial, but correct," Zanh Kiem nodded in approval. "And can you imagine what Abel de Diaz was constantly exposed to? His Ordo wasn't called for trivial matters. The Inquisition was only summoned when something extraordinary and terrifying occurred, something that would freeze the blood of even the sturdiest. For over two centuries, he witnessed horrors we couldn't even dream of in our worst nightmares. And the perpetrators of these horrors were..."

"Shapeshifters."

"Exactly, because when others committed such acts, different Ordos were summoned, not his."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I see," I nodded at my friend.

"Do you, really?" He sounded skeptical.

"It's like a story I read on the web."

"Which one?"

"There was a forum where people discussed the equipment purchases of a certain company. One particular post stood out. It read something like, 'Never buy equipment from this company! Never! It keeps breaking down! Every day I see dozens, sometimes even hundreds, of broken products from this company! And I'm not some anonymous person; I work in the service center of this company!'"

"Yes, the comparison seems apt. Just as in your analogy, a person may see a single faulty product as a representation of the whole company, ignoring the fact that even if hundreds of the products break down daily, millions continue to function flawlessly. Similarly, the legate has often been exposed to the horrors perpetrated by shapeshifters. He's been confronting these atrocities for over two centuries," the Maker lifted his gaze to meet mine. "Your analogy about people and nails could aptly describe him... If I were in his shoes, I couldn't have endured so much; my psyche would have fractured much earlier. After just fifteen years in the Hand, I'd seen enough to last a lifetime! I gratefully accepted my current role as curator of the Break Knights. But he... He held on for centuries."

"Do you think that's why he was such a vehement opponent of the Treaty?" I asked. "Is that why he resorted to direct threats against 'his king'?"

"Yes," the Maker nodded in response to my question.

"We should remove the body from the water; it isn't right to leave it there," I said, rising to my feet.

"Yes, drag it over to those bushes," the sensum directed, indicating a spot with his hand. "But don't touch his revolvers - the aura radiating from the weapons suggests they're coated in some sort of alchemical compound. I doubt the legate smeared his weapons with anything harmless."

"A contact poison with genetic programming?" I suggested, implying that the poison likely didn't harm the legate himself but would affect a stranger who dared to handle his weapon.

"What?!" The Maker seemed taken aback at first, then, rubbing his forehead, he replied, "Yes, something like that... But let's avoid such complex terms today; I'm still reeling from shell shock."

I moved to lift Abel de Diaz's body by the armpits, carefully dragging it to the spot the sensum had pointed out. The face of the legate I had killed bore no expression of fear or pain in death; instead, it was a frozen mask of tranquility. Perhaps it was because, despite his death, he had achieved his goal. He did - because I would, as he wished, resolve the issue of the Treaty before I entered the Door, and that was exactly what he wanted. Although I think Abel's resort to such drastic measures was unnecessary, he might have had his own reasons for doing so.

After moving the body near the green hedge, out of view from the lake, I returned to the sun lounger. Despite having done barely anything, I was so exhausted, sweat formed on my temples.

"Don't worry," the Maker said, noticing my fatigue. "You'll feel tired for another day or two from seemingly insignificant efforts."

"I'll manage," I replied, grimacing.

"Lie down for a while; I need to leave."

With that, Zanh Kiem rose to his feet, swaying slightly and wincing in pain.

"You should lie down too."

"I need to check on the gatekeeper and make a call," he dismissed my concern, beginning a slow ascent up the stone stairs.

"Then, check on Ketsu as well," I told the departing sensum.

"What will happen to him? After what you put him through, he'll sleep for at least a day."

"Still, check on him."

"Alright, I will," the sensum gave in to my insistence.

Alone, I sank into contemplation – a bleak one. Doubt gnawed at me: had I acted too rashly, delivering a lethal blow so quickly? Was there another solution? Knowing Abel didn't plan on killing Zanh Kiem, it seemed everything could have been resolved differently. But time cannot be rewound, and what's done is done.

The legate led such a long, eventful life that it's hard for me to fathom. As a Dark adept, he was inherently selfish, yet he lived by his code and even sacrificed his life for ideals far removed from selfish motives. Abel was undeniably peculiar but also powerful and immensely dangerous. Seeing his lifeless body, I realized: if he had truly fought back, fighting Annabelle would have felt like a walk in the park compared to facing the legate. And it's far from certain I would have emerged victorious, despite my raig powers.

"I think he knew he would likely die today," the Maker's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I hadn't noticed his return. The sensum walked past me, almost reaching the water, and squatted down.

"He chose this path, fully aware of where it would lead him," Zanh Kiem continued.

He wore rubber gloves. Carefully, as if handling explosives, he picked up the legate's revolvers and placed them in a dark, opaque bag. Then he approached Abel's body, examining it with care.

The Maker was absent for no more than ten minutes, but apparently, he managed to do everything he planned and even change clothes. He wore a new kasaya, darker than usual, and a black bandanna adorned with skulls replaced my makeshift bandage on his wound.

"That's not mine," Zanh Kiem chuckled, pointing to his headdress. "It was left by the previous owner of the villa, but it's convenient and hides the bandage on the wound."

"It suits you." My words were sincere. Surprisingly, the incongruity of a monk's attire and a bandanna somehow looked harmonious on Zanh Kiem.

"How are Ketsu and the gatekeeper?" I asked, looking to divert my thoughts.

"They're sleeping," the Maker replied tersely, his attention still on the legate.

"Did you manage to make a call?"

"I did," he nodded.

Noticing that my questions were distracting him, I fell silent. After about three minutes, Zanh Kiem finished his inspection and, with a sense of finality, flopped heavily onto the sunbed opposite. Pouring himself some juice, he took a sip, grimaced, and said:

"I have a favor to ask."

"I'm all ears."

"I'd rather not publicize the legate's death. The relations between the Inquisition and the Palms are strained. We're not enemies, and we share the same goals, but there's friction due to our differing methods... And having the head of an Ordo die in my villa..." He left the sentence hanging and simply spread his hands.

"Something like that can't be hidden for long," I shrugged.

"Until the new Creators reveal themselves, that'll be enough. After that, let Them handle it," the Maker looked me straight in the eye.

"Will there be any new Creators?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"They always appear," the sensum shrugged, then added with more conviction, "The Holy Sees never stay vacant for long."

"Do as you see fit. I have bigger problems to deal with... The End of Everything, the Door, the Treaty..."

"Fine," the sensum nodded. "We'll need to leave for the house in an hour." He glanced around the beach. "Everything here will be cleaned up. It's better for us not to run into those who'll be doing the work."

"No problem," I shrugged. I really didn't care much about who or how the eastern clerics were "cleaning up."

"By the way, speaking of the Treaty," I said, gathering my thoughts and deciding not to put off the topic any longer.

"I'm listening," Zanh Kiem replied, adjusting his bandanna as he sat down opposite me.

"I'm not happy with the constraints everyone is pushing on me," I frowned, voicing a long-held grievance. "I'm given two options: terminate the Treaty or extend it. Both options are almost equally unacceptable to me. I've been looking for a way out of this trap and haven't found one. Not until today. Not until Abel de Diaz said something..."

"Go on."

"The First Treaty was a result of the emergence of a new Power in the world, the so-called True Blood. Shapeshifters. This disrupted the usual and established state of affairs, necessitating the approval of new rules. These 'new rules' became the First Treaty. Is that right?"

"That's a simplified version, but yes, it's correct."

"Don't you think the current situation is similar?" I asked, attempting to confirm my assumptions.

"Raigs," he began, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture before continuing. "Break Knights, as the emergence of a new Power..." The Maker paused in thought, then clicked his tongue and concluded, "So, you want to establish a Second Treaty instead of breaking or extending the First one! Is that correct?"

"Yes! But there are difficulties," I admitted, barely resisting the urge to mimic my friend's favorite gesture and rub my nose. "As I understand it, representatives from all parties - in this case, three - are needed to establish a new Treaty."

"Naturally," the Maker responded with a nod. "But we have no issues with the representative of ordinary people. According to the First Treaty, the representative of human will is Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, whose reincarnation you are."

"Abel referred to me as the king of the raigs," I shared my idea. "And if that's true - if I could represent all the Break Knights..."

"No one can represent everyone," Zanh Kiem corrected me. "And ordinary kings and rulers aren't necessarily the spokespeople for the will of all their subjects. Yet that doesn't stop them from being kings and rulers. However, there is some truth in the legate's words. According to my information, you are indeed the most powerful Break Knight in the world."

"But is that enough for me to represent the raigs?"

"That's not for us to decide," the Maker shrugged. "The real question is whether the World will accept your role or not."

"And how can I find out? Will it or won't it?"

"I'm afraid you can't," Zanh Kiem grimaced. "If the Creators were alive, they could answer that question. If the World doesn't accept your right to speak for the raigs, the new Treaty simply won't be established."

"I'm willing to take the risk," I declared, gritting my teeth in response to his words. "But there's still the question of the third party. The shapeshifters... I can't even begin to imagine how to gather the most influential kings in one place and make them listen to me. I could possibly force them to listen, but gathering them, particularly in such a short amount of time before the impending End of Everything? That's the question of all questions..."

The Maker's response to my words caught me off guard. To my surprise, he burst out laughing, then winced in pain. As he adjusted his bandanna, he looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"Do you keep up with international politics at all?" he asked.

"Politics?" I responded, taken aback by his question. "I used to, but recently, if I've paid attention to politics at all, it's only been Novilter's local affairs."

"I see," he replied, a hint of teasing lurking in his gaze. "Tomorrow, there's a meeting of the G20 club. The so-called 'big twenty,' the most influential rulers on the planet. It was supposed to be in Canberra, but due to recent massive fires in Australia, they've changed the location. Can you guess where they moved it to?"

"To Wilflaes?" I blurted out, unable to hide my surprise.

"Do you still want to discuss the nature of coincidences?" The Maker's smile seemed somewhat mocking to me now.

[1] AN: "paya-paya" is an exclamation akin to "Oh my God!" in Burmese.