The Heir proved himself a consummate actor - not even a flicker of a smile crossed his face. Lifting his head, the most powerful shapeshifter in all of Novilter watched the clouds drift across the sky for several moments like any ordinary spectator. Then, he lowered his gaze and began to speak. His tone was such that, had I closed my eyes, I could easily have imagined I was not listening to Lair Gluathon, but his younger sibling.

"The morning after the first Breakthrough, which took place on the southern outskirts of Wilflaes, I was sitting at this very table," he said, nodding towards the library. "I was sifting through historical texts, trying to find something, anything, that resembled what we were facing. At the time, we didn't know we were dealing with something entirely new. But by then, we had already heard about this newfound power that had entered our world... Before that monumental Breakthrough in the capital, a series of similar cataclysms had already swept through many countries. And we'd heard about the emergence of the Break Knights," the Heir turned to me, folding his hands. "We heard, but we hadn't yet seen or made contact," he clarified. "I was about to get up from my chair to fetch another book, and when I turned back, there was a young man in a theatrical mask sitting in my place. A young man who had managed to bypass all our defenses without triggering a single one."

By now, much had already become clear to me, but it would have been impolite to interrupt his narrative, so I carried on listening.

"I won't lie - I initiated the combat transformation. But the guy simply vanished. One moment he was there, the next he was a few meters behind me. I lunged at what I initially thought was a uniquely skilled assassin five times - and missed each time. And then, when I fully grasped my own powerlessness," no matter how skilled a performer the shapeshifter was, I noticed him grit his teeth at this recollection, "the young man removed his mask. I recognized him - he had served as a page at our country estate for a couple of years. He hailed from a family that had faithfully served Alihark's Dogs, one of our most loyal clans, for a century and a half. We spoke with him for over an hour. Can you guess what he proposed?"

"I can now," I answered. The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.

"Exactly," the Heir nodded. "The young man was incredibly astute for his age. Just a few hours after initiation and becoming a Break Knight, he correctly surmised that a new power had entered the world. A power that could potentially challenge the current authority. And after his demonstration, it was also clear to me that his words were not just hollow bluster." The Heir fell silent, prompting me to pick up the conversation.

"Given your loyalty to you and perhaps even viewing you as his idol..." Lair Gluathon gave a curt nod at my suggestion. "The young man has proposed a sly plan. He will publicly present himself as a rebel against the authorities and rally like-minded Knights around him. That would allow him, and by extension you, to control the unpredictable and, if necessary, steer these people in the right direction. That's why their site is operational, not because it's supported by some incredibly skilled hackers as they've been led to believe, but because your security is overseeing it. So, under the current circumstances, the 'Masks of Novilter' pose no threat to you."

"That's correct." The Heir silently applauded me.

"If you truly care about Crixus," I paused briefly, waiting for the duke's eldest son to fully face me, then continued, "Then you've already suggested that Mersk get in touch with him and 'join forces' in opposing the House on the Hill, right?"

The powerful shapeshifter, who had been calmly observing me, froze like a statue at my words. His jaw tightened, and a spark ignited in his eyes. He remained silent for almost a minute. Then, after taking a moment to compose himself, he replied:

"No... Now that you've mentioned it... This course of action does seem the most straightforward and logical, but it hadn't crossed my mind."

I foresee some heads rolling in the raig analytics department.

"Thank you for your advice." The Heir mustered the strength to thank me. "We'll consider this option."

"As for electing Crixus as the head of the BKDW," I decided to address the question he had asked a while ago. "I admit, this is largely my mistake."

"Really?"

"But don't worry too much - my influence with the Knights of Wilflaes is enough to neutralize the threat you perceive in Crixus."

"I'm glad you made your stance clear," was all the Heir allowed himself to sigh in relief.

Of course, it won't be a walk in the park, and it might require considerable effort, but we can't afford a two-front war at the moment. One way or another, I'll have to persuade Crixus to postpone his revolution until the End of the World matter is resolved. So my words to the duke's eldest son were more than just formalities.

"Crixus isn't your only concern." I gently tried to take control of the conversation.

"Indeed." He answered calmly. "But an unexpected problem from an unexpected source can throw anyone off balance. As you probably guessed, the issue of Breakthroughs is indeed one of the most critical... But it's far from being the only one I have to juggle in my position."

I refrained from explaining to him that without addressing the "Breakthrough issue" and, as a consequence, the looming End of the World, everything else loses its significance. I held my tongue, recalling the Creator's warning just in time. Frankly, I gleaned more from this conversation than I had anticipated, and could have smoothly wrapped it up there. My paranoia whispered to me that each word, each gesture of mine, would be dissected and slotted into a psych-profile later. And every minute of this dialogue fed the Heir's analysts with more and more information. However, a hasty escape would be inappropriate.

"The book you were reading," I casually brought up. "Is it worth buying?"

"I intended to prohibit the sale of this volume within the territory of Novilter," Lair Gluathon replied, his hands tightening again around the bronze. "But it's already been released in Europe, and imposing a ban here would only draw unwanted attention."

"Does the text pose a threat?"

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"On the surface…" He gave a melancholic smile. "Everything appears decorous, and it doesn't seem to violate anything... But the atmosphere that the book evokes... And trust me - it does evoke a certain mood. That's where the problem lies."

"Then it's definitely worth a read."

"If you have an interest in medieval history," the Heir attempted to dampen my enthusiasm, realizing that he had inadvertently promoted the book.

"My interest is contingent on the historical figure."

"The narrative revolves around Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar," Lair Gluathon responded, acknowledging that I would read it regardless. It was fortunate that I was wearing Metatron; otherwise, I would have struggled to maintain a poker face after hearing this.

"El Cid?" I prolonged the words as if uncertain.

"Yes. You are well-versed. That name means little to most..."

"The Last King of Men," I interjected.

"Hmm... So, there's no need for me to expound on my annoyance with this book," the Heir quickly rebounded. "As if our current predicaments weren't enough, we now have to consider what we thought had been long forgotten... Attempts at a grassroots revolution. As you realize, these are entirely futile efforts."

"Half a year ago, they would have been," I pressed on.

Now I understood why the authorities were so abruptly and intensely disturbed about Crixus. So much so that the Heir personally requested to meet with me.

"Possibly," Lair Gluathon responded evasively.

I got fed up. It was time to engage in grown-up games, not this.

"You proposed an alliance."

"Yes."

"But a true alliance can only exist between equals."

From the way the Heir's gaze hardened, it was evident he had correctly interpreted my implications.

"You're right."

"The world is changing," I concluded.

"The world is changing," the de facto ruler of the world's third most powerful country concurred.

I was regarded as an equal. Utterly equal, without any reservations or hidden agendas. It seemed like I'd just gained a genuine ally in the matter of the Treaty. Even though this ally was still unaware that his perceived power, which he believed to be his by birthright, was now subject to reconsideration.

Our palms met, solidifying the spoken words.

"Returning to the topic of Crixus," the Heir started as we parted hands. "You understand that the Corsican, after reading this book, will possess a historical symbol."

Ah, intriguing! He referred to Crixus as the "Corsican," just like I did. Was this purely coincidental, or might his informant be among those I trust closely? While we may have formed an alliance, this leak needed to be plugged immediately. Yet another problem to deal with.

"I understand. But that doesn't alter what I stated. I can handle Crixus," I asserted, visualising a clear plan to potentially revise the BKDW's charter via a general vote and strip him off any real power. "Perhaps his initiative could end up benefiting us. He'll expose all those skeptical about our alliance. It'll be less work for us once we know who exactly needs convincing."

I realized I was getting carried away and needed to wrap up our conversation. The suspicion that our entire dialogue was being recorded, possibly from multiple cameras, was increasing.

"I would offer you a drink, but…" the Heir gestured towards my helmet.

"That's out of the question," I immediately interjected.

"I see no issue with such established boundaries," Lair Gluathon withdrew swiftly, clearly not wanting to end our conversation on a harsh note.

"I appreciate it," I inclined my head to signify a smile behind the helmet.

"We're both busy individuals, and it would be preferable if there were as few ambiguities between us as possible," he continued. I didn't like where this was going. "This will save time for both of us."

"Looking at it from that perspective, I agree," I responded, offering a non-committal remark.

"An alliance is a relationship of equals. You said it yourself," the Heir bowed his head in anticipation.

Damn! He was playing hardball. I could pretend I didn't understand, but that would only lead to more significant problems in the long run. Debts needed to be settled promptly - the Heir was right about that.

"You disclosed your secret to me by telling me about Mersk," I sighed heavily, barely feigning. "What secret do you wish to know from me?"

"Maestro is a youth in the material world, yet a seasoned man in the Break. A previously considered impossible discrepancy between body and spirit. Who are you?"

I almost let out a sigh of relief. I could easily answer such a question.

"A reincarnate."

I was two hundred percent certain that the House on the Hill's analysts, while studying me, considered this scenario as one of the main possibilities. Because it was the most logical. In essence, I hadn't revealed anything new to the Heir. I'd merely narrowed down the field for analysis.

"A reincarnate..." Lair Gluathon echoed my words.

"I'm a complete reincarnation," I added, instantly regretting it.

In this world, most reincarnates didn't fully remember their past lives. Just fragments, details, disjointed parts like a broken puzzle. Those who retained their entire past lives were even rarer, and these instances were called complete reincarnations.

"A comprehensive answer," the Heir formally returned, bowing slightly as a sign of respect, reinforcing his consideration of me as an equal.

He appeared about to say more, but a chirping sound came from his back pocket. It was a cell phone, one that looked as if it belonged to a generation four times removed from the current. After a quick glance at the small screen, the Heir's face twisted into a grimace.

"I beg your pardon, urgent business," he said apologetically.

"Understood."

Actually, I didn't believe for a second that the timing of this call was coincidental. I was certain that he had given instructions not to be disturbed before our conversation. This call was simply a convenient excuse to end the conversation, likely triggered by a signal to the observer that escaped my attention.

"If there's a need for another meeting, I'll pass along the invitation through Rock," Lair Gluathon clarified. "You can also arrange a meeting through him."

"Agreed."

"And now, I'll return your own words to you, sincerely: it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

We shook hands once more, taking a step back from each other. I immediately slid into the Break, not daring to stick around to see what would happen next. Who knew if there was another 'raig detector' artifact lurking around? If there was, lingering in invisibility would shatter the fragile trust we'd just established.

I felt a familiar, barely noticeable resistance as I leapt off the balcony. The Small Palace was undoubtedly surrounded by an additional perimeter of an artifact alarm system. This confirmed that my decision to immediately leave via the balcony was the right one.

There was plenty of time left before my nightly training session, so I decided to take a walk or rather, slowly make my way to one of the hideouts to check my phone. I wanted to use this time to reflect on and dissect my conversation with the Heir.

However, instead of analyzing the meeting, I found myself wondering why they hadn't thought to have Mersk play his part in front of Crixus as well. As I neared the coast, it dawned on me that the secret of Mersk's role was too significant for even the analysts to know. Likely, only the Heir himself and perhaps Mr. Rock, given his position as the curator of the Break Knights, knew the true motivations of the "Masks of Novilter" leader. And this pair was swamped with work, so they could easily have overlooked such a move. Therefore, it was probable that I had criticized the analysts unfairly.

Having reached my hideout, I decided to check for messages. I found four awaiting me: from Maya, the twins, Halley, and Crixus respectively. It was a relief to see that they all conveyed the same information. The BKDW building's security had stumbled upon something. Consequently, tonight's training session had been called off as Maya and Crixus were needed to reconfigure the system's authorization - a process that would likely last till morning.

In hindsight, it was probably for the best as I doubted my ability to lead a full training session today. However, there was something I could accomplish today. After mulling over the situation again, I sent out a message to two recipients, asking them to meet me today. As I awaited their confirmation, I took a deep breath. It was time to clean up the mess I had made.