ConvertLair Gluathon drummed his fingers on the table, a sound that was becoming increasingly grating to the five curators standing rigidly before the large desk. The heir remained silent, the tension in the room reaching a critical point.

Without dropping his gaze, the owner of the office continued his drumming until even the most stoic of the curators had visibly paled. It was only after observing this that the de facto ruler of Novilter began to speak.

"Twenty hours have passed since the attack. Twenty goddamn hours! One thousand two hundred infernal minutes. Seventy-two thousand endless seconds. For Lord's sake, don't tell me there's still no good news!"

They were the best of the best, trained, fearless, standing before him trembling with anxiety. None of them were cowards, but facing danger and even death was a very different prospect from provoking their Leader's wrath. This was a difference only comprehensible to shapeshifters.

The heir raised demonstratively a finger above the table. But before another demanding knock could echo in the room, one of those standing took a step forward. He was a man of about thirty, short and slender, with intelligent eyes and the face of a third-generation poet. His name was Kotr, and his Beast was a variation of a squirrel.

"Vienna..." the curator of external relations ventured.

"Vienna - what?" the heir growled.

"According to unconfirmed information, Austria had a vested interest in stalling the BKDW project," Kotr reported calmly. "They had planned to launch a similar initiative, and their king, who prefers the title of emperor, was incensed by Novilter's claims to leadership in this area."

"Go on." The ruler of Wilflaes's voice was dry and devoid of emotion.

"I've received information that the ruling circles of Vienna were seeking contact with Eshin."

"I see..." The threat in the heir's simple response was unmistakable.

"Two of my informants, who are unaware of each other, relayed this information."

"How much can we trust them?"

"Unfortunately, not much," the curator of external relations answered honestly. "They're miserable wretches, who would sell out their own clan for a pittance. But! Even they were appalled by Eshin's actions. Europe fears Breakthroughs much more than we do - the incident in Bremen is hard to forget. Many there practically worship the Break Knights."

"Habsburgs..." Lair Gluathon hissed through his teeth. "Ferrets... Self-proclaimed emperors... I don't believe Austria is prepared to start a war with Novilter: they're too weak now. But something like this... it suits their style - to have others pull the chestnuts out of the fire for them, to pay with money where others pay with blood... It's their modus operandi. Ferrets..." He barely restrained himself from spitting on the clean floor. "Kotr, don't file any documents regarding this matter. Don't involve any analysts. Report only to me, verbally."

"Understood!"

"I don't believe that this wretched bloodline could take such a risk, I just don't, but continue to investigate. Dig deeper than you ever have!"

"Yes, sir!"

The foreign relations curator stepped back, and the largest of the figures immediately stepped forward. This was Ohrin, who was in charge of the capital's internal services.

"The city is under control. There have been incidents, and casualties too, but everything has been below even our most conservative estimates."

"How many?"

"One hundred and forty-three people and seven shapeshifters. That's the count for the entire city."

"That's surprisingly few." The heir wasn't doubting his subordinate's words, but he was genuinely taken aback.

"We are doing our utmost!"

"What are the financial losses?"

"They are even lower than those sustained in the winter hurricane. The report is in your folder."

"I'll review it later."

Ohrin stepped back, and the curator of the capital's criminal underworld stepped forward.

"I don't have good news," admitted Alir, bowing his head. "It's quiet now, very quiet. But there's a power shift brewing. There's going to be a bloodbath. A war on our streets. Not today, not tomorrow, but it's coming. This is a certainty, regardless of whether the terrorist attack investigation is successful. The rats will lose Novilter. They have many clans and they are numerous, but too many have aligned against them."

"When?"

"I cannot say."

"I'm not pleased with you." These simple words caused the curator of the criminal world to shrink back, becoming somewhat smaller and more hunched.

"I am guilty..."

"You are," the heir confirmed, dismissing Alir with a wave of his hand.

Tunk stepped forward.

"The search at the third waste processing plant turned up nothing. I have the forensics report." A thick folder landed on the heir's table. "A lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing substantial or helpful. We identified workers in league with criminals, but no more. This lead is a dead end."

"What about the West?"

"The Holy See confirmed that only Abel de Diaz is handling this case. According to their representative: 'if he fails, then others are even more likely to fail.'"

"So that's the worth of their promise to help..." The grinding of the heir's teeth was audible even through the heavy door.

"Not exactly, my lord," Tunk countered. "Abel de Diaz is also known as the Steel Eradicator..."

"But the Eradicator died a hundred and fifty years ago!" Lair Gluathon erupted.

"No, they assured me it is true. Abel is a high-rank Dark Adept, and they have no trouble extending their lives... provided there are enough sacrifices, of course... The Holy See sent the best of their 'people.'"

"He was here before the terrorist attack," the heir murmured thoughtfully. "He visited me. He said he was watching me. BEFORE THE ATTACK! A 200-year-old Dark Adept, the Beast Reaper himself, paid me a visit! A figure from the horror stories used to scare young shapeshifters! The most efficient assassin in the service of the Inquisition in nearly two centuries! What kind of mess have we landed in?! Why are you silent? Don't you know? I don't either... Where is he now?"

"On the way to Rome."

"By plane?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain he's on that plane at this moment?" The heir's voice was commanding.

"Three of my men on board have confirmed his presence," the cleric curator responded, clearly pleased with his foresight.

"That doesn't prove anything! Given his capabilities!"

"There's nothing more I can do," Tunk responded calmly to the ruler of Novilter's outburst of aggression.

"You're right," the heir agreed, correctly interpreting his subordinate's words. "Let's put the Eradicator's issue aside for now. Please continue. And give me some good news!"

"I have some," Tunk declared, bowing to hide a triumphant smile. "Eshin made a mistake. Apparently, they didn't anticipate the arrival of the martial monastery group so soon, and certainly didn't foresee that the murder site of Hyungang Tu Chong would be discovered that quickly. It's likely that some evidence remained at the murder scene, and Eshin decided to clear the crime scene drastically..."

"Yes, yes, I know, a plane, a suicidal pilot at the controls. You reported it earlier. No need for preliminaries."

"Thanks to the swift actions of the internal intelligence and special forces, the assistance of Zanh Kiem, who seemed to have gone off the chain, and the abilities of Lady Maya, we managed to track down the group responsible for hijacking the plane. In a brief encounter, almost the entire group was eliminated." After a pause, the cleric curator continued, "Almost, but not all. Their leader was captured alive. The Maker has confirmed that he belongs to Eshin! Not to mercenaries, not to allied clans, but to the primary branch of Eshin!"

"You captured a living rat from the Eshin clan?" There was barely concealed disbelief in Lair Gluathon's voice.

"He had a vial of poison sewn into his collar, but he hesitated a moment before deciding to take his own life. That's when Maya Grimm seized her opportunity. Unfortunately, my subordinates were a bit overzealous: the rat lost his arm and half his teeth, and is now in a medically induced coma. But he's alive. He'll talk to us!"

"Give him to my people," Alir, the crime curator, stepped forward. "I will make sure he talks!"

"Stand down!" the heir roared. "This is Tunk's catch. He alone gets to decide!"

"It's mine and Rock's. We worked together on this operation."

"Fine. Do what you must with this rat, but I need information. As for how you extract it and the methods you employ - I don't care. This is indeed excellent news... Where is the Third Palm now?"

"Zanh Kiem is in the Abode of Knowledge, tending to his Seer; Lao and Bao are also there. Their investigator Nein, however, is working with my team. His abilities are invaluable. A true professional! With his help, we've found an additional lead to investigate. Eshin was in a hurry to hijack the plane and deliver the explosives, and we managed to snag some rat tails before they could sever them."

"What are our losses during the capture of Eshin's group?"

"None!"

"How is that possible?!" Lair Gluathon didn't even attempt to conceal his astonishment.

"Maya Grimm..." The cleric curator mentioned a single name as if it explained everything.

"Keep up the good work. I am pleased with you."

Stepping back, Tunk cast a triumphant glance at Alir, who stood slightly hunched.

"Rock," the heir turned his gaze to the curator of the raigs. "How did your meeting with the Knights go?"

"Regrettably, sire, it did not go as well as we would have hoped."

"Don't beat around the bush. Speak plainly!"

"They refused to engage in conversation."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"What?!"

"To be precise, they requested that the meeting and any serious discussions be postponed. I did not insist and agreed."

"Your decision not to push was correct. I support it," stated the effective head of Novilter, scratching his chin. "Maya has been found, and, from what I gather, she is completely on our side now, given her assistance in capturing the rats."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Rock shook his head sadly. "The loss of her friends and mentor has significantly changed the girl. She no longer trusts me as she once did."

"We knew it would come to this," the heir nodded. "After we messed up so badly, it would be surprising if her attitude didn't change. Answer me directly: will BKDW hold together?"

"Contrary to all the predictions that suggested the organization would either collapse or retreat into obscurity, the answer is most likely yes. Some unforeseen factor has intervened, reshuffling the entire deck. The Knights are resolved to keep their unity, but they appear keen to renegotiate their agreement with the Castle."

"An unforeseen factor..." The heir smirked at these words. "I detest vague phrasing. But we'll discuss Maestro later. First, Crixus. Is he really a weasel?"

"Yes! Up until he turned sixteen, he was considered the heir to the Corsican branch. But he did not awaken the Beast and was stripped of his status. He ran away from home. However, they didn't search for him earnestly - it was merely for show. According to our intel, he found work as a cabin boy on a cargo ship and left Corsica, after which he spent a considerable time as a civilian sailor on various vessels. At present, he is a third-level raig. He belongs to the group of the strongest Knights on the planet, having been chosen by the Break to fend off the Desert Breakthrough. Exceptionally well-educated, according to the finest clan methods of the old world. Intelligent, ambitious, eloquent, charismatic. According to the information that reached me, he is a vehement opponent of the cooperation between Knights and Shapeshifters, as he genuinely despises the latter."

"Complex of the rejected child," without realizing it, Lair Glyton mimicked Zanh Kiem's gesture, rubbing his temples. "But despite his hatred towards us, he became an open raig and accepted Novilter citizenship."

"Yes, I've received his paperwork. It's already signed."

"How problematic is he?"

"I've assigned him an orange code."

"Orange? Who gets the red code then? Ah... never mind, don't answer. I know your answer," the heir felt a twinge in his temples once more. "Continue."

"Despite all that's been said, Crixus is susceptible to indirect manipulation. He's well-educated but young, which is a significant disadvantage in politics and intrigue. He's certainly dangerous, but it's possible to work with him."

"You still want to thrust him into the role of BKDW leader."

"Since Maya absolutely and unequivocally refused this role, then yes. The leader of BKDW should be an open Break Knight, and the pool of options is extremely limited. In addition, his public persona has made him an idol. Crixus' popularity currently surpasses even that of Maya Grimm. The difficulty lies in his recent arrival in the city; he hasn't yet gained enough authority among the local raigs."

"Having a BKDW leader who despises us, isn't that a bit risky?"

"Hatred is hatred, but he's intelligent and understands the significance and advantages of cooperation. Plus, it's always easier to play with open cards when your opponent is less adept at the game. Moreover, he's hungry for revenge against Eshin for the death of 'his own,' and without us, that would be nearly impossible."

"Alright, continue in this direction. You've convinced me. Anything else?"

"The main difficulty doesn't lie with him. I believe the issue of who will be the official leader of the organization is less crucial for us. And therein lies the main problem."

"It doesn't matter who sits on the throne, as long as they merely voice another's orders or act as their instrument," the heir nodded at these words before changing the subject. "To what extent can the other raigs play their own game?"

"Each one of them is capable, in one way or another. As before, nothing has changed in that regard. But everyone needs resources: money, information, cover, support. Also, the Knights are young and crave recognition. All of this we can and do provide."

"We promised them protection, and we broke our word. My word!" Lair Gluathon rose from his chair. "I now have a blood debt. We all do. The fact that BKDW still stands has nothing to do with our efforts. These boys and girls kept themselves afloat. I repeat - they managed it on their own!"

With a swift movement, the heir vaulted over the massive table and towered over the curator of the raigs.

"I'll explain..." His words were laced with a bestial roar. "If BKDW falls, and if Kotr's information about the Habsburgs' funds is confirmed, I'll be forced to go to war with Austria. Forced! And Paris will defend Vienna. Madrid will defend Paris. Lisbon will defend Madrid. And so on. Nearly all of Europe will turn against us, along with Japan, Taiwan, Brazil, and numerous smaller states."

"But we have many allies too!" The curator of external relations stepped forward. "The Russian principalities, Scandinavian jarls, Istanbul, and Carthage. The Western clerics won't support Europe, and the Eastern monasteries will be on our side! After the monasteries, the Chinese Kingdoms and their allies will join us!"

"Yes. They will back us. But do you all grasp what that means?! It will be a global bloodbath! The first truly all-out war." Having ceased to growl, the heir stepped back and sat down on the edge of the table. "If BKDW withstands... then the situation entirely changes. The war becomes optional. We won't lose face, and we can demand such compensation and benefits that these ferrets will be working exclusively for us for the next twenty years. Do you understand what's at stake, Rock?"

"Yes, my sire."

"Now that you comprehend. Share the bad news."

"Sir?"

"What have we learned about Maestro?"

"Tunk spent more time with him," Rock stepped back.

"If you please, sire," the curator of the clerics stepped forward again.

"State it."

"He leaves quite a mixed impression. If you merely observe him and don't listen, he seems like an ordinary, slightly twitchy, impulsive young man. An experienced eye can't be fooled. He's no more than eighteen. But when you open your ears and shut your eyes, ignoring the youthful voice, albeit distorted by a closed helmet, everything changes. Clear speech, layered questions, the ability to listen and understand, even to hear what's left unsaid, unexpected boldness, the capacity to say an unequivocal 'no' to anyone, irrespective of their authority. A born diplomat, an experienced manipulator, and a leader who prefers to stay hidden. I repeat - EXPERIENCED manipulator, on par with Kotr, as far as I can discern," the heir's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "This is not just a talented young man. This is a man who's been through hell and high water. Who has been personally shaped by tough experiences. Who adapts swiftly to other cultures. He could have gone to the Break at any moment, but he 'saved face,' playing on the same level as Zanh Kiem. And he held his own against the Maker! Or... perhaps he even outplayed him. But I can't be certain because both Maestro and Zanh Kiem are far more skilled diplomats than me."

"You weren't chosen to work with the sensums for your diplomatic skills, but because your other qualities make the Gifted feel unthreatened by you," the heir said, supporting his man. "Conclusions?"

"Most of our analysts' work should be dismissed. I'd stake my reputation that he's a reincarnate. Moreover, the Maker's behavior during his conversation with Maestro supports my conclusion. If Maya Grimm was addressed by Zanh Kiem informally and as a young person, he was addressed with nothing but politeness and as an adult."

"So, the worst-case scenario, then?" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I'll add to Tunk's words," Rock interjected, without stepping forward. "Abel de Diaz, the papal legate, the Steel Eradicator, dropped to one knee before Maestro!"

"Correction," Tunk interjected. "He knelt before both Maestro and Maya. Perhaps that's how he greets all the Break Knights. We don't have any solid information on this matter."

"We're not considering the Eradicator and his reactions," dismissed the heir of Novilter. "He's too unpredictable, and neither we nor any analysts can reliably calculate what goes on in the mind of such an ancient and, even more so, dark entity." The de facto head of the state stood up and surveyed the room. "So, our priorities. Let's start with you..."

Lair Gluathon didn't get a chance to finish. The high doors swung open, and a young man around twenty-five bounded in without any announcement. Upon closer inspection, a clear resemblance could be discerned between the features of the newcomer and those of the study's owner.

Ignoring the curators who stood at attention, the young man rushed to the table.

"Lair! Just look!" he blurted out, thrusting a sheaf of papers filled with formulas and drawings into the heir's hand. "I think I've solved that problem!"

"Will it take long?" The tone of the heir softened noticeably when addressing the newcomer.

"I'll explain within an hour! Honestly!"

"You heard him?" The study's owner turned to the curators. "Dismissed! Return to me in an hour...an hour and a half at most!"

Even if bombs fell on the palace or hell opened beneath his feet, Lair Glauton would always make time for his younger brother. It was a promise he made standing over the bed of a dying boy many years ago. And even when the boy survived, the heir never once thought to rescind his word...