Готовый перевод Страж Империи / Guardian of the Empire: Глава 9

Chapter 9
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Sighing, I rolled the accompanying papers into a tube and trudged towards the exit. What could I do? There was no way out of this assignment... And even if I dug my heels in and refused to go with any escort, nothing good would come of it. In a dozen days, everyone would know about my help to a wanted criminal. I'd bet a hundred gold pieces that Covan wouldn't let my brazen deception slide... They wouldn't send me to the gallows for it, but I'd definitely get five years of hard labour.

//‘Listen, maybe we should... do something and run away?’ suggested the imp, clearly uninspired by the prospect I had outlined of spending who knows how long in the dungeons of the Secret Service.

//‘We'll see. We'll see what happens,’ I said, not immediately rejecting the offer. One way or another, something had to be done. You can't just leave things as they are when the situation promises such major trouble.

After leaving the office, Covan sent me into the hall to see his subordinates while he went to fetch the prisoner. I was glad of that. I didn't want to see poor Angel in the squalid conditions of the underground cellars. They weren't palace chambers, mind you, but more like ours and the interrogators' — a small cell, about three by three feet wide, without any amenities. You could only sleep there hunched over on the floor, and even then, for very little time, as the cold stone instantly sucked all the warmth out of your body.

Spotting me as I descended the stairs, the guards let out a unanimous cry of joy and relief. Apparently, they weren't happy standing at attention and listening to the rantings of some grey-uniformed man who'd decided to line them up and lecture them on the hows and whys of loitering around the police station and dumping junk wherever they could.

"So, this must be the foreman who leads this team of slackers," the grey-uniformed man noticed me, his face reddened during his angry speech denouncing all the vices of the guards lined up before him. And he asked sternly: "Why are you not in uniform?!"

"It's just not clear what to do now," I explained, feigning confusion. "After all, how does it work out – now I serve both in the guard and in the secret service... So I don't know what to do now. Should I ruin two sets of uniforms and sew them anew so that, for example, the left side is grey fabric and the right side is chain mail? Or what?"

"What?!" Following the cackling of my subordinates, the officer, puffed up like a turkey, cried out. "I'll get you! You won't get out! You'll be joking around there!"

"Alas, that's unlikely," I said, spreading my hands with feigned regret. "I was busy."

The grey uniformed man even bulged his eyes, marvelling at such insolence. How he hadn't been struck yet... Apparently, such performances were not often staged for him. But it was simply impossible to restrain himself. When else would he have the chance to get even with any of these high-ranking formalists! Instead of doing their job, they nitpick over every little thing. It's a pity, of course, that this isn't the same bureaucrat who came in the spring to check on the city guard and forced everyone on leave to march in the city square for almost a decade. He didn't like the way the patrols moved around the city, you see. That one got away in time... At least someone from their tribe got away with revenge.

"I'll show you, sergeant," hissed the officer, trembling with rage, and began to look around, wanting to call for backup to drag the insolent guard into the punishment cell.

"Just let Covan know first, in case he doesn't appreciate your enthusiasm," I advised with a nasty smile, and, completely ignoring the confused bureaucrat, turned to Burim: "What about the weapons? Have you sorted out who gets what?"

"Thomas, Gert, and Nick expressed their desire to take crossbows because they were confident in their ability to use them," reported Burim, the squad leader, cheerfully, after only a moment's hesitation. "The rest decided to make do with crossbows."

"Fine," I nodded, ignoring the grey-coated man who had decided to quietly retreat. "Then start loading the magazines for the bolt throwers." And, approaching the boxes standing against the wall, I began to examine them. "Tier Covan said we were supposed to be given guns with a magical component."

"Yes, that's right," Burim confirmed. "For some reason, they didn't give us any regular ones... The centurion also ordered Olaf to assign us a dozen bolts with Frost Strike." He cautiously inquired, "What do the authorities say about our convoy? Could we really get into serious trouble?"

"Don't doubt it... We have a decent chance of getting ourselves into serious trouble with this assignment from the Security Service," I nodded in response and, crouching down next to the box I had brought, began to consider what to do with the remaining arrows from the bad old days. We were already well equipped, and it was unlikely that any of my companions would be pleased at the prospect of carrying a couple of extra magazines on my initiative.

Moreover, as it immediately became clear, my subordinates did not waste any time. Without further ado, they equipped all their available magazines with bolts from the generosity of the Secret Service, without mixing them. Apparently, this was based on the simplicity of further use of the weapons. After all, to respond adequately to the threat, it would be enough to either use bolts with non-lethal spells ‘Paralysing Strike’ in the magazine attached to the crossbow, or quickly replace it with one of the other two in the pouch attached to the belt, which had completely different consequences for health, up to and including death. Those who were armed with crossbows had it even easier. The bolts had only two types of magical components and carried the ‘Sphere of Suppression’ and ‘Fading Life’ crystals in their tips.

After thinking it over for a moment, I gave Burim, John, and Stan an extra magazine from my stash. And the remaining arrows with ‘Air Ram’ and ‘Air Impact Sphere.’ That worked out to two of the first and three of the second for each of them. We finished off the magazines, which held eight rounds, with bolts with ‘Frost Strike.’ And one was left over.

It may be overkill, but what if the attack on the convoy happens somewhere in the inn, rather than on the road? And indoors, spells from the Air sphere will look very impressive. No one will suspect that the convoy is not fighting back seriously.

I equipped myself with another clip of bolts with ‘Whirlwind of Water Blades’ and ‘Devouring Flame.’ Just in case. And to the incomplete clip of bolts with ‘Blades of Light,’ I added one more at the top, with ‘Flash of Light.’ Just the thing to stop a fight or delay attackers — non-lethal and very effective. And then we'll see what else needs to be done.

"Well, the Security Service is on a rampage," Burim said almost inaudibly, looking behind me at the staircase at the back of the hall. "They've even started putting girls in chains."

"What?" I asked again and turned around. I froze when I saw Angel accompanied by Covan and another unremarkable Security Service employee walking slightly behind them.

//‘Look, look how well the collar suits her!’ the imp exclaimed triumphantly, noticing the remarkable adornment around the girl’s neck. It resembled a strip of flowing mist with multicoloured sparks glimmering within it. Apparently, it was the very ring of the element of Air that Sir Roderick had created. Although perhaps the horned one had another piece of jewellery in mind — a gold necklace with three blue diamonds. That was exactly what Angel wore when she was the prize in the Big Game. If we ignore the fact that this expensive trinket with stones restrains the magical abilities of the wearer, then it is true to say that the Guard chose a lovely piece of jewellery for the girl's slender neck. Although one must assume that it is actually a collar and not a simple necklace, because Angel cannot remove it herself.

Sensing something in my thoughts, the imp jumped onto my left shoulder and whispered conspiratorially: //“Have you ever considered trying to replay everything? Huh?”

//“What replay?” I looked askance at this scoundrel in bewilderment.

//‘Surely there must be some law that can reverse all this,’ winked the horned one. ‘To, say, declare the freehold you signed over to this sweetheart invalid...’ And, breaking into a nasty giggle, he continued: ‘For example, on the grounds that you were incapable of thinking properly under the influence of drugs!’

//‘There really is something like that in our laws!’ I perked up for a moment. But only for a moment. And in my frustration, I said, ‘You're as dumb as a brick, imp! Firstly, the Secret Service will never give us Angel, and secondly, even if we get everything back, I will be personally responsible for the murder of the city governor! And you too, for good measure!"

//‘You're a blockhead and a donkey!’ the imp exclaimed irritably, folding his arms across his chest. "No one needs your long-dead mayor! Go tell the most important of the grey ones that you know a way to quickly get the villainess to confess, that you can guarantee her obedience and loyalty. There will be no obstacles to your plan! And no one will remember the crime committed by your property! Because you can't bring back the dead, but the living can still bring in substantial profits. And a promising assassin mage will be useful not only to Aquitaine, but also to the Empire!"

//‘Perhaps,’ I thought, agreeing with the imp on some points. ‘But who told you that Angel would confess and betray his accomplices among the foreign agents?’

//‘Tsk!’ the imp waved his paw dismissively. "Don't mess around with this girl, just give her a good spanking, and she'll confess everything in no time. And, leaning close to his ear, he confided: ‘And if she's stubborn, I know more than a thousand methods of interrogating young beauties. Incredibly interesting and effective!’

//‘There's one thing you haven't taken into account,’ I said coldly, deeply offended by this vile proposal. ‘I'm not tempted by the idea of cruelly tormenting girls!’

//‘Well, too bad,’ said the filthy creature calmly, turning away. ‘It could have been very interesting...’

//‘No,’ I couldn't help saying, ‘it will be interesting when I find a way to get to you, so to speak, alive, and execute you by drowning you in a vat of holy water!’

//‘Oh, how scary!’ replied the tailed creature mockingly, adding peacefully, ‘I'm trying to help you... You'd better think about how much easier hunting dragons would be if you acquired a magessa as your personal property...’

//‘And here's what I think: I'll manage on my own, without any stupid advisors!’ I snapped, angry at the malicious devil. He only offers nasty things instead of something useful.

And he turned his full attention to the approaching Angel, staring at her other decorations. No less interesting, but more familiar in appearance.

Indeed, someone in the Third Department is a little out of their mind, to put it mildly. Not only did no one bother to get the noble girl any kind of headdress – she walked with her hair down – but they also put shackles on her! Both handcuffs and leg irons! Connected by a thin, long-linked chain, glistening with brand-new steel.

I shook my head and struggled to refrain from shouting angrily, //‘Monsters! Why are you tormenting the poor girl like this?!’ But I overcame myself and remained silent, continuing to stare at Lady Angel.

Surprisingly, the goldilocks girl lost none of her flawless beauty during her time in the underground dungeons. And those aren't furnished rooms with all the amenities and efficient staff. But still...

Upon closer inspection of Angel, I finally noticed small marks that suggested she'd been incarcerated. Her clothes were slightly rumpled — the kind you get when you fall asleep fully dressed. On the left sleeve of her long gray coat and the matching pant leg were carefully rubbed but not completely removed brown stains, resembling rust. And her hair wasn't styled, but rather remained in a refined disarray.

But all these trifles were overshadowed by the young criminal's eyes... Large, mesmerising, beautiful... Perhaps they could rival the dark emeralds of the supernaturally beautiful eyes of that wicked relative of the demons of temptation – Caitlin. And yet the clear sapphires of Angel's eyes had lost none of their brightness and sparkle... Whatever befell the lady's fragile shoulders in the dungeons of the Secret Service, it did not break her will.

When she saw me, Angel stumbled, and her face clearly showed surprise mixed with confusion. But the lady quickly pulled herself together. She realised that I was not a prisoner like her, since I had a weapon in my hands. Passing by, on her way to the administration doors, she just glanced in my direction and smiled a little sadly.

"So, is everything sorted out here, Tier Steini?" Covan asked, entrusting his assistant with escorting the criminal.

"Almost everything," I replied. And, unable to hide my indignation, I asked: "The only thing I don't understand is why on earth Lady Angel had to be put in chains? It would be one thing to chain up some beast-like brute to keep him from rampaging, but to do that to a girl?"

"You clearly underestimate our criminal's potential, Tier Steini," Covan smiled and said, holding out a small, shaped key on a short chain, "Here, take this. In case you need to remove the shackles." He chuckled cheerfully and added, "But it's best not to overuse it."

"And in what way am I mistaken about Lady Angel's abilities?" I inquired defiantly, taking the key so that I could free the girl from her chains at the first opportunity. For such precautions against a mage who cannot use her gift are utter nonsense.

"You, like everyone else, are mistaken in thinking that the criminal is an ordinary representative of the weaker sex, whose attack on a man would only leave him with a scratched face," the as-tarkh replied. "But that is absolutely not the case. Lady Angel is a well-trained, ruthless killer, and nothing less." And then, suddenly demanding, he asked, "Tell me, Tier Steini, would you send a helpless girl on such a serious mission as infiltrating a heavily guarded facility with the intent of killing the person inside?"

“No,” I shook my head.

"That's right!" Covan raised his finger instructively. "And no one would have sent."

"Is Lady Angel really so dangerous that she needs to be kept in shackles?" I asked thoughtfully. "She's a sorceress, after all, and her combat abilities lie in a different realm..."

"That assumption could be a fatal mistake for you, Tier Steini!" Covan remarked with a good-natured grin. "This fragile-looking girl, without any magic, has enough strength to defeat a strong man in a fistfight."

"Without magic?" I chuckled incredulously.

"Yes," Covan confirmed. "Our criminal has an exceptionally fine taliar — apparently a true shapeshifter. That's why she's incredibly fast, agile, and resilient, and also possesses truly astonishing vitality. As far as we can tell, the fusion occurred early in her childhood, which had a beneficial effect on her mastery of her body's new capabilities..." After a brief pause, allowing me to gather my scattered thoughts, the as-tarch continued: "According to Count de Seyt's guards, during the first attack, this individual gave them a hard time, demonstrating masterful use of light short-bladed and thrown weapons... And in the heat of the battle, no one was able even to touch this incredibly nimble girl, who practically darted along the walls. What's more, she even managed to dodge the arrows flying at her..."

"What, is she an adept at the magical school of close combat?" I asked in amazement, remembering the existence of such a strand in the development of Gifted Ones, who are not particularly strong. "By sword and magic" is their motto.

"Yes," Сovan confirmed my assumption. "Her gift is, frankly speaking, mediocre, and she was unable to increase her magical potential with a powerful familiar due to a lack of funds after fleeing the Empire. So she decided to at least rectify the situation in this way, to match her abilities in a real fight with more powerful mages. After all, most Gifted rarely exhaust themselves with physical training, and therefore prefer ranged combat and often balk at a direct attack with both steel and magic." He hastened to add: "This, of course, does not apply to your fiancée, Tier Steini. Lady Caitlin does not neglect her studies in the use of vile steel, although she, in particular, has no dire need for such assistance. With her gift... But here she was influenced by the example of her grandfather, who, as you know, is a combat mage."

"I know," I sighed heavily, but instead of delving further into dark thoughts about the possibilities of Caitlin and her family, I asked, "So what should we do with the criminal now? Should we keep her shackles on?"

"Look at the situation and decide," said the as-tarkh. "Suppressing the gift negatively impacts the physical condition of the Gifted, so Lady Angel doesn't currently pose an extreme danger. Rather, she's moderately dangerous." Covan paused, pondering something, and then sternly warned, "But, of course, don't give her any sharp objects during feeding!"

Looking me intently in the eyes, wanting to see if I'd grasped everything, Covan nodded with satisfaction and ordered the escort out into the street. Everyone did so gladly, for no one had any particular affection for the Third Department and no one wanted to linger in the gray-uniformed abode any longer than necessary.

They had barely stepped onto the porch when two stocky, unarmed men rushed up to Covan and announced in unison their arrival and readiness for the journey. However, they didn't have to bother. It was impossible not to notice the stagecoach and carriage standing by the steps.

"Tier Steini, so as not to unnecessarily strain the convoy, take one replacement pair with you on the stagecoach during the journey to keep an eye on the criminal, and let the others rest in the carriage during this time," the as-tarch either ordered or advised me.

"Burim, Gert, get on the stagecoach!" I quickly ordered, not mentioning that I'd forgotten to split the men into pairs. Oh well, let the first shift be exactly as I said, and then we'll figure it out.

"Don't worry about the coachmen, they are well protected too, and they are experienced people, they won't mess around if something happens," continued the as-tarkh, nodding at the men who were devouring him with their eyes. And he asked them sternly: "Rons, Gregor, have you remembered everything I told you? This time, no tricks with night races across rough terrain and detours to the destination!"

I couldn't help but smile as I looked at the coachmen, who began to swear that this time everything would be as it should be.

Waving them away, Covan complained to me:

"There's no getting along with them... They served five years in the mounted police, but they still haven't learned to follow orders." Shaking his head sadly, the as-tarkh said, "But overall, they're reliable, trustworthy people." And then he smiled: "Well, Tier Steini, it's time for you to go."

Of course, no one waved handkerchiefs after us. Our departure was quite ordinary. We threw our belongings into the luggage compartment of the stagecoach, took our seats, and set off. I, of course, joined Burim and Gert, who were watching over the criminal, while the rest of the guards took their places in the carriage driven by Rons.

A thin metal grate divided the stagecoach into two parts.

I can't say it surprised me much. I was expecting something like this, in the style of prison carriages, but still, seeing such a clear reminder of the passengers' different statuses was unpleasant. It was sad and painful to see a golden-haired woman behind bars in shackles. This was not her place! Angel's pure, flawless appearance did not fit with steel chains and steel bracelets. She didn't look like a criminal at all. And those were not the kind of jewelry that suited her.

Shaking my head in annoyance, I settled myself more comfortably in my seat and, holding the rifle on my lap with one hand, fell into thought as I looked at Lady Angel. It's hard to believe that she's a cruel, cold-blooded killer, and that's the problem. You look at this poor girl and feel sympathy for her... Even though she's done some terrible things. But I can't give in to my feelings. It's one thing to help a confused girl, but quite another to help a cunning enemy sent by the Empire's overseas foes to assassinate a high-ranking official. The former is acceptable, but the latter is not. Even if I myself have to suffer for aiding a criminal. If only I could understand who you really are, Angel...

After passing through the northern gate without inspection, the stagecoach picked up speed, and my subordinates visibly relaxed. Burim placed the crossbow against the wall, pressing it down with his foot, while Gert put his crossbow on the single seat opposite. A completely unexpected attack was impossible. The road from Kelm to Lusk is just a little short of imperial highway standards. Only because it is not levelled and graded according to the standard. All other conditions are met. The roadside on both sides of the road had been cleared of tall vegetation, including trees and bushes, for a distance of two hundred and fifty yards. There is plenty of land around Kelma, so there are enough peasant families who can maintain the areas adjacent to the road in relative order, providing convenient and, moreover, free places for mowing, without allowing thickets to form. Of course, it would be possible to simply burn everything. But the established order was beneficial to everyone.

"What's the matter with these fools?" Gert decided to involve us in the conversation when he got tired of silently staring at Angel. "Okay, I get it when some street urchin from the slums chooses the path of a hired killer, having seen nothing good in this life and taught by that very life to fight to the death for her place under the sun... But I can't figure out what's missing for these noble maidens who live like in a fairy tale... The only thing that comes to mind is that they're fools! And complete fools at that!"

"You simply didn't take into account, guard, that fairy tales can be sad... and also scary," Angel replied unexpectedly, without turning her head and continuing to look out the window.

And I nudged him in the side with my elbow and suggested somewhat sharply:

"If you have nothing smart to say, then it’s better to keep quiet."

"Come on, Kar," Gert didn't take my words seriously. "What would happen if I talked to this criminal about life? He winked at the lady who deigned to pay attention to him. ‘Maybe I'll come to some agreement with this cutie! So that the road to the capital doesn't seem so dreary for us and for her!"

"Listen, Gert..." I hissed through clenched teeth, realising that confrontation was inevitable and there was no point in standing on ceremony. "If you say anything else like that, I'll throw you out of the stagecoach. And I'll send you back on the grounds that you are unable to perform your duties due to multiple injuries. Have I made myself clear?"

"More than that," Gert grumbled discontentedly and remarked, "You're just nitpicking, Karridan, nitpicking... Sure, you've made it to foreman, but you're still too young. That's why you're already starting to forget things. You ignore the advice of your older comrades, even though they know better how to get things done so that everything runs smoothly... And so, casually, with a hint of arrogance, he adjusted his left sleeve, which was adorned with the golden stripe he had recently received, awarded to all guards who had served a full ten years."

"Gert, I forgot... Do you have a family?" I asked thoughtfully, glancing at him.

"No, why do you ask?" The guard was surprised by my question.

"Well, generally speaking," I shrugged, breathing a sigh of relief.

He was about to blurt out something else, but Burim pulled him back:

"Gert, stop chattering. Can't you see? Karridan isn't in the mood for jokes. He'll really throw you out of the stagecoach." And he said thoughtfully: "This is no time to think about entertainment, but about how to keep our skins intact."

"Come on," Gert said incredulously. "The Third Department has nothing better to do, so they're stirring up panic." He snorted. "What a big deal — escorting a girl to the capital!’"

"Not big, yet," I agreed with this statement, but hastened to add: "But only for now." I couldn't resist making a sarcastic remark: "However, I can understand why my older comrades think that the Third Department, instead of causing problems as usual, has arranged an easy and enjoyable trip to the capital for them... What can I say, senile dementia is a cruel thing."

"It's not up to you to decide how I should behave!" I replied irritably. "Although you can raise this issue at the meeting of the Kelm Guard Brotherhood and declare that I am not treating my colleagues wrong. We'll see if people really think I'm overstepping my bounds and need to be reined in... But until then, kindly keep your mouth shut. This is your last warning. One more outburst, and I'll consider you a saboteur bought by the Aquitanians and act accordingly. Is that clear?" When Gert, who was playing with his jaw, nodded, I added: "And remember, the trip is going according to combat regulations, without any exceptions. If you start messing around and disregarding the rules, treating this convoy as a leisurely outing rather than a serious assignment... I'm afraid you'll never have a family."

"Come on, stop arguing over nothing!" Burim couldn't take it anymore and turned to his neighbour: "Gert, calm down, will you? No matter how you look at it, Kar is our foreman right now, and our job is to obey, not to question orders."

Gert clearly wanted to say something else, but then grimaced and waved his hand, as if to say, ‘Never mind.’ And he didn't say another word.

"Watch out the window every now and then," I instructed Burim to distract him. He was looking at the criminal with too much interest.

"All right," he nodded, looking away from Angel with a sigh.

The lady paid no attention to him and calmly admired the view from the window. She behaved as if she had gone on a country outing with friends. Seeing the girl's complete disregard, Burim decided to talk:

Listen, Kar, are you really, as they say, marrying the granddaughter of our military commandant?

"Who told you that?" I asked, frowning in displeasure, cursing the Kelm gossipmongers who had spread rumours throughout the city about my entertaining relationship with Lady Caitlin.

"Well... different people are talking," Burim evaded a direct answer and asked with undisguised curiosity: "What, just rumours?"

"Not exactly..." I was admitted reluctantly under the intense gaze of Angel's blue eyes. She stopped staring out of the window, clearly interested in the entertaining conversation.

"Yeah, I knew there was something to it!" Burim rejoiced. "It was no coincidence that you got into a fight with those noblemen yesterday!"

"Forget it, it's all nonsense," I waved it off, not wanting to talk about an unpleasant topic. "But our task is a serious matter."

After making a couple more attempts to get me to talk and getting nowhere, Burim gave up. He sighed in disappointment and went back to admiring our charming criminal, because you could spend hours admiring such a beauty. But he didn't forget about business — every now and then, he would peek out the window to check on his side of the stagecoach.

Angel, however, did not cause us any trouble. She sat quietly, admiring the views. In general, she behaved like a good girl who had been chained up only because of someone's cruelty.

Thus, we arrived peacefully at the first stagecoach yard along the road on the outskirts of a small village called Ozerki. Of course, this village wasn't worthy of a sign. It wasn't really a town, after all, but its name stuck in my mind. We'd gone here with Veld, to visit some distant relative of his, for the wonderful fishing he'd promised and evening get-togethers with the naive village girls who adore city guys. At least we caught some fish that time... Nothing worked out with the naive girls. They weren't as trusting as Veld had told us. Apparently, the close proximity to a large city had its effect. The red-haired man was right about one thing. The local girls adore city guys. It's fun if you forget that a dozen relatives of some particularly attractive, giggly, cheerful girl are keeping a watchful eye on all your antics, ready to make a spectacle of themselves afterward. In this situation, there would be no way to avoid marriage; even Veld immediately understood this.

The stagecoach stopped right between a small, squat inn and a thatched canopy on tall poles, under whose shade there were at least fifty spare horses in a pen. Gregor apparently assumed that, if necessary, it would be possible to turn around very quickly in this part of the yard. But it would have been better if we hadn't needed all these precautions.

Nevertheless, after getting out of the stagecoach, I told Burim and Gert to stay alert and not relax. I ordered Thomas and Stan to keep an eye on the courtyard while Nick, John, and I checked out the inn.

The inn was brightly lit by windows that were too wide for most village buildings, and it was quiet and peaceful. This was to be expected, as there was not a single carriage in the courtyard except ours. Therefore, only one elderly maid was lazily scrubbing simple wooden tables, while the innkeeper watched her just as lazily, without thinking to hurry her along or rush her.

“Will there be anything to eat?” I inquired.

"Of course, Tier," the innkeeper perked up. "Come in, sit down, we'll serve you whatever you want." He then shouted at the maid: "Marta, stop this nonsense! Send Lanka here and let her take care of the customers!"

"Nick, John, find a spot somewhere near the doors and keep an eye on things while I have a heart-to-heart with this criminal. Maybe I can convince her not to cause us any trouble on the way," I said, after making sure that nothing in the empty hall posed a threat to our safety. And, stepping out onto the porch, I waved to the others, signalling that everything was calm and they could relax a little.

"Are we going to stop for long, Tier Foreman?" Gregor shouted from the cart. "Or, as usual, will we just give the horses an hour's rest?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you," I chuckled. "You ride everywhere, you should probably know where and how long to stop so as not to exhaust the horses or spend the night in an open field."

"Well, in that case, we'll probably stay for three or four hours," the coachmen decided in an instant, exchanging glances. "We'll wait out the midday heat, and later it will be easier for everyone — both us and the horses."

"As you say," I readily agreed and turned to my subordinates: "Bring the criminal out and take her to the hall. Let her eat. And we'll eat too."

Burim and Gert easily accomplished the task. There was nothing complicated about it, really. Move the wrought iron bar, open the door in the grille, and let Angel get out of the stagecoach on her own. And don't stop her from reaching the tavern. That's all there was to it.

A fair-haired maid younger than Martha, apparently the very same Lanka, was already waiting for us with a helpful smile on her lips. It was clear that she wanted to work hard to earn a few extra silver coins from satisfied guests. But after greeting us cheerfully, the girl stumbled over her words and froze with her mouth open, staring at Angel as she entered the hall. Angel, in turn, reacted quite calmly to the maid's behaviour.

"Let's sit here," I decided, choosing a table in the centre of the hall as our lunch spot.

"May I remove the handcuffs?" The lady looked at me questioningly as she stood up from the chair I had pulled out for her.

"Of course," I nodded, not even remembering Covan's warning. Taking out the key he had given me, I unlocked the handcuffs and helped Angel sit down at the table.

"So what would you like, honourable sirs?" Lanka finally came to her senses.

"Can I place the order myself?" asked Angel when I had decided what I wanted from the dishes available at the tavern.

"Of course."

Lady Angel smiled gratefully and quickly decided what she wanted on the table. Having sworn that everything we ordered would be immediately delivered, Lanka vanished. Angel and I were left alone.

"So that's how the guards decided to secure the convoy," the girl said quietly, with a sad smile, rubbing her wrists, which were now free from the shackles.

"What are you talking about, lady?" I asked quietly.

"About your appointment as my jailer, Karridan," Angel explained with a bitter sigh. "Apparently, the Third Department decided that my immense gratitude for being freed from debt bondage would prevent me from taking the most decisive measures to secure my release."

"I hadn't even thought about that," I said, pushing my hat forward and scratching the back of my head in confusion. It's quite possible that Covan took that into account when appointing me. But it's not a fact.

"It's because you're a good person, Karidan," Angel said softly, lowering her gaze and sighing. "And such vile ideas simply don't occur to you."

"Are you really going to try to escape, lady?" I asked, resisting the urge to offer a few words of encouragement to the poor girl who had fallen into such a predicament.

"I simply have no other choice, Karridan," the girl smiled painfully. "There wasn't a mental mage strong enough in Kelm to break through the mental blockade and get into my memory, but in the capital, that won't be a problem. And many good people will suffer because of me... Including you..." Angel's quiet speech turned into a barely audible whisper by the end. But she gathered herself, overcame her fear, looked me in the eyes, and said clearly, "That's why I can't go to the capital."

"I understand that," I assured my interlocutor, and added meaningfully: "But why do you personally need to take action?"

"What do you mean, Karidan?" The girl blinked in confusion and asked, bewildered, “You don't mean to say that you yourself will help me escape...?"

"Actually, I was thinking primarily of your Aquitaine friends," I said, not falling for the obvious ruse. "Someone was very worried that they would definitely try to free you."

"Ah, that's the thing," Angel smiled sadly and shook her head. "Alas, but that someone, unfortunately, is gravely mistaken about my friends. I have no connection to the Aquitaine agents. Although I've said so more than once. And I have no one to turn to for help."

"Well, I can understand why they didn't believe you, lady,“ I remarked. ”It's all too suspicious... Take that evening after the game, for example — how were you able to get hold of the right weapon in a strange city, especially without any money?"

"I can't answer that question, Karridan,“ the golden-haired woman said, looking at me plaintively. ”But believe me, I'm not connected to any organizations. Neither imperial nor Aquitanian. And I don't do contract killings. I just took revenge on the man who destroyed my family."

“I see,” I sighed, realizing with regret that we wouldn't be having a heart-to-heart conversation. Angel, of course, is smooth-talking, but she doesn't give me clear answers to the questions that are tormenting me. And without that, there's no way to understand who she really is—a cunning and calculating killer who's messing with my head, or just a girl who's confused by her problems.

"I see." I haven't convinced you, sighed the lady sadly. "That's a pity."

"Alas," I spread my hands, acknowledging this fact and agreeing with both parts of Angel's statement. Yes, she did not convince me. And I'm sorry that's the case too. And so I asked with undisguised annoyance: “One thing I can't understand is why those kind people who supplied you with weapons didn't help you hide from the Third Department's persecution?”

"These people had already risked so much by supporting me in a difficult moment... I didn't want to drag them into my problems," the lady shook her head and, after a moment's hesitation, added in a barely audible voice. "And I was absolutely sure that I could leave the city with impunity. Or, at the very least, that I wouldn't fall into the hands of the Third Department alive."

"You should have stayed with me," I grumbled. "I would have found a way to help you get out of Kelma. But now you're probably lost."

"No, Kar, it's just bad luck,“ said the girl sadly. ”The Third Department's search dogs caught up with me in the worst possible place — the market square."

"But they say you are a master of close combat, I frowned. Why didn't you fight off your pursuers? You knew that nothing good awaited you in the torture chambers."

"Master!" The lady smiled crookedly and asked, “Kar, did you see what happened to your mayor's palace?”

“No,” I shook my head and admitted with regret, “There was no time.”

"The left wing of the building is literally in ruins," Angel informed me. "Despite all the magical protection." She sighed bitterly: "Kar, if I had started a fight in the marketplace, Kelm would have been plunged into days of mourning for the innocent victims... Alas, my skills are not sufficient to fight my way through a crowd of well-equipped Security guards without harming people who are not protected from magic... So I had no choice but to surrender. After all, I only wanted to take revenge on the man who made me an orphan, not kill innocent people."

“I see,” I said, looking at the girl with sympathy and increased affection.

Lanka brought over a large tray with the food we'd ordered, and Angel didn't continue the conversation. I didn't insist, noticing the girl's hungry gaze as she looked at the food. Bread and water aren't enough to fill your stomach, and they don't serve anything else in the Third Department dungeons.

After the meal, Angel immediately extended her hands towards me, offering to put on the shackles, surprising me greatly with this gesture.

//"Just look at her, what a submissive darling! She's simply adorable!" The imp was touched and reproached me: "And you, a moron, refused such a lovely slave!"

//"Shut up, you animal!" I demanded angrily. And since it didn't give me any pleasure to see the young lady in chains, I said to her:

"You can do without shackles... If you promise not to try to escape."

"I'm sorry, Kar, but I can't make that promise," Angel shook her head regretfully. "I can't let down the people who trusted me."

“Well, alright then,” I reluctantly agreed and put the shackles on the girl.

But other than that, nothing changed. We remained seated at the table. It wasn't like we were going to sit around in a stagecoach waiting for the convoy to continue on its way. My subordinates took turns snacking while I chatted with Angel about all sorts of nonsense, trying to get to know her better.

The heat had indeed subsided somewhat, and much later in the afternoon, travelling by stagecoach proved not to be so difficult. Long before sunset, we left behind a small town called Lursk and reached an inn located on the Southern Route, which was connected to the road to Kelm.

Passing the high fence surrounding the resting place for weary travellers, we found ourselves in a huge courtyard, large enough to accommodate a small village. Or a couple of large trading caravans, which often travel along the road from the southern gate of the Empire, Masher, to the capital itself. But today the courtyard was almost empty. Only near the porch of the huge two-storey inn, built of roughly hewn grey stone, stood a carriage with an emblem familiar to everyone - a clenched fist painted in white paint in a sun ring. A little further away, between the stables and the fence, stood a simple cart. It had an iron cage made of wide wrought-iron bars. Inside this dungeon sat a thin, wretched man, his back scarred by the whip. He greedily drank from the cup handed to him by his compassionate brothers, the inquisitors.

“Foreman, we can’t get to the porch,” Gregor informed me, stopping the stagecoach in the middle of the yard.

"It's okay, we'll get by on foot," I replied. "Let's just take a look around." And I stepped onto the ground, which was compacted to the consistency of stone.

"May the Creator bless you!" the man in the cage, having eaten his fill, piously thanked the inquisitors. "May He grant you salvation and cleanse your souls from the heresy in which you are mired!"

I even stopped short when I heard this passage. A heretic instructing inquisitors in the faith!

"Do not compound your sins, son of mine," the rather elderly inquisitor, his face shaved blue, addressed him deceptively gently. "Renounce your errors. And you will be forgiven."

"No!" He shook his head stubbornly and continued passionately. "I will not renounce my true faith! And I will not worship that monster whom you, madmen, have named the Bright Angel!" And with pain and despair, he proclaimed. "How can you be so blind, brothers? Look around you! And understand — this world cannot be the promised land given to us by the Creator himself! All this is the heretical deceit of the dark forces that lured our ancestors into this world with lies! Where angels and demons are one! And they differ from each other no more than a light-skinned person differs from a dark-skinned person!"

"The demons have clouded your mind, brother, and are forcing you to utter such blasphemous speeches," the inquisitor shook his head regretfully.

"That's not true, I am of sound mind!“ the heretic protested vehemently, and, suddenly noticing that he was being listened to not only by the inquisitors standing by the cage, he raised his voice: ”These malicious creatures who call themselves angels and demons are the same! And that is the bitter truth! Everything around us is nothing more than a farce! A game played by these two races! A game they invented after this wonderful world was emptied as a result of their amusements! And we are nothing more than toys, deceitfully drawn into a cruel game!"

I almost tapped my finger on my temple. Idiot. The only thing he'll agree to is atonement through Light. But you have to admit, he's a stubborn idiot if he continues to stand his ground even in front of the inquisitors. Or maybe he's just crazy.

"Is that interesting, son of mine?"

"Not really," the insidious question made me flinch. The senior inquisitor had approached me completely unnoticed.

"Well, apparently I was mistaken in assuming that you were captivated by the heretic's speech," said the zealous defender of the faith, spreading his arms regretfully and keeping his keen gaze fixed on me.

"Apparently so," I agreed. "I didn't hear anything interesting." And to dispel any suspicions of my loyalty to the true church, I said, "Father Primate Yul has repeatedly warned us about such lost souls. Therefore, his heretical speeches didn't disturb my soul in the least. I was simply surprised to see you allowing this man to disturb the people. Why do you do this?"

"A soul abiding in the Light cannot be converted to Darkness by empty words," the elderly inquisitor answered my question after a moment's thought. "But one already inclined to betray the true faith can be exposed."

"Are you catching dark ones with live bait?" I realized.

"One could say that, too," the inquisitor hinted at a smile with the corners of his lips and, casting an indifferent glance at the stagecoach, asked gently: "Why aren't your companions getting out, my son? Have they not grown tired of being in the stuffy stagecoach all day?"

"We didn't really suffer that much. We waited out the heat and rode in the cool air," I tried to justify myself and get rid of this overly persistent priest.

“Prudent,” praised the inquisitor, commending our initiative, and suggested, “But still, let your companions come out. Suddenly, one of them may need to have their sins forgiven...”

“Yes, Holy Father, I wish to repent,” Angel said, looking out the window, momentarily plunging me into a stupor with her unexpected move.

Staring at the lady in shock, I tried to understand what it all meant. Had Angel decided that her death at the stake was the surest and quickest way to leave the Thired Department empty-handed? Or was it all a cunning prank? Perhaps they weren't inquisitors at all, but our criminal's Aquitaine accomplices dressed up as them?

“I am glad to hear it, child of mine,” the smiling inquisitor praised the lady’s spiritual zeal, glancing at her briefly and continuing to look at me.

“Forgive me, Father, but I cannot allow this,” I said, taking a deep breath and stepping into the path of the inquisitor who was approaching the stagecoach door.

"And what does this mean, son of mine?" The blissfully smiling priest folded his palms and almost purred. "Are you saying you reject this daughter of God's sacred right to repentance and atonement?" And, still smiling, he turned to his companions: "My brothers, come here."

"Eh, tier foreman, maybe we should let... the lady repent?" Gregor asked quietly. "She's not going anywhere from here in shackles."

"Forgive me, Father," I repeated, glancing sideways at the inquisitor's assistants approaching the scene, their harmless, iron-clad truncheons strapped to their belts. I pulled the accompanying papers from my jacket's inside pocket. "Please read this."

"Why would I need this?" the priest asked in surprise, shaking his head disapprovingly. "When I see terrible things with my own eyes..." And, pointing an accusing finger at the bolt thrower I was clutching, he raised his voice. "A man who, with a weapon in his hand, blocked the path of the Holy Inquisition!"

"That..." Stopping myself from uttering a curse that was about to escape my lips, I wistfully assessed my slim chances of a favorable outcome in the confrontation with the inquisitors. My own people would kill me if I started fighting the priests, even if it later turned out that they were actually Aquitaine agents in disguise.

"That's what I'm saying," said the old priest sternly. "What good are your papers to me when your actions reveal your true nature!"

I cursed under my breath. A fanatic, no doubt! Only such ardent adherents of the faith see a heretic in everyone and try their best to expose them. And you really can't get away with something like that with empty words.

"Okay, then, let's talk business," I suggested. "And figure out who's who."

"Speak, speak, son of mine," the priest nodded benevolently, stopping his assistants, who had formed a semicircle around the stagecoach, with a wave of his hand. "Everything will be credited to you."

“May your words reach the ears of the Creator,” I said sarcastically, smiling. "For I feel that a warm place awaits me in the Upper World, according to my deeds! Since there is no more ardent supporter of our mother church who has constantly proven his loyalty through his actions!" Looking sympathetically at the inquisitor, I shook my head: "But where you will end up after death, I do not even know. You are not doing your job well. You are catching some poor, feeble-minded wretches instead of the true enemies of the Light!

"He is a hardened heretic spreading the false teachings of Darkness, not an innocent sufferer!" bristled the priest.

"Not much of a haul," I said, casting a dismissive glance at the cart with the cage, and modestly remarked. "Just now I sent a whole dark master to the demons!"

"How did you manage to do that?" the inquisitor asked incredulously, fixing me with a searching gaze.

"So my words are not to be trusted," I reminded him and advised. "Go to Kelm and find out how Karidan Steini managed to defeat the dark master. Go straight to Father Yol, the head of our branch of the Order of the Punishing Hand of God, and he will open your eyes."

"Does the Fathe Primate know you?" the priest asked, pretending to doubt my words a little.

"And he knows very well," I assured the inquisitive old man, making my eyes as honest as can be. "Go and ask him. I think he'll be happy to tell you about the dark master I killed and how much of a pious son of our church I am."

"What kind of papers did you want to show me?" the priest asked with a sober expression, clearly not looking forward to going to a showdown with his high-ranking colleague.

"Here, take a look,“ I said, handing him the documents again. ”These are the papers issued by the Third Department for the escort to the capital of a particularly dangerous criminal who killed our mayor." And to finally convince the inquisitor to back off, I added: “Without a doubt, in the capital, the prisoner will be given the opportunity to confess and have her sins forgiven. But for now, it's premature, because we're not taking her to be executed, but for questioning.”

"If a person’s soul demands repentance, then no one has the right to limit it in this striving for the Light,” the inquisitor stated decisively, returning the papers to me.

"I don't dispute that," I feigned naivety. "It's just that I don't think your perfectly fair comment is relevant to this case. The criminal couldn't care less about the pious impulses of her soul. She just wants to leave everyone high and dry by incriminating herself. She probably thinks that with the help of the Inquisition, she will be able to escape the investigation conducted by the imperial authorities and keep secret the criminal network created in Kelme by malicious Aquitanians." And I shrugged. "Of course, I may be wrong, Father, but I still believe that the request for repentance is just a cunning ploy on the part of this person, and not a sudden attack of remorse and piety."

"A trick, then," frowning and nodding decisively, thought the inquisitor.. "You are right about something, foreman. Therefore, I will not stand in the way of your journey and will accept this sinner's repentance. But bear in mind," he warned, looking at me sternly, "I will report this incident! And God forbid if it turns out that you forgot to inform your superiors about your ward's desire to meet with a priest for a penitential confession!"

"Don't worry, father, I have a good memory."

"Let us depart, brothers, there is nothing for us to do here," said the senior inquisitor to his assistants. He had already started to walk away, but then turned back to me: "Tell me, son of mine, would you truly use weapons against representatives of the Holy Inquisition if we decided to take your ward away?"

"I never even thought of using a weapon against you," I assured the priest fervently. "I was just holding it in my hands when you approached."

With a satisfied nod, the inquisitor finally let go of me and returned to the heretic who was speaking from his cage. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. I almost got myself into trouble! I managed to get out of it... It's scary to imagine what would have happened if that sanctimonious man had insisted on his way. They would have accused me of armed resistance to holy men and branded me a heretic. And then they would have hunted me down like a mad dog. The hands of the Order of the Punishing Hand of God are very long... But I couldn't let that stupid girl end her life at the stake!

Angel was looking out the window. I gave her a stern look and threatened in a dark tone:

"Don't you dare do anything like that again, lady. Unless you want to spend the rest of the journey with a gag in your mouth." He ordered the guards who had gotten out of the carriage: "Don't let anyone near the criminal. Otherwise, I have a feeling her tongue will cause us a lot of trouble." After giving the necessary orders and advising the lads to keep their eyes open, I went to negotiate lodging.

Upon entering the inn's hall, I immediately noticed a noisy group of men occupying a table in the left corner. There were only seven of them, but they made as much noise as thirty. However, they also had enough weapons with them to equip a good-sized band of mercenaries. That is, of course, if they had enough money for such excellent equipment. The crossbows like mine were worth a fortune. And the light chain mail armour, glistening with polished moon silver, was mind-bogglingly expensive for ordinary soldiers. But not for these crazy demon hunters.

"Oh, brother, come on!" someone from the riotous group shouted, noticing my bolt thrower.

I glanced at these lunatics, shook my head, and continued on my way to the bar, behind which sat a huge, mustachioed man.

“I’m listening to you, Tier,” this fat-bellied fellow boomed like from a barrel when I hesitated, figuring out how we could accommodate the whole company at the inn.

"I'd like to rent a couple of rooms for the night, for two and eight people," I expressed my wish. Is there anything suitable?

"We'll find it, sir, we'll find it," the innkeeper assured. "We'll clear out one room of the extra beds right now, and that'll make a double room. And accommodating eight people together won't be a problem at all."

"And it would also be desirable for the rooms to be located next to each other,” I added.

"So, they will be nearby," the obliging host immediately promised, ready to bend over backwards to get guests. In the summer, his income is relatively low. This is because many carters, not wanting to spend extra money, stay overnight right in the yard, in their carts or carriages. No one will chase them away at night.

“Excellent,” I said, delighted at the lack of problems on this side, and immediately paid for the room rentals with the money I was given for the trip.

The host immediately sent the servants to prepare the rooms, and I, having looked around the hall once more and not noticing any ambush set by the treacherous Aquitanians, went out into the courtyard. There I killed some time, chatting with Gregor and Rons, who wanted to put their horses in the stable so they wouldn't have to bother with them themselves. And then I ordered the guards to bring out the criminal.

As soon as we entered the hall, we attracted everyone's attention. Even the noise died down. Not for long. Until one fair-haired demon hunter exclaimed:

"Hey, guards, are you completely out of your minds – putting a girl in chains?!"

His companions supported him with a discordant murmur and scattered remarks, saying that the guards had become weak and were so afraid of the girls that they put them in chains. Gert immediately turned red and wanted to say something equally sarcastic in response, but I pulled him back. And I turned to the innkeeper:

"Show us our rooms."

But before we could reach the stairs leading to the second floor, the blond man appeared in our path. He was joined by a darker, older comrade. Ignoring the guards who were aiming their bolt throwers at him, he turned to Angel:

"My respects, lovely Tiera. Would you be so kind as to accept the offer of these valiant demon hunters to share the meal?"

“She won't be pleased,” I immediately interjected, not letting the lady open her mouth. “She'll have dinner in his room.”

"It's you who has dinner in the room,“ the hunter waved me away and looked questioningly at the girl: ”Tierra?"

“Get out of my way,” I demanded from the impudent man, shielding Angel with my body.

"Guard, don't get so worked up," said the blond-haired man's friend slowly. "Nothing will happen... The girl will sit with us at the table, drink some wine, what's the big deal? She won't run away, I promise you." And, leaning closer, he took a gold coin out of his purse and handed it to me: “Here you go, for your understanding.”

"Shove your money deeper," I muttered through clenched teeth, barely restraining the urge to smack that insolent mug with the butt of my rifle. "And get out of my way."

“'Or what?’ asked the insolent bastard. ‘Are you going to scare me with a bolt thrower? I'm not afraid of metal! " And he whinnied like a horse. What can I say? He's sick. Completely insane. However, there are no other kinds of demon hunters. It's hard to imagine how out of your mind you have to be to willingly go down to the Underworld to hunt evil spirits. They may earn good money doing it, but the chance of being taken by the demons forever is incredibly high.

"Where did you get that, by the way?" the blond man asked, eyeing my weapon suspiciously. "Did you steal it from one of our brothers?"

"Get out of the way," I demanded again, even though my fingers were itching to punch someone in the face. But that was clearly what they were after, and giving in to idiots was the last thing I wanted. And I had a feeling that if a fight broke out, it wouldn't be a matter of fighting. It might even end in bodies. And not just the bodies of demon hunters, considering their excellent equipment...

"Listen, guard, are you a human being or what?" the dark-haired man demanded. "We treat you normally... We even give you money... What the hell are you showing off for? What difference does it make to you where the girl sits—locked in a room or at our table? What, do you want more money or what?"

"Damn, why do I always run into such idiots?" Turning my head, I asked Burim and, demonstratively and slowly, pulled the lever of the crossbow, putting the weapon on combat mode. Then I coldly said to my motley friends: “This is the last time I'm asking you to get out of the way. After that, don't blame me.”

"What's the heck, guard, have you completely lost your mind or something?" the dark-haired man said loudly. "Who are you pointing that bolt thrower at?"

"You're wrong, guard," the blond-haired man supported his friend. "We're not some kind of defenseless rabble. Just try to shoot, and you'll get such a response that you won't believe your eyes."

“I don't care,” I grinned. "You'll get it worse. I don't know what will happen now, but later your whole order will get what it deserves. If I were a guard in some small town, your insolence might have gotten away with it. At worst, you could have bribed the lord whose men were beaten. But they won't let you get away with attacking the convoy of the Third Department. You know how negatively our emperor views all cases of blatant insubordination by any organized groups after the Archmages' Rebellion. He will easily wipe out your order because of you, a couple of idiots...

"Bruno, Oscar, calm down!" The burly hunter quietly ordered from behind the table. "Can't you see that you can't get anywhere with this guard? It's probably his first time out of his little town, so he's acting all tough and rude to strangers... And in the Third Department, he was probably instructed that he should really start shooting people, just to justify the high trust placed in him."

"Come on, guys! You're sitting here, and look what's happening out there!" Another young hunter rushed into the room and waved invitingly to his companions: "Let's go out to the courtyard! They've brought in a heretic, and he's spouting such nonsense! And their chief inquisitor is such a funny old man!"

"Okay, let's go, Oscar," the blond man waved, pretending to be deeply interested in the spectacle unfolding in the courtyard, and he and his friend left. It really wouldn't be dangerous for them to squabble with the Inquisition, since people who destroy demons are the last people you can accuse of aiding the Darkness, no matter how hard you try.

//“And this is only the first day…” A sad thought suddenly flashed through my mind.

No one else interfered, and we quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor. The maid had just finished converting the four bed room into a double.

“Also, move this bed closer to the window,” I looked around and ordered the boys who were about to sneak away.

“And the other room is the next one down the corridor,” the owner said, frowning and tugging at his mustache.

"Stan, Nick, you stay on guard at the door, and the rest of you will take up positions in the next room,” I immediately ordered.

"It would be best if you did not go down to the hall," the innkeeper said to me after hesitating. "Otherwise, it might indeed lead to trouble."

"Yes, let the servants serve dinner in the rooms," I decided after some thought, in order to avoid any new conflicts. And, seeing the excitement among my subordinates, who were already anticipating a luxurious dinner at the expense of the treasury, I added: “But no alcohol.”

"Will it be possible for me to visit the bathhouse?" Angel asked hesitantly.

"I don't even know," I thought. And, mentally spitting on Covan's instructions, I said: "Let's do it a little differently. Master," I said to him, "have the servants bring a tub of warm water here. And send a maid to help the lady get herself ready."

“Thank you,” Angel looked at me with gratitude and joy.

“Everything will be,” the owner promised and immediately took the boys into his lap, setting them to work.

"Can the shackles be removed?" The lady asked imploringly and immediately assured him, “I promise not to run away during this time.”

"Okay," I agreed after thinking it over, deciding it wouldn't hurt to check how true the criminal was to her word. And I removed her shackles.

And then, figuring there were only two escape routes from the room, I ordered Burim and Gert to go out into the yard and keep an eye on the window. So that our criminal wouldn't accidentally disappear while bathing.

But it all worked out. Either Angel realized the guards were watching and wouldn't let us escape, or she genuinely just wanted to go for a bath. Or maybe she was trying to lull us into a false sense of security and was just being a good girl.

When Angel had tidied herself up, I returned to the room and sat down on the bed by the window. After a moment's hesitation, I explained to the girl who was looking at me questioningly:

"Here's the thing, lady... I have strict orders not to leave you unattended... So I will be sleeping in the same room with you."

"And watch me through your sleep?" the girl, noticeably more cheerful after her bath, smiled slightly, to my unspeakable relief, not causing a scene about the violation of her honor and dignity.

"Don't worry, I'm a very light sleeper," I assured her. "And if anything happens..."

“Okay, Karridan, I get it,” Angel said, and with touching spontaneity asked, “What are we having for dinner today?”

"Whatever you order, that's what it'll be," I shrugged, seeing no point in hindering something as trivial as her independent food choices. We're not in prison, after all, so we shouldn't restrict Angel's choices either.

The lady was pleased with my compliance. I decided to take advantage of the girl's good mood and try to get her talking again after dinner.

The lady was pleased with my compliance. I decided to take advantage of the girl's good mood and try to get her talking again after dinner.

"What exactly?" Angela glanced at me, puzzled.

"The point of your actions with the inquisitor," I explained. "It's eluding me..." And then I offered a sudden suggestion: "Perhaps you're seeking death? Forgetting that the souls of suicides, even if they acted with good intentions, await eternal torment in the lair of demons?"

"I just thought, since I have the opportunity, it would be nice to confess," the girl replied quietly, looking down. "And relieve my soul of the heavy burden of the murders I committed. But I had no intention of incriminating myself."

"Oh, indeed," I snorted indignantly. "And you chose the senior inquisitor as your confessor. Do you think that's reasonable?"

"What's so special about that?" the lady asked, genuinely surprised.

“That such a confession could easily lead to redemption by the Light,” I explained, frowning, restraining myself from expressing indignation at the thoughtless act of the naive girl.

"But I'm not guilty of any heresy!" Angel assured me. "And that means I have nothing to fear."

"We're all guilty of something," I countered. "We are not angels, mind you." I chuckled sheepishly, realizing I hadn't quite made the right argument.

"Okay, Karridan, I understand," the golden-haired woman raised her hands defensively. "I won't ask the inquisitors for confession anymore."

"That makes me very happy, lady," I sighed with relief. There are enough problems as it is.

And the lady suddenly declared:

"You know, Kar, I think it would be more appropriate to address each other simply, without these respectful titles and formalities..." And she blushed slightly: "Given the circumstances."

"What other circumstances?" I didn't understand.

"Well, our joint participation in that incredibly depraved act... When we undressed that villain in black together... Caitlin..." the girl clarified, looking charmingly embarrassed.

"Ah... Well, yes..." I was confused, recalling the circumstances of the case. And how could I have dreamed up such debauchery back then... It would have been fine if I had undressed Caitlin de Mans myself, but no, I had incited Angel to it... Although in my right mind and sober memory I wouldn't have dared to suggest such a thing even to such an uninhibited person as Kaylee, let alone a noble stranger.

“And what happened next, Ker?” the girl asked. “When Caitlin comes to her senses?”

"Then..." I hesitated, searching for the right words, but then waved my hand and said it plainly: "Then they tried to kill me cruelly." I sighed sadly. "And then everything got even worse... Caitlin's grandfather caught us at the scene and ordered us to sort things out among ourselves, as was customary."

"So that's why your friend started talking about you getting married to the military commander's granddaughter," Angel guessed.

"It's all just empty talk!" I dismissed with annoyance. "There won't be any wedding." But I quickly corrected myself: "At least not at the moment and on her terms... Better the chopping block."

"But, Kar, her grandfather's demand is perfectly justified in this case," Angel noted cautiously. "Any decent man is obliged to marry the girl after what he did to her... And even if there's terrible animosity between you, that's no reason to shirk responsibility."

"Enmity is a minor aspect of life," I muttered and expressed my feelings: "That woman believed she could use me as a cover for her illicit affair with another woman!"

"Oh!" That was all Angel could say, stunned by my words, and she blushed rapidly. "So that's why they took part in that disgusting Kelms game – the Big Game."

"Yes, that's probably why," I nodded, agreeing with the young lady's guess. The same thought had occurred to me as soon as Caitlin's preferences became clear.

"Are you sure, Kar?" After pausing for a moment to think, Angel suddenly asked, "Are you sure that Caitlin's relationship with her friend is truly immoral? Maybe they didn't cross the line of completely innocent girlish fun?"

"What are you talking about, Angel?! What innocent girlish fun could there be?!" I stared at the girl in disbelief. She looked away, completely embarrassed. This only heightened my suspicions and led me to a completely wild thought: could Angel be one of them, too?!

"Well, you know how it is... gossip and all that..." mumbled Angel, carefully avoiding my gaze. "What if they just told you some nasty, dirty rumours? When in reality, they're just very close friends..."

"Rumours!" I snorted and added indignantly, "Caitlin told me herself! She even started kissing Majeri right in front of me!"

"But why did she need to do that?" Angel looked at me in bewilderment and shook her head sadly: "I don't understand... if she really wanted to hide her scandalous affair... All she did was turn you against the wedding."

"She needs it because she's a bitch," I muttered. "She likes to torment people." Then, sighing, I suggested, “Angel, let's talk about something else, shall we?”

“Go ahead,” the golden-haired girl readily agreed, also feeling uncomfortable discussing overly frank topics with a guy she essentially didn’t know.

"Angel, you said you killed Count de Seyt in revenge for the death of your family..." I began cautiously. "Could you elaborate? What caused this whole mess?"

"Oh, this feud between our families goes back a long way," sighed the girl sadly and fell silent for a moment. Then she began to speak quietly: "It all started long before I was born, Kar. Back then, my great-grandfather and William de Seita's grandfather were, if not comrades, then certainly good friends. They served in neighbouring posts and held equal positions... They commanded two border fortresses on the Tashir Pass. It was just then that the second war with the non-humans began... And it was their line of defence at the pass that took the first blow... My great-grandfather Torvald de Sameri's fortress, without waiting for reinforcements, fell after a day and a half of heroic defence... There were no survivors... Robert de Seyt left his fortress and withdrew with his troops to the foothills, calling it a strategic retreat for redeployment... And he survived. He was even awarded for his valour on the battlefield..."

"If so, then he must have done a great deal to win that war," I remarked after thinking about it. "Otherwise, he would have been punished regardless of his merits."

"Yes, Robert de Seyt was an excellent military commander, and the troops he led won many glorious victories over the hordes of non-humans," agreed Angel. "That's why they accepted his interpretation of events. There was really no chance of defending the fortresses at that time. But he had no right to retreat either... That's why my grandfather, Ulrich, killed him in a duel immediately after the war ended. The girl sighed. And so it began... Our families began to slaughter each other at every opportunity, believing only themselves to be right. Until I became the last of the Sameri clan..."

"What a terrible story," I sympathised, and after thinking for a moment, I remarked: "But you're a sensible girl, Angel. Why didn't you put an end to this senseless quarrel? After all, you can't bring the dead back to life."

"That's just how it turned out, Kar," sighed the girl. "Perhaps it's because I'm not as virtuous as, say, the holy martyr Elke... And over the past ten years, I've still not been able to understand and forgive the man who killed my parents and brother."

"Are you talking about the mayor of Kelms, Count William de Seite?" I asked, frowning.

"Yes, about him."

"But how is that possible?" I doubted the girl's words a little, urging her to continue her explanation. "That the count would engage in murder..."

"No, of course, he didn't personally attack our house, leaving me an orphan," Angel shook her head sharply. "But he sent the killers!"

"There it is," I said, and asked curiously, "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," the lady nodded decisively. "As he was dying, the hired assassin told me who had paid him."

"What if he lied?" I snorted. "Trusting the words of any rabble is the last thing you should do."

"He had no reason to lie," the girl shrugged. "He wanted an easy death, and by confessing, he got it."

"How old were you then, Angel? If a decade has passed since then?" I asked with a sigh. "You were just a little girl... And that murderer, dying from his wounds, could have easily deceived you."

"He couldn't," Angel smiled a little crookedly. "At that moment, he was very afraid of me."

"Why that?" I was amazed.

"From the fact that a little girl armed with a toy dagger looks funny but cuts painfully," explained Angel, lowering her gaze, and began to run her index finger across the table, drawing some shapes.

"Oh, yeah," I said, stunned. "What a childhood you had... I thought sometimes even noble people had a hard time, but for it to be like this..."

“Life is a complicated thing, Kar,” Angel shrugged, sighed sadly, and fell silent.

I fell silent, pondering the young lady's words and thinking about how to continue the conversation. But our confidential chat was not meant to continue. Angel yawned, delicately covering her mouth with her hand. Looking into her eyes, clouded by a hazy veil, I realised that my companion was struggling to stay awake, fighting to keep herself from falling into a deep sleep. It seemed that the last few days had exhausted her.

"Go and rest, ladies," I commanded. "We will have time to talk later. The journey to the capital is not a short one."

"But sooner or later our paths will diverge anyway," the girl murmured sleepily and, looking at me a little guiltily, held out her hands.

"Angel, are you sure we can't do without it?" I sighed and asked, glancing at the shackles lying on the chest by the door.

"Yes, Kar, I'm sure," smiled the golden-haired girl sadly. "Be that as it may, we cannot change the circumstances. You must do everything in your power to prevent my escape, and I will still try to run away. And playing along is inappropriate here, because later it can turn into big trouble for one of us."

"All right, Angel, it's your choice," I shrugged and put shackles on the criminal. "Then I screwed the wick onto the oil lamp standing on the table and collapsed onto the bed. The girl went to her bed."

After tossing and turning for a while, I decided not to voice the thought that was tormenting me and tell Angel that it was unacceptable to escape through the window, the path to which led across my bed. After all, I am a very light sleeper. And I might misunderstand if a girl started climbing over me in the middle of the night. But how could I say such a thing to a noble lady? For such provocative and vulgar insinuations, she could get me punched in the face. And what's worse, I could deeply offend Angel, who had no such intentions... And so, after tossing and turning for a while, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.

For the curator

The day passed quietly, with no movement from the Aquitanians. We continue along the same route, with long stops in the middle of the day. The atmosphere within the detachment is calm. The senior escort performed excellently today, quickly and smoothly resolving a couple of conflict situations. The criminal is behaving calmly and causing no problems.

Ferret

* * *

Angel slept soundly all night, never attempting to reach the window via my bed. My worries proved to be unfounded. I should have just slept normally...

After a quick breakfast, we departed. The inn with the inquisitors and demon hunters dissolved into the morning mist, and I breathed a sigh of relief. And the lost imp immediately reappeared.

//‘What, you cowardly scum, have the holy fathers frightened you?’ I sneered, taunting the horned creature.

//‘Not at all!’ The imp made a dismissive grimace, unwilling to admit his fear, and, flashing his eyes, declared: ‘I just didn't want to embarrass you with my presence...’ Rubbing his paw on the coin, he said disappointedly, ‘But you, you fool, didn't dare to seize the moment... You didn't drag this sweetheart into your bed... She's so submissive, she would never have refused you!’

//‘You would never expect such vileness from me!’ I snorted indignantly.

//‘Why should it be vileness?’ The tailed creature was astonished. ‘How can you even speak of love in such a manner?’

//‘What are you talking about?’ I stared at the demon in confusion. ‘What does love have to do with this?’

//‘Are you saying you don't want to get your hands on this cutie?’ the imp asked slyly, narrowing his eyes.

//‘Well, I have a physical attraction to her, so what?’ I reluctantly admitted.

//"But that is precisely what a strong feeling of love is! – The imp declared instructively, jumping onto my shoulder and whispering cunningly in my ear: – Tell me, why do you resist the desire for possession that has taken hold of your soul? After all, mind is no help in matters of the heart... Cast aside all the prejudices that confuse you, and you will be surprised at how well everything will turn out..."

//‘Get out of my sight, you filthy scum!’ I exclaimed in my heart, realising what they were trying to get me to do.

//‘And which one of us is the coward?’ asked the imp, who had jumped onto my knee, sarcastically. ‘Me, or you, who is afraid to do a little earlier what will happen anyway? Because very soon this girl, no matter how cute she is, will get tired of waiting and will start seducing you herself!’

//‘That won't happen!’ I declared categorically. ‘Angel is a real lady and would never do such a thing!’

//‘Yes, it's a hard case...’ The imp scratched the back of his head with concern. ‘It seems you're seriously mistaking someone for an angel...’

//‘Maybe so,’ I shrugged, not wanting to argue with the imp. ‘And so far, I've had no reason to change my good opinion of Angel.’

//‘And even the fact that she's a murderer doesn't bother you?’ asked the imp, posing a cunning question.

//‘She's not a murderer, she just avenged the death of her relatives,’ I defended the golden-haired girl. ‘Otherwise, Angel is a good person.’ ‘She's not of this world at all... She's so wonderfully pure and trusting... All the filth of the world seems to wash off her, without staining her soul... And Angel is remarkably resilient... To survive such a tragedy in childhood and not become embittered towards the whole world, not become hardened in her soul...’

//‘Yes, the girl is clearly out of her mind,’ confirmed the horned one, misinterpreting my words completely.

//It's you out of your mind. I got angry at the imp who had knocked me off my lofty thoughts about Angel's spiritual appearance.

//‘Why me?’ he protested. "I wasn't the idiot who came up with the idea of initiating a child into the ritual of acquiring a taliar! No wonder she's inadequate! The connection between the owner and the taliar is, of course, very weak in the opposite direction, but the personalities of a little girl and a true shapeshifter who has lived for hundreds of years are incomparable! So what happened is what happened — she is not affected by people's deaths at all! For her, they are a matter of course! Like rain or snow!"

//‘I've never heard of a reverse effect of binding bonds,’ I said, looking sceptically at the tailed creature. ‘They only work one way...’

//‘And you should listen more to all kinds of fools, they'll tell you even more than that!’ snorted the imp, but he did not dwell on it and said conciliatorily: "Just think for yourself and put all the facts together. It's not for nothing that guardsmen and other soldiers undergo the ritual of acquiring the taliar as adults, even though they begin to learn the art of combat from childhood. Does that mean they're all donkeys? Everyone knows that children learn new skills much more easily and become more effective fighters. Why do they refuse such an enhancement?

//‘Yes, there is something to that,’ I pondered the arguments presented. And I shook my head: ‘But surely Angel's parents were aware of the danger threatening their child?’

‘Maybe they had no other choice?’ suggested the imp, climbing back onto my shoulder and whispering in my ear, his eyes darting towards Angel. ‘Listen, have you already come up with an excuse for your despicable betrayal of the Empire's interests? If not, I can help you think of something!’

//‘What are you babbling about, imp?’ I asked angrily, frowning. ‘What betrayal?’

//‘Don't tell me you haven't decided to save that lovely Angel yet!’ the imp winked conspiratorially. ‘You've seen what happens to people after just a couple of years on your glorious salt lakes, haven't you?’ He clicked his tongue admiringly. ‘It seems someone from our ranks must have suggested to your ruler the idea of setting up a penal colony there! What an amazing place it turned out to be! So terrifying that criminals who have been there once, when caught for new crimes, fight the guards with the ferocity of wild animals, just to avoid ending up on the lakes again!’

I couldn't help but glance at the lovely golden-haired girl, and I shuddered, imagining what hard labour would do to her. The image of Hannah Olwein, a terribly charming and attractive Kelm criminal who had managed to cut down the Head of the Second council, Eir Gator, popped into my mind. To be honest, I couldn't really appreciate her looks back then — I was too young when she was sent to hard labour. But the townspeople who knew her said she was very pretty. I remember another Hannah Olwein well — the one who was brought back from the salt lakes five years later. No one would have given that old woman, bent over by backbreaking labour, parched by the scorching sun, with a crazy look in her piercing blue eyes, her skin covered with unhealed ulcers and numerous scars, her twenty-five years... The Kelms gangsters quietened down for a couple of decades after that... They really did not want to repeat Hannah's fate.

I shot a nasty look at the tailed bastard and cursed under my breath. What a bloody devil! He knows exactly what to talk about to completely ruin the mood. He's deliberately trying to make my choice agonisingly difficult, even if it turns out that Angel really does serve Aquitaine. If it's possible to somehow justify the improper performance of my duties towards a girl entangled in problems, it's quite another matter to arrange the escape of a real criminal... It really is a betrayal... But it's no better than the heavy burden of knowing that, because of your connivance, the golden-haired girl is now slowly dying on the salt lakes... After all, it's unlikely that I'll ever be able to forget that I could have saved her from this fate...

Shaking my head to dispel the terrifying vision of Hannah Olweyn, who for some reason was looking at me with silent reproach in her eyes, I bit my lip in annoyance. Darkness... If only some Aquitanians had really attacked and freed this young lady! Although what's the point — they'll all be caught. With that Air element ornament around her neck, Angel would never be able to run far under any circumstances. Of course, I could try to help her get rid of it, but then the salt lakes would be waiting for me... Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to hide the circumstances of the case from the mentalist mages. The guards would conduct an investigation, and I'd be done for. Human memory is a reliable thing...

//‘Look, imp,’ an interesting idea flashed through my mind, ‘remember how you interpreted visual images? And you also helped me remember the image of Caitlin?’

/‘I don't forget anything!’ replied the imp importantly, and asked sarcastically, ‘Why do you need it? Do you want to remember what Angel looked like before she was sent to prison?’

//"No," I said, shaking my head, grimacing. "I want to know if you can not only preserve images, but also dispel them."

//"I can do that too," the horned one puffed up with pride. "I can cleanse your memory so much that it will become like a clean slate!"

//“No need!” I immediately refused, a little frightened by the prospect of completely losing my memory.

//"And what memories did you want to get rid of?" The imp inquired, rubbing his paws in anticipation. "What's so interesting in your memory that you're afraid to even keep it?"

//"I don't have any terrible secrets," I assured the imp. "There's no need to erase anything from my memories just yet. The main thing is that such a possibility still exists."

//"Aha, so you've finally decided to take on the task of rescuing the little angel!" The imp grinned contentedly. "And how are you thinking about covering your tracks?"

//"You should think about it too," I grumbled. "Otherwise, you'll be stuck in the same cell with me for about fifty years, without any entertainment."

//‘Why make something up?’ asked the imp, rubbing his snout vigorously. "Just run away with her, that's all. Are we going to save her for nothing? We have to make a profit from this!" And he whispered passionately, glancing at Angel: "Think about it yourself, the girl will be so grateful to you for saving her, so grateful! It would be foolish not to take advantage of this! Just don't be stupid! Give this naive girl a good talking-to right away, so that she feels indebted to you for the rest of her life! And then you can twist her around however you want!’

//"I'm not going to use the gratitude that Angel feels towards me for my own benefit!" I snapped angrily. "Is that clear, you filthy scum?!"

‘Then why save her at all?!’ cried the imp indignantly. ‘What's the point of all this fuss?’ After snorting a little, he lowered his voice slightly and asked insinuatingly: ‘Do you realise, you idiot, that you are turning down a wonderful opportunity not only to make this sweetheart Angel your lover, but also to gain a valuable assistant in your endeavours? He even shook with indignation. ’How are you going to hunt the dragon on your own, you fool?!"

//"Why would I need him if your plan is for Angel to become my lover?" I asked sarcastically. "Do you think one beauty won't be enough for me?"

//"One is good, but two are better!" snapped the imp, lashing his tail at himself, and then recalled: "And anyway, have you forgotten what you promised the demoness?"

//"I haven't forgotten," I muttered in response. "But I still won't use Angel!"

//You are such an idiot!’ declared the imp, adding: ‘Either you use others, or they use you! There are no other options!’

//‘We'll see what options there are and what there aren't!’ I said angrily.

“We’ll see!” the imp agreed, grinning.

Word for word, and I almost had a huge row with the filthy imp who decided to impose his vision of how to solve problems on me. The imp's ideas are exceptionally vile, despite being based on sound premises. And the bastard knows how to spoil everything so much that even the best of deeds no longer seem so good.

Overall, this scoundrel was satisfied. He didn't achieve his goal, but he disturbed my peace of mind and ruined my mood. And, settling on Angel's left shoulder, he grinned from there the whole way. And I looked at the golden-haired girl and indulged in joyless thoughts about what to do now and how to proceed...

It is unclear why the Secret Service decided that Angel was connected to the Aquitanians and killed the mayor of Kelm at their instigation. After all, Covan seems like a reasonable and judicious person; he could not have simply made this up. True, there is reason to believe that the young lady's actions were not ordinary revenge against her blood enemy, but a crime against the state... Perhaps I am wrong about Angel, and she is simply leading me on, a cunning hired killer... Maybe, maybe... I am not an expert on human nature. One thing puzzles me: why did she need to visit me after she had done her job? What real criminal, pursued by detectives, would waste precious moments of freedom just to say thank you to someone who once helped him? A naive girl with a pure soul might do that, but not a cunning mercenary, and that's the catch...

Unable to decide who Angel should be considered and how she should be treated, I concluded that I should probably wait before making a final verdict. Time will put everything in its place. Let's see what happens next. If Angel is not working for the Aquitanians, then there is no reason for them to rescue her from captivity.

The morning flew by unnoticed amid heavy thoughts. Closer to noon, we stopped at a roadside tavern that caught our eye, of which there were plenty along the Southern Route. And so we sat in the coolness of the hall for almost four hours, not wanting to go out into the scorching sun. As a result, we reached the next inn almost at dusk, when the blue glow emanating from a large glass ball mounted on a small tower rising above the tiled roof of a two-storey building became clearly visible.

Besides us, there were other guests at the inn: a large trading caravan travelling to the capital from Masher, and a stagecoach belonging to the Lagne brothers' transport company. So the hall was packed with people resting. But there was no problem finding free rooms. The same was true of the chained criminal, whom we escorted straight to the rented room. The guards chattered for a while, then calmed down. No one took the initiative to rescue the unfortunate girl from the clutches of her tormentors, the guards. Guarding caravans, these people had surely encountered bandits and thieves more than once, and therefore felt no sympathy for the villainess, no matter how charming she was.

I breathed a sigh of relief, realising that there would be no problems. The second day of the trip was much calmer than the first. No worries, no hassle. Just a country outing. And our vigilance and readiness to repel an attack were of no use – no one attacked us anyway.

This time, Angel didn't even pay attention to the fact that one of the beds in the room had been moved to the window. She didn't react at all. But Gert, the bastard, thinking I couldn't see him, smirked nastily and whispered something to Burim, who then laughed like a horse.

"Burim, Gert, stop laughing," I demanded. And, putting on a good-natured grin, I said, "I see you have nothing better to do? Then why don't you go around the entire inn and check that everything is alright?"

"What's the point of that?" Gert immediately became indignant.

"That's the order!" he snapped at him and commanded, "Let's go!"

Grumbling, the guards went to carry out the order. Thomas and Nick took their place at the door to the room occupied by me and Angel. But they didn't grin.

Meanwhile, I had dinner with the criminal, who had been freed from her shackles in honour of the occasion, and decided to continue our confidential conversation. I had so many questions for her that demanded answers.

"Tell me, Angel, where did you learn the art of close combat?" I began the conversation. "After all, such magical schools are few and far between. And even try getting into one... It's pretty much only government officials who study there."

"I was just lucky, Kar," the girl perked up. "It wasn't for nothing that our family friends sent me to Aquitaine. An old acquaintance of ours lives there, and she helped me hide from my pursuers. She provided me with protection. And when I grew up a little, she arranged for me to study at a special educational institution where she herself teaches. Because of her, the authorities made concessions regarding me. Where else could she take a child who was being hunted by hired assassins, if not with her? Everyone pretended that I wasn't studying there, but simply observing the other students, so I didn't need to prove my loyalty to Aquitaine or obtain citizenship."

“You really were lucky,” I agreed and asked, “And what kind of magic school is this? Maybe I’ve heard of it?”

"No, I don't think so," Angel shook her head. "They don't really teach mages there... Although they do work with them, too. It's a very small, closed educational institution. They train specialists in intelligence and sabotage work."

“What?!” I choked on the sweet wine I had the misfortune to taste at that moment.

"Well, people who are engaged in obtaining strategically important information about the enemy's available forces, routes of movement, and planned operations. They also undermine the enemy's combat power by sabotaging communication lines, eliminating military leaders, and other activities that contribute to the loss of the enemy's combat effectiveness," the girl said, hesitating at first, then rattled off as if from a script.

"Who is this old friend of your family who can get a completely random person into such a place?!" My surprise broke through my stupefaction.

"I told you, she teaches there," Angel explained patiently. "Principles of intelligence infiltration."

"So, everyone took such action by one of the teachers calmly and, without any stipulations, like a lifetime contract, allowed you to remain in an educational institution, to put it mildly, inaccessible to mere mortals?" I asked incredulously, having recovered somewhat.

"Yes, that's how it was," nodded the lady. "No one demanded anything from me. Only Maria made me promise that I would not act on my own and would only go after my parents' killer when she considered me sufficiently prepared to carry out my revenge."

//"What a sweet little naivete!" The imp, grinning cheerfully as he watched our conversation from the windowsill, grinned. "It's just a joy to fool someone like that!"

"So, a few days ago, this Maria decided you were ready?" I asked Angel, ignoring the horned one.

"Yes," she confirmed. "And she helped me hire assistants for this task and get to Kelm without any hassle."

"So kind a viper!" I couldn't help exclaiming when I realised that the imp was right about Angel's naivety. Her old family friends had played a dirty trick on her! And sent her to her death.

"Why are you like this, Kar?" the girl protested, not understanding the meaning of my exclamation. "Do you think she was supposed to somehow deceive me and keep me from taking revenge? Only then would she be a good person?" And, shaking her head, Angel declared decisively: "No, Maria acted honorably!"

"Yes, indeed, it couldn't be more honorable!" I couldn't resist making a sarcastic remark.

"Perhaps we should end this conversation here," the lady said coldly, holding out her hands to me. "I want to sleep."

“As you wish,” I shrugged and, silently cursing my lack of restraint, shackled the criminal.

Then I waited until Angel had settled into bed, latched the window shutters, and collapsed onto my own. Entrusting the demon to keep an eye on the golden-haired girl, I closed my eyes. But sleep wouldn't come. It was a shame to have made such a fool of myself... Of course, Angel was offended by my remarks about that vile Maria, after all, that viper, having looked after the orphan since childhood, pretended to be a kind aunt. And she fooled the child. Now Angel won't believe anyone who says anything bad about her teacher-benefactor. It will be hard to convince her otherwise...

Rolling over, I rubbed my forehead furiously. What if Angel wasn't a naive girl, tricked into taking advantage of the Aquitaine people? Maybe she graduated with honors from that same intelligence and sabotage school and is exceptionally skilled at gaining trust?

After struggling for about an hour and still not having decided anything, I fell asleep without noticing it.

For the curator

The day passed quietly, with no sign of the Aquitaine stirring. The route remains unchanged. The atmosphere within the detachment is calm and stable. However, it becomes apparent that the foreman is openly attracted to Lady Angele. Consequently, he interprets the established rules for the treatment of prisoners too liberally, thereby creating favorable conditions for the criminal's escape.

Ferret.

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP