Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Story 2. Someone who doesn't belong here

Behind the fence, the group split up. Most of the gifts, including the cage with the lizard, were sent somewhere deep into the palace. The baron's men stayed with the wagons. Then Governor Tarakatos set off, accompanied only by Carlon, Valria, and a couple of servants. The servants carried on silver trays covered with cloth those gifts that the governor of the overseas colony planned to present to the duke personally. A detachment of twelve palace guards met the guests at the gate, led them through the square and the corridors of the residence. On marble stairs and carpeted passages they climbed to the very roof of the palace complex, to the carved double doors. An officer in a gilded breastplate, who was waiting near the doors, stepped towards them and held out his hand. Having accepted the swords of the Baron and Valria, he also silently bowed and stepped aside. Two of his subordinates opened the doors, and the guests finally entered the throne room, leaving their escorts outside.

The ensuing ceremonial bows Carlon performed, repeating after Valria — the captain knew the etiquette decently. Fortunately, for the military, the rules of etiquette were common, and the combat magician was equated in status with an officer. Having made all the necessary bows, getting down on one knee and rising again with the permission of the duke, the master looked around not without interest, trying not to turn his head too obviously. The oblong throne room was illuminated by two rows of arched stained-glass windows. Guards and servants lined up along the walls through one. At the far end of the hall, His Highness the Duke of Elvart, Gustav the Seventh, sat on a simple, low throne. He was a lean, bald man who looked younger than his fifty years. Carlon remembered that during the war the duke personally led plate cavalry to attack, and was even wounded by a bullet in the thigh, although by luck he did not go limp. Behind him were two men. The master knew the stately, gray-bearded old man in a white caftan — he was Master Friedrich, the archmage, adviser and personal doctor of the ruling family. Carlon was much more interested in the second — a heavy bearded man in silver armor. He could not be anything but a ducal guard. In Elvart, as in the Empire, the personal guard of the ruler was formed in a very complicated way. When the heir to the throne was three years old, fifty orphans of the same sex and age were selected throughout the country. In subsequent years, they grew up with the heir, passing through the strictest selection and the most difficult training. Too weak, too stupid, too self-willed, too proud, simply not converging in character with the heir, left the palace. When the heir came of age, the rest took an oath of allegiance to him and became guardsmen. The future ruler received a small, but well-trained and fanatically loyal group of bodyguards who could both protect him personally and lead other guards. This system sometimes failed, but still, in the eyes of those around them, the guardsmen remained very unusual people. In fact, they were the embodied will of the crown bearer — after all, they, in theory, did not have their own desires and interests. Now Gustav the Seventh had only three guardsmen left — some of the guards died on the fields of the last war, others were not spared by age. His daughter and heiress, Princess Christina, was guarded by eight girls who had already taken an oath several years ago.

— And now, Your Highness, with permission, I would like to present the trophies obtained by my soldiers in the settlements of the Ludrian savages. — It was evident that Baron Tarakatos had lost the habit of court ceremonies, and was burdened by them no less than Carlon. Barely waiting for permission, he gestured for the servants. They stepped forward, pulled the cloth off the trays. Kneeling down, they put the trays in front of them. Gold glittered on silver. About a dozen fine gold jewelry — necklaces, rings, pendants. Golden figurine of a man with diamond eyes. Several bone figurines of animals, as if intertwined with gold wire.

— And this is the work of savages? — the duke asked with more curiosity than doubt. — I've heard rumors that they're skilled with gold, but I didn't think they were that good.

— It is true, your highness, — the baron bowed his head. — Forest barbarians don't know how to forge iron, they wear skins and make weapons out of stone. But their craftsmen process the precious metal no worse than the imperial goldsmiths. Some tribal leaders told me that this art was taught to them by a mysterious people living in the depths of the mainland, in cities where even the walls of houses are covered with gold plates.

— I suppose you wished to verify their words, Baron? — Gustav waved his hand with a smile. Two young pages took the trays from the servants of Tarakatos, brought them to the throne.

— Alas, now it is impossible — said the governor, without raising his head. — It takes an entire army, well-equipped and trained, to pass through the damp forests of Ludria. I hope to receive it from the emperor. In addition, our settlements on the offshore islands are constantly threatened by Coalition ships. If a...

The baron failed to reach an agreement. There was a sound that Carlon did not expect to hear in the throne room of the ducal palace. The sound of breaking glass. A round hole had formed in one of the stained-glass windows to the left of the magician. A small cylinder that flew into it fell exactly in the middle of the hall. And exploded. A white flash hit the master's eyes, a deafening thunder screwed right into his ears ... And then it became quiet and dark.

The life path of a combat mage includes a lot of not very pleasant things. No experienced soldier experiences as many different painful sensations as a magician, even if he has never been injured. Simply put, Carlon already had a wealth of experience with shell shock, temporary blindness and partial deafness. Feelings began to return quickly enough. First, the master realized that he was lying on the carpet, and the pile was digging into his cheek. Then he saw this carpet — red, with yellow stripes. Iridescent halos flashed before his eyes, but in general, vision worked. In the ears, the silence was replaced by a ringing, but the master decided that for now, his vision would be enough. With a groan, he got up on all fours and sat down. He slowly moved his head left and right — for some reason it turned out to be easier to move his head than his eyes. Guards, servants, guests were lying side by side around... Only one person was on his feet. Which was not in the throne room before the explosion. A tall man in a gray suit streaked with black, wearing a woven mask with slits for the eyes. With a confident step, as if in no hurry, he approached the throne, on which the duke was limp. Carlon opened his mouth to shout, to divert the stranger's attention to himself — but he did not hear his own voice. The masked man approached Gustav VIII, took out a wide dagger with a blued blade from the sheath on his belt, hit the ruler in the neck. With three skillful blows, he separated the head from the body, threw it to the floor. With the same quick, but not hasty step, he went to the broken window, through which, obviously, he got inside. Carlon noticed movement behind the throne. Master Friedrich rose to his knees, shouted something, silently gaping his mouth, threw both hands forward. The killer was enveloped in a translucent cocoon — the archmage only by an effort of will, without the help of a magic item, created a powerful protective field around him. The masked man paused for a second. And then he took a step and just walked out of the transparent prison, as if it had never existed. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw the dagger exactly at the master's throat. Jumped up on the windowsill. He grabbed onto something, probably a very thin rope. And slid down.

Carlon's ears popped, hearing returned to him — although the ringing did not disappear. The people around also came to their senses. The Duke's Guard was the first to stand up, staggering over to the headless corpse on the throne, falling to his knees in front of him. The guards and pages, rising, also hastened to the body of the duke, one by one. Carlon did not join them. Instead, he rushed over to Valria, stretched out on the floor to her full height. The golden-haired elf did not moan, did not try to get up. She lay on her back perfectly still, her wide violet eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Squatting next to her on his haunches, the master raised his hand to the girl's half-open lips. He felt the faint warmth of her breath and calmed down a little. Elven hearing is much finer than human hearing. The explosion, which deprived people of consciousness, could have killed the elf. Or cripple — but the magician did not notice that blood was flowing from Valria's ears. Of course, until she came to her senses, it's too early to rejoice, but it seems that everything went without injuries. Carlon closed the girl's eyes, wincing inwardly — before he had only done this with the dead. Whispered:

— Don't you dare die. You still owe money for the bath.

The high doors opened and the throne room filled with soldiers in a blink of an eye. The guards, armed with short halberds, took the mage and the elf into the ring — as, indeed, Baron Tarakatos and his servants. Carlon looked around at them with a wry, helpless grin, asked:

— Can I first call the doctor, and then go to the dungeon?...

* * *

It didn't get to the dungeon. The visitors of the ill-fated audience were divided. Valria was taken somewhere on a stretcher, while Carlon was locked in a room with a single barred window, the decoration of which looked more like a rich living room than a prison cell. There the master languished in ignorance for two hours, until a modestly dressed official visited him. The official did not introduce himself, but his indifferent eyes and confident demeanor indicated that he was an interrogating officer of the secret police. Professionally shaking out of Carlon everything that he saw during the attack on the throne room, the official left. However, after a couple of minutes, the heavy oak door swung open again. Holding her hand on the scabbard of her sword, a very tall, fit girl in a blue uniform and silver armor of the ducal guard crossed the threshold. Looking at her swarthy skin, face with high sharp cheekbones, short jet-black hair and transparent yellow, lynx-like eyes, Carlon was ready to bet that this was a countrywoman in front of him. How did she get carried from the southern steppes to the other end of the mainland, and even in early childhood?

— Master Carlon. — The girl gave the magician a rather unfriendly look. Her yellow eyes made her look truly frightening — the master felt a chill in his chest. — Follow me.

The sentries guarding the luxurious chamber remained at their post — the black-haired warrior was the only accompanying master. Carlon wasn't sure what that meant. Either he was already trusted, or one guard was enough to stop an escape attempt, even made by an experienced battle mage. The master leaned towards the first option — the black-haired woman simply walked in front, although holding her palm on the sword, but calmly exposing her defenseless back and the back of her head to him. Carlon noted to himself that the guards girls used lighter armor — instead of full armor, his companion wore only a light cuirass with smooth shoulder pads and steel gloves with elbow-length bracers. However, Carlon knew that it was possible to supplement the armor with leg protection quickly.

Their path was short and ended at an unremarkable door. The girl with lynx eyes opened it, pushed the magician inside, slammed the shutter behind him, remaining in the corridor. The first feeling that the master experienced was relief. The room he was shoved into turned out to be the guest bedroom, and he saw Valria on the comfortable, soft bed. The elf, covered with a white blanket to the waist, was half-sitting, slipping a pillow under her back, and talking about something ... with Princess Christina, who was sitting in an armchair near the bed. At the sight of the heir to the throne, the magician froze. Then he hastily bowed from the waist:

— Your Highness! My condolences...

He wasn't sure if the bow was the right one in such a situation, but the princess just smiled sadly at him:

— Thanks to. I would like to say "good afternoon" to you, venerable master, but alas, the day is not at all good. Sit down.

She pointed to an empty chair at the head of the bed. Carlon obediently sat down. He stared at the princess, but then he caught himself, turned his gaze to Valria.

— Her ladyship and I have agreed on something here, — the captain told him, deliberately raising her voice.

— Don't joke, Lady Valria, — the princess scolded her. — My personal healer assured me that he got your ears in perfect order.

There was hidden metal in this soft request, and the elf obeyed instantly. She explained in a different tone:

— I convinced her ladyship that I could be of service to her. And I signed up for something. I would very much like to sign you, but, of course, only with your consent.

— Let me guess. — The master looked up at Christina. The princess had recently turned twenty-four, but Carlon would have lied, calling the girl beautiful. She was too much like her father — square features, a massive jaw, a large nose. But in it, without a doubt, paternal willpower was felt.

— You guessed it, you guessed it. — Valria interrupted him, fiddling with the edge of the blanket with her fingers. — I want to find this bastard.

— And I allowed the captain to participate in the investigation, — the princess nodded. — Lady Valria and I have never had anything in common before, but we have long had... shall we say, common acquaintances. This... general acquaintance allows me to rate the captain's reliability very highly. The whole secret police will search for the father's killer, and we will turn to the Empire for help. However, I will be glad if a person whom I personally absolutely trust is involved in the investigation. Alas, in the palace of these — only my guardsmen. They are nice girls, one and all, and would not hesitate to die for me, but they understand only the organization of protection. Lady Valria has experience with this sort of thing. And she spoke positively about you. Will you help her with the investigation?

— Your Grace, I cannot refuse. — Carlon rose to bow again. He really couldn't refuse. A polite request from such an important person is tantamount to an order.

— Please accept my thanks. — Christina got up. — All the necessary information will be provided to you, as well as admission to the palace. And, of course, your time will be paid in gold. However, if you want some other reward...