Novel 3. The Last Autumn

— Who owns this port, anyway? — The mage asked, turning his gaze to the rows of ships that lined the shore. — Which clan?

— No one, — Armando replied. — Innoto is the capital of the Republic. The city and the surrounding lands are governed directly by the Senate. The soldiers of the Republican army and sailors of the navy are recruited from here. No clan has the right to station private troops here, and the locals are very proud of their status as guardians of the balance. The taiko chancellor's residence and the senate palace stand here. You get the picture. A neutral harbour for the peaceful resolution of internal disputes. Nine-tenths of political murders in the Erdo Islands occur here.

Soon a pilot boat approached the "Elena". It guided the caravel to a vacant pier, where a harbour official was waiting for her. A fat Erdosian, whose top was adorned with a tiny square cap, boarded the ship, accompanied by a couple of soldiers and a scribe. He was met by the navigator. The black-haired elfess bowed ceremoniously to the guest, said some polite words, and led him to the superstructure.

— All right, lords and ladies, Elena will take care of the formalities, and I will go to fulfil my promise, — the skipper told the passengers, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt for some reason. — Before the moon rises, you'll be invited to a conversation. Be ready.

— Thank you, Captain. But I must go ashore to send a letter, — said the mage. — The sooner the better.

— So let's go, — Armando shrugged. — I haven't been here myself, but I have a rough idea of where the "CommStar" station should be. Let's go together.

— Just like that? — The mage raised his eyebrows. — The search is still in progress.

— You don't often travel by sea, do you? — The pointy-eared skipper chuckled rumblingly. — Customs are only interested in our cargo. As long as you go on land without a crate on your shoulders, they don't care about you. Go wherever you want, but make it quick. Make it an hour or two.

— What was the letter? — de Gorazzo asked the magician as the two of them stepped onto the stones of the pier. — Or is it a private matter?

— No, not private at all. — The mage glanced around quickly, making sure they weren't overheard by some random loader. — Valria decided that since we're not going home yet, we should at least pass on the information we've gathered, the most important. Maria's compiled an encrypted message that looks like a regular business letter. It should be sent to the northern archipelago. An agent of the Ducal Intelligence will receive it there and forward it to the right place.

— Clever, — Armando admitted. — Are there no spies of the Empire in the Republic? They could help us.

— The Empire might have spies. — Mater sighed. — Only no one told us about them. The Duchy of Elvart hasn't.

It wasn't difficult to find the "CommStar" building, and Armando only had to ask for directions a couple of times. The post office itself was an incredible relic of a bygone era. Once upon a time, a network of postal stations had entangled the entire continent, cementing the unity of Ancient Daert. The collapse of the Empire had torn that network to shreds, but fragments of it had been reborn time after time, either by the forces of new states or by the labours of enterprising individuals. In the Eastern Empire the state post office survived; in the Coalition the closest thing to its glory was the "CommStar" Company, founded jointly by Iolian bankers and Erdos merchants. By entrusting a parcel to the "Star", it was hoped that it would find its destination as soon as possible. And that the breadcrumbs in the parcel would not be eaten on the way.

The post office was housed in a solid stone building whose fa"ade was styled as a Daertian portico with columns. A white marble statue depicting a beautiful young girl in a man's travelling dress adorned the pediment. With one hand the girl was pulling back the hood of a short cloak from her head, and with the other she was holding the strap of a mailbag slung over her shoulder. Passing under the archway, Don de Gorazzo bowed his head. Royal bailiffs, even former ones, always paid homage to Saint Violetta, the patron saint of postmen, messengers, and honest travellers hurrying on important business. It was surprisingly crowded inside for such a late hour — Armando and Carlon had to take a place in the queue. However, it was more the fact that the only sleepy clerk was taking letters in the evening. Looking round in boredom, the don couldn't help smiling. The ceiling of the reception hall shone with gilded amulets, and in the corners were Erdosian "spirit houses" designed to trap the wicked. With the statue of a saint on the gable, it harmonised marvellously. The islanders had accepted the teachings of the One without difficulty, but had managed to fuse them with their native pagan rites. The abysses of the sea were in no hurry to swallow the Republic, so the One apparently had nothing against it.

— Master, do you feel magic here? — Armando asked.

— Of course. — The mage nodded to the far end of the hall. — Behind that wall must be a vault. There are several amulets at once — against dampness, against rodents....

— And those things on the ceiling and in the corners?

— Just jewellery. — Master scratched his beard and said, — Armando, how do you feel... in the squad?

— Better than a couple of months ago, — Don replied after a short hesitation. — So what?

— Are you able to take the lead when needed?

— What do you mean? — De Gorazzo was wary.

— You see... Our company is neither a ducal army nor an imperial legion. — The mage glanced at Armando, grinning lightly. — Valria is captain, of course, but that's because she's the biggest pain in the arse. It's our tradition that the one who understands the current situation best leads the squad. When it comes to dealing with magical problems, everyone listens to me, when it comes to sneaking through enemy territory, all listens to Valria. Do you understand?

— I think so.

— I have a feeling, Don, that in the current situation, the reins should be handed over to you. You have a good grasp of the realities here, and you're more... diplomatic. We won't need your skills as a tracker or warlord for a while. It's time for a judicial officer.

— Master, you want me... to lead the company? — Armando couldn't believe it.

— Well, no, of course not. Just feel free to be the first to speak up, to suggest plans, to put forward ideas. Everyone else will listen to you, I promise.

— Even Captain Valria? — The don couldn't hold back a smile.

— Well, except for Valria. — Carlon grinned back. — Just kidding, she knows how to appreciate other people's skills. I wouldn't be working with her otherwise. How so?

— I... have to think about it.

— Think, but quickly. — The queue moved forward, and the mage drew a letter from his jacket pocket and patted it against his palm. — The respite is over, Don.

The bearded mage was right. They returned to the docks at first light, and Sergeant Dallan met the men at the dock. She said briefly: "We have visitors," and gestured to the superstructure. The Imperial mage and the former bailiff went straight to the captain's cabin, where they found the skipper in the company of the other passengers and two well-dressed Erdosians.

— Here are the last of them, — said the master of the caravel. — Don, master, meet the gentlemen from the Irutava clan. Right now they will escort you to the clan residence to meet the official.

— We are honoured. — Armando bowed quickly — not too deeply, though. The unfamiliar Erdosians were probably smallfolk. Master Carlon followed suit. — And you, Skipper, accept our thanks. Couldn't have asked for better.

— Irutava is, after all... — the mage began, straightening up.

— Yes. It's the surname of the current taiko of the Republic, — Armando nodded. — A man to whom we can tell many, many interesting things...

Chapter 10

"I dined at the same with the queen," Armando kept telling himself as he paced the winding streets of Innoto at night. — "I've screwed over an entire baron. I slept in a necromancer's house. At night. Why would I be nervous now?". And then he remembered why — the queen wasn't the most conventional, and the adventure with the baron had eventually led him here. Sometimes it wasn't very helpful to be honest with oneself. The former royal bailiff was hot and cold, and he furtively wiped the sweat from his face.

Three of them — Armando, Carlon and Maria — went to the negotiations. Meanwhile, the rest of them were settling in the harbour hotel. No one chased them off the "Elena", but Captain Valria preferred to spend the night on land. The "embassy" was accompanied by the navigator and sailors, laden with a long boarded crate. The contents of the box, as well as the composition of the group was determined by Don de Gorazzo, albeit with the consent of the golden-haired elf. He also drew up the general strategy of the future conversation, having calculated what trump cards the company could use. And it meant, among other things, that in case of failure of negotiations he would be blamed too.

— Without my charm, you'll have a hard time, — Valria admonished her companions from the doorway of the inn. The captain was already able to stand unaided, but Sergeant Dallan loomed nearby, ready to pick up her commander. — But you'll do fine. The three of you have the charisma of half of me, so you should be fine. Just smile all the time and bow more often. I hear the Erdos like that.

The island capital of the Republic was very different from the Virian cities on the continent. The buildings here were made of grey stone, the high roofs with curved corners covered with dark tiles. There were hardly any trees along the streets. At dusk, the harbour seemed sullen, like a cawing crow hiding from the rain among the bare branches. De Gorazzo was even grateful to his escort for leading guests almost at a run, giving them no time to look around. The Irutava clan's capital mansion stood near the waterfront, a massive, three-story structure enclosed by a sturdy wall. Skipper Dorlt was a trusted man, and his daughter was a familiar face to the local guards, as the soldiers greeted her separately as they let visitors through the gates.

— You can't have private troops stationed in the capital, yes? — Master Carlon asked Armando. — Those blue bears on their shells are the clan emblem, aren't they?

— Well, none of the clan leaders would come here without personal protection, — the former bailiff said quietly. — Bodyguards and residence guards don't count.

The navigator Elena remained in the courtyard, together with the sailors and the crate. The mercenaries were searched without much effort, their weapons were taken away, and they were taken to the office on the first floor, where a young man dressed in a blue dressing gown embroidered with gold was waiting for them. He sat on a soft ottoman with his legs tucked up and tapped a rhythm with his finger on the top of a low round table. Behind him, two men — a warrior in full armour and a woman in a simple but neat dress stood as statues. A belt with many purses suggested that she was not a servant, but a house mage.

Don de Gorazzo bowed at once, without waiting for his master to speak. The mage and the guardswoman, instructed beforehand, repeated after him.

— Greetings to the guests of my house. — The man in blue stifled a yawn and tilted his head slightly at the sight of them. Apparently, it was just the right amount of politeness for a visitor of such status. — I am Irutawa Kero, ninth son of the clan leader and taiko of the Republic, Irutawa Ryuu. You will speak with me.

Sir Kero gestured for the guests to sit down. There were no chairs in the study, but there were three pouffes lined up in front of the desk. Master Carlon took the left one, and Lady Maria chose the right one. Don de Gorazzo took the middle one and found himself face to face with the Chancellor's son. The Erdosian caught Armando's gaze and held it for a few seconds before continuing:

— Skipper Dorlt, son of Nirlt, whose word carries great weight among the merchants, and his daughter Elena, whose honesty is widely known, have informed me that you are mercenaries who have learnt something of importance to my clan. And that they themselves have witnessed unusual events. May I hear the details here and now?

— Yes, sir. — Armando swallowed, but did not dare to wipe the sweat from his forehead again. The first key moment had come, here, at the very beginning of the conversation. If you don't win the interest of your interlocutor at once, all other plans will become meaningless. — We are a mercenary unit. We've been hired to counter a certain group of people. In the course of our fight, we learn that this group has formed an alliance with one of the Republic's merchant clans. In exchange for providing a base and resources, this group promises to help the clan lead the country. We thought it would be logical to turn to you. After all, it would be in your best interest to prevent such a thing from happening.

— Which clan are we talking about? — Kero-san tilted his head to his shoulder. He still looked a little sleepy and bored.

— Tagawa.

— Yeah, well, who else would. — Taiko's son chuckled. — The Princes of Iron... And you say they've taken in another mercenary squad? What kind of people are these that can threaten an entire clan? Mercenary assassins?

— Not exactly, sir. These aren't just mercenaries. — Armando inhaled deeply, feeling drops of sweat chill his forehead. The former magistrate could have held back his emotions better, but he didn't think he needed to. Visible excitement was appropriate now. — Our enemies are dangerous not only and not so much with their skills. They possess... very unusual capabilities. We have brought with us some of the spoils taken from these people. With your permission, I'll demonstrate one.

At Armando's sign, Lady Maria handed him a flat black-and-yellow box, one end of which was covered with a thin transparent glass. When the girl took out the strange object, the man in armour and the woman mage took a step forward. The warrior put his palm on the hilt of his sword, the mage slightly spread her hands apart. Silver rings glittered on her fingers, no doubt enchanted.

— It's not a weapon. — Don de Gorazzo clicked a square button on the side of the box. The glass window emitted a beam of bright white light.

— An unusual shape for a magic lamp, of course... — sir Kero stretched out disappointedly, leaning back. The female mage suddenly dropped to her knees beside him, whispering something in his ear. The Chancellor's son's face changed. He stared glumly at the object in Armando's hands. Catching the don's gaze again, he asked: