CHAPTER 1
This was not a pleasant morning for Namestnik.
POSHLA NAHUI, STARAYA VYEDMA! OUT OF MY WAY, I SAID!
He was moving through the crowd towards the central square, using his massive body as a battering ram against the gapers.
The ruckus began around 15 minutes ago, somewhere not far from Namestnik’s cottage. When he recognized the sounds of swordfight coming from the square, he immediately left to investigate, but the crowd was faster – just as usual. When he finally reached the destination, the fight was over.
Uncontrollable anger aroused inside Dmitry as he was looking at dead bodies lying around the statue of Tsar Boguslav. Last month he received a hefty sum of gold from Kaznachei in order to recruit mercenaries, and put an end to rebellions in nearby provinces. Asking mercenary bands from Arcoscephale and T’ien Ch’i to work together was probably a bad idea.
What in the name of Kurgi have you done?!
These filthy barbarians cannot follow even the simplest orders! They know nothing of discipline, formations, tactical appr…
Silence, dog! A proud warrior of the steppes will never obey some lowly city-dweller like you! Go home and hide behind your woman’s skirt! Or maybe you prefer boys, you…
As the mercenaries were about to attack each other again, Namestnik’s roaring voice called for city guards, and commanded to throw all troublemakers in jail.
* * *
If I understand you correctly, Dmitry… The mercenaries didn’t have our gold on them.
R-right, Vashe Sviateishestvo. I-I mean, Your Holiness.
Namestnik was always nervous and sweating when he spoke to the Patriarch.
Apparently, they stashed it somewhere, or maybe even spent every single coin already. The main question is: can they still fight?
I… I’m afraid not, Your Holiness. Most of them either died during the fight, or succumbed to their wounds right after that. Those who survived are not fit for battle. Ahem. If I may…
That’s enough, Dmitry.
The Patriarch looked at the other attendants of the meeting. There weren’t many: Kaznachei Yuri, Ambassador Boris, Royal Spy Katrina, Namestnik Dmitry and the Patriarch himself.
Tell me Yuri, do we have enough gold in the treasury to recruit another mercenary band?
Hardly so, Your Holiness. We’ve spent all the taxes gathered for the past three months. If only we trusted them to competent Veliky Knyaz instead of this chyort Dmitry.
WATCH YOUR TONGUE, SMERD!
ENOUGH.
Ambassador’s voice, always confident and imposing, was perfectly suited to calm down emotional bursts, which happened frequently during these kinds of meetings.
We don’t have the time to gather more taxes and wait for new mercenary bands to arrive. I’ve heard troubling rumors about our neighbors.
Ambassador! I am almost offended!
Katrina stepped forward, winking at Boris, speaking playfully.
If you plan to investigate rumors, I risk losing my post. Is it about Bu-Ti?
You mean Pantokrator’s wife?
Indeed. They say that she proclaimed herself as the new God, and Barbarian Kings of T’ien Ch’I are currently gathering around her. Is it true, Katrina?
Just a bit exaggerated, but true nonetheless. T’ien Ch’I’s state of affairs isn’t much different from our own. Much like Velikie Knyazi, their Barbarian Kings are dissolved and disordered. Unfortunately, that’s just a minor drop of water falling from the storm clouds above us.
What do you mean?
Seems like Rasputin was right in his predictions of the events to come. Soon every major power of the world will claim their rights on Pantokrator’s Thrones of Ascension. Midgard, Pangaea, Ulm, Atlantis, Arcoscephale, Jomon, Gath, Pythium, T’ien Ch’i – they will all engage into bloody wars between each other. The Ascension Wars.
The Divine Laws cannot be disputed. Whoever possesses at least five Thrones of Ascension, shall become the Supreme Ruler of the realm. The new Pantokrator.
The Supreme Ruler? I can almost understand why those pretentions Arcoscephale or power-hungry Pythium might consider themselves Pretenders. Their conceit and egocentrism had clouded last bits of common sense long time ago. But how can a “nation” like Atlantis possibly claim rights for Pantokrator’s Thrones?
You will be surprised, my dear Ambassador. Carax. Have you ever heard that name?
No. Thankfully, I didn’t have to negotiate with Atlantis during my civil service. I’ve never even considered them a nation.
Let your good friend Katrina fill you in then. Carax is another Pretender that is currently attempting to unite people of Atlantis under his rule. Before claiming himself a God, he was basically a librarian.
WHAT?! EBUCHI SHAKAL!
I see. You are telling me, the Amabassador of Bogarus, that I will have to accept some librarian as a diplomatic equal at some point?
Exactly.
Yuri poured himself a glass of vodka.
When you are the only one capable of reading and writing in the entire nation, you might as well call yourself a God of these people! Cheers!
Dmity couldn't resist a smirk.
Boris, Katrina, Yuri. Enough small talk. Now that we have an understanding of the current situation, we must reclaim lost provinces and unite our people under the Tserkov’s teachings. We must not allow this heresy to spread. None of it!
We can use the city guard. Namestnik, what do we have availiable?
We have nothing. Not even enough to uphold the order here, in the city. Just a bunch of Vois and Peshtsi.
If we send them out to nearby provinces, we might lose the capital itself. Besides, the rebels have been growing stronger. If we even hope to succeed, we need at least…
Forty men.
Sudden rough, raspy voice from the shadows caught everyone by surprise. Only now did the attendants notice a tall motionless figure standing in the far corner, watching the meeting silently.
Grigori. How long have you been here?
I am always somewhere nearby, Alexej.
The two elders looked up and down at each other for some moments. Nobody dared to interrupt their conversation.
You need forty men, for a start. Others will join our cause as soon as the blood of sinners starts to flow.
Our cause? I am not sure I follow.
I don’t have that many in any case.
Rasputin raised his hand, calling for silence.
I will take care of all necessary arrangements. All I need from you, Alexej, is one man of high standing in Tserkov. One of your Eparchs preferably, to accompany Sviatoslav and his warband.
Who trusted forty men to you, Grigori? Knyaz Chetverti? I doubt he even has that many. So who was it?
Rasputin smiled. The expression on his face became even more sinister.
Countess Elizabeth Bathory.