“Show Mr. Woollis into the house,” Karl said calmly after a couple of seconds, looking at Christian, who was frozen in the distance. - And bring water and my first aid kit ... Everything is in order.

  Leah opened her eyes and tried to raise her hand. Her own body still seemed alien to her and was hard to obey.

Sitting heavily on the plank floor, Carl helped her sit up and gently hugged her.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Hamali,” he said quietly without turning around. Thank you for taking care of my sister. Nice to meet you. 

  "Will she be all right?" Mark asked dully, shifting from foot to foot.

  - Yes, yes, it's a common faint. Don't worry.

  “Then I should probably go.

  - All the best. Without looking at him, Carl took Leah by the hand and froze for a moment, measuring her pulse. The anxiety in his eyes slowly faded, giving way to fatigue. “I haven’t run like this in a long time, Veterok. Leaning down, he lightly touched her forehead with his lips. - Scared. 

  Taking a deep breath, she rose carefully, trying not to lean on his arm. Bama trotted past, pressing his belly to the floor. Behind him, disdainfully kicking the wet rug with his foot, causing him to fly out of the threshold and onto the steps, Christian came out. Silently passing the first-aid kit to his brother, he went down and went to the gate: leaving, Mark did not close it.

  “You'd better lie down for a bit,” nodding urgently towards the door, Karl waited and added: “I had a little trouble. One of the passengers died on the spot, drugs were found in his blood, so the police had questions. 

  – Did you know him? - Obediently stepping inside, Leah took off her shoes and found slippers with her foot. 

  Karl shook his head.

  - No. Random companion.

  Shuddering, Leah looked with fear at the bruise on his forehead and, biting her lip, said nothing. 

  “Don't worry, the bandage just slipped,” his brother said calmly and pushed her towards the bedroom. “Go, I’ll finish my business and we’ll talk.” I won't go anywhere else without you, I promise.

  Nodding, Leah greeted Vullis, who was sitting on the couch, sparingly and hurried to her room. She needed to calm down. 

*  * *

  Throwing back the blanket, Yakir stood up with a jerk and pulled on his boots, which had been cleaned the day before. The smoothed white camisole hanging on a chair seemed gray in the semi-darkness, and the blue stripes running along the sleeves were mourning black. 

It was quiet around. Through the translucent curtains between the trestle beds, the cloudy dawn seeped into the whitewashed plank floor. There were still almost two hours left before morning training, and the officers, tired after a series of exams, slept so soundly that they did not hear either the low bell rumble that raised the junior link to classes, or the desperate cock cries that came from the chicken coop located in the kitchen yard.

Stealthily approaching the door, Yakir opened the left sash and slipped out of the bedroom. 

  - And again Vallor. - Seeing Yakir, the handbrake on duty grinned maliciously and reached for the penalty book tucked into his belt. “I can see how you like it, Your Highness, to scrub the stables. Apparently, hereditary: after all, Varut is only famous for this.

  Glancing briefly at the wide arched corridor, Yakir stopped and, crossing his arms, looked thoughtfully at the officer on duty. Rivmani, a frail, lanky officer, was seven years older than him and graduated from the last step last fall, remaining in the rank of reserve handbrake [1] , therefore, he could no longer rise above the warden or "nanny", as they were called, without a special order. And apparently he didn't want to.

  “You should be more careful, Rivmani,” Yakir warned. “We are all equal here, but life does not end behind the walls of Gorgoth. I can actually remember.

  “Me too,” the officer grinned. “Come on, twist the horses’ tails for three days, maybe you’ll become more polite.”

  - This is a violation of the rules, do not exceed your authority.

  - You left the building before the wake-up call, I can assign any punishment, - the handbrake shrugged. - If you don't like it, go to Lafast and see what he says. Especially after all your past antics and stacks of explanations.

  Suppressing his dislike, Yakir silently turned and walked towards the training section.

  “Wait a minute, Vallor!” Get back to the body! That's an order!

  Heavy quick footsteps behind him made me speed up. He was not going to stop, just as he was not going to continue an absurd conversation with a man who had lost his head so much as not to think about the consequences and forget about the law for a pinch of power.

  Stop, I said. Grasping his shoulder, Rivmani pushed Yakir against the wall and, drawing his sword, loomed menacingly, narrowing his already slanted black eyes.

  Sharply throwing his hand forward, Yakir hit him in the stomach and, knocking out the blade, intercepted the hilt.

  - According to the law of Armatea, who raised a weapon against the son of the Leading line without the permission of the Council of the Family or the Head of the Family should be truncated with a sword or hanged. - Pressing the blade to the handbrake's thin neck, Yakir stared into pupils dilated with fear for several seconds, and then took the sword away and extended his hand demandingly: - Penalty.

  Rivmani swallowed and backed away.

  I'll report to the general! he answered hoarsely. You will be expelled today.

  - Penalty, - calmly repeated Yakir. "Or I'll have to exercise my right to the fullest." I am initiated into the Order and will be able to show every second of our conversation. You will answer before the court of my Family and die like a dog. 

  Taking a leather booklet from his belt, Rivmani threw it on the floor.

  Yakir frowned and shook his head.

  “Pick it up and give it properly, officer,” he demanded. 

  “Beardless boy,” the handbrake spat angrily and, raising the penalty box, handed it to Yakir. - You did something, but you can’t see the rank: the general does not look at your titles. So you will remain a palechnik [2] . 

  - Thank you, officer. And now you can be free. Continue your service.

  Returning Rivmani's weapons, Yakir turned around and continued on his way. He was shaking with barely contained anger. During his studies at the Academy, it was not the first time he had to face outright humiliation. In the years since the assassination of King Lirdan, the ancient taboos have been palpably shaken, and the Council has achieved what they wanted. Now those who fifteen years ago would not have dared to look up had to be put in their place with threats and weapons. The Leader's power was getting weaker.

  “Palechnik, so I’ll stay ...” he hissed angrily under his breath, quickly running down the steep steps. - We'll see. That's not why I endured so much!

  The academic building was still empty, only three maids, humming something softly, with rags and mops importantly walked along the open windows. It was already dawn outside, and a gray pre-rainy mist swirled over the wide windowsills.

  Noticing Yakir, the elderly woman put the bucket on the floor and bowed, the other two, very young, looked at each other and followed her example. 

  - Good morning. - Smiling a little, Yakir walked past and turned to the office of the Chief Stopper. Unlike Rivmani, he probably already knew about the duke's imminent arrival and Yakir's decision to leave the garrison. If Paraman began to gather people around him, then the throne remained empty for a few months. 

  Behind the door was a leisurely conversation. After a pause, Yakir knocked loudly and stepped back, almost tripping over the edge of the carpet. He could not wait: the general had to receive the papers before evening.

  "Come in," a blunt baritone sounded in the ensuing silence. 

  It was gloomy in the spacious room, despite the abundance of candles and the tall blazing fireplace. 

  - Vallor? The stopman raised his eyebrows in surprise and pointed to one of the empty chairs. - For what business? Why so early?

Sitting down, Yakir unbuttoned the collar of his camisole, took out the folded sheets and, putting them on the table, quickly glanced towards the window, where, turning away, stood a tall, broad-shouldered officer.

  “Look, Tori. With a snap of his fingers, the stopman skimmed through both petitions. “The young lord wants to leave us… Do you think Lafast will sign the handbrake ahead of schedule?” 

  Approaching reluctantly, he bent down and ran his eyes over the lines. Despite the fact that he was only a year older than Yakir and studied in a parallel flight, the stripes of a combat officer already flaunted on his chest. 

  “If he passes for a step, maybe he will sign, since there are no questions on the report card,” Tori answered reluctantly, straightening up. “Your Highness means this?”

  “Of course,” Yakir smiled coldly. - If in doubt, you can personally take the test. I think it will be more than convincing for the general. 

  Did you hear, Olon? Groaning, Tori folded his arms across his chest. “Well, if the son of the Leading line is willing, can I resist?” Please. The training ground is still free, we will not interfere with anyone - there is still half an hour before the formation. Pass the theory later, I'm not very strong in it. 

  - Already passed. - Standing up, Yakir straightened his camisole. The excitement subsided. Thoughts gradually left the walls and comrades that he had managed to acquire, becoming familiar. The time allotted for youth is over. Now he had to think about how to establish the old connections that his father had and gain influence at court. The authorities did not tolerate the weak, it was required to act boldly and with pressure, while Paraman's hand was still over him. The fact that the duke was going to cover the rear, Yakir understood: he learned the rules of the game before he learned to hold a sword. Those who believed that he would sit in the shadows were greatly mistaken - he already had plans for his own future. He was not going to endure slaps for the rest of his life. It's time to hit back.