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Second Chance

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The broom that I had shoved under the door snapped in two the third time I slammed my boot down heavily upon it. I braced myself for the wave of pain that would follow, cursing as I did so – it was getting to the point that everything ached. There's only so many beatings you can take before your whole body starts to hurt with every major physical exertion, regardless of where the bruises actually are. The loud crack of dry, neglected wood breaking served as a testament to how neglected this storage room was. Hell, by the looks of things, including some of the old tools that I had found, some of the items in here probably predated the war.

The door, however, was firm, and would not budge in the slightest. The boards were warped some, but they were thick, and sturdy, with not enough space in between each plank to shove in any sort of object to pry the thing open. My only saving grace was that there was the smallest gap at its base, less than an inch large, so that the bottom of the door did not graze against the uneven stone floor when opened into the hallway. This, I tried to pry with the only tool I could find that would splinter enough to form a wedge to stick under the door, even if it was merely the long handle of a lowly broom, trying to see if I could lift the door from its hinges, but even this was to no avail – I couldn't even make it budge.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed – honestly, probably only ten minutes or less, but every second felt crucial. For all I knew, if my reasoning was remotely correct, I could be the only thing standing between a peace that was within reach or a war that would drag on for decades more. At least, this is what I told myself to find motivation. That's what I needed – not the pleasant, comforting motivation that comes from thinking nice thoughts, but the anger and rage induced by memories suppressed, and the fear that others will have to continue to live them forever and ever.

I gazed down the stairs into the dim room to see if I could glimpse anything lying in the candlelight that I could use in place of the broom: this clearly wouldn't be an easy struggle, but I had no other options. I had confirmed that there were no other entrances to the room, and toppled a few stacks of heavy boxes in the process, trying to make as much noise as possible in hopes that someone would find me. They were mostly full of chains, coal, ropes, and bottles: clearly the miscellaneous junk that had no place anywhere else. But even with the clamor and noise of the sounds these falling objects made, I heard no sign of anybody. The stone was firm, and the room was clearly out of the way. Come to think of it, what building was this, anyway? It was clearly at least somewhat important – otherwise there wouldn't have been so many guards and state employees present – yet, the only individuals we ran into were other…Paleontologists: Ravnik's coworkers. Was I really trapped in a government archive? Even if I got out, how would I even get to the duke?

I sighed as I looked down at the ground in frustration. I spotted a long wooden plank at the edge of the circle of light created by the candles. It was thick, but it looked brittle, and I would probably be able to splinter it and shove it under the door. I was about to head down the stairs when, suddenly, the door jolted slightly, almost as if someone had pushed themself into it. Startled, I almost jumped, and then remained perfectly still. In a matter of seconds, multiple thoughts flashed through my mind. My first thought was of hope, but then I immediately considered that if this person was a guard, or an official, I would probably be arrested. For all I knew, the duke had already been assassinated, and Ravnick was here to pronounce my arrest. But then again, I never heard the heavy thud of guard's boots in the hallway, and Ravnick wouldn't be stupid enough to come alone. Though either way, there was no reason to approach this clearly-neglected room except to enter it, so, after a few moments, I decided that whoever was there would open the door any second, and that my best course of action would be to bolt down the stairs and hide. I turned to run, prepared to take the steps two at a time; but, before I could lunge down the stairs, I heard a familiar voice.

“Adrik, is that you?" I was so stunned I couldn't say a word, but I didn't have to. A second later, the door cautiously creaked open, and there, standing in the dim hallway light, was Larissa, a black overcoat draped over her clothes. I had never been more thankful to see anybody in my life. “Adrik?" She said again, upon seeing me. But she had scarcely uttered my name before I ran into her, wrapping my arms around her and letting out a sigh. She seemed surprised, at first, and pushed away. “You're bleeding again." I brought my hand to my head and drew it away, my fingers now reflective with bright red blood.

“I know," I replied.

“Who did this," she asked with concern as I took a few steps back down the hallway, gazing into its emptiness as I tried to simultaneously overcome my shock and decide what to do next. Though it was clear that she already may have suspected who had thrown me down the stairs in the tone of her voice.

“Your idiot brother," I replied annoyedly.

“God, Ravnick…Come here," she instructed me firmly.

“What? No, we have to-"

“Do you even know where you're going?" She affirmed as she strode up to me, her pale blue tail waving behind her, putting one hand behind my head and pressing a handkerchief to my wound. I winced, but did not groan, using the pain as an excuse to avoid answering. “I hope you know what I've gone through to make it here."

“Ow," I finally exclaimed, pushing her hand away. “How did you even get in here?"

“I told them the truth," she said as she took a step back, referring to the guards outside. “That I'm Ravnick's sister."

“And they just believed you?" She looked at me, as if disappointed and annoyed that I had assumed that there would be many other dragonborn in all of Lester. “Then I'm assuming you know where the duke is," I shook my head, alluding to her previous remark.

“I do," she replied somewhat matter-of-factly. “He's in the Lower Administrative Building, to the right of this one, along with most of the other high staff. We can make our way there without ever leaving the building."

“How do you know that?" I returned, a little too rudely – I didn't want to be mean, but stress of the situation was making us both snap at one another.

“Adrik, please, you know exactly what line of work I do – I knew precisely who to ask." In that instant, I imagined the hopeful eyes on some lonely, aging official's face as Larissa approached them to ask for assistance – probably their boss's sister, no less. It likely wouldn't have taken long to convince them to offer up the information. She walked past me and began to stride towards the stairs.

“How did you find me?" I finally asked, more so out of genuine confusion now than frustration. Larissa stopped, and turned around, her face still stern but softened.

“I followed you from the student village, at a distance," she replied, pausing as if expecting me to interrupt, but I did not. “I figured I should – you looked like you had no idea what you were going to do. I can't believe you didn't even notice me." I swallowed – I had been too lost in thought on that journey to observe anything. She looked at me, appearing sad for the first time I had seen her since that morning, as if expecting me to tell her off, to yell at her for following me, for putting her life in danger. But what would that have done? Besides, she saved me: what good would yelling at her do?

“Why did you come up here?" Was all that I asked, the sense of urgency that had infected everything before abating for a brief moment. She did not answer me right away, but remained silent.

“I saw Ravnick lead you up here, just as I entered," she finally stated calmly. “Then I saw him come back down without you, and leave…" She looked down, clearly holding down emotions. “I'm sorry. I know he's not the best person, but I really didn't think he was capable of this," she shook her head, referring to her brother's harsh treatment of me.

“It's ok," I finally sighed. “I don't think he truly meant it – he just doesn't know what he's doing." I almost couldn't believe myself. Was I apologizing for Ravnick, who nearly almost killed me? I wasn't even sure. I was drunk on a wave of emotions, all swept up and mixed together in the fast-paced situation that we all found ourselves in. Larissa, too, seemed conflicted. It made sense: I wouldn't want to be in her shoes. Her own brother essentially abandoned her and her family, and then almost kills her lover. But she ignored it, for now:

“Come on, I think I know where to go," she stated, and turned to walk away again.

“But we'll be caught."

“Not if we look like we know where we're going," she returned. “I made it this far – I think people just know who Ravnick is and assume that I'm his relation. As long as he doesn't find out about me being here, it should be fine."

“Larissa," I stepped forward, expecting her to stop again, but she was already almost at the stairs. “Larissa," I called after her again. This time she stopped once more, and turned, although once again slightly annoyed.

“What?" She shook her head, gesturing with her arms. I swallowed. I didn't want to make the suggestion that I was about to. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Larissa didn't budge – she continued to look at me with the same, stern expression.

“I think you should go alone," I finally stated. Now Larissa seemed surprised, even saddened.

“What?"

“You heard me," I continued. “What good will I do that you can't?"

“But- I- You-" She stammered awkwardly, trying to find some sort of counterargument to my claim. “You said it had to be you," she finally stated. I shook my head.

“No – that was for Plan A, where I would find my former associates and either shoot them or talk them out of it," I explained swiftly, admitting for the first time that I would have invited a firefight if it came to it. “But now, we're going to warn the higher administration themselves – maybe even the duke himself." Larissa's expression did not change as she watched me elaborate, but it was clear that she knew where I was going with this. “For all we know, Ravnick's already warned the guards about a tall, brown-haired man in a black suit with a limp wandering around state grounds in case I've escaped. Plus, you're right: no one will ever question you as the relative of a minister of the government – but they might if I'm there. You know I can't go with you." Some silence followed, and I was somewhat taken aback by Larissa's quick acceptance of my argument.

“But, but," she stammered for a few moments, before finally seeming to decide that our new plan was our best shot so far. “Fine," she nodded. “Then I'll go alone, but what'll I do if I see Ravnick? He'll dismiss everything I say and probably tell everyone I'm mentally ill or something," she scoffed.

“Ravnick will be with the duke, probably," I shrugged. “Chances are you'll run into any number of other officials before you even get close to them." Larissa nodded again and was about to turn away.

“But if they arrest me? You won't be there," she suddenly blurted. I pursed my lips and gave a large nod.

“Larissa, I've only known your brother for two days, and in those two days, he's insulted you, betrayed both of us, and nearly killed me," I acknowledged. “But I genuinely believe he cares for you, in some way." I saw that Larissa was about to object so I kept speaking. “He's affirmed it to me multiple times, and I don't see any reason why he would if he genuinely didn't give a damn about you. So if you're arrested, I have no doubt that he has the connections to get you out."

“But-"

“Whereas I mean almost nothing to him," I finished, cutting Larissa off. But there was no need – she had nothing left to say. For what seemed like forever, some silence followed, and I reached forward to place my hands on her shoulders, but she stepped back.

“So what will you do?" She finally urged, much more quietly than we had been speaking until then.

“I'm going back out to the main square," I replied, matching Larissa's low tone. “And if for some reason you don't make it in time, and the duke steps out onto that balcony, I'll make sure that my gun goes off before he can utter a word." Once again, I continued swiftly before Larissa could object. “I'll shoot at the ground, through my coat, and run away with the crowd." Larissa swallowed.

“They'll catch you." I gave a slight smile and let out a short chuckle through my nostrils.

“They can try." With that, she stepped towards me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I returned the hug uneasily and pursed my lips as I gazed at the wall over her shoulder, knowing full well that I was lying to her about everything I had just said.

“Good luck," I nodded as we broke away.

“Same to you," Larissa gave a slight smile, and took a few backward steps while looking at me before turning to walk down the stairs. It was a deep, sad look. It was a look that seemed to divulge her thoughts to me: that she knew I was lying, that she knew what I was really going to do, and that it wouldn't be good. I was happy with how immediate our departure had been – the stress and anxiety of the moment was enough to ensure that there were no lingering remarks or goodbyes. I, for one, was sure that I would never in a million years do what I was about to do if it were not for the sense of urgency in the air…She finally descended down the stairs, without looking back.

After a few moments, long enough to ensure that she had gone, I finally walked down the stairs as well, calmly and as inconspicuously as I could, but confidently. I was worried that someone in the downstairs hallway would recognize me from earlier, but after walking out of the stairwell and into the corridor without receiving any glances, my worries began to subside. In fact, the corridor was significantly emptier than it had been before – I supposed that many people who were in any way important to the day's events had probably begun to make their way to the adjacent building. I wasn't exactly sure what time it was, but it was definitely close to midday.

I began to regret not extracting a more definite explanation from Larissa on how to access the building on the square (which I assumed was the one she was referring to, at least). But, I had already affirmed my intentions to head to the square myself – which I definitely was not going to do – so to have asked her about directions now would have certainly seemed suspicious. I also wasn't sure how I would even get into the main building once I found it: I had no familial connection to any high-ranking state employees or military personnel, nor did I have any formal documents that could grant me entry. And even if I did make it inside somehow, I still had no idea where to go. Oh well, I thought, I'll figure it out as I go. It had worked so far.

Besides, if I had told Larissa my true plan, she never would have let me go through with it. But of course, there was no way on earth I was going to let her solve this whole mess alone – this mess that I had dragged her into. It was risky, too: she may very well be arrested, and I wasn't actually comfortable with the idea of that happening, especially if Ravnick was her best bet at release. But no, that wouldn't happen; not if I could act first. Larissa wouldn't blurt out everything to the first person she saw – that much I was sure of. She was an excellent judge of character, and she would almost certainly find someone whom she would be sure would listen to her, but that someone had to be of a high enough rank to take any meaningful action. But by that time, I would have created hell. If I could just make it to the center of the main building on the square – not even anywhere near the duke, but just somewhere inside it – and create chaos, they would almost certainly cancel the event.

I was no idiot – and I knew Novka was no idiot. I had no doubt they had changed their plan since my little fiasco the previous night. One of them was probably in the building right at that moment. They undoubtedly had figured out some way to kill the duke before he could even set foot on his balcony. That was why my plan of action was so drastic, and so final. I didn't want to hurt anyone – and I would try my best not to – but I was firm in the conviction that every bullet in my pistol would be discharged in some way, even if it were just into the air. I had to ruin everything before the assassination could take place, even if it would end in my almost-certain arrest…And even my likely conviction on charges of conspiracy.

It was kind of odd – I couldn't have cared less about any of this only a week prior. None of it would have mattered to me. But something definitely changed – and I was fully aware it had to do with the impromptu love story that I had found myself in. And Larissa seemed determined, too – I figured that was probably why she was so willing to leave me just a few moments ago. We both knew that if either of us went through with our plans, we may never see each other again. Heck, I would probably be shot as soon as I began to carry out my plan, or at the very least executed if I managed to live to be arrested. And even then, there was a chance that there was nothing we could do to prevent the tide of politics in Oslost from dragging the whole country into war, along with all of its allies, but we had to try, didn't we?

And to think that the version of myself who existed just one week ago would not have gone through with any of it. But now, so close to the end of the war, it seemed that anything that could be done to prevent any factor fro prolonging it should be undertaken to the death. It couldn't keep going on for year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation after generation, sucking the life out of every single country involved and draining the continent of its citizens. There should never be another Adrik Poletyev; there should never be another Larissa Rhinedale; none of these stories should ever be repeated in the same, damn, war…And I was determined to see that through no matter what the cost. Larissa, for all of my affection for her, may not be a part of my future, but she was the person whose bumping into my life led me to this spot. This was not a love story; this was a redemption story. I even almost felt good about it.

So I walked along, calmly but swiftly, as if I had somewhere to be, turning down the first corridor that I could find. It led me through a decorated wooden doorway, beyond which was the first hallway I had so far encountered that was actually warm, evidently sealed off from the cold, above the first story. The walls were papered in a white wallpaper with decorative yellow patterns upon them, and round gas lamps stuck out from the walls, illuminating the space brightly. A red and slightly-dirty carpet ran the length of the hallway, with doors on either wall facing each other at random intervals. Vertical, polished wooden paneling stood at attention along the walls of the hallway, rising to about waist height before it met the wallpaper. The whole place seemed, save the dirtied carpet, fairly well maintained. Yet this hallway, just like the last one, looked surprisingly empty. In fact, it was completely barren of people.

The sound of voices at the end of the hallway, however, alerted me. I cautiously strode down the rest of the distance until the corridor intersected with another one, this one finally containing some windows along the wall that allowed light to stream in from a courtyard area. I had almost reached the end of that hallway, too, when I heard the sound of talking more loudly and distinctly than before. I crept to a slow walk as I cautiously rounded the corner and approached a wooden door. It was only half open, though, so it was difficult to tell what exactly was inside, apart from a shorter, dimmer hallway that contained more rooms behind closed doors. Still, I determined that the muffled shouts were coming from within. It sounded like someone was angry, scolding…And there was only one voice, which was particularly odd. If there was another person in the room, they sure weren't saying much.

And then, suddenly, another voice briefly broke through. It was a pathetic, wimpy sounding voice, as if the person behind the door was attempting to protest against their scolding companion, before being quickly suppressed. It was only just a muffle – I didn't even understand what they had said – but for some reason, it sounded extremely familiar. I stood there, anxiously, for a few moments, hoping that the angry speaker would pause for a second and allow the other voice to break through again; but, frustratingly, the other person had stopped speaking up. I finally realized that this whole charade was pointless, and prepared to move on, when the sound of boots thumping over carpet startled me into a panic. I quietly but swiftly sprinted a few steps across the hallway and crouched against the perpendicular wall. Turning back to the door, I saw the it swing open as a tall, wolf-like man in heavy black boots stepped out. I shrunk away for a few seconds, behind the wall, before realizing that he had not seen me, so I cautiously peaked around the corner again and continued to watch as he peered back into the room he had just left with a sharp gaze.

He was clearly an older man, maybe in his fifties, with mostly-black fur that was long in some places, with the fur above his mouth even styled in some sort of moustache, curled at each end. He was dressed in a cobalt blue dress uniform with gold ropes hanging from one shoulder, and silver embroidery about his coat, the tails of which his black tail poked between. He was also clearly in sore spirits, as evident by his stern manner of speaking. From the moment he stepped out of the room, he hadn't stopped shouting.

“Honestly," he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned towards the door again, leaning his head inside the room. “Could you at least attempt to live up to your obligations for just one day?" He placed a hand against the doorframe and sighed, looking down. “You've only had nothing but mentorship your entire life, why not take advantage of it? You could rise much higher than this." A muffled response came from within the room, though I could not hear what was said. Yet, again, there was still something familiar about the sound, even if I couldn't place it. In fact, the officer, as well, also looked somewhat familiar, though I wasn't sure why…

“Oh, heaven's sakes," he signed in reply to whatever had been said to him, rolling his head annoyedly on his shoulders. “You're a captain of the guards – at least behave that way while in uniform." Another muffled reply – but this time, the realization hit me like a train. How could that be? I thought. I was astonished. If the person still inside the room was who I thought they were, then I could've been in for my second lucky break of the day. “I don't care that you don't – today, you will!" The officer pushed himself away to leave, but, thinking better of it, leaned into the doorframe one last time and shouted: “and don't even think about running off again! Honestly, six whole days…And look at you! You look homeless." He muttered something that I couldn't hear. “I'll be back in an hour – I want you looking presentable by then." With that, he turned, pivoting in my direction.

I threw myself back against the wall, shoving myself into the paneling. Pressing against it, my breath held, I sat in heavy tension as the thump of boots striding over carpet approached me. The sound peaked as it reached the mouth of the hallway, and I gazed intently at the ground: two tall, black dress boots – modified to fit digitigrade legs – strode by, further on down the adjacent corridor, as if I wasn't even there.

For a few moments, I didn't move. I just sat there, my blood pumping with adrenaline, pushing myself firmly against the wall. Finally, I took in a breath, and snapped back into focus with renewed determination. Glancing down the hallway to ensure the officer was not on his way back, I cautiously yet swiftly stepped through the door, careful not to push it any further open. The hallway I found myself in was small, identical to the previous one in design, save that the wrapping paper was dark green instead of white and yellow. Leaning towards the only open door in the dim hallway, my feet treading cautiously upon the soft carpet, I heard a contemplative and admittedly drunken-sounding voice monologuing as its speaker talked to themselves.

“But it's no bloody use, any of it," he chuckled hopelessly. “Watch me get shot on the front lines in two months – then we'll see who's really ashamed of themselves…" There was no mistaking the sound of that voice: It seemed that I had a potential ally in here after all. Though banking on them remembering me was a long, long shot, considering the circumstances of our meeting. But, it was all I could do. With some hesitation, I finally decided that, if it came to it, and this man called the guards, I could kill him and continue on my way – who would ever know? Braving myself up, preparing to possibly do anything, I stepped into the doorframe and took a large step into the room.

It was a small room – or, rather, a medium-sized room that was so cluttered with furniture and decoration that it appeared to be small. On the left wall was a square window through which white light flooded the space through thin, white linen curtains. Beneath this was a small green sofa, to either side of which were end tables with unlit gas lamps. A pot of ferns was directly to my left, right next to the door, the stems shooting far out from the pot and the leaves stretching well into the room. The right side of the space had two small, decorative red chairs angled towards the center of the room from each corner, a small round table with a complete tea set in between them. Opposite from me sat a wide shelf, overflowing with books, artifacts, and little figurines. All of it looked like it cost a fortune to furnish.

In the center of the room was a round table, draped in a white tablecloth, and absolutely swarmed with cutlery. Silverware and china, glasses and ceramics, candlesticks and teacups, adorned the dining space. There were so many objects that it didn't look orderly at all: everything seemed shoved together on the crowded surface. Yet they were all neatly arranged and symmetrical, with six or so cushioned oak chairs surrounding the table. At the other end, sitting before several platters of sliced meat, cheese, bread, and fruit, holding a tiny crystal glass of what I could only assume was dark liquor, was none other than Evgraf. His elbow rested on the table, and his other arm was slung over the back of his chair. He was calm, meticulously dressed in a smart, cobalt guards' uniform, and already quite drunk. Although frankly, for all his fancy attire, he looked horrible: his black fur was tangled and matted, just as it had been when I had last seen him, and he looked tired and disheveled, as if he had just been dragged off the streets and stuffed into a uniform. Regardless, I was surprised he hadn't been completely lying two nights ago when he said that he'd been in the guards: he was still in the guards.

“Ay, who are you?" He muttered lazily as I stepped into the room. Well, at least he's not as drunk as he was the last time we met, I thought. And at the very least he was aware of his surroundings, and evidently capable enough of speaking in full sentences. "Did somebody hit you?" I ignored his question, turning slightly to hide the bloody part of the bandages on my head.

“Evgraf, good morning," I began, trying immediately to be as friendly as possible to earn his favor, especially given his still-ambiguous mood.

“I beg your pardon, but have we met," he asked almost condescendingly as he sat forward and placed his little drinking glass down in front of him as he pulled a napkin cloth, which had been tucked into the collar of his uniform, down to the table with a thud. I realized that I had to make a better impression on him quickly. I decided to just remind him who I was, if he could even remember.

“I'm Adrik, remember?" I began earnestly. “We met two nights ago on the streets just East of Central Lester." Evgraf merely stared at me blankly. It was obvious he had no idea who I was.

“I don't remember a thing from that night, sorry," he confirmed with a shrug. “That the first time I've seen you?" He let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, throwing his arm over the back again.

“Yes: you were lost, and it was cold, so I walked you to a bar," I stated, leaving out the part where he fell asleep in the street (I wasn't sure how he would react to my telling him that). Evgraf seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then his face lit up.

“Oh," he suddenly exclaimed as he broke into a wide smile. “You're that mate who brought me into – what was it? – “Boris and Mikes" or something?"

“Yes, that was me," I confirmed, relieved, but before I had even finished speaking, Evgraf threw his head back and opened his maw wide as he let out a ferocious laugh.

“Oh, that bartender absolutely hated you," he bellowed, throwing himself forward again and slamming a fist down upon the table, its contents clinking noisily. “He threw me out first thing in the morning and muttered something about killing 'that son of a bitch' who brought me in there," he chuckled, shaking his head in satisfaction as his laughter died down. I was growing impatient – who knew how much longer I had before Larissa had made her way into the circle of government officials that she was headed towards. Every second wasted entertaining Evgraf's cackling was a second closer to Larissa's arrest, or the assassination of the duke. I decided to cut to the chase.

“Well I had no choice," I shrugged, though I spoke fast. “You would have died out there. But now I need to ask-"

“Were you sent by my father," he suddenly asked, leaning forward swiftly with a serious face.

“What? Evgraf I need to ask-"

“My father – did he send you?"

“What? No."

“Of course he did, didn't he?" he sighed, shaking his head and falling back into his seat, his arms limp in his lap.

“Why would I have any connection to your father?" I was growing frustrated, but I tried not to let it show.

“So you were never part of one of his hunting parties he sends after me whenever I run off?" He replied as he remained motionless, gazing at me through sad, defeated eyes.

“Wh- Why do you keep running off," I asked as my impulsive curiosity briefly got the better of me. Evgraf scoffed in a sort of chuckle.

“Do you think I want this job," he asked with a sneer, sitting up and picking up his fork, stabbing a slice of ham that he thrust into his mouth. “It's a nuisance," he muttered, chewing the ham loudly. “Bossing people around all day and whatnot." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and grabbing his knife to cut some fruit on his plate. “But the bastard won't let me leave." I snapped myself to my senses again.

“Well Evgraf, I didn't alert your father of your whereabouts," I stated almost sternly. “But I did save your life, and now you can help me with something." But instead of listening to me, he suddenly set his silverware down onto his plate firmly, chuckling as he leaned back into his seat, albeit more upright this time, almost as if he were making an effort to look presentable.

“You know, they just pulled me out of the gutter this morning?" He grinned, clearly amused at the fact. “Not even a haircut and a shower: they just shoved me into my uniform and my father gave me a hard slap and here I am," he laughed. “Oh, always back at the start…" He lamented, looking off to the side. For some reason I suddenly felt a flash of anger: here was Evgraf, living a life of total luxury – something anyone I had ever known on any deeper level would kill to have – and yet he continually tried to throw it away. And for what – life on the street? I felt disgusted at him. But I let it slide and pressed on.

“Evgraf, please," I urged, walking over to him and pulling out a chair, swiftly taking a seat and folding my hands upon the table. “I really need your help with something."

“With what, can't you see I'm eating breakfast?" He retorted, almost as if he were offended that I should rush him so much. I neglected to mention it was almost noon. “There's a lot going on today and I have to look presentable by this evening."

“I'll only need your help for ten minutes," I assured, leaning forward and trying to capture his gaze (which seemed to wander every which way) as much as possible. “Not even."

“Let me finish breakfast."

“Evgraf, please," I begged again. “I saved your life. You were asleep in the street: sprawled out across the ground. Snow was falling." I finally offered up that withheld piece of information in hopes that it would compel him to sympathy or gratefulness or whatever else would make him want to help me. “And I was cold, too, you know. I thought I would have to drag you to a bar or someplace, but I still went and helped you for who knows what reason." He finally went silent, staring sullenly down at the table. “Evgraf."

“What is it?" He finally blurted out, clearly begrudgingly.

“I need you to get me to the building with Duke Kimberland and the other ministers, I-" Before I had even finished, Evgraf had begun to chuckle.

“What on earth for?" He laughed.

“I have urgent news to inform one of the office heads and I don't have any sort of invitation to be in the building at that time and don't you want to defy your father?!" I spoke swiftly, raising my voice as I did do, competing with Evgraf's laugh which grew louder and louder, but at these last, shouted words, he stopped, and regained a serious and solemnly contemplative expression, gazing off into space.

“But what actual business do you have there," he asked quietly. “I hate my father, but I'm not breaking the law to sneak you in there, not today," he shook his head. I let out a coordinated scoff.

“I think desertion's a breach of the law if there ever was one." I swallowed, hoping that I could get something out of him. Finally, he turned to me, gazing at me through weary, tired eyes.

“I can't just let anyone in there," he shrugged.

“Come on, Evgraf."

“Besides, you haven't even shared the information with me, yet."

“That's-" I paused. Could I trust Evgraf? If I told him everything now, he may be able to put a stop to it. But then again, he could merely react just as Ravnick had and lock me in a room – or, in Evgraf's case, officially arrest me. Not to mention that Larissa was already on her way to carry out a similar plan, and I didn't want to waste any more time than I needed to. Besides, Evgraf was drunk, so perhaps he would be more susceptible to suggestion. “That is not information that I am at liberty to share with you."

“Nor with the higher administration, apparently," he chuckled through his sharp, pointed teeth as he raised a claw to his mouth to pick out a piece of food.

“I saved your life," I returned. “Do you think someone like me would really have bad intentions?...Evgraf!" No response. “Evgraf, I have urgent news to share with them." My frustration was beginning to get the best of me, and I was about to give up and force Evgraf to lead me to where I wanted to go, at gunpoint if I had to, when he finally raised his head, opening his mouth to speak.

“But…You had no clue who I was then, I suppose," he stated almost absent-mindedly.

“Exactly," I affirmed. “You were a total nobody, and I still helped you." At this, he was silent, but I could perceive a slight nod.

“Well, a debt's a debt," he acknowledged with a sudden sideways nod of the head. He reached for his glass and brought it to his mouth. “And I am certainly indebted." He threw his head back, finishing off the dark liquor, and stood up, sighing as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. I watched anxiously as he shuffled around the table, worried that he would be too drunk to stand, but was relieved to see that he appeared to be able to walk just fine. “Follow me," he stated with a halfway glance as he adjusted the cuffs of his uniform.

I followed him back out into the hallway, walking calmly behind him, not too close so as not to arouse suspicion, but close enough so it was obvious to anyone that he was leading me somewhere, albeit there was still nobody else in the hallway to see us. I watched as a tired and unenthused Evgraf finished adjusting his cuffs and then let his hands fall limp, his arms swinging backward as he gave a little clap behind his back before letting them dangle at his side, sort of strutting as he walked, as if he couldn't care less how completely over this whole role he was. I was growing anxious: what if Evgraf wasn't even a high-ranking officer? What if he had no authority to grant me access to the next building? What if he wasn't even allowed to escort guests? Besides, it was extremely difficult to look normal while following somebody who clearly had no concerns about being judged by others.

But in some small way I felt bad for him. Sure, he was kind of an idiot, but it sounded like he had the world's worst father. I looked at Evgraf in his cobalt uniform, and tried to imagine trying to live up to a man like his dad, in a profession he didn't even care about, surrounded by people he wanted nothing to do with. In a way, I could sort of see him as a messed-up Forticay, although whereas Forticay chose a life of thrill and adventure to escape his family, Evgraf chose one of taverns and drinking himself into unconsciousness. But at least he was leading me somewhere – or at least I hoped that I wasn't walking into another trap this time.

Then it occurred to me: why didn't I try to find Golovna? She knew Hawthorne, after all, and what he was capable of. She would have been the perfect person to contact regarding the assassination attempt! Yet it was too late now, as frustrating as it was. Besides, I had no idea where she was or how to reach her. Plus, as one of Ravnick's subordinates, there may not have even been a chance I could reach her without going through Ravnick first.

We reached the end of yet another narrow, wallpapered hallway, our feet treading softly over the carpeted floors, the windows to our left letting in a little bit of light. I looked outside and gazed into a little courtyard: a single tree, dormant in the cold, reaching for the dark, grey sky through grey stones a story below us. Brown, fallen leaves lay dead, spread sparsely about the ground, a few patches of ice lingering here and there in the chips and cracks among the stones. I was about to ask Evgraf a question about the courtyard, just to make conversation, and to distract him in case he was silently reconsidering his agreement to help me. But right at that moment, I could hear sounds at the end of the hallway.

But what sound was that? I couldn't tell if it was voices or something else, but Evgraf seemed completely unbothered – he walked on just as calmly as before. Finally I registered that it was music I was hearing, and loudly music at that. It was hard to distinguish what it was, but it sounded slow, and high-pitched. A burst of laughter dully echoed through the hallway. Slightly nervous, I glanced out of the windows again: this time, the city met my view, only the sky was even darker than this morning, with clouds of a deep, dark grey accumulating as if it were about to snow.

As we got closer, I could see warm, yellow light flooding into the hallway through two open double-doors, and was finally able to register that the loud music was some form of opera, though in what language I could not tell. Another burst of laughter rang out as we walked closer to the doors – whoever was inside was in really high spirits. I assumed that we would be walking straight past this room – whatever it was – but to my surprise, Evgraf strode right up to the doors and stood in the center of the wide entryway. I stood next to him, and felt a wave of heat overcome me as I did so.

The wall on the right of the sizable room had a roaring fire in a large hearth, drenching the whole scene in a fiery orange glow. The room was only moderately decorated – with some red carpeting, white-painted walls, and a single large portrait of a bearded human officer in blue leaning against his sword as he gazed out over some unseen view over a background of green hills under a grey sky. At the opposite wall was a balcony flanked by two tall windows, the door in between which was open to let out the heat, though it hardly helped. In the center of the room was a large, round table, around which sat a group of six or seven blue-uniformed guards, their hats lying in front them and their sabers and rifles leaning against the wall in the corners. All of them were wolves, each one some shade of grey or black, save a solitary one whose thick fur was of a light brown. They all had massive grins on their faces and were laughing hysterically. The source of their high spirits was no mystery: two finished bottles of red wine, and a third that was half empty, sat in the center of the table, among half a dozen wine glasses that were in various states of fullness. The group didn't appear to be too drunk – buzzed at most, but not intoxicated. Yet they all talked excitedly.

I had expected that they would quiet down and act respectfully when they saw Evgraf, or something like that, seeing as he was a captain of the guards; but instead, when we walked up, they all raised their heads to look at us for a moment and then returned to their conversation without a word. I was a bit taken aback by that – were they of higher rank than Evgraf? Surely not: he was a captain, and the uniforms of these guards didn't look nearly as elaborate as his. But who was I to tell? I glanced to Evgraf, but he merely stared at the group with a concentrated expression and serious eyes, his composure suddenly more formal and his hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps he was trying to act the part now, I supposed. Regardless, it was clear that he would rather the rowdy bunch acknowledge him on their own than have to interrupt, so I said nothing and continued observing the guards' jostling and joking around.

They were all talking amongst each other, laughing and making remarks, though I could only hear snippets of their conversations over the loudness of the music, which played from a phonograph with a large brass horn sitting on a small table in the corner of the room. Under this, in a little wooden chair, sat a short orange and white fox who, by contrast to the others, wore a far more serious complexion as she sat smoking her pipe while staring out the window, indifferent to the roundness around her.

“Do it."

“Go on, do it."

“Do it…" I heard the repeated phrase begin to ripple throughout the bunch. I watched as all heads turned to the light-brown wolf, who finally nodded his head in concession and lifted himself from his seat, a wide grin on his face. At this point I was mildly curious at what was going on. Perhaps he was about to tell a story or something, but then why would they have him stand up? He stood in front of the table, before the fireplace, and forced his smile to drop as the whole room went quiet, while the soldier in the corner still remained indifferent. The guard standing before the group puffed out his chest and began to speak, but he suddenly let out a raspy laugh as a huge grin once again broke out over his face.

“No, I can't do it I can't do it," he laughed, shaking his head as he stepped over to the wall and picked up one of the swords, unsheathing it and twirling it around before bringing it to a resting position at his side.

“Oh, come on, you've got this."

“For all of us." The others cheered him on. Once again silence fell over the room. The brown-furred soldier let out one last, quick chuckle before he regained his composure, raising the sword to a vertical position in his fist with his other hand held sternly at his side. For a moment, the room grew tense as all voices and laughter ceased, the music being the only audible sound. Everyone gazed at the stern, standing soldier, who stared straight ahead at the opposite wall.

“Thitithenths of Henlut," he suddenly blurted out in a mock lisp and exaggerated fake accent, albeit maintaining his rigidly-serious complexion remarkably well. The rest of the bunch burst out laughing for a moment before quieting back down to hear the rest of the speech. “Ith iths by dekree, that vee, the peepole of our great contree, thall thow our neebors who is thee sthrongest contree, and thcure glory for our greet kingdom!" And with that, he thrust the sword into the air with a stern, heroic gesture. The group sitting before him had been laughing and cackling the whole time, leaning over the table and slamming their fists down in front of them, barely able to contain themselves.

I realized that the insensitive display was, in fact, in criticism of Tsyegovin, King of Henlot. As soon as I realized this, in spite of the offensive nature of their little skit, I couldn't help but chuckle a little. Given everything that had transpired just over the past few hours, not to mention the past few days, this had been the most unexpected thing which could have occurred, and there was some ironic humor in it. But then it occurred to me that maybe these soldiers supported the other side in the war. They clearly had no admiration for Henlot, at least. But then again, even those against the war seemed to overwhelmingly disapprove of Henlot's economic and travel blockade, so my smile did not fade. I turned to Evgraf, to see if he was as amused with the situation as me, and was somewhat taken aback by the fact that he maintained the stern, serious complexion that I had not seen on him until now.

“Soldiers of the fifth checkpoint," he snapped sharply, evidently tired of the little comedic display. The room quieted as the smiled slowly faded and all heads turned to Evgraf. For a while, all remained silent, and tense – it was somewhat discomforting to see Evgraf so serious. The other soldiers also didn't seem particularly pleased to see him there.

“What is it," one of the ones sitting at the table asked suddenly with a shrug, as if Evgraf had rudely interrupted them.

“You have no reason to care what it is, but for your information, with me is an individual who requires access to the high staff in the other building." For a moment, all remained silent, aside from the music, although I was frankly stunned to hear so much seriousness and composure in Evfarg's voice.

“Fuck off Evgraf," another one of the soldiers at the table finally snapped, though no one laughed. Normally when a bully jeers at someone, they do it for the laughs. Not here. They clearly all felt the same way about Evgraf.

“Exceuse me?" Evgraf tilted his head, and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. No one said a word. Evgraf inhaled a breath, and for a brief moment I worried that he would lash out at the group physically and get us all in trouble – he was drunk, after all. But once again, to my surprise, he calmly exhaled and remained still, his posture unwavering and his gaze unbreaking with the one who had just name-called him.

“You will not refer to your commanding officer in that manner," he stated calmly but with a severe sternness. “And if you were worth a damn to me, I would report you for that." A small, spiteful chuckle spread throughout the group. “Lieutenant," Evgraf snapped, turning to the fox sitting in the corner, who finally looked away from the window. “Get your soldiers back in line." He shot another dirty glance at the now-quiet, but still aggravated, soldiers at the table as the lieutenant stood up and snuffed out her pipe with a napkin. Setting it down on the table, she reached over to the phonograph and removed the needle from the spinning cylinder, the music instantly ceasing.

“Your presence here was never announced, Captain," she stated as she awkwardly walked around the crowded center table where the soldiers had quietly resumed their conversation. She made her way to Evgraf and stood before him. Although she was considerably shorter than him, she stared him straight in the face. “What job did you find this time," she questioned him in a serious, inquisitorial tone, although it was unclear to me if she were mocking his recent disappearance or trying to make light banter – officers always confused me.

“I delivered papers," Evgraf replied frankly with a weary gaze.

“Very original," the lieutenant nodded.

“For me, it is."

“Hm," the lieutenant let out a grunt and then turned to me unexpectedly, the same indifferent, serious expression upon her face. I was almost startled. “This individual has special access?"

“They have an important message to deliver to high administration," Evgraf affirmed. The lieutenant looked to him, and then back to me slowly, as if not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“On a day like today?" She finally relaxed a little and crossed her arms, her orange tail waving side to side in large, sweeping motions behind her. “And your name?" She turned again to me.

“Adrik Poletyev," I affirmed, figuring that there really wasn't anything lying would gain me at this point. Besides, I had no idea how Evgraf would react if I gave a fake name.

“Well what information do you have to share with the administration, Mr. Poletyev?" I was about to open my mouth and blurt out some made-up statement or try to dodge the question, but Evgraf immediately spoke up.

“That information is classified, I'm afraid. The important thing to note is that he has been verified for clearance." The lieutenant seemed to give Evgraf a skeptical smile.

“Really? Today?" A wave of dread washed over me.

“Do you think I'd lie?"

“I don't know," she returned in the same expression.

“Look, I'll be out of your hair as soon as you take care of this for me," Evgraf sighed.

“Wait, am I not going with you?" I suddenly asked, turning to Evgraf, and then suddenly worried that I appeared too concerned.

“No, not me," Evgraf stated as he turned to me. “You'll be going with Lieutenant Falls – I don't have permission to cross into the high command offices."

“But you're a captain."

“A captain of the guards, not of the royal guards," he corrected. He turned to Falls. “So is it a go?" She shrugged.

“Orders are orders." She turned to me and nodded. I returned the gesture. “Right, with me," she stated as she picked up a peaked cobalt cap from a hook by the door and strode out into the hallway, her hands clasped behind her back. I turned back to Evgraf as I followed her out, his face having resumed its signature dead-inside complexion as he nodded, and walked off.

“You're fortunate to arrive when you did," Falls stated as she led me down the hallway. “Another ten minutes and you would have lost them for the day."

“Sorry?"

“The ceremony," Falls replied, glancing quickly behind her. She walked in the same stern manner in which she had composed herself in the previous room, her eyes forward and her hands clasped behind her back, her tail swaying gently behind her.

“Ah, right," I nodded.

“What department are you from?" That question caught me off guard, although it didn't seem like she was interrogating me – more so merely trying to make basic conversation. Yet I had to be careful.

“Uh, the Department of…Scientific Inquiry," I stated, trying to remember the name that I had heard from, Ravnick, hoping that I didn't sound too confused.

“Ah, that makes sense," she nodded. “I suppose you work a considerable deal with Dr. Rhinedale, then? Or not? This is the first time you've ever been escorted to speak with the high administration, yes?"

“We're…Fairly well acquainted," I shrugged, growing more anxious by the second. “How far is it to the other building?"

“Right up here," Falls stated, nodding to a polished wooden door up ahead. Upon reaching it, I saw that it was latched with a padlock. Falls reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a small ring of long brass keys, selecting one and bringing it to the lock. “Sorry about the precautions," she stated. “But with the degrading security condition resulting and the recent political climate, we can't take any risks."

“I see," I replied as Falls unlocked door and threw the latch aside, pocketing the lock.

“You'll have to be guided to whoever you'd like to meet," she continued. “Who was it you wished to speak to again? Dr. Rhinedale?" Another wave of dread washed over me as I searched for something to say. We walked out into a much larger, grander hallway composed of polished marble floors sporting polished marble columns half embedded into the wall. Up ahead, it seemed that the hallway intersected with three others under what was presumably a dome, given the dim white light that flooded into the building. Well-dressed officials could be seen milling about throughout the large space, and we passed several individuals either in conversation with one another or on their way to who knew where as we walked through the hallway. Well-dressed royal guards in their cobalt dress uniforms stood against the walls. I looked up to see a smiling, younger man in such a uniform approach us, the ropes and tassels of his garments swaying as he walked.

“Hello there, good to see you today," he greeted with a smile as I was still trying to take in the atmosphere. I snapped myself back into focus and forced a smile, thankful that I no longer had to answer Falls. “I'll take it from here," the man stated to falls with a nod. She returned the nod, albeit with a more serious expression, and walked away. Although she turned back to look at me, and did not break eye contact for a disturbing amount of time, almost as if she were concerned. “Who are you here to see," the man suddenly asked. Oh no.

“Um…"

“Ah, my apologies – I should have asked for your pass," he smiled.

“Um…" I began to panic internally, but I remained calm and decided to work with the situation in any way that I could.

“I don't have one."

“I'm sorry?" He returned a quizzical look.

“I must have lost it," I lied as I patted down my pockets with concern, searching for the nonexistent document.

“Huh," the man stated, and I watched him let his arms fall and clasp his hands behind his back, now having taken on a much more serious expression.

“Is that a problem?"

“Oh, no, it's no problem," he assured, albeit without a smile now and more of a concerned look. “I'll simply need to register you so that we have a record if…Excuse me, Sidney?" He took a step towards the side of the hallway and intercepted another officer walking by, this one a much older man with a bushy grey beard. He looked at the other guard with an amused gaze. “I need to access the registry for a quick moment. The gentleman here forgo-"

A deafening roar erupted as a blinding burst of orange and yellow consumed the center of the area, where the hallways met. I watched as towers of fire engulfed the floor, as bits of stone flew into the air. A second later, glass and other debris came crumbling down, crashing to the ground as everyone who had not been blown off their feet ran frantically in my direction. I had even fallen to my knees with the suddenness of the explosion. The guard I had been speaking with ran over to help me to my feet, his eyes wide and frantic with alarm.

“Stay here," he shouted as he turned away and sprinted down the hallway, opening his coat to pull out a pistol as he did so. I watched in disbelief as the guards ran ahead, the crowd rushing back towards us, just as the sound of another, much-bigger explosion tore through the room…Bigger? No, it was closer, because I was on my hands and knees and my head felt like it had been split open again. My vision was fuzzy, and the ground kept coming closer and closer to my face as small chunks of stone and debris fell to the ground in front of me. Not again, I thought, and then it occurred to me that Larissa could have been in that explosion, but I was already almost unconscious by that point.