The Story Of One World I, Chapter IX, Part I — Kevar
Kevar
Kevar restlessly dozed, tossing and turning on the terribly uncomfortable mattress with springs that jabbed into his sides when the cell door opened, revealing Judjur in the doorway. He was breathing heavily as if he’d just sprinted, a strange expression fixed on his face — a mix of tense anxiety and poorly concealed joy.
“Buddy, I’ve got two pieces of news for you: good and bad. Which do you want to hear first?”
Argomantis slowly pried his eyes open, scratched at the beard he’d grown over the past month and a half, and responded with a hoarse voice, “Let me guess: they’re going to hang me tomorrow, but they’ll apologize politely?”
“Not quite! News number one: there’s just been a message about a murder… you won’t believe it, Minister Kafrash himself!”
“Oh, starry hemorrhoids!” Kevar cursed, sitting up on the bed and looking incredulously at Temanov. “How could that even happen? His security was almost tougher than the king’s.”
“This security ironically played a cruel trick on Kafrash. The assassin, we believe, infiltrated the defense ministry disguised as one of the numerous guardsmen or military or police personnel. Either way, it was done with a professional touch, we must admit!”
“That is indeed powerful — now finding a new defense minister candidate will be nearly impossible; few would risk it. By the way, was that the good news or the bad news?”
“Look at you; you still haven’t lost your odd sense of humor while in our lovely facility. The good news is that you’re no longer under any suspicion — the handwriting at the crime scene is unmistakably Ombrò’s, so all suspicions are lifted from you. Moreover, this isn’t the first murder during your detention — we decided to play it safe, sorry.”
“Great,” Kevar replied in a monotone, “I think I told you that a month ago. You guys did well. Though I’m not surprised — I’d have done the same, I suppose. Just as well that this she-demon of the asteroid belt didn’t cool her heels for a couple of years or didn’t die altogether — otherwise, I’d be sitting here till the end of my days.”
“Well, hardly. They would’ve hanged you or shot you after ten years anyway. Now, you can choose: stay here under our protection or leave for good. But keep in mind, I can’t guarantee your safety out there. We’re short on people, especially now. All efforts are focused on hunting this maniac, and I can’t provide personal security for you. Besides, I’m soon off to your Fraktura, so I won’t be around to help should anything happen.”
“Judjur, believe me, I don’t need your protection. Just give me back my suit and show me the way out — I can’t stand this place any longer. And Fraktura — it’s not mine. But I wish you luck.”
Judjur smiled sadly, handing Kevar his wrist computer. Half an hour later, the captain was dropping the lord off at the steps of the Argomantis estate. On the doorstep, Kevar turned back to Judjur, who was watching him go, and said:
“Buddy, thanks for everything. I hope you catch this scoundrel before she wreaks absolute havoc in the city and country.”
“I hope so too, Kevar… And I also hope that you won’t try to get involved in this mess again. Maybe if you step out of the game, Ombrò won’t try to reach you.”
“I’ll try, Judjur. I’ll try.”
The captain nodded, closed the cockpit lid, and lifted the aircraft into the air. Kevar watched as the ship finally disappeared into the endless transport stream far away.
The lord sat on the mansion’s veranda, overlooking the garden. His gaze wandered absently across the lush greenery and the sporadic bursts of colorful flowers. The air was thick with the sharp scent of blooming acacias, mingled with the subtle fragrances of roses and irises. Tiny, vivid birds flitted through the garden, chirping merrily.
Yet all this beauty seemed distant, like a bizarre mirage, as if it existed in some unimaginably faraway place. Kevar’s thoughts were neither here nor there; he was trying to make sense of recent events. Suddenly, it dawned on him that everything had started much earlier — was it five, ten, twenty years ago? Or had he been caught in a whirlpool of madness before he was born?
Argomantis was beginning to realize that he could no longer unravel what was happening on his own — his memory continued to fail him, and chronic sleep deprivation caused by constant stress dulled his mind, preventing concentration. He felt an acute need for help, perhaps for the first time in his life. Yet, in this city, there were hardly any people left whom he could trust even a little. But surely, there had to be someone. Someone in this damned city.
Kevar shook his head sharply, snapping back from his deep reverie into the real world. He needed to act urgently while he still had some control over the situation and could maintain his sanity.
And then it became clear whom he should turn to — the only person he could approach now. He didn’t want to show his weakness, but he had no other choice: either continue to sink deeper into the mire of fragmented memories and swirls of inexplicable events or muster his strength and meet with Cecilia White.
He chose the latter. Trying to push aside the unsettling thoughts, he contacted her directly. She responded almost immediately: “Kev, I was expecting your call. I’m ready to see you anytime; come over.”
“Can we meet at your place in an hour?”
“Alright, I’ll try to leave the office early. Haven’t you forgotten how to get here?”
“I think not. See you soon.”
Hearing her familiar, calm, and confident voice, Kevar felt a slight yet surprisingly profound relief. It was rare for him to feel this way after merely exchanging words with someone. Cecilia always had a positive effect on him, especially during times when his life was less than ideal.
Exactly an hour later, he stood in front of her apartment door on the top floor corridor of the western residential sphere complex. For a moment, he stared at the polished metal door, more precisely, at his slightly distorted reflection. Was it really his reflection? He had grown so accustomed to the mask he had worn for so many years that he involuntarily associated himself with it. But his eyes were gray, not bright blue with a neon glow, right? And there should be more emotions.
He shook his head to dispel the thoughts, focused and knocked confidently. The door opened almost immediately, and there stood Cecilia. Unmasked, her honey-colored hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Her bold, confident, and kind brown eyes scrutinized him thoroughly, her thin lips curling into a genuine, welcoming smile. She gestured for him to come in.
The apartment looked almost the same as it had when he last visited many years ago, except for several new ceramic vases of various sizes displayed on shelves near the ceiling.
“Your collection has grown quite nicely,” he remarked with a smile.
Cecilia didn’t reply, just smiled calmly and nudged Kevar towards the office; he obediently walked down the dimly lit corridor. Cecilia’s office was furnished with functional simplicity: in the far corner, to the right of a wide semi-draped window, sat a small mahogany desk, and the room’s center was dominated by a large leather-upholstered couch. Next to the couch stood a deep, soft armchair that seemed more suited for sinking into a dreary evening with a mug of coffee and a favorite book.
Cecilia gracefully leaped into the armchair, curling up with her legs, and pointed Kevar to the couch. He obediently sat down on the creaky, springy upholstery and glanced sideways at her. She looked back expectantly. He sighed heavily and entered a combination on his wrist computer, folding his suit.
“That’s better. You’re here to see a practicing mage-psychologist, not for a social visit. No masks are needed here. Now, we can start. What do you want to achieve from this conversation?”
“I need to understand what’s happening to me. My condition has worsened during service, and the events since I returned from the front have exacerbated everything…”
“How are your memories? Any improvement?”
“Not really. Lately, I’ve been getting more fragments, but it doesn’t bring relief — quite the opposite. I’m scared, Cecilia. But I feel that now I might be able to remember. If you help me.”
“If you truly believe that your memory’s barrier has cracked, I can help you break through it. But I can only guide you; you must do the work yourself.”
“I understand. Just help me.”
“Alright. I will now induce a trance, and then I will guide you. But only for a while because once you are beyond the wall, you will be on your own in your memories. Be careful. If you feel discomfort or venture too deep, come back immediately and retrace your steps. There are corners of the mind and subconscious that should not be disturbed.”
“Alright, Cecilia. I just want to figure it all out.”
“Good. Let’s begin.”
Continued here:
The previous part is here:
