The Story Of One World I, Chapter VIII, Part II — Kevar, The Counselor
Kevar
Kevar was abruptly awoken by a message from Judjur, but it took him an uncomfortably long time to recall where he was, who he was, and what was happening. Instead of feeling rested after a daytime nap, he felt as if he had been repeatedly kicked. His entire body ached, and fragments of a nightmare haunted his mind. Eventually, he peeled himself off the bed. Wait. Since his return, he had always slept on a narrow couch in the storeroom. How did he end up in the luxurious bedroom on the second floor? He couldn’t remember — fatigue had so thoroughly overwhelmed him that he had lost awareness of his actions. This realization disturbed him — given the rapidly evolving events of late, the last thing he wanted was to start doubting himself. It reminded him of the war — though he seemed to be doing everything right, everything was veiled in mist, fear, or fury. “I’ll need to contact Cecilia when possible,” he noted to himself.
But now, the captain’s message demanded his attention. It was succinct yet informative: “We have an emergency. The killer has dealt with Krib; you might be next. I’ve sent my two best officers your way, they’re trustworthy. They will escort you to the precinct. Details when we meet.”
What a twist. Kevar slumped onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at his reflection in the massive mirror through a haze of fleeting thoughts. He noticed his tousled curly hair (When had he last cut it?), gray at his temples, dark bags under his eyes, and deep wrinkles on his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. War leaves its mark on everyone, sparing no one. Now, because of a mad person who lost his mind in war, innocents were suffering. Krib might have been a scoundrel, but his family certainly didn’t deserve Ombro’s wrath. And she had deprived many people of their futures with just one act. Now, after visiting the temple, Kevar somewhat understood the killer’s motives, but he could not accept them. Ombro Kashita’s goals and Inisio’s were noble and even vital for the decaying Kingdom. However, the methods chosen by Ombro-Zealot were beyond Kevar’s moral framework. The eternal debate — whether one innocent life can be sacrificed to save hundreds — Kevar had resolved long ago and reaffirmed during the war. Any unjust death is a tragedy, and the world is dark enough without adding to the already immense cruelty. In this context, Kevar always tried to justify to himself the actions he undertook on the front by order of the king — eliminating millions of planetary inhabitants, ingrained from childhood to believe that these beings were not people but dangerous creatures.
The sound of a doorbell and a knock echoed from the hall (at least one of the cops thought to press the button; impressive). Kevar shook off his reverie, instinctively activated his suit, and went downstairs to meet the police. He was greeted by Lieutenant Hira and Detective Tarva, also a lieutenant. Without unnecessary conversation and constantly looking around, they escorted Kevar to the police spacecraft.
“Mr. Argomantis, this is for your safety,” Hira said as he practically shoved Kevar into the narrow space of the detainee transport compartment and slammed the hatch shut. The young lord’s nerves were tested by claustrophobia for the second time in two days, and his tolerance for the unfolding events was rapidly dwindling. Trying to focus on meditation, Kevar leaned his head against the slightly vibrating wall of the vehicle and closed his eyes.
Upon arrival at the central precinct, he was quickly and quietly brought to the most secure part of the building — the cells for especially dangerous criminals. This all began to feel like a grim farce to Kevar — yesterday’s story with the military repeating almost the same form, except now he wasn’t dragged along but walked through the dark prison corridors.
Captain Temanov was waiting for him in the cell. His helmet was retracted; his face was gaunt, his eyes hollow — he looked unwell. The small room had been hastily furnished with decent enough furniture, and a poorly installed screen window attempted to alleviate the gloom of the space and the situation overall. The captain nodded to the police, gesturing for them to leave. The door closed behind them with a mournful whir, leaving a sense of despair. Kevar guessed that the person who designed these doors for the prison was a true sadist.
“Judjur, are you sure this is all a good idea? I told you, I can handle myself…”
“You can’t, and I doubt anyone could. Look,” the captain handed Kevar a portable computer, “this is the footage of Ombro’s attack from my headcam. It’s not great quality, but you’ll get the gist.”
Kevar delved into the footage, settling onto an unstable chair.
“Complete madness,” was his first comment after the third viewing, “absolute madness. ‘To simulate the sinking of a ship…,’ ‘his fate is not in his own hands…’ — what in the world is going through that lunatic’s head?”
“Mad or not, buddy, you’re in real danger. Until we figure out the details, you’ll stay here, under protection. We’ll let you out as soon as we find out anything or confirm you’re safe. Don’t worry. I’m not thrilled about such a capable assistant being sidelined either.”
“Damn it!” Kevar exclaimed in frustration, slamming his fist so hard on the metal table that he punched a hole in it; he then sat quietly for a few minutes to calm down, then continued, “Alright, let’s do it your way. I’ll take advantage of your hospitality and get some rest — I’ve been sleeping terribly. I can’t remember where and how I fall asleep — it’s a nightmare.”
“Kevar, I don’t know how long you’ll be here. We can’t take any risks.”
“But you’re taking risks.”
“I’m a policeman; it’s my job. You’re a civilian, a potential victim. Right now, I need to handle many operational issues, and you can use this time to rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours, and we can discuss our recent speculations in light of the latest events.”
With that, the captain swiftly exited the room, leaving Kevar alone. Initially, the lord wanted to ponder the ongoing events, but his body had other plans: he fell asleep instantly in the chair.
The Counselor
The Counselor briskly navigated through the vast shopping center nestled in the upper echelons of a sphere-shaped building. All around him, hordes of people moved back and forth, neatly and forcefully directed into organized streams by the stern-looking soldiers of the royal guard. Need to change direction unexpectedly? You’d have to make it to the next intersection, notify a guard officer, and proceed as directed. Want to visit the “Cosmo Costumes by Gina Variati” boutique? Sorry, you’ll need to take a long detour through the hall.
Disregarding all norms, the Counselor strode directly towards his destination, deftly weaving through the slow-moving shopper “ant trails” and picking up speed in the open spaces between them. The guards stopped him twice — for breaking movement rules and for not wearing a suit and mask — but they quickly backed off and apologized upon noticing the small amethyst brooch on his lapel, depicting a recluse spider. Everyone in the capital knew such a brooch; the Ungurabuts emblem belonged to only one person, and he was not to be trifled with. Rumors even suggested that the Counselor held more power than the king himself — an exaggeration, although not entirely without truth.
The meeting was in the noisiest and most popular café in the Residential City, “The Royal Mug.” Genuine to the adage — hide in plain sight if you want to remain unnoticed.
Vanti Khala was already there, seated at a small round table in the center of the room, sipping Varsk oak brew through a straw connected to his mug, obscured by his helmet. He had swapped his dreadful swamp-colored armor for a civility-passing, albeit equally tasteless, light-brown standard urban model for this public appearance. The Counselor grimaced at the sight of this ungainly, unpolished man with a hideous burn scar covering half his face, whom he had privately nicknamed Grumpy. A true “man of the people,” Grumpy was the younger son of an old but long-impoverished aristocratic family, raised on the fringes of the Kingdom and served in the assault troops, albeit not too successfully. What had driven this poorly mannered, rough, yet in his way honorable man to join the revolution remained somewhat of a mystery.
However, now was not the time for the Counselor’s usual analytical indulgences. He needed to quickly deliver instructions to Vanti and return to the palace for another pointless meeting with the king about declaring a state of emergency and deploying additional military forces to the capital. Thanks to his new ally’s clumsy but effective efforts and the somewhat accidental aid of the revolutionaries, the stable structure of authority was starting to quiver, if not yet shaking. This thought brought a slight smile to his lips.
By the time the Counselor made his way through the café to Khala, he was already pulling out a data chip: “Here’s the deal: our mutual acquaintance desperately wants a vacation in the countryside, but duty calls, and she figured why not let some reliable guys take over for a bit? She’s counting on you, can she?”
“And how are you mixed up in this mess?” Vanti grunted. “I thought our perfect know-it-all was untouchable, even by our… mutual friend. And by the way, we thought she’d at least thank us — my guys did quite a job on her recommendation.”
“She says it was rough messy, but tolerable. That’s a quote — not my words, I’m no expert in these things.”
“Kind of hurts, you know. We did put in the effort.”
“Well, she’s hoping you’ll do even better this time.”
“Got a detailed plan again like last time?”
“Don’t know about last time, but the info on this chip? Even I could pull it off.”
“When’s the deadline?”
“Tomorrow, my friend, not a day later. We’ll all have to push hard now — this game’s in its final round, and any slip-up could mean disaster. Again, her words.”
With that, the Counselor stood up, nodded to his acquaintance, and vanished into the crowd, leaving Vanti to ponder the weight of their imminent tasks.
Continued here:
The previous part is here:
