— OUR DEFENDERS HAVE REBELLED THE ATTACK OF THE VILE ENEMY!!! PRAISE TO THE SOLDIERS!!! HONOR TO THE KNIGHTS!!! GLORY TO THE KING!!! — could be heard from everywhere, while people were climbing out of bunkers and shelters, not yet fully understanding what was happening.
Even in my outskirts, the chorus of loudspeakers could be heard, but I was in no hurry to leave the mansion, just as Kara was still sitting in the basement. It wasn't that I had any objective reasons to believe that Armageddon would begin at any second, it was just that I needed to think about a lot. And I liked to think in silence, alone with my inner voice. And as soon as I thought it all over, I would tell Kara to get up and explain everything to her.
The fact of the planetary defense shooting is undeniable. Everyone saw and heard it. In addition, the news reports themselves already say that the enemy was attacked both from the planet and from the ships of the system fleet. The attack was well prepared, and the enemy was destroyed with one powerful blow. But who was destroyed?
According to the official version, xenos who violated the borders and refused to comply with the demands. And they were destroyed, apparently, not far from our planet. So, they somehow flew here. But why let the enemy get closer? For a salvo of planetary weapons? To risk the lives of the population? Somehow this is strange.
"Something doesn't add up," I muttered, looking out the window of the mansion, where the pine forest rustled.
What a murky story. Besides, there were no casualties. Not a single piece of debris fell. Not a single deflected missile fell on the heads of the people. Everything happened as if... according to a pre-prepared plan - according to a scenario. No one showed us the enemy, either. They simply said that the enemy attacked and we won. And although the locals were clearly indoctrinated from birth, I had a question: was there an enemy at all?
After all, if you look at it that way, then somehow it all turned out to be very interesting. An isolated world, whose fleet rarely left the system. There are ships and a fleet, as well as colonies on other planets and satellites of the system, but the common people are isolated from each other. In addition, the culture itself is extremely conservative: everything revolves around the almost divinity of the knights and the king.
At such moments I asked myself: who benefits from all this first and foremost? Of course, the king and the elites. What prevents them from creating an artificial threat, maintaining the illusion of its existence and justifying their tyranny? They subjugated all the media, held the entire military apparatus in their hands, which meant that all that was left was to teach the common people obedience.
In addition, as is already known, in this world the technology was at a high level. Space was colonized, but there were no robots! People on solid-fuel tractors drive through the fields! In factories, child labor is used instead of manipulators, and conveyor production is based on crazy manual labor. And servitors were not made here. Why?
And here the answer suggested itself to me. Some miracles of progress could give strength to the common people. Now all military power rested on the nobility and their Knights, whom only they could control. The people could, of course, take up firearms and rebel. But what's the point? But if progress were given free rein, these people could take up some uberwafels instead of firearms.
That's why people were deliberately denied a decent education: they were kept in darkness, fed lies, and exploited like cattle, not even given the opportunity to imagine that some other life could exist. Everything had to be just like that, because there were some enemies from whom the king and his knights protected everyone.
"It looks logical, everything fits together," I continued to reason out loud.
But something in my theory didn't add up. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was wishful thinking. Perhaps it was envy, both mine and Mordred's. I am a peasant myself. I think like a peasant, and I too was happy to blame those same "elites" for all my troubles. But something was just itching, as if I had missed something extremely important.
And that something was Tzeentch, who clearly had a reason for throwing me here and is now laughing at my attempts at prediction. As the saying goes, man proposes, Tzeentch disposes.
- Kara, you can come out of the basement! Everything is fine! - I shouted, passing by the descent into the basement. - I will be in the family library! Start counting the remaining goods!
What is the difference between me and Tzeentch? The question is certainly incorrect and rather stupid. However, if you delve into the details, the main difference will be knowledge. Tzeentch knew everything and skillfully maneuvered in the flow of endless information. As he himself said: he did not see the future, he predicted it, operating with probabilities and manipulating other people's decisions through temptations, lies, threats.
And although knowledge is always a double-edged sword, I preferred to take a risk and dig deeper, even if it only made things worse.
— There are many books… but mostly fiction… — I carefully studied the spines, passing by the volumes accumulated by my late family. — And here… something suitable… "Bylinas of the Dark Time". A title straight out of a fairy tale.
There were many inconsistencies with the history of this world. At first I hadn't cared, but recent events had left me with too many questions. I needed answers, and the truth that was being deliberately kept from me. Who colonized this planet? Why was contact with Terra lost? When was the last time other people had come here? This system couldn't exist in a vacuum. Or could it? If it was as far away as Drakernor, it might take centuries for a Rogue Trader to arrive, or never at all.
"Dark times... eternal night... oppressive darkness..." I read one fairy tale after another, in which it seemed there was no rational grain.
However, only fools considered fairy tales to be nonsense. After all, they were not composed just like that and always had some purpose: be it the desire to teach the younger generation correct morals or to grant eternal memory to heroes that everyone should know. Fairy tales are the pillar of a developing culture, the choice of the people who determined what was important to them at one time.
And by sifting out the fiction, removing fantasies and layers of hyperbolization of certain facts, I learned more and more. In addition, the book itself contained documentary stories, copies of letters from those who lived at that time. Everything converged on the fact that long ago dark times came and the human race was punished for its sins.
— The chosen ones will be saved, the great purge is coming… — I skipped the obvious nonsense, focusing my attention on something at least slightly rational. — Oh, the first people… the best of the best, who paved the way among many dangers and monsters. Demons, monsters, countless hordes of enemies… And the enemies are written about separately from the monsters and demons. Perhaps we are talking about xenos? Damn, I don't even understand some of the words. This language is too different from Imperial Gothic. It must be a long-forgotten colony or…
There were other options, but I didn't want to consider them seriously.
- Damn, why are all the dates mixed up? Why did they start a new calendar after these dark times? - I muttered, although in my home world they did the same thing once. - I can't even figure out what year it is. What if... I'm in the past? Before the Imperium was created. Is that even possible?
The thought sent a chill down my spine. Tzeentch's power was unimaginable, but to be able to transport his servants into the past? With that ability, he must have become the strongest of the Chaos Gods and completely subjugated everything.
And the bastard is still silent. He doesn't say a word, but he watches and waits for something. Or does he want me to figure it all out myself? I may be a servant, but what master isn't interested in a smarter servant? Smart servants are more useful, the main thing is that they don't become smarter than the master himself, otherwise anything can happen.
In any case, I had no time for long reflections. The world was changing rapidly, and I needed to change with it. While I was sitting here trying to guess Tzeentch's plans, my competitors were already plotting. So, having gathered for the journey, I set off again by car to the city. On the way, I stopped at a weapons shop, where every nobleman was welcome.
I bought a kind of stub revolver, as well as a sword. It's not that I was a master of fencing or that a sword was a super weapon, it was just a symbol of the power of the nobility. All important people wore decorated swords on their belts. And the more luxurious it looked, the more prestigious it was considered. They were also a status symbol, like an iPhone or a Rolex. And since I opened a business, I'll have to work hard on both personal and brand recognition.
However, I needed protection first and foremost. I hardly had enough money for professional security. Besides, I had serious suspicions about hiring mercenaries. After all, if the king controlled all the media, then all sorts of private military companies even more so. And that meant they could screw me over more easily: simply if the competitors brought in enough money. All the places at the trough were already divided up - they wouldn't let me in there.
That's why I showed up in the slums where they recently tried to rob me.
- Stop it, we came from around the corner, - a familiar voice rang out. - Oh, fuck... go to hell!
"Stop!" I barked, this time consciously controlling my strength, although due to the lack of emotions there was no chance of my psi-abilities manifesting. "I have a task."
- Go to hell, you fucking sorcerer!
- I'm not a sorcerer.
- I'm not an alcoholic!
- Do you need money? - Not wanting to argue, I simply took an envelope with bills sticking out from my bosom. - There is work.
- Now that's a different story, - all questions regarding my possible witchcraft disappeared from the alcoholic: after all, now all that remained in his mind was the desire to gain profit. - Should I rob someone? Or just set fire to someone? Knock money out of a debtor?
- Security and intelligence. I want your boys to watch my competitors' every move. Also, put a couple of big guys at my point to look menacing. If anything happens, the crowd should come running and create the appearance of strength.
- Are you fucking nuts? We'll be hanged for this. We rabble can't interfere with the nobility.
"You won't interfere," I explained calmly and measuredly. "I'm not asking you to sneak into their factories. And if anything happens, fight their mercenaries or personal guards. You don't have a chance anyway. You'll protect me from the same rabble that they might hire. Watch their machinations so that they don't give money to someone and so that a fiery cocktail doesn't fly into my house. And of course, ordinary thieves didn't interfere with me for fear of ending up with broken knees.
Why did I come here again? Because these bastards already knew me and once they had lost their shit, they ran away from me. No matter how you look at it, they fear and respect me. Which means it will be much easier to come to an agreement with them. Plus, you also need to understand that such rabble lives in an extremely simple black and white world. The one who is stronger is right. A clear hierarchy had to exist, because otherwise everything would go to hell too quickly.
The leader stood and thought for a while, then took out his cigarettes and continued thinking, exhaling smoke. This was a difficult decision and the fate of this gang would depend on it. Yes, many of them were marauders and thieves, drug addicts and possibly murderers, but they also had families, loved ones, some of their own goals and ambitions. Although they were at the bottom, they were also people, albeit dreaming that one day the roles would change. True, they were even more afraid of losing what little was left than others.
All this time I was standing practically surrounded, other bastards crept up silently and this time they were holding reinforcement bars, pipes and all sorts of other simple but dangerous weapons in their hands. And although I had a pistol and a sword, if I had just reached for the holster, they would have immediately pierced the back of my head. Besides, they won't hold back, because they will see the danger to their lives.
And the firearm itself was not a guarantee of victory in street fights. Moreover, it became a reason to kill you and take away your expensive toy, just to be on the safe side. Although there were some individuals, usually those who had never fought in their lives, who thought that a gun in their pocket put them several notches higher.
They knew nothing about the stopping power of a bullet. That a man on adrenaline, even after ten bullet wounds, can knock you down and smash your head. Yes, he will also die from his wounds, but only after he turns you into mincemeat. And there are few bullets, and the first blow usually landed in the back of the head. Or they would grab you by the scruff of the neck as you were leaving the entrance, after which they would set up a Singer machine, turning your belly into a colander.
So I wasn't even going to reach for my stub revolver, or my sword. The only chance to survive if something happened was to try using my psi abilities again and run away. In any other scenario, death awaited me: after all, even a lion can be put down by a crowd. And there were some guys looking at me through the windows who could have had at least a crossbow, or at most guns without serial numbers with a bunch of dead ones.
And I understood all this from the start: I was fully aware of it before I came here. Of course, the leader himself understood this, and it wasn't just because he was the leader of the local scum. If I weren't a nobleman, they would have killed me without distinction, but as it was... he was a bit scared. He didn't know exactly what the consequences of such a thing would be. He could only guess what punishment would follow for killing a nobleman, even if it was Mordred.
"So what?" I asked when the leader in front of me finished his cigarette.
- Screw you, there's no such thing as extra money. Give me the envelope.
— Payment per day based on the work. Two big guys, six eyes. Let's see how you cope, then we'll decide whether to expand or not.
- You're so fucking impudent. Did witchcraft really give you immortality?
- What are you going to do to me? Kill me and take the envelope? You're not a fool and you understand that the prospects of cooperation with me alive provide great benefits, - without blinking, I continued to look straight into the eyes of the bastard.
He in turn bared his teeth and took a step forward.
- You're either not afraid of death, or you're just a fool. Agreed.
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