I had been lost in thought and hadn't even noticed when I'd fallen asleep. I had no idea how long I'd slept, though it felt like an entire day.
When I finally woke up, it seemed I had regained all the strength this body could muster, enough for me to finally assess its capabilities. I no longer felt ill; the ache and heaviness were gone, and my mind felt clearer — that much was certain.
Such a miraculous improvement in Sokolov's body could only be explained by the strength of my mind and soul. There was no other way. I couldn't believe for a moment that the frail frame of the original body had managed to recover like this without my intervention.
I was starving. I wondered what time it was. Had my birthday already passed? Or was there still time to celebrate? I called for Varvara a few times, and soon she appeared, sleepy and anxious.
"Did something happen, Vlad?" she asked, peering closely at my face. "Is it bad?"
"What made you think that? I'm fine. I couldn't be better. Is there any dinner left, or has everyone eaten already?"
"Dinner?" she asked, surprised, and then smiled. "You do look a bit better. And... you don't seem quite yourself, sir. It's as if you've grown older overnight. More respectable, somehow."
"Who grows older overnight? Then again, perhaps I did. My birthday was yesterday, after all. Come now, bring me something to eat."
Pleased with my sudden recovery, she left to prepare a festive dinner. While I waited, I tried sorting through my thoughts again but only found chaos. I'd try again after a meal.
Dinner turned out to be chicken and potatoes. Nothing exotic. We had that kind of food in abundance, at least among those who could afford proper organic fare. It was almost a little insulting. I expected something more exotic from this entirely different world. Although one thing stood out. Something called kvass. I had to admit I liked it. It was strong enough to wake me up properly.
While I ate with obvious enthusiasm, Varvara sat beside me, smiling to herself. She didn't eat, despite my offering. Fine by me. The fact that she was simply here, close by, fit my plan anyway, since I needed to have a proper conversation with her and get as much of the missing information out of her as I could. Once I was through with the chicken, she returned with coffee. A pleasant, tart aroma drifted through the room, layered with something sharper. Brandy, by the smell of it. Strong, good quality.
"As you like it, with cognac. I bought it especially for a special occasion."
Cognac? Sokolov's memory helpfully informed me that it was just a type of brandy. There you go. No constitution to speak of, yet he drank cognac like a veteran. The coffee, however, turned out to be genuinely good. On my native Epsilum, something like that would have been considered a luxury.
"Sit down, Varvara. Let's have a chat."
She obediently took a seat and looked at me with a sad sort of smile.
"Tell me, are we at war or something?" I asked directly, not bothering to hide my ignorance from the woman. Somehow, I felt she would forgive me anything. Perhaps she would even come up with an explanation for my behavior before I had to.
"It's been going on for about ten years," she said, brushing imaginary crumbs from the table. "A long, bitter war. Everyone is fighting evil spirits... and we're fighting them too."
Well, that was something new. It would have been nice to have a few more details, though.
"Varvara, evil spirits are a broad term."
"What do you mean by broad? Evil spirits are evil spirits. Filthy bloodsuckers, sorcerers, the walking dead. Ghouls, too. I don't know all the names. Ugh." She spat on the floor and crossed herself. "They've killed so many people, it's scary to think about. And they just keep coming."
"Where are they coming from?"
"Who knows, sir? They open a hole between their world and ours, and then they crawl through it."
"That's strange. And what do these evil spirits want?"
"What do you think? They're eager to drive us out of this world, that's what they do. As soon as they get through, they start settling in."
I found her words interesting, though vague to the point of nonsense, and the whole topic seemed to unsettle her. A pity, I wasn't going to get much more out of her, at least not here and now. Still, it was something. Apparently, these invasions came through portals she called holes. Rudimentary, but helpful.
"Well, to hell with them, then," I said, waving a hand. Varvara, who had clearly had enough of the subject, looked relieved.
"That's right," she said. "You've never cared for military matters anyway, and it's better that way. The doctor says you should focus on your health, take more walks in the fresh air, not ask about war."
"And what about my family? Is there really no one left? Not a single soul?" I continued to gather crucial information.
I had probably gone too far, because Varvara suddenly began to cry.
"You're an orphan, Vlad," she said through tears. "I've been looking after you since they brought you here two years ago. You're still always sick. I keep the household running. Have you forgotten your family? Maybe you hit your head when you fell earlier..."
Alright, it seemed clear now why she fussed over me like a brooding hen. But I couldn't quite understand why I didn't really remember any of it myself. Maybe the memories would return over time. Who knew. I still couldn't form a full picture in my head. Everything was scattered, coming in fragments. It felt like someone had gone to great lengths to tamper with Sokolov's brain, just enough to blur part of his memory.
Of course, I could have been wrong, but for now, it all felt a bit too suspicious. Take the war, for instance. Let's say Sokolov hadn't been particularly interested in the subject. But even then, surely a young nobleman of seventeen would know who had attacked the empire and why.
If there had been some brain injury, that would be one thing. But he didn't seem dull or confused. He was sharp enough. I could only hope that my superior mind would lend him a bit of help, and that if there was any trauma, his brain would eventually recover.
I looked at the maid, who was still bawling like a child. She could cry for the whole village... I needed to change the subject.
"And what about the long journey you mentioned?"
At my question, she threw up her hands.
"The journey! Right! I completely forgot about the letter. I'll bring it now."
A letter? What letter? Oh, Lord of Empires. Could it be that I might finally get a straight answer to something? Learn something useful from someone other than this eternally grieving maid? I could hardly believe it.
Varvara came back into the room, holding a sheet of paper folded into quarters. She handed it to me with a kind of reverence.
"This letter is from your father," she said. "He told me to give it to you on the day you came of age, which was yesterday, when you turned seventeen."
I unfolded the sheet and began to read. The handwriting was his.
Vladimir, my son... Tomorrow, I will be executed on Red Square as a conspirator and traitor to the motherland. At least your mother and brother will escape this shame... Spit in the face of anyone who tells you that you are the son of a traitor, and never believe it. We have been slandered.
Remember these names and make them pay for their crimes: Saltykovs, Morozovs, and Bolotovs. If you live, take revenge. Let the insatiable creatures choke on their own blood.
I hug and kiss you tightly, my son.
P.S. When you turn seventeen, go and join the Planewalkers. Serve the Emperor and the motherland in this difficult time. For you, as a nobleman, this is a sacred duty. Remember this.
And you have no other path.
Your father, Mikhail.
I reread the letter twice, folded the sheet, and tossed it onto the table. Well, well. The further things went, the more questions I had. Just a few minutes ago, everything had seemed simpler. Now, with Sokolov's father claiming the family had been slandered, it all took on a very different tone. So, he wasn't a conspirator after all.
Assuming, of course, he hadn't lied to his own son. But why would he? No, it seemed he was telling the truth. And Vladimir still had flashes of a wealthy, dignified life, so the bit about the "insatiable creatures" might well have been justified. The Sokolov family had clearly owned something worth taking.
In any case, that was for later. Revenge was something best served cold. It also required money and strength, neither of which I had at the moment. And honestly, it was all too premature. You couldn't just charge forward, swinging a sword at the first mention of injustice. Planning was essential.
I glanced at Varvara, who was still sitting there with that mournful expression on her face, blinking away tears. She looked like a snail. I wondered if she'd read the letter. Not that I would get a straight answer...
Most likely, she had. Women were curious by nature.
"Here's another thing, sir," she said and handed me a ring. "Yours.
Noble. I was told to give it to you, too."
I took the ring and studied the crest: a silver falcon in flight on a scarlet field. Interesting. In my past life, I'd had a bird on my coat of arms too — a black raven on a gold field. The emblem of House Crass. A funny coincidence. Or maybe a little joke from the demoness? I didn't know.
I slipped the ring onto the ring finger of my right hand. It was just a bit too large. I'd have to find a jeweler to resize it, but for now I could wear it on my middle finger.
"Where did you get the letter and the ring?"
"Zaplatin brought it a long time ago. Timofey, you remember him," Varvara said, looking at me as though that should explain everything. "Your family's attorney."
I nodded. A smiling, gray-haired man of about fifty flickered through my memory. I didn't remember him clearly, only a few vague fragments, but they were positive ones. Most likely, he had been a family friend.
"I was also told to tell you that from this moment, you take full possession of all movable and immovable property," the maid added with a hopeful smile. "And you can now use all the money in the bank as you see fit."
Yes, if only there were anything left to possess or spend. The property was barely worth the name, and the money probably wouldn't last long. I didn't feel like getting into it now. I was already growing tired of talking with Varvara and listening to her nonsense — or rather, her fanciful interpretation of events: holes between worlds and evil spirits. We had eaten, had some coffee; that was quite enough for one evening.
From the images slowly filtering through my mind, it seemed that the technical level of this planet, compared to my native Epsilum, was slightly below average. That meant I'd better rely on other, more convenient sources of information.
"Listen, Varvara, where's my laptop and my phone? I know we're not exactly rich, but I had those, didn't I?"
"The doctor said you should stay away from the computer," she said warily. "Because of the fever and your headaches—" "Bring it over, please."
She choked on her indignation, but then her shoulders dropped.
Sighing, she stood up from the table.
"And the doctor also said that—" "And my phone too," I added before she could finish. "I'm my own doctor now."
After Varvara returned with a mournful face and handed over all the electronics Sokolov had owned, I found out it was nearly midnight. I told her that was all and that she should not disturb me anymore for the night.
Once I logged on to the worldwide web, which was called the "Internet" here, I dropped out of life until morning.
* * * The time spent at the computer had not been wasted. Within a few hours, I had gathered almost all the information and answers I needed.
First, I learned everything about my family's execution. According to the official version, a conspiracy had involved several influential families, including the Sokolovs. It had been exposed thanks to the efforts of the Imperial Secret Chancellery and the personal involvement of those same Saltykovs, Morozovs, and Bolotovs, who had long guarded the interests of the imperial Romanov family.
They claimed that all the conspirators had confessed to their crimes and had been executed. As a result, many heads had rolled, and because of my age, I had merely been exiled to Vetrovo.
The criminals' property had been confiscated in favor of the Empire and sold at auction. The families who had participated in uncovering the conspiracy had since greatly prospered and received unprecedented privileges. Part of the confiscated property had even ended up in their hands.
So everything was clear enough. Sokolov's father had been right — the whole story was murky and needed to be looked into. And if he really had been betrayed, then someone's backside definitely needed kicking.
Secondly, magic did exist in this world, that much I now knew for certain. Those who possessed it were called the Gifted and were divided into ten ranks. I hadn't bothered to memorize all those peculiar terms, but it was clear I'd have to study the subject in more detail later. What struck me as particularly interesting was that both nobles and commoners could be Gifted.
Strangely, despite all my efforts, I hadn't been able to find any information about the kind of magic the Sokolovs had possessed, even though similar data existed for other noble families. It seemed to have been erased from the network. I would have to figure it out on my own. I had no doubt that Vladimir had been Gifted, as I could sense his energy.
Thirdly, the war with those same evil spirits had indeed been raging for the past ten years across the entire planet. It was a full-scale invasion from a parallel world, aimed at destroying humanity and seizing the captured territories. At least, no other demands had ever been made. From the outside, that was exactly how it looked: as soon as the evil spirits stepped through the portal, the destruction began.
There was plenty of information online about what these evil spirits were. I had encountered many similar creatures during my travels, so nothing particularly surprised me. Of course, there were still some very unusual specimens unknown to me, but overall, it all seemed familiar enough.
So far, the attacks had been more or less successfully repelled in Europe, parts of Asia, regions of Africa. But in other areas, mostly across North and South America, and in those states unprepared for war, things looked far worse. There, the evil spirits practically won, turning once-thriving lands into desolation.
Fourthly, I also figured out who the Planewalkers were. They were Gifted individuals who had joined the Emperor's military to fight the evil spirits, called Planewalkers because they could enter the Portals. What happened inside those Portals, however, remained a mystery.
To my surprise, there were very few details about what actually took place within them. Apparently, not everyone was meant to know. Perhaps it was a military secret, or maybe the authorities simply didn't want to cause panic. There could have been many reasons. In any case, it wasn't particularly important for now. I would find out soon enough once I got there. I had already made my decision.
Planewalkers were trained at special Imperial Academies. The wealthier ones studied in the capital, while the rest went to simpler institutions in smaller cities. Being a Planewalker was considered prestigious, since for many people it was the only path to receiving nobility through military service.
By the time I closed the laptop, it was already dawning outside. My thoughts were a little scattered, but I had a rough understanding of what was going on. There were still many gaps, but I would fill them in over time.
I had to take my words back — Astarte wasn't such a bitch after all.
Things weren't that bad. I could live here, on Earth.
Now I needed to make an initial plan of action.
First: as soon as I had fully recovered, I would get out of this hole and go to Saratov to enroll at the local Imperial Academy of Planewalkers.
In my case, that was the best option. It wasn't as expensive as the one in the capital, and more importantly, if there really had been a conspiracy against my family, it was better to stay under the radar for now and steer clear of any spotlights. Everything had its time.
Second, I needed to find out what was going on with my magic. It was a matter that couldn't be delayed, so I would address it first thing after some rest.
Third: I needed to sort out my affairs. I didn't even know how much money I had, and I was supposed to be the head of a noble family.
That was enough for now. Everything else could be dealt with along the way.
I got up from the table, stretched, and frowned. My head was throbbing from the overload of new information. It wasn't that I couldn't handle it, but apparently Sokolov had neglected his brain for so long that even this was too much for him.
A shower would be nice. I hoped there was one somewhere in the house — I'd have to look. By the way, did I even have a robe, or would I have to go in my underwear?
Back on Epsilum, I had a dozen robes made of different fabrics just for walking around the house in the morning. Here... it seemed I had none.
It wasn't that I was embarrassed; I could walk around naked if I wanted to.
It just wouldn't be decent.
Robeless, I stepped out of the room and into a small dining area.
Now, where could the bathroom be? I stood there, trying to figure out which way to go, when Varvara appeared. I began to wonder if she ever actually went to bed or if she just wandered around the house all night.
"What's wrong again, Vlad? Are you sick?"
Why did she always assume I was sick?
"Why would I be sick? I'm perfectly fine. I'm just getting ready to take a shower."
"Then you should have called me."
"Consider this your invitation. Just don't try to bathe me or anything. I can manage."
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she froze for a moment. Then she came to her senses and waved her hand.
"You go on. I'll bring you some fresh underwear and a robe."
With that, she ran off, leaving me alone again. I still didn't know where the bathroom actually was, but I couldn't ask her now. She'd think I was completely hopeless. So I just walked in the general direction she had gestured.
My intuition worked. Soon enough, I found the bathroom, and to my delight, it even had a shower stall. Perfect. I never liked long baths.
I turned on the water and stood under the hot stream, enjoying the sensation. Everything in life really was changeable and fleeting. Just a day ago, I'd been a nobleman for whom, one might say, life had ended. And now I was a nobleman again, for whom everything was just beginning.
Then I heard the bathroom door creak open.
"Vladimir, aunt told me to bring you fresh clothes and a towel."
Liza. Of course. Who else could it be?
"Yes, just leave it on the counter. Thank you."
A minute passed, but I didn't hear the door close. Instead, the shower door opened, and Liza, completely naked, slipped inside.
Not that I was against it — she was a pretty girl — but this was bold, even for her age. At the very least, she could have asked. Maybe young Vladimir would have been flattered, but I was Silvian. Someone had to teach her a bit of etiquette.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, my voice cutting through the silence.
"Master..."
"Didn't they teach you manners?"
"I just thought..."
"Next time, before climbing into someone's bed, try asking first, all right?"
Her face turned crimson. She froze for a moment, then bolted from the stall like a startled doe. Ah, the foolishness of youth. Hopefully, a lesson learned. Beauty was a powerful weapon, but only if used sensibly.
After finishing my shower, I headed back to my room and collapsed into bed.
I had landed myself in quite a situation. Not that I was upset. Quite the opposite, I was genuinely curious how quickly I could untangle this mess of misfortune.
It was a shame that nothing was clear about Sokolov's magic. Why was there no trace of it in his memory? Could things really be so bad that I couldn't use neither his nor my own abilities? That would be a nasty surprise. Without magic, everything would become much harder.
No, I needed an answer to that question as soon as possible. First thing in the morning.
With that thought, I turned onto my side and fell asleep.