EVERTTHING HERE CONTAINS MATURE THEMES. Home for random fiction, transferred here from allnightsong2. NFSW. 18+ please. Stories may have have (will likely have) sexual content and disturbing imagery.
It was the best night of his life and that hurt in ways he didn't know how to accept. They didn't have sex. It was making love, but in a way he'd never even imagined. It was slow yet not hesitant. It was a passion that refused to be rushed. His hands had glided over the curve of hip and the line of thighs. His lips had explored her breasts and found the perfect nipples that capped them.
Her kisses were somehow gentle but incredibly intense. Her arousal had matched his. He was achingly hard and his fingers found her to be dripping with juices and yet they didn't rush to join their need. He was lost in the strangest wonder and didn't want it to end. When he finally entered her she had moaned out and drew him fully in and held him tight.
Three times. Three times with only enough time between for kisses and the exchange of looks that said more than words. Her body was perfect, her sex a temple of delight, and nothing had ever felt as good. When she gasped out his name and he felt her orgasm absolutely nothing else mattered. Her beauty was pure and his amazement at being able to share ecstasy with her took his breath away.
"I'm sorry if this is cruel." She said after the third time as they lay, still joined and still drifting in bliss. "But it's never been this good! Oh, Haven! Oh my darling! To have even this one night makes me feel blessed!"
"You're too beautiful for this world. It doesn't deserve you. Nor do I." He said and lowered his lips to hers. "Why me? After all this time. Why me?"
"I was told I would only ever have one love and I believed them." She said and he saw the change. She had something that she feared to tell him. "I was lucky to find Afshin."
"He was lucky to find you. Gods, you're magnificent!"
"Don't end your engagement." She said and turned her eyes away. "We could never have a family. I'll never be a mother. I'm barren. The doctors told me so. I'm not the one you might hope me to be."
"You don't know my heart yet. You can't have children? And that makes you less of woman how?" He said and ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. "Did your family tell you that? That you couldn't find love, that you couldn't be a proper wife because of something that you have no say over? Are your people like that?"
"What man wants a wife that cannot give him a son?"
"What man loves a woman because of just that one thing?" He said and that caused her to look back to him. "As you told me. This is a cold world. And it grows no better. The idea of inflicting this life upon a child has troubled me since I first became a man."
"Don't tell me things that I want to hear. Don't do that. Only the truth. Please!"
"Look into my eyes. Listen to my heart." He said as he sank into the depths of her beautiful dark eyes. "The world is complicated and cruel. I'm neither of those things. I am what you see. I mean the words I say. When I fell in love with you I fell in love with you. You. Not you, the potential mother to a child of mine. Not the you that others have said you should be. I fell in love with a spectacular woman. Beautiful and courageous and caring and generous. I fell in love with exactly who I see and feel right now."
"This is foolish. You aren't thinking sensibly." She said but didn't look away. Their eyes weren't hiding anything. "I'm older than you. I'm thirty-five. I'll never be a mother. Think about that. Actually think about what this means."
"You can't make my heart change. Your words are words that I don't need to think about. Because those things mean nothing to me." He said and saw the tears glistening in her eyes. She saw the truth that he couldn't, and wouldn't, hide. "I'm lucky then. That the world lied to you about who you are and could be. Because all those lies allowed me to find you."
As she slept in his arms there in the small hours a realization came. As he watched her face, relaxed and at peace unlike what he was used to, and listened to her soft breathing, he understood. Who she was and why he was there. Ursula was his goddess but Yasmine was a woman. Someone who knew how ugly the world was and the pain that was sometimes required to keep living. Yasmine knew his world. It wasn't words or stories to her. It was her reality as much as it was.
Ursula was spectacular but she didn't occupy the dirty shadows of the world. She was Sentarian. A full citizen. Her family was just barely middle-class, but just barely counted. She hadn't ever really had to struggle. She didn't know what being hungry really felt like. She had never had to count entire days between meals.
She was his aspiration in the flesh. A hope and a dream of finding a better life. She was brilliant and had earned her position at her job but she didn't understand how it felt to bow down to a boss and accept undue blame because you didn't dare stand your ground. She had never felt the burning in the stomach that came from swallowing your humiliation time and time again. She couldn't quite grasp the type of resignation he dealt with daily. She enjoyed her job. He had to work simply to be able to eat. He had to work or end up in prison charged with "being deliberately unproductive and a burden to the Fatherland".
It wasn't her fault and he didn't want her to ever know how these things felt. He loved her but was never quite sure he had the right to. Before she had asked him to look into Kyriena Kaslauskienè he had known his place in the world. He had thought that he understood just how harsh life was. In the last five weeks he had discovered how little he really knew.
He knew the names and faces of twelve women who had been fighting, just as he did, to survive. But because they were women they had been targeted by a beast. Because they were single women without families their lives meant nothing to the government. Their disappearances didn't merit an investigation. He knew now what those women were like because he held in his arms one just like them.
He didn't have enough faith. The future was just empty words because he didn't honestly believe that he'd see it. Most days it didn't matter. On some days he didn't want to see it at all. When he was with Ursula he wanted to believe. When he was her she was his world. But twelve hours a day he was at the factory. Even if they moved in together he'd still spend more time away from her than with her.
Between what he had learned and what he had seen, and what he heard when among Christoff and his friends, he was beginning to believe that things were even worse than he'd ever imagined. So it made sense now. That the government worked so hard to keep the average citizen ignorant and isolated within the day's struggles. Why submit to the indignities, why suffer so much for meager rewards, to support a government that did so very poorly by its people? If the Fatherland was so glorious, if it was so magnificent, how did monsters exist in the midst of the citizens? The man on the street could be arrested without reason. Meanwhile officials took bribes and traded favors with criminals on a daily basis.
Tonight at least six citizens would be murdered somewhere in this very city. In this supposedly safe and perfect city that was the seat of power. As long as the dead were just common folk there wouldn't even be official reports. Haven only knew the number because Pruitt had a distant cousin in the Ministry of Population Registration. In the summer when the heat made every day a test in one's ability to endure misery, the number would double. Even triple during a heat wave.
He wasn't going to beat the odds. He knew that. Had always known it. Yasmine Alizadeah deserved more than what she had been given. Maybe, and he was far from sure of it, but maybe if he could do that? Give her something, enough of something, to save her from this despair that he knew too well. If he could make the world better for her that would be at least one thing he would know he'd accomplished.
He could die knowing that he had done one great thing with his meager life.
.
"Thank you. For the night. All of it." She said when she woke. "I will remember this, and smile, for the rest of my life."
"It isn't over yet." He said and the echoes that hid within his words made her eyes go wide. "I can't explain anything yet. Can you forgive me for that?"
"I don't know." She said in a voice barely audible. "I suppose we will find out."
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"Your God has no mercy and never forgives us for being the proof that He makes mistakes. There is no love there. His scorn is unconditional. We are all damned. Sooner or later."
"Songs of Heresy" Yanta Gigoba
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"Comrade Culyagaer. We wish to speak to you."
Haven froze in place. Everyone around him did too, but just for a moment. Then their instincts returned and their eyes went elsewhere as their bodies by habit carried them into the factory floor. Haven envied them. They weren't facing a High Inquisitor that knew them by name. A High Inquisitor accompanied by a captain of Internal Control, a lieutenant of the elite Lifeguard Division, and two troopers cradling submachineguns made at this very complex, in Manufactory #5. All dressed in the solid black uniforms of State Security Forces.
"Come with us. Please." The Inquisitor said in a voice somehow both sonorous and dry. The man had a long face with odd angles and the palest gray eyes Haven had ever seen. "Rest your nerves. You've done nothing wrong. Quite the contrary. Just now we simply require your expert opinion. You've already been clocked in. You'll lose no pay."
"Thank you for the courtesy. It is very much appreciated, sir." Haven said as he found himself surrounded by a nightmare. They were taking him towards the gate beyond which only management was allowed. "I will answer anything that I can, to the best of my ability."
"Of course you will. Do you prefer coffee or tea?"
"Sir? Uhm, ah, coffee. Coffee would be grand sir!"
"Viesjka, see to it." The Inquisitor said and Haven almost stumbled in surprise as the lieutenant turned and headed off. Apparently to get coffee. "I understand your anxiety. Drastic changes have occurred here. We are making the appropriate changes. Let further wait for now."
Haven couldn't complain about that and wouldn't have even if he thought he had legitimate grounds for it. The Inquisitor didn't seem like an actual man. He was a full head taller than Haven and everything, from the appearance to the form to the mannerisms, embodied intimidation. He scarce noticed the rest of the escort. The Inquisitor wore no weapon but still seemed more dangerous than any of the others.
He was vaguely aware of the spotless floors and well painted walls of the corridor they moved through. He noticed that it was pleasantly warm and that the air smelled clean. No hot metal or grease or oil. He hadn't even started his shift yet but he still felt dirty. He didn't wonder if he was about to be arrested. That was something he couldn't predict or control.
They entered an office that had a plaque stating 'Production Supervisor' on it. The room beyond that door totally derailed his thoughts. It didn't seem like it belonged in a factory. Anywhere within a factory.
The floor was polished black oak. A large, as in the size of the entire floor of his apartment large, handwoven and clearly expensive rug was centered in the room. The largest desk he'd ever seen, perhaps made of mahogany, sat in the center of the rug. There was a credenza along the left wall, floor to ceiling bookcases lining the right. Overstuffed chairs flanked a glass topped table in one corner; what appeared to be a day bed was in another. There was no overhead lighting. The room was illuminated by a dozen lamps of various types, all with cut glass shades colored like flowering plants.
"Sit here." The Inquisitor indicated a chair before the desk and Haven did as he was told. The tall and now almost frightening man took a seat behind the desk. "Rindall, if you would please."
The captain stepped up to Haven's left. He held a black box, clearly some type of electronic device. He tilted it to show Haven it's top. There were three meters, a half dozen switches with accompanying lights. The captain clicked four of those switches. Lights turned amber, red, and then green as the needles of the meters bounced and then settled within a marked range in the middle.
"We are not being recorded. This device ensures that none may eavesdrop." The captain explained as he set the device on the polished top of the huge desk. "What we do is not the business of any other. Despite what certain departments believe. No one but those present will hear what is said."
The lieutenant entered the room with a tray of coffee and that was the cue for the armed troopers to leave. Coffee was poured for him (poured for him by an officer!) and if he was meant to relax due to the reassurances and courtesy it did not work.
"Haven Culyagaer, I am Master High Inquisitor Ingthold. Let me explain just why you are here." The man said and Haven still hadn't seen the man blink. Not once. "Hmmph. Yes. Here it is. Senior Lathe Operator Culyagaer. It has been twenty-two months since you last did not exceed your quota by at least ten percent. It has been thirty-four months since you last missed a quota. And that miss was by a mere .03%. Your quality ranking is literally unsurpassed. 98.31% of your work meets the highest quality standards. You have never registered a sick day in your entire work history. You are skilled, motivated, and professional. Even when those supervising you aren't."
"I do my best, Inquisitor."
"You clearly do. In fact you should have been made a master and perhaps even a shop lead by now. Except that would have required your former managers to give you a pay rise. And we know, as well as I'm sure you do, why that didn't happen and where most of the money went."
The Inquisitor tapped the desk and swept one arm around to indicate the rooms furnishings. Haven's eye followed the motion and in doing so his eyes noticed the blank, yet clearly disapproving, expressions on the faces of the two officers flanking him.
"Those we have arrested are all liars. Trying to cast blame on each other and not one a man enough to accept responsibility." The Inquisitor said and pulled Haven's eyes back to that odd and grim countenance. "Thieves, traitors, and cowards. We need an honest voice. From a good citizen who clearly possesses the intelligence to have been aware. To be clear, I don't expect you to know about or explain what went on in these offices. We know though, we do know, that your comrades hold you in high regard. So. We want you to help us "
"Inquisitor?" Haven said, his mind knocked off balance by what sounded like a request, not an order. "I don't know what I can tell you that will be useful. Of course I'll answer what I can!"
"I am not a fool. I know how you view me. I don't want you to fear this. I know that the average worker doesn't trust officials. We are rulebound martinets. Ignorant of reality. We are the enemy." The Inquisitor said and a ghost of a smile was the reply to Haven's blink of surprise at such an admission. "I spent four years working in a tannery before I was accepted into the Imperial Academy. That's one of the reasons I was assigned to this."
"I would not lie to you, Inquisitor! I'd never dream of it! I will be nothing but honest!"
"The problem with honesty is that it doesn't necessarily include pertinent information that was not specifically asked for." The Inquisitor said and took a sip of coffee. Haven followed suit because those gray eyes clearly expected it. "If we have to do a thorough and meticulous inspection of this entire facility it will greatly hamper production when it's most needed. I know that you don't have knowledge about this entire operation. But you could find out things that might not be freely offered to me or mine."
Haven felt a quiet terror that was wrapped in despair. They wanted him to be an informant. Which everyone would know. If he said yes he would become a pariah. If he said no? Well that wasn't an option. You didn't say no to an Inquisitor. Not unless you wanted to vanish into the work camps to never be seen again.
"Gentleman? If you would?"
Haven's fear became terror as the two officers rose wordlessly and left the room as well. Leaving him alone with an Inquisitor who literally had the power of life and death over him.
"Haven Culyagaer. I fully intend to improve this operation so that it matches its potential. A potential clearly illustrated by your work." The Inquisitor said in a voice that suddenly had actual human inflection in it. "Nobody still working here is going to be punished. Nothing you tell me can further doom those whose acts already sealed their fate. I need to know, before it becomes an issue, where shortcomings are. What needs improvement or repair. I need to know the truth that has been subdued or denied until now."
Haven nodded but couldn't believe. The world didn't work this way. The government damn sure didn't work this way.
"Haven Culyagaer. My name is Kestrel Rueger Ingthold. My father was Anson Matthias Ingthold. I swear on my father's soul that I want to see this operation reach its potential and I need your help. And I can help you in return."
Haven's mouth fell open at the speaking of an honor oath.
"I wasn't high born. And I know what those words mean. Which is why I said them."
"I don't know exactly what's going on here."
"I know. Trust me. I know that very well. I did work as a tanner. At the Crossbeck Leatherworks in Gleissen." The Inquisitor said and leaned back in his chair. For the first time the man actually blinked. "The work was horrible but life was simpler. Here is further proof that I trust you. The government is a maze of spiders all spinning webs. Everyone deliberately pitted against all others. Fighting for funds and favor. Always leaping upon any perceived weakness. There is no cooperation unless it's specifically ordered."
"With all due respect you aren't reassuring me. The opposite really."
"I understand. I wouldn't trust me either if I were you." The Inquisitor said and smiled. Again it didn't reassure. Then the man pulled a thick envelope out of a metal tray and placed it before Haven. "This is for you. I hope it appropriate compensation for the distasteful task you see ahead of you."
"Oh. Uhm. Thank you."
"It isn't money. I hope you find it better than anything that simple."
"I, uhm, I see."
"Your friends are extraordinarily clever. To be expected really, from successful smugglers, but still they excel beyond that. Please! Of course I know of them. I also have no intentions of interfering with them. They aren't my responsibility. Neither is the name in that envelope. But I'm impressed at your, and theirs, initiative, dedication, and honor."
"What...what is in this envelope?"
"All the personal information on Davion Metetiere. The man responsible for the kidnapping, rape and murder of twelve women in Goldenrod Hill." The man said and nodded at Haven's astonishment. "You were on the right path. You and your friends lack the resources I have at my disposal. You might have eventually caught up to him. However, I wouldn't have known where to look without their having given me a point from which to start."
"You know the man responsible? And he's yet free?"
"I am not the security services. Those incompetent idiots. I knew nothing about these events until we began investigating you while preparing arrest warrants for the management here." Ingthold said and ran a long finger along the sharp edge of his jaw. "As I observed your activities it piqued my curiosity. Once I determined what you were about I used my extensive resources to find for you the answer you have been seeking."
"You won't arrest hin?"
"Put this in the hands of those buffoons? They would find a way to fuck it up. Besides." Ingthold said and smiled a perfectly nasty smile. "As hard as you and your friends have worked I think you deserve the right. To be the ones to dispense justice."
"Is that allowed? For us to do that?"
"It is if I say so. And I say so." Ingthold said and then gestured at the anti-eavesdropping device. "I take care of my own. Those who help me are friends. I trust no others and you shouldn't either. For now? You can go. Take this to your comrades. Your friends. Avenge these women. And I don't recommend mercy. He deserves none. After that?"
"Yes?"
"Will you help me?"
"You're asking?"
"Yes. I am asking."
"I will help you. To the fullest of my abilities. With utmost energy and enthusiasm."
"We will start tomorrow." Ingthold said and dipped his head in thanks. "Let your friends know that I respect their abilities and that they are safe in at least as far as I'm concerned "
"I will." Haven said, stood up, tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket and bowed formally before turning and taking his leave from the strangest encounter of his life.
"The fuck you say! The bloody fucking godsamn Hell you say! Fuck's sake, lad! You still come here after that?"
"I don't think that it matters, Benjy. A Master High Inker? He could have us if he wanted us. Did you look in the envelope, Hav?"
"I did, Chris. And you lot were right. He's used a fake identity to rent vehicles. A different vehicle for each victim. And he rented a warehouse in yet another name, down to canals." Haven said and handed the thick envelope to his friend. "His father is a minor Lord but he himself was disowned. But with a stipend. I guess to make sure he stayed away."
"That's the fuck?" Holmbrau said as he peered over Christoff's shoulder at a large black and white photo. "He looks like a twat. Typical prissy twat. Not a monster though."
"He lives in West Winds. Rents an apartment in Goldenrod." Christoff said as he examined the neatly typed pages prepared for them. "On Grand Boulevard. Seems he used to go to Bentham to get drugs and whores and he'd bring them there."
"He went to medical school but didn't graduate. He was kicked out over suspicions that he was providing abortions." Haven said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was going to need it. "He was disowned after raping a maid and getting her pregnant and then attacking her when she wouldn't agree, on religious grounds, to an abortion. It's scary how much you got right about him."
"How the bloody fuck do we trust an Inker? It's probably a setup! We go to get this nasty little cunt and get ourselves nicked and executed!"
"Benjy, he knows who we are and what we do and where we work. If he wanted he could nick us now." ibn Salim said as he took several pages of the report for himself to examine. "Smuggling is already a death sentence offense. Did you see this, Safety? Damn."
"What, Mosin? How could anything be worse?" Christoff asked but then took the offered page. After a few moments he looked up in shock. "He lived down the coast in East Sanctuary two years ago. Sixteen women in fourteen months there. Same methods and manner."
"Inquisitor Ingthold said it was our work that pointed him in the right direction." Haven said as he poured himself a second whiskey. The first would never be enough. "He's Master High. He knows how to get what he wants. So he just looked to see where this shitter was before this. I'm guessing there was where our monster started, but then he got spooked by something and came here."
"Twenty-six in all? Fuck!" Pruitt said and shook his head. "The same? For sure?"
"Working class women living alone. Twenty-three to thirty years old." ibn Salim said and sighed heavily. "No bodies ever found. Safety, why would that Inker give him to us?"
"He said we earned it. That he wouldn't have noticed himself without us. Well, you lot. Mostly." Haven said as his head spun and he poured his third drink. "He said secpro would probably fuck it all up. A noble, even a disowned noble, would have lawyers. Yeah. And...well."
"What? What else he say?"
"He said," Haven, face red and eyes watering from the third shot he'd downed, looked at the others. "He said show no mercy. The man deserves none."
"You should stay here, Safety. You don't need to see this."
"I do though, Mosin. I do." Haven said and looked at Christoff. So he would understand too. "I need to see for myself that he's gone. To really believe. And know. That monsters can look like anyone but that they can be destroyed."
"You sure, lad? It's gonna be ugly."
"Good. He destroyed beauty. His end should be ugly." Haven said softly, feeling the weight he was choosing to pick up and carry. "I want it to be a bad memory. I want it to be a thing that's awful. Godawful. Because that's what any memory of this bastard should be."
"That's settled then." Christoff said as he picked up a heavy satchel. "Let's go and pay evil unto evil."
.
It wasn't easier to do but it was more bearable once they discovered that Davion Metetiere had taken trophies. Recorded his atrocities in word and with photographs. Kept various objects. Jewelry, locks of hair, and far, far worse. Seeing the evidence made Haven go completely numb. His companions went into a cold fury that was terrifying to share a room with.
"Your praying days are done, fucker." Pruitt said as he choked the man to silence the murderer's sudden and desparate appeals to God. "First you'll see the tears of your blessed creator, then you're for the fires of Hell. But first? We gonna get you primed up proper in full hough. Aye. You need to learn the flavor of proper penitence."
They broke a bone for each victim the man had claimed. Pruitt and ibn Salim did the rough work. Holmbrau kept the monster from slipping into shock and made sure the restraints didn't loosen. They used the man's own methods against him. Christoff read off the list of crimes and victims. Haven was merely the witness but at no point did he feel pity. He'd seen what was left of Kyriena Kaskoulienè. On a shelf in a jar filled with formaldehyde.
As the man neared death after many long hours, but still too quickly, the others told the beast their names. "So you can tell the devil who gave him this gift." Holmbrau said. Nobody expected Haven to follow suit, but he crouched down, heedless of the blood and other fluids on the floor, and spoke calmly into the man's one remaining ear.
"I am Haven Lugan Culyagaer. Son of Hergren and Ariel. You aren't a beast nor master nor monster. You're a pathetic man and nobody will find you either. Unmissed and unmourned you will pass from this world. I will say my first prayer ever. Asking for your eternal torment. I hope that the devil is real. You're going to find out either way."
.
"You alright, lad?"
"I'm fine." Haven said and breathed in the comparatively fresh air on the banks of the canal. "Neither God nor the government cared so we did what needed doing."
"You've a strong stomach, son."
"It's all about perspective. You know?" Haven said had a brief recollection of men on fire running for help that couldn't help them. "I've seen good men die horribly. What that bastard did, what he was? He didn't get a tenth of what he deserved."
"Got spare boots for ya. Anything that got blood on it we burn." Pruitt said and looked up at the first falling flakes of the next snowfall. "Pogues are fucking stupid as stones but never admit it. We did their fucking job for 'em but give the cunts a scrap of evvy and they'll try to pin us to it too. Even with all that's in there."
"Seems the thing they'd do."
"We gotta trust your Inker now. Or start running for our lives starting tonight."
"He plays a different game." Haven said as next to him Pruitt matched his pipe. "I'm not sure what if any rules he follows."
"You're willing to live at his mercy?"
"It can't be any worse than God's mercy." Haven said as thick snowflakes began to land on the sleeves of his work jacket.
.
He didn't sleep that night at all. He wasn't sure who he was now. Was he less than he had been that morning? To have been party to such acts as he could never have before imagined. He had seen the evidence of Davion Metetiere' monstrousness. He had seen what horrors another took pleasure from.
Metetiere couldn't be the only one. So his world held hidden how many abominations masked as normal men? In his mind he believed that Metetiere had deserved everything that had been inflicted upon him but his heart still ached. He had stood in the darkness and been an observer to carefully meted out agony. Was it acceptable because they were exacting retribution? Was it righteous to be inhumane to a monster?
He didn't feel guilt. Just a sick sort of confusion. His feelings about his government were even more complicated than usual. Those within it could find and stop people like Metetiere but those whose task it actually was were incapable. Master High Inquisitor Ingthold had given them this gift. The chance to keep word bond and dispense justice and revenge both.
He knew now, far too well, what men were capable of. The horrors capable of being inflicted by both the evil and the righteous. The fact was that the resources existed to catch monsters but the will to make use of those resources was absent most of the time.
His world now encompassed his personal experience with both beauty and the utter grotesqueiry of extreme violence. The difference, or so he told himself, was that some had restraint and only unleashed their brutality upon the deserving. But then, maybe the monsters thought of themselves that way too
His world had changed and there was no changing it back. A thousand years of sleep could not alter that fact.
"Gentlemen. Senior Lathe Specialist Culyagaer is going to act as our liaison. He has the knowledge of this facility and what it does, and the respect of his comrades. They trust him. I am tasking each of you to ensure that the department heads, shop leads, and shift foremen do nothing to undermine that trust."
Haven stood, stone-faced and motionless, as Master High Inquisitor Ingthold gave orders to the nineteen military officers who were overseeing the reorganization and improvement of the entire forgeworks. Each officer was in charge of eight to twelve mid-level managers. Each civilian manager would have six to fifteen shift leads under their responsibility. Depending upon the department.
Technically there were thirty-seven distinct 'shops' spread across seven buildings. According to a chart upon the wall there were 7,883 machine operators, 5,114 floor assistants or apprentices, 1,162 specialized technicians, 467 maintenance and 945 supply and administrative personnel. Over 15,000 people that just one single person, Haven Culyagaer, was expected to be the ombudsman for.
He was neither prepared nor, in his own opinion, capable of carrying out this task. The Inquisitor had given Haven a special armband. Black cording, silver threaded fabric, and stitched in red the letters 'D.S.I.F.I.' Which stood for Designated Special Investigator For Improvement. None of his comrades were going to know that that was what the letters stood for. They'd recognize the colors of the Inquisitors Branch though.
He also had a clipboard and a satchel. The satchel was full of floor diagrams, machine blueprints, and productivity reports. He was expected to mark on these the problems and suggested solutions. More important than that was the single sheet bearing the signature of the Grand High Inquisitor that stated that 6.2% of any operational savings would be paid out as a bonus to the man who presented the idea for a valid improvement. Money meant more than any praise.
"Spread the word. Make sure that it's understood. Comrade Culyagaer?"
"Yes, Inquisitor?" Haven said and forced his doubts and racing thoughts to go dormant. He was here to follow orders. Period. "What are your instructions, sir?"
"I want you to be thorough. There is no timetable you must meet. If you appear to be in a rush others will misread that urgency." Ingthold said and pinned Haven in place with his ghostly eyes. "I want full and accurate information. Take your time but do it properly. That's something you're clearly capable of."
The inference was unmistakable. Haven was becoming convinced that this man never said a word that wasn't meant and necessary. He also believed that the Inquisitor operated outside of normal circles of command and responsibility and that those whom the man actually answered to were people Haven didn't want to know about.
"We have an understanding. You and I. We share knowledge few know." The Inquisitor said after the door had closed behind the last departing officer. "You are clever and so clearly wonder why I'm here overseeing this. You'd never ask. Or even admit to the thoughts. Now. I clearly pose a danger. I know your friends. I know what's been done. I provided the information but you took the actions. Do you trust me that much?"
"No. But the prize you gave was worth whatever cost may come." Haven said because he was too exhausted to play this game properly. "You want more though. You aren't petty. I'm not worth the effort and investment of manipulating me for something so small."
"Tell me more."
"About what?"
"About what you think. What you've heard. What you believe is coming."
"You know more than I ever could. What can I tell you that you don't already know?'
"You can tell me the things I can't know for certain. Because my position, despite our claims, doesn't allow me to know everything and see everywhere."
"Is it true that your ministry kidnapped and holds prisoner Saikosa Thindaphrandapah?"
"You know his actual name! I'm impressed. Go on."
"I've heard he was working on a more efficient gas operation blowback method that could greatly increase the cyclical rate of automatic weapons. That would require high grade steel. Maybe an alloy of, say, titanium. To deal with the increased heat and pressure in the receiver."
"It also requires cartridges with minimal variation in tolerance. Kiondo Manufacturers have solved that problem."
"War is coming. If you have functioning and successful prototypes for Thindaphrandapah's system and it's put into mass production it could be a very unpleasant surprise for our enemies when they face it."
"You're even smarter than I thought." Ingthold said and grinned with just a hint of teeth showing. "This factory has one of the highest baseline skill ratings on the continent. Help me get your comrades prepared. Much of the machinery is already built. Those will be installed here if I determine it to be the best fit. We can, here in this place, make the deadliest personal weapons ever built."
"It would be a great honor, sir."
"Spare me the proper citizen good comrade bullshit. There's no need for it between us. Here. Here is a secret. My offer to you to inspire actual trust." Ingthold said and moved until he was uncomfortably close to Haven. Until there was nothing to see but the Inquisitor. "I owe no allegiance to the Great Leader. Only while he serves a purpose do I find value in obedience. If the corruption he embodies and encourages becomes too great a detriment, there are plans in place to replace him. And all of his toadies."
"That's treason!"
"Technically yes. My allegiance is to our country though." The Inquisitor said and then leaned even more closely so that Haven thought he was about to be kissed. "No nation can place it's entire fate into the hands of but one man and expect to survive. You desired but a simple life. However. This isn't a simple world. You can't rely on the government, or the system, or society. But if you are my friend? If you work with me with all the dedication and intelligence and guile you possess? As a friend you can rely on me. Nobody, not even the Great Leader himself, touches my friends."
"Why me?"
"You are everything that is right with the common man but taken to a higher level. You have intelligence but also common sense. Discretion is reflexive for you." Ingthold said and smiled in a way both terrifying yet mesmerizing. "I've been you. I've known too many like you that were lost because the system is blind. I saw the hints and traces but now you've shown me more. So you're in it now. Because we are friends. From this moment. You and I. Does that frghten you?"
"Yes. But so what? Life is frequently frightening." He admitted as his mind rapidly did calculations of threat assessment. "I could die any day. On the job. In the street. The Black Watch could take me. A monster could target me. So I've only one real question."
"What's in it for you."
"Yes."
"You are definitely one of my kind. So let me explain..."
"Comrades, you already know what we accomplished, what we were able to produce even with a corrupt and now disgraced management. The Ministries of Procurement, Industrial Production, Armaments, and the Defense Ministry all have taken an interest in seeing this forgeworks reach its potential. Not through increased workloads but through efficiency. We have all dealt with the consequences of our previous managements apathy. Worn out tools, damaged and dangerous machines, shortages in materials. It is the intentions of Master High Inquisitor Ingthold to correct all these shortcomings. But they can't fix what they don't know about."
"This bonus thing? That's straight up legitimate?"
"Yes. I've seen the account set aside for payouts." Haven told a grizzled master mechanic, the spokesman for the two dozen shift leads from Shop#2, Building #7 who were gathered in the loading bay of West Docks #2A. "I've also seen the ledger of the funds allocated for repairs and upgrades. They already know what we can do under poor leadership and in inadequate circumstances. They're looking to give us the chance to prove that we're as good as we know we are."
"You're clearly getting something out of this." A lean and dirty shift lead said and glanced at his comrades. "What's in it for us?"
"Our contracts only specify a ten hour shift. That's all we've ever been paid for. That ends today." Haven said and felt every eye fix on him. "The shifts will remain twelve hours, with the extra two paid at time plus. Meaning you'll receive sixty-eight hours pay instead of sixty each week."
"I'll believe that when I receive it from the paymaster."
"Fair enough. Can't ask you for else." Haven said and nodded at the assemblage. "But for now? Tell me what you need addressed. I won't take names. Just give me something to start on so that you can see that these changes are going to happen."
.
Haven wouldn't tell any what he was getting from Ingthold. Even if he hadn't been bound by an unspoken oath he would not have shared the information. His price would not reflect well upon him. It would make him appear to be an informant. Because he certainly couldn't tell any other why he trusted the Inquisitor. That trust was the very foundation for what Haven was receiving.
Christoff and his mates had been removed from the records of the security services and were on a 'do not watch' list. That list also included Haven, Yasmine Alizadeah, and a handful of trusted friends like Rupp. Yasmine would now receive a proper widow's pension. He himself was pre-approved for a residency permit and was 'clean-listed' for available apartments. His food allowance was nearly doubled because he was now an 'ad hoc mediator' and temporary government employee.
He wasn't receiving any actual monetary compensation. He didn't want that because it felt somehow unethical. Trading favor for favor was something that everyone understood. A pay-off was in another category altogether. Any actual profit he made would come, in his mind, at the cost of his comrades.
"I can't just simply talk to the day shift. Aside from the fact that it would cause resentment, I need to know night's concerns as well." Haven said as he savored the unfamiliar luxury of a proper meat pie. "I shouldn't have to do it for too long. I suppose I'll get a break while improvements are made, then repeat the process to make sure everything is properly done."
"My husband to be working with the Inquisitors. That's something I never thought I'd say." Ursula said with a wry grin that made her eyes sparkle and his heart quicken. "Have you told your mother?"
"Not just yet. That's the branch that marked Justice. They didn't do the killing, but it was their information that led to it." Haven said and wondered what life would be like if it weren't a series of constant complications. "The ones I work with now are a different branch. Their specialization is corruption and inefficiency in the industrial sector. They aren't concerned with culture and morality. I'm not sure mother will understand that though. At least not initially. Or easily."
"You having any belief, faith even, in the government? That's something I never expected to hear either." Ursula said and tilted her head to one side as though she were seeing something truly unfamiliar. "Have they earned that from you so easily?"
"Love, you work for the government! You know better than most that there's a difference between leader and led." He said in a carefully quiet tone of voice. "I am being pragmatic. Willing to contribute because I see a cause to it."
"You're willing to risk that? Darling, that seems out of character for you." She said and frowned. "I work for one of the most innocuous and mundane departments. Most don't even know we exist. The Inquisitor Service is as far from that as any. Also mysterious and feared more than any. Save perhaps Imperial Internal Security."
"I'm not going to say no to such an offer as was made to me." Haven said quietly and glanced down at his plate. On it was proof of just how much things had changed for him. "Angering an Inquisitor is a risk I'll not take "
"That is pragmatic indeed."
"We have time, if you wish, to go to my flat. Mr. Nobel is on the desk tonight. He likes me. Or so he says."
"I won't rush against a clock, dear man." Ursula said and gave him and odd look. "Sunday though? You said Meirton is going to his sister's wedding. Is that still the case?"
"It is."
"Then Sunday we will do it proper. And all day long."
"For that I can wait."
.
He didn't wait. Not as he should of. That night he left the factory at 1:17 am and boarded a tram. At 2 am he was at the apartment of Yasmine Alizadeah and she answered on the second knock. Without a word she took him to her bed and he had no guilt.
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"I can't convince you with words if you don't want to believe. If you want proof, do what I've asked. If you don't receive the promised compensation, then you have every right to call me a liar."
"You're a mouthpiece for the ravens. Of course you'll say anything if it will get us working harder! You're their bender now! You ain't us! You're them!"
Their was a grumbling of agreement and Haven kept his face composed, refusing to show any of the frustration he felt. Nobody trusted the Inquisitors. Even though pay was up and working conditions improving. Even though bonuses had been given as promised for ideas that improved production. The distrust of management was deeply ingrained and the night crew didn't know him as anything but a spy for the Inquisitors. He kept his temper in check. He relied instead on facts.
"Pay is up. Maintenance is seeing to defects and unsafe machinery. Nobody has been injured since the Inquisitors took over. All that is truth. You've seen it on the floor and you've seen it in your payroll." Haven said and kept himself visibly calm. If he appeared contentious it would be perceived as an attempt to manipulate. "Retooling is nearly complete in Shop 21b. Ask anyone in that division if they feel cheated or disrespected. This isn't about manipulation. The old ways of management are done. The ones who robbed us of money, respect, and gave us no credit, those men are dead. The ones who cheated us of proper pay for our work are now working the uranium mines in Hraskalva. Those are facts that you know and can easily check. This is the new way. This is now, not then. We are to be the model. We will set the standard by which all others are measured and if you think they can do all that while cheating us? You know the street. You know how the squares hold our line. We can't be a model for others if we, the workers, are not the proof that walks the streets."
"You're paid to talk, not work. There's no grease on your hands!"
"I'm a master lathe operator. Building 3A, threading shop, station number 210C was mine until ten days ago. I haven't missed quota in nearly three years." Haven said calmly and pulled out his pay book. He tossed it down onto the narrow table that was between him and the eleven shop leads. "I ran a five station drill press for two years. Apprenticed on a lathe and have run multi-station for nearly four years. They chose me to talk to you because they know nobody trusts ravens. You also know what's coming. It's no secret. War isn't far off. What we could make here? It could be a strong part of our victory in that war."
"And what will that get us? What good is that to any of us?"
"This. This is what it means to be a skilled worker in a vital trade." Haven said as he pulled out a sheaf of papers from his knapsack and placed them on the table. "These contracts guarantee continued employment and exemption from conscription. They guarantee Tier One rations and housing. They certify you as vital to the war efforts and exempt you and your family from standard hardship measures. You, and your families, all of you and your families, will be classified as Tier One A. Vital to the war effort. Guaranteed housing and preferential rations. And all you need to do to fulfill your end of the contract is continue to do the quality of work that you've done in the past."
"Bloody fucking hell! These are signed, actually signed in ink, by the Minister of Defense hisself!"
"You don't have to trust me, but if you can't trust that signature?" Haven said and met any eye that sought his. "Feel free to try your luck elsewhere. Personally? After the transition is completed I'll be back at my lathe. Because I know, in my heart and soul, that I can do more for my country, and myself, at that workstation."
.
"You're better than a politician. Because you're not only sincere, you understand the people that you're talking to." Master High Inquisitor Ingthold told Haven one midnight after a meeting with the hydraulic engineers department. Haven didn't know how to do their job but he understood their concerns. "You have the qualities of a natural leader. Including the humility that rejects the very notion. The best leaders are those who take the job on because it needs to be done. Not because they want the acclaim or the power."
"They listen to me because I'm not a leader. I'm just one of them."
"That's how all the best leaders begin. They don't want the power or the responsibility that comes with it." Ingthold said with a tight lipped grin as he offered Haven a cup of tea. "The best leaders take the job not because they want it but because it needs to be done. It isn't about the fame or having control. It's about accepting the responsibility of choosing to help because you know that you can. Because you know that you're the best suited to the task. Do you know why soldiers fight?"
"I don't...not really. Following orders doesn't seem like enough of a reason to face death."
"They fight for their families. For their comrades. They don't stand and fight and die for king or emperor or country. They fight for what they truly love. For what matters most to them." Ingthold said and with sheer intensity kept Haven's eyes locked to his ghostly gray ones. "You fight and you die for the things you love. Those driven by hate die quickly. Because life has little value to them. There is no beauty in hate. Which would you fight harder for? To protect the ones you love or punish those you hate without even knowing them?"
"To be honest, I'm no soldier. I can't imagine what it's like. And don't want to."
"Because you're sane. And no sane man wants war." The Inquisitor said and made Haven aware of the rather imposing physicality the older man possessed. "War is insanity. It has no real reason to it. No rules stand the test of blood. It is death sanctioned by politicians and blessed by society but it is still death. When you die for a cause you are still dead. Some men want that. To die believing that that death now has a purpose. Death is death. The dead know no glory."
"You're saying things that you shouldn't." Haven said and refused to break eye contact. He was being challenged and he accepted that. "Nobody would ever believe me if I testified to anything you say. But that's not the reason you say these things. You trust me. Why?"
"Because you are exactly what you should be. I admire integrity. My soul is drawn to tenacity. I am in a position where I can choose whom I admire." The Inquisitor said and smiled slowly until it reached the eyes and became honest. "I dispense my admiration where I see fit. Not to where I'm told by others it belongs."
"It seems then that I am in a dangerous position. Or at least a delicate one."
"Fear not, Haven Culyagaer. Those I value I can, and will, protect with relentless ferocity." Master High Inquisitor Ingthold said and stunned Haven right proper with a sly wink. "You are pragmatic yet honest. Tenacious and clever. You are smart but never show mote of your intelligence than is necessary. I like you more by the day."
"I'm not certain I deserve that level of praise."
"Of course you aren't. Because you're not unnecessarily humble but you understand the world as it is. You have the clarity that comes with actual awareness. But Haven?"
"Yes sir?"
"My admiration is honest. If there's anything you need, be it object or service that I have the ability to perform, ask. I will show you, and eventually you will believe, just how much I value you."
"Thank you. I'm flattered and honored by your offer even if it seems excessive."
"Fair enough. And Haven?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry about your brother. I am. It shouldn't have happened." Ingthold said and froze Haven's thoughts and heart completely. "I disagree with the government, and even more so with my own department, about such matters. I want you to know that my division has nothing to do with such things."
"Thank you."
"Only the weak hate love." Ingthold said and the words came out with a ferocity that stunned Haven. "If I'd begun this operation a month sooner your brother would still be alive. Nobody tests me by touching those I value in any way! I'm sorry, truly sorry, for your loss and for the pain your mother must yet still feel."
"I appreciate that. I don't honestly understand your anger, but nevertheless, thank you."
"I have a heart. I allow few to see it and fewer to touch it, but it's there. And knowing that if I had been just a bit quicker in my investigating I could have spared you that pain and saved his life? I consider that a failure on my part."
"Why? You don't owe me, and you didn't know me at all then."
"It's a hard thing. To serve evil with an honest heart. I have no choice of the path but I decide how I walk it." The Inquisitor said and stunned Haven yet again. To a dangerous degree. This man was saying things that should not be said. It wasn't a test because Haven was guilty at but one word from the Inquisitor. He held no power at all. "The hardest thing is to serve monsters without becoming one yourself. It requires acceptance of the necessity of some sin. And make no mistake. I am not heroic or noble. I'm simply trying my best to not sacrifice my soul in its entirety."
"You believe in God then?"
"Yes. I have to. Think what you want but once, briefly, I had the honor to know an actual angel." Ingthold said and then sighed deeply. It was such a human act that Haven, for the first time, actually saw a man before him. "It gave me strength when I had none. I promised it that I would repay It's gift whenever possible. Hm. In my line of work I have done my best but opportunity is...rare."
"Why did you choose me?"
"Because I could." Ingthold said and smiled the most honest smile Haven had yet seen. "That is enough for now. Have patience. I am a man not given much to words. You've already heard more from me in two weeks than my colleagues hear in a year."
"Thank you then. For that honor." Haven said because he was being allowed to see a man, just a man, there before him. "And thank you. For your kind words. My brother...he would have appreciated them. I think you two would have gotten along quite well. He had a good soul and the kind of wisdom I can only aspire to."
"For an Inquisitor you're, surprisingly, actually quite a decent chap." Haven said and was rewarded, well and truly, with an honest laugh from the older man.
"You're a good man." Ingthold said and smiled gently. "Your parents did a splendid job. They should be rightfully proud."
"Being your friend means being honest. No bullshitting. I'm not doing you a favor by ignoring what I see!" Rupp said as he cast a foul glance at the plate on the table before Haven. "Wasting a pair of fine pork chops? Money take your appetite away?"
"I'm not built for this, my friend." Haven said and couldn't hide the weariness that burdened his soul. "I should be happy. Well, at least a bit happier. I'm part of a drastic change for the better at work. I'm being given responsibility and respect, like I never even imagined possible, and I can't see where it's taking me. I want to believe that change is actually possible but I find myself missing the way it was. And that's...that's, it's fucking awful!"
"No, it's just human nature." Rupp said and paused as the waitress poured coffee for him. "We adapt to misery. Especially if it's predictable. A pattern, even a pattern that hurts, is easier to accept. It's' a sort of order. Unpredictability is unsettling. Thing's changing a bit in general all around now, but for you? What hasn't changed? Besides where you live."
"Would you take a walk with me?"
"Let's go." Rupp said and dropped the money for the coffee he hadn't even touched on the table. "The wind is a bitter witch. You got your hat? Let's go."
Haven felt an immense gratitude and love for his friend. His heart needed people like this even more now than ever. They went out and down 52nd Street, which ran a curfew free line from heights to harbor. As they walked with the wind at their back he unburdened himself completely. Telling his dear friend about Christoff and his crew, Yasmine Alizadeah, Davion Metetiere, and Inquisitor Ingthold.
He didn't have to mention Ursula because his friend already knew about their engagement. Rupp had enough experience with romantic entanglements that Haven knew he could trust him to be sensible and not judgemental. Haven didn't have to justify and explain which was fortunate. Since he wasn't himself sure how he'd come to be where he was.
"I'd heard there were industrial and financial Inquisitors. Wasn't sure that wasn't just a rumor though." Rupp said as they passed the now frozen fountain in Conqueror's Plaza at the edge of the Bitewood District. "Makes sense though. If you wanna press the uppers you get yourself someone with a working class background. I suppose if you're going to seize an entire factory that type are handy. Do yer think he knows about Yasmine?"
"I can't see any way that he wouldn't."
"He doesn't bring it up though. I reckon yer gotta trust him to be discreet. If he needs yer help, well, even if he's an iffer he's gotta be proper to ya to get what he needs. Way I'm seeing it, this new machinegun he's hinting at might be his special personal project. War's coming sure, and if this tech is as good as you think? Being the man who's responsible for getting it into the hands of the army? His position will be unassailable. Power dispenses influence to those that serve best."
"I've never met an honest full government employee. Then again I've never met one who didn't treat me like the country is doing me a favor by letting me share air with them."
"They're not all corrupt and nepotistic cunts. Everything would fall apart if that was the case. It's just rare to actually see a decent one." Rupp said as they turned back and finally had the wind at from behind insteadof in their faces. "He helped you get that bastard madman and made no attempt to take credit. Or go after your shifty friends. That says quite a bit right there."
"I don't trust him. But I sort of do." Haven said as he adjusted his scarf to cover the back of his neck. "He and his people are legitimately taking care of problems at work. Hell, getting proper pay is a right wonder on its own."
"A question now. And be honest." Rupp said as smoke from his pipe spiraled away on the wind. "Which of your ladies is more concerned with your new job?"
"Well, Ursula. Of course. Since she's already a lower tier government employee herself!" Haven said and tried not to sound defensive. "It puts us in a better financial position in regards to our marriage."
"Which one was first to ask how yer liked the new work yer does?"
"Well, Yasmine. But I saw her first and....it's different! We aren't engaged! The money and respect aren't important to her!"
"No. But seems yer happiness is." Rupp said, but in a tone of voice that didn't raise Haven's hackles. "I'm not one qualified to give romantic advice. Lords above know that! You're getting something different from each. Else it wouldn't be a trouble. Question is, and I'm just suggesting not saying it's a truth, but which one seems to give you more of what you need? Not want. Need. To feel right. To be right."
"I don't know! I've never been in this position before!"
"Well then keep this in mind." Rupp said and nudged Haven, gently, with an elbow. "I been in that position many times. And I ain't got it right once yet."
"Well I think you're grand! Really Hmm. Maybe it's the women who have been wrong. Not you."
"I couldn't kiss you with that mustache!"
"Watch that, lad. You're already in a bind with two lasses. You start sweet talking me I might give 'em some competition!"
"I don't think that would go too well. For either of us."
"I've been told I'm an excellent kisser."
"I could shave it off. If given proper, shall we say, motivation?"
"You without a mustache? Weren't you born with that?"
"I'm not a statue. I'm capable of changing."
"Tease."
"God forbid! I love you just the way you are. But not like that!"
Haven found the split shift work confusing to his inner clock. It also didn't help that the military officers he dealt with changed and that Ingthold tended to only work at night. His day 'keepers' as he thought of them, were polite but not very personable. With the exceptions of Senior Sergeant Woodhulll and Major Zdrava. Haven assumed that they knew Ingthold better, or at least had more experience working with the Inquisitor.
As his comrades began to see undeniable improvements taking place his job actually became more complicated. Haven found himself inundated with complaints that barely attempted the masquerade of being suggestions. He also was seen as the only conduit between workers and the new system of management. People bypassed the chain of command as soon as they saw him on the floor. Not all had the chance to encounter him personally though, and that was a further problem.
"Comrade, can you give me a moment?" Major Zdrava said on a Friday morning that was a bit more hectic than usual. The man was sternly handsome, swarthy, magnificently mustachioed, and had the ramrod posture of a career soldier. "My managers are being overwhelmed with reports from shift leads and that cumulative flood ends up on my desk."
"How can I help?" Haven said and was absolutely sincere. Zdrava treated him like they were equals and that meant more than favors or pay could. "Managers won't actually listen to me though."
"It's not that. It's the nature of the reports. Here, if you could join me at my desk." The major asked, not ordered, and so Haven didn't hesitate. "I have here, hmm, where were they? Ah! Here! These are claims of substandard productivity. And here of quality. But the fault isn't placed upon the equipment. Specific shops are mentioned but no personnel are specifically named. Why would a section be concerning itself with the performance of another?"
"Ah. Well. My comrades, the workers here in these reports? They don't really believe the rewards funds are as large as they are." Haven said as he matched complaints to locations on the entire forgeworks' blueprints and layout. "There's competition. To get money before it's gone. Each shop sees itself as a separate thing. Within each shop each section sees itself first before recognizing the whole. With so many working here it happens. You can't worry about all the others."
"So I take it then that some of these complaints are not entirely founded in fact?"
"Partially but not entirely, no." Haven said and felt dismay at the sheer number of documented accusations. "If you're going to file such a claim you've got to be doing better than the ones you're reporting on. Exaggeration is probably involved. It also might be that there's a conflict between personalities. Something personal. In the past our management punished anyone drawing notice. Including those reporting problems. That's no longer the case."
"So these matters shouldn't be getting past the shop or department managers then."
"They shouldn't, no. But people here are used to having upper management dictating conditions without accepting input from anyone lower." Haven said and sighed. What he was seeing was pettiness at a level that was disheartening. "The people you are supervising aren't used to actually having the power to address issues. Or the ability to bring up problems. In the past, doing any of that was almost certain to get you docked pay for attitudes detrimental to productivity."
"They don't trust us yet?"
"They don't really know how to. When you have no control trust is never a factor. Responsibility is something everyone's feared." Haven said and looked across the desk into the puzzled eyes of the major. "I ran one machine. That was my entire concern. Shift leads had to run a machine and also make sure two dozen others were working properly. The safest choice was always silence. Let someone else deal with problems."
"How was productivity and quality maintained at the levels documented?"
"Us versus them. That was the mentality. Do the best job you can despite management. Look after your section. Your friends." Haven said and shrugged at Zdrava's skeptical frown. "Nobody expected things to be fair. We didn't do a good job for the bosses. We did a good job to prove to ourselves that we could."
"How do you suggest that I deal with this issue?" Zdrava said and gave Haven a strange and almost erotic thrill. The man honestly respected his abilities and opinion. "If I spend the time it takes to go through every complaint I'll get nothing done!"
"Ah. Hmm. Well, okay. Here's a suggestion." Haven said with what he hoped sounded like confidence. "This will require small pay rises as incentives though. Yes? Okay. So then. Have each manager assign a senior operator in each section to take the reports from workers. Then have them assign two shift leads in each shop to decide what reports are valid. Those that they judge valid? They pass those on to foremen or shift supervisors to either address the issue, or pass it on to the actual manager."
"You think that will be enough? With the work culture you've described as being so pervasive?"
"The average worker doesn't care who they complain to as long as they can complain to someone. By giving a bit of a rise and some authority to the varying leads, it becomes a point of pride to do that job well. Oh! Make sure the managers are picking the best and not playing favorites though! Just vette their choices. We need people who will be honest. I think it will work then."
"A shame you aren't military." Zdrava said with a broad grin. "If my subordinates were half as intelligent and capable as you, I'd have the best unit in the Fatherland!"
"But then you'd still have a mess here and I wouldn't be much help." Haven said and returned the grin. "It's hard to get a read on behavior you're not familiar with."
"I'd still take you in my command any day. Or night." Zdrava said and Haven accepted that compliment and allowed himself to feel good in the moment.
.
"Your new bosses seem to have the favor of the Empire." Ursula said to him as they had coffee in bed the following Sunday. "They've managed a funding exemption that has other departments seething."
"What is that then? A funding exemption?" Haven asked as he absorbed into his soul the sight of the morning light on her skin. "And why would others care?"
"Every government department is given a fixed budget at the beginning of each fiscal year. The money is dispensed out from the central pool to all functions within a department." Ursula said, sounding almost professorial. "A funding exemption is when you're allowed resources and mandatory expenditures that aren't subtracted from the budget. Everyone wants an exemption but few get it. I mean, it basically expands your budget and allows you to run things without counting every coin."
"Well, we're retooling half the plant. I can't imagine anybody habing factored that into an annual budget." Haven said and wanted, very much wanted, coffee flavored kisses and no talk of work, but there was later. "Our prior, incredibly incompetent and incredibly corrupt, management embezzled funds and sold materials meant for plant upkeep. If the annual budget had no allowance for extensive maintenance and numerous repairs, well, we would be shut down. All of our capacity to contribute to the defense of the Fatherland would be wasted. It's sensible. To allow more investments where it will serve the greatest good."
"Well none of these things were my concern before." Haven said and tried not to be irritated. Or sound defensive. "I wasn't allowed to have any say, or even an opinion. Run your machine, make what you're told, that's all you're good for. That's what they'd say. That's how it was. Now I actually see the issues on a broader scale and have some ability to direct corrections. Efficiency can be increased quite drastically."
"My word. You sound like an auditor or government overseer! You've got the words, the tone, the attitude!" Ursula said and gave him a single raised eyebrow. "Is this what you do now? You've never sounded like this before!"
"Like what?"
"Like one of Them. A career bureaucrat."
"But are these your opinions or are you but repeating what your new friends the Inquisitors tell you?"
"Excuse me?"
"I saw the primary exemption request. You're almost quoting from it."
"If anyone is being quoted it's me! I've been the primary consultant for them! I'm the one who has spoken to hundreds! Drew up the lists of needed repairs and items! The Inquisitors don't know machining! Bloody hell, the remaining managers don't even know! They're just administrative! I'm the one who can explain what needs to be done!"
"No need to sound so offended, love! It's just an observation. I've never, in all our time, heard you talk like this!"
"Because it wasn't my concern! Now it is! I'm not stupid, you know!"
"I didn't say you were!"
"So what am I supposed to take from you accusing me of parroting words? You said 'But is that your opinion?' which I should take as what? Other than 'Are you actually smart enough to have that opinion on your own?"
"Now you're twisting my words!"
"I get accused of that nearly daily by my comrades! When they're not implying that I'm either lying or being in the bed of the High Master! I expect that from ignorant brutes. From people who think I'm somehow no longer a comrade! But not from you!"
"I didn't realize that this was something so sensitive. You've never been one easy to anger."
"I spend every day either dealing with problems, mediating arguments, or trying to get people to quit expecting special treatment just because they're nice to me! There's no such thing as an easy day for me!"
"I knew this work schedule wouldn't be good for you. That you wouldn't get proper rest and be overwhelmed. I didn't realize it was this bad though."
"Because you never ask!" Haven said with the anger of his wounded pride showing through. "Even this conversation started out about my bosses! Not me!"
"I don't know anything about factories or metalwork!"
"I don't really understand procurement and budgets and advanced inventory systems, but I still ask! Because it's what you do! And it's what you do well! So it's important to me! Apparently you don't see things the way I do!"
"Obviously I don't." She said and turned her back on him and swung her legs off the bed. "I'm going to go home. Clearly I can't say anything right. And I'm not in the mood to guess what I can or can't do to not anger you."
"Ren has two mistresses already."
"What?"
"You were in the Vermillion Palace." Haven said and saw the stillness that told him the truth. "Did you actually think you weren't under surveillance every minute you were there?"
"You'd stoop so low? Have your new friends..."
"They told me to warn you. I won't say why because I'm not privy to all that you think I am." Haven said as all his anger faded to ash inside his heart. "He's made enemies. When they come for him, anyone too close to him will be marked as well."
"You continue to insult and accuse me. You really want this to be a fight, don't you?"
"You didn't do anything with him. But all that flirtation? Why would you do that there of all places? Do you realize how that appears to people who don't know you? Why would you do that?"
"I don't know." She said and stood, still not looking at him. "Ask the Inquisitors whose pet you now are. Maybe they'll tell you that too."
It hadn't bothered him, at least initially, that Ursula's immediate supervisor flirted with her relentlessly and inappropriately and she had never seen fit to mention it. Bosses did whatever they had the power to do and Ursula hadn't encouraged it or taken it where it shouldn't be. He couldn't say the same about himself and Yasmine.
When Rumierè, Ingthhold's assistant Inquisitor, had brought him the warning about Reynaud DeBlanca it hadn't seemed anything Haven should be too deeply worried about. Until he saw the 'History of Aberrations' the moral enforcement branch of the Inquisitors had collected. The man had a history of exposing himself to underlings. Giving out photographs and writing sexually explicit notes.
That was so arrogantly asinine that it seemed absolutely amazing that the man hadn't been marked and prosecuted. However. As the man was moved amongst various offices he always had three assistants who accompanied him and testified to his skill at every rating board examination.
Ursula was one of those three.
"She's shrewd. She's gone up three grades and nearly doubled her salary by staying with him." Rumierè had said with an attitude that indicated that such maneuverings were common. "He's going to burn soon though. Tell your woman to start building a defense in deniability."
It didn't hurt him, or bother him at all really, that she had done these things. If that was the game, that was the game. No, what hurt was finding out, through her dismissal of his new work, that she apparently thought he lacked the intelligence to understand the intricate machinations of working within the government. She had always called him clever and intelligent but apparently she didn't really mean it.
His sins were greater. He hadn't been faithful. His heart had betrayed him and his will hadn't been strong enough. He hadn't cheated on her because she was not what he needed, nor in any way had he been thinking to hurt her. He accepted his weakness as his own flaw. He had thought less of himself but not her. He loved her, even still, and couldn't understand why he had become so confused and entangled.
Her attitude that morning wouldn't have hit him so painfully if he didn't already known all of the things that she thought him apparently incapable of understanding. She had lied to him, not with words but through omission. All the mention of her bosses had been oblique and had left him with little impression of who those people were. He could have, and would have, understood and agreed with her tactics. You had to look out for yourself. Especially in government service.
He no longer was sure what she actually thought of him. He wasn't even sure why she had agreed to marry him. Perhaps she thought him simple and loyal. A fit companion and a refreshing break from the complications of her job. He didn't know. She hadn't said and now he was terrified to ask.
.
Three days later, at one in the morning as he was leaving through the admin gate, she was there waiting for him. He didn't know why and was too exhausted to feel fear.
"Can we talk?" She asked as snow fell like powdered diamonds through the cones of streetlight.
"Of course. I have curfew immunity." He said and finished pulling his gloves on. "We should walk though. The security cameras around the plant are all currently active "
"Currently?"
"The majority of security cameras are dormant. There aren't enough people to watch them all otherwise." Haven said as they stepped onto the cobblestones of Guardian Way. "I learned that from smugglers, not Inquisitors. The government aren't the only ones who watch."
"It's odd you brought them up."
"Who?"
"The smugglers. Your friends." She said and her face was shadowed and thus unreadable. "You don't mention them anymore. Let alone go to see them. Maybe that would mean nothing. You're busy. The task was impossible, really. But Mirrabella Kaskoulienè received a letter a few weeks ago. I didn't know that she had."
"You've been busy too."
"Perhaps. But the letter she received? It said that her sister's death had been avenged. In the letter was a locket of Kyriena's. And money for a memorial to be said."
"I didn't know that either."
"But you know why the letter was sent."
"Yes."
"And it's true?"
"Yes. It's true. I know that for a fact." Haven said and felt his soul sigh. He had no right to avoid this. "I was there. And yes, we know it was that man. Without doubt."
"How did you figure out who it was and find him?"
He told her about his first meeting with Master High Inquisitor Ingthold. What had been given to him and how it fit exactly with what Christoff and his crew had already figured out. From the profile of the man to the methods, means, and locations.
"This Inquisitor told you to give no mercy?" She said after he finished. "And you did as he asked?"
"I didn't. Myself. The others, they, ahem, they...they had no qualms." He said and refused to let the memories of that night fill his mind. "I was there though. I bore witness. I had to see. Had to. I had to know that even monsters can die. I saw the photographs of his victims. I know their names. I had to witness his end. To settle those memories into a place I can live with."
"When was this? You didn't tell me? Was...was it that terrible?"
"Yes but no. And that's something I struggle with. Rationally we only did to him what he'd done to innocent women. And he wasn't innocent." Haven said. Deliberately using 'we' instead of 'they' because he too had played a part. "In my heart though? It was necessary. But that doesn't make it good. Not to have been a part of. I hope that he's in Hell. But I don't have the strength to see cruelty and let it leave no stain."
"So that's part of what links you to this Ingthold now. He gave you something you sought." She said and her voice was subdued and almost flat sounding. "I respect the fact that he didn't let secforce have him. He's right that they'd fuck it up. And even a disgraced noble can buy judges. Plus we women aren't really fully human in the eyes of the law. Having seen it, would you do it again if time were rewound?"
"Yes. Because you're right. The government didn't care about these young women. They couldn't be bothered." Haven said as the second bells rolled out mournfully over a sleeping city. "To be absolutely certain that he'd never do such things again? Yes. I'd do it again."
"I don't want any details. Except one. Was it slow?"
"Very."
"Good. I don't care if that makes me sound horrible. I'm glad." She said and then he felt her hand take his. "You kept your word. You also don't want credit for it. I don't know anyone like you."
"Is that good or bad?"
"You're right. Absolutely right. I haven't respected your intelligence. Your determination and strength." She said as his fingers tentatively closed over hers. "You've always been the same to me. Stoic. Resolute and dependable but uncomplicated. Having you working for the government too? I guess...I guess I feel threatened. Like suddenly you're in competition with me."
"I can't compete with you. You're brilliant."
"No. Stop that. No self-deprecation. When I went home the morning we fought? I was furious and deeply wounded." She said but held on to him still. "And then I started remembering it, but I heard. Heard my own voice making excuses and putting all the blame on you."
"I probably did the same."
"You're right though. That I hadn't ever once asked about just what you were doing and what it was like. Or even if you wanted to be doing it at all."
"It's actually a bit boring."
"So is my job. But you still ask about it."
"I shouldn't have gotten so angry. I'm sorry."
"Can I be sorry too?"
"Well, if you want to."
"Can I come home with you?"
"If you want to."
"I want to."
"Thank you. It's awfully cold out tonight. Let's go get warm."
"And as you then strive for godhood, as you champion the profane as instead sacred; when you declare your soul's penurious virtues to possess a sanguine divinity that defiles the very notion, you will find that your birthright is death and chaos your only companion. You cannot escape the cage that you yourself build."
"False Gods and Stolen Prophecies" Sahria Sujiaharta
.
Two days after his reconciliation with Ursula, Haven left his morning shift and walked out into a freezing fog. For a record eighteenth straight day the temperature had not risen above 10°. Ice jams were forming at the inland bridges of the Blackwater River. If the ice jams blocked the flow entirely the Many Fords region would flood.
"Havs, mate! Oi!" He heard his name and turned to see Vinezzi, in the guise of a merchant's pampleteer, standing by a streetpost. "Pretend you're interested and take one of these."
Haven did as asked and noticed the thick rime of ice on the others dun hued wool overcoat with hood. The charade wasn't a good sign. No. "Mate. Something bad happen? Should we walk?"
"Go to Ten Gallows Square in Rigginsfeld. Take the 203 Brown Line." Vinezzi said as Haven took the offered flyer and looked down at it. "I'll explain there. Oi, comrade! Bixby Woolens having a one day sale! Get 15% off all sweaters, scarves, and mittens! Here! It's free! No? Fine then! Oi, comrade! You look in need of a new scarf..."
Haven tucked the flyer into the pocket of his coat and turned south in the direction of Lower Slopes District Travel Station #3. Fear and resignation took their places in his thoughts because he was a realist. Subterfuge was never necessary for good news. There would be no happy tidings if Rigginsfeld was the location in which any news would be given. It sat deep in the working poor quarters of Downwind Parrish.
He was peripherally aware of the reaction to his armband. The one that declared him to be contracted to The Inquisitor's Service. People avoided looking at him. Nobody wanted to attract his notice. Especially since the letters on his armband were cryptic and told nothing of what he might actually be. They saw enough to know that they didn't want to know him
His new job meant he was losing muscle. Mediating wasn't exactly physically demanding. He still had the solid build of a man accustomed to rough work though. And the bearing of a man not given to the wasting of words. It was the affiliation worn on his right sleeve that was threatening. Who he actually was didn't matter.
He stepped down into the decrepit and decaying City Hub station just off Ten Gallows Square. The heat didn't appear to be working in the building. A third of the windows in the ceiling of the main hall, windows meant to provide the majority of the light for the concourse, were boarded over. A poor job had been done of it. Snow drifted down from gaps. Fire barrels provided scant heat but the smoke from those stung the eye.
His clothes were plain but sturdy and warm. If not for his armband he would have been marked and mugged by whatever clan of thieves called this place theirs. He stepped outside and barely noticed any change to the temperature. However. Out on the open street the disdain directed his way was blatant. He was in THEIR world now and nobody had to pretend that he was welcome. Anything shy of a physical assault would draw no official response.
"Havs! Mate! The fucking bloody cuff!"
"Without it I'd be a victim already. I'm a stranger here." Haven said and turned to face Vinezzi, who no longer carried any pamphlets. "I'd be tapped even quicker with my skilled technician cuff. There are no good jobs around here. They'd think me flush with money."
"You're a tough looking bastard who can scrap. Lay a couple knockers out and you'd be no-touch." Vinezzi said and peered around from under his hood without visibly moving his head. "Then again it's strange and unsettling times and the streets know. Come. Walk."
"What's going on? Something's wrong. How wrong though?"
"Scary fucking wrong, mate. Worse than we thought." Vinezzi said as they moved along through a gap in the pedestrians that opened before them and closed immediately after. "War's started. They just haven't figured out who they wanna have it with. It's certain now though."
"What? Why?"
"We're your friends. You can rely on that. But your newest friends? Might have been no worse time you could have hooked up with that lot." Vinezzi said with a voice clearly well practiced in projecting itself only as far as needed. "The battleship I.S.S Queen's Consort was sunk off Harriman's Point three nights back."
"What? By who?"
"All our lives are in your hands. That's how much I trust ya." Vinezzi said and glanced briefly at Haven. "Seems it should be news already, right? Well, Mosin has a cousin who runs coastal flatbottoms. Was off the Point that night. ibn Harham saw it. Was Imperial torpedo boats. Sinking their brothers. There was a radio message sent out. Saying unidentified aircraft were attacking the Consort with bombs and torpedoes. But there weren't any planes in the air. ibn Harham swears to it."
"So it was staged? Just a show?"
"Wasn't a show for them gulls on the battleship. She split in half in minutes. What few got into the water were machinegunned by the torpedo boats. ibn Harham says those murderous fucks were thorough. They spent an hour making sure was no survivors. Shooting in cold blood boys calling out to those they thought to be mates."
"That's horrible! How can they do that? It doesn't make sense!"
"It makes perfect sense if you want the nation screaming out for blood and vengeance. With no survivors to attest otherwise, guv can blame whoever they choose." Vinezzi said and steered them towards Ten Gallows Square. "The boss and the rest made a run to Monninger Bay. Out on Guanlao Island. That's part of Arkentia. Stupid, I say. Taking that risk. But I ain't boss."
"Where are we going then?'
"To meet a man that the government has forgotten exists." Vinezzi said and Haven felt it then. The weight of the trust placed on him.
.
Yòncker Dahlbrecht had not an inch of smooth skin to be seen. The man wore age in wrinkles too numerous and too interwoven to be counted. The man was nearly as tall as Ingthold but looked brittle and little more than a skeleton in street sweeper's coveralls. The brown eyes were alert though and had clearly taken in memories no other living person held.
"You're yet working, grandfather?" Haven said politely after introductions were made. "No family to see to you?"
"I've outlived them all by ninety some odd years." The man said in a dry rasp of a voice. "If I don't work I starve. If I starve then they're forgotten."
"Tell him, elder. Tell him the truth."
"Why not? I've lived far longer than I ever wanted." The man said and leaned a hard bristled pushbroom against a municipal sanitation cart. "Boy, I'm one hundred and three years old. I'm older than the lies they now call our history."
"I didn't think anyone lived so long."
"Very few do. That's why they've forgotten me." The old man said while eyes that had seen more than almost any gazed at Haven. "Here's the truth. The National People's Party did not depose King Arden and take power. Though with everyone believing it, it will eventually become truth. No, as the War of Four Coalitions was grinding on, liberal social movements began calling for reform. Across Yarrion, Turassa, and Siack. Dozens of kingdoms and nations across those three continents had people demanding changes."
Haven glanced at Vinezzi who gave a small nod. The manipulation of history was a given. But not to this extent.
"As the war ended, empires crumbled and thrones fell. Here they tried something new. An assembly of representatives elected by the people of each region. A leader chosen by consensus from the various parties. But it didn't go smoothly. Because the average citizen wasn't accustomed to having to take part and bear some responsibility. Then the Panic of '48 hit and hit worldwide. The Cortenzian were the first to overthrow a newly elected government and replace it with military rule. Shortly after we followed suit. That's when my entire family was slaughtered. Because we were Nidenzian and the Nidenzian were the strongest supporters of the new government. They murdered the entire elected assemblage and tens of thousands of minor officials. Then they began eliminating all the professors and academics and intelligentsia who might remember the past and refute the new party line."
"I'm half Tirelion." Vinezzi said as Haven stood, unable to find any words. "Half my family tree died in '55. I never knew why. Nobody spoke of it."
"For seventeen years, between the king and the tyranny of now, we had a country of our own." The old man said as his eyes perhaps saw another city besides the one before them now. "History says that never happened. It says the N.P.P. has existed for ninety-seven years. And who's to say other? There's no truth anymore."
"Havs? You have to get your lady on the Hill out of here and now! Out of the city and out of the empire!" Vinezzi said as he gripped Haven's arm tightly. "She's a single woman, no kids nor husband nor family! They won't be merciful and just kill her! They'll put her in a military brothel! That's a death sentence too, but one that's far too slow and horrible!"
"But now I work, I mean, I know, I have connections that..."
"Boy? You got nothing as far as the government is concerned." The old man said and killed off any comfort or hope. "If you actually believe in anything that anyone in the government tells you, if you have any faith at all in these fucking monsters? They'll twist and tear you apart until you can't even remember who you used to be."
"The worst thing you can imagine is probably the least of what they can and will do." Vinezzi said and gave Haven the sympathy he desperately needed. "If you care about that woman? You're the only chance she has."
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"And she spoke my name but my ears heard only the pointless praise of faceless masters saluting my submission and ready assumption of the guise of a good citizen. The gold they gave changed things and both my soul and my only love were lost to a darkness I cannot now escape."
"Counting Coins" Franz Inderlied
.
Haven Culyagaer lacked the framework or actual experience that would permit him to take swift and appropriate action. He might say aloud to comrades that he didn't trust the government or have any faith in it, yet he relied upon it. With all its flaws it was still the foundation of his existence. He had no knowledge of politics or world diplomacy or how an economy functioned. He didn't understand courts or law or the tools of social control.
The very idea of starting a war by attacking yourself seemed absurd. Not impossible per se but what was the real point? The more that he was exposed to the insidious and nefarious underpinnings of the world, the harder it became for him to envision it as something he needed to react to. How could he? He was one man. Just one man. People who could make such plans wouldn't even see him as human.
The cumulative stress of job, romantic relationships, international crisis', and his uncertain social standing, it all made it almost impossible to think clearly enough to make the decisions he was told must be made. Too much was changing too quickly. He wasn't a man prepared for a drastic turn in his life. He didn't have the temperament to be a revolutionary.
Forbearance was unfortunately both his virtue and his default reaction. Even after the Davion Metetiere affair Haven felt little in the way of agency. Despite the new job with its respect and importance, he still felt like he existed by the grace of others. He was incapable of seeing beyond the illusion even when he knew it was there. He was a small man who had no place in a larger world.
Thus he returned from his visit to Downwind and went to his flat to sit out the few hours before he needed to report for his evening shift. Everything felt flat and distant. He had new work boots, a proper winter work coat, he had purchased a new quilt for his bed. But all he saw was the Inquisitor's Service armband on the sleeve of that new coat.
It was like an ugly key that had opened up a door to a world he wasn't prepared for. It had been both the price paid to find Metetiere and the cost to his soul of sharing a room with evil. There was no way back though. The key had let him in but it couldn't let him out. He knew things he couldn't ever erase from his mind.
.
"What's that? What's that sound?"
Haven, as clueless as the truck drivers he'd been dealing with in the east staging yard, looked up into the snow falling from the overcast night sky. An odd moan rose, faded, rose again. Then it was joined by a second off in a different direction, and then a third.
"What the bloody fuck?" Martens, the drivers' spokesman held a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from snow. "Is that the flood warning? The river's froze! How can it be flooding?"
"Oi! Look! There to harbor!" Someone else announced and all turned to look. "Them are spotlights! Why they pointing up? Nothing but clouds and snow to see!"
"What the fuck is going on? They trying to wake the whole city? Day shift folk gonna be right mad!"
"You! You idiots! What are you doing?" A voice shouted and Haven recognized one of the Inquisitors' troopers. "Get inside! Get to the shelters! Can't you hear the bloody fucking sirens?"
"Yeah. But what they for?"
"Sarnasia declared war at midnight! That's an air raid siren you daft fucks!" The trooper shouted and clearly wanted to be inside as well. "Ships off shore reported at least two hundred planes headed here! Get inside right bloody fucking goddamn now!"
"War? And we're being attacked?" A young driver said and seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the dance of spotlight beams. "Nobody could be that stupid!"
"Fuck me! Those are the guns on the Chain Islands firing! Go go go!"
Haven joined the orderly rush even though, like the young man, part of him wanted to see, to actually see, what was going to happen. Especially since he knew that the forgeworks government required air raid shelters were little more than vaulted rooms between machinery spaces. No reinforced ceiling or ventilation, no emergency exits, and the entire forgeworks had less than one tenth the required fire fighting equipment.
It would be a fitting end to all his troubles. To die in the wreckage of this fucking factory on the first night of a war started over lies.
.
"Culyagaer, go with Major Zdrava! We need to know what machines have been damaged and need replacement!"
"Inquisitor, Building #4 is still burning and there's no electricity on the eastern side of the works." Zdrava said with remarkable poise. Then again the man was a soldier. "The local fire brigade is focused on the Mintwater neighborhood. It received the majority of the bombs meant for us."
"The fucking houses aren't vital! This plant is! Let the fucking homes burn! Goddammit!" Ingthold snarled and Haven didn't see anything human in the man's eyes. He saw an Inquisitor. "Where's Unterfeld?"
"He's dead. He was in shelter 3a." Zdrava said and Haven tried to mimic the man's stoicism. "All ninety-six in it are dead. The fire brigades answer directly to the City Directorate. If you're going to try to redirect them you'll need to go through the palace."
"There's no phones and the city is in blackout!" Ingthold snapped and then spun about and headed towards the eastern works. "Culyagaer! Stay with the major!"
"As though you were going to nip off for a beer." The major muttered to Haven as he pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his tunic pocket. "Care for one?"
"Thank you sir, but I don't smoke."
"You might want to start. Nicotine is a stimulant." Zdrava said and then paused to light his cigarette and exhaled smoke into the growing chill of the air. "I'm thinking that this wasn't exactly what they were expecting to happen."
"Sir? Who was expecting what?"
"I trust you, Haven. My name is Dritan, by the way. My father was Ergon. I like you. You're a decent chap." The major said and sat upon the edge of a metal desk. Their room was momentarily empty of any other. "You remind me of a friend that I had in a better time."
"I like you too, sir. I enjoy working with you."
"I try to be fair. When I can." Zdrava said and looked off into an empty hall. "They let this happen, you know."
"Who did?"
"The Great Leader and his High Circle. They didn't send up a single interceptor. My quarters are in sight of Drauphel Aerodrome." Zdrava said and turned his eyes to Haven. "They didn't scramble a one. Kept them safe in their revetments. By my guess less than a third of the available antiaircraft artillery was engaged."
"They...they wanted the city to be bombed?"
"But of course. Riles up the people. Makes them want blood. Revenge and such." Zdrava said with a clear sorrow showing on his handsome face. "It isn't an honorable thing, but then honor is just a myth, isn't it?"
"But the planes were supposed to, well, just bomb, what, homes?"
"Well that's what the majority of the city is after all. A bit childish of them to think the Sarnasian wouldn't have legitimate targets." The major said and ran a hand across his face before continuing. "Do you trust me Haven? Can you? At least a little?"
"Yes. You're a good man."
"Thank you for thinking so. Ahh. It's right proper dark. The plans they make lead only to shadow. They knew those planes were coming. Do you want to know how I know this?"
"I'd rather not, to be honest."
"You're actually technically my assistant. I need someone I can talk to." Zdrava said and then chuckled drily. "It's not exactly a state secret. We have double agents in many places. Feeding false information and reporting what they hear. We sank the Sarnasian Royal Yacht last evening. Killing the Prince Giarmo di Solli. Because the Sarnasian's just refused to declare war. So we did that. We knew what their response would be. Well, we thought we did."
"Evil is everywhere. There is no God. Just devils in the form of men."
"We have forsaken God. Why should He owe us anything?" Zdrava said and then sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Ingthold is going to be an absolute cunt for the foreseeable future. I'll be on both shifts now as well. Stay by me. I understand his moods."
"Do I actually have a choice?"
"Everyone always has choices. Just sometimes none of those choices are good." Zdrava said and patted Haven's shoulder. A gesture that, in the moment, was as intimate as any embrace while also being reassuring. "Together we'll do our best. And if that best isn't good enough, well, I can always pull rank."
His brother waited too long. The fascists were very clear about the extent to which they would further impose legal persecution and discrimination. It was, in the end, sadly ironic that his brother's name was Justice, since he received no such thing from the government. To the very end Justice, unlike his younger brother, had believed in the common decency of people and had kept a faith in the rules of law.
He had been called to the hospital to identify his brother's body so that the Ministry of Population Registration could properly record the death and remove his brother from the census rolls. Because he was familiar with his brother's circles of acquaintance and because the administratos, like all government officials, were lazy and unconcerned with how the job was done, he had been required to identify a further dozen victims.
Without exception it was horrific. These men had been tortured and beaten to death. For the unforgivable crime of being homosexual. Justice and his mate Corbin had been barely recognizable. Their friends hadn't fared much better. So he did what they demanded and then went home to tell his mother that her eldest son was dead, murdered by the country that he had continued to have undue faith in.
The kommissar had wanted, quite obviously so, to impose guilt through association upon him. Unfortunately for that murderous sadist, unlike his brother Haven Culyagaer was of clear value to the government. He was a skilled machinist and lathe operator and with the country's industrial output clearly gearing up for war, his profession and certified level of skill made him more use alive than as a 'warning'.
Haven saw only a dark future ahead. He had no faith in the government, his country, or his fellow citizens, but that didn't matter. His mother had suffered loss enough already. He wouldn't bring her more pain. Not as long as his actions were still his own.
.
"You know you're enabling the enemy, Havv? You make the guns that will kill people just like us!"
"Shut the hell up, Cirro! What is wrong with you?"
"Well it's true! Staiigher Forgeworks makes the Mk17GP machineguns and..."
"Yes, and Ruhfler Mills, where you work, makes the cloth that will be made into the uniforms that will be worn by those killers you just mentioned!'
"That's different! Clothes don't kill!"
"No? Well naked soldiers don't fight wars!"
"Bloody goddamn hell! 'They're Always Watching', 'They're Always Listening'! Those aren't just fucking slogans for the fucking posters! Are you in a rush to be murdered as well? They'll call you terrorists or insurgents! There are no martyrs or heroes unless the government decrees it!"
"Haven, at least think about Ursula!"
"Shut! Up! Shut the bloody fucking well up! You utter ass! He buried his brother yesterday!"
Haven looked at his friends and couldn't say what he saw. Because he knew what they all, every last one including him, would look like if they were arrested and charged with "activities indicating an anti-patriotic sentiment". There would be no court nor trial. If you were arrested you were guilty. They wouldn't arrest you if you were innocent. That was the new narrative. That's how it was. The Grand and Exalted Leader made no mistakes. By default, those who served in His Name made no mistakes either. They carried out The Will of His Greatness. Mistakes were what traitors called swift and just punishment.
"Haven, my comrade, my deepest sympathy and please ignore Cirro. He's worried they'll redesignate his job as non-exempt under the expansion of conscription."
"I know, Rupp. I know. He's an ass, but he's OUR ass." Haven said and smiled at Ruprecht Brennering. The older man was the moral and emotional anchor of their group. Rupp knew how it had been. The man saw more than the others. "They want to start a war but keep putting out directives that declare that half the population aren't 'true citizens'. If they listen to themselves it's going to be a small army, not capable of defeating anyone."
"That will change the day they declare war. Mark my words." Rupp said as he prepared his pipe. The older man's job on the docks provided him the luxury of tobacco. "The very day it starts they will proclaim that it is the duty of all to protect the Fatherland and carry it forward to glorious victory."
"They've done it before?"
"They've done it before."
"And it will work again?"
"Of course it will work again. We aren't allowed to remember the past." Rupp said after matching his pipe and drawing it to life. "I remember because I had already left school before the new history was created. They'll put the people who aren't 'true citizens' into units led by fanatics who will spend lives like water. People like us will bleed so that people like them won't have to."
"You say that aloud after what you just said to Cirro?"
"Yes. I do." Rupp said and patted Haven's shoulder. "But I say it quietly and to a man that I know I can trust."
.
"Clagger! What church do you attend?"
Haven turned the water off in the work sink and quickly toweled his short cut hair before straightening. "Church? No church, boss. Church is for people who want to give money away, not make it."
"You weren't raised religious?" The foreman pressed and kept back. He was, unlike Haven, neither sweaty nor filthy. "Your folks didn't follow the Word?"
"I was raised to respect hard work. Not the beggars promising heaven to all these lazy damn drains upon society." Haven said with the appropriate amount of fervor. He didn't have to believe the words in order to mean them. "People with enough time for church but not enough time to work for their keep? No, boss. Got no use for that kind!"
"You're a proper one, Clagger. It's good to know that you're reliable." The foreman said and did a slow look around to make sure none were lurking near. "Well, we are going to have extra shifts for Sunday work coming up soon. I'm guessing you're interested. It will pay time-plus. Can I put you down for it?"
"Time-plus? Oh, please do! I definitely want the work!" Haven said as he tossed the dirty towel into the laundry bag by the sink. "I appreciate you thinking of me and giving me the opportunity, boss!"
"I'll put you on the list, comrade. I'm pleased to see that you have the proper patriotic attitude." The foreman said and made a mark upon the clipboard that he held. "I know you know better than to tell others of your luck."
"It's none of their business what is said as you to me." Haven said and saluted the foreman with a fist held to his chest. "Thank you for the honor boss!"
"You're welcome, comrade. Now then, well, enjoy your evening. But not too much. I know that you always arrive on time ready to work. That's a virtue. Don't turn away from it!"
"Never, boss!" Haven said and saluted the foreman and held it until the man nodded and turned away, but then a bit longer as well.
'They're Always Watching'.
Haven Culyagaer knew without a doubt that it was, as Rupp had said, the truth and not merely an empty slogan.
.
"Comrade. The hounds on ya?:
"No. Just a small dog." Haven said to a machinist he only knew by sight. The night shift was entering through the gates as the day shift crowded through the exit turnstiles. "No teeth touched me."
"Luck on you." The man said and let it be. The code of the workers was subtle but clear. You never asked just what a comrade had done to draw the attention of bosses, or what they had been told.
Small dogs just yapped. Noise without consequences. It happened all the time. Actual mistakes meant being censured or written up. Being bit. Anything else? Anything a boss told you that wasn't announced to all? You didn't talk of those things ever. 'Dispensing information that could potentially create dissatisfaction amongst workers' was a crime originally targeted at union organizers and political activists. Now it covered anything that management saw as having even the smallest chance of fomenting dissent or resistance to orders.
Haven looked at the inbound shift. Dressed in well worn but clean overalls. All those leaving wore grease and oil stains held in place by their own overalls. Every day was the same. Every day the evidence of who did the real work, who made the factory run and be productive, was on display at dawn and dusk. Every payday the proof of who held actual value was illustrated by the paymaster.
But everyone wearing overalls knew the truth. The world was not theirs and never would be.
"You hear the latest? Ozziristan is threatening tariffs and sanctions!"
"Sanctions for what? And how they gonna impose tariffs when they don't import anything from us? I suppose you believe that utter shite that someone tried to assassinate our ambassador too!"
"It was in the news!"
"We withdrew our ambassador three weeks ago! You ignorant child! How's that work? They tried to assassinate him outside the embassy there while he was here! How's that work then?"
Haven ignored the forbidden talk. Government minders had given up trying to spy on Five Martyrs Square. Cameras were destroyed on the same day they were installed. Listening posts lost power, making their microphones worthless. Even the dreaded Black Watch didn't venture into this neighborhood. This was an industrial workers residential zone. The citizens here were valuable, or at least valuable enough to prevent the usual mass crackdown.
Additionally this area was "Home" to smugglers, thieves, drug dealers and pimps. All with their own highly effective networks of information. Then there was the fact that the criminals provided services that worked as distractions to a population that had very valid reasons for anger and violence. If the government made the mistake of seeing that they were given nothing to do but think on it all.
"The guv is trying to alienate the Ozziris from their allies. So if we declare war the alliance treaties won't be honored. This ain't about bloody economics! It's about finding any excuse to start a war!"
"They're the ones provocating!"
"That's not even a word, you absolute imper! Why would they do all this shite the state news is claiming? What's the purpose? What's for them to gain?"
Haven stood within "guilt proximity" of sedition and treason. He didn't care. Wasn't worried in the least because there was no place of guaranteed safety for an average citizen. Not even in the military or government ministries. Just the prior fall there had been The Purge of Reactionary Dissidents. Thousands had been arrested in every branch and at every level of government and hundreds had been executed.
War was coming. That was not in doubt. The government broadcasted pronouncements that declared the growing threats that nobody outside of the government saw or understood. This wasn't new. It wasn't anything that hadn't happened before. All he could do was do his job, do it well, and make himself of value that way.
At the moment he stood, in a cold evening with snow just beginning to fall, waiting for his love. She was his purpose. His belief. His only true allegiance was to her. Everything else deserved only that part of him that wore the mask necessary for the moment. She was the only truth that he knew.
"Comrade, do you have any tobacco?"
"Sorry brother, no. Excuse me!" Haven said and, having spied his sole hope, began working his way through the crowd. There was a pattern to the chaos. The vendors stalls weren't as haphazard as they appeared to be to an outsider. The pattern was different on the ground than it appeared from above. Security forces attempting a raid would find pursuit impossible while the very deliberate confusion would appear totally random.
They came together near a sausage vendor. He hadn't eaten since morning but didn't notice the savory smell of the goods on offer. All his senses were fixed upon her. Her dark hair was mostly tucked up beneath the wool cap he'd had made for her. She wore the parka trimmed in rabbit fur that he'd saved six months to buy. Her eyes were as deep brown as coffee and just as warm.
"Haven my heaven!" She said and then they were embracing and his world was balanced perfectly. "My darling, how are you not half frozen in that coat! We need to get you better!"
"It's warmer than it looks." He lied as he breathed in her scent and savored the silken touch of her hair against his cheek. "Gods, you smell good!"
"As do you."
"Nonsense! I reek of oil and grease!"
"You always do. But I smell you beneath it." She said and he believed. Because he believed everything that Ursula Sergionova said. She was his goddess. "Do you want to hear about Mirrabella now, or should it wait?"
"Mirrabella Kaslauskienè?" He said and reluctantly stepped back a pace. "Is she alright? What's going on?"
"Her sister Kyriena has went missing. And it doesn't appear to be the government's doing." Ursula said and bestowed a quick kiss upon his lips. "Her flat was ransacked. Everything of any value was taken. Including gloves and scarves. That's something that state security agents always overlook in their looting."
"She the one who preferred dating married men?"
"Sadly, yes."
"Maybe she attracted the attention of an anti-decadence committee. Or the Moral Enforcers. Except they prefer to make public examples." He said and with a force of will kept his attention on the topic and not fixated on his beloved. "Rauthheiner, who works a press near me, he has a cousin who's with the Perversion Prevention Vigilance Force. He says they've been getting bold. Government is ignoring their work."
"Is your comrade a supporter?"
"Johann? No! He's a decent fellow. His mother's side seems to tend to extremism though." He said and barely heard the cathedral bells ringing the hour. His whole world was but a single step away. "Where does Kyriena live?"
"Goldenrod Hill. I think on Rookers Avenue." Ursula said and took his hand in hers. "Let's walk. You look half frozen."
"I don't feel cold at all. You're my fire. You are my summer sun. All I feel is happy."
"That's not what your red cheeks and nose say. Hey now! Watch the wandering hands, mister!" She said but clung to the hand of the arm now around her waist. "Caitlyn is staying with her parents for another week. Would you like dinner first or..."
"Food can wait. I need you. Now and always!" He said and truly felt not the least bit cold. "Thank god you live on the first floor now! I forgot my gloves. Climbing a fire escape would be torture."
"That you would gladly endure."
"Absolutely."
"I'm starting to think you might actually love me."
"Thoughts are unreliable." He said and smiled like he did for no other. "Deeds are proof. And I intend to prove myself all night."
"I'm going to hold you to that." She said and there was no city, no looming war, no fears or danger. There was only her.
.
"Someday we'll get that residency permit." He whispered some hours after midnight. "We won't have to wait for a roommate to be elsewhere. Nor sneak through windows or up back stairs."
"And then you'll grow tired of me and realize that...what are you doing?"
"Will you marry me?" He asked gently as he knelt next to the bed and offered up his open hands to her. "When the restrictions are lifted will you be mine? Will you be my wife?"
"You're serious!" She said with eyes wide and a stunned look upon her face. "You said that you didn't believe in any government mandated institutions!"
"I believe in you. In us. I believe that you are forever in my heart and I want to be yours." He said and kept his hands open and waiting. "I don't care about morality or the declarations of church or state. I want to marry you so that all the world will know that I am yours."
"Haven Lugan Culyagaer. Yes. I will marry you. You are the only man I have ever wanted, needed, truly loved." She said and placed her hands in his. He closed his fingers around her warmth and was filled with a joy unlike anything he had ever known. "Ursula Culyagaer. I like how that sounds. Very much."
"Not as elegant as Ursula Sionessen Sergionova, but I can't legally take your name."
"My mother's ghost is probably absolutely gobsmacked. She said you'd never do it."
"She expected me to propose after the second date." He said and let joy become bliss. "As though I could have if I'd wanted to."
"Let's save talking for the morning." She said and gently pulled on his hands. "I'd like more of those deeds please."
"Brother, best watch your path. Yuroslav has noticed you're not coming home every night. That little prick is a biter who will sell you easy!"
"Thank you Tranh. I appreciate you." Haven said as he finished returning his tools to the crib. Stoyanov the inventory clerk was safe to talk in front of. The man was deaf and blind in one eye and hated having to work in the same factory that had caused his misfortune. "He should watch himself as well. We know how he pays his rent."
"Yes, well Mr. Sindik has an uncle in Internal Reporting. Accusing your landlord is risky. If you don't get photos of those two together you'll be the one arrested for creating antisocial slander." Tranh Vin Cho said with the certainty of a man who, being always suspect, knew all the layers of the watchers. "Božinovski tried to turn in that little weasel Juroslav when he was bending for Khayrullin and nobody knows where he is now. Probably re-educated. They're always watching, comrade."
"I have an application in and a conditional waiver. I'm not exceeding the legal limits." Haven said and stepped back into the corridor. "I'll be careful all the same. Bless you, comrade."
"I don't need blessings. Just don't feed the vultures." Tranh said as they headed towards the exit gate. "I like you. You never give me extra work. You do proper set up."
"I take pride in my work. Besides, you're kept busy enough with these clumsy idiots come every retool." Haven said and they both grinned. Too many of their comrades lacked skill. Or common sense. "I may be coming into some whiskey, if luck holds. Interested?"
"Only if you'll drink with me."
"Deal." Haven said and hoped his luck would indeed hold.
.
"Pavlov, I'm not asking you to risk your name. You know people in Goldenrod Hill. I just need to know how dangerous it will be if I go asking on a friend."
"Havvs, I know you're a careful man, but you don't have friends on the Hill and strangers aren't welcome. Especially if they ask questions." Pavlov said and looked equal parts embarrassed and upset. The electrician was a good man and normally helpful by nature. "Things are unsettled. Something is going on up there and nobody says what it is but it can't be good!"
"That's what worries me." Haven admitted and chose to trust the other. "My woman's best friend has a sister that went missing on the Hill. The authorities aren't investigating. They're claiming she was a sex worker that crossed her pimp and has fled and went into hiding."
"She's not the type?"
"No. Not at all."
"Give me her name. I'll ask and see if I can get the temper." Pavlov said and grunted when Haven embraced him. "No promises. If the locals agree with guv I won't get any more than that."
"But if they don't?"
"I'll get a name for you. Someone trustworthy to contact."
"Thank you, comrade!"
"You can show your thanks by not getting nicked for asking what guv won't." Pavlov said and pocketed the money Haven offered him to pay the potential informant. "You've been down for me before and I think I like you best left alive."
.
Because he was skilled labor and liable to be called for extra shifts, Haven had a Class 4 curfew exemption. As long as he wasn't caught doing anything suspicious he could move more freely than most. His investigation was going to take a toll on his sleep but he was young and fit. Fatigue was not a thing he was unfamiliar with.
On the topic of unfamiliar, the Ministries of Information and Security constantly moved its agents and officers from precinct to precinct. Assignments were normally three months in duration. They thought themselves clever; that this would avoid the possibility of their people becoming too friendly with the local citizenry. What it did instead was create a situation where patrolling officers weren't familiar enough with the area to be able to recognize anything out of the ordinary. And because any 'incident' required extensive paperwork, these officers were loathe to inquire too deeply and thus potentially have extra work to do. Particularly since detaining a citizen that proved to be innocent actually doubled the paperwork.
They placed too much reliance on cameras. Especially when workers all dressed essentially the same and the weather made wearing hats a necessity. The cameras were also well known to work poorly in dim light, fog, mist, rain, snow, all those things that were common half of each day and most of the year.
Haven Culyagaer was an unremarkable sight. An industrial worker with the armband of a skilled technician with a curfew exemption. People like him were proper and upright citizens. They valued the chance to serve the Fatherland and were honored to be able to contribute to the glory of the nation.
Haven Culyagaer felt none of that but understood his situation and was acutely aware of the obligations of appearances. He was supposed to be excited at the prospect of becoming a master lathe operator and being granted the right to vote. But since there was only one party to vote for he didn't see the point.
Nonetheless, when he went to the black marketeers he always carried his tool bag with the false bottom. Any security goon that stopped him wouldn't know that the weight was off or that most of his tools were worn out cast-offs given to "good workers" to sell for scrap.
Haven Culyagaer wore the face of a dedicated and industrious man, firm in his convictions and fervent in his faith in their Glorious Leader. Because life wasn't about truth, or what was right, or what you believed. Life was about being enough of what you were expected to be so that you could, in small increments, have the chance to be yourself when it mattered.
Haven Culyagaer knew exactly who he needed to be at all times. He was only able to be his authentic self in two very specific places. In the arms of Ursula and at his mother's house. The Culyagaer family was still rated a Level 6 family despite Justice's 'crime'. Hergren Culyagaer, the patriarch of the family, had died properly. Killed trying to rescue his comrades after an explosion at Drop Forge #31. Dietman Culyagaer, only brother of Hergren, had died doing his duty fighting a fire at the Customs Warehouse on Freiker Terminal Island. Ariel Culyagaer had birthed two sons, Justice and Haven, and four daughters who were employed, married, and procreating properly as was their duty.
Even Justice had had a proper job as a carpenter with the Housing and Development Authority. On the points ranking of citizenship the Culyagaer family ranked quite high. Especially for being a minority. They weren't religious, they paid taxes and were productive. Having one member guilty of antisocial behaviors wasn't enough to drop them by a rank.
That was life. It was how it was. Nothing was inconsequential and everything was counted and cataloged. The Fatherland was meticulous in their assessments. Patriotism was a continuous obligation and an obligation that only a fool forgot was always under scrutiny and being continuously cataloged
.
"How is Ursula? That lovely gal! She's a treasure and you'd best treat her as such!"
"I do, mother. I never take my luck for granted nor forget what a blessing she is." Haven said as he set the fruits of his latest foray into the underground economy upon the table. Antibiotics, pain medication, coffee, and enriched flour. "My beloved is doing well. She received a pay rise. The customs house implemented her suggestion to improve inventory control."
"She's a very smart girl. And clever too!" His mother said as she offered Haven a slice of semolina bread topped with marmalade. "I talk to your father in my dreams. I know that he's proud of you and approves of Ursula too!"
"Thank you, mother. How is Auntie Therese doing?" Haven said as his nephew Wlada peered at him around the doorframe from within the shadows of the hall. "Are they going to grant her that work reduction? Her rheumatism isn't going to improve."
"Those bastards at the factory insist that she's malingering! They say if she can't do the job they'll replace her with a younger woman!" His mother said and scowled at Wloda. "Nephew, if you have time to gawk that must mean your chores and lessons are done? No! Off with you then. Ah, my dear son! You are fortunate Ursula has a proper job. Poor Therese! Nobody has any respect for a seamstress! The bosses think that the machines do most of the work! But what good is a machine if there's nobody running it?"
"The government has declared that production must rise but offers no incentives or rewards for those who must work harder." Haven said after swallowing a bite of his childhood favorite breakfast. "There's to be extra shifts coming soon at my work. I've been offered, and accepted, the increased hours. It will be time plus, so there's that."
"More weapons? So war is truly coming. Again." His mother closed her eyes momentarily and genuflected. She had lost three uncles in the last war but never spoke of it. "You're skilled in a high value trade. Blessings for that! You should be safe from conscription."
"Yes, I suppose. Nothing is guaranteed but I've nearly got my master's rating." Haven said after a small sip of weak tea. "I've a comrade who's old enough to remember. He says if the war isn't over quickly our pay will be cut even as production is increased."
"You're taking measures?"
"Yes, mother. I'm saving coin and not paper money. I'm gathering those small things that keep and which will be in demand." Haven said and sighed. Life never grew easier, just more complicated. "I have some other news."
"Tell me, my dearest son."
"I asked Ursula to marry me. She said yes."
"That is not news. It's a wonder and a glory! You finally realized what you should have realized three years ago! You and she belong together!"
"We don't have the permits. Haven't even begun the application process." Haven said and felt a profound love for his mother and a pride in himself for being able to bring her this joy. "We have to be able to find someone who can provide viable potential residences for us. The requirement is now up to five."
"And pointless that is! Five! As though those places will remain vacant through the ninety day wait for certification of your suitability!" His mother said and rolled her eyes. She was the one from whom Haven had inherited the ability to always be proper in public but honest in private. "Well if it comes down to it, you'll live here. Therese and I will end the leases to the lodgers. This is the home of two honored widows. The priveleges of that are few, but we do have say over who resides here."
"Thank you, mother."
"You are my true gift from God." Ariel Culyagaer said as her pride and love washed like warm sunshine over her only son. "This family takes care of its own. The Lord knows that the government won't!"
.
Winter was early but then it didn't care what calendars said. Leaving the heat of the factory for the numbing chill of windswept and snow covered streets was always unpleasant. Darkness would be settling in already and the streets were only kept cleared during daylight.
On this midweek evening Haven boarded the tram for the Brightview neighborhood. It bordered on Goldenrod Hill and was a working class district. Haven's travel pass was pinned to his left breast pocket so that the security personnel he would inevitably meet wouldn't feel obligated to stop him to check his documents.
Inside he was tense as a coiled spring under pressure, but to the outside world he was calm as cream. He couldn't afford to actually relax. He didn't know Brightview. He wouldn't know which surveilance cameras were actually in use. Anyone around him could be an informant. The Black Watch had thousands working for them. Not for pay, no. Informants worked under threat of imprisonment after being caught in minor infractions. Extortion filled the government ranks but not its payrolls.
All he knew was that a woman named Yasmine was expecting him at a cafeteria on Brimstone Avenue near Conqueror's Plaza. Pavlov vouched for her and had said that she had been widowed but had not been properly compensated when her husband was lost at sea serving on an Imperial supply ship. Having a reason for dissatisfaction wasn't a guarantee but it was at least an indicator that someone was not speaking to minders.
He had already found proof that something was definitely wrong in the Goldenrod Hill district. Searching through newssheets at the local library had revealed that eleven women had vanished under similar circumstances in the last nine months. Always a woman living alone. Always a ransacked apartment. Each time the authorities declared it to be an incident of a sex worker fleeing abusive conditions. Despite the fact that prostitution was illegal in the district. Brightview had a dozen brothels. Why would any woman violate the law when they could work legally a short bus ride away?
As the tram crossed the bridge over Maximilian the Grand's River he could just make out the lights of the mansions on Crystalmere Ridge to his north. He wondered, as he often did, if the entire world was this unfair. His mother could believe in God and His seldom seen mercy and glory, but Haven could not believe in a creator who was willing to see so many suffer while a very few prospered beyond reason.
He wasn't a man in search of an epiphany through which to discover belief. He didn't feel a need for faith or ephemeral promises of heavenly rewards. He wanted what he knew was within reach. Love. A tiny bit of happiness. The chance to make the day better for those whom he could help. Hergren Culyagaer had raised his sons properly. To actually be good men and not merely good citizens.
It took very little effort to simply do as you were told. It took heart, and character, to find the opportunities to help and then do what you could to make things better. Even if just in one place, in one moment, for one person. It wasn't about acclaim or any type of acknowledgement. It was about doing what was right simply because it was right.
If somewhere, somehow, Hergren Culyagaer was smiling down upon his son, that was well and fine. If he wasn't? If there was nowhere to be after this life? That was well and fine too.
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He knew Yasmine Alizadeah as soon as he saw her. He had never met her and knew next to nothing of her personally but there was one thing Haven Culyagaer truly excelled at. He could read the sorrow and struggle that a person had endured and feel a deep empathy for them. It came from the ability to project himself into the circumstances of another. He knew very well how hard life was.
Yasmine Alizadeah was exquisite but drew little attention. She too was a minority. Her brown skin, blue-black hair and midnight eyes were a birthright she hadn't chosen but bore nonetheless. She was plainly dressed but that made her beauty shine all the more. She espied him as he did her and the momentary meeting of eyes let both know, without a word, that they were to meet.
"Good evening, lady." Haven said and, after a brief bow, sat down across from her. "I am grateful that you choose to give me some of your time. Thank you most humbly."
"I've already received pay. I don't need thanks." She said in a lilting tone of voice that made her words seem to flutter like birds in a breeze. "You are very well mannered though and I appreciate your courtesy. You should at least get some coffee so that we don't appear odd."
"I see no plate. You haven't eaten. Join me then." He said softly as his eyes registered those around him who might overhear. "It will look odd if only I am eating."
"I'm fine thank you. I'm not hungry."
"I'm a skilled worker. I make good pay and also receive a discount. Please. I insist." He said and maintained eye contact. She was gorgeous but he was being sincere and not improperly forward. "If you don't intend for our meeting to last long enough for us to dine, well, that's fair enough. I won't keep you longer than you wish."
"Even so. She was loved. People I care about care enough for her that it is my obligation to do what I can." He said and accepted that he was going to make these words his truth. It was the right thing. Without question. "What I will do in the end? Well, that will be whatever is necessary. I will know when the time comes."
"Then let us get some food." Yasmine said and pushed her chair back. "I'm in no rush if you're not."
.
She had fish and a barley soup. He had roasted pork on rice with a cup of noodles. The food was excellent and not expensive and he understood why the place was so busy. That was another reason that the woman had chosen this place. Electronic eavesdropping would be impossible.
"How old are you? Wait! Let me guess!" Yasmine said after finishing her soup. She eyed him closely and then declared, "You're twenty-nine."
"I am. And I'm also impressed with your powers of observation." He said and smiled a small but honest smile. "Does my age say something to you?"
"It tells me that you're old enough to not be foolish but young enough to still have that fire."
"Fire?"
"This life is cold. This world quenches flames. It wants us to be meek and subservient." She said and tilted her head slightly to one side. It was a small movement that only heightened her beauty. "Some never lose that fire. They learn to keep it within and share it only with those deserving of it."
"You see that in me?"
"I see my husband Afshin in you. He was older than I. Almost forty when he died. But he kept his passion. He was determined to be good no matter the world around us." Yasmine said and her eyes locked him inside of her moment. "You are not related to Kyriena but you are willing to be here, during your own time, and willing to spend even more of that precious time trying to bring some sort of justice to her and her family. You aren't being paid for this. I've asked. I know. Which is one of the reasons that I agreed to meet you."
"And if I may ask, what are the other reasons?" He said and wondered just what she truly saw in him. "You need not share if you'd rather not."
"Money was the second reason. I barely get by and I am not ashamed of that. The government has put me in these conditions." She said and almost smiled. She noticed that Haven noticed that and that in turn drew the actual smile out. "The third reason is that women are dying and we haven't been able to get anyone to care. You appeared to care, so I took this chance. And now, seeing with my own eyes that you do indeed care, I am glad that I came."
"I'm glad that you came as well. And also glad that I haven't disappointed you. Yet." He said and grinned when she almost laughed at his last word. "My father, bless his soul, made sure that I understood that people must care for and look out for each other. It's our duty to do what is right and show kindness and compassion to all in need. I try my best to live up to the example he set for me."
"You honor your father properly. What was his name?"
"Hergren Eldon Culyagaer. He shaped my heart. He is forever in it. I will not fail the trust and faith he had in me." Haven said and had a brief image of his father's smiling face in his mind's eye. "I will cause no harm to the innocent. I will not disgrace my name nor bring pain to my mother."
"You truly are a man. A decent man." She said and seemed to look into his very soul. "So then let me tell you about Kyriena. And the others."
.
He took the tram ride home lost deep in thought. What Yasmine had told him didn't seem to make sense. Shadowy men stalking women, lurking in parks and alleys. It seemed almost impossible that such activities were escaping government notice. The actual crimes also didn't fit the pattern of the normal government ordered disappearances. All of the missing women were ordinary citizens. Not involved in any questionable actions nor involved with men who might be. They were all young and single and employed in proper work.
Someone was targeting them for that very reason. They were young and single, living alone, with nobody to protect them. They were utterly ordinary and thus beneath the notice of the security services. Haven suspected that someone either in the government or with ties to someone within it was responsible. If you knew what cameras weren't working and where the security patrols would be at any given time, you could carry out your deeds with something close to impunity. That was how smugglers and drug dealers worked.
He had agreed to meet Yasmine again. Despite his entreaties she was going to seek further information where she could. Haven warned her that doing so might make her a target as well. "Then avenge me as well." she'd told him with a strange smile. "It isn't only men who can be brave."
This was true. He did not dispute that. He also knew that bravery often turned out to be fatal. She was her own person though. Capable of choice and he himself had no right to try to direct that choice. All he could do was hope that fate might choose to be merciful.
She was far too beautiful to meet such an ugly end.
Christoff von Kierchen was a smuggler and a gentleman. His family had fished the seas for generations until the government nationalized the fishing industry and eliminated family run boats. Only the large companies given contracts from the Glorious Leader himself were allowed to work the seas. So the von Kierchens turned their knowledge of the coastal waters to their most logical use and became smugglers.
Christoff was known to be an honest criminal. Haven had the chance to make his acquaintance during a two week down period when the factory was in changeover. Christoff had sought him out to make a new propeller shaft for one of his boats. They had become friends and Haven had no moral qualms about it. People had to survive and the government wasn't concerned with helping them in that.
The smuggler also traded in information, so three days after meeting Yasmine, Haven sought him out. He went to the Old Fleet Docks. Packet freighters, tramp steamers, and Free Traders used the piers and docks there, making it a perfect operating grounds for smuggling as well. Old sewers allowed illicit goods to avoid the customs and charter house gates and enter the city in a hundred different locations.
Haven had access to the area because repair parts for the factory often arrived on the smaller ships that were legally operated. He entered the Free Trade Zone through the workers gate and headed towards the Old Navy Warehouses that sat next to Pier #9. The buildings were ancient and made from great blocks of stone that made external surveillance impossible.
A freezing fog hung over the waterside, creating glittering halos around each lamplight. The tide was high and thus the area was bustling. Even so he quickly spotted ibn Salim, Christoff's chief mate. The man, ever alert, spied Haven at the same time.
"Safety! I almost didn't recognize you without your usual grease!" The tall and slender man exclaimed. His long beard was decorated with frost but his dark eyes were warm and welcoming. "You look well, my friend!"
"As do you." Haven said as they quickly embraced. "The sea has been kind and the navy still blind, hey?"
"They've given up trying to see us since they can't catch us!" ibn Salim said as he stepped back. "They just pretend we aren't there at all now! So, looking for the boss then? Business?"
"In a way. I have some questions." Haven said as he pulled his hat lower over his ears. "Not about something precisely. There's a thing I'm looking into and I'm trying to get a notion of what kind of man I may be dealing with."
"How dark, lad?"
"Very. Women are being taken. All signs say killed. The government of course won't say that. Or admit it could be happening."
"A killer of women? And you're wanting to find this man?"
"I intend to. Yes."
"And if you do? What then?"
"I'll do what the government won't and stop this man. Whatever that takes."
"Let's go see the boss."
.
"Haven, you're smart and tough but you're talking about finding someone who, if you're right, kills for pleasure. Meaning no other life but his means a thing to him. That includes yours, my friend."
Haven nodded his agreement but said nothing. He had no idea how he was going to do this thing but he had chosen the path. The others in the room were hard men who understood how violence worked. There was Christoff, elegant in his all black suit that truly set off his almost white blonde hair. ibn Salim looking grim and clearly on Haven's side here. Then there was Pruitt, Vinezzi, and Holmbrau, each of whom skippered one of Christoff's coastal runners. In their business they dealt with pirates, slavers, and buccaneers looking to prey on small smugglers. They were all here and alive and so they clearly knew their business and knew it well.
"My friend, you work sixty hours a week. How do you intend to find the time to hunt this beast?" Christoff asked as his fingers checked the waxed ends of his carefully curled mustache. "You have far better things to do with your free time! Especially if you're still with Ursula!"
"I work days. The killer works nights. He so far has hunted solely in Goldenrod Hill. That's a fifteen minute bus ride from my home. Less if I go directly from work. Christoff, this madman took seven victims in the first eight months but has taken four in the last three weeks! Clearly he isn't the least bit concerned with being caught!"
"Haven. Friend of mine. Have you ever gone hunting? Deer? Boar? Rabbits even?"
"Of course not! I've lived my entire life here in Sacred Throne. I know nothing about guns. This is different though."
"Indeed it is. Deer don't hunt you back. These shadowy figures you've mentioned being reported? They are a product of fear. People seeing a danger where it isn't. This man you seek isn't obvious. And it's but one. A gang would have been talking by now. Nor have showed any initial restraint. So it's just one man. He surely knows how to fit in. To appear unimportant while watching, stalking and sizing up his prey. Most murders are personal. Motivated by passion, anger, perceived slights. A normal criminal might kill for money or to protect their business. This isn't like that."
"In Bierceny, over in Weiselandia, a few years back they had a man butchering women." Pruitt spoke up from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke. "All the women were similar in appearance. Someone saw the photographs of the victims and noted the striking similarity to the former wife of a prominent surgeon. Between that and the methods of killing they decided action was justified. They took the good doctor in. He committed suicide before he could be thoroughly questioned. He, however, left a note blaming the killings on the infidelity of his ex-wife."
"What's your point, Benjy?"
"It was sheer coincidence that led them to the doctor, Mosin. The man's motives made no sense out of context. So this killer here? He's got his reason. It might make no sense to anyone not party to his madness. So how do you even know what to begin looking for?"
"There! That's the starting point! That's it exactly! A position that seems unremarkable!" Holmbrau exclaimed and leaned forward over the table. "You've a man who can roam at night with no concern! Meaning he likely has no close family and perhaps not even employ! If he has money, from a respectable source, one that doesn't demand attention, he will draw little notice! He has the means to pursue his whims!"
"Not a high noble. They're constantly involved in machinations. Maybe a younger son of a disgraced house." Christoff said and cupped his chin in thought before continuing. "This is a person with low morals. Perhaps not blatantly, but the disregard for life isn't natural. This person is around often enough that none pay attention to his presence. He clearly behaves in a way that doesn't draw notice."
"He's certainly deeply perverted. He could prey on alley walkers in The Charnels and nobody would care. He doesn't want that. He wants 'proper' women." Vinezzi chimed in, his eyes nearly invisible beneath tremendously bushy eyebrows. "He's smart enough to steal the things that a lowborn burglar would. As a blind. But he takes the women with him. It's got to be sexual. He wants to be free to do whatever he wishes in a place where he won't be interrupted. He has a way to transport his victims and he can leave the district without drawing notice."
"A carter or drayman?"
"No. They're always subject to search. I wager it's not a personal vehicle. That runs the risk of being recognized. This killer has money. Legitimate money."
"He knows how to move. To be inconspicuous. He's also absolutely comfortable with violence. Not sure where he'd learn that. Maybe he wasn't, to begin with. But he likes it now. Maybe that's why he's picked up the pace."
"Definitely a loner. The more he kills the more odd his behavior will probably become. Anyone close would notice the change."
"I'd guess he's also comfortable enough dealing with officials. He has to be able to present himself, under at least light scrutiny, as a proper normal citizen. Say, Benjy, you say that doctor chap butchered his victims?"
"Aye. Cut to pieces."
"But it was personal to him. Hmm. Maybe this is someone with some skill, unlicensed skill mind you, with medicine. And a hatred of women. Perhaps an abortionist."
"Killing his clients? I've never met one of them but I can't imagine they have a particularly high regard for women."
"Excuse me, but why aren't you lot detectives?" Haven said when he finally got over the shock of hearing how quickly these smugglers had taken to incredibly perceptive analysis and interpretation. "By the Lords of the Lost you display an insight and intellect that I'm sure is sorely lacking in our erstwhile guardians!"
"Be a poguer? Bloody hell, no! Piss poor pay and the boot-licking bureaucrats always at your neck? No thank you." Vinezzi said as the others nodded agreement. "We aren't successful out of luck, lad. We know the enemy and we know how little they know."
"But the wise man always tries to stay three thoughts ahead of his foe." ibn Salim said and tugged at his beard. "Put yourself in another man's shoes and you can predict his steps."
"Rex, have Tinny bring us some sandwiches. Will you stay a while longer, Haven?" Christoff said as the others began taking actual notes. "You've brought us something truly worth thinking over."
"How could I leave?" Haven said and chuckled nervously. "You lot already seem to know more about my prey than I'd learn in a month on the streets."
"Can you get us photos of the victims?" Holmbrau asked without looking up. "I'd like to know what our man looks for in a woman."
"I'll try." Haven said and actually allowed himself a bit of hope that he might accomplish this thing and keep his promise.
