Witnessing, eavesdropping

There was no mention of the sinking of the Sarnasian Royal yacht. No mention of the constant provocation that had been ongoing for a month. The Sarnasians had deliberately and treachorously attacked without reason or warning. As he stood outside the still burning Building #4 he heard how no strategic targets had been hit. All of the bombs had hit, with foul and evil intent and a precision that left no doubt, nothing but civilian housing. Nothing but houses. As a blanket of black smoke blotted out the sky over the harbour, rising from the fiercely burning Imperial Navy fuel storage depot

The Aramite Navy had sunken the ISS Queen's Consort without warning or any cause given. Nyzhakistani fishing boats had provided intel and guidance, permitting the Aramiteian aircraft to find the Consort in the dark. Those sailors who had escaped tbe sinking battleship had been machinegunned in the water and in their lifeboat. (Who did this? The planes? In the dark? Was it the fishing boats? That was not explained.)

A coalition of hostile nations (which were not listed out in full) had conspired, were still conspiring, to take away the power and influence of the Fatherland. It wasn't merely a military move. It was a combined economic, military, and diplomatic campaign to turn the Fatherland into a meek and weakened vassal to those who hated the true strength and glory of the Fatherland. It was the Old Order trying to strip the Fatherland of its rightful place.

The speech went on for over an hour. As Building #4 burned and the government told of immediate austerity measures and rationing and the urgent need for overtime shifts without time plus. Because the Fatherland needed all its resources and the full dedication of every citizen for the coming fight from which they would, being superior and Chosen of God, emerge victorious. Through the strength and the will of the people.

Haven thought it ingenious. Getting the people used to hardships and shortages early. So that the anger and resentment could be blamed on The Enemy. Others were responsibile. These aggressors were the cause of suffering. Anger could be trained at The Enemy, and not at those in the government that had so desperately sought out this war.

"Well that's that then." Zdrava said as the Great Patriotic Hymn played to signal the end of the announcement. "I'll have Sergeant Woodhulll take you round to your place."

"Sir?"

"Just grab clothes and toiletries. Everything else you might need should be available in whatever flat they put us up in." Zdrava said and then noticed Haven's consternation. "We'll be here nearly every waking hour until things are back to running properly. You're my assistant. They'll put us up as nearby as possible. We'll share quarters."

"Oh. I see sir. Yes sir."

"Don't look so crestfallen. We'll probably get a decent flat. One with its own bathroom. " Zdrava said as he lit a cigarette. "The Grand High Inquisitor is likely to be a right cunt until things are back in order. Being with me will shield your from his petulance. I'm not a bad chap. I don't snore. Much."

"So I'm to lose my flat then?"

"Hardly. You've already had a new one reserved for you. I think in Tennerwild. Former home of one of the mid-level managers who have been sent to work camp. You'll have no roommate to worry over either. It will be all yours. When you get a chance to move to it."

"That sounds splendid." Haven lied and smiled. Those convicted of crimes against order had had all of their belongings confiscated. As part of the "compensation for crimes committed." He would have a flat furnished by a family that would never see the city again. Because by law the entire family was complicit. The wives and children would be in auxiliary camps and, being that they would have lost citizenship as well, they'd never come back either.

Haven Culyagaer watched smoke rise into the blue morning sky and did not feel fortunate at all.

.

Major Zdrava proved to be a quite decent roommate. The flat they had possessed only one bedroom but it had a full bathroom plus a kitchen. Zdrava had requested that. He was an enthusiastic cook who seldom had the opportunity to engage in his hobby while in garrison.

They had only coffee and toast in the morning. That was usually partaken of on their one block walk to work. There was a marked increase in security services and military traffic but they were at war after all.

As the Sarnasians reminded them four days later.

This time the attack was utterly unexpected. A group of fast bombers crossed the coast in an unpopulated stretch west of the city. They flew just above the trees and then came in from the north following the Kingshope River.

There were no warning sirens or antiaircraft batteries firing. The first anyone knew was when the first bombs exploded. Direct hits on the coal storage and power plant of the forgeworks.

"What the bloody fucking hell?" Grand High Inquisitor Ingthold said as dust fell from the ceiling and all of the windows in the finishing plant across the courtyard shattered. Nobody ran for the clearly worthless shelters. Everyone ducked under the heavy oak table of the conference room they were in.

"Where's the worthless goddamn air force!" Ingthold screamed as further explosions compressed the air. "The cunts are bombing my fucking factory! My bloody goddamn fucking factory! The goddamn bloody cunts! The bloody fucking nerve!"

Haven exchanged a look with Zdrava. Things were not going as expected. They were likely to be roommates for the foreseeable future.

.

"Fucking incompetent military cunts! Their idiocy allowed those goddamn bombers to hit the city without any fucking bloody resistance! Not a one shot down! Fucking imbeciles!" Ingthold ranted as Haven stayed behind Major Zdrava. The Hammerford Steelworks had been hit as well as the Mid-River Granaries, but their facility had been hit the worst. "Forty percent of structures damaged, thirty-two percent of our machinery destroyed, and now they won't let us utilize the municipal power grid? Utter morons! Absolute cretins!"

"We also lost another five hundred and seventy-one dead workers with another three hundred odd seriously injured." An Inquisitor named Tharpe said and somehow didn't cringe under the angry gaze directed at him by the Grand High Inquisitor. "We need skilled machine operators."

"For what? The machines we don't have?" Ingthold snarled and threw a bundle of reports across the room. The loose sheets fluttered and spun through the dusty air. "Collingwood is probably behind this! I wouldn't be surprised if he knew the attack was incoming and decided not to report it! He wants priority going to his armored cars! The bloody worthless things!"

Haven listened but didn't really hear. He didn't want to know about games of power and influence. He didn't want to think about those meant to protect them sacrificing lives of innocents over petty rivalries. But he was in it now. Awake and aware. No longer blind and ignorant and incapable of the state of mind that said that those in power surely knew exactly what they were doing.

.

Zdrava was fixing them pork and noodles stir fry with beans and peppers. Haven was still very much uncomfortable seeing the man in regular clothes but he would adjust.

"Do we have any of that Curwanian wine left?" The major said as he kept the shallow skillet in constant motion. "It should be on that shelf over the credenza."

"I see two full bottles." Haven said and silently struggled with guilt. "The dark green bottle is the Curwanian, yes?"

"It is indeed! Excellent! Oh, by the way, there will be another grand pronouncement come morning."

"So they don't realize that these speeches stop all work?"

"The people will be thrilled with this though!" Zdrava said and splashed a bit more cooking oil into the skillet with a sizzle. "We sent a message last night. The intelligence reports are in and it went splendidly!"

"What did?"

"Our air forces put up every plane they had! To let the Sarnasian know that we don't play nice!" Zdrava said and set the skillet on a side burner. "Nearly six hundred aircraft hit four cities, including their capital. Plus gunboats crept in on Gesmenere Harbour and launched rockets into the dockyards and worker's quarters. Reliable sources in Sarnasia say over six thousand casualties were inflicted. And the dock facilities are still burning."

"That's a message sent indeed." Haven said as he lost his appetite entirely.

"Hit us and we will hit back harder every single time. Be a dear and open that wine." Zdrava said as he drained the noodles. "The Great Leader will not stand for such insults to our national honor."

Propoganda was broadcast sixteen hours a day. Haven lost weight. His medication stole away his appetite. Zdrava voiced concern but their job left little time for extra thoughts. The forgeworks were producing sixty-five hundred submachineguns and three thousand of the new general purpose machineguns per day but the Imperial Armory Ministry was demanding thrice that number.

They were still only at eighty percent capacity in regards to machinery. Over sixteen hundred workers had died in the two air raids with another thirty-seven hundred seriously injured. Ingthold was trying to get skilled workers reassigned from other weapons manufactories but was having little success.

Haven Culyagaer became what they said he wouldn't be. An informant. Watching for those not putting full effort into their job. The increased productivity demands began causing injuries. Men who were fatigued and under pressure to work faster were not careful men. Foolish mistakes were made. Haven had to watch for shirkers. He had to decide if certain workers were deliberately underperforming in hopes of being offered incentive bonuses.

He lost track of days and the wider world. There was no time off. For forty-one straight days he spent eighteen to twenty hours per day in the forgeworks. The pills made him feel unreal. At one point he forgot that he had sedatives and was awake for over six days. Never leaving the factory.

The Empire was at war. Sacrifices had to be made.

.

"Well, Kolandia and Eormania have surrendered unconditionally. Our troops have entered into Razakhia and Hyderastan." Master High Inquisitor Ingthold announced to Haven as they examined reports of captured raw materials currently being shipped back to the Empire. Haven had no idea if it was day or night. "Magyarania has placed it's army under our control. By summer we should take the Inillanis oil fields. With that fuel we can invade Sarnasia and put those bastards under our heel."

"That's good then." Haven said and had no idea where any of the places mentioned were. World geography wasn't a subject taught in school. "We don't have enough titanium coming in. I don't know where they mine rutile or ilmenite. Kresge says those are the best mineral forms containing titanium ore."

"We will use tempered steel if forced to. It's more important to get those weapons in the field than to have them absolutely reliably durable." Ingthold said and poured himself coffee. "Are you becoming a metallurgist now too?"

"They're talking about mounting your guns in fighter aircraft. If a receiver cracks the pilot can't simply fix it mid-flight." Haven said as he ignored the strange shadow people lurking at the edge of his vision. They were always there now. "Harpster Industries is creating a GPMG specifically designed for aircraft use. It has half the cyclic rate but a plane can only carry just so much ammo to begin with."

"Where did you hear this?"

"Neumann, the sub-minister for armory procurement." Haven said and noticed in the reports that the amounts of captured brass, copper, and lead didn't add up. "Sir? How are they shipping three humdred and ninety-four thousand tons of metals via a fleet with a total cargo capacity of two hundred and sixty-five thousand tons?"

"What's that?"

"The shipping manifests make no sense. And ships are designed for specific types of cargo. You can't ship iron ore in a grain hauler." Haven said and slid several papers across the table to the Inquisitor. "A ship with a deadweight tonnage of seventeen thousand can't haul twenty thousand tons no matter how it's loaded."

"Deadweight? What's that?"

"The total weight a ship is designed for. It includes the weight of fuel, water, ballast, provisions and crew as well as cargo." Haven said and couldn't remember how or when he'd learned this. "An overloaded ship is unstable and likely to break its back and sink in even moderate weather."

"Are you suggesting that multiple ministries are involved in deception and misrepresentation?" Ingthold said in a tone of voice no longer capable of alarming Haven. "Even if they forge all the many documents involved, the shortages would inevitably come to light."

"The details of the subterfuge are beyond me, but this?" Haven said and pointed to the manifest of the freighter I.S.S. Sunrunner, "The design specifications of this ship state it to be capable of hauling 14,700 tons of ore. So how then could it be loaded with 22,270 tons of copper ore? Even if it didn't outright sink the ship, where would they put over half again the weight? Where could you put that much extra ore?"

"Why are you concerned? Why are you even investigating this?"

"Because the Ministry of War is receiving reports questioning the quality of your weapons. Troops are saying they jam frequently. But if the ammunition being produced is substandard it will cause fouling, misfires, and jams. A copper clad bullet that has too little copper sheathing will leave bits of metal in the rifliing."

"What reports? I haven't seen any. How do you know what I don't?"

"Naismith is an auditor for the Imperial Armory. He has a cousin who works in Finishing Plant Eight." Haven said and wished his constant headache would ease up just a bit. "He doesn't want his cousin to lose his job. He'd be immediately conscripted if that happened. His aunt would hold Neumann personally responsibile."

"Why didn't the man come to me directly?"

"He isn't authorized do so." Haven said and wondered how anything ever got done with such a tangle of bureaucracy.

.

"Here. Keep this with you at all times. And wear this."

Haven gazed at Major Zdrava with eyes clearly confused. He turned that same baffled gaze to the envelope and the small cloth bag that had been put on the desk before him. "What, uhm, what's this, uhm, what is this? About! What's this abou?"

"You're one of us now. Well, mostly. In a way." Zdrava said with a smile that Haven didn't see a reason for. "You're now an Auxiliary Inquisitor. In the Ancillary Information Services, subcategory War Industries. This means you're now a full citizen."

"I am?" Haven said as he pulled a freshly printed identification dossier from the envelope and saw his picture on the upper left of the lead page. "Why? I don't understand what this means."

"The Imperial Armory Ministry has been trying to get you into their department. Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Zdrava said while continuing to smile. "Boss wasn't about to let that happen. And now it can't. You're now A.I.A.I.W. type 5, tier 2, GSE A class 8. I'm to take you to the quartermaster right now to get you properly fitted out with uniforms."

Haven pulled an identification tag and chain out of the cloth pouch. Beneath it were half a dozen armbands. He drew one of those out. Black piping, silver cloth, and on each two red embroidered diamonds flanking the letters "AI". He was no longer an employee of Straiigher Forgeworks. He was a full government employee. His days of running a lathe were over.

"You're permanently assigned to the Grand High Inquisitor's retinue." Zdrava said and patted Haven's shoulder although the gesture went unnoticed. "As of this moment you have free full health care, a pension, and universal commissary priveleges. And more. Congratulations!"

"Thank you. But...I'm not trained! I'm, I'm not in the military! How, what, ohh. What does this mean exactly? What do I have to do?"

"The same thing you already do. But as of now? Any other ministry, department, or branch, they don't tell you what to do. And they don't give you grief." The major said and stepped back as he got out a cigarette. "You're one of us. There's a chain of command. If the Minister of War himself shows up here and tries to dress you down, you tell that fucker to talk to Grand High Inquisitor Ingthold. Short of our Glorious Leader himself, nobody brings weight down on you. You're one of us. We look after ours."

He knew the answer but hated himself for it. He hadn't noticed his life slipping away because he had been too eager to please his new masters. Almost desparate for their approval because their praise made him feel important. To maintain their respect he had let everything else slip into the fog of his mind.

He had no idea if anyone had tried to reach him. Not the women in his heart nor his mother nor Rupp or Christoff and his mates. They wouldn't have been able to. He was working directly with Inquisitors. That made his job 'vital and a prime priority' which would prevent 'any personally distracting interactions' from being permitted. But he didn't even know if they knew what he was doing or if they'd tried to contact him.

His new armband felt like a snake squeezing his now much smaller bicep to remind him that he was no longer Haven Culyagaer. He was now Auxiliary Inquisitor Culyeager. He hadn't been asked if he wanted this change but that didn't matter. You did what the government told you to do. Free will was nothing but a fantasy for philosophers to ponder over.

.

"Tomorrow I'm taking you to the District Central Depot." Zdrava told him as they finished supervising the unloading of steel coils from railcars. "There's some important people there who want to meet you. Plus we can use the canteen and spa."

"Is there time for that?" Haven asked as the warehouse master handed over his clipboard to Haven without a word. "Aren't there ten new presses arriving in the morning?"

"Wölzer will supervise that. We won't be coming in at all." Zdrava said and straightened Haven's black necktie. "When bigs call for you, you go. Besides which you've earned a bit of relaxation. More than earned it."

"Why would anyone want to meet me? And how do I behave around such?" Haven said as he felt the warehousemen watching them. Zdrava was making sure the others knew where Haven belonged now. "I've never had anyone even know me until all of this began."

"You've been coordinating between departments and communicating concerns before others even think to look into them." Zdrava said and stood uncomfortably close. Even as well as he knew the man already, it was disconcerting. "You're one of us so now you get the credit you deserve. High Master Inquisitor Ingthold has made certain of that."

"Really? I...I don't know what to say."

"Be with them like you are here, show your knowledge and expertise, and don't hide behind humility." Zdrava said and looked deeply into Haven's eyes as though something was there that wasn't. "Boss is already setting in motion the bonus you most definitely deserve. He's told the right people that you are absolutely indispensable."

"I don't understand that. I'm sorry. I'm not disagreeing with the opinions of my superiors but I just...I've never been anything but a machine operator. That isn't anything special."

"Your observations? About shipments from our new territories? They were spot on." Zdrava said and grinned a wolfish grin. "Three officials in the logistics department of foreign procurements have already hung for their criminal acts. Embezzlement is high treason in times like these!"

"Of course." Haven said as his stomach knotted with sudden cramps. Three men were dead because of what he himself had said. Their guilt didn't matter. His words had directed their fates to the gallows. "I just assumed that others would have noticed as well."

"Nobody did. Because the rest of us think along the ways we know and have known. You see things more clearly because you actually look." Zdrava said as Haven hid all of his thoughts and feelings. The way that he knew and had always known. "Listen to me closely. You're the best assistant that I've ever had. By far. Intelligent, observant, diligent and motivated. I'm proud to have you with us. I agreed wholeheartedly with the boss when he brought up the notion. I told him that you're a good man and that I've grown very, very fond of you. I gladly signed the document of responsibility."

"I'm deeply honored." Haven said even though he didn't fully understand. "I'm quite fond of you too, sir."

"When it's only you and I, sir isn't necessary. Call me Dritan. Please."

"Is that permitted? Oh! Of course it is or you wouldn't say it!"

"You make me glad that I've been permanently assigned to this duty." Zdrava said and, to Haven's great alarm, winked at him. "I have long been forced to deal with incompetent idiots I could barely tolerate. You are both an asset and a splendid companion as well. Having you at my side is a great pleasure. And I mean that fully and completely."

It helped immensely that his 'deeds' were well documented. He himself knew exactly what was on the papers that all nine men he stood before had been provided with. He merely had to exposit how he had made his conclusions and why he had done as he had.

He was informed that twenty points had been added to his performance scale. He didn't know what that meant and didn't ask. He knew better. You didn't need to understand in order to follow orders. Those demanding explanations were subversives. Putting yourself on a level with your superiors by expecting to know as much as they, well that was a disrespectful challenge that would be met with the appropriate harshness.

"Well done! Well done indeed!" Zdrava said with a broad grin when Haven rejoined him in the outer antechamber. "Points granted within days of ranking? Boss is going to be a damn happy man hearing that! You made us all look good in there!"

"So it did go well? I wasn't sure." Haven said as shadow people mingled with the other Inquisitors moving through on business. "I'm pleased I did well in representing the work."

"Representing the work? My dear man, you were flawless! You don't get points for doing well! You get points for impressing the ever loving hell out of the bigs!" Zdrava said and drew Haven into a bear hug that shocked the younger man but drew no notice from others. The major released him and stepped back. Barely. "Now to the clinician and then to the spa!"

Haven went along, silent and passive, because nothing felt real. These people said he was one of them. That he belonged. But he wasn't Surenian. He was a common worker. He wasn't important in any way. He never had been. He wasn't sure who he was supposed to be.

He received an intense but also incomprehensible medical examination. He received multiple injections. The first three made him feel queasy. The fourth though? It was like magic. It made him feel clear and pure and light. He had an energy unlike what the pills had provided, and a warm sense of well-being unlike anything he could remember. The internist noticed Haven's reaction.

"Vitamins and supplements, son. A strong mind in a strong body. That is health. And you owe it to the Fatherland to be healthy." The doctor said as he sternly eyed Haven's nudity. "You will begin eating better. I will instruct your supervisor that you are to also follow an excercise regimen. Your strength is the greatest gift you can offer up."

"Yes sir. Absolutely sir."

"I'll mark you as Category VII genetically. You can thank me later."

If Haven had understood that last statement in any way, it all might have gone differently. But he did not and so the story went on.

.

Still feeling incredible due to whatever the injection was that they'd given him, he happily went along to the canteen. Where he had the best stew he'd ever tasted and beer that he enjoyed a bit too much.

Zdrava took him to the spa. Where Haven was forced to admit that he didn't know how to swim. He'd never actually even seen a pool, let alone one so enormous and clean. With heated water! Zdrava insisted on teaching him the basics. Which was awkward because they, like all the dozens of men using the pool, were nude.

"We celebrate our masculinity because having it gives us the ability to serve the Fatherland best!" Zdrava assured him as the older man kept his hands on Haven's stomach to keep him in the proper posture. "It is a great blessing. To be a man! We are blessed for We are made in God's image! Our forms are those of perfection!"

Haven hadn't the confidence to compare himself to all the other men around him. He was pale and thin and his dark hair stood out. In the sauna he kept his attention on Zdrava. Even though all those around him treated him with an unexpected camraderie. He found out part of the reason for that come evening.

"He's ready for the mark!" A beautiful young man said as they moved into a hallway leading to a new area. "What a grand thing, lad! It's a proud thing and a great honor and we're happy for you!"

Nobody explained that until it was actually happening and nobody explained that this was his last chance to escape. He didn't know. Even if he had he wouldn't have had the nerve to walk away. So he sat perfectly still as the symbol of the Inquisitor's Service was tattooed upon his right hip, and his new service number was linked upon the inside of his right bicep.

He was Them now. Claimed and counted and beyond reach of the old world he'd dwelt in.

.

He was comrade no longer. Now he was 'brother' or 'Inquisitor' or 'sir' depending upon who he was talking with. He was given a book. A book only a very select few were allowed to read. It told of the true path the Fatherland was on. It listed the insults, injustices, and indignities inflicted upon the Fatherland by inferior people's who had abused power gained through only incidental circumstances and not because they had earned that power.

The Fatherland was destined to create a better world. Where the weak and inadequate were kept in their place to prevent them from tainting and poisoning the greatness to come. He didn't really have the context to understand everything but he could see that wiser and more intelligent men were keeping count and would rectify things.

It was indisputable. The world was a mess and it clearly came from allowing weak countries to have a say where they shouldn't have. The Fatherland was strong. It didn't need coalitions to stand it's ground. Allies came to them, they weren't sought out. The Fatherland stood strong. It knelt to no other. It never came crawling to others. It never weakly begged from others with hat in hand, hoping to be given what it hadn't earned and didn't deserve.

One thing that Brother Haven Culyagaer did understand was the reason why so few were given access to The Book. Weak minds would fear the path that was inevitably laid out before them. Inferior peoples would twist the message to make themselves appear to be victims when what was due was properly collected.

Their workload changed drastically as well. To such an extent that it was disorienting. Instead of spending well over a hundred hours a week at the forgeworks they now worked three twelve hour shifts. In the entire week. Just Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Master High Inquisitor Ingthold had secured increased funds and had acquired all the additional workers required to get the forgeworks up to full production. Other assistant Inquisitors had been trained in Haven's techniques, and those handled most of the ordinary tasks. This was possible almost entirely due to Haven.

The fraud uncovered by Haven's observation had been costing the government millions. In addition to eliminating that burden the government was saving tens of thousands in salaries that could no longer be collected. Over two hundred officials had been executed for their part in this treason. Haven didn't know this and lacked the ranking and clearance to know of it. It shouldn't matter either way. Mercy was a weakness. The guilty demanding undeserved grace for offenses they had knowingly committed.

.

"Dritan?"

"Yes, Haven?"

"Is it forbidden to marry in our department?" He asked on a quiet evening that had left room for thought. "Nobody seems to have families."

"It isn't specifically forbidden, no. But consider this." Dritan said as he sat near the garden window, looking elegant and debonair in his silken evening gown. "One who marries cannot share the knowledge we have, nor discuss the work we do. Even if such things were permitted, what woman could fully understand our love and devotion to duty and Fatherland? Only another man can comprehend the profound feelings our hearts hold. We are made different. I know that you know this."

"I do. Yes." Haven said but felt a strange almost melancholic aching. His other life seemed almost a dream now. His new life had gone from being almost overwhelmingly demanding to a gentle routine, and both states were alien to the man who sat here now. "When I was at the gymnasium this morning I overheard a brother talking about eligible children and I didn't know what he meant. I didn't ask because I didn't want to intrude."

"Ah. Well the answer to that is quite simple. It has been determined by the Minister of Reproductive Medicine and the Directorate of The Party that children are the most receptive to training." Ardjen said after lighting a cigarette and adjusting his robe. "Regional doctors report potential candidates to Central Authority's Patriotism Chief. If they pass the full screening process they are accepted into various of the new training academies. Usually between the ages of five and seven."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"They can be guided and raised properly that way. Physically, emotionally, socially, and civically." The major said as smoke swirled around him in the beams of the evening sun falling through the window. "We are creating healthy, motivated, absolutely dedicated citizens. Free of the potentially corrupting effects of an inappropriate home life."

"They don't get to go home?" Haven asked, even though he knew the answer. When he was a comrade there had been rumors about such as this. "I suppose letting that happen would be disruptive to their education."

"The Army, Navy, and General Security Division allow the candidates at their academies to maintain family contact. Under the clearly mistaken assumption that notions of defending the family will motivate their trainees." Dritan said as he brushed at errant ash from the cigarette that had fallen into his chest hair. "Mothers are the most detrimental factor in a young man's life. Coddling them. Encouraging emotions and steering them away from true notions of masculinity. I know you agree. You haven't even asked, let alone attempted, contact with your mother. I told the boss you wouldn't. That you were a true man. I am proud of you. Also proud that you've proven me right."

Haven smiled and it was almost genuine. It couldn't actually be honest because he had wanted to talk to his mother but had never found a moment where it felt like his request would seem proper. That and the fact that he wasn't at all certain that his mother would understand why he had joined the very ministry responsible for his older brother's death. In fact he wasn't sure that anyone from his previous life would be able to comprehend just how important his new job was. They heard the good news from the war. They had no idea of all that was required to achieve those successes.

"There is no truer love than that shared by men who have become brothers." Dritan said and Haven nodded without looking towards the other. He didn't want the confused emotions in his eyes to be seen. "I would die for you. As you would die for me. What other love is deeper and stronger than that? You don't need to hide anything from me. We are brothers now. Our love is right and pure and proper. Noble. The highest form of the emotion. A strong mind in a strong body has a strong heart. Needing not the softness of weaker and lesser loves."

Haven nodded but his eyes were fixed upon his hands. Hands already going soft and losing their calluses. Everything was going sideways. He knew what the major was really trying to say. Because he understood more about these people than they did about him. Two days prior at the gymnasium someone had made the mistake of thinking the Haven not knowing how to box meant that Haven didn't know how to fight.

It took less than twenty seconds to knock his opponent out. A burly and tall Inquisitor named Paffenstock. Haven had went straight in, willing to take blows to close the gap and then he launched a flurry to ribs and liver before two uppercuts finished it off.

All the onlookers were stunned silent. Nobody cheered his victory. He didn't explain that doing maximum damage in a minimum time was how you survived a real brawl. To him it was common sense. These 'warriors' thinking form mattered in a real fight were naive. He hadn't cheated or broken the rules. He'd simply done what he had always done when facing a bigger opponent.

"You look very fine tonight, you know. Very fit. Very handsome."

"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."

"Your fiancée though. We should not be...what is that look?"

"I've never felt this with her."

"Felt what?"

"Like I'm finally home."

.

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?"

"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 in turn 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 "

"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 family 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 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."

"You sure, lad? It's gonna be ugly."

"I do though, Mosin. I do." Haven said and looked at Christoff. So he would understand aa well. "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."

"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 now 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.

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.

"Thought yer would be safe killing women living lone. Thought none would care. Yer thought wrong, ya cunt. Ha! 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. Yer need to know just what pain really is, fucker."

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. Loathed in life. Unmissed and unmourned in death, you will pass from this world. I will say my first prayer ever. Asking for your eternal torment. I sincerely and fervently 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

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'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.

.

"You've been given an honor but is it one you really want?" Ursula said to him as they had an early supper at a café on Sweetwater Boulevard in the Anvilton district. "You aren't going to get proper sleep! Working seven to one of both morning and night!"

"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."

"But you accept it."

"I do. It's not that different than a factory. Everyone works there but there are many different jobs and nobody knows all that is done." Haven said and glanced around the busy café. He hadn't told anyone about Davion Metetiere yet. He didn't know how he could. "They removed the entirety of upper management. Men I thought untouchable are facing execution or hard labor in the work camps. None escaped through influence or bribe or favor. In all honesty? I respect that more than any promise made. It's proof that sometimes the law is inescapable no matter who you are."

"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.

"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."

"Thank you. I hope they are."

"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 in their face 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 instead of 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."

"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 couldn't kiss you with that mustache!"

"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."

"God forbid! I love you just the way you are. But not like that!"

"But maybe..."

"Not like that either!"

"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 having 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, they 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."

"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."

"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."

"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 very 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! But when it comes 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 of what 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?"

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."

"Tell him, grandfather, about the Eilesan."

"I hear you have a lady. She's Achimené. Well, when the next war starts the government will need an easy target for the citizens to take their rage out on. During the Second Coastal War they chose the Eilesen to play the part. A minority. Outsiders. Not true citizens. Clearly not trustworthy. Have you even heard of the Eilesan? Of course not. They were exterminated. The ones not murdered at the hands of their fellow citizens were sent off to construct the work camps that are still used. Once those camps were complete the surviving Eilesan were deliberately starved to death. Long live our Glorious Fatherland!"

"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 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?"

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.