Power returns to the right hands

The car drove into a high brick archway and the fine gravel rustled under the wheels. The car drove around the right side of the elegant little park with neatly trimmed bushes and a small artificial pond and stopped at a wide staircase.

The servants lined up in front of the house, and Cal felt a slight thrill. It had been a long time since he'd been home. As he stepped out of the car after the old man, he instantly made a deep impression on those gathered. The female half of the servants whispered quietly with rounded eyes, but all behaved respectfully and modestly.

After saying hello, Cal entered the house: "nothing has changed," he thought, examining the antique furniture, the heavy dark velvet drapes, the antique clocks, even the carpet underfoot, though pale, remembered the master's footsteps. This made Cal feel an inexpressible longing, and without waiting for his assistant he went straight to his study.

He was interested in the only object of value to him, and as he entered the dark room through the massive doors, he saw that the portrait was still in its place above his desk, and not, as he had mistakenly thought, in a safe deposit box.

The old man caught up with Cal and almost stumbled into his back, for the man had stopped in the doorway and was staring at the portrait. It was the same sketch Liam had done years ago. How much it meant to Cal, only he knew.

As he stepped closer, he took the sketch off the wall and held it to his chest, causing the old man to look genuinely surprised. He knew that this portrait had a special meaning to the lord, but it seemed that its meaning was known to his grandson as well. Still, the old man could not take his eyes off the young lord, convincing himself that he was only his grandson, but his heart told him that his true lord was before him.

He had already said goodbye to his critical mind and was ready to believe in any fairy tale. So if Cal had looked back at him now and called him by name, as he had in his youthful days, "Tobias," he would not have been surprised, but would have thrown himself at his feet.

Cal remained in the study to consider his business, while the assistant went to the kitchen to order supper.

Now and then, young girls ran quietly past the open door of the study and furtively cast a glance at the imposing figure frozen behind the desk. "Such a handsome gentleman," they whispered round the corner, putting their hands to their flaming cheeks.

This feast might have gone on for a long time if it hadn't been for the stern butler who gave them a scolding and dispersed everyone to their seats. Serving the two men at dinner, he was strict about making sure none of the young girls lingered in the dining room, and his eyes thundered.

The girls would sigh and prefer to retreat from the room, just to avoid being reprimanded by the strict boss. They would dream about the young blond man at night, and they would tell stories about him by word of mouth.

That night, Cal went out on the balcony and admired the full moon, while the entire female half of the manor and even a few random people, such as the butcher's assistant and the milkmaid, admired him. Standing in the shade of a sprawling maple tree, the flock kept their eyes on the handsome prince on the balcony and later speculated whether there was room in his heart for someone.

Meanwhile, the "prince" noticed nothing around him. For some reason, this house plunged him into deep thoughts and heavy memories. He suddenly remembered clearly how he involuntarily took his eyes off the documents in the middle of a work meeting and looked at the faded portrait.

At such moments, he imagined the artist's hands, his lowered eyebrows, and his bitten lip. How he struggled to remember every detail and match the right shade.

"Liam, do you know what this portrait means to me?" Cal called out mentally.

"If you knew, you wouldn't make me lose you over and over again."

After standing on the balcony for a while longer, and feeling that the spring night was still chilly, he retreated into the house, leaving his groupies without a sight. Collapsing onto a large four-poster bed, the well-fed, wealthy, rested man tossed and turned without sleep. Finally, he touched the crystal and mentally introduced the Twelfth.

"Good night, Elder," he spoke to the old acquaintance.

"Cal? So unexpected… but listen, don't use the power of the crystal. Write down my phone number and contact me in the usual way."

The man dictated the number to him, and Cal went down to the first floor office. After dialing the desired caller, he put the receiver to his ear.

"Cal," the man spoke at once, "we don't use crystals because there is some danger," he was quiet for a moment, "where are you now?"

"I'm at my estate in N***, arrived yesterday."

"Good, it's not that far. Take a bus or train and come to D***, I'll meet you at the station."

"I'll come by car, I have business in D***."

"Well, good, in that case memorize the address," he dictated the street and house number to Cal and then said goodbye.

Cal was never able to find out anything about Liam, but he did feel more awake. If Twelfth had scheduled an appointment, he'd see them all soon, including one insufferable stubborn one. Cal rummaged through his desk and found an old map of the country.

He studied the distance from N*** to D*** and came to the conclusion that he would either need a more powerful car or leave at almost one o'clock in the morning. He had to knock on the room where Tobias was resting, and luckily the man was awake, reading a book and drinking something strong from a glass of ice. He looked interested at the man who had entered and put the book aside.

"Of course, we have sharper autos, you can find them in the garage behind the house."

"I want to inspect and choose right now," Cal insisted, "urgent business awaits me in D***."

"Okay, then let's go now," the aide, with the agility of a young boy, jumped to his feet and tied his robe tighter.

Armed with a flashlight and keys, they went through the kitchen doors to the backyard, where the garage was a separate structure. Opening a side door, Tobias flipped a switch and the room was flooded with bright, even light from the lamps.

"Wow," Cal mentally marveled, "electric lighting still has a way of surprising me." He strode forward and fixed his gaze on the gleaming hoods of cars. At a quick glance, there were about fifteen cars in front of him. They were extended wheelbase models and lightweight, sporty cars that had done well in the rally.

Cal's eyes ran from car to car, and suddenly, he realized that he had never learned to drive a car in his long life. Everything was done for him by the driver. This thought saddened him a little, but not giving in to despondency, he walked around the hall and looked at each car, touched their smooth skin, tried to feel the power of the engine inside.

While enjoying the process, he spotted a gorgeous Superb Škoda model. It was love at first sight. Cal froze and couldn't move from the power and beauty of this black behemoth.

Noticing Cal's interest in this car, Tobias approached and said:

"You have a keen eye for machinery," the old man complimented him, "this is a unique automobile. Only 12 copies were produced. We managed to get one thanks to contracts with the company. Would you like to know more?"

"Yes," Cal said and felt his mouth go dry.

"It's a limited edition that debuted last year. It has the latest eight-cylinder engine with a displacement of four liters and the ability to maintain speeds up to 135 km/h. If you take a trip to D*** in such a beast, it will only take you six hours to get there, even considering the checkpoints and the unimportant road."

"Impressive," was all Cal could manage to mutter and stroked the vehicle affectionately. 

Cal opened the driver's door, peered into the cabin, tapped on the windows. The wheels still smelled faintly of fresh rubber. The spare tire, a novelty for those times, was on the side.

"I'll need a driver," he turned to Tobias.

"All right, Miles will drive, he can handle a monster like this, especially since he's been wanting to do it for a long time."

"Six o'clock in the morning then," Cal said in the same tone he always used, which made the man flinch slightly and hasten to hide an involuntary smile.

They turned out the lights and left the garage. Cal heard Tobias go to the wing where the driver slept and informed him of the time of departure. Apparently the poor chauffeur never slept a wink, for early in the morning, when Cal and Tobias, supervised by the sleepy servants, were quickly finishing breakfast, the car, gleaming like black onyx, fueled, warmed up, and only a hoofbeat away, was already at the main exit.

Cal made sure that Tobias would be comfortable in the car and had thoughtfully brought a blanket and a couple of small pillows for him. The old man's heart melted at this frank concern and promised never to be stiff again.

The head cook supplied them with a basket of food and warm tea in a large thermos. Cal had no idea what kind of glass he was leaving behind on the estate. After the news that the young, handsome gentleman had left the house at dawn, the sound of breaking hearts could be heard everywhere. But there was nothing to be done – the handsome prince left his palace, leaving behind memories.

The car was speeding along the road towards D***. The chauffeur was testing the car for strength, pressing the gas pedal to the floor, turning the steering wheel sharply, and at some point even Cal with his strong stomach began to feel sick.

"Miles, that's enough," the old man pronounced, as Cal still hesitated to command the chauffeur, "just get us safely to our destination."

"Sorry," nodded the chauffeur, "the car is very nice, couldn't resist."

Cal smiled and remembered how not so long ago he had been doing monograms on Azinoth, breaking through the pink clouds, the wind whipping his long hair into his face. Compared to the dragon, this car was clearly a dead nag, but not without its charm.

Cal watched the countryside pass by outside the window and gradually dozed off like his neighbor. The first stop came after three hours for a snack and refueling. Stepping out of the car, the men prostrated themselves and heard the magical smell of baked goods.

As they moved forward, they found a bakery that sold wonderful warm pies with sweet and cheesy fillings, as well as flavorful pretzels and candy on sticks that had the local kids drooling. Cal made a heartfelt gesture and bought a lot of candy for the kids, along with some warm pies for the three of them. Gradually, more and more people flocked to the bakery, and Cal unwittingly overheard the conversations.

"They were taken at night…"

"The whole family was stuffed into a car and driven away…"

"Did you see it too?"

"The neighbors came out to hear the noise, but the soldiers ordered them back into the house…"

"Where did they take them, they seem to be honest people, decent…"

"Who knows, they didn't hide the fact that they were…" further whispered, "Jews…"

The two women took their purchases and left the store, leaving Cal alone with his questions. Later, he managed to overhear on the street that the Jewish quarter was completely deserted and looters had stretched people's possessions. The locals had become afraid of contact with people unwanted by the authorities.

Gradually, an unhealthy atmosphere was building up throughout the country. Cal was forced to turn to Tobias for clarification. The old man invited him to sit in the car for a private conversation and left the chauffeur outside to finish his coffee and smoke.

"It's not worth talking about it openly," sighed Tobias, "better in private and softly, there are ears everywhere. Denunciations are commonplace these days."

"What's going on?"

"Have you heard of Aryan ideals?"

"No.

"Briefly, there are right and wrong races. The Jews have fallen into the unwanted category," Tobias looked around carefully and leaned closer to Cal, "have you heard of Kristallnacht?" the old man shifted imperceptibly to 'you'.

"No.

"Overnight many stores kept by Jews were ruined, the clinking of glass that night caused it to be dubbed 'crystal night'. Afterward, a law was passed forbidding foreigners from holding public office."

"Doesn't make sense," Cal commented

"And don't look for logic," Tobias waved his hand, "the important thing is that the camps are filled with prisoners."

"Camps?

"What, have you fallen off the moon?" the old man looked at the man in bewilderment and didn't know what to say.

"Say, I've been very far away from all these events. What kind of camps?"

"Well, in reform camps," Tobias spoke again, "prisoners work for free in factories and mills. The camps have strict discipline and cruel punishments for misbehavior. By the way, the factory you asked about is where the prisoners from the camp work. The current commandant has a pretty lousy relationship with the factory director, that needs to be rectified, relying on your sanity."

"I'll do what I can, but... what can I do?" wondered Cal.

"All in good time," the old man patted his arm and then leaned over him and tapped on the window. The chauffeur understood the signal and, throwing away the cigarette butt, got behind the wheel.

The rest of the way, Cal listened to a report on the business and his ventures. He learned that his automobile business had also received an order for military vehicles and was doing well. Fortunately, none of Cal's businesses were weapons related, or he would have been in a sticky situation.

Thanks to skillful driving and a fairly fast car, they arrived in D*** an hour early, and so they went to the factory first. It was an ordinary gray building on the outskirts of the city. It looked like nothing remarkable, but the perimeter of the factory was constantly patrolled by military men with machine guns and dogs.

Cal also noticed six towers, from which the guards watched carefully from above. Such total control made it uncomfortable in itself. To get in, they had to hand over their IDs and wait for about twenty minutes.

All this time they tried to hide from the piercing wind and rubbed their chilled hands. It was a rather cold April day, when the sky was covered with steel-colored clouds, so thick, prickly snow seemed to be coming again.

When they were completely frozen and could barely move their fingers, the duty officer brought out a large book and had them sign their names. All this time, Cal was burning with curiosity to ask the assistant why they had to endure such treatment to get into their establishment.

But as soon as the iron door swung open for them, he realized how badly misguided he had been in his possessive musings: the factory was completely under the control of the military. The workers moved in groups under escort, and here and there the guards' huge, vicious dogs swooped down on people.

Cal caught a glimpse of a soldier hitting a man who was trying to catch up with someone in the column, perhaps his wife or sister. The man fell, stunned by the blow between his shoulder blades, and no one tried to help him. Cal's heart was pounding like crazy, he wanted to rush into the thick of things, but common sense kept him from rash action.

Finally, two guards approached the man and lifted him to his feet. Giving him a stern reprimand, they put him in line and saw to it that he reached the workshop. Somewhere behind the wall there was a horn and a scraping sound, it was the arrival of the bus with the second shift. Through a narrow gate into the courtyard entered people in identical uniforms and obediently lined up in front of the shops.

An officer with a book in his hands called out a name and, conducting a roll call, the whole thing took no more than three minutes. Then the shifts went inside the shop and those who had just come out – left the factory and boarded the bus.

"Mr. Tiedemann," a tall man came from somewhere off to the side with a cigarette in his teeth and a coat thrown over his broad shoulders, "I didn't expect that," he held out his hand and said hello to Tobias.

"Richter, I'm unannounced," Tobias turned to him, "let me introduce you to Cal Xavier--the grandson of--"

"Oh, really!" exclaimed the man, spitting out his cigarette. "The very one? I heard a rumor that the grandson won the inheritance of the company. So it's you!?" he eyed Cal appraising and incredulously.

"I'm afraid so," Cal smiled politely, and extended his hand as well.

The man hesitated and still extended his hand in return, not letting go of Cal, he said:

"I hope our acquaintance brings everyone what they want."

Without giving the guests a second thought, he dragged Cal along behind him, the assistant barely keeping up with the youth. They walked around the factory and down a beautiful cobblestone walkway into a very different world. The alley was flanked by rose bushes that had barely thrown up their green leaves and were still shivering from the cold, and perhaps also from fear.

Next, Cal noticed that up ahead was a rather large house with a regular shape. Cal counted three large windows on either side of the door. On the second floor, right above the front door, was a huge balcony and balustrade.

Currently, there were two stubby-looking girls with bright lipstick and fancy hairdos standing there. They were smoking gracefully and flicking the ashes into a flowerpot. Raising his head, the owner looked at them angrily and shouted:

"Hey chickens, get out of my sight, if I see you again, you'll go to the factory!"

The two shadows instantly disappeared, leaving the subtle scent of women's cigarettes in the air. Cal assumed that they were women of easy virtue who were visiting Mr. Richter. As he entered the house, he relaxed at the fact that it was very heated inside.

Instantly, his chilled body began to warm and thaw. The master threw his coat into the arms of a servant girl and demanded that coffee be served in the living room. Rubbing his hands, he waited for the guests to remove their clothes and walk down the long corridor to the spacious room for small receptions.

"Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen, you'll warm up now. You've had to wait a long time for the bureaucratic machine to do its work. Please, I'm powerless here," he deftly pulled open a silver cigarette case and offered Cal a cigarette. The man shook his head, refusing the dubious pleasure, but Richter puffed again.

"Yes, my dear," Tobias said, wrapping his chilled hands around the hot cup, "you have to put up with a lot to survive."

"Who should know about that but me," the landlord said, exhaling a trickle of smoke into his face, "why the hell should we play along with these pseudo-national ideas?"

"Careful Richter, you're being too outspoken, and even the walls have ears," Tobias tried as usual to warn the young men against making radical statements.

"Pfft!" Richter leaned back in his chair and blew a ring of smoke into the air, "tell me better, have you found a way for me to get out of here?"

"Maybe," Tobias replied and looked at Cal.

"I'd like to take this place," the man confirmed.

Richter jerked so hard he almost fell out of his chair. He pitched forward and grabbed the table with his hands.

"Is that true, Tiedemann?" he shifted his gaze to the old man.

"Yes, we're considering that option."

"But the commandant has to like you, don't even ask why it's important, just do what you can. Give him gifts, bring him pretty girls, boys are welcome too, I hear," he leaned back in his chair again.

"I'll bring Mr. Cal up to speed," Tobias promised, setting the empty cup on the table.

"Wait a minute!" suddenly jumped Richter, "the commandant is giving a reception in a couple of days. Why not meet him informally."

The men continued to talk, and then a giant clock in the living room struck the time. Cal flinched and realized he was late for another meeting. Asking permission to use the phone, he dialed the only number he knew, and a worried voice answered on the other end:

"Cal? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I got held up, but I'm already in town. In that case, come to the address, just leave the car a couple of blocks away, you would rather not attract any unnecessary attention."

"I got it," Cal hung up.

"Mr. Tiedemann, I have to be away on other important business, can I borrow the car? Would you mind spending some time here?"

"Sure-fine, go ahead," waved the old man and looked quite pleased. Richter volunteered to escort the guest through the bureaucratic circles of hell.

"Try to take my place," Richter said, opening the iron door to freedom for Cal, "don't want to rot in this factory."

The man nodded and got into the car. When he gave the driver the address, he wrapped himself tighter in his coat and even turned up his collar. Cal didn't know exactly where the house he wanted was, so he warned the driver in advance to park further away and wait for him.

Stepping out of the car in a poor working-class neighborhood, Cal attracted too much attention with his unconventional appearance. No wonder, for his long white hair evoked mixed feelings from passersby. Children gawked at him and pointed their fingers, being the most sincere and simple in expressing their feelings.

Adults, on the other hand, eyed the strange man with suspicion and avoided him. While Cal reached the right house, he was stopped twice by the patrol, carefully checking his documents and asking provocative questions.

Finally, hiding his hair under the sides of his coat and tilting his head, he managed to make it. Looking up, he read the name "Pharmacy" on the sign, jerked open the door, and a bell rang above his head.

A young, ringing voice from behind the counter responded:

"Just a moment, I'll be right with you."

Cal's heart instantly sank: he recognized the voice.