Chapter 3: How to kill people like me

In ten lifetimes, I had learned to hide my emotions, but this time, it took considerable effort—not to conceal my shock, but at least to regain my composure quickly.

Standing on the threshold was Osmond Cloudworks, and he had the audacity to look completely alive. Osmond, once a capitan in the Army, had accompanied my past reincarnation on a journey to Tenebris—an attempt to find answers that ultimately led to my downfall, drowning me in imperial intrigues. There was a ambush; we were attacked—most likely by Them—and I had seen with my own eyes how Osmond detached in a shuttle, how he was hit mid-flight, and how Ruby Oil from his tanks exploded in fireworks behind me and my shuttle captain, who would later be executed. I didn't have long either—the Council and the Empire had already clashed, the enemy attacked all the planets of the Union every night, and Oil was catastrophically scarce.

After such an explosion, there should have been nothing left of Osmond. Yet here he was, smiling and looking at me.

"You seem to have grown younger, Your Grace."

So, not only was he alive, but he was also fully aware of my reincarnation. What a surprise. And perhaps the reason for such awareness was Amalia? I shifted my gaze to the woman and saw that she was savoring the effect she had created, which irritated me.

"If you were expecting me so much, maybe you could explain what's going on?"

"What should we call you?"

"Mira. That's my name."

"Alright," Amalia replied, finally taking pity on me, though I had already recovered and was quite certain my face no longer gave much away.

Osmond settled into the chair beside me, allowing me to take a closer look at him. Deep shadows lay under his eyes, like the tracks of unshed tears, and his entire figure reflected a strange exhaustion, as if he had lived through thousands of lives before making it here. Or was it just my impression from the body of my twenty-year-old new self, while they had naturally aged? No, Osmond had clearly been engaged in something more harmful than just the passage of time.

Once a young and reckless apprentice of the Chrono Guild, he now sat with slumped shoulders, his clothing—thin dark fabric peeking from under his cloak—resembling monc robes. Which, in principle, made sense.

"How did you survive?" I finally asked.

"Chrono-bag," he explained briefly. "Illegal one, from the cheap underground flea market on Retgaron. It malfunctioned, throwing me a few weeks forward—just enough to avoid the fate that shuttle. But I couldn't save you, even though I seemed to have everything to do so. I failed to save my queen—what kind of captain does that make me?"

He looked me in the eyes, and there was something there that made me turn away.

"So I did the only thing left. I made it to Tenebris. The monks took care of me for a few months, and then I saw no other path but to join them and search for answers to your question."

I said nothing. I don't believe in coincidences, but this was something more than just luck.

"And did you find them?" I asked quietly.

Osmond smiled that same half-smile he always used to respond to my provocations.

"Not exactly. But I found something else. Though maybe Amalia should tell you what kind of impression your letter once made on her?"

"Let's just say it left an unforgettable impression," Amalia stifled a laugh and stood up to get something strong from the bar for herself and her guests. I noticed that she seemed to avoid coming too close to me.

"I am the head of security and, formerly"—she paused, but I would have guessed anyway that this was far from the truth—"formerly, the best tracker of Noctemar. Your confession explained all the mysteries, tied together all the loose ends I couldn't solve. It explained why I suspected you of espionage, and it explained something else as well. But honestly, I didn't know where to start. If the Law chose a new emperor immediately after your death, I thought it would be good to find the chosen person. Though beyond that, I had no ideas—I didn't know when your reincarnations regained their memories. And what would I say to that girl? How would I even find her among the emperor's circle, if she was already there? But I searched. And I waited for you."

"I see. So, you two met in a club for anonymous searchers for the future queen-consort?" I couldn't resist the sarcasm, though Amalia and Osmond's story truly moved me. I hadn't expected to have friends.

Amalia took a sip of strong whiskey from the East of Zion and continued:

"I started looking for leads on Tenebris, since even I had no access to their libraries. And eventually, I found among the monks' records a strange captain who was constantly punished for negligence with library access and who kept loitering around guests from the Chrono Guild, seeming far more interested in them than in the robed monks and the matters of the Law they oversaw. Until he was caught sneaking into the secret archives at night."

Amalia paused, giving Osmond a chance to continue.

Osmond looked at me calmly.

"And what were you looking for?"

"I didn't know then. You never told me about yourself," he answered simply.

Something in his response made me clench my fists. I had been planning to tell Osmond—he had helped me so much, and he was loyal to the crown. But the emperor dissuaded me. Now I wonder—perhaps it was jealousy.

"But I knew you were searching for something on Tenebris and in the archives—something that would explain how exactly the Law chooses the next ruler. How the Law works in general."

"And what did you learn?"

Osmond took a slow, almost deliberate sip from his glass.

"That someone out there is dreaming of the Law choosing no one. Leaving the emperor's name blank."

Silence fell over the room.

Amalia set her glass on the table and looked at both of us, as if assessing the situation.

"And who would that be?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Them. Maybe the Council. Maybe both. Who benefits from chaos? Or from eternal Council rule? And what about the mines? Since we don't know what the Law really is, we can't judge motives..." Osmond mused. "And then I found out that someone else had started an investigation on me."

"That was me," Amalia chimed in. "I saw the records about this oddball stealing useless archive keys and dug deeper. Imagine my surprise when I found out, through my own channels, who Osmond had been before becoming a monk, that he had served you, and about your last... well, trip. So I contacted him—I needed an informant. That's how our cooperation started. And later, I decided to tell him everything."

"Alright. But what's so bad about the Law choosing no one? Maybe I would have been free. Maybe my trap would have opened."

Osmond leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"There are things better left unsaid on open channels."

I noticed Amalia tighten her grip on her glass but say nothing. I didn't have time to understand this reaction before Osmond spoke again.

"Recently, in the Tenebris archives, I found something. It's not just a record. It's essentially an instruction manual—for killing people like you. Permanently."

A chill ran through me.

"You're talking like I—"

People like me? What kind?

Were there others like me? My heart pounded as if it would break through my chest.

"If you want the truth," he interrupted me, "you'll have to come with me. Because what I found can't be explained with words. It has to be seen. And I brought it with me."

"It—what?"

"He refused to show me either, since we already knew that any moment now, a new emperor and his wife would arrive at the Tower. We were waiting for you."

"Osmond, what kind of joke is this? Tell me what you found. What instruction? How to kill people like me? Where did you get it?"

"I tell you, I have to show you. We'll go to the Old Observatory on the outskirts of the City in the evening, and I will satisfy your curiosity. Amalia will provide us with security that won't wag its tongue."

Amalia spread her arms theatrically, as if to say, "Well, look at that, nothing I can do."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing from Osmond to Amalia. They were my friends, right?

"Fine. But first, I have to attend a diplomatic lunch with my dear husband, the Emperor."

I'd use the time to think about whether I could really trust these two. I had no one who came closer to the idea of a friend than they did, but everything was a little too convenient, and my gut told me something was off.