Глава 10

All this time, I've had it in my head that if I fall into the enemy's hands at some point again... I'll be taking this shell with me to my last stand.

...Shame, we improvised that shell ourselves.

How's that got anything to do with—

And I'm very sorry, but I'm not inclined to give you that opportunity.

Eh? My shell—

Looks like the power of a homemade one falls a bit short after all.

But... but he's unscathed, how?

That Sarkaz...

That Sarkaz is their beloved General.

We finally meet. An improvised shell is hardly a suitable greeting though.

I know you've met your share of Victorian soldiers, Sarkaz. After all, a great deal of them died by your hands. I imagine their spirits are practically lining up to crowd your dreams.

No need to be so self-effacing, White Wolf of Victoria.

Even to the Sarkaz, you qualify as a heroic warrior.

As I recall, the captain who rendered Kazdel a sea of flames once more, two hundred years ago, was your ancestor.

Are you some monster who's lived for centuries too?

I had no chance to witness that war.

But listen to the way you talk about it. It's no different from your kin who feed on others' lives to prolong their own.

'Those stained in Sarkaz blood must pay that blood back, thousands of times over.'

Where do you think we came from, Victorian? Just who runs in fear at the restless souls circling Londinium's skies day and night, murmuring their blood feuds?

Did you know? I became a professional soldier precisely because I was fed up with justifying this war we're in.

Come, Sarkaz.

The words of the deceased lingering about my ears are more than you'll ever hear.

And I promised them... I promised them this.

I will not fall until I see my people out of this place alive.