Глава 13

But, if I might ask you a question...

Sure.

You didn't express your worries or concerns just now. Your innermost thoughts...

Are to save lives, to put an end to war and hate. Isn't that right?

I've heard that the King of Sarkaz can see into people's hearts. It's different from the ambiguous feeling Ines gets. I probably can't hide it from you.

I can respect a Sarkaz who has struggled since the Babel days.

I hope you can answer from your own free will.

So that's how it is.

Yeah.

I'm... fighting for that future.

Very good.

Thank you for your answer, and your trust.

Logos, Dr. Kal'tsit, you're back!

I've analyzed the Vampiric ritual. The results are worrying.

It is indeed a blood blessing, using ancient and very fine techniques.

The Sanguinarch borrows the witchcraft's power, collecting blood spilled in the war to activate the bloodline within the Sarkaz warriors.

He is giving the Sarkaz a constant reminder of our fundamental differences with the other races. It's less amplification and more incitement.

But most importantly... I'm afraid he's using only a small part of the power he's collected for this purpose.

More energy is going somewhere else, somewhere I don't know. I tried to track it, but the structure of the Arts is complex and chaotic. It only points to Londinium.

What is he playing at?

And that reminded me...

At this very moment, at the center of the battlefield stands a Sarkaz leader even better at absorbing and exploiting death than the Vampire.

If it was really just about strengthening the warriors, why would they bother using the witchcraft of the Crimson Court? And why use an Arts Circle? Such that even the towns on the edge of this war get roped in?

Do you have a theory?

The airship, the Feranmut, The Shard, and the witchcraft device right here.

The Doctor's concerns are justified.

As you said, the Feranmut will be our most important breakthrough, and we must take action as soon as possible.

Whether Vampire or Nachzehrer, even the Confessarii, they are all exposed to Nightingale in a most unusual way, they are taking risks.

There is a reason why the war is being fought at this particular point in time.

...Theresis is preparing his final trump card in Londinium. Sure, seizing the capital of an empire is already unheard of...

But, what could it be?

Let me start with a fundamental question.

A question so fundamental that even the Sarkaz have forgotten it.

'Why are the Sarkaz so uniquely susceptible to Oripathy?'

Sometimes I think that if there really is a Creator responsible for these lands, he's one cruel bastard.

He came up with a really awful disease, where you feel your body being consumed, gradually being replaced by these crystals, helpless to do anything to stop it.

You can feel your very self being removed from your body, day by day.

You can only accept it.

We can only accept it.

And this creation of Oripathy is actually one of the gentler ones across the lands.

The Infected and the uninfected, Nine tells me our persecution is as old as civilization itself.

So... what about poor and rich? Slave and noble?

Foreigner and local? Disabled and able-bodied? Even abnormal and normal...?

A parasitic disease is scary, sure, but Oripathy is only the most obvious, the most prominent of the terrible diseases out there.

The Creator's really awful inventions are poverty, war, bottomless, insatiable greed, the malice and hypocrisy that bring so much suffering, gaps we can never close.

But the truth is, we all know, no Creator came up with that stuff.

Humans, we invented it all on our own.

You and me, we created them.

Good news? Or bad news?

The good news is that the workshop is still intact, the forest hid it good. The dukes and the Sarkaz never got to use it as an outpost.

The bad news is, someone's living there. We saw lights. I walked up, identified myself, and the lights went out.

Might be refugees or deserters.

But they put out the lights... that means they're wary of us.

Our fighters are ready for anything.

No, let's not be hasty. They might just be cautious, or fearful.

Don't jump to conclusions.

And anyway, Red's carrying a pretty long blade. Anyone would want to play it safe.

Why don't I go? I'll have a word with them.

By yourself?

That's enough. The more men we send, the more nervous they'll be. Besides, if they mean us harm, a few more hands won't make a difference.

The sky to the south has been red for the past few days. Percival and the others even found an Arts Circle...

We need to move fast.

There's some risk in that.

I know.

But we made it out of Chernobog.

Fair enough.

We'll be ready to provide support on the sidelines, to make a breakthrough.

This place was some kind of distillery before the Victorian Reunion settled in?

I can already smell the booze. Romanich would've loved it.

It certainly was a distillery.

Secret distilleries like this are common enough in Victoria, dodging around punishing taxes imposed by the lords. They could be used to make crude medication for the Infected.

Soaking, mixing, distilling herbs would work, but purification... no way.

I'm starting to admire the Victorian Reunion. They found this place and turned it into a distribution center for medicine.

When did they start calling themselves Reunion and build all this? I'm not sure.

All I know is that the building is just an old house covered in vines now.

No movement around, no lights in the house.

A figure flashes by the window. Red was right, there are people here, and they've spotted me.

I dust of my clothes and fix my hair, trying to look more presentable.

Hello. Anybody home?

No answer.

Hi, I'm Guard. I've got a team nearby, I'm pretty sure you saw them earlier?

Don't worry, we mean no harm.

The Victorian Reunion used to use this workshop to make medicine.

It brought hope to a lot of Infected around Londinium. Its medicine even circulated among the workers in the sewers below the city's industrial districts.

Whoever you are, you know the war is turning a lot more people Infected.

We want to get things going again here, to help them.

Since you're occupying the place...

We need your cooperation.

We can provide medicine or other supplies. We'll trade fair.

Still, no response.

The doorknob turns, and I grip the hilt of my sword.

After everything we've been through, I know it's pretty likely I'll be staring down a pitchfork or hatchet next. I'm numb to that sort of thing now.

The door opens.

Reunion, you said?

Your clothes... who are you?

Mays.

Come in.

There are more people hiding inside than I guessed. And it's quite a group.

Some of them are obviously Infected, while others leaning against the wall are probably ordinary refugees from the city.

They're all looking over, silently, watching me and the woman in the Victorian Reunion uniform.