Happy Life
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- I have business here. And I need to speak with you. Yes, if you don't mind... - the agent paused, pulled the nearest stool closer, and sat down a step away from the doorway, positioning himself to see the corridor out of the corner of his eye, his hands on his knees. - Why stand around like at a market, right? I didn't want to intrude, but since I'm here...
Malice wasn't particularly good at talking, but he repeated what he had been taught many years ago in the organization for similar situations - he didn't make unnecessary movements, didn't force a fake smile, and simply remained calm.
- My name is Stilus, uh... Sailasson. But it doesn't matter what my name is - I'm nobody. Just listen to me. I'm here to deliver information to Klimen Deris, - he raised his palms and eyebrows in a conciliatory gesture again. - You're lucky I found you first. Because I'm a good guy, unlike the scum that hangs around the Duke's doorstep. In short, he knows that you and, uh... your son, your student, your kid, are in this city, and he's thrown all his resources into finding you. He has mercenaries and soldiers and spies on the railroad, on the regular roads, and at all the junctions and exits from the city. They're just not as good guys as I am - they wouldn't calmly talk to you in the kitchen, without weapons. They would just cut you down, and knock the kid out with a club and throw him in a sack. And they will find you very quickly - you're not very good at covering your tracks....
He took a breath and shifted the conversation to a new topic.
- But don't despair! You have a chance to get out of this situation, preserving what remains of your honor and, uh... health. I won't hinder you, of course, - the Beliad added hastily. - I'll just leave if you decide otherwise... But think about this. The Duke is very upset - you can understand the old man, after all - and he wants to get his kin back. If you return voluntarily, the two of you, and not in a sack on the shoulder of some thug, and say that, well... you went out for the weekend? Then he'll understand. He is, after all, a Duke. He is already, uh, what is it called?... In a state, what was it?... Negotiation? He's almost crawling on his knees around the estate, crying, the servants don't know what to do, the guy is really emotionally broken. He's already ready to understand and forgive. Well... - Malice squinted pleadingly. - If you don't return, then, uh... Even if you manage to escape from him - but where will you go? Through the swamps and forests? He might, well... harm your loved ones, or your colleagues at the school, or even the students. He is, after all, a Duke. It wasn't explicitly stated, but you understand. Even I understand - you might not be able to tell by looking at me, but I've dealt with all sorts of aristocrats. They're like children - if you don't change their diaper, they'll start to fuss, but if you give them a rattle, they'll be overjoyed. Uh... that's what I wanted to tell you.
The agent wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Malice wasn't particularly good at talking, but he repeated what he had been taught many years ago in the organization for similar situations - he didn't make unnecessary movements, didn't force a fake smile, and simply remained calm.
- My name is Stilus, uh... Sailasson. But it doesn't matter what my name is - I'm nobody. Just listen to me. I'm here to deliver information to Klimen Deris, - he raised his palms and eyebrows in a conciliatory gesture again. - You're lucky I found you first. Because I'm a good guy, unlike the scum that hangs around the Duke's doorstep. In short, he knows that you and, uh... your son, your student, your kid, are in this city, and he's thrown all his resources into finding you. He has mercenaries and soldiers and spies on the railroad, on the regular roads, and at all the junctions and exits from the city. They're just not as good guys as I am - they wouldn't calmly talk to you in the kitchen, without weapons. They would just cut you down, and knock the kid out with a club and throw him in a sack. And they will find you very quickly - you're not very good at covering your tracks....
He took a breath and shifted the conversation to a new topic.
- But don't despair! You have a chance to get out of this situation, preserving what remains of your honor and, uh... health. I won't hinder you, of course, - the Beliad added hastily. - I'll just leave if you decide otherwise... But think about this. The Duke is very upset - you can understand the old man, after all - and he wants to get his kin back. If you return voluntarily, the two of you, and not in a sack on the shoulder of some thug, and say that, well... you went out for the weekend? Then he'll understand. He is, after all, a Duke. He is already, uh, what is it called?... In a state, what was it?... Negotiation? He's almost crawling on his knees around the estate, crying, the servants don't know what to do, the guy is really emotionally broken. He's already ready to understand and forgive. Well... - Malice squinted pleadingly. - If you don't return, then, uh... Even if you manage to escape from him - but where will you go? Through the swamps and forests? He might, well... harm your loved ones, or your colleagues at the school, or even the students. He is, after all, a Duke. It wasn't explicitly stated, but you understand. Even I understand - you might not be able to tell by looking at me, but I've dealt with all sorts of aristocrats. They're like children - if you don't change their diaper, they'll start to fuss, but if you give them a rattle, they'll be overjoyed. Uh... that's what I wanted to tell you.
The agent wiped the sweat from his forehead.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
