Posts from The Empire of Reimia (3) Auto-translated

-- Really?! T-thank you... I'll try to return the money I spent if you do that...
"It's so awkward... But, thinking about it, Moriner always helps everyone, so his reaction isn't surprising... I should have been more modest; how foolish of me."
It seems that Xenomia's day is coming to an end.

-Don't worry about the money. You helped me, I help you.
After this meeting, Moriner did not forget to give Linnea the boots he had previously purchased and began gathering the modest belongings necessary for his departure.

I'll write a proper post later

Added 3 hours 55 minutes later

Great and tragic changes in life often sneak up on their victim unnoticed, when they least expect it, only to deliver a fatal blow with a single powerful strike. No matter how prepared a person may be, they can never prevail in a hopeless game against their own fate, and every single match won by some miracle will cost them manifold subsequent humiliation. And the more the doomed prey tries to break free from the predator's tight grip, the more it prolongs its suffering and agony, bringing only additional pleasure to the hunter himself. Foolish philosophers, who proudly praise the utility of physical and mental pain for tempering character and strengthening will, in reality have never encountered life upheavals sufficient to easily turn their primitive faith and ideology inside out.
No one in Moriner's family was distinguished by a positive outlook on life, and after the reforms of the newly minted Empress and his encounter with the statuette, he lost whatever hope remained for a happy future. But on the other hand, he did not believe that fate had been excessively unfair to him: over the last few months, the student could count a dozen instances that could have significantly and irreparably worsened his existence. He studied at a prestigious academy, lived in comfort and wealth, had practically no conflicts with classmates or teachers, was quite healthy, unburdened by heavy and monotonous work, and aimed for good career prospects. But alas, we grow accustomed to the good too quickly, we stop noticing it too easily, while even the slightest hardships can painfully cut our souls like a sharp knife for many years.
The crunch of sticky, fresh snow underfoot tore the student from his binding gloomy reflections. Fortunately, the journey to his new place of study was not far, and Moriner left the academy early in the morning to make several transfers important to him. Stepping to the edge of the hastily cleared road, he walked with a confident stride away from his home station, risking soaking his feet in small, neatly piled snowdrifts. The local enterprise seemed to be belching smoke into the sky without any break, leaving a light lilac haze hanging in the air. Tiny gray snowflakes danced playfully across rooftops and the shoulders and heads of rare passersby hurrying on their own unknown business.
Reaching the gate of his childhood home, Moriner froze in stupor: the fence was completely gone, the front door, taken off its hinges, lay nearby in the garden, construction ladders blocked the windows, and part of the roof was cluttered with some tools and other repair equipment. Junk and debris were scattered everywhere; loud hammering and coarse voices could be heard from inside the house. Unable to tear himself away from the scene before him, the student stood motionless until one of the workers, who had stepped onto the porch for a smoke, noticed his gaunt figure.
-What do you want? -a little man shouted rudely at Moriner, and then, receiving no answer, hobbled toward him, pulling his head deep into his tattered jacket. -Are you deaf or something? Or are you from Master Regor?
-Me? Oh, no. Forgive me. -Moriner turned sharply on the spot and almost ran away from the house, leaving the builder to watch him go in confusion.
-What's happened to people these days, pfft. -Tossing his cigarette butt into the damp snow, the little man shrugged and hurried back inside.

Another snowy station, ten minutes along a deserted path, and a gloomy landscape of burials and graves. Moriner had heard that in former times, demons and other unholy creatures had repeatedly desecrated these places, raising the dead to serve their terrible deeds, but now this seemed more like fictional tales. Either way, according to rumors, the city authorities had indeed restored the cemetery relatively recently, so currently only the first generations of common families and poor citizens of the empire rested here. The student had no desire to verify all these facts right now.
His father had never cared for special events or rites; he was unwilling to throw money away on them and was not a religious man himself, so obviously, his current place of rest was nothing more than a mundane formality. After some effort in finding the modest plot, Moriner was surprised to find dried, frost-covered flowers there.
"Probably simple-hearted Mityena." -He remembered the sole servant with warmth. "I hope she is alright."
The student stood for a while, shivering from rare gusts of cold winter wind.
-Forgive me, father. -he spoke softly but clearly. -I failed you. I couldn't be with you in your final moments. But I hope you found peace and serenity... somewhere.
He remained silent for a bit longer.
-You know, I got rid of that statuette. And also, I was hired as a military journalist! And our class almost won the Competitive events. Also, an acquaintance and I nearly blew up a female student with a homemade grenade launcher... And because of me, a church burned down, many people died... Oh yes, I fought for the first time in my life. Or rather, I was simply beaten while I was unconscious. And I spent time in solitary confinement. And girls often visit me, yes. Though mostly for my wallet... Haaa, what an eventful first year!
Another pause.
-I'm afraid I won't manage, father. If war breaks out, I won't be able to stand up for myself. I didn't want to take lives using a weapon, and now I will take lives with a single stroke of the pen. And the most terrible thing is that no one has the power to prevent it. It's as if there truly is some Creator, only not kind and merciful, as religious enlighteners like to imagine, but something else entirely. As if he too is writing his own book, and also twists the fates of many thousands of innocent souls with a single sentence, simply for his own amusement.
Moriner kept rambling and muttering until his lips were covered in a layer of ice and his breath was cut off by a gust of cold wind.
-Alright, farewell. Thanks for listening, father. I really do feel a bit better. -Wrapping his winter cloak tighter, Moriner adjusted his slipping bag and strode toward the station with wide steps, almost sinking into the snowdrifts.

-Orion, Orion! -someone's animated shouts woke the student from the slumber that had overtaken him. Pulling his blue-tinged cheek away from the side window, he looked out by habit, as if trying to recognize his new stop.
"Well then, Moriner, here is another turn in life. I hope I don't veer off the road."

Stepping out of the train carriage, Moriner was met with the familiar chill of the December weather and the somewhat unfamiliar, yet equally cold, stares of some strangers. Judging by their uniforms, they, like him, were also students at the military academy, but their behavior resembled that of bandits. Fortunately, they didn't get a chance to cross paths with Moriner – officers from the Reimy police department detained them and led them away.
Without wasting any time, the student headed to the indicated address and, after reaching the location, wandered around for a while until he finally had no doubt that his destination was a one-room apartment in a rather old and, consequently, not the most attractive area of the city. Knocking on the door of the room he needed, he found that the door was unlocked – it opened when he tried to knock.

"I've been cooped up in the capital, living in comfortable conditions. It's time to get used to normal life," Moriner decided, assessing his first impressions of Orion. He only regretted that he hadn't thought to leave his savings at the Academy – they would have been safer there.
-Excuse me, may I come in? – the student said hesitantly, peering into the room.

Inside the room, Moriner observes various items scattered around. On a table in the center of the room, there are boxes of food, leftover pizza slices, and empty packages of instant noodles. On one wall, a large map of the empire hangs, marked with various notes and photographs attached to it, while on the other wall, a large poster is visible. On the couch in the middle of all this mess, a young man, unfamiliar to the student, is lying down. Judging by his snoring, he is asleep and still wearing his clothes.

Moriner stood bewildered at the threshold. After thoughtfully scratching his head, he cautiously began to make his way to the sleeping person, stumbling and catching his feet on various debris along the way. Reaching the table, he knocked on it again, accompanying this with the phrases "Excuse me" and "I apologize."

"Ah...? Just five more minutes... Mmm..." Opening his eyes, the man reached out and touched Moriner's face with his palm, stroking it in a semi-conscious state. A few moments later, he came to his senses and tried to recognize the visitor, but couldn't make out his face. "Just a moment... Uh..." With difficulty, he found his glasses among the pile of junk, put them on, and finally managed to see the student.

"Oh, hello!" He jumped up from his seat and stood tall. He was probably even taller than Moriner's classmate, Ifeon. "You're that Leveristos, the student from the capital military academy, right?" The stranger extended his hand to Moriner. "Kihrei Yao, nice to meet you!"

Once again, in the last few minutes, the student was in a state of complete bewilderment, but he decided it would be impolite to show it.

— Oh, hello! — He jumped up and stood to his full height. He was probably taller than even Moriner's classmate, Ifeon. — You're Levesteros, a student from the capital's military academy, right? — The stranger extended his hand to Moriner. — Kikhrei Yao, nice to meet you!

Moriner, although slightly above average in height, felt a little out of place in the shadow of his older brother, and here he almost lost his ability to speak.
-Yes, Moriner Levesteros, nice to meet you. -the student replied to the handshake, noting to himself that despite the poor condition of his dwelling, the stranger easily remembered his surname without errors, which in itself was a rather rare event. -I arrived from the third class of the first year on the recommendation of Evriala Grace to undergo training in military journalism.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Kikhrei smiled broadly, swept the trash that had accumulated over the past few days from the chair with one hand movement, and invited the student to sit down. “Just a moment.” After that, the man spent some time preparing coffee, taking one cup for himself and handing the other to Moriner, after which he took a seat on the sofa opposite the student. “Want some?” He offered him a slice of pizza, rich in cheese and tomatoes, clearly not fresh. “Don’t worry, it’s cold now, it won’t spoil overnight.”

-Thank you very much. -Moriner politely accepted the mug. -I had a snack on the way, so I'm not very hungry right now. -He glanced at the expired sandwich and politely declined.

Latro sighed heavily. The failure of the second amplifier plunged him into despondency. And yet, the concept was so good... The nascent self-confidence was replaced by extreme gloom. He immediately remembered the results of both IQ tests. He consoled himself with the fact that he had forgotten to sign the first test, and in the second, his pencil lead ran out prematurely. He sincerely knew this in the depths of his soul and hoped very much for it... But suddenly, a heavy realization came over him - the most cheerful people in the city, to whom he also attributed himself, received the worst scores, and the most gloomy ones - the opposite. An obvious and very sad conclusion suggested itself: a lighthearted attitude directly correlates with stupidity.
And if you think about it, it's quite obvious - a smart person is perfectly aware of how heavy the very act of existence is. Sighing heavily, Latro dejectedly began working on "Mrak," which, according to his idea, was supposed to stimulate brain activity.

“Well, judge for yourself,” Kikhrei said without hesitation, taking a large bite of pizza and washing it down with coffee. “So, basically, I’ll be teaching you, ha-ha.” The journalist laughed, looking around his living space. “Let’s start with a couple of simple questions. I read your report for the last history test; is that your genuine opinion on the given topic?”

Moriner almost choked on his coffee from such an unexpected question, barely managing to suppress the surge of coughing. Instead, the liquid passed down his throat with a kind of sepulchral creak, burning his stomach, which had cooled during the journey, with unfamiliar warmth.
On the one hand, for his work to be of any use, the student had to be sincere with his teacher; on the other hand, he instinctively feared such friendly people. First, they greet you with a joyful smile, and then they use the same hand to send you to the firing squad.
-Hmm... in that work, I maximized the visible positive aspects of the relevant reforms, but I did not deem it necessary to pay sufficient attention to the analysis of possible negative factors, if any exist. In my personal opinion, any issue should be studied equally, but such an approach is rarely appreciated.

“Yes, yes,” Kikhrei nodded approvingly several times and made some notes in a notebook that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, “next: what does the profession of a journalist mean to you, and how do you see yourself in it?”

"What is this 'working interview' about?" -Well, I haven't had much of an opportunity to properly familiarize myself with the basics of this profession, but first and foremost, for me, a journalist is a person who ensures the acquisition and dissemination of accurate and verified information to those who want or are interested, in the most effective and competent way. Moriner took a few sips from his mug. -As for my role, it seems that I will be directly involved in collecting and organizing this information in military conditions. Of course, I would like to avoid getting a bullet in the head somewhere along the way, and ideally, I would like important figures of the current generations and historians of the future to be able to read my reports with interest...