The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Two days later, the black carriage arrived.

It bore no insignia and had no visible escort. The horses drawing it remained untouched by the dust of the road, despite having crossed half the Empire.

At the time, Thorvin was on the eastern wall, overseeing the installation of the new projectiles, his voice carrying across the fortress as he berated some unfortunate engineer. Karius, meanwhile, was inside his office, buried up to his elbows in supply reports, rearmament lists, and fresh intelligence from his spies when—

Knock... knock.

”Sir.” Antonius was strikingly pale as he spoke. ”A visitor from the capital—from the high command of the capital’s City Guard.” He swallowed. ”He is asking to see you by name... and alone.”

Karius’s pen stopped above the papers for half a second.

”Send him in,” he said calmly before finishing his signature.

A man in the later years of middle age entered. His gray hair had been cut with military severity, and a light beard covered his jaw. Over his formal uniform, which bore no medals, he wore a striking gray traveling coat—men of his standing had no need for gleaming pieces of metal. His eyes belonged to a man who had spent a lifetime carrying letters that changed the lives of those who received them.

”Edwin Hart,” he introduced himself, placing the signet ring of the City Guard Command upon the table. ”Second Deputy to the Gray General in the capital.”

Then he placed a small gray stone beside the ring.

A single pulse spread from it, carrying the unmistakable fluctuations of the Space element...

And every sound from the fortress died beyond the office walls.

It was a silence stone—the kind of barrier that could not be breached without those inside immediately knowing.

’So this is not an inspection tour.’ Karius’s back straightened of its own accord.

’The third-highest-ranking man in the Gray Guard... does not cross half the Empire to count sacks of flour in a remote eastern border fortress.’

The implication was self-evident to Karius, as it would have been to anyone in his position.

”Please, have a seat, Deputy. The road from the capital is long,” Karius said with a polite smile, gesturing toward the chair before him.

”The road from the capital,” Hart said as he slowly sat down, ”has grown longer than it was eight nights ago, as you know well.”

He raised his eyes and weighed Karius with a single glance, like a man appraising an ingot.

”The report reached you, then.”

’Eight nights already, since the catastrophe?’ Karius reflected, before returning his gaze to Edwin Hart.

”It reached us. The fortress has also prepared a complete statement regarding the fugitive who crossed through our sector—”

”I know,” Hart interrupted with a strange gentleness. ”I read its draft before it was sent.”

Karius allowed the sentence—and everything it implied—to settle into his mind.

And then Hart drew a letter from his coat.

Heavy paper. A seal of black wax... bearing no insignia.

Seals without insignia—especially black ones—were themselves the emblems of things that could never be granted one.

Karius did not reach for the letter.

”I believe you have the wrong man,” he said with all the composure his years in the military had taught him. ”I am the commander of a border company, Deputy. Letters bearing black seals are delivered to men far above me.”

Edwin studied him for a long moment.

There was something in his eyes that Karius had not expected. Not accusation or suspicion... But something closer to courteous pity.

”If we had the wrong man, Commander Dmitri,” he said quietly, ”you would not understand the meaning of what I am about to tell you.”

Silence settled over the office.

”The Empire needs to put a question to the Taboo of Truth.”

The words left their mark upon the silent room like a stone dropped into a well.

”And as an Agent, you must know that one does not knock upon the doors of the Taboos with fists, armies, or imperial decrees... but through those who possess the smaller keys.” He leaned forward slightly.

”Whatever happened cannot be overlooked. An Ambassador—one of the most promising talents in the Empire—vanished without a trace, and no one knows what manner of madness he confronted for it to draw down a Taboo’s Descent. The casualty figures are enormous—far too enormous for the matter to remain contained within the Empire.”

Hart tapped the letter with one finger.

”As for what the newspapers consider the principal cause of it all, they have already given it a name of its own...” He paused. ”The Insane Soul.”

Hart saw the muscle in Karius’s jaw twitch and calmly raised one hand, like a man soothing a noble horse.

”No one is accusing you or connecting you to what happened there. In truth, no one even understands what happened. Nor does anyone regard you as merely another Robert of lesser talent.”

He slowly shook his head.

”You are not an Ambassador, Dmitri. Ambassadors are blazing fires walking on two legs. But Agents...” He chose his words with the care of a wise man. ”Agents belong to another ring. Lower. Farther from the flame. Freer. Small hands resting upon the edges of very large things.”

Karius said nothing.

Silence, sometimes, is the best thing a man can do.

”In any case... the capital summons you.”

Hart rose and began fastening the buttons of his coat one by one, displaying no urgency whatsoever.

”In your official capacity first: a border company commander traveling to deliver his statement concerning a fugitive who crossed through his sector. That is the account your fortress will hear, along with your battalion commander and everyone else who asks.”

He paused beside the door, one hand upon its handle, then looked at Karius over his shoulder.

”As for your other capacity... it will not be written upon any document.”

Hart picked up the small gray stone and slipped it back inside his coat. Its pulse faded, releasing the office from its isolation.

He opened the door, and the fortress’s noise flooded back inside—the hammers, the shouted orders, and the ordinary lives of men who knew nothing.

”We depart at first light.”

He turned halfway around and gave Karius one final look—the look of a man dropping a word into a still lake while knowing exactly how far the resulting ripples would spread.

”You could have refused when the position was offered to you, you know...” Edwin said with a faded smile.

A smile that never reached his eyes.

”...Agent Karius.”

The door closed.

Karius Dmitri remained alone, accompanied only by the candle, the stacks of reports, and the noise of a fortress that believed it knew its commander well.

Upon the table, between the supply statements and the lists of the dead, lay a letter beneath a black seal bearing no insignia...

Waiting most impatiently to be opened.