Dr Doom in Star Wars

 The Middle Ring. Metallorn.

 752DBYA.

 14 years before the Mandalorian Purge.

 Eight hours later.

 Darth Doom.

 "So you really did train an outsider with the Force?" — With a slight sigh, mixed with fatigue, humility, and a range of similar emotions, the fish-headed Jedi addressed his apprentice.

 She, by the way, was sitting with her face buried in her knees, her palms pressed against them. The shame emanating from her was palpable. To put it more poetically, steam was literally coming out of her ears, although physiologically this is impossible even for a humanoid race such as the Zeltrons.

 "So that's how you Jedi are? We protect lives, but we don't let others do the same?" — I chimed in, adding mockery and contempt for the duality of the Guardians of Peace. And it wasn't as if these emotions and words were feigned... Half of me definitely wanted to hear the opinion on this matter not from the Sith or the untalented, but from an experienced and accomplished Jedi Master who didn't annoy me with his arrogant, snotty attitude.

 An appearance that was also partly responsible for the death of two self-confident knights.

 "Well, you too!" exclaimed Mon Calamari. "You're an adult! You should understand... That's not the point, not at all.

 "Then what is it?" — In the most natural manner possible for such a situation, I continued to extract the necessary information from the Jedi. The Sith in the current inner circle were not well versed in this, and my self-appointed teacher was also not, being overly preoccupied with his attempts to continue the Bane dynasty.

 "Such knowledge can lead you to the Dark Side. Without training and understanding..." — the Jedi shook his dome-shaped head, shifting his gaze from me to his student again.

 "What Dark Side could a simple movement of objects without hands lead to... Telekinesis, as your student said? I've heard of idiots who waste their lives running around junkyards in search of some great power... Someone's power." "I replied, continuing to play the part of a gifted individual who did not understand the Force, with the utmost contempt and disdain, a mixture that could easily drown even representatives of aquatic races. "But I dare to consider myself much more adequate..." "My search is not a chase, but a planned search operation in which I took into account all the details, all the information, and compared all the facts..."

 Not like the Sith and the Jedi did — they heard a rumour and ran like saigas across the galaxy with their tongues hanging out.

 "You are undoubtedly not like that... Since you rushed forward to save people despite the personal risks, even though you weren't paid for it as a mercenary..." — The Jedi nodded approvingly, once again proving the inertia of the local mindset, which believes that a reward must necessarily be material. At least for mercenaries... Who, coincidentally, think the same way. "But how can I explain this to the Jedi, who don't know you? To our... leaders, so to speak?"

 "Just take the reports of the journalists who swarmed like flies on shit." — I grimaced, this time showing genuine emotion. Despite the fact that they had been hired to do this, the anonymity of the job gave them a lot of leeway.

 They simply did not know who had paid them, probably one of the few bribes they had ever received in their lives on this planet. For the explosions I had arranged were almost the only thing that would happen here for another half a millennium, judging by the previous history of Metalorn.

 That's why they surrounded me completely.

 But if they dare to screw up such a simple task, I will personally strangle them all. For the Strangulation of Power begs to be used on incompetent idiots, it begs for it. I don't even know where this fierce desire to end the lives of fools in this way comes from, rather than as before — through trials.

 "Ahem... Not a bad idea. Which, of course, you had nothing to do with." — The fish-headed man gave me a sly look, proving that his head wasn't just big.

 "I won't deny that the newsmen's activities will have a positive effect on my reputation... But..." — I grimaced, not liking these dung flies even when I was alive on Earth. "Sometimes I think the Galaxy would be better off without them." — I expressed my sincere opinion, without lying in the slightest. There will be positive results, and I really believe what I think.

 "Well... I understand. Sometimes their desire to get to the Jedi and find out the news can only be restrained by the telekinesis that Himeko taught you." — Voonas Kapilar shared his revelation, not forgetting to mention the misdemeanour of his student, who lowered her gaze again because of this.

 However, I managed to send her an encouraging look, further strengthening our relationship. Then I'll have to arrange a few, ahem, chance encounters. During which I will appear before her again and again in a favourable light... Besides, I managed to assess the potential of this Gifted One. And it is higher than that of ten Jedi Knights like that couple and that Jedi Master.

 The Force has once again decided to play into the hands of her powerful user, who will become her absolute ruler in the future, and has sent me the perfect tool. Malleable, but incredibly strong in the future.

 "Then shall we conclude?" — I suggested, pretending to scratch my chin reflexively with my hand. A steel chin and a hand of steel, yes. "It seems that after reviewing the data from my droids, there are no questions for that ill-fated..." "For whom, for whom." "The mission at the station of that gang of insolent worms, you have no questions about my actions."

 To be honest with myself, I'm pretty tired of this charade. I can suppress my self-esteem for a while, but only for a very limited time. After that, my irritation and anger will outweigh the need to recruit potential loyal servants, and I will decide everything on my own.

 Everything will be as it always has been in the past... Alone.

 "I wish..." — the mon-calamari grimaced. — But what has been started must always be finished. And I cannot let a half-baked apprentice go, I'm sorry, Mr. Doom, but you are the one, get out. At least reinforce what your apprentice has taught you and tell them about the dangers. That way, you won't bring trouble upon yourself and those around you, and if anything happens, you'll be better than ordinary people at understanding any threat from the Dark Side... I think..." — He paused for a couple of moments, almost making me laugh out loud. A Jedi teaching a Sith... My genius creates truly ironic situations! "I can introduce you as a freelance agent for the Seekers... Ahem... You'd better not know about that..." Most likely, he was referring to the Seekers of Darkness. Bane's Sith had encountered them after Ruusan, and they were very... difficult opponents for the Dark Side adepts. Although this fish-headed one doesn't look like one... Anyway, it's time for me to stop paying attention to the ridiculous appearance of my enemies. The heroes have clearly proven to me that even in their funny leotards with their underwear showing, they can... surprise.

 "What do I need to know?" I asked sarcastically, with the slight irritation inherent in any intelligent person in such a situation, when they are forbidden to learn something related to them.

 "Some important things about the Force, and why we are looking for all the artefacts of the Sith we destroyed on Rusan. And also why they must be kept in the Temple and not, for example, used for the benefit of intelligent beings." — Having piqued my interest in hearing the Jedi point of view, Mon Kalamari began.

 And his young apprentice is trying not to look suspicious as she listens to the conversation.

 However... The absurdity of the situation is striking! A Jedi is telling a Sith that the Dark Side is dangerous, ha ha ha! My intellect is truly great, since I was able to create such a magnificent situation that the Jedi ancestors are once again turning in their graves!* * *

 A few hours later.

 Darth Doom.

 This very fruitful conversation not only provided me with a wealth of information that will definitely come in handy during the further confrontation and race for the ancient legacy with those same Jedi, but also diverted the suspicions of those same Jedi away from my public persona.

 I have literally infiltrated their system for searching for various artefacts, and now I can operate from within.

 It's a brilliant plan, worthy of my best schemes and, at the same time, the style of the Sith of Bane. I can talk all I want about how insignificant they are compared to the true interstellar empires of their predecessors, who brought the Galactic Republic to its knees, but the secretive style of the current ones was quite good. According to my rough estimates, in about five hundred years, they will be able to rule the galaxy with ease.

 Why not?

 Darth Zanna was calmly wandering around the Jedi Temple, so why couldn't the Sith become, for example, the Chancellors of the Republic? Organise some kind of war, blame all the problems on the Jedi, and then destroy them with the hands of the Republic. Justify it with the theoretical absence of supervision and the senators' easier access to their corrupt schemes.

 I myself have thought something like this through, thanks to my intellect allowing me to work out all the small details... But alas, it all comes down to the executors. They are not as smart as I am, and the implementation process would take at least a century. Let's say I can live with that and endure it... But my mother, wherever she is and whatever body her soul now rests in — no. Mephisto promised in the contract that she would be a healthy person... But who knows what could happen? In the best case scenario, I have a few decades left.

 There are limits to what Mephisto has provided for my mother in her new life. Otherwise, like any capitalist demon from the underworld, it would simply not be profitable for him to sign a contract with me to restore the glory of the Sith.

 So I'll take a simpler approach. Fortunately, having lost its fleet and armed forces, the Republic won't be able to rebuild them at the snap of a finger... And then... And then there will be no opportunity to do so.

 It's a pity, of course, that I can't just snap my fingers and take over the Quat Shipyards... They would be a wonderful tool for conquest with their capabilities, but... They would notice. Even with the Force. There are too many interests and, more importantly, too much money involved.

 Where there's money, there's politics. Where there's politics, there's the Senate. Where there's the Senate, there are Jedi.

 And they are too strong now for me to ignore them. These are not heroes who are pure and cannot touch the ruler of a sovereign state; the Jedi don't give a damn about such things. They would openly go and kill everyone in the Order.

 "... Lord Dohm, Lord Dohm!" — A girl's voice rang out, pulling me out of my thoughts and slightly angering me. I was about to respond in a very harsh manner, but... Not to her.

 I need the daughter of the senator and heiress to the influential Metalorna family.

 "Lilian." — I greeted the owner of the large green eyes, which surely conquered the hearts of more sentimental minds, with a short nod. "Escaped from your father's guards, I presume?"

 "Of course!" she exclaimed, turning sharply and sticking her tongue out at the two guards, who rolled their eyes and grumbled in their own language. "They're boring! But you're not... By the way... You're the one who... You know... You were talking to those... Jedi..."

 "So that's why you're interested... I thought you'd come to visit your saviour..." — The little girl reminded me of Petra as a child. She also took advantage of her father's influence and allowed herself things that even presidents weren't allowed to do.

 From an early age, she understands how to use connections. That's good. She'll make a good politician, just what I need.

 "No, of course not!" — The girl immediately blushed, her ears turning scarlet. Not to mention the Force, which instantly revealed Lillian's emotional state to me. — Just... The same Jedi, you know... They died... — she muttered uncertainly. " — Defending some slaves..." — With her snort, the senator's daughter clearly expressed her opinion of those intelligent beings, and it was the right opinion. For me. I don't want an idealist around me. " — And here they are, kind of... Alive...

 "So that's what you mean." "No, these are different Jedi. Stronger ones... By the way, one of them, a student, is a little older than you..." — Seeing the young girl's eyes light up, I grinned.

 It was time to tie up loose ends. At best, they would become part of my inner circle, helping me carry out my plans. They would be loyal executors whom I could always rely on, even if my plans went awry.

 "...but..." — the girl caught my attention again. " — Will we see each other again, Mr. Doom?

 "Hmm... I don't know..." — I said deliberately, with a hint of doubt.

 "For that, something is needed... Right?" — showing the insight and foresight also necessary for a politician, this very interesting girl.

 "You guessed right... You'll have to follow in your father's footsteps. Perhaps his work seems boring to you now..." — I shrugged, seeing understanding in her darker green eyes, whose colour helped me better accept this forced conversation. "But believe me, it's much more exciting... And as a powerful and influential woman, you'll be able to keep a humble mercenary like me by your side..."

 "I see..." — Her gaze and her face took on a serious, thoughtful expression. " — I understand, in general... All right! It's a deal, iron knight!

 "Agreed, young princess." — I nodded, causing the girl to burst into uncontrollable delight... Children need so little to be happy... And to develop loyalty to a particular person.

 For me.

 That's why I'm already dealing with my third little one.

 Women and children are the easiest to influence, and the easiest to bind to oneself.

 But you can't create an imbalance either. They will need to find men to bind them to as family. Children. And other such eternal values...

 Now it's time to get down to some other business. I have finally hacked into all the systems of the Metalorna government, and the senator's in particular, and by comparing them with the data I have from Sith agents in this galaxy, I can now confidently proceed with the capture of the home world of my current body.

 After all, I haven't just been working on my reputation all this time. That would be foolish, petty, and completely insignificant for a man of my intellect.

 I have created enough problems for the principality with the help of the Sith networks.

 So... It's time to quietly activate the prototype cells of the rebellion that I quietly began to create with the help of others even before the death of Darth Varborus, and further radicalise them with bloody, but not particularly effective, raids by supporters of the current Prince. Then they will make the only decision that is right for me, provoked by the current Hyperborea authorities.

 That is, they will finally decide to find and accept a leader who is sufficiently skilled in military and martial affairs to unite their scattered cells and lead them into battle. A quick and bloodless assault will follow, resulting in a worldwide revolution. The events in Metalorn, neighbouring Hyperborea, have earned me enough reputation as both a rational being and a mercenary to speed up the takeover by several months, even years, so there is no need to delay any further.

 There is not much left before my triumphant return.

 At the same time.

 On board his ship.

 Master Jedi Voonas Kapilar.

 "...thank you for quickly resolving the situation on Metalorn. You acted swiftly and decisively. The Council is pleased with your actions, including... the investigation into the circumstances surrounding the death of the Jedi Knights." — said an elderly woman seated in the half-empty holographic Council Chamber.

 Alas, the other Jedi Masters were busy travelling to a former Sith world where, according to scouts, a powerful Dark Side cult had been discovered, which could not be dealt with without the involvement of the Order's strongest members.

 "Glad to help," the Jedi Master nodded with his large head.

 "We'll call you if we need you." — echoed the incredibly tired Grand Master Evliana Shan, disconnecting.

 She had already set aside a full twenty minutes of her busy schedule to listen to the mon-kalamari's report, so Voonas was not at all angry at her taciturnity. Moreover, the main report would not go to the Order Council and its Grand Master, although the latter could familiarise herself with it, but to a slightly different place... A unit of Jedi shadows formed after Rusan, some of whom were officially part of the openly existing Dark Seekers for the coordination and control of those who, without hiding, sought the legacy of the Sith.

 And if they find something too dangerous for the Seekers, the Jedi Shadows step in.

 Kapilar was not one of them, but he was one of the few who knew about the Shadows at all.

 "Master Jedi Voonas Kapilar." — said the emotionless voice of the Shadow liaison. Mon-Kalami did not know his name, appearance, gender, race... He did not even know what his position was in the Order, or whether he was officially a member... Was he trained according to general principles, or did the Shadows have their own methods of recruiting gifted young people?

 "He's the one." — the native of Daka muttered. — I would like to report some changes.

 "I'm listening carefully, Seeker of Darkness." — The speaker's voice didn't change a bit, and the mon-calamari began to describe the moment connected with his new friend, or whoever he was, his own student.

 He had to present everything in such a way as to not lie, but also omit certain details, such as the fact that the decision had been made impulsively and under the influence of the situation. He had to reveal a few things a little earlier than planned, related to possible Sith artefacts in that part of the Galaxy where the droid-loving mercenary was, but... What wouldn't you do for a student?

 "...that is why I agree with my student's decision to create a freelance agent. A gifted, albeit minimally trained, individual will find it more difficult to fall into the clutches of the Dark Side, and much easier to detect its pernicious influence than any of our untalented scouts." — After finishing a rather long speech full of facts and examples, the mon-calamari blinked his large eyelids and stared at the faceless hologram.

 "You know me. I don't make such decisions, and I can't predict the reaction of those below... However, one way or another, you are not a Shadow. You have the right to such disapproved acts of will... However... This is still much better than the impulsive decisions of ordinary Jedi." The Jedi Shadow fell silent for a moment, apparently considering his next words: "So you have my approval, Seeker of Darkness. That is all."

 Looking at his disconnected interlocutor, the Mon Calamari allowed himself a heavy sigh. On the one hand, he had done wrong by covering for his student... But the Mon Calamari would never have forgiven himself if he had acted like the lowest of the low Neimoidians — that is, run off and report her instead... For praise. Money doesn't grow on trees in the Order.

 What's the point if the Temple provides for you?

 Besides, it's unlikely that anything bad will come of it. Surely this can't be someone's cunning plan, which is part of a much larger plan?

 It can't be. It's just an impulsive act by his young and impressionable apprentice, who is also a zeltronka.

 Everything else is just paranoia. He's gotten too caught up in the Dark Seekers... Maybe it's time to give up this pursuit and focus on training his Padawan?

 Sitting down in a meditation pose, Voonas Kapilar began... to meditate and seek answers in the Great Force.

 Middle Ring. The small principality of Hyperbernia.

 752 DBY.

 14 years before the Mandalorian Purge.

 Several months later.

 In recent months, the situation in Hyperbernia had been steadily deteriorating.

 There were no serious crises or excesses on the part of the authorities... But it was clear to anyone with a brain that there was a rapid and comprehensive deterioration in the standard of living.

 Whatever the government of a world of sixty million people, inhabited mainly by humans and similar races, might say, anyone who wasn't an idiot could see that nothing was being done to improve life. The prince could talk for days on end about how, for some reason, his principality was being economically strangled, but no sane, reasonable person would believe such nonsense.

 Who even needed their shabby little planet, of which there were dozens in the Middle Ring and hundreds in the Outer Ring? Certainly not the gentlemen who could so quietly and unnoticeably oppress the world.

 And the feasting elites, as usual, proved the truth of the position of the masses.

 In normal times, this would not have bothered anyone; after all, it was the familiar truth of life, and it was too counterproductive to rebel against it for the non-affluent population of Hyperbernia. Colonised for too long, the world was fertile enough to feed its growing population, but it could not afford any luxuries.

 However, the mood of the ordinary people was fuelled by periodic government raids, which never ended well.

 Perhaps without them, people would have grumbled quietly... But when your neighbour, with whom you have lived in the capital all your life, is suddenly killed by the Prince's hastily assembled thugs and mercenaries... And they declare that he was a rebel, you can't help but wonder — will you be next? Fear was certainly present, as was the desire not to rock the boat...

 But the fear for their families, of whom there were many on the planet, outweighed the fear of death.

 Besides, those who wanted to get back at the prince's minions for their friend or neighbour didn't need to come up with anything themselves, because that's often what stopped the avengers... There were already enough cells that just needed the cooperation of the local population and a little sponsorship. A little came from everywhere, but it cannot be said that the ruler of the planet also possessed great power, rightly fearing large popular uprisings.

 But even his current thugs were stupid and obedient enough to wipe out the rebels and the intelligent ones if they discovered any connections between them. This sometimes affected the former as well, since they were essentially the same former civilians, but it did not solve the main reason for the rebels' appearance.

 After all, they had nowhere else to go, just like their sympathisers. Either they could go and die in the countless factories of Metalorna, or they could flee as far away as possible from their sector... And who knows what would happen there? All intelligent people fear the unknown, and so it is easier for them to fight the law enforcement officers they know than to flee to the ends of the earth.

 Such reasonable people gathered in one of the secret apartments on the outskirts of the capital:

 "Prince, counts... They have again decided to increase the number of their butchers, because of whom we have lost so many family members... Friends... Comrades!" — said a stocky middle-aged man who, despite his unremarkable height, inspired emotion in all directions. "We must act as quickly as possible! The longer we delay, the more they will mobilise their forces and mercenaries, and once they have destroyed us, they will finally crush the resistance! And then all Hyperbernians will live in poverty, just like on many other planets that no one needs, like ours! But we are not like that! We have an ancient heritage! Hyperbernia stood even during the ancient wars of the Jedi and the Sith!

 "...Certainly, expressive and inspiring... But we are not addressing the new recruits of our Resistance, Alius..." — replied a man who was quite tall compared to the previous speaker. "We need more constructive suggestions for the current situation.

 "You're too calm for someone whose daughter was shot by these scumbags, Brenti... For colluding with vicious murderers and maniacs, ha!" — the man named Alius threw his hands up.

 "Shut up." — said Brenti, louder and more viciously. "I remember everything perfectly well... And I will fight the bastards of our all-good prince even if you decide to stop doing so..."

 "No way!" Alius exclaimed indignantly, shaking his massive fists. "I'd rather die than abandon my beloved Hyperborea!"

 "Gentlemen..." — A dark-skinned woman dressed in very simple clothes drew attention to herself. "This is all undoubtedly important, including the arguments about the degree of your anger towards our common enemies... But let's move on to something more constructive... The cell of Vazzo, who is no less worthy than the three of us standing here, has been almost completely destroyed. If before our comrades could mostly leave, now... The gap in strength is terrifying. There are almost no military personnel among us, and there is almost no one to train our people. They are all on the prince's payroll, and it seems that they are the only ones he pays on time, since they have not yet fled or switched to another force — us.

 "Your legal education has served you well, Terra..." — Brenti nodded with satisfaction, looking at their comrade and de facto leader.

 For she was the only one who had any kind of education that was useful for this.

 "I was kicked out of there by the prince's people when it all started... This." — she grimaced. "And it's not like the education there was particularly great... Some son of either a baron or Count Ersebet, I think, took my place, and when I refused to be one of his whores in order to continue my studies..."

 "Yes, yes, Terra, we know your story..." — Alius grumbled, not very pleased. — But you yourself suggested we move on to con-struc-tiv-i-ty. Go!" — The fat man barely managed to pronounce the long word.

 "And according to it... We need help. I think we should admit it. The prince has numerous connections through which he sells our planet's resources and what our workers produce in factories for next to nothing... And we have a couple of smugglers among our acquaintances, and that's it. It's not funny." Terra slashed the air with her hand, leaning on the table where they were standing.

 A hologram of the capital was visible there, along with patrol movements and priority targets for sabotage or assault with the capture of important aristocrats. Sometimes such exchanges saved entire cells of captured rebels, whom the aristocrats considered less valuable than members of their own families — which is why they forced the Prince to give in, pressured by his own elite, who, it would seem, should have been helping him destroy their enemies. This was also one of the reasons why their uprising, supported by only tens of thousands of active members, had not yet been crushed in the face of nearly a hundred thousand law enforcement officers across the planet.

 "Whose help? We can handle it ourselves..." — muttered the stocky Alius, but Terra and Brenti quickly detected in his voice a lack of fundamental disagreement with the woman's plan.

 "We can't do it, Alius. I understand you, but... We need someone from outside. Someone the Prince won't think of..." — the lanky Brenti began to persuade his Resistance comrade in a convincing tone. "Someone with enough military power to help us.

 "How are we going to pay them?" Terra asked eagerly, even though she knew about the plan to bring in outside forces but didn't know the details.

 After all, it was Brenti himself who had been lobbying for this, clearly having access to some kind of contact.

 But since there's no such thing as a free lunch, the well-educated woman had no intention of selling herself to a mysterious benefactor who occasionally threw them a bone.

 "I have a friend with a rather ambitious goal," Brenti admitted without beating around the bush. This immediately restored the trust of his comrades, who had momentarily believed that he had sold out. "He wants to become the ruler of our Hyperborea. In exchange for substantial assistance."

 "So you want us to replace the aristocrats, and he wants to replace the Prince?" — the woman twisted her lips into an ironic smile.

 "No." — The tall man shook his head, rewarding his comrade with an indignant look. "Unlike our disfigured ruler Valapar X, like all these aristocrats, he is a mercenary, as you have already guessed. And with a fairly good reputation, as I understand it. When he approached me through his droid, I immediately scanned the Holonet, because I'm no fool..." — He looked reproachfully at his embarrassed comrades, who were nevertheless listening intently to their friend. "And I learned enough about him... Wait, I'll send it to everyone's datapads right now..."

 For a moment, complete silence fell over the room.

 The three remaining leaders of the Hyperborea Resistance carefully examined the data they had received, and even the one who had provided it went over it again, shaking his head at the new developments on Metalorn. He had known for a long time about the desire of his de facto patron, who had promised to give him the killers of his daughter, to become the ruler of the planet... But only recently, when he learned from the news that a simple mercenary, who seemed to care only about money, had joined forces with a Jedi to rescue intelligent beings from houses burning after terrorist attacks...

 Then Brenti finally understood that this was the intelligent being they needed.

 Besides, without his powerful combat droids, which had proven themselves in this galaxy over the past few months, they would never be able to defeat the palace guards.

 In fact, the throne would be his trophy anyway, and the resistance leaders, who would also be in the new government according to him, would not allow him to oppress the people.

 It was a very good deal.

 And the man could already see that his comrades' hesitation was more feigned than real. Soon he would be able to convince them completely and get the killers of his daughter. His dearest daughter. His precious daughter. His Lima.

 Just as his new master, Mr. Doom, had promised. He promised that even if the people who ordered that ill-fated raid — and, as a result, the murder of the daughter of a once-successful businessman — were influential members of the current government, they would still be handed over to him, Brentan Tavaro, to be torn to pieces.

 ...And judging by what his contacts in the criminal world, i.e. smugglers, say, Mr. Doom, as a mercenary, has never betrayed the interests of his employers, even for a higher price.

 If he refrained from extremely lucrative betrayal even of simple businessmen, he will certainly not betray his assistant in the camp of the current resistance and future government. Nor will he betray the planet as a whole, which will belong to him.

 Besides... Mr. Doom would not be the first mercenary king in the Galaxy. So this is a natural and logical process...

 "Well... We are ready to talk to this Victor von Doom of yours. Brenti, you can arrange a private meeting, can't you?" — interrupting the thoughts of the father who had lost his daughter, the strong-willed Terra spoke to him.

 He hoped she would not contradict Doom too strongly. He also had a strong temper, and he did not want them to clash. After all, they could both help his Hyperbernia, which his daughter had refused to abandon, and for which she had died at the hands of the Prince's executioners.

 "Of course." — Nodding to the dark-skinned man and their fat henchman, Brentan closed his eyes in agreement. "But we must act quickly, or we may lose our chance... You know what I mean, that's why we're here... Risking our lives. But I've strayed from the subject, just like Alius..."

 "Pff!" — The man mentioned snorted discontentedly, but continued to listen nonetheless.

 "Yes, yes, sorry. So, about the meeting with our probable ruler..."

***

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