Chapter 633 – Bookkeeping
As of today, there were two different arson attacks and three train de-railings that have occurred within the Empire in the span of a week. Yesterday, where it not for the good fortune that some children decided to go on an adventurer, we would have been looking at an imminent bridge collapse over the Cannes. By the time the police arrived, the bottom of the pillars had been scorched black.
The Empire is not a circus, a single derailment is cause for disaster and a full investigation. Three in the span of a week? It can only be the work of sabotage. In all three places, the rails had been merely twisted and bent by heat enough as to not disrupt the electrical currents running through them, yet weakened to the extent that the weight of a train would snap them. Most likely, with how often our rails are used, they were still warm. The arson attacks were quickly stopped and damage was contained, both were on warehouses of general consumer goods. They are negligible to mention, save for the fact that the cause is obviously is put strain on our civilian population. The bridge attack is more urgent.
I am informing the Central Strategic Council that the succubi currently being tolerated within our lands are going to be disposed of. The locations of general warehouses are not publicized, but they are publicly accessible. Likewise, the fact that they knew not to trip the currents in the rails suggests that Tartarus is learning about our technical capabilities. It takes little more than precisely five minutes on the internet to learn of basic railroad organisation. As of now, we can work under the assumption that Tartarus knows of logistic chains and supply lines.
Thus, I can only declare that the Empire is in a state of crisis and invasion from within itself. The SIS, as it currently stands, lacks the heavy equipment to deal with such a threat. I will not mince words, I am requesting a militarization of the SIS, from armoured cars to long-rifles. Likewise, I forward that the general university population, along with any seeking public employment, need to submit to the basic inhuman cell tests. All members of government and all military personnel in any position of authority, should have the frequency of these tests raised from bi-monthly to weekly. Likewise, their families, servants & maids, should any be employed, should no longer be made exempt.
I have little more to report, save for the fact that I am expanding the SIS-Rancais Office to include twenty thousand members. As always, I ever-so-humbly request that my sweet sister, Kassandora, grace me with her generosity and share some of her troops.
Finally, I have finished my own review of the recent Imperial conflicts, in Kirinyaa and in Epa.
- Goddess Malam’s, of Hatred's, most recent letter to the Central Strategy Council.
Kassandora, I now write with full sincerity: The cities are not walled anymore and they are a hundred times the size. We are not in the age of swords anymore, gone is the time when every other adult kept a blade in their home. We either start the distribution of guns to the populace, we expand the local police forces to become military garrisons. Or we are waiting for a massacre that I sense will come sooner rather than later.
- Goddess Malam’s, of Hatred's, note to her sister.
Helenna sighed and leaned back in her chair as she spun around to readjust her eyes to the outside. The sky was blue in Doschia still, but not as blue as it should be. A hot-air balloon was making its way across the fields in the distance, the mountains that separated here Doschia from Rilia behind it. Malam had needed to come here, Helenna had brought her work with her. This travelling court suited her frankly. Every few days, they would have a change of scenery, new chairs to sit in, a new bed to sleep on. New drinks to try, that was an important one. Helenna’s hair regained some of its golden colour and she spun back around to the desk. Her locks went grey immediately. On her right, a small laptop-computer that was much needed in this day and age, on her left…
On her left was the physical incarnation of demise and misery and boredom and everything else that could be construed as mental torture: The Goddess of Love looked down upon the next set of research grants that had landed upon her desk this morning. Internal Affairs had a morality committee, although that morality committee had been downsized since the start of the war. An entire office was now being managed by supposedly a team a dozen large, the rest had been sent off for more pressing issues. For all the reputation the Empire had, with its countless Bureaus, split into even more departments and committees each, once the SIS was removed, the average dropped down to less than fifty people per office. Those that weren’t crucial for the war were being cut as well.
Well, Helenna wouldn’t run it that way, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t work. Internal Affairs would send something to her room when it was falling behind. Helenna looked at the twenty-seventh proposal today: The value of Imperial Arts within the public space. She flipped open the first page: University of Zawitz. She skimmed the abstract: Statue, morale, survey, opinions.
For the twenty-fifth time today, something landed in the bin. The value of Imperial Arts within the public space? Why even ask such a stupid question? It was akin to asking why castles were imposing and why towers were tall. They were, because they were. Unfortunately, that team would have to try again when they were in a time of peace. Helenna’s hair turned a dull grey as she sat in her room, four hours, and the stack had barely shrunk. They had dumped some thousand grant requests on her. This had to go faster. Next paper: Survey amongst Divinity on their opinions of local cuisines... Bin. Immediately. That one, Helenna did not even to see the title for. If the school itself wasn’t going to fund it, then the government certainly would not.
Next paper: The effect of the Daughter-Goddesses on community cohesion. Anything that related to the Imperial Princesses deserved a look at least. Helenna’s hair went to a jealous red as she flipped open the first page. University of Camford. Her mouth twisted, ten surveys in, she had realised how Camford operated. Apparently they simply inundated Internal Affairs with a shotgun blast of grants, hoping at least a single pellet would strike. Her hair went grey, then greyer when she saw the first line of the abstract: We propose that a Daughter-Goddess give a speech and… And they were in a state of war, and if Helenna let this get through, she would never hear the end of it from Malam, and Kassandora would probably come and give her a scolding for wasting her time. Besides, what sort of question was that? What effect did the Princesses have? They had a great one. Problem solved.
Next paper. Twenty-Nine: Soil restoration in irradiated terrain. Helenna stared at it for a moment. She opened the first page. From Hallin Agricultural School. Helenna blinked. Since when did Hallin even have an agricultural school. Her eyes went to the abstract: Whereas testing has already been started, we request an additional grant due to the incurred costs of transportation to and from the closest Clerical Residence. She skimmed further… Well, apparently, it wasn’t just mismanagement, they had some agreement with the Doschian Institute of Nuclear Physics and testing was being done far from the cities to avoid any accidental poisoning. They just hadn’t predicted the costs well. And it was from the Hallin Agricultural School. Helenna turned to her computer and searched it up: two hundreds students in total. Well, that explained why she had never heard of it.
That went on the approved pile. Three in twenty-nine, what a ratio. She opened the next document. Camford again, then flipped back to the front cover after realising she had skipped the page: Art-Bin immediately. Helenna stared at the pile of papers still on her desk, then looked down to the floor. Next one: Studying Sorcerer Integration into mundane society. Helenna’s hair lost any sort of youthful colour it had gained from approving a survey. This one went straight into the bin. Anassa didn’t have the time, nor did she allow Sorcery to be studied without her supervision.
Next: Military Theory in the Post War: What to do with so many veterans? Helenna blinked at the piece of paper. She opened it: University of Kaczaw. The read the abstract: Funding for the goal of travel and hotels. We have already started interviews with soldiers returning from the Second Expedition in Kaczaw and wish to expand our conversations to those from other Epan nations… Helenna read the entire first page, half the second. They were seeing how well those who had experienced demons were re-integrating into society. What sort of problems were being faced, it seemed to be a dismal affair. Nightmares were common, even from their small section, they had found obvious signs of decline in the mind. Likewise, they were investigating what the soldiers were doing to move on in life. Helenna stared at the piece of paper. It was expensive though.
And Helenna stared and Helenna thought. She moved it towards the bin, Arascus would think of a plan to deal with this issue after the war ended. He always did… And if he didn’t? Helenna moved it to the approval pile. But then it wasn’t directly related to the war effort, if they didn’t win in the first place, this was a non-issue. But they would win. But then she would be tasked with the help… She would be tasked with the help. That settled it. Helenna noted UoK in her memory and moved it to the approved pile, leaving a little note on the piece of paper that it was important. Fourth one.
Malam saved Helenna from the next document. She barged through the door like a battering ram crashing open the gates to an enemy castle. She had been meeting the Doschian Office of the SIS. Why they were called Offices instead of Departments, Helenna didn’t know but she supposed that Malam had to be different, didn’t she? The full SIS was worn too, cap, coat, the oversized pistol made for Malam’s hand on her hip. A set on knives on the other side. The belt with the skull emblem. “What are you doing?” Malam asked.
“What does it look like?” Helenna extended her arms to the table. Was the woman sober? Of Love’s hair went black, it was serious then.
Malam closed the distance and looked down at the table for a moment, her snow-white hair framing a pale face and eyes entirely black. The entire colour was monochrome. “I’ve lost two full teams in Arseille.” Malam’s tone was deathly serious. “Twenty four men are dead presumably. The police chief has lost detectives and officers too but I don’t know how many, just a sizable amount.”
Twenty four men was less than a military platoon. Helenna just stared dryly at Malam. Wasn’t the SIS the second largest single institution in the Empire after the military itself at this point? But then that wasn’t fair. Internal Affairs was larger, it was just broken up into a thousand different pieces. Still though, less than a single platoon of men, did news like that even make it up to a captain? It certainly wouldn’t to a general unless someone was showing off how little casualties were taken. Helenna stared up at Malam’s face. From what it looked like, the standard applied to the army couldn’t be applied to the Special Imperial Service. “Is that bad?”
“That is every single agent I had in Arseille.” Malam said. “Something is picking my men off.”
Helenna sighed. That was the last thing they needed, wasn’t it? A war in the home-front? “Do you think it’s ours or theirs?”
“I don’t know.” Malam said. “First team disappeared outside of the city. The second team sent a recon unit to follow up, they didn’t answer. Then six of them were found dead. Someone talked or spilled or I’m getting spied on.” Helenna sighed and leaned back.
“Well it can’t be here.”
“No, I would be losing men everywhere, the threat is contained to Arseille for the time being.” Helenna caught on.
“So we’re going.” It wasn’t a question at this point.
“We’re going.” Malam said.
“And if it’s big?”
“That’s why we’re going.” Malam said. “Arseille holds the Western Eparika Fleet. I’ve sent word to go on high-alert already. Succubi protocol has already been activated apparently, when some woman tried to sneak on.”
“Did they catch her?”
“She ran away.” Malam said with disgust and rolled her eyes. “The army doesn’t do executions like that.” No, of course they didn’t. Disappearances were the SIS’s job. Helenna pushed away from the desk, her chair rolled back until her chair hit against the wall.
“Arascus?”
“I’ve told him already.” Malam said. “But he’s gone to check up on Olonia and then the Raptors again, then he’ll be back here.” Helenna’s hair went grey, she leaned back in her chair.
“So it’s us?”
“It’s us.” Malam said.
“No support?”
“Do we need it?” Helenna pursed her lips. Well… Did she need it? Kavaa would probably defeat her in a fight. But even Kavaa wouldn’t really be the sort of support she had been considering. An Anassa, an Irinika, even Maisara or Fortia. Even Iniri would be fine.
“What about Elassa?” Helenna asked.
“I’ve not asked her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like her.” Of course she didn’t. Of course that was reason enough. Malam rolled her eyes. “And she’s busy anyway, I don’t know how you did it in the Pantheon, here, I do investigations myself.”
“I did them myself too.” Helenna said, her eyes went to the document. “I’ll go if you help me with these.”
“On the train then.” Malam said as she turned and walked to the door. “I’ll give you two minutes to pack, it will be here in fifteen.” Princesses privilege that, Fortia and Maisara had needed to wait for the trains when they had been travelling. For Helenna and Malam, a car always stayed close by. Helenna’s ears caught the sound of wind, her eyes moved immediately, Of Hatred’s arm became a blur, it gripped one of the daggers and sent it perfectly towards Helenna’s shoulder.
Maybe Kavaa would have been hit. She would have probably dodged though. Helenna had been in this position more than once already. Her hand shot up, she caught the knife perfectly by the handle. Tone flat and hair an unimpressed dark brown, she just stared at Malam. “Really?”
“I was just testing your speed.”
“I survived Worldbreaking and the Great War.” Helenna said dryly, her hair now entirely a dull brown. “How many times do you think I killed your assassins?” Malam was obviously pleased, her smile was joking, her tone sly.
“I don’t know, how many times did Leona warn you?”
“Less than you think.” Helenna replied. Maybe a dozen times in total, and then it was only when a strike team of organised sorcerers or a Divine was coming. Never for the simple fools with hidden blades and poisons and traps. Malam just chuckled to herself.
“Twenty four men, two full teams Helenna.” She turned back to the door. “I’d understand if they were whittled down over a month, a week even. In three days though?” The white cape of hair was like a brilliant blizzard. “No. Call it a bad feeling in my stomach, something is up.” Helenna didn’t press her, there was no need.
From one spymaster to another, Helenna knew exactly what Malam meant.