The subject of the painting was strange: in the center stood a man with a long sword in his hand, and at his feet was a long ladder made of a pile of bones.
He was looking at the black sky, as if deep in thought.
Looking at the painting, a man with his hands clasped behind his back nodded approvingly.
He was simply dressed, only in a long robe, but far from modestly.
The edges of the dark purple robe were adorned with exquisite embroidery, and the material was striking in its quality.
Light, perfectly fitted, incredibly comfortable.
On Nostramo, such clothing spoke volumes.
He had an elongated face, with features arranged on it with aristocratic precision.
Deep-set eyes, two black tattoos descending from his brows to his cheekbones.
His mustache was perfectly trimmed.
All this gave him an appearance both commanding and noble.
Mantas Skraivok.
That was his name.
And as for his status…
“My Count.” A strange, hissing voice, like the grinding of teeth, came from the dark corner of the room.
“The ‘Knocking Teeth’ have sent an envoy.
He wishes to see you.” “Me?” Mantas Skraivok chuckled.
“What’s this?
Did they just now remember that their slave in the Underhive was killed under unclear circumstances?” “The envoy of the ‘Knocking Teeth’ did not mention this, my Count.” “Is that so?” Mantas Skraivok turned around and nodded to someone in the darkness.
“Well then, escort the man from the ‘Knocking Teeth’ to the reception hall.” “As you command, my Count.” Ten minutes later, Mantas Skraivok entered his reception hall.
It was so luxurious that it seemed almost absurd, but such was House Skraivok.
Their reception hall was very different from traditional meeting places.
In the corner of the hall, a woman in black with a horrifying face was waiting for him.
He walked over quickly, and the woman immediately stood up, bowing respectfully.
“It is a great honor to see you, esteemed Painted Count, Lord Mantas Skraivok.
The ‘Knocking Teeth’ send you their most sincere greetings.” “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Majina.” The Painted Count smiled slightly and gestured for her to come to the long table in the center of the hall.
He sat at the head, and Majina took the second seat.
“So?” Mantas Skraivok began softly.
“For what purpose have the ‘Knocking Teeth’ sent you?” “This cannot yet be called a purpose, esteemed Count.” The woman, who had no lips and whose eyelids were nailed shut so they wouldn’t close, answered monotonously.
“We have not come to make a deal, my lord.
We do not intend to interfere in the affairs of Quintus.
Everyone knows it is already in the hands of House Skraivok.” “Oh, please, don’t say that.
There are still forces of four families in Quintus that we haven’t driven out.” Mantas Skraivok smiled slightly.
“So…
when do you plan to leave Quintus?” Majina paused for a moment.
Her eyeballs, unlike those of other people in times of thought, did not move but remained still and ghastly.
After a while, she spoke slowly.
“We can officially announce our withdrawal from Quintus as early as tomorrow.” “Hmm…
go on, I’m listening, Majina.” “But we have one request for you, my Lord Count.” A look of interest appeared on Mantas Skraivok’s face.
“The ‘Knocking Teeth’ are willing not to investigate the death of that slave.
We will not send anyone to Quintus.
But in return, we hope you will grant us a small discount on psychotropic substances.” “A discount?” “Yes, my Lord Count.” “That is, the ‘Knocking Teeth’ are willing to give up all of Quintus and their reputation — for a small discount?” “The size of the discount is at your discretion,” Majina answered lifelessly.
“We trust your word.” The Painted Count burst out laughing.
“It can be arranged, of course it can, my dear Majina.” He winked affectionately at the woman.
“Thirty percent, how does that sound?
Of course, I’ll add a small gift — for example, finding the killer of your slave.” “That does not concern us, my Lord Count.” “Never mind; in business, it’s customary to return a favor for a favor.
You are ready to make concessions, and I cannot be too stingy.
Agreed, Majina.
You may go.
And forgive me for not offering you tea.” Mantas Skraivok smiled, baring his teeth.
…..Do you mind?
“I don’t drink tea, my Lord Count,” the woman said.
She stood up, bowed again, and left the reception hall.
Mantas Skraivok watched her go, his smile growing wider.
“They’re afraid.” The Painted Count said softly.
“They’re afraid that if they stick their noses into Quintus at such a moment, I’ll cut off their supply of psychotropic substances, so they simply decided to forget the death of that slave.” “How pathetic.
Noble blood, yet mired in carnal pleasures and chemicals.
What do you think, Shadow?” From the dark corner of the hall, where the light of the burning candles didn’t reach, a strange, hissing voice like the grinding of teeth rang out.
“I completely agree with you, my lord.” Mantas Skraivok chuckled.
“Three scions, an entire gang, in one night…
What terrifying efficiency.” “And we still don’t even know who did it.” “The killer hung the bodies of my son and eldest daughter at the shelter of our slaves, let them bleed out, left them swinging in the wind…
and we don’t even know who the murderer is.” His smile grew wider and wider until it reached its limit, then vanished.
Only a terrifying calm remained.
“This is simply unbearable,” Mantas Skraivok said grimly.
“Gendor was arrogant and worthless, but in some things he was as tenacious as a hound.
Leina was stupid, empty, but she had decent military abilities.
And my eldest daughter…” He took a deep breath, and his voice suddenly became soft.
“My eldest daughter, Irene…
She was perfect.
She was supposed to kill her brothers and sisters, inherit the Black Mark, and lead the family forward when I grew old.
But she is dead, Shadow.
My eldest daughter is dead.” “Accept my condolences.” “No, I do not grieve, I only regret,” said Mantas Skraivok.
“And I am furious.
But not because of their deaths, but because…” …..at the very moment when House Skraivok spent sixty years preparing, at the very moment when we can finally become the first family on Nostramo, fully controlling a hive…
Mantas Skraivok’s hands clenched into fists, his cheek twitched, but his voice remained soft.
…..someone dared to challenge us.
“What are your orders, my lord?” “Find them,” Mantas Skraivok replied indifferently.
“Find them at any cost.
The Great Purge will start soon, so I’ll just start it earlier.
Send people with the announcement tomorrow, and immediately begin the Great Purge right after the announcement.” “Turn everything upside down, but find the killer.
I want to interrogate him personally.
I want him to tell the council of aristocrats personally who was behind this!” “As you command, my lord.” A shadow silently vanished from the luxurious hall.
… A piercing, cold wind.
Two shadows raced across the dark sky.
They moved through the darkness like ghosts, and soon stopped on the head of a stone gargoyle.
Kariel looked down.
His face was calm, but a cold, blue fire burned in his eyes.
Ghost looked at his back, his lips pressed together, and remained silent.
“Look,” Kariel said suddenly, raising his hand.
Following his direction, Ghost looked down.
Among the jumble of towers, there was a wide, deliberately cleared square.
Compared to other places in the Underhive, it was much cleaner, obviously cleaned every day.
Many thugs were patrolling around the square, which was unusual.
“There it is,” Kariel said quietly.
“Look, Ghost.
They’ve already started putting out patrols and taking over the houses around.” Hearing this, Ghost frowned and looked around carefully.
Thanks to his excellent eyesight and ability to see in the dark, he quickly realized that Kariel was right.
All the houses around the square were occupied by gangs.
Silhouettes of people flickered in the windows.
Ghost could see them from a great distance, and he had no doubt that these were not peaceful residents.
Peaceful residents didn’t wear tattoos or dress in strange outfits.
Only gangs used such marks to distinguish their own and show affiliation with their group.
After all, peaceful residents were lucky if they had any clothes at all; there was no question of any pickiness.
“What do we do, Kariel?” Ghost asked, as usual.
Kariel turned around and looked at him, but didn’t answer immediately.
He steered the conversation to another topic.
“How did you like the last improvisation?” “I think it was pretty good?” “Answer with confidence, Ghost.” “I think it was very good, Kariel.” “Excellent.
Then we’ll do the same this time, Ghost.” Kariel smiled slightly.
“First, we wait.” “Hmm…
patience is an important quality?” Ghost asked uncertainly.
“Yes, patience is an important quality.” On the cold wind, Kariel’s quiet laughter gradually faded.
Down below, the thugs, suspecting nothing, bustled about.
No one knew what would happen tomorrow.
Yes, no one knew.