The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1. Андрей Кочетков

head of his chancery and secretary of the Imperial Council. The cold steel in the man’s eyes confirmed the rumors that he was a very difficult man to please.

      Uni’s glance flickered to the corpulent man next to Forsey. He gulped. He had only seen Licisium Dorgoe once, but that was enough. On a rare visit to the archive, Dorgoe had spent most of his time shouting at Enel Margio for taking too long to come up from the basement and meet with his most important (although entirely unexpected) guest. Uni knew that Dorgoe was important enough to shout at anyone he wanted to, but he was much more interested in how a man like that – almost entirely uneducated and extremely vulgar – had managed to worm his way into the palace bureaucracy and, in a matter of just five years, become one of the most influential figures surrounding the Emperor.

      “A meeting of old friends?” Uni’s hands were cold, and his mind raced. “I should have known. I bet Dorgoe has my scroll somewhere on him right now. I much appreciate the favor, Enel Ronko!”

      The air in the room was electric. Forsey spoke, his voice crackling with displeasure. “Manelius, I fail to see how this boy could have anything of interest to tell us. I believe you promised us a detailed report, and instead of that you bring us a baby bird that hasn’t got its feathers yet!”

      A sharp voice rang out somewhere behind and to the right of Uni. “Quite true, Ronko. Do you really mean to say that your source is this nobody who looks afraid of his own shadow? I thought you had gotten your hands on a live Virilan, or at least someone who had visited that country!”

      Uni was deeply offended, but Ronko just chuckled. Uni turned around to get a glimpse of his second critic. To his surprise, the man was highly unusual in both person and dress: his long hair was swept up and tied with a leather thong on top of his head, then falling back down, over his shoulders, in a luxurious black wave. Instead of a long robe, he wore a yellow and red military tunic with short, wide sleeves – the kind that was designed for sword fighting. His nose was aquiline, and his cold, gray eyes radiated enough power to drill through a granite wall.

      Dorgoe’s deep, rough voice rang out, and Uni turned to stare at him. “Manelius, my friend, I am surprised you bothered to bring him here.” He looked around at the others. “You all should know that this young man was fired from the archive this morning in the most shameful fashion. For drunken misbehavior, I think it was. An absolute outrage and affront to His Majesty!”

      Ronko’s eyes sparkled recklessly. “My friends, I warned you that my source of information is unusual. Virilan has been closed to the rest of the world for so long that its language has been lost to us. Believe me, I have searched far and wide. There are only two people in the empire who know the Virilan language, and one of them stands before you.”

      “That’s a lie, Ronko!” Forsey interrupted him rudely. “The only Herandian subject who knows Virilan is Limentius Barko at the archive. He’s over seventy, his eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and he can barely walk. This boy…”

      “Is his only student.” Ronko’s voice was low. “He is the author of the manuscript we were just speaking of.”

      “Was he drunk when he wrote it?” Dorgoe countered.

      “Where is the manuscript, anyway? Forsey bubbled over. “Stop wasting our time, Ronko. Just tell the truth: there is nothing of interest about Virilan in the archive. And since that is the case, I cannot agree to send a delegation to a country about which we know nothing. It’s too dangerous and could lead to unforeseen consequences, even war!”

      The dark-haired man behind Uni stood up. “What do you mean you have no information? My men risked their lives forging their way three hundred henos into the dead lands and found a band of Virilans in the very heart of the Great Expanse.” His voice rumbled with anger. “What is your plan? To keep sending us on rash missions while you sit here and pretend that none of it means anything?”

      Ronko spoke again. “Honorable Tameto! Everyone in this room has the utmost respect and gratitude for your hard work, but you must not forget that we are speaking of peace, both inside our empire and on its borders. I am more than aware that you would like nothing better than to start a new war, but I’m not sure the rest of our empire’s subjects would agree with you. And I think the rest of the room will agree with me.”

      Tameto’s face hardened even further – if that was possible – but, to Uni’s surprise, he folded his arms and said nothing more.

      “You have certainly intrigued us, Manelius, but enough of that. I have heard dozens of arguments for and against the delegation, but I have yet to see any concrete facts on the subject. Are we even in a position where we could make an informed decision?”

      The man seated to the left of Dorgoe spoke in the calm voice of a man who always takes his time and sees himself as the rector of something like an imperial academy, a man whose job it is to keep learned discussions from getting out of hand. He looked to be about thirty and thus much younger than everyone else on the room (except Uni), and there was something kind and fatherly about the smile he now turned on the patriarchs of imperial politics, weighed down as they were by age and importance. He was the only one who had nodded in response to Uni’s timid bow earlier, and the young man instantly took a liking to him.

      “I couldn’t introduce such an important document for discussion without Enel Dorgoe’s approval.” Ronko’s voice dripped with honey. “As soon as the document was ready, I asked Margio from the archive to take a copy to my dear friend Licisium. I hope,” and here Ronko looked deeply into his adversary’s eyes, “that you have already formed an opinion about Virilan? Perhaps it will help turn our dearest Forsey around.”

      Uni stared at his protector in awe, but all the others turned their eyes to Dorgoe. Caught off guard – either by Ronko’s nerve or by the breadth of his knowledge – Dorgoe froze for a second, mouth half open, unable to make a sound.

      “Is this true, Licisium?” asked the young man to whom Uni had taken a liking. He had his fist over his mouth, but his eyes were laughing. He had a handsome face that was spoiled only by deep wrinkles on his forehead and the sides of his nose. “Why have you kept quiet? Is the drunken manifesto really that bad?”

      Dorgoe recovered quickly. “Of course, I read through the document. The information it contains is certainly worth attention, but there are gaps in the report, and some of it is hard to make heads or tails of. I asked Forsey to comment on some parts of it. I expect he can give more detailed answers to your questions.”

      “This is a plot!” Tameto leaped up, furious. “Merciful Lord, they think we are fools! Forsey, everyone knows you are against the delegation, but that does not excuse your dirty intrigues or your violation of the Emperor’s direct order!”

      Forsey looked ready to spit, so great was his impotent rage, but there was a mix of humor and pity on the face of the young man to the left of Dorgoe.

      “My friends, I see that nothing changes with you. But no matter. The Heavenly Light sees all and puts all in its place. Thank you, Ronko, for looking into the matter with detail, as always. I see that only Tameto and I have yet to read this wise opus. Since the young man is here…” He turned, “By the way, what is your name?”

      “Uni. I mean, Unizel. Unizel Virando.”

      The man smiled. “Unizel is not a Herandian name.”

      “I was named for my maternal grandfather, who was born in Seregad.”

      “Is that so? That means the blood of warriors flows in your veins. We have that in common. My mother was from that land. Well, since you are here, perhaps you could simply answer our questions?”

      “Of course,” Uni answered softly, spreading his arms and then folding them on his chest. “I am ready.” His voice sounded stronger.

      Fearsome Tameto struggled to hide a smile under his striking nose, and Dorgoe and Forsey worked quickly to patch the masks of all-knowing noblemen that they wore.

      Ronko rescued his protégé by asking the first question. “Remind