His attempt to meet the Grand Magister failed. Predictably, the old fox chose to wait out the storm and hide. The familiar corridors of the Tower seemed alien to Dragomir as he walked through them, listening to the echo of his footsteps. He frowned, touching his burning forehead: the migraine was back, and he had no bitter mint tea to ease the pain.
Peace was a taunting mirage that always remained out of his reach. He had spent his whole life fighting against his own fractured mind and the foolishness of others. Sometimes he thought he could not bear the burden. It was easy to be righteous without taking responsibility, and most people preferred to condemn him for his lack of sympathy. But their opinions mattered little to him. What was there to respect in those who did not see beyond their own noses?
That night Dragomir reached Slavoj Kosar via his light projector, standing on a spacious balcony overlooking Maksimir Park. The Magister looked barely alive, deep dark circles making his brown eyes pop out. Dragomir noticed fresh blood on his sleeve and dust in his tangled hair. He was sent to Northern Albania, as Dragomir had suspected before. Shipping off Kosar, the Grand Magister kept Dragomir away from the frontlines: the Alka's master of underhanded tactics was more useful to him in the Tower than a valiant fighter like Kosar. He observed his mentor's round face. It was strained with deep concern.
"Magister," Dragomir bowed slightly. "I must inform you that I intend to stop my family from murdering Leudora Galbur."
"The meeting organized by Tomislav and Domagoj is a scam, isn't it?" Slavoj groaned inwardly.
"Most certainly," Dragomir confirmed. "Having analyzed the Spy Guild's dossier on her I have come to an unsettling conclusion. She possesses powers she does not control but can unleash."
"What makes you think so?" Slavoj sounded shocked.
"Even most trained gravity-switchers cannot resist a lightning-bearer gone insane. And if she is half as driven and decisive as the Spy Guild believes her to be, she will go for the kill – at the cost of her own life and sanity."
"What do you mean...?"
"Grand Magister Blažetin has been following Lady Galbur's career since the appearance of her controversial article about our origins and the Ancestors." Dragomir spoke clearly and distinctly, measuring every word.
"Blažetin is a careful man." Slavoj frowned. "And he expects you to fail. But you know that already, don't you? What about Leudora Galbur?"
"She is... unconventional. That's why I asked you to address her in the first place."
"So are you, Commander."
"Possibly." Dragomir nodded reluctantly, "If she makes threats, I would take them seriously."
"Well. What do you intend to do then?" Slavoj pressed his lips tightly together and tensed as if expecting a blow. Dragomir raised an eyebrow, collecting his thoughts. He had spent much time alongside Slavoj, yet all too often he realized that even his mentor could not fully grasp his motives and tactics. With a strange thrill tightening his throat, he wondered if Leudora Galbur could. In his whole life he had never encountered a person whose mind was so similar to his own. It was an unsettling discovery.
"The Grand Magister has ordered me to retrieve Svetozar Galbur. If I fail, I prefer to keep the Alka's reputation untarnished. You will inform the Grand Magister that my actions were not sanctioned by you or other Magisters if Svetozar Galbur dies. I am overstepping my prerogatives as the leader of the Red Bond. This is the most I can do."
"Dragomir!" Slavoj exclaimed. "I won't let you do that!"
"I have made my decision." He remained calm and stiff.
YOU ARE READING
Byzantine Purple
Fantasy"History is a survivor's tale. It knows no villains. Only failures." A decade ago, Leudora had her major enemies eliminated - the scientist known as the Dalmatian Serpent, and his followers, who sought her people's blood. A ruthless guardian of her...
