One year before.

  Seen from above, a small city.

  On the western side, the wall had a large breach: irregular, jagged, with blocks of stone blasted inward.

  Outside the walls, in front of the gap, stood just under a few thousand soldiers in white armor.

  Orderly, motionless, a solid line.

  Inside the walls, right behind the breach, a few hundred soldiers in khaki-colored liveries, all facing outward.

  Battle-ready.

  Bodies tense.

  No sign of wavering.

  The two armies were in a state of standoff: a precarious balance, as if a skirmish or a peace agreement could break out within a single breath.

  The part of the city closest to the walls had been reduced to rubble.

  Collapsed houses.

  Broken beams.

  Walls eaten by fire.

  Piles of debris scattered across the streets.

  On the ground lay dead bodies.

  Soldiers. Civilians. Some crushed by the collapse, others lying flat, others twisted among the stones.

  The ground was marked by blood: smears, trails, dark stains dragged across mud and dust.

  From the center of the city rose a delightful little palace, small but flawless.

  An intact fa?ade, pale stone without a single crack, clean windows, harmonious proportions.

  A presence completely out of place amid all that destruction.

  Inside, a large oval hall.

  At its center, a massive table.

  Around it, Katherina, surrounded by ten people: advisors, generals, figures of the city’s high command.

  It was Rahinua’s Hall of Debates.

  At a certain point, the door opened.

  Micheal walked in.

  He wore a light khaki-and-fire-colored livery, disheveled, the fabric wrinkled and stained with dirt along the edges.

  On his face, a fixed, sardonic grin—impertinent, unbothered.

  It was their first meeting.

  Micheal hadn’t brought anyone with him, Katherina thought.

  He approached the table and sat down on the opposite side.

  Silence.

  Katherina felt slightly unsettled by the way Micheal kept staring at her—an intrusive, predatory gaze, as if he were about to break every boundary of distance and restraint.

  The atmosphere was strange; unease flickered in the eyes of Katherina’s entire military entourage.

  Katherina broke the silence.

  “I see you didn’t bring anyone with you for consultation.”

  “I don’t need anyone to make a decision.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of making the wrong one?” Katherina asked, projecting a calm as solid as stone.

  “From my point of view, wrong decisions don’t exist. There are only exciting decisions… and boring ones.”

  Katherina said nothing.

  They were speaking in English, so no one else understood a word.

  To the others, it was the mages’ language—unintelligible, but not surprising.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  This man is out of control. Dangerous. He needs to be handled, Katherina thought.

  Then, in the language of that world, she said:

  “Proceed, Irham.”

  Her advisor, seated immediately to her left, unrolled a parchment and began to read the prepared speech.

  He looked slightly embarrassed; Katherina noticed a thin sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead and a faint tremor in his hands.

  “Rahinua represents the flagship of the alliance network of city-states of which we are the central pillar.

  For this reason, we cannot stand aside while an external power attempts to colonize it.

  Its model of government—what we have called libertarian municipalism—conceived by our governor, present here, Katherina Sidorova, and based on direct democracy, likewise her creation, is part of a broader project: the creation of a dynamic social framework, free of excessively vertical hierarchies, hierarchies that are built upon the consolidation of acquired power and the exploitation of people, as well as on the expansion of one’s own wealth, rather than on the responsible management of natural resources aimed at equalizing opportunities and strengthening shared prosperity.

  We acknowledge—though we do not approve of your methods—that the military expansion through which you have colonized the surrounding cities over the past year has not resulted in prolonged suffering, nor in increased slavery, nor in indiscriminate exploitation of natural resources.

  In short, we were surprised to find, by observing without interfering, that your colonies have, in a short time, proven capable of developing remarkably well under every aspect, from the economic sphere to the relations between colonists and local populations.

  This is the reason why we have not interfered…”

  “Ahhh—for fuck’s sake! What a drag.”

  Micheal cut him off.

  A heavy silence of indignation fell over the hall.

  “I’m not here to colonize this city, I’m here for fun. Cut the bullshit and tell me straight what you want. I’m sick of political double-talk.”

  A general spoke up after seeking permission with a glance at Katherina. She gave an authoritative nod.

  “Sir, in short: we have no desire to open a conflict with your city. Therefore—and I assure you it costs us dearly to show this much tolerance, given your actions—if you withdraw your troops, we will let the incident slide.”

  “So basically, you’re shitting yourselves. Fucking pussies.”

  The general was livid, and every military officer in the Sidorova delegation with him.

  She, on the other hand, kept an outward calm.

  A fake calm.

  Inside, she was boiling.

  “Control yourself, Micheal. You are in no position to treat us with such arrogance and crudeness. We are not one of those weak little city-states you’re used to dealing with. Do not force us to crush you.”

  “Crush us? Hahahaha. Be my guest. The only thing I know for sure is this: I’ll survive either way. Someone else will do the suffering—your soldiers, my soldiers, your civilians, or someone else’s. People I don’t give a flying fuck about.”

  Katherina listened, and one thought cut through her mind:

  He’s insane. He has to be stopped.

  The General Staff began muttering among themselves, but she wasn’t listening; she was being dragged into a whirlwind of confused, furious thoughts.

  Micheal watched them, amused.

  “What are your intentions? Why did you even accept these negotiations if none of our proposals interest you?” she asked in English.

  “I just wanted to fuck with you a little. Especially you. You take yourself so fucking seriously. You’re pathetic,” he replied in Valashian.

  Katherina felt the rage explode.

  She shot to her feet and fixed him with a razor-sharp glare.

  Her eyes lit up, and tiny electric discharges crackled around her like miniature skeletons of light.

  The air grew thick, tense, charged.

  “Ooooh, the bitch is pissed. Hahaha,” he said in Valashian.

  “I have a proposal for you, you cocky piece of shit. One-on-one. Let’s see if you’re still talking big after I’ve kicked your ass,” Katherina spat in Valashian.

  Her men were stunned.

  “Please calm down, Honorable Sidorova…” Irham said, visibly intimidated.

  “Stay the fuck out of it.”

  Her tone brooked no argument.

  The men fell silent instantly.

  “Ohhh, finally some spice, fuck yeah. So what are we betting, little slut?” Micheal asked.

  “If I win, you’ll tuck your tails between your legs and—”

  Before she could finish, Micheal cut her off:

  “And if I win?”

  “Not gonna happen. You have no idea who you just pissed off. In that impossible case, I’ll let you keep the city. But don’t get cocky—I’ll come back for it with everything I’ve got eventually.”

  Now they were both speaking only in the local tongue.

  “Doesn’t sound fair to me. I don’t give a shit about this city—you should’ve figured that out by now unless you’re all retarded.

  Let’s do this: if you win, we leave. If I win, I get to play with the population of this ridiculous political experiment you claim to have ‘invented’ when we both know you just stole it.

  Plus, you spend one night with me.”

  “Can’t wait to see you limping after a proper dose of American dick, you whore. Hahaha,” he added in English.

  Katherina clenched her jaw.

  Rage burned inside her.

  I’m going to rip that cruel smirk off your face, she thought.

  You perverted, drooling, piece-of-shit tyrant.

  “So be it.”

  “WHAT?!”

  The General Staff exploded in unison.

  “This is madness, Katherina!” Irham blurted, his face draining of color.

  “I told you to stay the fuck out of it.”

  She didn’t shout; she growled.

  And that growl was enough to silence them all.

  They froze, stunned.

  They had never seen her wield authority like this.

  “We’re not fighting inside the city,” she said. “We’ll move to a deserted area a few kilometers from here.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Anywhere you like, princess,” Micheal added with his usual shit-eating grin.

  They left the palace.

  Outside waited a pair of wagons pulled by creatures that looked like horses but were far too large to be horses.

  Thickened legs, tendons vibrating like steel cables, dark skin covered in natural bone plates, eyes black and glossy as obsidian stones.

  They moved with a heavy, almost seismic gait, as if every step made the ground itself tremble.

  Katherina and Micheal climbed into the same wagon.

  The interior was surprisingly luxurious: pink velvet upholstery, golden details, soft cushions—an eccentricity typical of Rahinuan nobility, completely out of place given the tension.

  Her men wanted to follow, but she didn’t even glance at them.

  No one else got in.

  They rode in silence for a while, rocked only by the swaying of the wheels.

  Then Katherina spoke.

  “So you’re American, if I got that right. How long have you been in this world?”

  “Ugh… do we really have to talk?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, as if the conversation physically annoyed him.

  Then, after a beat:

  “About a year, anyway. You?”

  He sounded calmer.

  No less infuriating.

  Katherina recognized that kind of calm: the calm of someone thinking way too much and nothing at all at the same time.

  “Five.”

  “That’s a long-ass time…” Micheal muttered, sounding bored.

  Katherina didn’t reply.

  He really is gorgeous, she thought. An irredeemable bastard… but gorgeous.

  Maybe in another life, another timeline, another universe, she would’ve even made a move.

  Not in this one.

  “Do you know anything about the genocide of the mages? The people from our world?” she asked.

  Micheal tilted his head.

  This time he actually looked curious.

  “And why are you asking me that out of the blue?”

  “Because they started dying en masse exactly one year ago. Exactly one year ago. Funny coincidence, don’t you think? Are you involved somehow?”

  “Who knows.”

  The smile he gave her was too wide, too smug, too… sardonic.

  You piece of shit. You’re involved. Of course you fucking are, Katherina thought, feeling rage seep into her veins.

  “If I ever find out you had anything to do with Petraeu’s death…”

  “You won’t live long enough—nor free enough—to find out, after what I’m going to do to you starting today, whore.”

  Katherina growled.

  A low, animal growl.

  “You’re really beautiful when you make those tough-girl faces,” Micheal said, his voice dripping with malice. “It suits you.”

  She turned her head away in disgust.

  The rest of the journey passed in tomb-like silence.

  They reached the area of the city where Micheal’s contingent was stationed.

  Before stepping down from the wagon, Micheal turned

  to her.

  “Can’t wait to see you again, princess.”

  He kissed the palm of his hand and blew it toward her face like an elegant insult.

  Get the fuck out, asshole.

  Katherina watched him climb down, the thought slicing through her mind like a red-hot blade.