Part 5. Mockery of Fate.

Commentary from the author on Part 5. Mockery of Fate.

Many thanks to E.I.D. for the donation. The character, Ingmar, is named in his honor.

" Jacques survived," the man in the blue suit stated, pouring tart tea for himself and his guest into porcelain cups.

"And how did that happen?" - thoughtfully inquired the interlocutor, smoking a thin cigarette.

"There is a case of... accident," the man grimaced, moving one of the cups and saucers closer to his colleague.

"And be more specific?" - The other man with the distinctive graying of his hair asked, tasting the vaporous drink with obvious pleasure.

"The first one out after Ironwood was... Duffo."

A heavy sigh of disbelief was heard in the half-darkened office.

" Wait, wait, wait, so Jacques Schnee gave the 'glory' of First Atlas Businessman to some Duffo?" - The gray-haired man clearly didn't believe the words spoken.

But the facts were against him. And so were the reports of the trustees.

"Purely technically, Daffo Industries is number one in the ore mining industry, if you don't count the SDC and its ashes mines," the gentleman in the three-piece suit muttered, offended by such a reaction.

"I don't give a damn about Bran and his fucking company! No, but think about what I'm saying. Jacques, I repeat, Jacques Schnee gave away something that had belonged to him all these years for no apparent reason! What's the point of it at all?" - The man leaned back after his monologue, taking a deep puff and trying to process what had happened.

"Ahem, you're right, of course, but maybe there is a rational explanation for everything that's going on," the man shook his head.

" And what would that be?"

"A leak."

In the settled silence it was possible only to distinguish the fall of a needle.

"... Do you suppose the damn Schnee got wind of our plans?"

"Not likely. Everyone privy to our business either knows how to keep their mouths shut, or revealing that kind of information would prove to be extremely disadvantageous in the coming future," the gentleman replied confidently.

"Then how the hell did Jacques cede the role of 'host' to some fat man?" - The gray-haired man repeated his main question.

"That's what we have yet to find out. It's too late to change plans. We just have to be a little more careful than we originally thought."

A new puff symbolized a forced agreement with the words of the blue-suited man.

"I guess that's all that's left. Well, it'll still be interesting to see how he handles the coming storm while bedridden," the man grinned predatorily, returning to his tea before it had cooled.

"Oh, this is sure to be quite a show. Maybe we'll get a bite of it," his colleague supported him, also taking a bite of the porcelain cup.

"Well... have a good appetite then!" the gray-haired man grinned anticipatively.

"As you can, colleague, as you can..." - replied his interlocutor in the same manner.

"Either good or nothing at all about the dead!"

In the dark office there was the clinking of fine china.

***

"" Terrorist attack at Mantle Palace! Photo strictly 18+ ""

"A tainted holiday. The tragedy of Mantle Palace. "

"The city beneath the sole. General Ironwood has bitten the bit. "

"The celebration of the bloody revolution was not without its deaths. "

"The riots in Mantle are in full force. The city is on fire! The looters are coming! "

"The new " First Businessman of Atlas." The story of Bran Duffo. "

"Schnee and Duffo. The story of their friendship and feud. Not for children. 16+"

"Jacques Schnee is dead and who will lead the SDC? The stakes are open..."

"Jacques Schnee planned a conspiracy? A Daffo Industries set-up?! "

"Jacques Schnee is dead! Willow Schnee is in mourning. Photo in color. "

"A hero of our time, Jacques Schnee. Video attached."

"The mystery of Jacques Schnee. Secret manipulator or valiant hero? "

"Jacques Schnee..."

"Jacques Schnee..."

"Jacques..."

Watching the news bulletins coming out one after the other a few minutes apart was interrupted by a call on the scroll.

She took it instantly, putting the device to her ear.

"Mistress?" - came the concerned voice of Jacques's assistant and deputy, who was acting as her husband's deputy during his departure.

"Yes, Carmen," her voice didn't waver, which was more than she could say for the shaky fingertips she clenched into a fist to try to calm the shakiness that still lingered.

"We haven't identified the culprit, but the situation continues to escalate. A lot of journalists are definitely freaking out. So far, thanks to our public relations staff being in the office, we've managed to suppress all the fake news, gossip and such that's arising, but it won't last long..." - the girl was clearly tense and it was understandable why.

It's been a very long time since the SDC has had such massive attempts to move from the relatively recently occupied throne.

Either it was all the enemies who decided to make a timely mess with their annoying hegemon, or there was a real conspiracy in the shadows, combined with the recent terrorist attack.

It turned out that, initially, the enemy intended to destroy the SDC leader by decapitating the colossus and breaking its back while it was flailing around in panic, but now the unknowns have switched to a different method of warfare.

Information warfare.

And they didn't care about the truth or what happened at the ceremony honoring the revolution. As long as there are dissatisfied people, there will be attempts to defame the SDC.

"Madam, what should we do?" - Carmen turned to the supervisor who had been silent all this time, but she only opened her lips and said nothing.

The seconds dragged on, her closed eyelids fluttering as her fingers tugged at the hem of her evening gown.

"Keep doing your job, Carmen. We can't risk acting rashly right now," Willow's order was immediately relayed and the call cut off.

The woman sighed convulsively and shifted her gaze to her spouse.

Jacques, bandaged and pale as a dead man, lay unconscious on his stomach on the ornate bed.

Cold sweat was dripping from his forehead. The man seemed to have caught a fever after everything that had happened.

Willow immediately called the maid via the room phone and continued to frantically ponder.

Jacques had protected her. Saved her from the bomb thrown in their direction.

Why?

The last thought swirled around in her head like a rabid sparrow, preventing her from dismissing the picture of what had happened.

For a dozen years now, she had been convinced that their marriage had been a farce and a sham.

Nothing more.

Only the presence of her children and her father, and the faint hope of something she didn't understand, had kept Willow from doing anything rash.

But how long could it go on like this?

There was a knock at the door of the room. Willow flinched. After the ceremony, every sound echoed in her mind, but the doctor had assured her that this effect would pass soon.

A second later, the broad figure of Ironwood appeared in the aisle.

He no longer looked as solemn as he had the night before, but rather a grim determination that accompanied him invariably at this hour.

His hair was disheveled, and there were bags under his eyes, indicating that he had not been lucky enough to sleep that night.

The man strode measuredly to the center of the bedroom, standing next to Willow, who was sitting in a chair, his white uniform now slung over her shoulders.

His adjutant, who had accompanied him everywhere today, stood in the doorway, a silent shadow.

There were too many things to be attended to at such a difficult moment.

Ironwood felt precisely he was being torn apart by the authority he had just been entrusted with, as well as his responsibilities.

The terrorist attack on the palace had far-reaching consequences that instantly spread throughout Mantle.

The city was filled with looters and other unpleasant personalities, who had to be disposed of by the Atlas army, because during the holiday almost all the lawmen took a week's vacation.

Those who were still in the ranks were severely lacking, which led to a series of riots in the streets of the city.

It should be noted that not all the terrorists had been captured during the crushes and shootings in the palace, so Atlas' light warships were flying over the heads of Mantle's inhabitants for the second day, searching for any suspicious elements and trying to capture them as quickly as possible.

There was a terrible lack of information regarding the attackers and the targets they were pursuing.

No one was given alive or allowed to be apprehended without massive civilian casualties.

Which the general himself could not do, not only because of future questions from the press and the Atlas Council, but also because he had promised himself to protect his people.

And now, as a result, he had to clean up the city from all kinds of trash, which the Atlas Council did not allow him to start, using such an argument as "too high risk of outrage of the masses and the subsequent negative response".

That's bullshit.

After all, if we don't clean up the city now, what happens next?

"The doctor says he'll pull through," the general said dryly, eyeing his 'partner'.

One of the men whose support he had had to enlist in order to rise to the top and bring about the very order he had not seen in some places.

And which he longed to see, knowing that those who followed him and those who stood behind him were safe and sound.

And Jacques, for Ironwood, was just another stepping stone to climb further, and one that he would sooner or later forget.

But in the light of recent events--was he wrong in his conclusions?

" I've already been informed," Mrs. Schnee replied, continuing to watch her spouse, still immersed in her own thoughts.

"Not everyone is capable of thinking of anyone but himself at such a tense moment. Such an act is only characteristic of a real man," James continued, musing aloud.

"I know," Willow replied equally indifferently, glancing down at the man beside her with reddened eyes and raising her eyebrows involuntarily.

Did she recognize the look of respect on Ironwood's face?

Or was she imagining it, as she had to respond again to the trill of the scroll.

"Yes, Winter?" - Willow said more briskly, holding the device carefully, "I'm all right. Yes, the worst has passed. Yes..."

The door opened, and a black-haired girl with her hair tied back, wearing light-colored clothes and a sparkling pendant around her neck that could be seen on the other employees of the hotel that Ironwood's group had been forced to occupy because of the riots in the city and the difficulty in evacuating the victims.

With her head down, she entered with a basin of water in her hands and proceeded to apply a cold compress to Jacques' face, as well as another treatment of the burns and their subsequent bandaging.

Soon, the girl finished changing the bandages and began to pack her things to leave the room.

"What a beautiful pendant, is it agate?" - James showed some interest in the necklace.

Something made him suspicious of the woman who had entered. Was it her facial expression, her demeanor, her gestures while rewinding, or... her gait?

The stride of a trained fighter rather than a simple hotel employee. He didn't see that in the others.

Perhaps his paranoia had been elevated to an absolute these days, but he'd rather make a mistake and apologize than let another incident happen.

" No sir, it's a carnelian." - The black-haired maid, meanwhile, said obediently.

"Oh, carnelian, Ingmar, carnelian is mined mostly in Mistral, is my memory correct?" - James asked the adjutant at the front door, moving his unprosthetic hand to the back of the chair where Willow was sitting, not paying any attention to their dialog, fully absorbed in her conversation with her daughter.

"That's right sir, memory serves you right, carnelian is mined mostly in the south of Mistral, in the mountains of Tartarus." - The adjutant spoke calmly, moving slowly to the door and blocking any possible escape attempt.

"Oh, I remember, I was still a private when I was in those mountains the first time... Um, miss, could you pour me a juice please? " James said, pointing the girl to a bottle of the sweet drink that was on the table beside the bed and part of the standard list of amenities for guests of their hotel.

" Of course sir." - she said with a strained smile and went to get a glass for the general.

" Oh no, no, that's okay, there's a cup here." - James pointed to the mug originally intended for Jacques. - "I am a soldier of Atlas, a man of unpretentiousness." - James smiled, keeping his gaze fixed on the hotel employee.

" Of course sir." - James smiled, still wearing the same strained smile, but with slightly stiffened movements the girl turned to fetch the glass bottle.

" Yes, the first time I was in the mountains of Tartarus was back when I was a young green private. We were on a mission to rescue slaves. The bandits used tasers," the girl twitched and squirmed a little, which James had time to notice, "to force people to dig in the mines."

James kept his eyes on her neck, which was partially covered by a carnelian necklace.

" Thank you... Um, please don't go too far" - James accepted the cup with his human hand and slightly tasted its contents, "Yes, they forced people to dig in the mines, back then I thought they forced them to mine ashes for illegal weapons, " - He paused briefly to sip from the container, and continued talking, "The captives looked horrible, battered, intimidated, afraid of the slightest touch," - Meanwhile he stood behind the employee's back, also blocking her way to the room door.

James finished his juice.

" And what terror they felt when they heard the clicks of our shoes."

Click.

The girl flinched when she heard a click behind her back.

" Yes, yes, Ingmar, exactly like that, you understand me perfectly. One click and they would go into sovereign terror," James stepped forward, looking at his companion from his height, increasing the already tense situation, "Some of the captives had branching networks of electrical burns all over their bodies, I figured the bandits were bullying the weakest to intimidate the tougher ones," James lowered his gaze to the empty cup, "But I was surprised to see a pile of red stones in one of the crates instead of a scattering of ashes.... clear carnelian. "

"I dare say, sir, that was southeast of the Tartarus Mountains, where the clear carnelian is mined."

" Yes Ingmar, you're right," James looked out the only wide window the bedroom had, facing just east, to his left stood a silent and tense black haired worker just down his human arm. - "You know, those people had very strong but, very... stiff arms after a long day's work. It was about... fifteen seconds southeast of Mount Ivesemi. "Excuse me, miss," James turned to the girl, "what's your name?"

" Cinder, sir," the words barely came out of her mouth, as if she was overcoming herself to pronounce a single letter.

"Cinder, pour me some more please," he set the cup in the human's hand a little closer to her, but so that she would be forced to approach that one and pour the drink from the bottle, "So Ingmar, it's since then that I've hated all gemstones, especially..." - James looked into Cinder's trembling eyes," "carnelian."

A few things happened in the next instant, the Adjutant Ingmar came up behind Cinder from behind and grabbed her arm in a firm grip, while James threw the juice cup to the side and grabbed her other arm with his metal hand, preventing her from moving.

With his freed hand, James grabbed the necklace, causing a wave of panic in Cinder's amber irises.

The girl who tried to move was hit by a powerful wave of electricity, so much so that her body went into convulsions, and Ironwood and Ingmar, who were holding her, also felt the residual effects of the electric shock.

James took the prosthetic limb around Cinder's neck and with some effort ripped off the slave collar, exposing the scars from the electrical burns, allowing the black-haired hotel employee to fall into the arms of the adjutant.

The recent electric shock hadn't killed her, but it had rendered her unconscious for a while.

Well, that was even better.

Ironwood wrinkled his nose unpleasantly.

The force of the current was really not insignificant, so much so that if used for a long time it could scorch the top layer of skin down to the flesh.

An extremely cruel and yet effective tool.

And yet.

Would a suicide bomber or a terrorist be wearing such a paraphernalia? Wouldn't it be easier to use a vial of poison or something equally fast-acting in the event of a failed mission?

Something didn't add up, but the general was going to figure it out. Now or later.

In the meantime, Ironwood looked more closely at the collar, remembering that all the employees of the hotel, with the exception of the hostess, wore them.

As the saying goes, he sought copper and found gold.

He had enough trouble with the unrest in the city, looters, terrorists, and now he had to disband the slave den.

Damn this kingdom.

"Willow, stay in your room. My adjutant will stay at the entrance," Ironwood turned his blue eyes on the terrified woman who had already experienced too much in the last twenty-four hours.

" H-okay..."

"Ingmar!"

"Yes, sir!" - The adjutant stood at attention, straight and straight, as if he hadn't been electrocuted recently.

"Put all the men of the cordon on standby. Nobody in or out. It's time to deal with the next lurking pustule on Atlas's body," James said calmly, glaring at the emotionless girl beneath him.

If she had wanted to strike, she would have done so much sooner, and she'd had her moments to do so. So she could be held for now, pending the outcome of the investigation.

Oh yes, the first thing to do was to talk to the "mother" of the local workers. She was the one who should have known more information.

And she would tell him everything... Whether she wanted to or not.

James strode out into the hotel corridor, ready to exact his vengeance on anyone who deserved it.

And with every breath he took, more and more of them.

***

My head throbbed, black spots flickered in my eyes, and an annoying beeping sounded in my ears.

The thought flashed through his mind that he'd felt the same sensation so many times before.

It was like deja vu of some sort.

He realized he was lying on a soft double bed in a room.

There was no one inside. His whole body was burning, especially his back.

What had he done so badly that he couldn't get through the day in peace? No stress, no urgent solution to the problems he had encountered, no jumping from the ashes bomb he had thrown....

That last one should definitely be emphasized and circled.

But Jacques had no opportunity to rest now either. The first days after the attack are the most important. Already now the people's opinion about what had happened was being formed under the influence of the mass media, many of which, if not all of them, stood under someone, and therefore he had no doubts about their general tone.

Even though he could not be directly and openly accused of indulging the terrorists, because he himself had suffered, and so nobly... He had covered his wife from the bomb, without sparing himself!

I'll have to write to Carmen to make sure that such a thesis is used in the upcoming defense action.

A vat of sewage will be poured over him. Whether he wants it or not. However, thanks to his second chance, he has managed to get an umbrella, which, in theory, should cover him from the impending disaster.

But... This umbrella was extremely fragile and would save him from most of the slop that would be poured on him, rather than providing absolute protection.

He had no doubts about the ability of his enemies to make a big deal out of a fly. And the mines, whether he wanted to or not, were already known to enough people that he would have liked to avoid informing, but he could not change anything.

And these bloodsuckers would clearly target what he had only just managed to get his hands on. It was now or never that they would be able to snatch the prey from his claws.

And so Jacques had no illusions that he had managed to avoid the storm.

For the first wave was always followed by the second.

And Mr. Schnee was able to see it by unlocking the scroll in his headboard and turning his attention to the Atlas news.

To immediately break the third rule in his own rule book, no swearing in public or alone in his office.

" Holy shit... How did things just get worse?!"