A hooded figure sat at a desk in a library lit by the muted glow of desk lamps. They were alone. Despite the vastness of the room, only a handful of chairs had been set out—this was no public space. Books lay scattered across the table, from world atlases to dog-eared mystery novels. With gloved hands, the figure held a dictionary whose cover announced its purpose: translating the language of Nation R into Finnish.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

A man in a military uniform lingered near the entrance.

The figure at the desk did not answer. Pages turned slowly, deliberately, as they continued to study the dictionary in silence.

The officer stared. The figure’s attire consisted of a deep crimson hood, crowned by two pale protrusions that jutted forward and remained visible even from behind.

“I understand you asked for privacy,” the man went on, hesitation creeping into his voice, “but we’ve received some intelligence I believe you’ll find… relevant.”

“What kind of intelligence?”

The voice that emerged reverberated—rasping, mechanical, stripped of warmth.

“Apparently, the mercenaries our forces hired managed to reach the Inentropy zone. Unfortunately, they transmitted a signal indicating a ceasefire. A truce with the enemy.”

“Does that mean they haven’t advanced?”

The book snapped shut and struck the desk with a dull thud.

“I’m afraid not. But you’ll be glad to know we haven’t lost either. It’s only a matter of time before our troops break through the defensive lines and—”

“That does not please me.”

The figure rose slowly and turned.

Color drained from the officer’s face as the masked gaze fixed on him. The figure’s tall frame—nearly six feet—became more imposing with every step forward.

“Remember,” the masked one said, stopping directly in front of him, “I made a deal with this country to achieve a single objective. Nothing more.” A slight tilt of the head. “Deliver what you promised, and I will be satisfied—therefore, I will help you out of this predicament. I trust you haven’t forgotten that, Commander.”

The commander could only stare, frozen. The mask before him was stark white, shaped with the severe contours of an owl’s face, its eyes replaced by black polarized lenses. Two horns—like a gazelle’s—rose from the forehead, piercing through the wine-colored hood that draped the figure’s head. The voice came through a respirator fitted with twin speaker ports, both concealed behind fine, opaque mesh.

“N-no… I haven’t. We haven’t,” the commander managed, swallowing hard.

“Splendid.”

The mechanical timbre did not change as the figure stepped past him and headed for the door. “And tell me—those mercenaries you hired. Did you inform them how eager I am to see them once I reach the Inentropy zone?”

“Regrettably… no. With all due respect, those orders came shortly after they entered the area. We lost contact soon after. My apologies.”

“No need.” The figure paused at the threshold. “The delay was mine, after all. Besides, I merely wish to meet them.” A faint pause. “What did you say they call themselves?”

“The Apple eaters, sir.”

“The Apple eaters.” A quiet, thoughtful note crept into the filtered voice. “I wish to see them because of a hunch—nothing more. Keep me informed of the mission’s progress, and let me know when I may relocate to the border with Nation U. Understood?”

“Understood, Mr. Kaiser.”

The commander watched as Kaiser’s hooded silhouette slipped through the doorway, vanished into the corridor beyond, and was swallowed by the dark.

End of Book One