Chapter 1.6. Late dinner at the lake

 

Mike returned to his house around 7 p.m. He looked at his wristwatch. In forty minutes, Colonel Tirel's men were to come by and collect the rest of the debt. And there were only two hours until the late dinner at Catherine de Graaf's estate.

Wasting no time, Mike made his way to Efi. The transfer literally took a couple of seconds.

"Efi, I'm back," Mike said as he transferred.

"I can see that," she said, literally whispering in his ear. And when did she have time to take the shield down, thought Mike. "Did you bring me what I asked you?" She asked.

"Yeah. I stopped by the bookstore on the way home and bought you some," he told her and showed her a not-full bag. It looked pretty light.

Efi took it away instantly. Almost immediately she appeared next to the nearest table and pulled out the contents of the bag: a couple of newspapers and journals.

"Efi, I won't be there long. I have to get back."

"Hmm," she distractedly said. Looking at the wall clock. "Fifteen minutes past seven. What other business do you have, Mike?"

A slightly irritated expression appeared on Efi's face. She didn't want to let him go anywhere.

"I have an invitation to a late dinner."

"Dinner?" Efi wondered. "Mike?"

"Yes?"

"Where's my fresh soul?" She asked

She reappeared alongside Mike. He went a little pale.

"You don't feed on souls."

"I was feeding, Mike, I was feeding," she said, running her claw across Mike's cheek.

"But that was 50,000 years ago. Now you're a ghost. Or rather, almost… Never mind. You only need a small amount of energy to sustain your form."

"But the desire remains. You, Mike, have no idea what it's like to be trapped in a body… a ghost, but still have all the desires and sensations of a physical body."

"Fifty thousand years must have dulled the memories of a past body."

"Yes, to some extent it did," Efi said. "But I haven't been conscious for all 50,000 years. My state was a halfway point between meditation and death. And it's only in the last 40 years since I met you here that I've been fully conscious. And the past is slowly coming back to me. It's getting worse. Imagine, you have an itch, and you can't scratch it. You feel hungry, but you can't satiate it."

"We've talked about this before. I don't know how to help you. You have two options, as you have before. First, I can imprison your soul in a crystal and bind it to a physical object like a statue. But you lose almost everything, leaving only one soul unbound to your body. That's probably even worse than your 50,000 years. The second option is the magical construct of the body. Actual necromancy, where an undead body is fueled by magic. Only with the addition of a soul. This option will probably be even worse. The body will be completely alien to your soul, and it will decay over time unless I get a body from your race. But all this time you refuse to name it. You don't say much about the past or yourself. You're definitely of demonic race, but I've never seen or read about one like you. And… all high-ranking demons have wings. Efi, where are your wings?"

There was a pause. Efi definitely didn't want to answer the question, so she looked a little to the side, not at Mike.

"Efi, why aren't you saying anything? Answer me."

"You forgot the third option. Transferring my soul into a living body."

"Efi… Look. The first two options are already complicated, demand rituals, and are illegal in most territories. With the third option, the soul must adjust exactly to the body, and there must be no soul in it, otherwise, it's option two again. This is ideal if you have your native body, but without a soul. I know of only one being capable of such transference and possibly of creating your native body. And it's not me."

"Your so-called goddess Izanami? It's all a lie. Gods don't exist. And they're certainly not all-powerful."

At these words, her face expressed obvious disgust. Mike didn't know why she felt this way about all divine things. It was the same every time.

"I saw her, in person."

The expression on her face changed to surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes. I was present at the celebration when she appeared. You know she can materialize a physical body of any form. But you won't feel anything when she does it, no magical surge. She probably does it even without magic, like a miracle being born before your eyes."

"When I read about your goddess, it's like she's the embodiment of kindness and light. Only she lacks white wings. The humans of the south have created an all-powerful god for themselves. They even draw wings on him."

"What?" Mike didn't understand.

Efi sighed heavily. "Never mind… You seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. Like for a late dinner?"

Mike seemed to wake up and quickly glanced at his watch. It was half-past seven on it.

"That's right. Did you get the crystals and tablets ready that I asked for?"

He rose from his seat.

"Yes," she replied. "There are two bags over there by the wall."

Mike walked over to where Efi indicated and picked up the two leather bags.

"That's it, and I'm leaving. I'll probably come back tomorrow night. I won't make it in the morning," Mike said and stood in the center of the pentagram.

Efi activated the transfer. When Mike disappeared completely, she sighed heavily.

"Wings, huh?" she said quietly. Six huge black wings materialized behind her back. Four of them look torn to shreds. The once majestic wings now looked very miserable.

She grimaced at the sad sight of the wings and put them away at once. With another sigh, she headed to the table where the newspapers and journals that Mike had brought were lying.

"How much longer do I have to pay," she whispered softly.

 

The first thing Mike heard when he finished transferring was the ringing of the doorbell.

"Damn, they are early," Mike said.

Mike went to the door and asked: "Yeah, who are you?"

"Finally. I've been ringing the doorbell for ages. We're from Colonel Tirel," a male voice answered.

Mike opened the door. In front of him stood a tall, burly man, wearing a cape and a hood over his head. There was a carriage with the emblem of the Clan de Graaf beside the road. By the open door of the carriage stood another man of similar build. Another, a skinny, short man sat in the driver's seat.

"Any confirmation that you're from the colonel?" Mike asked him.

"Yes, there is," the man replied and handed Mike an envelope.

"Come in," Mike told him and let him inside. Closing the door, he unsealed the envelope.

"Mike.

I ask you to give the holder of this envelope the remaining amount of your debt.

Tirel."

He read the spell by creating a magical weave and filling it with magical energy. Touching his right eye, Mike saw the signing signature on the letter. It matched the Colonel's signature. Mike pointed to the two bags beside the desk.

"These?" Asked the guest.

"Yes."

The man took both bags. Mike opened the door and escorted him out.

"Have a good day."

"Have a good day."

As soon as the bags were in the carriage, the carriage immediately moved. Mike waited for it to go around the corner and returned to the house. He had a late dinner to get ready for.

 

Twenty minutes later, Mike was ready: tuxedo, lacquered shoes, bowtie, top hat, and long cane. A quarter of an hour later, a carriage with the clan emblem, sent for him in advance by Catherine de Graaf, pulled up to the front door.

"Good evening, sir," the coachman said as Mike approached him.

"Good evening," he answered him.

The coachman hopped down and opened the carriage door.

"Sit down, sir," he said, bowing slightly.

The Clan de Graaf family estate lies in the northern part of the capital, around a small lake. The mansion in the center of the estate is a four-story building. It has 20 bedrooms and 20 bathrooms. Most of the rooms are for guests. Only Catherine de Graaf lives in the mansion all the time. The rest of the clan live in the capital, having either their own estates, like Colonel Tyrell de Graaf, or houses and apartments in residential areas of the capital. The clan mansion is full of guests only when the clan gathers or celebrates. Occasionally a clan member stays at the mansion for a visit. Usually, this happens by a personal invitation of Catherine.

On one side of the mansion is a lake, and on the other is a flower garden with an access road. In the evening, the mansion, as well as the garden, illuminated many lamps.

Mike's carriage stopped at the entrance gate, well-lit by several street lamps. A pair of guards were also on duty here.

"Michael de Graaf at the invitation of the matriarch of the clan," the coachman said to the guards. They nodded affirmatively and then slowly opened the entrance gate. Mike's carriage proceeded to the mansion. A butler and a maid were already waiting for him at the entrance to the mansion. The butler's name, as far as Mike remembered, was Teo. He had served Catherine for over eighty years. At least when Mike was young, Teo had already served her. And Mike could have sworn he looked the same as he did now - slim, trim, middle-aged.

As Mike stepped off the carriage, the butler and maid bowed.

"Good evening, Master de Graaf," the butler greeted him.

"Good to see you, Teo," Mike answered him.

"Madame is expecting you at the banquet house by the lake. Anya will show you out."

Anya, the young maid, bowed to Mike.

"Follow me, master," and led him to the banquet house.

The banquet house is located at the very edge of the lake. It is two stories high. On the first floor is a huge ballroom for guests with high windows. The second floor has a balcony with access to the lake and a dozen rooms for various needs.

The maid led Mike up to the second floor to the balcony, through the empty ballroom. The balcony, like the hall, was well lit, and there was already a table where Catherine and another unfamiliar woman sat.

"Good evening, Mike. Glad you could join us. Have a seat," Catherine said, pointing to his seat on her side.

"Good evening, ladies," bowed Mike and sat down in the seat.

"This is my good acquaintance, Lady Anabelle," Catherine introduced the stranger.

The stranger, Anabelle, looked younger than Catherine and shorter, thin, even frail, with shoulder-length brown hair. Side strands of her hair were pulled back and secured with a hairpin. Her skin color is lighter, olive-colored than Catherine's. She is wearing a short-sleeved dress of light blue, the color of her eyes. But too thin for the night capital. In contrast, Catherine is wearing a deep blue pantsuit.

"Good evening, Michael," Anabelle greeted him.

"Thank you for the invitation, Madam Matriarch, Lady Anabelle."

"You are welcome. It's a mere small thing. And address me by my name, Mike."

"Very well Lady Catherine."

The table at which they sat was not very large-just for four people. The food is not served yet. Only cutlery and wine with glasses are there. The white wine on the table was already half-empty, and Lady Catherine's and Lady Anabelle's glasses were also half-empty.

"Mike, while there is still time before the meal, tell us in detail about your journey to the northern prairie," Lady Catherine asked him.

Mike was about to begin his story but stopped. He then looked first at Lady Anabelle and then at Lady Catherine.

"Mike, you can tell everything in detail," she understood Mike's silent question. "She has my permission to receive classified information. So don't worry, and if anything in the course of your story doesn't make sense to us, we'll ask you."

With an affirmative nod, Mike began his story.

It took him about half an hour.

 "So today I arrived in the capital," Mike finished his story.

Several times Lady Anabelle asked him for details. Lady Catherine only listened. By the end of the story, they had finished the white wine. Mike, too, had drunk it to soak his throat.

"To summarize your story. A third party was carefully and cautiously planning a change in policy and leadership in the tribes of the northern prairies. And not acting directly, but through the Marine Brotherhood and the tribes of the central, and most likely the southern prairies as well. We can assume that there is an alliance or at least some agreement. It's between the Marine Brotherhood and the tribes of the southern and central prairies. The third-party acts as a guarantor and as the main sponsor."

"I don't presume to judge whether that is true, Lady Anabelle," Mike said. "But the possibility of it exists."

Lady Anabel merely smiled at Mike's words.

"In this case, your actions have only delayed rather than solved the problem. In three or four years, ten years at the latest, the next attempt to pull the northern prairies to their side will probably follow. In two years, there will be the first attempts to probe the ground. Unless, of course, your Army and MFA start to behave actively in the northern prairies and leave part of their forces there permanently.

Mike was in complete agreement with her conclusions. In his last report, he wrote a similar opinion. But he was well aware that politics and inter-clan disagreements would interfere. Realistically, not much would be done.

"At the next National Assembly, we will discuss the matter, I hope," Lady Catherine answered her. "But really changing anything will be difficult. A long overland campaign is a little realistic right now. And the navy is now bound by the constant raids of the Marine Brotherhood. We haven't been able to get our spies in there for a long time. It's proven more difficult than spying on the Holy Empire. They simply won't take in outsiders."

"Admit it. You just relaxed. You thought the nomads were harmless brutes and the Marine Brotherhood a bunch of pirates. For two centuries since the last war, you've done nothing," Lady Anabelle told her.

"You are right that the present situation is not without my fault. We may indeed have relaxed a little," Catherine sighed. "Okay, let's not talk about sad things." She clapped her hands three times and said loudly. "Bring the food, because we got a little cold while we were talking, we need to warm up now."

At her command, three servants brought the first course on trays. In a clay pot with a lid, there was hot mushroom soup with sour cream and herbs. And on a separate plate was a hot pastry with minced meat and eggs. They also brought a new bottle of wine.

Mike immediately sensed the delicious smell of food. His stomach rumbled in surprise. Lady Anabel smiled when she heard it, and Catherine furrowed her brow.

The servants poured wine into their glasses. After a small toast, they began their meal. At the same time, they engaged in small talk on various topics. Lady Anabelle was greatly interested in the latest rumors in the capital. Catherine was the one who answered her. Mike only occasionally joined in the conversation.

The soup was quickly consumed. They drank another glass of wine while the servants changed dishes. For the second course change, they brought steamed sterlet with vegetables.

The third course brought baked duck with mushrooms and cranberry sauce in a saucepan.

By this time Mike was feeling full and a little sleepy. But the night was far from over. Dessert was still to come.

And for dessert, they get raspberry tea with honey cookies. Mike did not like sweets, preferring unsweetened tea. Catherine de Graaf, on the other hand, adored sweets and drank sweet tea and cookies with pleasure.