Struggle. Taste of power

Metropolitan

The room in which Guzokh had been staying for the last month was not cramped, even though there was almost no space. It was more than modestly furnished: an oak bed, an oak table and chair, and only one chair. There were a few kerosene candlesticks and a large panel with a picture of the Black Stone on the entire wall.

Guzokh remembered the times he had spent in his cell when he was still a novice in the seminary. He had been studying the ancient rules of the Zhakh and the Silan-Zhakh code, which was still in its infancy and which was destined for a great future.

All the priests had great expectations of how their lives would change when Silan-Zhakh was introduced universally. It would mean the consolidation of the Church's role in all areas of plague life. Then the Holy Inquisition would be able to hold weeks of penance unannounced and more than once a year in the same place, and the guilty could be mercilessly destroyed. In addition, the priest-patriarch and priest-metropolitans will not be able to refuse to visit any place in the plague empire, and no service will be able to prevent an inquest made personally by any of them. Only 7 plagues will be able to wield such power, but still it is a sure step towards fixing the supremacy of the Church. And then we can breathe a sigh of relief that we have finally nipped heresy in the bud. Before it spreads to us all.

Guzokh remembered his prayers then, and piously believed that if he was ever honored to become a Metropolitan Priest, he would certainly not miss a single heretic, and would uphold with dignity the sacred foundations of the Zhakh faith, the belief in the omnipotence of the Black Stone.

Neuroch, now a priest-patriarch, had been a year older than he was, and was characterized by two complementary traits: a tendency to persuade with emotion, and an ability to hold the strings of leadership in his hands. In Guzokh's opinion, however, he did not fully understand the foundations of the faith, but he knew the Code of Silan-Jah, with its new administrative rules and regulations, by heart.

It did not seem strange at the time. Indeed, the Black Stone gave some people the ability to understand the faith and interpret it with reason, others to convince them of its correctness, and others to put it down on paper. The Black Stone gave some of them the ability to understand the faith and interpret it with reason, others to convince them of its correctness, and others to put it on paper.

In time, they even began to rise together in their careers, and Guzokh was even the first to become a metropolitan, and then he helped Nevrokh in this. It seemed very important to him that someone could persuade when real arguments didn't work, when someone simply didn't want to listen to you… Neurokh always had to listen. It always turned out that any conversation, even knowingly useless, turned into a passionate dispute, where Nevroh brought the situation to the boiling point several times and, thus exhausting the opponent, tilted everything in his favor. It was very useful and effective.

Neurochus was given the position of metropolitan priest in charge of the SFC and the higher administration. And at this point he argued and debated. On almost every occasion, trying to sway those around him to allegiance to the new code of Silan-Zhah. But his activities during the weeks of repentance among the SCK looked very strange. It seemed incomprehensible to Guzokh even then. How could you conduct such purges of heresy and not punish almost anyone among the layers of the plagues entrusted to you. It was the lower ranks or those who had already been accused of embezzlement who were at risk. All the powerful rhetoric about a holy campaign against heresy in the SCK for the good of the Black Stone turned out to be a blatant eyewash, at least that's how Guzokh saw it.

He personally knew some of the chums in the SCK apparatus who deserved at least close scrutiny and interrogation because of their open rejection of Silan-Jah in particular and the Jah faith in general. It was as if they didn't consider Jah to be anything important in their lives, much less guided by its principles in general. And Nevrokh had no questions for them. And even his predecessor in one of the cases punished the head of the SCK of the whole column.

And soon Nevrochus became priest-patriarch. The previous patriarch announced that due to his age, he could not fully fulfill his duties and appointed the one who, according to him, deserved it most of all, as he was watching over the sobriety of mind and sanity in our most important circles of the SCK and higher administration, that is Nevrokh… There was nothing to be done about it. Moreover, Guzokh could not oppose such a decision, and then not support Nevrokh in the approval of the patriarch, because once he himself had nominated him for the place of metropolitan. He could only hope that, having become patriarch, he would no longer flirt with someone else on the side.

Now, when Guzokh was in the Krito sector of the Donetsk-Makeyevka group and saw how he was ostentatiously received by the SSK and quietly surrounded on all sides by its agents, it began to seem to him that he had once very much underestimated Nevrokh. The Scekists would never have allowed him to become patriarch, being unsure if it was to their advantage. And when he showed that he would play by their rules and got his place, he started his already hidden war for power with the SCC. All the same hypocritical and despicable, but hardly anyone could think of anything more effective.

And as it happened, Guzokh himself was to be one of the bargaining chips in such a war. On the one hand, it didn't really hurt his feelings – after all, one should always be prepared for something hard when dealing with religion. But on the other hand – it wasn't for Neuroch to decide who to trade. In reality, he's not even worthy of being a priest, let alone a patriarch. He's too overbearing and has absolutely no faith in what he professes publicly. And now Guzoh was already afraid that in time the Church would simply become a new SCK just under a different banner.

The door to the room opened without knocking and Samokh entered. I didn't expect to see him here and now, but on the other hand, when in the whole group "Donetsk-Makeyevka" there were only SCKs left from the chums, it would be logical to assume the appearance of the metropolitan, who is responsible for them.

Samoh closed the door behind him and stared glumly at the décor: the furniture, the blacksmoked candlesticks and panels.

–There's no place to sit down. – Samoh grinned. – I see you're used to it, Brother Priest Guzokh… They couldn't spare me.

–You think too much about material things. – Guzokh saw these open taunts, and they did not offend him at all. – Have you come for a week of penance?

Samokh laughed. And in his laughter and especially in his eyes, it was obvious that he had known for a long time that the deadline for the new week of penance was not yet at hand, and that Guzokh obviously could not have known about it when he had come here. It's all planned out. He's definitely playing along with his patron. And it would be strange if Nevroh put someone in his former position who is not loyal to him. And now his own hands will clean up what he didn't clean up himself, now completely unafraid of the consequences. In case of what happens, he will simply appoint a new metropolitan and will exterminate heresy and everything dissenting in the SCK with renewed vigor.

–Who needs it, this week? No…" Samoh replied. – I'm not here for that. You can keep this private method to yourself… I'm just passing through. I came to see an old friend.

Guzokh was almost twenty-five years older than Samokh, and certainly never considered him a friend. He hadn't seen him in action yet, but the rumors were unequivocal. Samokh hit his opponents rarely, but he hit them hard. Only when he was sure of his complete superiority. A very suitable method against special services.

–So why do you need a more luxurious place to stay than mine if you won't even stay here?

–Because those low-born, empty creatures from the SCK shouldn't even think to behave with me as they please. – Samoh snapped at him. His voice was full of hatred for everything

that not only met, but could even meet on his path. – And you, Honorable Brother Priest Guzokh, should think about that....

After such a heated tirade, his breath cooled a little, he looked again at the panel with the image of the Black Stone and, without turning to his interlocutor, continued:

–How many heretics have you found here?

–Heretics? There's no working class here anymore. Only men work in the mine. The plagues of the imperial army are firm in their faith. And the CCC is already in your charge.

–No one, then… Okay, okay… Let's see how Neuroch likes it.

–Of course we will see… But still I will remind you, my dear brother. That we serve our faith, Zhah. – Guzokh smoothly pointed his hand at the panel. – And our most holy patriarch is but an elder brother.

Samoh stood and tried to sizzle him with a glare. But Guzokh went on:

–It is our sacred duty to strengthen the chums in the faith, not to punish them in vain. It is more profitable to bring back to the Church than to exterminate them. And all those who might stray in the sector of Crito I have firmly established in their faith. Except for the brothers of the CCC, who are beyond my control.

The last word was literally a counter-attack. He, who had just boasted of his courage, could now boldly take on a task with a result worthy of him, and, so to speak, set an example of "proper" work, if there was reason to do so. This made Samoh even more angry:

–You have thought it out well… Good… But you will see how to deal with them

"correctly"… And think very carefully, very carefully. How will you repeat these words when I find the heresy you've overlooked!

–If you find the heresy that I have overlooked, I will be eternally grateful to you, my dear friend… Of course, if it really is heresy and not someone's speculation.

Samoh left the cell, slamming the door. Then came his loud footsteps and a distant scolding at one of the guards.

This is how Guzoch once envisioned Nevroh. The one who would passionately fight the most hidden dangerous heresy in the BCC. Fiercely, openly and implacably. It would seem that this should now be a closed gestalt, but it was nothing of the sort. Neuroch has simply found a hothead and an executioner who will tear and thrash until he is sewn up like a rabid dog, legal or not. The CCC has many methods. And they are clearly more cunning at this point.

Since they have thought of an extraordinary step to hand over the entire Donetsk-Makeyevka group to the people in order to remove all opportunities for inquisition, they will not go backwards now for sure.

Still, it's very interesting to see who they've entrusted it all to. They call him Horus, and he is now the prefect of the seven sectors. I wouldn't think of making any agreements with him, but nobody ever thought of making agreements with the Hiwi. And now it's a force more powerful than the Imperial army. Things change, things change. And certainly, what needs to be changed is the patriarch with someone who is worthy and strong in his faith.

Bolotnikov

-Does anyone take this seriously at all? – Bolotnikov looked at Khmelnitsky, still quite calm. He was really uncomfortable at the thought that Ranierov had not been decimated, and that he and his penalty battalion were one step away from something more dangerous.

–Who cares about that? – Khmelnitsky replied, looking at a poster hanging on the wall with a skull in a beret, their new symbol for a punitive unit. It was pasted on so that the real emblem, the attacking falcon that had once been used to make the trident, was not visible underneath.

–Yeah, of course not. All I cared about was where the informant would be found. Who the informant would be found with. And who that informant will be is a tenth question… But still. Are you sure we got the right guy?

–Sergei, I don't know… All we have is our speculation and information from the Mountain. That Raniere's a jackal is already known to everyone. And the only thing that doesn't add up is his behavior, which doesn't fit the behavior of an informer, who should be quieter than water, lower than grass. But you know… It's quite possible that that was his tactic. He'd get caught, he'd be like, "am I stupid to put myself in harm's way?" So what we got from The Mountain is still out there.

And it looks like nothing's gonna change in the next three days…

The fact that there was an informer in Squad 14 had long been known to the top brass, but the rank and file were fully convinced that there were only friends around. And when Ranierov was sent to the brig, where he had been many times before for drunkenness, most of them had no questions about the reasons. But they did not keep him there longer than three days, and at the end of them it was necessary to decide whether to accuse him officially and tell everyone the truth in order to bring the case to execution, or to let him go as an innocent man, if there was not enough evidence of his guilt.

At the mention of the word "jackal" Bolotnikov immediately recalled his recent conversation with a man who bore the same name. The jackal from Khivi had said that soon Gora would have new mines at his disposal, which meant that his influence would grow disproportionately more than before. He'll be treated very differently. And it will lead to very different results. It is not clear when it will happen, and what the Mountain knows about it. And from this it may follow, whether he has not intentionally leaked to us the one whom we would be glad to kill ourselves, just to make it look the most credible. Like, I did you a favor, acted honestly and in proportion to my strength, so now you do something for me.

And what could the Mountain demand now? They were already doing nothing that would interfere with him in any way. Their sabotage operations were only directed against the plagues and their infrastructure. Though… Things were changing. If people began to set their own punishments and rewards, then the infrastructure must change eventually. And yet the Mountain is silent. He didn't say anything about the recent raids, and especially about the explosion on the outer communication lines, which temporarily stopped the transportation of coal by the shortest route.

Should the Mountain care about that or not?

–Vitya, I have my doubts…" Bolotnikov said. Such behind-the-scenes games were not for him at all, but it was already clear that if he did not participate in them, defeat was inevitable.

Khmelnitsky looked at him questioningly.

–Vitya… About Zubkov, we would never have thought he was such a rat....

Khmelnitsky wrinkled his face – and understandably so, it concerns him most of all:

–No, we never would have thought–

–Gora leaked Ranierov to us. And the facts only point to him. There are no other candidates. No one who has family left at the mine. No one who would have run away in the last few years… At the same time, I know a few people who might fall into this category. I don't have the data he does, of course. But it doesn't add up. We've had a lot of people defect to us, and no one else has any living relatives left in the mine?

Khmelnitsky stood silent, unblinking. It was unclear whether he liked such words or not.

The major continued:

–Remember that girl. Maria. The one who escaped from the mine six months ago, and they asked us to find her. We didn't. That's what we told them. But that doesn't mean she's dead. And her father, by the way, is a deputy foreman… We have another candidate who escaped from the mine, leaving her family alive. I'm not saying anything about her, but Gora said clearly – he has no other options but Ranierov for the role of a snitch… How can you be so unambiguous?

–Sergei, you know… you're fucking with me. – Khmelnitsky said calmly. – I'm sick of defending this asshole. Tell me straight, do you think that Ranierov does not deserve the death penalty for what he did?

–What does that have to do with it? If he deserved to be punished for his past, then he should have been executed.

–I should have. But they didn't. And then they regretted it, but it was too late.

–So now we're supposed to execute him for something he didn't do? And let the real informant walk free? And snitch on us all he wants?

–One. Raniere deserved it a long time ago. Two. A real informant, if there is one, will only relax if we catch him. And then he'll be easier to catch. Three. If you want to do your lawyering, you and Zhivenko should do it together. He fucks me up as much as you do. And fourth and finally. I'm no longer the commander in chief here, I'm just the commander of a punishment unit. If I wanted to do something, I don't have the authority to do it. Zubkov got his way, so he's the one who's gonna have to deal with this shit.

All short and to the point. Yes, possessing exactly these qualities Khmelnitsky once became the leader of "Detachment 14", and then also absorbed the surrounding independent units, making "Detachment 14" the largest among all the Maquis of the Slavic Column.

Dima, Misha Zhivenko's new deputy, rumbled into the house. Since the recent shooting and the capture of the prisoner from the Khivi, he had only become more active in moving his legs and moving his brain more actively, as if he had been given a second life to make things right. Now he wasn't even out of breath, though it was obvious that he had been running from afar:

–There was an ambush. Near the Deese sector.

–An ambush? – Khmelnitsky waggled his eyebrow in surprise. They were preparing an ambush, counting on the fact that the plagues would begin to repair the recently blown up roads, and thus it would be possible not only to postpone the repair work, but also to inflict new damage in manpower.

–Hiwi. They discovered our positions, and attacked at the same time… Only nothing came back, ten men.

Ancient Roman military rule – "If an ambush is detected in time, you can do more damage than what those who were preparing the ambush were going to do. And so it was. Two companies were lost almost entirely. And where the Maquis positions were particularly strong. This goddamn Deez sector is a tricky one.

Prefect

There's no such thing as too much power. No, there's no such thing as too much. And you especially realize that when you get more. Gora had thought about these things a long time ago, when he had been pondering the structure of the Chum Empire. It seemed to him that everyone there reveled in power and had no conscious ability to stop. Back then, he had considered that a weakness. Now he considered it a weakness that they couldn't hold power properly, especially in one hand.

That's the most important thing. One goal, one head, one leader. There was something about that slogan. Something long forgotten, but eerily similar. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's got it all now. And he knows how to handle it.

Gora walked along his office. It was now much richer than it had been before: a cabinet at the entrance with machine guns, ammunition, and grenades, a second cabinet in the corner with documents and clothing, a nightstand near the desk where he kept his current necessities, a large flag with a crossed axe and pickaxe under a large white fang on a black background-the new symbol of the Prefectorate. On top of that, he had another room cut into the depths, where he now slept. Three of Tikhomirov's security detail were always on duty near the entrance.

Tikhomirov already had three subdivisions: a "security" unit for the safety of individuals, a GRB (rapid response group) to prevent possible riots or attacks from outside, and an "assault" unit for possible future occupation of new positions. How to use the assault team hasn't even crossed my mind yet – the plague will give as much as they give. But still I wanted more and wanted to take it by force. It was only important to wait for the time to do it.

Yeah, none of that existed just three months ago. And now there are seven mines in subordination, and the paths between them, and the infrastructure on the surface, and even has its own army, although very hidden from prying eyes.

Hora realized that if he had not once surrendered the Bulgarians before their revolt, if he had not come with a bow to the plagues, and nothing like this would have happened. But even that was not enough. It was necessary not only to prove his loyalty to the plague empire, it was also necessary that it was convincing.

There it is. Power. And it must be held not with strong hands, but with a far-sighted mind. That's the only way it can be solid and lead to something. When it's done strategically. Then you can be sure that it won't evaporate the next day or slip through your fingers like sand. You're only sure when it's strategically calibrated. And those fools who once held it by brute force didn't realize one simple thing – they could quietly succeed in front of ordinary people, but inside the system it doesn't work. Only calculation works within the system.

So far, only Tikhomirov understands that. This is what his son Rafael should have been. Intelligent, calculating, restrained. And not a stupid strong-willed romantic who wants a better life for his family and rushes headlong into new obstacles. How did it end? There is no Raphael now…

And there is power. And there will be more. You just have to get the math right.

This morning he received a letter. A very strange and equally interesting letter. It was from a plague, apparently a priest of the Church, who introduced himself as a faithful adherent of the Zhakh faith, as he called himself:

"To Mr. Prefect.

I am writing in your Russian language so as not to waste your time on translations.

Congratulations on your new acquisitions. The six new mines are very valuable and will do you good service, I'm sure. And for my part, as a staunch adherent of the Jah faith, I have nothing against it.

Moreover, I am even ready to support this decision. And in the future, if we succeed, I am ready to give you disproportionately greater influence and territories under your control. You understand the territory I'm talking about.

As my contribution to our long term relationship and first step, I will give you a small gift.

I'll help you keep your place and your current, I'm not afraid of the word, gains. With a kind word.

Which you won't be without in the next few days.

The good word is in the information you will receive in this letter.

Metropolitan Samoh will be raiding one of your subordinate sectors the other day. Not the one you've settled in personally. But a neighboring sector. He's trying out his forces, so to speak.

Neither the imperial army nor the SCIU will offer him any resistance.

But his ultimate goal is right next to you. And a week or two later, he'll show up with a raid on you. Believe me, he's not interested in you personally. He's after the high-ranking plagues of the CCC. But when he deals with them, you can be sure that your achievements will be nullified soon and everything will go back to the way it was before.

Now you are aware of the danger ahead of you. I have no doubt that you will find the right solution and come out of all this victorious.

Upon reading it, burn this letter. And I hope that my help will make you from a human prefect to a Mr. Prefect respecting the holy faith of Jah."

He didn't burn the letter, of course. How could such a thing be burned. It might still be useful, and there were a thousand ways of doing it… The person who wrote it was evidently very much afraid that it might fall into the wrong hands. So much so that he didn't even write it in the plague language. That nice remark that he didn't want to waste a person's time translating is nothing more than a basic digression to confuse.