Vologda Principality Near Belozersk The life of Yevgeny Vigov, simply known in certain circles as Wig, had recently taken a turn that few would have expected. He was not one accustomed to attracting police attention.
His father had laid a sturdy foundation through his own business, which the grateful son had not only preserved but also dramatically expanded. Long ago, Yevgeny's father dreamed of creating a private mercenary squad, and he had laid the groundwork for it. Yevgeny saw it through to the end, completing what his father had begun, handling everything with professionalism and precision. And totally legally, of course.
He established an office in the bustling commercial district of Belozersk and managed to secure official recognition for his Mighty Wolves as a legitimate guild of mercenaries by forging the necessary connections where they were needed, ensuring the smooth operation of his enterprise.
All that was left was to enjoy life. And that was exactly what he did.
Without a care in the world, gaining some extra weight and health issues along the way, all while indulging in unrestrained drinking and gluttony. He had no intention of making any changes.
All seemed well, until one strange incident led to another and shattered his routine and threw him into a frenzy. Even his resilient nerves couldn't handle it.
First, some damned sons of bitches stole from his personal stash, something he regarded as a family heirloom. Learning of the theft, he was struck with shock. For several minutes, he simply stood there, trying to process the news, raving like a madman.
How? A flood of questions burst forth in an overwhelming storm of doubt and suspicion. Who dared to commit such audacity? Who even knew about this place, and where did they come from if he was the sole bearer of that secret? Was he being followed, watched from the shadows?
And that was only the beginning. Someone had taken out his beloved guardian. It wasn't easy to bring down a well-fed Distortion beast.
Then there was the circumstance that had first brought all this chaos to his attention. The police had shown up at his door, laying out stolen jewelry from his treasure vault and bombarding him with questions.
What connection did he have with those trinkets? Where did that signet ring come from?
It was enough to drive a man to madness, this absurd labyrinth of chaos and deception.
Yevgeny was willing to accept the possibility that someone had stolen his treasure. After all, in the treacherous world of underground dealings, valuables changed hands as easily as the wind shifted direction.
The real question was: who had done it? One of his "old friends"? A current competitor? Were they trying to set him up, to have him locked away for his clandestine operations?
It was entirely plausible. Schemes like that were typical in the ruthless world of shady dealings.
But why hand everything over to the police when they could have kept a sizable portion for themselves? Unless, of course, they feared being tied to the crime later...
All those questions swirled in his mind like bothersome dung flies, gnawing at his patience and choking out even the faintest trace of peace. He knew he had no choice but to act quickly, to seek answers and make decisions before his sanity slipped away entirely.
There was one person who might actually be of help — someone who knew the inner workings of the Belozersk police. A clever, resourceful young man named Yegor Mordukhin, whom he paid monthly for all kinds of valuable information.
But today, something was off. He was late. Yevgeny checked his watch, brow tightening. Already half an hour behind schedule...
Could it be that, given recent events, Yegor decided to blow him off? Who knew what had been stirring in their damned police force lately...
Yevgeny snorted, wiping his thick neck with a handkerchief, thinking of calling his contact and giving him a what for, when Yegor's car veered off the highway and crept slowly toward their meeting spot.
A young man stepped out of the vehicle, nodded politely at Yevgeny, and shrugged with casual nonchalance.
"Sorry, Wig. Duty called. I couldn't get away earlier."
"You've got a phone, don't you?" Wig muttered, though inside, a faint sense of relief washed over him. "Normally, people let you know when they're running late."
The policeman said nothing, silently making his way toward the fallen tree they used as a makeshift bench. Yevgeny approached him and, with a heavy sigh, sank down beside him. Silence settled over the two, thick and heavy.
"Well? Why did you call me?" Yegor prompted at last, his tone calm but insistent. "I'm kind of on duty right now and need to get to the office.
I've got work to do."
"You ask some strange questions, lieutenant," Yevgeny said with a smirk, a trace of amusement on his lips. "As if you don't already know why I reached out."
"I don't have the luxury of guessing," he shot back. "Just tell it to me straight. Or do you think I've got time to untangle riddles with you?"
"Alright then, answer me this: have you heard that your buddies paid me a visit recently?"
"Yeah." Yegor nodded without hesitation. "Of course I did.
Vorobyev and Morozov are handling your case."
"Handling my case... Even that sounds awful." Yevgeny shook his head, a mix of disbelief and weariness on his face. "Just what I needed."
"What can you do? Life's a tricky, unpredictable game. Anything can happen at any moment. Especially in your situation. You know what they say: the only sure thing about luck is that it changes."
"Spare me the philosophical bullshit, Yegor." Yevgeny grimaced, a shiver running down his sweaty spine. "I hate change. It's never for the better."
He didn't want to entertain the idea that his life could take a drastic turn, one that would leave him worse off than before.
"I need help, Yegor," he said. "I won't begrudge a single ruble. You know I'm not a greedy man."
"I've got no objections," the policeman replied with a faint smile.
"I've never refused you before. So, how exactly can I help you, Wig? From what I've heard, the trinkets from that treasury are soaked in blood, all kinds of it. The rings alone are worth a fortune. And then there's all the other junk that used to belong to mercenaries from different squads. Back then, they filed reports claiming those things were stolen. If the authorities manage to trace any of it back to you... I've got a feeling they'll tear you apart."
"Save it." Yevgeny shifted his hefty backside on the logs. "If they manage is the key phrase. For now, that's still anyone's guess. They'll need to prove I've got any connection to those trinkets."
"You're right. Proving it won't be easy. Let's just hope they don't dig too deep."
"You won't turn me in, will you?"
"Me? No. As for others, I can't say." Yegor nudged a dry branch with his finger. "Once the investigation starts, all sorts of rumors might start spreading..."
"I think someone specific is trying to frame me. I want to catch them before all this chaos kicks off."
"Anything's possible. You folk are like rabid dogs, tearing each other apart over magical crystals," Yegor scoffed. "These days, mercenaries are crawling around like cockroaches."
"We're contributing to society, if you didn't know," Yevgeny stated.
"You've probably never set foot in a Distortion, have you?"
"And you have, have you?" Yegor scoffed. "Wandering around Distortions isn't really my style. I get decent pay at my job."
"No, I haven't," Yevgeny muttered. "I've got no business there. I don't have a Gift. That's just not for me. I've got people who are willing to take those risks and handle that kind of work."
"That's true..." Yegor nodded thoughtfully. "You've put together quite a formidable team. And that might be exactly why there'll always be someone looking to settle a score with you."
"Then help me track down the asshole trying to frame me," Yevgeny said with a grim resolve.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Yegor inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"First, find out how those rings ended up in your police station.
Someone must have brought them in."
"You really think that'll help you?" Yegor asked and burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?" Yevgeny snapped.
"A little girl brought us a note, revealing exactly where that junk was buried. We went and retrieved it."
"What girl?" Yevgeny frowned, suspicion creeping into his voice.
"A tiny thing, maybe six or seven years old." Yegor chuckled.
"Morozov and I couldn't stop laughing. Soon, kids will be catching bandits instead of us."
"Yeah. Very funny," Yevgeny muttered, shifting restlessly on the log. "And who gave her that note? Did you ask?"
"Calm down, Yevgeny," Yegor said, stopping his laughter. "I know people call cops dumb, but we're not that dumb. Of course we asked. She said some old man gave it to her. You want us to question every old man in Belozersk?"
"Of course not," Yevgeny snarled, spitting to the side. "But you've got cameras, right? Can you get me a photo of that girl?"
"I can, but why? Are you planning to track down a child?"
"I am," Yevgeny growled, his voice low and firm. "And I will find her. Mark my words. Both the girl and that bastard."
*** "Serpent Order?" Alexey repeated, raising an eyebrow in surprise as he looked at me.
"Yeah? What, did I say something wrong?"
"No, everything's perfectly fine..."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Where did you even hear about it?"
"In the school park," I said. "I was sitting on a bench in the hedge maze when I overheard two guys talking about me, going on about my duel with Bubnov. Then one of them said it'd be great to have someone like me in the Serpent Order. So, what is this Order, anyway?"
Alexey shook his head and suddenly burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm honestly in shock, Temnikov," he said, grinning as he slapped his thighs and wiped away tears of laughter. "Don't take it the wrong way.
This is genuinely hilarious. You're already a walking disaster, drawing trouble like a magnet and wearing your adventures like a badge of honor.
You really are something else."
"Care to answer my question? Because you're only making me more curious."
"That's exactly what I meant," he said, finally pulling himself together. "I don't really believe the Serpent Order exists. But there's talk.
Anyway, have you seen the noticeboard near the dorm?"
"Yeah, Gromov showed it to me. There's a similar one by the main building as well," I responded. "He mentioned that sometimes local folks offer side jobs for students."
"Have you ever really taken a good look at it?"
"Why?"
"Just curious," he said with a grin. "Most of the tasks aren't too complicated, but some are actually pretty intriguing. There are similar boards in Belozersk and Dubravino." He leaned in a little. "The assignments there are more entertaining, and the pay is much better. You won't find challenges like that on our board."
"Why not?"
"Isn't it obvious? The school encourages practical work, but they're also responsible for us. Not every job gets approved."
"Like?"
"Well, take the Serpent Order you're asking about. They say it's made up entirely of senior students from Kitezh, and that they're unofficially involved in taking contracts on monsters that escape from the Distortions," Alexey said with a shrug. "Personally, I don't buy it, but that's the rumor."
What a captivating revelation.
Dorian, who had been dozing off until this moment, suddenly became genuinely interested in our conversation.
"Why don't you believe it exists? What's so unbelievable about that?"
"It's silly," he said with a shrug. "I get it. People want money and fame. But it's dangerous. You could lose your life out there. I don't think anyone's intentionally getting involved in it. It's much more likely that some thrill-seeking idiots think themselves monster hunters."
"Monster hunters?"
"Yeah. That's what the guys who hunt Distortion creatures call themselves," Alexey explained. "There are a few institutes for it. There's even an academy in Belozersk called Black Ivy. That's where they train.
Whole bunch of lunatics, if you ask me."
What a fantastic evening this was turning out to be. I acquired a new artifact and learned so many incredible things!
"I bet it's a fascinating place, Black Ivy..."
"Dunno." Alexey shrugged. "Then again, knowing you, you'd like it. After all, your head's not exactly screwed on right. But don't get too excited. You're still way too young to join."
He had a point there. Things just couldn't be easy, could they? But curiosity was gnawing at me! And my interest in the Serpent Order remained unchanged.
"Do they often find students dead?"
"Not often, but it happens. I told you. Trouble often finds thrill-seekers. I think there's no actual order, just a bunch of kids playing pretend.
I wouldn't think about it too much if I were you."
It was intriguing enough to warrant deeper investigation...
"The teachers don't approve of this, I assume?"
"They definitely won't be giving you a pat on the back." Alexey chuckled. "Alright, Mr. Hunter, let's get moving. Our taxi's here."
What a fascinating story, Dorian said thoughtfully. Quite intriguing. Finally, boy, we can cash in on my ability to sense these wretched things...
I wasn't quite as enthusiastic. We were still missing too many details to make any concrete plans. But this was definitely worth pondering.
On our return journey, we took a taxi to Belozersk, and then another one to Kitezh. Alexey was determined to avoid unnecessary questions at all costs.
Throughout the ride back, my thoughts kept returning to our conversation about the Serpent Order and the monster hunters. I was eager to learn more about this mysterious subject, but I had no idea where to begin.
We arrived at the school close to midnight, which was an obvious breach of the rules. As a result, we couldn't dodge an encounter with the patrolling prefects.
They recorded our names in a special log for rule-breakers, which meant that tomorrow we'd face the inevitable punishment from Gromov. I'd never been disciplined before, but Alexey's disapproving face told me not to expect anything pleasant.
Alexey was dismissed first, but when my turn came, two prefects followed close behind. Judging by the numbers on their jackets, they were fourth-year students from the Nature Class, unofficially known as the Maple Class. We called them "foresters" because of the green maple leaf on their emblem. I couldn't help but wonder what they wanted with me.
Halfway to my room, I suddenly heard the quickening of footsteps behind me.
"What do you want?" I asked, turning around.
At that moment, one of them delivered a sharp blow to my stomach.
For a fleeting second, I was caught off guard, the wind knocked out of me, and breathing became a struggle. Fortunately, no further punches followed.
"Not as tough as they say, are you?" one of them whispered ominously above me. "You really think you can come and go as you please?
Think you're some kind of star? Rules apply to everyone, you little runt.
Consider this a lesson in caution."
Instead of replying, I spat on the floor and drew a deep breath. I could breathe again.
I fixed my gaze on the backs of the retreating bullies and clenched my teeth.
"Little runt," huh?
Oh, I'd show them...
*** Kitezh High School of Magic Headmaster's Office Ivan's morning had seldom begun so badly. He was rereading the report penned for him by the Maple homeroom teacher, unable to grasp how they had spiraled into chaos.
It was all rather peculiar. According to the report, the two fourth-year students on night duty had inexplicably gone mad, running wild across the school grounds, desperately trying to escape from some mythical demon that no one else seemed to see. What truly transpired and why it happened remained an unsolved mystery, shrouded in confusion.
According to the report from the infirmary, no foreign substances were detected in the students' bloodstreams — no alcohol, no narcotics, no psychotropic drugs whatsoever.
The boys were administered sedatives and soon fell asleep, but each time, only for a fleeting hour. After that, their eyes would flutter open, and the nightmare would recommence. Fear would seize them. They'd tremble uncontrollably, beads of sweat forming on their brows as they begged desperately to be hidden away somewhere far, far from the reach of the demons. Even a cellar would suffice, as long as it kept those malevolent entities from getting to them.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"Yes?"
His secretary, Mrs. Lvovna, peeked cautiously into the office.
"Mr. Borisov would like to see you. He says it's regarding the incident last night."
"Let him in."
The master-guard entered, clutching a sheet of paper in his hands.
"Yes, Egor?"
"Sir. I've decided to carry out a small investigation, and just to be thorough, I checked the disciplinary log maintained by those unfortunate students yesterday."
"And what did you discover?"
Egor approached the desk and handed Ivan the sheet of paper.
"I made a photocopy of the record. Naryshkin and Temnikov arrived around midnight last night. A clear violation of the rules. The prefects had a chat with them..."