Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон

— All the more reason for you to tell me everything you know about Ananhr.

— With all due respect, Your Eminence, she's no match for you… She's no match for Neuroch, either, if you must hear it… Her older brother….

— I don't care about her older brother! — The inquisitor interrupted him somewhat angrily. — She has the entire Donetsk-Makeyevka group under her supervision now. And that's all I care about… What forces does she have?

Bazanhr mewled a little:

— She is guarded by a personal drill. I know the chums who serve in it, and I will tell you that they are as much about professionalism as they are about brutality. Otherwise it would be more than one Boer… Besides, the neighborhood is kept under control by the Hiwi.

— Who recently ambushed two Maquis companies. That I know… So only one drill of personal guards. I take it it's from the Guards… Yeah, not bad… How interested are the local chiwi in her?

— They don't know who she is. But they've been made to understand that no Maquis or anyone else is allowed near her. Not without her permission. And that the price for their mistake would be exorbitant… So without her permission, the chiwi won't let you in….

But you let all of mine through with your permission, didn't you?

— That is correct, Your Eminence…..

Samoh smiled:

— All right… Let's forget about this conversation… I think only friendly relations are ahead of us. I won't hide it, I see in you a great leadership ability and a plague worthy of our faith.

Otherwise, we would have had a very different conversation….

This seemed to have a strong effect on Bazankhra, and he relaxed somewhat.

— I'd like to have a drink with you. — said Samokh. — To our friendship.

Bazankhr, as if he had expected something like this, took a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the chest of drawers, poured them both, and, waiting until he could clink them together, drank them in one gulp. His eyes instantly became full of fresh colors of his surroundings, he obviously felt saved to some extent — if only such a picture with the arrived thugs from the Inquisition….

— Let's have another round. — Samokh pointed to the glasses.

Bazankhr immediately poured more brandy, and immediately, again barely waiting for the priest to take a drink, drank it in one gulp. Then he sprawled slightly in his chair:

— You know, Your Eminence… Still, you guys are tough, in the Church… I didn't realize you had units like this….

— We have a lot, Colonel. We just don't show it because we hope the people of our empire will be reasonable.

— What prudence can this cattle have… You do realize, Your Eminence, that without laws and penalties for its violation, there will be no order….

— Let's have another one…

Bazankhr smiled a slightly drunken smile. He was beginning to like the way he could raise a glass with the Metropolitan. Samokh was ahead of him, took the bottle by the neck and poured more for each of them. Without waiting for the inquisitor to take his own, Samokh drank to the bottom.

They sat for another fifteen minutes in a spirit of similar brotherly conversation. Bazankhr talked about his successes, clearly extolling his own abilities and the successful combinations that had brought him to the chair of such a high-level superior. His grandfather and father were quite pleased with him, and thought he was progressing ahead of schedule. He did not think of a wife or children at all, for at this stage they would only be a burden and would prevent him from growing further. He had not had much contact with the Church up to this point, and his main task was administrative functions in the management of fairly quiet areas of the empire, where there was contact with the Maquis. Thus, on paper, he had a very significant track record, without jeopardizing either his safety or the potential for failure. Samokh listened with satisfaction and occasionally praised his interlocutor for his moderation and reasonableness.

— Well, Colonel… — Samokh finally announced. — It was a pleasure to talk to you. I can only wish you further success….

He carefully stood up and swung his hand lightly:

— May our great Black Stone bless your service and keep you from making any mistakes…. Bazankhr was obviously very satisfied to overcome all these difficulties and to receive the Metropolitan's blessing at the end.

Samoh moved toward the exit, followed by his novices, but almost reaching the door, he turned around abruptly:

— Ah yes, Colonel, still find a decent place for a chapel in your establishment…..

— Of course, Your Eminence…

— She wasn't there before I got there. You organized it in no time.

— Yes, we wanted to please you….

— What was there before, if it's no secret? A closet?

— Oh, I should hate to say, Your Eminence," said the Colonel, smiling still more.

— All right…" the inquisitor calmly waved his hand at that.

That's where the garbage was stored before it was taken to the dump… The darkest room,so it wouldn't rot in the sun…

— HERESY!!! — wailed the inquisitor, raising a menacing forefinger at the SS. -

SACRILEGE!!! To desecrate the holy Church in such a manner. Seize him! — Samoh essentially waited for the confession that the chapel had been made without the authorization of an adherent of the Holy See and, not only that, it had been made in a lagoon.

Six novices rushed to the colonel and twisted him. He tried to say something and even fight back, but it was obvious that his hands were not obeying him, and after a couple of seconds he mumbled something to his deputy… Who stood there and did nothing. It was obvious that in this situation he would not mind to see his chief being grabbed and dragged away somewhere, and he would be