Constantly helping people escape from the lands conquered by the Arabiya, Lyn had to admit that Liora had a point. He wouldn’t go as far as calling it the end times, but yeah, the conquerors seemed hell-bent on sweeping through every last stretch of land all the way to the Ind and the Empire of Chin — and there was no guarantee they’d be stopped even there.

Sure, in a generation or two, the children born in those lands might no longer have golden, brown, or red hair, with green or blue eyes. Instead, they’d all be dark-skinned, black-haired. Their names wouldn’t be Sughdian or Turkic anymore; they’d become Ali, Ahmed, something else entirely. But so what? Did it really matter what names people carried, which temples they prayed in? The gods weren’t real anyway. They didn’t care.

What was worse was that Arabiya would claim the scientific and artistic achievements of the lands they conquered — at least the ones they didn’t manage to obliterate. The world would come to see their knowledge as the pinnacle of wisdom when, in reality, it would just be the dust of Persian and Hellenistic culture, repackaged. But was that really worth drowning the world in blood? Sure, much would be lost, forgotten — but then people would start building again, if only because there’d be nothing left to destroy. The important thing was to ensure that there were still people left to do the rebuilding.

Valeria, for her part, betrayed no stance — neither in words nor in gestures. Every argument, no matter the side, was met with the same piercing stare and heavy silence. Shame the Council members were made of sterner stuff than to sweat or stumble under pressure.

She finally turned her gaze on Julius.

“Well? How are things with army supplies? How fortified are our strongholds? Can we even afford a war?”

“The army’s decently funded, everything is… in a relatively good state,” Julius said, dragging out the words just enough to imply a “but.” “Of course, money is always needed for reinforcements, for defenses…” He shot a meaningful glance at Andromache. “If we keep twiddling our thumbs like this, in ten years, Bizanth will be surrounded on all sides!”

“Oh, by the way,” Andromache perked up. “Speaking of reinforcements — last time, you requested funds for strengthening the southern fortresses. From what I hear, though, they’re still in disgraceful condition. And those funds? Nowhere to be found in the treasury. So where did they go?”

“Lies! Absolute slander!” Julius turned red. “These accusations are baseless!”

“You mentioned trade issues…” Patroclus suddenly spoke up, turning to Severian. “That reminds me — last autumn, those grain silos in the Great City mysteriously caught fire. That grain was supposed to bring the capital a pretty profit. And funny thing, people were saying it had been carted away just before the blaze broke out. Of course, just rumors. And then there’s the growing number of caravans being stopped at the city gates… Something about tax misunderstandings? Am I right?”

“Ah yes, those misunderstandings,” Andromache added with a polite smile. “I wonder if we could clear them up by digging through the financial records.”

The Eparch of the Great City clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re implying… But yes, those were just misunderstandings! And you think because of these… inconveniences, we should sit here and wait for the Caliphate to trample us?”

“Enough.”

Valeria’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a blade.

Silence fell. She slowly scanned the council, then leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers under her chin.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve heard your opinions — speeches about justice and saving civilization, accusations of cowardice and greed. I don’t deny the growing threat, nor the possibility of war. But first, I propose we sort out the mess within our own borders. Otherwise, we won’t have a country worth fighting for.”

No one spoke.

“The matter of war is closed,” Valeria concluded, her voice steady. “At least until we get our own house in order.”

And wisely, she didn’t ask for their agreement — because she wouldn’t have gotten it. They despised her, or they hated her, or they were constantly weighing and calculating their next move. But for now, she was still the one sitting on the throne.

She stood, signaling the meeting’s end. The council members grumbled but didn’t object. One by one, they left the hall.

Thank God — though He doesn’t exist. The circus was finally over, and Lyn was free. Now, he had a date.

He was planning to take Narseh on a walk through Avantika, a city in the land of Ind, where he had spent a couple of months when he first started traveling the world in search of himself. In the next few days, they were celebrating the arrival of spring there.

He had already given Silverback instructions to take Narseh there ahead of time. They had agreed to meet in the evening, but, miraculously, the Council meeting hadn’t dragged on as long as Lyn had feared. That meant he still had a couple of free hours. He could finally get a proper meal... though, honestly, sleep would be even better.

Unfortunately, that’s when Valeria said, addressing Lyn,

“I’d like you to stay for a moment.”

After the last of the Council members left, Valeria slumped back onto her throne.

“You were convincing,” Lyn smirked, “Even I almost bought your whole ‘neutral’ act. You like being the smartest person in the room, don’t you?”

“It’s not that I like it,” Valeria replied dryly. “It’s that I have to be. Having an opinion, feeling anything — it’s a weakness. Show even the smallest vulnerable spot, and someone will shove a dagger straight into it.”

She leaned back and propped her feet up on the table, just like Lyn had done at the beginning of the meeting. Lyn considered it for a second and then did the same. This time, she didn’t scold him.

“How do men so casually decide to send thousands to their deaths?” she asked, her voice thick with frustrated anger. Right before Lyn’s eyes, the cold mask was slipping, revealing the passionate, fiery woman his friend loved. The transformation was mesmerizing. “That kind of power should only belong to those who understand what it takes to bring life into this world...”

“Yeah, don’t say that out loud in a meeting,” Lyn advised. “Constantine will launch into another speech about ‘female sentimentality.’”

“I know.” Valeria let out a sharp breath. “Gods, I’m so angry! A pack of greedy bastards. Each of them just hoping that war will funnel more money into their own department… Sometimes I swear I could strangle them all with my bare hands.” She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. “‘The end of civilization,’” she repeated bitterly. “What civilization? This world is already rotting from the inside out. To prevent war, to achieve anything good or just, you have to play the biggest, meanest wolf in the room, or you have to wear the mask of indifference. And is it even a mask? Sometimes I wonder if, in the end, we all become what we fear and hate the most. I look in the mirror and see my father’s face.”

At that moment, Lyn found himself thinking that, for all the horrors the Red Emperor had inflicted on the world, he had at least done one good thing: he had raised a daughter who wasn’t afraid to do whatever the hell she wanted. Ride wherever she pleased, wear what was comfortable instead of what was prescribed, laugh loudly, climb trees — and dare to dream of reshaping the world to her liking. Even if that meant pretending, sometimes, to be someone else. Someone crueler, colder.

“Nah,” Lyn muttered, because there were moments — fleeting but undeniable — when Valeria did remind him of the Red Emperor. Just... an improved version. “If you ever truly become the biggest, meanest wolf in the room, that means you lost. That the world finally broke you. And you’re not going to let that happen. You’ll be smarter. More creative. You’ll curse and rage, but you’ll keep trying to change things.”

Valeria opened her eyes and looked at him.

“You think too highly of me,” she said quietly. “You know, Lyn, I put on such a convincing act because I’m not sure. Not sure that this war is unnecessary. The Arabiya terrify me as much as they does the others. I don’t see the point in striking first — but doing nothing is terrifying too. We know too little about them. You were in their conquered cities… Honestly, I was hoping you’d learned something useful. I don’t believe in their Caliph’s divinity or the immortality of his warriors. But maybe they have some kind of powerful secret magic?”

Lyn shook his head. “I know about as much as Stephan already told you.”

“You said it yourself: gods don’t exist, only people pretending to act in their name. And that leads us to the real question — what do these followers of Alla actually want?” Valeria leaned forward. “That, Lyn, is a much harder question than it seems. Not long ago, Arabiya was a tiny, primitive tribe living on the driest, most inhospitable scrap of the desert. Now, they’ve conquered countless rich lands… but they don’t settle there, as you’d expect. They just keep moving forward, expanding their armies, wiping out one city after another, forcing everyone into their religion, making their women birth them more and more soldiers. What’s their endgame?”

“Yeah, I’ve wondered what drives their soldiers,” Lyn admitted. “I’ve heard they’re not even allowed to take land for themselves in the conquered territories. And usually, when someone marches off to war, they expect to bring something back — though more often than not, they just end up delirious with booze or legless on the church steps with a beggar’s cup. But the Arabiya… yeah, that’s weird.”

“And another thing,” Valeria continued, “Even the cruelest, most oppressive regimes still need educated people — just to function, to avoid falling behind their neighbors. Even during my father’s worst purges, when all magic was outlawed, we still had the Magisterium. But Arabiya doesn’t care. They’re not just hunting down mages — they’re wiping out ordinary scholars, scribes, anyone who can so much as read…” She exhaled. “It makes no sense.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that endless conquest itself is some great mystery,” Lyn pointed out. “Look at your father. Or your famous ancestor, the great Alexander — who, sure, spread Hellenic culture all the way to Ind, but let’s be real, he wasn’t exactly driven by a noble mission to civilize the world. He just had a massive ego.”

“You’re talking about conquests led by individuals,” Valeria countered. “Once they die, their empires crumble — or at the very least, shift dramatically. But the political course of the Caliphate hasn’t changed, even though the so-called prophet is long dead and several caliphs have come and gone. That’s what’s strange. If I believed in gods, I’d say some malevolent divine force has been guiding them. Maybe their Alla really does protect them, as they claim?” She tried to smirk, but it came out crooked.

Lyn smirked back. “There are no gods. There’s just science — ordinary or magical — and then there’s fear and a good story.”

Valeria fell silent, thoughtful.

“Then we need to figure out which of those three is fueling them.”

Lyn nodded solemnly. He let the gravity of the moment settle. Probably not the best timing, but...

“Also, on a completely unrelated note — on a scale of one to ten, how inappropriate would it be to ask if there’s a room in this palace where an Archon could crash for, say, a couple of hours? If a bed is too much to ask, I’d settle for a small couch. Honestly, any horizontal surface would do.”