“Not now…!”

  There was a groan, followed by the grumble of thunder that echoed from above. Rinvar didn’t think it was about to happen this early—and he was caught by it while passing through the open grounds of a small park.

  A jagged fork of lightning was seen from afar; the first drops of rain began falling in a mist-like consistency. There was no shade in sight, save for a clump of beech and willow trees that were at the other end of the path. Rinvar could now feel the drops tapping on his shoulders; it wouldn’t be long before the rain was strong enough to soak him wet.

  Rinvar hardly liked going to Rinaldo’s, but through a sick twist of divine humor—or part of the Creator’s punishment—his was the only restaurant that remained open for business. If there was anything to laud about the establishment was its consistency: whether in a festive season or through a city-wide disaster, its food and drink tasted the same. Imperial meal rations were not much of a delight; hardly a competition.

  Elena, and to a lesser extent, Farin, would have to make do with bread and some smoked meat.

  His soles were making squelches against the earth on his way to get shelter – or at least a shade that would let him wait out the pour. He found such a place in the form of a dried-out well with a large enough roof. Rinvar went near the center of the hole where the shade formed a shadow above his body. Another roll of thunder signaled the clouds to unload all of their contents to the earth; drops of water began beating down on the ground, taking some particles of dust and mud elsewhere.

  Patches of brown slowly dissolved into lighter shades of tan until only the silver film of water was seen on the surface. Sounds of dripping, dropping, and flowing water rushed to his ears—so much that the captain’s head almost felt moist. His hand reached out for his right pant pocket and pulled out a chained watch.

  “From how this rain is going to turn out, it is going to be a while before I can get back...”

  He slid the watch back into his coat, watching the pour drench everything below the sky. Rinvar should have known better, but Rinaldo’s ‘specials’—far from special when Luminberg still had normalcy—were too much for him to refuse. It was a rare moment to take a filling meal outside of what the headquarters’ mess hall had to provide at that time. Choice steaks over corned beef, and he was not alone in thinking so: the restaurant was filled with officers looking for a means of culinary escape. Now Rinvar had to spend the energy from what he had eaten sitting down, waiting for the rain to pass.

  There was another way: a nearby newsstand, where there was enough shade for two people. He wanted to find out what the press had to say about what took place. An old woman, mum but eager to find someone not in uniform to talk to, was in charge. No change in price: at least, Rinvar knew that the Empire didn’t make buying newspapers at impossible prices a way to keep everything under wraps.

  The copy of Das Blatt’s front page had an interesting layout. Instead of the usual columnar maze of text regarding Imperial policies, the image of five House Melvich soldiers in pressed uniforms, polished medals, and clean smiles greeted the reader. Surrounding the group were burnt hulls of steel creatures that bore a humanoid gait; some had blackened gun barrels and cracked cannon muzzles attached to them.

  Behind them was the rhomboid chassis of an armored gun tractor: a center of attraction for the supposed military parade that took place in Luminberg. New paint in parade colors of red and blue, complete with clear unit markings and a stenciled name: Alter Waldo.

  Beneath the image was the article:

  ANOTHER SUCCESS TO CELEBRATE ON THE DAY OF THE DEFENSE

  The Fatherland is proud to present one name that strikes fear into the hearts of enemies, whether they be ambitious syndicates or foreign agents in disguise: Ernst Ebner.

  Luminberg was celebrating the Evening of the Defense when the undesirable ones struck in the name of all that is evil. But through Ebner’s bravery and quick thinking, he crushed the enemy’s ambitions like an unstoppable tide. The interlopers’ guns did no good against the Alter Waldo’s armor, and even the enemy’s strange armored warriors were reduced to flaming ruins with its mighty cannon. The day was saved, and now, Luminberg and the rest of the Empire have one more reason to celebrate.

  This is a clear message to those who dare bring trouble to the Empire: we will find you, and we will bring you to justice!

  “The Steel Fist, Unleashed”

  “We do not wait for the enemy to act; we engage and destroy them. Our armor is more than a machine. It is a personage of our Empire’s will to prevail.” — Ernst Ebner

  Our Victorious Tally:

  - 13 armored fighters destroyed

  - 6 enemy operatives captured

  — Issued under the authority of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior

  5-7-17

  At the lowest part of the front page was another box that was much smaller than the image. It was a picture of a line of patients from one of Luminberg’s hospital wards. The article underneath read:

  ON THE PREVENTION OF A NEW SICKNESS

  They may look like they’re sleeping, but there’s something else in the air.

  Our experts have identified the emergence of a new occurrence in and around Luminberg. If you feel suddenly tired and fall asleep without warning, you may be afflicted with Luminberger’s Syndrome. This is due to crystal energy lamps reacting to extremely high temperatures, releasing chemicals that trick your brain into falling asleep.

  This is not the refreshing nap that most of us think. Complications include muscle pain, chronic fatigue, and even death—if not treated early.

  Fortunately, Luminberger’s Syndrome can be prevented by following three easy steps:

  Smell it – patients have described the smell of burning sand before the symptom takes place

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Stay away from it – do not run into the source of the smell or smoke. Report it to the nearest fire department or health center

  Filter it – if your area is near a place with reported cases, avail of our air purifiers by going to the nearest health facility

  Neglecting your duties imperils not only you, but the community at large.

  Cleanliness is the first defense against disease.

  — Imperial Health Service

  5-7-17

  “This is the best the Imperial Press could come up with?” Rinvar rolled the paper and watched the opaque shower thin out. “This Ebner they’ve got has a large pair of shoes to wear.”

  Though wounded and battered, Luminberg refused to crumble. Fires had burned away before the night ended, devoured wood where they ran, reducing some houses to charred columns and heavy soot until there was little left to consume. Roads were being cleared of rubble, and buildings too burnt to be saved had collapsed. Nearly barefaced streets took over areas where the most intense fighting took place.

  Rinvar entered the grounds of their makeshift command center, exchanging fast salutes with each sentry and fellow officer whom he happened to pass by. The flag of the Investigation Bureau glistened in front of him; somewhat drenched, though miraculously showing the department's seal in its new blue, red, and gold scheme. Daylight was not strong enough to reflect the water droplets that clung onto the building.

  At long last, the warmth of the hotel interior. Rinvar took off his coat and set it on a nearby hanger. The director's makeshift office should be nearby, but of all places Farin had to pick, why did she choose a room near the cleaning supplies? Rinvar opened the door to see her set a few papers on the table. Her face almost crumpled to a frown, but it restored its stern smile on sight of the captain.

  “It was a bad day for a walk. I told you that.”

  "I have never let the weather stop me from dodging rations."

  Rinvar put a damp, almost limp-looking paper bag before the director's desk. Farin herself drew close to the smell it was holding. There was no second-guessing the spices.

  "Kriemreich's aristocrats..." Farin relaxed her back on the chair. "I'm sure wherever you got that earned quite a profit from it."

  "Rinaldo's. Not the best around... unless it's the only place open in the city." Rinvar said, "It's for Elena. I'll spare you my share, given that look in your eye."

  "Patronizing is against the law, Captain." Farin's voice was dry as it was serious. "But I can't deny that Blaurosen's rations aren't fun to eat."

  "I'm not doing this forever." Rinvar pulled out a paper-wrapped item from the bag and placed it on Farin's desk. "Probably just today, until the Army's cooks can come up with something interesting from their kitchens."

  "I'll pay for this spiced sausage—in regular rates, of course."

  "We'll talk once the pay is out."

  Farin noticed something else in Rinvar’s hand. It wasn’t paper for wrapping food with, but a copy of an Empire-sponsored publication. She gestured for Rinvar to hand it over to her, to which he complied with a grin. She stared at the image of House Melvich’s soldiers and a worn-looking cannon tractor. Farin folded the paper and set it on the desk without making a sound. She exhaled, shook her head, and said:

  “And we should all be happy and forget about what happened here. Three cheers.”

  “A pfennig-theater playwright can do better, but if this is what the Empire thinks must be done…”

  “It better, or the Minister of Defense will lose more hair.” The director smiled and looked away from the paper. "Also, Luminberger’s Syndrome? Anyway, since you are here, we can talk about work."

  Farin turned on the projector. Rinvar caught sight of a picture of one of the broken constructs. A part of its armor was studied by three or four scientists in the picture. At the lower right of the display was a construction company.

  “Good news for us.” Farin sat down and looked at the projection for another few seconds. “Our spotters have come up with the answer to where those flying disks return to.”

  “They’re working fast.” Rinvar sat down near the director’s desk

  “Let me get to that. Just have to get to the point…” Farin read through the report; her finger probed for something on the paper until she stopped after five flipped pages. “Ah, here it is. The disks landed at a warehouse that belonged to… a steel processing company.”

  “That would be this… Severniya Industrie?” Rinvar based it on the building found in Farin’s presentation. “Going down the ‘new guy usual suspect route,’ I see. They are fairly new in the business, if I remember. Only some two or three years short of a decade?”

  “Correct. I learned from the scientists a while back about their specialty products, but that’s beside the point. If correct, I doubt if we can catch the Gray Fox red-handed there, so we’ll settle for knowing if this company has anything to do with our man.”

  Farin let out a short chuckle. Silence ended her laughter, followed by her pushing strayed maize-colored locks off her shoulder.

  “So the Gray Fox’s men and death machines use this place as a stopover. Charming fellow, he is.”

  “This company is the top suspect. Who knows? He might even own this firm, considering that Severniya Industrie does not process ore mined from Aarnholm. This company imports raw iron and coal from Talyetzin, in Severniya.”

  “Aarnholm isn’t exactly kind to newcomers with its prices.” Rinvar listened to the clicking of reels as the projector went on. “But given the company is named after the country where they get the ore from...”

  “I’ve heard in the news that metal ore has marked up across the continent, but Severniya is selling them cheaper and will continue for at least five years.”

  Farin picked up another file folder from the table and took a five-page document. She went on saying:

  “This is an example of Severniya Industrie’s ledgers.” The director slid the papers to Rinvar’s side of the table. "Their inventory and logistics staff record in these green notebooks before they are submitted to a master tabulation sphere. This is where they will most likely write down product shipments and client information before encoding it into their system.”

  “Something like tallying… this is professional work beyond my line of duties.”

  “Correct, Captain. We can find a good lead to the Gray Fox if we secure a few of these.”

  “We could just show up at their desk and ask for their cooperation.” Rinvar stretched his legs and put his feet on top of the table. “I’m sure that they won’t mind giving us their records on their recent clients.”

  “If only it were that easy.” Farin’s angled cheekbones were more prominent when the faint light coming from the ceiling windows outlined her face. “I highly doubt that they would even give us something to work on. Besides, we will need something that did not come out of their press yet.”

  “So I’ll have to steal the documents.”

  “Yes.”

  There was something in Farin’s smile that brought a wave of anxiety or dread in Rinvar. It was never in her perfectly aligned teeth, nor in the sharp yet unassuming curve of her lips, or even in the light lines that formed near her temples. She was, after all, one of those looked up to by the higher members of the Imperial Armed Forces, not only for mere prowess. He knew the rumors of generals and ministers, and how mixed the reactions were when Farin took the post.

  Rinvar was too familiar with Farin’s expression: it was one he wouldn’t be able to object to or decline.

  He knew that she would press him to do something that was either too daring, too difficult, or plainly too specific that nobody else but the captain could make it work. Farin broke the silence when she said:

  “I know. I’ll have to push you into doing this, but I will make it easier for you.”

  “And how exactly?” Rinvar stretched his back and angled the chair to almost a hundred and fifty degrees before reverting to its original position. “I don’t think going there in full uniform is going to do the trick.”

  “I’ve read about Severniya Industrie’s job openings.” She answered before giving Rinvar a poster of their job vacancies. “This disaster cost them quite a lot of manpower. They’re going to be a little lax, willing to take anyone on board to resume business.”

  “Oh. Great.” Rinvar scratched his head; his eyes not losing track of Farin. “A sheet metal worker. This will be easy.”

  “I’d better start learning how to act the part if I were you. They’ll be training interested new workers in three weeks. More than enough to get in.” The director spoke in a lighter, almost playful tone. Rinvar could tell that she was enjoying this. “You can come in your most regular citizen look.”

  “Easy for you to say.” The captain was trying to figure out if forcing out laughter or a sigh out of his new assignment would make things better. “I don’t even know what to expect from that training.”

  “It’s where the spotters were led.” Farin turned around to look outside. “I’m not expecting you to find anything exciting like automaton remains, but, you know, we’re after any information that could lead us to our fox.”

  Farin turned off the projector and began putting the folders inside a large white envelope. She pulled out a brown folder from the mass of documents and handed it to the captain.

  “Here’s something to read while you’re at it. I included the floor plans of Severniya Industrie’s factory, depot, and workers’ quarters. Those files are going to be stored where trainees can’t reach. That’s up to you to figure out.”

  “That will be far from easy.”

  “The Empire’s expecting results, and we’ll have to deliver something soon.” Farin wound a string around the envelope’s cover, ending it in a simple knot. “That food may get too cold. You don’t plan on keeping Elena waiting, do you?”

  Rinvar extended a salute without standing up; the director returned the gesture and headed for the door.