I did not choose this path out of desire. I would have done anything else before I took a life, but the doctor robbed of that choice when he affixed your hand on my arm. It binds inescapably to your flas, which burn hotter with every passing day.
It is the sa fire the world will taste in your passing. I know you do not seek destruction, or death, but what you are is contrary to the idea of self. There is no will that can contest you. Choice withers for lack of space. Life becos a single question of where one stands with regard to Michael Baumgart, and death even more so.
It isnt such a horrible thing. I dont mind it, as I suffered under the delusion of choice for only a short while. But you co into a world that had no expectation of you, and so of its denizens arent like . They have aims of their own, a spirit that will not suffer subordination.
And they are not fools, these n. They see what you are. Is was not an accident, nor an overreaction; setting gas upon the city was Saleh Taskin discovering that he was smaller than he thought, and taking his first steps towards greater power to redy that lack. I tried to kill him before he could take further strides, but I was also smaller than I had assud.
- Annals of the Seventeenth Star, 693.
The interior of the Assembly was dark and boiling hot. Many of its mbers were older n, frail against the cold; the buildings boilers worked constantly during the colder months to drive away the chill.
Michael rembered visiting when he was a young boy, laughing as the Assemblyn stumbled in with fogged-up spectacles. His father had let him sit in a corner of his office and scrawl on papers with an old pen, the last ti he had visited. That afternoon, his mother had co by to fetch them both. They had bought roast chestnuts from a cart, with Michael squirreling so away in his pockets for Ricard-
They turned a corner, and the mory faded. He had not thought of that day for many years, the idyll of his younger years seeming foreign against what had followed. That was not his father, nor was it Michael in his mories. They were pale shadows of people, waiting to beco what they were after his mothers death.
This way, he murmured, sweeping around a corner. He walked quickly, with purpose; n sprang out of his way. There were enough Assemblyn and assorted heirs that it wasnt odd to see new faces, and Michael traded on their desire to avoid entanglents with an unknown quantity of status and arrogance.
To so his face was more familiar. There were pulses of shocked recognition, widening eyes as he brushed past. None followed, though there were more than a few hushed conversations left in his wake.
Finally, they reached the buildings south wing - one of the oldest in the governnt complex, and a coveted spot to have an office. Michaels grandfather had secured the spot long ago, through a deal that nobody rembered. They walked briskly down the corridor under frescoes that depicted mountains and oceans, n brandishing swords and shields that glowed with unreal light.
The door lood in Michaels vision, little different than others they had passed save for the weight lent to it by his mory. He walked up to it and paused. There was the sound of voices from within. It would have been trivial to send his sight in ahead, to see what lay beyond, but so part of him rebelled against taking that step before the last possible mont.
Sobriquet gave his hand a squeeze. Ill be with you, she murmured. Her fingers slipped out of his, and a mont later she had disappeared.
Michael took a deep breath, then raised his hand to knock three tis on the door. He waited for a beat, then pushed the door open and walked inside.
There were two n at his fathers desk, turning bemusedly to see who had co inside; Michael looked past them at Karl Baumgart. His fathers face had gone lean, thinner than the posters made him look, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was lighter than Michael rembered, his skin pale and papery.
He was struck by the sudden realization that his father was an old man. Not truly old, like Jeorg or Leire, but frail and waning as the years pulled against him. Karls eyes glittered in deep shadow as he t Michaels gaze and held it for a long mont.
Niko, Uwe, Karl said. Well finish this discussion another ti. His voice had changed little, and Michael felt the sound of it like a file drawn against his bones. He did not move, nor even blink, but his formal clothes felt warm for the first ti since they had entered the sweltering offices.
The two n at the desk got up, nodding respectfully to Karl, and walked from the office. Michael felt their annoyance, their burning curiosity, but he could not bear a scrap of attention for it.
The door closed behind him.
Karl leaned forward onto his desk, steepling his fingers. His eyes traced over Michaels body, quickly, then returned to his face. I had heard reports you were in the country, he said. But the reports about you grow more outlandish every day. You ca to my offices, and not my house. His eyes narrowed. Why?
Michael kept his gaze steady, taking a asured breath before he responded. Because we have business to discuss, he said. Father.
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