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Vasiliy continued his argument with Regomiss for a while longer, finding no agreement one way or another, until eventually deciding that it was time to head out.

The reaper didn’t let up, though. Nor was he going to, Vasiliy figured. Even if Vasiliy remained undecided, then it would effectively be the same outcome as a total refusal, since they were on the clock here. It was only a matter of time until Jercash got around to visiting this place.

Which was a fairly compelling argument, Vasiliy had to admit. He couldn’t deny the urgency.

But there was also the problem of actually contacting his uncle. He couldn’t exactly call the guy up on the phone. Communication with anyone on the dead continent of Exoltha was nigh impossible.

Perhaps he could try sending the zalabaram, though. The dark messengers. Unfortunately, the zalabaram who came here would not accept messages from him. Only Grandfather and Pavel could give them anything.

And Pavel was the primary instigator of the civil war that was currently taking place.

If Vasiliy was going to get any favors from him, then it was not going to be free. Pavel would want his backing.

Would that really matter, though? This was all temporary. Pavel no doubt believed otherwise, arrogant fool that he was, but if Jercash or Gohvis decided to appear, then any prior declarations of loyalty wouldn’t mean very much.

Heh. Unless Pavel still thought he could win their uncle’s backing, too, somehow.

Now that, Vasiliy would love to see. He still remembered the last time Pavel had tried that. After multiple hours of discussion, Uncle had ultimately decided to freeze Pavel’s entire body solid and plant him in the ground like a tree, upside down by his head, in the middle of the palace courtyard.

Granted, that was near a century ago now. Surely, his cousin would be able to put up much more of a fight now.

Damn. Vasiliy was tempted to listen to Regomiss just for the chance to see that again.

On the way to the testing facility, Vasiliy witnessed more of the senseless fighting going on beyond the palace walls. From the window of his black truck, he could see armed militants roaming the streets of Polost and opening fire on each other.

Thankfully, they seemed to recognize his vehicle. Perhaps they knew that if it received any bullet holes, he would soon be stopping, getting out, and promptly putting an end to their fight for them, regardless of which of his fool cousins they were fighting for.