"So? Why'd you want me to meet those guys?" Dmitry asked on the way back. "'Cuz I didn't understand a single word you talked about. And I already met them while you slept, anyway."
Konrad had to scowl there for a moment, head still full of blueprints and machines, but—
Right. He actually wanted to introduce his friend to someone.
Ugh. Somewhere down the line, in his steam-engine-filled rampage, he forgot about it.
But now that he mentioned it—
"No. Sorry. This wasn't part of my plans," he said with an apologetic smile, trying to clear up his mind. "Guess I went a bit overboard with sketching? But that's not why I wanted you to come."
And damn. Given how long he had been thinking about how to broach this subject—
He still didn't know where to start.
"So, you—umm—you graduated from West Point, right?" he mumbled, clearing his throat.
And before he forgot again, they had to turn right along the palisades.
"Why, yes, I did," Dmitry noted, raising an eyebrow. "Though you could argue it was all a PR stunt, even if I did finish the entire course in the end. But I was thirteenth in my class."
"Of how many?" Konrad asked, but—
No. That's not what he wanted to know.
As far as he had heard, most famous modern military leaders attended that one school.
Like, sure, that alone wouldn't guarantee they were all geniuses, but—
By now he was certain his friend wasn't exactly dull, either.
Which, um, yeah. Made bringing this topic up all the more difficult.
First off, he didn't want to be pushy.
"Aaand you also said you might stay here for a while, right?" he probed as they strolled.
Dmitry let out a long sigh.
"I mean, I'm still a bit baffled by this place, but it's not bad. And I must have told you before: I need a break from serving a government that lied to me all this time. Besides—"
He paused, turning to him with a grin.
"I had no idea Heaven was an actual, real place you can visit. Or could, before you irradiated it for thousands of years. But I'm told we no longer have a jump-off point back to Earth, anyway."
Ugh. Every time he finally shoved down his guilt about it—
Someone had to bring it right up.
But this time, it might have even helped his case.
"Yeah, so I was kinda wondering," Konrad muttered, clearing his throat again. "Would you be up to working for me in the meantime?"
Dmitry gave him a look.
"Weren't I doing that already?" he asked. "Like, back in Kyiv and the Zone. I kept following you everywhere, which—thinking back on it? Why did I even do that, haha?"
Good question, but Konrad sure didn't mind.
Without the Captain, he wouldn't ever find Strelok's traces, let alone manage to enter the Zone.
And once they were there—how many times did his new friend save his life exactly?
So yeah. He didn't want to look ungrateful or like a slavedriver, but—
"Fair," he said. "And I much appreciate it. Like, you're welcome to stay as long as you want, and I'd do everything in my power to send you back if that's what you wanted. But also—"
He nodded forward as they approached the barracks.
This place had transformed, too, since he'd been here.
Soldiers trained in the square in front of it, but—
Now it looked more like an inner courtyard, with all those yurts surrounding it.
"As the duke of Halaima," Konrad explained. "I also have an army, and a long border to protect. Both from external and internal threats. In fact, in the current political situation—"
He shuddered, thinking of the envious, or straight-up hostile glances he got in the capital.
Defending against the nomads was straightforward. Protect the passes at all costs.
But he still remembered that knight charge Lord Schwertburg had ordered.
If nobles entered a coalition against him and marched on his lands from the countryside—
Not to mention the extra-dimensional invaders his wives fought every day. So far, this small group of powerful sorcerers handled it fine, but what if things escalated?
And then—there was the threat of assassins, banditry, and so much more.
"What you see now was all created by a mercenary called Captain Vargas," he said. "Serving my father-in-law, or whoever fancies him at the time. I can't trust him, but with him gone—"
"Oh, so that's why you asked me about my credentials," Dmitry grinned.
Well, the cat was out of the bag.
But seeing his face, the Captain seemed more amused than annoyed by the realisation.
"I've a hundred-or-so strong men-at-arms," Konrad continued, as if talking to himself. "Then the townsguard. Militias. Tribal auxiliaries, and now—about eight thousand horse archers."
"Damn. That's like a whole division," his friend said with a whistle. "And you want me to—?"
Hah. As if the Prodigy of Haiten even knew what he wanted.
"Well, I can cast some fancy spells, but when it comes down to it, I'm a logistician. I know how to feed an army, not how to organise or lead them into battle. But you're the Hero of Kyiv."
"I mean, nobody does all that alone on a division level," the Captain pointed out.
He watched the men train and take on mock duels for a moment, as if considering the offer.
"Well, the thing is, I'm a Captain," Dmitry stated. "So the largest formation I should be commanding is a company-sized one. Of modern, already trained soldiers, that is."
Ugh. Was that a no?
"For a unit this big, you need separate training facilities and personnel. And a staff to handle their everyday needs and tasks. Officers of different ranks to lead each branch, and then—"
"Why, this is what I hoped you would help me figure out," Konrad interjected.
He didn't want to shove responsibilities onto others. Seeing Eyna work so hard in his stead had already made him feel guilty. But he couldn't hope to sort everything out by himself, either.
Especially not what meant the difference between life and death for his soldiers.
Not when he was neither a soldier nor a strategist himself.
"I'm in desperate need of a military expert who'd act as an advisor, first of all," Konrad said. "If I could rely on their strategic insights on the battlefield, it'd be even better. But—"
"I'm sure there are people better qualified for this job in this world," Dmitry smirked.
"None that I trust," he shot back. "And I'd rather have a mediocre strategist who'd be frank with me the entire time than, you know. A genius who'd use my own army to overthrow me."
"Who are you calling mediocre?!" the Captain snapped, but started hollering.
Konrad smirked, too, but before he could clarify—
"Sure, if advice is what you need, I'll help," Dmitry offered. "I've time to kill between the lavish free meals, anyway, haha. But, like—you know I can't even speak the language?!"
Yeah. That was somewhat of a handicap.
But he had a solution.
"Well, you know Paula can use telepathy and take over people—or their mouths?" Konrad noted. "If you were to let her, she could be your built-in translator system."
The Captain's eyes widened.
"Y-you mean, like—let her take over my mind?!"
"That's not," he protested, but—
That'd be a long conversation to sort out.