The man spoke in a commanding tone, still showing Annan only his profile rather than facing him.
"Are you sure your name is Her... Her... Hernandez, not Montreal?"
"Do you think I'm joking?"
Annan ran the surname through his mind and found no important figures who bore it. "You're doing nothing, and you expect me to do nothing too?"
"Clearly, you still don't understand the situation. This is my final warning."
"I never give warnings."
They parted on bad terms, and the carriage carrying the unidentified man drove away.
Meanwhile, after delivering his parting shot, Annan went straight to the Knights' Order to find Olin and ask who Pule Hernandez was.
"A wealthy merchant who owns several streets and operates in the Lower Hive. You defeated his nephew at the Royal Magic Academy, so of course he doesn't like you."
"Is he one of ours?"
"No." Olin paused. "Not really."
What made Olin qualify her answer was that selection for the Empire's eight legions was rigorous, and behind them stood at least five thousand families that had raised elites. Their ties were tangled together.
That was why even the Military Affairs Department found accusations against Blackwatch difficult to handle. Only the Judgment Hall feared no pressure and remained loyal solely to the Empire.
Assuming it really was the Empire they were loyal to...
"Then he can shove it. Back down? That phrase isn't in my dictionary!"
"I'm curious how many words are in your dictionary."
Annan entered the Imperial Capital again. Countless silent, expectant gazes settled on him once more. To their surprise, he sought no one out this time. He went straight to the Judgment Hall and climbed the steps he had not dared set foot on during his last visit.
At the top of the steps, Annan looked