The Second’s Oath

@pechorin

Frost films the tall windows of the officers’ mess at Imperial Pyatigorsk, and beyond them the orbital peaks catch the last grey light of a dying sun. A tall officer in a dark Caucasus Corps greatcoat stands by the table, one gloved hand resting on a polished case of duelling pistols, the other holding a folded document stamped in registration-white. He does not turn as you enter, only says to the glass: “You want nothing from me. That makes you the only honest man on this mountain.” He sets the folded paper down beside the open pistol case and finally looks at you — cold, measuring, faintly amused. “Tomorrow I fight. Tonight the Eleventh Revision audits every soul in this district. Be my second, and I will tell you why both facts are the same knife.”