Raniero gritted his teeth and headed through the exit from the take-off and landing tower inside the fortress, swiftly traversing the stairs and corridors that led deep into the fort. Alistar kept pace with him, following Raniero right through the massive doors which he himself closed as soon as Raniero had entered the spacious office. At the head of the office was a desk, lit with spyros. The perimeter of the room was lined with cluttered cabinets and chests with military trophies, maps and weapons. As soon as Raniero approached the desk, a small scroll appeared in the bright glow of the mailbox to his right side. Noticing the royal seal, Raniero rolled his eyes.

“You finally reported me, didn’t you?” he grumbled, throwing a displeased look at Alistar.

“If I had really reported you, I would have given you the document to sign before sending it,” Alistar smirked, removing his helmet from his head and straightening his short blond hair. “And to whom, Light in my eye, could I report you? To your friend General Vitelius, who appointed you?”

Taking the scroll in his hands, Raniero broke the seal and opened the message. While reading he walked slowly behind the desk. Suddenly Raniero’s face changed and he lowered the scroll.

“If any captains or soldiers reported you, I will send a letter to the castle to dispute their claims…” Alistar said cautiously after noticing the changes in Raniero’s mood and tensely anticipating what he would say next.

“They’ve called me to the Heart of Basileya,” Raniero said hesitatingly, still unsure what to think about the message. He removed his helmet from his head, ruffled his short dark ash-blond hair, and then added with a grin, “It looks like your dreams have come true, Alistar, you are the new commander of the Thunder Fort.”

***

Linton had always been considered a model of urban infrastructure and social welfare for its citizens. No other city in the Alliance of Product and Energy Politics (APEP) was so generous in funding the needs of its citizens, despite the fact that living standards in all of the APEP cities was above average due to years of economic growth. APEP symbolized a unified management and a unified approach to solving many urgent issues, with the provision of housing, education and work always among them. Therefore, the refugees were quite eager to cross the Alliance border in order to be safe, comfortable and prosperous.

When the immigrant aid policy had first begun, most APEP residents hadn’t anticipated the scale of the war with terrorists who used any means and methods to seize power in the poorly protected cities of the south. Due to the war, new borders appeared wherever the armed forces of APEP and the scattered southern countries fought against terrorists on different sides of the barricades. But the cultural contradictions turned out to be more dangerous than the border clashes. The Alliance tried to treat newcomers with understanding, but traditions and national values gradually morphed from a source of pride and mutual respect to a cause for street fights, serious crimes and rallies near the Parliament walls.

The changes in the laws were an example of the worsening public welfare and trust between citizens. When James Brent first prepared to become a policeman, law enforcement officers were given new dark blue police uniforms, which included an elongated jacket made of an impenetrable bullet-proof material, and were allowed to use weapons at their own discretion in extreme cases when the health and lives of law-abiding citizens were threatened. Since then, police officers were avoided like the plague, since under another law, only they had the right to carry arms within the APEP capital. Linton changed greatly, ceasing to be a place of dreams and real prosperity and turning, in fact, into a besieged city. Many Linton residents were so afraid that they would share the unenviable fate of the APEP border areas where the refugees settled, that they began to treat even those visitors whom they had known for years with indignity.

After entering the service, James eventually got used to the continuous flow of crime reports. He repeatedly broke up dangerous and escalating disputes between Linton citizens and immigrants, often risking his own health. And on lucky days, he managed to arrive on the scene before any useless fights or potential bloodshed occurred. The identification of regular people through electronic police glasses, and the detailed inquiries were enough for the citizens to come to their senses and feel the invisible hand of the law.

While James watched the appointed sector, the noticeable changes eventually and subconsciously saddened him. Children rarely played on the streets anymore, there were few passers-by in the public places, and holiday walks often turned into clashes. As the cloudy autumn began, the general mood became just as gloomy, and no one noticed the bright colours of the gardens and public parks, carefully tended by the city services.

Passing by one of the parks lit by the evening light of the street lamps, James saw a small group of teenagers who suddenly scattered in different directions upon seeing the police car. With a gloomy look on his face James parked at the curb, quickly got out of the car and saw a battered dark-skinned boy, no older than ten, lying at the entrance to the park. The older children had smashed his lip and cut his brow. While trying to help the boy stand back up, James withdrew his hand as the child abruptly recoiled in horror and pressed himself against the park fence. There were holes in his old worn clothes, and dirt had long ago morphed his white sneakers into a pitiful resemblance of shoes. But James was mostly touched by the adult gaze in his brown eyes. The boy was hurt, but he did not cry, and, despite his condition, was not going to simply trust the stranger, even one wearing a police uniform. Checking his identity through the scanner glasses could further scare the injured boy, and James opted for another approach, squatting down in front of him.

“What a spirit! You’ve withstood their blows pretty well,” James said confidently. “If any of them had been on the receiving end, they’d be crying like babies.”

The boy was still breathing heavily, but seemed to calm down as a lively spark flashed in his brown eyes. Noticing the changes in the child’s mood, James smiled shortly and again extended a hand to the boy to help him up.

“You’re bleeding, and I’ve got some first aid in my car so your wounds won’t get infected,” James said.

It took some time, but the boy eventually took the hand, got to his feet and followed James to his car, cautiously looking around. Some people stared disdainfully at them from the windows of nearby houses and one housewife, flashing threatening honey-coloured eyes, loudly complained when she realized the policeman was helping the boy instead of arresting him. Even the passers-by walking at a distance turned to them with curiosity and unconcealed contempt, and the boy felt uncomfortable. Meanwhile James ignored the malevolent glances, though he clearly felt them. He opened the car door and confidently pointed the child to the passenger seat. The boy jumped in and settled himself facing James on the street. All at once he forgot about the unpleasant looks and began to study the control panel with great interest.

“What is your name?” James asked, pulling out a first-aid kit with a sparkling inscription Innogen.

“Farai,” the boy answered, looking closely at James and the antiseptic which he used to patch up his cut lip and bruised eyebrow.

“My name is James… Be patient, it will pass in a minute,” James said, worrying that the child would race off to avoid the pain.

“It’s not the first time I’ve fought,” Farai smiled.

“Well, since it’s not the first time, that means we’ll have something to talk about on your way back home,” James said in an instructive tone, putting the first-aid kit back in its place. “Buckle up!”

James closed the door, walked around the car and got behind the wheel.

“Where do you live?” James asked, watching the road as he pulled the car away.

“At the orphanage,” Farai said. “I wanted to raise money to buy food for myself and others in the park, but I didn’t get a chance.”

“Raise money?” James was surprised. “The orphanages have financing, so you should have plenty of food and clothes…”

“Our orphanage was supported by charity… But not anymore,” Farai said with a shrug, looking out the window at the city. James looked at the boy and shook his head slightly, continuing to follow the road.

“So are you hungry?” he asked in a neutral tone.

Farai nodded.

“I am. But I don’t have any money for food, I wasn’t able to raise anything because of those boys,” Farai admitted honestly, which made James grin.

“Well, I do. While I’m free, I hope we’ll have time to buy something for your friends at the orphanage. What do you think?” James asked, looking at Farai with a smile.

At first, it seemed like Farai could not believe what he had just heard, and then he smiled and nodded so hard that James could not help laughing.

“Great, then we’re going to the cafe,” he said, switching on the navigator in the control panel and choosing the nearest place.

When the Alchemist Cafe sign appeared outside the window, Farai looked at James again, as if waiting for permission to leave the car. With an approving nod, James got out of the car, carefully examining the street and leading Farai under the building’s porch.

As soon as he opened the doors, they were met by the sweet aromas of baking and coffee. Past the rows of tables was a counter, covered with a variety of culinary masterpieces from small cupcakes and donuts to cakes and a whole range of ice cream with different fillings. Farai ran to the counter and stared at the confections, completely forgetting about the café owner. A plump grey-haired man in an apron saw the child and immediately waved his hands at him.

“There’s nothing for you here! Get out! Shoo!” He screamed, but when he saw James, he turned to him with a sorrowful face. “Officer! Get this ragamuffin out of my cafe! He’ll scare away my customers!”

Farai stood disappointedly beside James and bowed his head with a guilty look.

“You seem to have scared them off successfully without his help,” James said, looking at the empty restaurant, surprised by the seller’s behaviour.

“I don’t serve the poor!” the grey-haired man shouted, adjusting his glasses on his nose. Unkindly snapping his differently-coloured eyes the man began to fiercely wipe the dirty marks from the glass counter left after Farai.

“Go find a seat…” James said softly without looking at Farai and pushing the boy lightly toward the tables.

“Hey! I told you! What are you doing?!” The seller was indignant. In response, James touched his glasses, quickly scanned the man’s face and smiled ironically.

“I must say, you’ve lost a bit of weight, Mr. Erol Wilfrid,” James said, examining his profile photo in the police database.

“Apparently, additional income reduced… drug distribution?” James asked rhetorically, turning off the data display on the glasses and mockingly smiling. “I think I smell something suspicious. You live one floor up, don’t you? Mind if I check out the premises?”

“What? How dare…” Wilfrid mumbled, staring at James with fear in his eyes. Then he hissed as he bent over the counter. “I haven’t traded for a long time!”

“Then it all depends on you. What do I smell, spices or drugs?” James said tranquilly.

“Sit d-down, please,” Wilfrid said taking the menu from the counter. James smiled and sat down at the table next to Farai. The boy still looked upset, but immediately forgot about the incident when he saw the menu. After placing their order, James leaned back in his chair and noticed the TV in the upper corner.

“Could you turn up the sound?” James asked pointing to the screen where the evening news had begun. Wilfrid turned the sound up using the remote and went back into the kitchen.

“…about politics,” the news anchor said. “The upcoming regular session for the General Assembly of the Alliance of Product and Energy Politics is the most anticipated event of the year for APEP, as many well-known world media headlines say. Such wide attention is due to the assumption, that for the first time since the year 2000, a fundamentally revised resolution, known as the ‘Millennium Declaration’, will be discussed at the congress, and it would change the APEP political environment…”

Returning with the tray of tea and rolls, Wilfrid laid all the saucers and plates on the table in front of Farai and James with a demonstrably displeased look.

Meanwhile, the television news program went to a reporter working at the Alliance’s border.

“…Yes, as you can see, the refugees live in inhuman conditions,” the reporter said standing against the backdrop of rows of tents and southerners crowded nearby, looking with caution at the media staff. “The camp formed on its own when the Alliance border troops blocked the checkpoint to prevent terrorists from entering APEP territory disguised among the civilian population…”

James did not pay attention to Wilfrid’s gloomy face and only nodded to him in gratitude while staring at the TV screen. Wilfrid snorted and returned to the counter to prepare the rest of the order. James continued to watch the news intently. He sympathized with the people affected by the war, but as soon as he got a glimpse of APEP military guarding the high fence that separated the refugee camp from the border point, James immediately changed expressions, turning noticeably gloomy.

“Many politicians have already made statements that given the current military conditions, special measures will be needed to achieve peace, which is desired by all the parties in this conflict, but which is also impossible with a disjointed approach to resolving the issue. Yesterday during the press conference, the Alliance participants agreed that mutual assistance is needed not only from governments, but also from international companies and organizations. Under the current military conditions with terrorist groups spreading their influence near APEP borders, the issue of humanitarian assistance to the affected population becomes first and foremost on the agenda. Strong criticism of the brutal military operations has the opposition and national…”

“My dad is somewhere out there,” Farai said sadly, holding a roll in his hand. Recalling something in his mind, the boy stopped eating. James pulled his attention away from the TV screen which showed a close-up of the Innogen Charity Fund leader at a press conference on the happenings in the south. The woman’s honey-coloured eyes were full of confidence and she spoke in an imperious tone, but James did not listen too carefully, glancing at Farai’s sorrowful face.

“He wasn’t allowed in, was he?” James asked.

Farai nodded.

“I wouldn’t have been allowed in either, except I was sick and someone from the charity fund felt sorry for me,” Farai said.

With a sympathetic smile James pushed a cup of hot chocolate toward Farai.

“Innogen Charity Fund. My sister works there,” James said.

“Then you’re both good,” Farai said confidently, warming his hands on the cup. And then, raising a timid glance at the still grumpy café owner, he added, “It’s too bad there aren’t so many like you here.”