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“That's not going to happen,” you tell Yulia, carefully shifting Usik's weight onto Mihail's shoulder. The young man staggers a little under the additional burden, but somehow manages to keep his comrade upright.
A slight frown crosses Yulia's face. “Are you sure?” she asks, tapping a finger against her chin, “He's no use to you now.”
Snatching your revolver from its holster, you bring the gun up and press the muzzle against Yulia's temple. “Don't make me repeat myself,” you snarl, cocking back the hammer, “Even if these wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than... than whatever butchery you have planned for him.”
Reaching up with one finger, Yulia gently pushes your revolver away. “There's no need to be rude,” she says with a smirk, “And while I'm sure that shooting me might be satisfying, it really wouldn't achieve anything aside from being an inconvenience... for both of us. You wanted to talk, didn't you? Then set your man down and come over here – we've got a lot of ground to cover, so you should probably sit down.”
You hesitate for a moment, then lower your revolver. Mihail lowers Usik to the ground at your nod, kneeling down beside the wounded man. “Keep an eye on him,” you tell him, “Try and... I don't know. Try and make him comfortable.”
“Don't worry about him bleeding on the carpet, it'll wash right out,” Yulia adds, gesturing over to a set of plush armchairs, “Shall we?”
-
“Gosh, where to start?” the black-haired woman asks herself as she sits, casually throwing one arm over the back of her chair, “You'd think I'd be better prepared for this, considering how long I kept you waiting, but I've never been the most organised-”
“What did you mean, “the infection”?” you interrupt, “What infection?”
“Oh, that,” Yulia grimaces, “It started to seep into my puppets a few years back. Years? Decades? It's hard to keep track. Anyway, it was such a shame – they started getting disobedient, even fighting with each other. The more they fought, the more it spread. In the end, I had to scrap almost all of them. All that work, wasted!”
A pause.
“This is the part where you're supposed to feel sorry for me,” she adds.
“That's not going to happen.”
“So cold!” Yulia gasps, “You really do take after your father, don't you?”
“Miss Phalaris, perhaps you could explain what those puppets... actually are?” Elle suggests, speaking up before you can say something you might regret, “Are they some kind of machine that you created?”
“Not quite,” Yulia answers with a smirk, “But before I can explain THAT, we need to take a step back. I mentioned that there was a great threat looming, remember?”
“The Lliogor?” you recall.
“Not them. Not really,” Yulia shakes her head, “I'm talking about the Stryx.”
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