Airships had another undeniable advantage over airplanes: they didn't require a runway for passenger boarding or disembarking. While the airships themselves were serviced at aerodrome facilities, they delivered passengers directly to the city center, typically near the railway station.
That was the case now. I stood on my balcony, smiling as I gazed at Saint Petersburg—the capital of the Russian Empire and my current intermediate destination—gliding beneath us.
Would I stay here long? I didn't know. My goal was hunting…
Hunting… How sweet that word sounded! In my past world, we were called "adrenaline junkies," but we simply loved our work, protecting the very fools who gave us such labels.
In this world, I didn't plan to dedicate my entire life to hunting as I had before. I wanted a different life—vibrant and interesting. But here's the catch: all the interesting things happen among aristocrats, and I'm supposedly one of them. But what's next? Dive back into that swamp? I need strength, without which I'd be nothing there.
And strength comes from hunting. My power works by killing monsters, making me stronger. Unfortunately, in this world, my new power is weak, but it can combine with my old power, becoming something new. And that, again, leads back to hunting.
I stretched languidly, then squinted with a smile. Countess Isabella de Lusignan was quite a character! I'd guessed right—she'd been a widow for over a year. Not that the details mattered to me. She was headed to the Urals, where her Lineage had industrial interests and, more importantly, a new potential suitor.
The girl wasn't very skilled but made up for it with insatiable enthusiasm and wild passion. I hadn't slept in the last twenty-four hours. As my old mentor used to say, "You'll sleep plenty in the afterlife!" Liar, old geezer! Here's the "afterlife," and I'm exhausted again.
The airship *Fon Veiroter* docked at the landing platform, and the crew thanked passengers over the intercom for choosing their company, inviting us to disembark. I did so promptly. Passing through the corridor, I heard alarmed shouts as security rushed toward the now-empty cabins of my hapless would-be assassins.
I smiled and quickened my pace. Thank God the passionate Frenchwoman didn't come to say goodbye. I hoped it was due to her natural wit, not temporary weakness in her legs.
Descending by elevator from the docking platform, I collected my meager luggage and stepped onto the station square.
The suitcase checked by my dead servant would have to be discarded once I inspected its contents. I didn't want to keep things packed for me by others—probably my past paranoia at work.
It was getting dark, and I saw no taxis near the station. It seemed two trains had arrived simultaneously, and the last car was snatched up right before me by a portly merchant with a large family.
Funnily enough, I'd padded my budget thanks to those incompetent killers. And I felt no shame! On the contrary, I was sure I'd saved fish and wolves from indigestion by taking their inedible paper. Should've stripped them too… Haha…
It was a warm spring evening, and I mentally sent Shnyrka to scout for a decent hotel. I wanted to stretch my legs and look around.
I barely remembered my mother—my father exiled her before I was five—but she'd spoken often of her homeland, seeming to miss it.
Evening and night were the best friends of my little companion, who moved through shadows, so he worked quickly. During his scouting, I memorized the route through his eyes and even saw the hotel, its name *Europe* lit up brightly. I headed that way, onto the famous Nevsky Prospect with its canals and bridges!
Dusk fell fast. I strode confidently, pulling a large wheeled suitcase and carrying a leather bag. That was all the heir of one of Europe's richest Lineages got. Former heir…
Shnyrka hissed softly in my ear, and I slowed slightly. Four shadows emerged from under a bridge, two slipping behind me.
I smiled as, in the dim lantern light, young, sturdy guys stepped forward, their faces unburdened by intellect but backed by strong fists.
"Didn't your papa give the boy money for a taxi?" smirked the leader, smaller than the others—likely the "brains" of this gang of thugs. "Or is the boy just thrifty? Then I commend you!"
"Who are you?" I wiped the smile off my face, trying to look flustered.
"Us? We're from Ligovka! But who're *you*?" The punk kept grinning, spitting onto the pavement through a gap from a missing tooth. "This is our turf, and kindly, noble sir, pay for passage!"
"How much?" I asked.
"How much?" The riffraff cackled. "Everything you've got! And we'll escort Your Honor to your destination, without dunking you in the canal!"
Joyful hoots echoed around.
"So, you're the local comedian?" I clarified. "Let out of the circus for a walk, or self-taught?"
"What?" The guy frowned.
"Over your shoulder!" I snorted. "Let's make a deal. I'm in a great mood today. You crawl back into the cesspit you came from, and I won't break anything."
"You what, freak, lost your marbles?!" The leader stopped smiling, deftly pulling a butterfly knife and twirling it, probably to intimidate. Idiot…
"So you can write too? Do they only teach clowns literacy in the circus, or is everyone there educated?"
"Jug, Twig! Give him a good thrashing!" ordered the leader, staying put. Definitely the smartest!
The two bandits behind me eagerly lunged to obey. I stood smiling, locking eyes with the leader. Why flinch when I could see everything through my pet's vision? I also sensed faint magic—two of the four had weak Gifts: the leader and one behind me.
At the last moment, I stepped aside, nudging one clumsy robber to speed him into the bridge's stone railing, sending him splashing into the river. The second's gut met my knee. A strike to his solar plexus knocked out his air and most of his courage, leaving only stupidity. The fool collapsed, gasping to stay conscious.
"What're you doing, freak? I'll—" The sly bastard kept talking. "Elephant, show him!"
A massive hulk charged with a roar. I sized him up, nearly using my Gift, but reconsidered. Not sporting to scatter weaklings with magic. I'd manage without. Besides, big cabinets fall louder!
It took a dozen hits instead of one. When the dazed giant slumped, my knuckles ached. What was his skull made of? I glanced at my jacket, annoyed—the brute had torn my sleeve grabbing it. With my limited wardrobe!
"You bastard!" I kicked the hulk in frustration and turned to the leader. "Well, scrawny? Arm or leg?"
"What?" The hapless bandit gaped, backing away.
"I said, arm or leg to break?"
"Listen, brother! You… pass for now. No complaints," the chief declared, and I was convinced the smartest survive.
"But I've got a complaint! So, what're we breaking?"
"Maybe we don't have to?" He hit the bridge railing as I closed in. He raised his knife but quickly hid it.
I studied him and smiled, making him flinch. They'd amused me greatly. No point in killing or maiming. Why? Their blade was junk, more for show. They weren't seasoned killers—likely lads looking to fleece a stray aristocrat for a few hundred rubles to help their families or drink with friends.
In my Hunter life, I drank plenty, but life there was disposable. We lived for the day.
"Fine! But you'll owe me!"
"Owe what?" The thug frowned.
"A favor," I smiled. "Don't worry, you won't lose out!"
"Really?" The hustler perked up. "What's the job?"
"Don't know yet," I said honestly. "But I'll think of something. What's your name, wretch?"
"Pretzel… I mean, Vasya, Sorokin," my future accomplice mumbled, embarrassed.
"Where do I find you, Pretzel?"
"Everyone on Ligovka knows me!" He puffed up, realizing he wouldn't be beaten, and boldly spat on the pavement. "Ask anyone!"
"Good, Pretzel, but if… ahem… you act foolishly, my friend will find you!"
"What friend?" The robber grew uneasy again.
"This one!" I pointed behind him, where I'd conjured an illusion of a Night Devourer on the parapet—a harmless but terrifying bat-boar hybrid.
"Woo-oo-oo!" the illusion screeched.
"Aaah!" Pretzel yelped, scrambling away, sidling as if asking my permission to flee.
"He'll find and eat your brain!" I raised my voice so the fleeing thug could hear. "He'll definitely find you!"
Laughing heartily, I rolled my suitcase onward. I needed sleep and hoped no tempting widow awaited me at reception. As for Pretzel and his crew… I always preferred not-too-bright but loyal minions for simple, dirty tasks.
Maybe they'd get lucky, and I wouldn't need them. I hadn't planned my future yet. This damn Russian Empire—everything's so different. Learning the language doesn't mean mastering the laws and customs.
I had much work ahead.
"Pardon, but I must clarify," an older man at the reception desk inclined his head. "Are you aware of our hotel's rates, and will that pose no issue?"
"I'm aware," I nodded. "A room for three days, preferably a deluxe."
"All deluxe rooms are occupied," he replied automatically, checking his computer. "I can offer a semi-deluxe, but I wouldn't recommend it."
That was interesting. In the Prussian Principality, staff never dared such liberties.
They followed rules strictly, never stepping out of line.
"May I know why?" His behavior intrigued me.
"Your neighbors would be some rather… unruly aristocrats. They can be… problematic," he hesitated. "Your status is too low to avoid trouble with just your name."
It was refreshing when someone remained human, not a machine, unlike in my former principality.
"It's fine, I'll take it."
"I warned you," he shrugged, scanning my passport with a device.
Paying a hefty sum for the room, I realized how poor I was.
It was horrific and catastrophic. Not humiliating—I was furious! Where the hell would I get money? I couldn't just go out and offer to slay a griffin for a reward.
In my past world, poor Hunters didn't exist. Even in tough times, we could go to the Order and take any sum needed.
But that wasn't the only reason. A skilled, strong Hunter could earn anywhere. A weak, foolish one was likely dead.
"Go check out our neighbors," I sent Shnyrka to scout as I rode the elevator.
I reached my room without issue. Finding it was easy—only four rooms in this wing, three occupied, one mine.
Entering, I headed straight for the shower, then lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"I can't believe it… Am I really here?"
I passed out from exhaustion, waking early the next morning.
Whatever they said about the neighbors, they weren't around. Shnyrka showed me their room—trashed from a drunken party.
Morning was quiet, and I got to my tasks. First, I checked my suitcase. It took minutes, and my verdict: sparse. A favorite suit, various documents I might need, a few pairs of underwear, and socks.
That's all the great Lineage gave its scion for the road. Why not send me off naked? Like, "Go survive however you can."
Ugh, fine… I'd deal with it later.
I went to the lobby and asked the administrator to call a taxi. Ten minutes later, I was in a cheap car, looking at the driver.
"Where to?" he asked, staring ahead wearily.
"I need an electronics store," I replied, and we set off.
The driver was taciturn, but toward the end, he perked up, asking what I needed and where I was from.
He said he'd lived here his whole life and knew the best stores. For a tip, he'd take me to the very best. He asked about my Lineage, and I saw no reason to hide it. I told him I was from a long-dead Lineage and learned where the store was.
What I liked was his attitude—it didn't change. If anything, he spoke more respectfully.
In the Prussian Principality, every taxi was like an information desk. Ask anything, and they'd answer if they knew.
I had plenty to do, it seemed.
Interestingly, we passed a brawl between two Gifted aristocrats arguing over something on the road, settling it right there. The driver cursed and took a detour, costing us time.
I studied the city the whole way, memorizing it with my sharp memory. I planned to settle here, at least for a while…
Paying the driver and stepping out, I faced a massive shopping mall and, of course, had no idea where to go. The driver only said it was here. I paid triple the fare—he had no change, and I was out of small bills. He eyed my money greedily, so I quickly shut my wallet and noted not to flash cash. I wasn't used to counting these paper bills. Hunters used crystals and gold; in my principality, a credit card.
I sent Shnyrka to find the store I needed.
He located it instantly, mapping the route and even guiding me personally. He could move through shadows, visible only to me, traveling in another dimension. Only his master or another creature of that realm could see him.
In my past life, I could enter that realm briefly. It was tough, draining energy fast. But when a dragon breathed fire, it was the only way to dodge. Now, even if I wanted to, I couldn't get there.
"Can I help you?" A consultant approached, eyeing me with a strange expression… Greed?
"You can. I need a good work laptop and a phone," I ordered, sitting in a soft client chair without waiting for a reply.
The guy froze for a second, then grimaced and scurried off.
In this day and age, good tech is essential, and they didn't think—or want—to give me my things.
At minimum, I needed to study this country's laws and plan my next steps. My father's note instructed me to act at my discretion, which translated to: "Do what you want; it's your life now. If you die, I won't care much."
My consultant went behind the counter, glaring at me.
What did he expect? That I'd pretend to care about him? Screw that! He's service staff first. That mindset came from my noble family. Whenever I treated staff as equals out of good spirits, they saw it as weakness.
The consultant didn't say "sir" or greet me as befits a noble. My noble status was obvious, despite lacking a signet ring. He probably thought I was a bastard or unrecognized. Some minor Lineages only have papers, not family rings.
The consultant acted like an idiot, rushing to serve me, likely to humiliate me.
It was odd, but… I knew his type.
Minutes later, he returned empty-handed, though he should've brought my order.
"I'm afraid I can't help until you provide a bank statement proving sufficient funds," he sneered, now eyeing me smugly.
Bank statement? I don't even have a bank…
As far as I know, such a procedure is rare, even for commoners. But I gave him one more chance.
"Dear sir, I have enough cash to pay for my order. What's this clown show?"
"You can't buy communication devices with cash," the salesman sneered. "It's in the rules… But how would a yokel like you know?"
"Should I call the manager and suggest they fire you? Why should I show you anything?" I stood tall, approaching but not too close. "Or shall I take justice into my own hands? I could rip off an ear or break an arm. That wouldn't stop you from fulfilling my order."
Killing him would likely land me in jail. With a Lineage, I'd be bailed out. But he seemed sure no one would back me.
"Perfect!" The guy grinned, reaching into his pocket. "Now I have proof you threatened me. Note, this store belongs to the Kiryukhin Lineage. As their servant, I'm under their protection. That's a thousand rubles, or I'll send this recording to my masters, which means serious trouble. And trust me, not just financial!"
So that's it… Now I understood why he was so smug. He'd hatched a "clever" plan, fearing I wouldn't take the bait.
He held a phone, which might not even have a recording.
What would happen if it went further? His Lineage likely wasn't very prestigious or strong, meaning they had plenty of bravado. Taking down someone like me could boost their reputation.
Headlines would read: "Lineage Punishes Baron for Mortally Insulting Their Servant, and Thus the Entire Lineage!"
Pomp, our everything…
Now it made sense. The taxi driver sold me out—likely a practiced scheme. He scouts naive provincials, probing their wealth en route, then tips off his accomplice. Primitive but effective. A backwater provincial Lineage wouldn't dare challenge a capital one…
"Could you turn the recorder on again?" I asked politely, keeping my voice level.
The guy smirked.
"Apologies are nice, but they don't change the price," he said, gloating.
But he did as I asked, holding the phone so I could see it recording.
"I want these words on record," I said clearly, with emphasis. "I don't give a damn about your Lineage from on high, let alone your cheap scam, or you specifically. If not for the cameras here, you'd likely be dead. If your Lineage comes for revenge over some servant, they'll die too. That's all."
The guy paled, then grinned wider.
"You're in deep, buddy…" he dropped the formalities. "That raises the price to ten grand, minimum. And you know, even if you don't pay, I don't care. This recording will delight my master."
"I won't pay, though if you kneel and hold out your hands, I might give you a bun," I tilted my head, eyeing him like a fool. Then I opened my wallet, showing him the cash, pulling out a bill just enough for a decent bun. "Money'll be real useful in the afterlife."
That ended our talk. I left the store empty-handed, wasting time but gaining a lesson. Without papers—or in my case, a signet—you're nothing.
Did my destroyed Lineage have the privilege of a ring? I hoped so, or I'd have to earn it. I'd read it was easiest near Rifts.
Pushing through the mall's crowd, I headed to the aristocrats' restroom. They had one, and it was empty—perfect.
"Shnyrka, come out!" I ordered my pet.
He appeared on my shoulder, licking my cheek.
"You know what to do," I commanded.
Shnyrka had done this before and, I must say, loved it.