Season 1 chapter 6
The River of Filth
Kniya and Malesh didn't stop running until they reached the industrial drainage sector near the textile mills.
"We can't use the main bridges," Malesh panted, wiping mud from his face. "They will be completely blocked. The blueprints showed a drainage outflow that leads straight to the riverbank."
The drainage tunnel was a complete nightmare. It was a long, dark iron pipe half-filled with thick chemical sludge that burned their noses and made their eyes water.
"Oh god," Malesh gagged, pulling his collar up. "This smells like rotting meat and sulfur."
"Just keep crawling," Kniya muttered, leading the way through the dark. "Don't complain about the smell. We are almost at the border."
They slogged through the sludge for what felt like hours, dodging the red eyes of massive river rats scurrying along the overhead pipes. Finally, the tunnel widened, and the cool moonlight reflected off the water. They crept out of the pipe, hiding in the thick reeds right underneath the shadow of the massive Iron Bridge.
The Intake
The water inside the pipe was freezing, and the current slammed them around until they got spat out onto a metal walkway inside a massive, humid boiler room.
Malesh lay flat on the iron grating, coughing up dirty river water and checking his uniform. "We are completely covered in slime, Kniya. This uniform is entirely ruined."
Kniya scrambled to his feet, checking the heavy weapon. It was dripping wet, but the bolt still moved.
"Forget the clothes, Malesh," Kniya said, popping a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth. "We are inside the building. The gun is dry, the bolt is moving, and we have the twelve bullets. Let's go find the files."
Malesh stood up, looking at the rifle in Kniya's hands. "You are still carrying that three-foot-long iron stick? It is incredibly heavy and highly inefficient for a stealth run."
"What do you want me to do, throw it in the furnace?" Kniya scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We stole it, we keep it. If a guard walks through that door right now, I am not going to throw a handful of sand at him. I am going to use this iron stick to hit him over the head. Now follow me up the ladder."
The Boiler Room Ascent
They climbed the metal ladder slowly, the narrow rungs slippery with condensation. The air got hotter the higher they went. Peering through the metal grating of the floor above, they could see the heavy boots of grey-uniformed soldiers patrolling the main hallway.
They reached the top of the shaft. Kniya peeked through a small vent cover, which opened into a dimly lit storage closet filled with mops and wooden buckets.
"Clear," Kniya whispered. He pushed the vent panel open, and they scrambled out onto the floor, leaving the noise of the boiler room behind.
They stepped out into the basement hallway of the Naurkov Administrative Building. The floor was polished marble, reflecting the gas lamps on the walls. The corridor was quiet.
"Room 104," Kniya whispered, reading the brass numbers on the wood. "Department of Military Expenditure."
They crept down the hall, hugging the walls. Suddenly, loud voices approached. Two officers were walking past, casually discussing their dinner plans. Kniya grabbed Malesh and pulled him behind a heavy velvet curtain just as the officers walked past, their medals jingling loudly.
The moment the hallway was empty, Kniya darted across the floor to the heavy oak door marked 104. It was locked.
"Move," Kniya whispered. He pulled a thin metal pick from his uniform pocket and jammed it into the keyhole. He twisted it violently until the lock clicked.
The Transfer Notes
The room smelled of cigar smoke and ink, lined from floor to ceiling with heavy filing cabinets.
"Okay," Malesh said, his hands shaking slightly as he looked at the drawers. "The Central Library logbook gave us the date. Cycle 1413, Month of Iron. Look for the transaction records."
They split up, frantically pulling open the drawers. Malesh pulled a thick ledger from the back of a cabinet, flipping past boring records of coal purchases until his fingers stopped dead on a single sheet of paper. It was the original bank authorization slip bearing the official state stamps.
"Kniya. Look."
Kniya rushed over, his eyes widening as he read the columns.
• Transfer Amount: 5,320,000,000 DI'an Credits.
• Source: National Defense Fund.
• Destination: Private Account #882 - The Golden Trust.
And right at the bottom was a bold, wet-ink signature signed by the man himself: Knorwin Klove.
"Ah, Malesh!" Kniya laughed under his breath, a wide grin breaking through the dirt on his face. "Looks like we found the motherfucker who is responsible for the things we are now facing. He didn't even try to hide the paperwork well."
Kniya carefully folded the original transaction slip and tucked it deep into his inside uniform pocket, buttoning it tightly.
"So what should we do now?" Malesh asked flatly, looking at the door. "Do we leak this to the press? The newspapers are completely controlled by the state, Kniya. They won't print it."
"No, leaking it is a peasant move," Kniya smirked. "The best thing is blackmail. What do you think about it? It is a much better option. You told me about your book idea earlier, Bribe: The Essentials of Life. Well, my book is going to be named Blackmail: The Part of Life."
Malesh adjusted his collar, completely expressionless. "The profit margins on blackmail are technically superior to bribery anyway. But first... we have to get out of here alive."
The Walk to the Lion's Den
The trek from the Naurkov Archives straight to the Military Headquarters was only two miles, but in a city occupied by thirty thousand soldiers, it felt like crossing an absolute ocean of solid steel.
Kniya and Malesh stayed entirely in the deep shadows of the industrial alleys, their uniforms torn and covered in sewer grease. Every few minutes, a blinding searchlight from a passing armored carriage would cut through the thick smog, forcing them to press their small bodies flat into the filth of the gutters to stay unseen.
"My heart is hitting my ribs like a hammer, Kniya," Malesh whispered flatly, his voice maintaining its monotone rhythm. "Look at the checkpoint at the end of the block. There are ten soldiers stationed there, all holding rifles."
Kniya didn't even look scared. He just pop-clicked his gum, looking completely disgusted by the security. "Look at those idiots," Kniya spat, nodding toward the checkpoint. "Standing out there in the freezing cold, protecting a system that steals their wages to buy silk and gold for a fat pig like Klove. They are fucking pawns, Malesh. Don't be afraid of pawns."
They moved like ghosts. Kniya utilized the "dead zones" in the city's lighting—places where the gas lamps were broken or the fog was too thick for the searchlight lenses to penetrate. They climbed over rusted iron fences, dropped through empty coal chutes, and scurried across rooftops.
At the final bridge leading directly to the Headquarters, they had to crawl through a suspended maintenance pipe over the churning river. The wind was howling, and the freezing iron bit into their bare hands.
"If we fall, we are completely dead," Malesh whispered.
"Then don't fucking fall," Kniya hissed back, adjusting the heavy rifle strap on his shoulder. "Think about the paper sitting in my pocket. This isn't just a document, Malesh. This is the leash. We are about to put a heavy leather collar on the biggest dog in Seistain."
They reached the opposite bank, dropping silently onto the manicured grass of the Headquarters' rear lawn. The massive stone building loomed over them like a fortress. Moving with perfect synchronization, they slipped through a rear service entrance meant for the laundry staff, moving past steaming vats of boiling water and rows of grey uniforms waiting to be pressed, heading straight for the upper floors.
The Breach
They reached the top floor using the back elevator, the one used for hauling coal to the General's private fireplace. Kniya stood near the iron grate doors. His stolen military rifle was resting heavily in his hands.
When the elevator doors hissed open, they stepped out into a plush, carpeted hallway that smelled strongly of expensive tobacco.
Two guards stood right at the far end of the hall, looking completely bored out of their minds. Kniya didn't hesitate for a single second. He looked at Malesh and pointed to the heavy wooden stock of his rifle.
"Use the butt of the gun," Kniya whispered. "Hit them hard, or we are dead."
They sprinted down the hallway in total silence. The guards barely had time to turn their heads before Kniya aggressively swung his rifle and slammed the heavy wooden butt straight into the first guard's temple. The man went down instantly. Malesh followed up, snatching a heavy glass decanter from a side table and smashing it directly over the second guard's head, knocking him completely unconscious on the carpet.
Kniya didn't even waste time checking to see if they were breathing. Meanwhile, Malesh calmly bent down over the unconscious guard, prying the standard-issue military rifle from the man's limp hands and checking the chamber.
"I am not walking into a hostile boardroom empty-handed," Malesh stated flatly, racking the bolt. "That would be completely stupid."
Armed with his newly acquired rifle, Malesh stood up. Kniya raised his heavy boot and forcefully kicked the massive mahogany doors wide open, marching straight into the executive office.