The Order of Architects (Book 7): A Portal Progression Fantasy Series, page 50
Oleg Sapphire
Yuri Vinokuroff
The Order of Architects
Book 7
A Portal Progression Fantasy Series
Published by Magic Dome Books
The Order of Architects
Book # 7
Copyright © Oleg Sapphire, Yuri Vinokuroff 2025
Cover Art © Linni 2025
Cover designer: Vladimir Manyukhin
English translation copyright © Christopher Michael Jarrett 2025
Published by Magic Dome Books, 2025
ISBN: 978-80-7702-034-3
All Rights Reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.
New and upcoming releases from
Magic Dome Books!
If you like our books and want to keep reading, download our FREE Publisher's Catalog, a must-read for any LitRPG fan which lists some of the finest works in the genre:
Tales of Wonder and Adventure: The Best of LitRPG, Fantasy and Sci-Fi (Publisher's Catalog)
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About The Authors
Chapter 1
The Ministry of Defense of the Russian Empire
St. Petersburg, the Russian Empire
DUKE ALEXANDER PETROVICH POTYOMKIN, the Russian Empire’s minister of defense, frowned as he studied the report that his aide had just handed him. Calling it a frontline update would be a stretch — it was more like a field dispatch. Potyomkin shook his head discontentedly. The situation in Liechtenstein, that tiny principality, barely visible on the map, was becoming more and more complicated. Despite all of the Russian Empire’s diplomatic protests, Austria-Hungary was continuing its provocations at the border.
Potyomkin heaved a deep sigh, pushed the report to one side, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t like all this,” he muttered.
At that moment, Nikolay Alekseyevich Kerensky, the Empire’s security chief, walked into the office.
“I see you’re hard at work, as ever, Alexander,” he said, going over to the desk and sitting down opposite the minister. “What’s the situation at the front?”
“You know full well,” Potyomkin grunted, shooting a measuring glance at his colleague, “so why ask?”
Kerensky laughed.
“Well, I just wanted to hear your opinion,” he replied with a shrug. “Have you got any ideas?”
“Tons,” Potyomkin replied, “but none of them fit into what you might call ‘diplomatic etiquette.’”
“You’re right,” Kerensky remarked with a nod. “The situation is complex. We’re under unparalleled pressure from all sides. Prussia’s still breathing down our necks, the Ottoman Empire has now gotten involved too, and the Austro-Hungarians are denying everything. Nothing new. We’re still under pressure. I get the feeling that they’re all preparing for something more serious. And His Imperial Majesty still hasn’t made a final decision…”
“He still hasn’t made a decision?” Potyomkin glanced over at his colleague, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Does he think time’s still on our side? While he’s sitting there ruminating, we’re going to get eaten alive, dammit!”
Kerensky merely spread out his arms calmly.
“The emperor has his own… tactics. He’s convinced it’ll all get resolved through diplomacy.”
“Diplomacy?! Those diplomats of his couldn’t give a damn about what’s going on. They live in their own little world, where all their problems get solved by fancy talk and signing documents.”
Potyomkin curled his lips in contempt as he recalled a recent diplomatic reception at which he’d been present in person. He’d had to stand there and watch as that bunch of smooth talkers went around smiling and patting each other on the back, acting like everything was fine, while behind the scenes, each of them was itching to drive the knife in deeper.
Ignoring Potyomkin’s angry outburst, Kerensky continued:
“On the other hand, Your Eminence,” he said quietly, “diplomatic channels are the only thing we have right now.”
“All right, Nikolay, enough of that,” the minister replied. “Tell me about the current situation in Liechtenstein.”
“Nothing new to report,” Kerensky informed him with a shake of the head. “The situation is pretty messed up, and the people are getting nervous. All railroads into Liechtenstein have been blocked. However, the enemy has yet to attack. My department has been using various secret channels to transfer weapons and equipment there using airships and cargo planes belonging to our allies whose airspace is still freely accessible. We’re having to be very careful, however, as one of our accords with Austria-Hungary specifies that we’re not allowed to send in any military units or heavy vehicles, just humanitarian aid, provisions, and medical supplies.”
Potyomkin frowned.
“And you call them allies?”
Kerensky shrugged.
“It’s just realpolitik. You know how it is. They’re helping us as much as they can. The thing is, they’ve got to be careful, too. They’re up to their ears in their own problems. So what we’re doing is hiding weapons in crates of flour and sugar, and half our truck drivers are intelligence agents.”
“We’re smuggling them in?” Potyomkin laughed. “I thought the main problem was dealing with that impudent Boschild?”
“You’re right about that,” Kerensky nodded. “Boschild might be a cowardly bastard who’d sell you out at the drop of a hat, but the real problem is, he’s also a clueless buffoon who constantly tries to take all the credit for things himself. He might yet prove willing to betray the emperor and defect to the Austro-Hungarians, if they promise he can keep his title and land, of course. However… in one crucial respect, he has outsmarted us. We wanted to send in some people who know what they’re doing to organize the defense of the principality, but…”
“You couldn’t?” Potyomkin surmised.
“They wouldn’t let our guys in,” Kerensky explained. “The two generals who were to go and sort it all out got turned away at the airport. No explanation. They just got told there was a ‘problem with their documents’ and were sent back.”
“You’re the head of Imperial security — do you even know who gave them those orders?” Potyomkin snorted.
“It’s not quite that simple,” Kerensky replied, spreading out his hands.
“So what you’re actually saying,” remarked Potyomkin with a wry chuckle, “is that our intelligence agents in Liechtenstein are doing a crap job? I get it.” He nodded. “Boschild is a cunning bastard who’s used to doing things his own way and doesn’t listen to anyone except himself. But if you, Nikolay, can’t figure out who’s disrupting our work, then… I don’t even know what to say.”
“I’m working on it,” Kerensky replied, slightly embarrassed. “Boschild might be a real piece of work, but the thing is, he’s got some useful connections in the Empire. It may be that some of the big cheeses have decided to support him. In any case, I’ve already started working on it.”
Potyomkin looked over at him curiously.
“So what do you suggest?”
“I do have one idea,” Kerensky replied, glancing back at the minister with a cunning smile.
“Well, spit it out,” Potyomkin said impatiently.
“You remember I was telling you about Theodore the Babylonian? The guy who’s currently in Liechtenstein?” Kerensky began.
“Of course,” Potyomkin replied with a nod. “I’ve already gone through all our information about him.”
“So here’s the thing…” Kerensky continued. “You remember I told you about them building those fortifications on the border?”
“Yes.” Potyomkin nodded again. “What about them?”
“They’re being built by a firm called ‘Konstruktor.’”
“Isn’t that the company the Babylonian owns? If those fortifications are as impregnable as that tower he built to repel the Austrians, then Liechtenstein has really struck lucky with their contractor,” Potyomkin remarked with a wry chuckle.
“Except, the thing is, Boschild has set him up. He got the Babylonian to sign a contract that was impossible to complete.”
“Oh boy…” said Potyomkin at length, pensively scratching his head. “Boschild probably thinks that the younger Babylonian simply won’t be able to fulfill the contract. All those resources and materials… Reports suggest things are really bad over there in that respect right now.”
“Exactly,” Kerensky replied, nodding. “Boschild has probably already come up with a plan that’ll allow him to seize everything the younger Babylonian owns when he fails to complete the contract. And it’ll all be totally legal. It’s a smart move, I’ve got to say. So I’ve already invited Aristarchus the Babylonian, the head of the Dynasty, to see us.”
“What?!” Potyomkin looked at his colleague incredulously. “The same Aristarchus who just sits on his ass at the Iron General’s estate and squanders his inheritance? Why him?”
“Well, if he’s the head of the Dynasty, he has to take responsibility for his relatives’ actions,” Kerensky explained, gesturing with his hands. “And also… he’s Theodore’s father, so he might be able to shed some light on some of the… murkier parts of the kid’s biography. After all, judging by what we already know, the young man isn’t as simple as he seems at first glance.”
“Good idea,” Potyomkin replied with a nod. “Let’s invite the elder Babylonian and his wife here. Who could tell us more about Theodore the Babylonian than his parents?”
“My hope is that this meeting will allow us to get answers to all our questions,” remarked Kerensky, glancing over at Potyomkin with a wry smile.
* * *
I was standing at the observation post that I’d set up at the top of one of my fortress’s towers.
Unlike the first two days of the war, when dark storm clouds loomed over the skies of Liechtenstein, today's weather was perfect — the sun was shining brightly, and a light breeze from the mountains gently caressed my face.
Grimrock was leaning on the stone railing and watching what I was doing.
“I’ve always wanted to ask how it works,” he said. “I mean, I get that it’s your magic.”
“It's similar to your Gift,” I replied, not looking up from the task at hand. “Except you see the world through your eyes, and I see it through nearby objects, the earth, and stone.”
My small but nimble stone reconnaissance spiders, which I’d placed all around the perimeter of the fortress, began to transmit information to me. One after another, signals began showing up in my mind, like blips on a radar screen.
“They’re heading our way,” I whispered, sensing a huge body of soldiers and vehicles approaching. “They’re moving fast along the road and not using cover.”
Grimrock squinted and looked into his binoculars.
“Austrians?” he asked.
“Uh-huh…” I replied with a nod, continuing to scan the area. “But they still don’t know what’s going on. They were just alarmed by the fact that they lost contact with their men.”
“So they can’t communicate with them?” A cunning smile appeared on Grimrock’s face. “What kind of crappy comms system do they have if it’s acting up this badly?”
“I made sure they had issues with their comms. All the transmitters inside the fortress are only working internally. I’ve silenced all external communications.”
“So they can’t contact their men and have decided to attack anyway,” remarked Grimrock as he watched the outlines of armored vehicles appear in the distance like a pack of predators.
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “And this time they’re well-armed. They know what to expect.”
My recon golems were reporting that a whole motorized infantry regiment, equipped with artillery and tanks, was headed our way.
“Well, Uncle Kirill,” I said with a smile, “have you missed proper battles?”
“Damn right, I have!” Grimrock stroked the grip of his sniper rifle, which was lying nearby. “There are a lot of them, though,” he remarked after a moment’s pause to look through his binoculars. “Almost a thousand, and there are only thirty of us. Are you sure we want to fight them?”
The Austrians did look impressive. A convoy of tanks was heading in our direction like a steel fist, followed by a line formation of infantrymen, all armed with cutting-edge technical equipment.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” I replied calmly. “We’re expecting guests.” Then, noticing a look of alarm appear on Grimrock’s face, I added, “Don’t worry, Uncle Kirill, I’ve thought it all through right down to the last detail.”
At that moment, our car arrived at the fortress. Three people got out — Boris, a young cameraman, and a young woman with blonde hair.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, walking over to them once they’d ascended the tower. “I take it you were warned that this is going to be a dangerous job?”
“Yeah, we were warned,” the girl replied obligingly, holding out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Darya Malinovsky, an independent correspondent for the Liechtenstein Today channel. We’ve been told all about what’s going on. But we were also told how much money you’re offering. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No,” I said, smiling and shaking her hand. “It’s all good. Just stay here for the time being. The fun will be starting very soon.”
“You probably won’t believe me,” she continued, smiling, “but to be honest, it’s not the money that I’m most bothered about. I just want to get one up on Liechtenstein 24. Those goddamn monopolists keep on suppressing the truth!”
“How come you hate them so much? Did they not hire you for work or something?” I asked her.
“I wouldn’t touch those bloodsucking bastards with a barge pole!” Darya curled her lips in contempt to show what she thought of the principality’s “official” TV channel.
“Well, if that’s true, then I admire your sense of principle,” I remarked.
“So you just invited me here randomly without checking who I was exactly?” Darya asked with a wry smile.
“You can think whatever you want,” I replied with a shrug.
I remarked to myself that the Shadow Fighters had once again come up trumps. Since I didn’t trust the information politics that went on in Liechtenstein, I’d decided to find my own correspondent. I’d called Andrey Sorokin and asked him to tell me if he knew of anyone suitable — someone independent and unbiased. Without hesitation, Andrey had given me Darya’s number.
On several occasions, the articles that she published on her opposition website had caused major scandals. People had sought to intimidate her with threatening phone calls — they’d set fire to her car, and once, she’d even had the severed head of a rat pushed under her front door. But Darya hadn’t backed down. She’d continued to write about what was going on in the principality, exposing lies and corruption and criticizing the authorities’ actions.
“What do you need us to do?” she asked, looking around curiously.
“Climb up that tall tower,” I said, pointing at a small viewing platform nearby. “You’ll have a good view of all your surroundings from up there. Did you bring some good lenses with you, like I asked?”
“We rented some,” the cameraman replied. He was a tall, strong young man with a huge black equipment box hanging from his shoulder. “If we break them, we’ll owe the renters a fortune.”
“Don’t worry about money,” I said. “The most important thing is that the image is nice and clear.”
“In that case, why are we going to be stationed so far away?” Darya asked.
“Because things are going to get rather rowdy down here,” I explained. “I’ll give you a radio so you can stay in contact, and I’ll give you some tips as to what you could say.”
I handed them a radio and pointed at a distant stone tower that rose up over the surrounding forest before adding, “Your job is to go up there and start filming.”
“Great!” Darya replied with a nod. “We’ll take care of everything.”
My men accompanied them to the viewing platform, which was essentially a full-fledged bunker that I’d built using my magic.
“Theodore,” said Grimrock, walking over to me. “Do you still want to fight them?”
“Damn right I do,” I replied, looking up at the cloudless sky.
“No need to worry about that. We’re not going to get attacked from the sky,” Grimrock reassured me, noticing the direction of my gaze. “I just spoke with General Vasilyev. He said they’ve gotten their old but reliable air defenses out of storage. Also, Prince Boschild is so afraid for his own life and his land that he hastily bought a couple of anti-aircraft installations from his neighbors for crazy money just to protect himself. Bearing in mind that Liechtenstein is so small, our airspace is well covered for the time being.”
