Where Worlds Collide and Days are Dark

14 November 2025
4:56 pm
On a Friday
Eskilborg, Prydania
ÖSU Headquarters

"Where is he?"

Asta Sæla looked up at Brigadier Marshal Kaleb Stahl. She adjusted her black rimmed glasses, which stood out against her fair skin and blonde hair, and gave the head of Army Intelligence an exasperated look.

"He's in there. And has been for two weeks now."

"Let me in."

Asta raised an eyebrow. The ÖSU wasn't, strictly speaking, a military outfit. Not formally, anyway. The Brigadier's rank didn't mean much here. In this building Max Hveiti was the lord and master of everything, and if he didn't want anyone to come in, well... no one short of the King himself could force the issue.

Still, Asta knew that in this case, it was for the best. She knew Stahl had just come from a meeting with the Prime Minister, and was no doubt here on his orders. She pressed the button to unlock the secured doors.

"Go on in," she said matter of factly. Stahl nodded and entered. Hveiti's office was always dark. And lacked any of the niceties- either modern minimalist elegance or traditional finery- one could expect from the head of a national spy agency. It was the fact that this building, like the ÖSU itself, was built by Max Hveiti post-War. And that meant the ÖSU Chief's office resembles a war room, with a wall of monitors feeding information along one wall.

Kaleb had been here many times. As the head of Army Intelligence, it fell to him to liaison with the ÖSU. Still, he'd never smelt it this rank.

"Good God, Max," he muttered.

Max was, for his part, lying on a couch tucked into a corner behind his desk.

"I should fire Asta for letting you in," Max muttered.

"When was the last time you showered?" Kaleb asked, ignoring that ridiculousness.

"Yesterday. Tuesday."

"Yesterday was Thursday."

"Was it?"

"Já. Is this where you've been? The Prime Minister can't get you on the line, and you're here wallowing in your own filth?"

"That seems rather dismissive. I prefer to think of it as recharging."

"Most people go on vacation for that," Kaleb muttered as he approached Max lying on the couch.
"Or at least they go home."

"Well I'm here. What does it matter?"

Kaleb rolled his eyes.
"If you want to feel sorry for yourself that's one thing. But your pity sessions don't get to grind a government agency to a halt. You may be shocked to find out the ÖSU is bigger than you. Or should be, anyway."

Max rolled his eyes as he pulled himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes as he adjusted his brown framed glasses. He was wearing sweat pants and a Skandan shirt, an odd mix of business and pleasure by Max's admittedly unorthodox fashion sense.

"My brain's been spooling tape for over twenty years, Kaleb. Maybe it was wearing thin for a while now... but the Ten Rings were what got it to skip and come undone. I need... time... to get myself thinking right again."

"Then take a leave of absence."

Max grunted.
"If the only difference between you coming to see me and lecturing me and you being content knowing I was trying to fix myself was me filing the right paperwork, then I've overestimated you. I thought you were someone capable of critical thought."

"Only you," Kaleb replied dismissively, "could consider not being psychic to be a personal failing."

Max just looked down at his feet, seemingly blankly. Before he uttered "what do you want, Kaleb?"

"I want to drag your sorry ass back to work. You're being ridiculous. The Ten Rings..."

"TRICKED! ME!"

Max screamed the words as he stood up, now face to face with Kaleb. The Brigadier could smell him, he hadn't showered in three days, but he thought it best to not say anything.

"An Iraelian ambassador was kidnapped and killed. Because they tricked me. They killed the President of Khastenia because they tricked me! People are dead in Sutherland. And Triple Collandria. And Ultramont. And Sil Dorsett because they tricked me. They almost nuked Saintes. Because they tricked me."

"I suppose I should congratulate you," Kaleb replied dryly.
"I had no idea you'd been made the head of national intelligence for Khastenia, Sutherland, Triple Collandria, Ultramont, Sil Dorsett, and Saintonge. Congratulations on your multiple promotions."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," Max growled.
"You're not smart enough to pull it off," he added as he bushed past Kaleb to sit down at his desk.

"What do you want me to say, Max? The Ten Rings operated under the noses of the entire world for thousands of years. Spy masters were fooled by them long before you were even alive to fail. You're being ridiculous. If anything, Saintes wasn't nuked in part because of the work you did and..."

"It wasn't enough," Max growled.
"I don't care how long the cockroaches managed to evade everyone, I should have caught them. I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure it out. I had all the pieces. The tentacles were everywhere from the Syrixians to the Messianist League, the war in Ducrijeka, the attack on the Andrennian Parliament, Prydania Today and Kurt Ventur Jr... I should have seen it coming. If I can figure out how I missed it, I can fix my brain."

"Sitting here in the dark, with nothing but the glow of computer monitors, for weeks isn't going to solve anything."

"And you think your pep talks will?"

"No, Max, I know you better than you think. You're not going to fix your thought process obsessing over past failures. You're going to fix it by focusing on something new."

"The Iterian folder?" Max asked.

"Já. A research station may have some answers regarding the Ten Rings. And some of my assets have begun talking about..."

"... von Klaw," Max muttered.
"Speaking of cockroaches. Should have figured he'd pop up again with the Satrap dead. But what does he want with an academic research expedition?"

"Well," Kaleb said with a smile, seeing Max actually getting invested in a new focus instead of wallowing in self pity, "that's what we'd like the ÖSU to find out."

"If you want to know von Klaw," Max muttered, "you need to go to Alaterva fist."

"Why?"

"Because Axle Skov is one of the only men alive to cross Herman von Klaw and live. You'll need to talk to him."

"No. We'll need to talk to him," Kaleb corrected him.

Max narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. He could tell exactly what was happening here. And was annoyed that it was working.

"Fine. Talk to Asta. I'll meet you up front with a car in an hour. But I'm guessing you don't want to smell me in that car for the long drive to Alaterva, so amuse yourself until then. I'm taking a shower."

15 November 2025
1:48 pm
On a Saturday
Himinfall
just outside of Alaterva, Prydania

"You're looking well," Kaleb said as Skov sipped some brennivín. Axle never really knew how to act with Kaleb Stahl. He'd spent thirteen years playing cat and mouse with him during the Civil War. He'd never really adjusted to him being "on his side." But he also wasn't going to make a scene about it. Not now.

"I'm bored as hell," Skov muttered.

"Well you shouldn't have resigned as the King's head of security," Max said bluntly as he sniffed his own glass of brennivín.

Axle didn't respond to that, and just smiled wryly.
"It's clear liquor, Max. It doesn't have a smell."

"That's what's disconcerting," Max replied coldly.
"But if you're bored," he said as he took a sip, "come to the ÖSU. We'd find a use for you."

"Well that's a bit of a problem. I'm bored as hell, but I don't know what I want to do. And I do not want to go back to the fokking ÖSU," Axle remarked. He looked out over the countryside surrounding them.

"You wound me, Axle," Max remarked, taking slow sips of his drink.

"Well you're no Jaðarlan Ráðsmaður," Axle muttered.
"Maybe not," Max replied.
"But I'm a step up from Skjaldulf Geirsson."

"That bar is so low it's on the floor," Axle replied with a sarcastic chuckle.

Max admittedly didn't know how to feel about that. He hated Skjaldulf Geirsson... but he also wouldn't be where he was without him. It was a tricky relationship. So he said nothing. Which was for the best. Kaleb was more a people person anyway.

"Well maybe we can provide a bit of excitement." He pushed some files across the table to Axle, who eyed them for a moment.

"Top secret. High stakes stuff. And the head of Army Intelligence and the head of the ÖSU is sharing them with me. I'm honoured."

"Herman von Klaw is poking around in Iteria," Max said, as he set his drink down. He hated brennivín.

"Of course he is," Axle replied.
"I crossed paths with him in Iteria, back in the 80s."

"Supremacy," Max said.

"Supremacy," Axle confirmed.
"He was going by 'The Architect' then. He was Kurt Ventur Sr's right hand man. Ironic, considering he only has a right hand."

"We didn't know it," Max added, "but they were part of the Ten Rings' network."

"No one knew it," Axle corrected him.
"The Ten Rings was just a fairy tale you told to spook new recruits in the secret service. Long before you even knew what a spy was, Max. Ventur, however, was a prolific arms dealer. And seeing as he was Prydanian, he became our problem. Von Klaw was the first big link in the chain that led me to him."

"You killed Ventur Sr, but not von Klaw," Kaleb mused.

"Not for lack of trying. I collapsed a building on him," Axle chuckled.
"After beating him at blackjack, you understand." Axle finished his drink and set the glass down.
"No one knew he'd survived until he popped back up, just after the Civil War."

"I don't think that was a coincidence," Max replied.
"He was in Ventur Sr's organization and popped up after Ventur Jr, working for the Ten Rings like his pabbi, began trying to destabilize the country. But neither him, or the Venturs, were truly tied into the Ten Rings. They were criminals who bought into the organization when they proved their worth, but the Ten Rings itself claimed descent from the Lost Empire."

"I was never one for archeology," Axle said with a shrug.
"I was more of a blunt instrument."

"Who was good at blackjack," Kaleb added.

"Something like that," Axle replied with a smile.

"There's an archeological dig in the deserts of Iraelia, right now," Max continued. "A Prydanian archeologist is a part of the expedition. A Dr. Lief Amundsen. The expedition is looking into a Lost Empire site. It's one of the most intact ones ever discovered. And Herman von Klaw is looking for it. It's curious. As I said, he's not of the Ten Rings, he's always been a criminal for hire. Allied, inducted into them perhaps, but he's never been tied into their esoteric belief system or sense of continuity with long dead empires. So why he's making moves around this expedition is curious. We believe he's looking to fill the vacuum left by the Satrap's death and looking for something at this expedition that can help him sway some straggling Ten Rings cells to his side."

"And what do you want from me?" Axle asked.
"I'm nearly eighty," he added.
"I'm not cut out for field work."

"No," Kaleb replied, "but you're one of the few men who have crossed Herman von Klaw and lived. We'd like to know what you have to say. Whoever we do send could use the help."

"There are two things to know about Herman von Klaw," Axle answered.
"The first is that he's considered every possible outcome to any situation. If he's entered the field, he already knows every possible outcome, and has planned for all of them. The second thing, is that he always, always stays once he gets above sixteen in blackjack."