Mike went downstairs for his combat training attestation. On the floor in the reception room, he was met by an attendant in a dark gray kimono.

"Good afternoon, Major Mike de Graaf has arrived for attestation," Mike said with a polite bow.

"Good afternoon," the guy replied with his hand, pointing Mike to the nearest chair to his desk. Mike sat down and handed him his papers.

"Yes, you are on the list," the guy said after a while, as soon as he found his name in the journal. "I'll fill out your papers now. It does not take much time."

And in just a couple of minutes, he finished filling out the papers.

"Come with me, I'll show you to the training hall," he said to Mike, getting up from the desk.

Mike followed the guy, having walked a little along a long corridor, they stopped near a wide door. The guy opened the door, inside was a vast high hall, brightly lit. The hall was practically empty, in the center there was a low round elevation with a diameter of 10 meters for training. Near the right wall were long racks with training weapons of various shapes and lengths. Near the far wall were various exercises and power training equipment, on which a couple of people worked. There was also a door to the next room. On the left side, not far from the entrance, there was a table at which sat an elderly man in a white kimono.

"Sir," the guy turned to him with a bow. "Mike de Graaf has arrived for a combat training attestation."

"Okay," he said after he looked at Mike. "Leave the papers, I'll take care of it myself."

"Okay, sir."

He bowed again, putting the documents on the table, then turned and left.

"Long time no see Mike," the man said to Mike.

"Yeah, long time no see sensei," Mike agreed with him.

An elderly man - Colonel Tees Eidengraf, head of the combat training department of the capital's foreign intelligence department. Everyone who went through his training usually called him sensei, including Mike.

"Go change, I'll be waiting for you," he told Mike.

"Yes sensei," Mike answered him, bowed, and went to the locker room.

"It says in the papers that you had a wound," the Colonel asked when Mike returned from the locker room.

Mike changed into a dark gray kimono - drawstring pants and an overshirt with drawstrings and loose sleeves. And he's barefoot.

"Yes, there was a wound," Mike replied. “They quickly treated me and after a couple of weeks I didn’t even feel it anymore.”

"Okay, let's check then," said the Colonel. "Take the practice weapon."

Mike went to the shelves and without hesitation took a one-handed sword with a thin blade under his right hand and a carpal shield in the other hand. All training weapons were made of wood to minimize injury during training.

The colonel came up next and also chose a weapon for himself - two swords. One was one-and-a-half, a so-called bastard sword, and the other one was one-handed.

“First of all, we will check your reaction, then your weapon handling technique. In the end, you will pass a time test at a testing ground where the use of magic is allowed. Well, you already know this. It's not the first time you've been tested. So that…"

Without finishing, the colonel made a sharp lunge with his one-handed sword, aiming at Mike's right shoulder. Even expecting something like this, Mike barely managed to deflect the attack with his sword to the side. Yet the difference in skill and strength between him and the colonel was great. Without letting Mike come to his senses for the next blow, the colonel delivered a chopping blow from top to bottom with a bastard sword.

The sparring lasted almost an hour. And he gathered around those few who were present in the hall. Mike used not only the sword and shield but also other weapons. Among them were a two-handed sword, a spear, axes, and even a whip. The last weapons Mike used were two one-handed swords. Despite the severe fatigue and aching hands, for all the time Mike received only a few bruises.

"Not bad," the Colonel said at the end of the sparring. "You definitely have improved coordination and a little bit of stamina."

"Thank you sensei," Mike answered breathlessly.

Unlike him, the Colonel's breathing didn't change, as if the hour-long sparring hadn't happened.

"Five minutes of rest, and then a test site."

The test site was a long hall 120 meters long and 15 meters wide and was an obstacle course, a three-dimensional labyrinth. It was necessary to overcome this obstacle course, avoiding both traps, magic, and the fire of a potential enemy, and at the end of the obstacle course, touch the indicated sphere. There were five spheres in total. Each had its unique color. The color of the sphere was named after overcoming half the distance. It was important not only to avoid "fatal" wounds but also to show the shortest possible time. You could only use your own magic, without artifacts.

"Well? Ready Mike," asked the Colonel.

"Yes."

"Then...begin," he commanded.

"Minute fifty-seven," the Colonel commented as Mike touched the target sphere and the obstacle course deactivated.

"Minute fifty-seven," the Colonel repeated once more as Mike returned to the start of the obstacle course.

Then he examined Mike for “wounds”. There were two of them - the left shoulder and the right shin, judging by the changed color of the clothes. Both injuries are minor.

“Two minor wounds. And in the last certification you had two minutes and seventeen seconds and three light “wounds”," the colonel looked at the papers. "Substantial progress."

"Yeah, but I'm far from a record," Mike said.

The obstacle course record was 17 seconds and could not be beaten for 120 years. The Colonel's private record was 42 seconds.

"It's true. Go get changed while I fill out your papers.”

"Alright sensei."

Quickly changing clothes, Mike took the completed papers.

“I hope to see you in training Mike," the colonel asked him. "As I told you before, you have an excellent technique with a variety of weapons and excellent coordination of movements. Your presence in training would help me cope with the newcomers."

"Sorry, sensei, but I won’t be in the capital for long. I'm being sent on a new mission."

"Sadly. Take care of yourself there then."

"Thank you sensei," bowing, Mike then left the training room.

Returning to his department, he found only Lieutenant Caroline de Tarro there.

"Where are the others, they haven't returned yet," he asked her.

"No, they came. But now in a cafe. Should be back soon."

"Is there anything significant?"

“No sir. Or rather, not really. Captain Crocan himself asked for the mission."

"Himself?" Mike was surprised to hear this.

"Yes sir."

"Any details?"

"Better if Captain Nights tells you, sir."

The others returned fifteen minutes later. Upon seeing Mike, Captain Nights said, "Sir. You're back. And we have some interesting news. Captain Crocan himself asked for a mission to the Kingdom of Irid."

"Any details," Mike asked him.

"Yes. As it turned out Captain Crocan was acquainted with the analyst Lieutenant Selvi Meyer, who wrote an analytical note on the kingdom of Irid."

"I read her note at the meeting," Mike confirmed.

"Yes, she and the captain discussed it. And he had the idea to go there, and as soon as the authorities had such a need, he proposed his candidacy."

"I see. What kind of relationship did they have?"

"The lieutenant stated that they were exceptionally friendly."

"You need to take a closer look at her. And her personal file must be taken."

"Yes sir. I'll take care of it," Captain Nights confirmed.

"Good. And take the case of Captain Jane Ahrim, the coroner who went to Artea with Captain Drake. And someone needs to go talk to Selvi Meyer's neighbors. Maybe something interesting will come up."

"Sir, if you don't mind, then Lieutenant Pryte and I will take care of Selvi Meyer's neighbors," Captain Shtof turned to Mike.

"I don't mind," Mike replied and added, "What about Captain Drake?"

"Nothing much, sir," replied Captain Nights. “He was chosen as a person who had already been and worked in Artea. He did not particularly want to go, but he did not argue with the order. He met Selvi Meyer first when he received the assignment, before being sent to Artea.

"Okay, then we'll work with what we have," Mike said.

At the end of the working day, Mike stood on General Square, waiting for the carriage of public route number 15, which ran from General Square to the central district of the capital. There was a bookstore known to him, where he was going to buy various newspapers and journals for Efi. Route number 15 was quite popular and the carriage traveled at intervals of 15 minutes with stops at strictly designated places.

Mike was fifth in line and had to wait no more than 10 minutes. By the time the carriage arrived, the line was already one and a half dozen people.

A self-propelled carriage approached. It was large, though still shorter than the usual horse-drawn carriages. The driver and usher sat in front on special seats. The carriage itself was with many windows. In fact, the entire upper part was with solid glass, and in the center was a wide door.

When the carriage stopped the usher went down and opened the door. Several passengers who were inside got out. Then he loudly announced the route and the tax - one silver coin and then began to let in new passengers in turn.

When Mike went inside, he saw an empty carriage, only four people in front of him took their places. There were 16 seats in total with a central aisle between them. Mike took a free single-seat closer to the exit. When all the seats were filled the carriage set off.

"East Square," the usher announced loudly. This was Mike's stop. Mike and a couple of other people got off, then the other three got on and the carriage drove away.

The bookstore was at a distance of a couple minute walk from the carriage stop, on a side street.

A small sign «Books» announced Mike's end goal. The bookstore was relatively small but occupied two of the three floors in a building. The third floor, as far as Mike knew, was residential for the store owners. Newspapers and journals were mainly sold on the ground floor. There was also a reading area with several tables.

Now they were empty and on the ground floor, besides the woman at the counter and Mike, there was only one more man who was choosing a magazine for himself. Mike went to the counter.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Edenmyer," he greeted the woman.

Mrs. Edenmyer was the wife of the shop owner, and she usually handled sales on the first floor of the shop. She was already an older woman, like her husband.

"O. goddess. It's sir de Graaf," she exclaimed. “I haven't seen you in forever. Where have you gone?"

"I was abroad for work," Mike told her.

"How interesting."

"Not very. Sand, heat, and no civilization."

"Wow...But now that you're back, you can enjoy all the benefits of civilization," she smiled at Mike.

"Alas, I must disappoint you. Soon I will have to go abroad again," Mike told her.

"What a pity," she sighed, and then added. "You probably need to gather information, not the secret of course, on the place where you will go?"

"Not quite, Mrs. Edenmayer. I'll be sure to look to you for such information before going abroad. But now I need something else."

"And what do you need?"

"You see. I was absent for almost a whole year and now I am not familiar with what happened in the capital and around this time. I will be especially grateful for some info collections and chronicles."

"Do you have anything specific in mind?"

"I need “Bulletin of the Trade Union”, “Economic Bulletin”, “Provincial Chronicle”. In general, everything related to politics and economics over the past year. Let's say a two dozen titles, plus a couple of fresh newspapers."

“This is a big order, sir de Graaf. It will take some time to assemble it. I think you'd better sit down at the table while I get you what you need. In the meantime, I will give you fresh newspapers, read them."

"Thank you Mrs. Edenmayer," Mike told her, then took the newspapers from her and went to the reading area.

Twenty minutes later, Mike had a stack of two dozen items on his desk.

"I brought “Bulletin of the Trade Union”, “Economic Bulletin”, and “Provincial Chronicles” as you ordered. Plus the “Political Observer” for the last year and the reports of our government, also for the last year."

"Thank you Mrs. Edenmayer. I think I'll take everything."

"All?" she asked.

"Yeah, all," Mike confirmed. "I have a lot to catch up on in a short amount of time."

"Aren't you interested in magical info collections and reviewers? I remember you ordered these several times."

"Sorry, not now," Mike apologized. "Maybe next time."

"I see, then let me calculate how much you have. Let's go to my counter. And I’ll call an assistant now to pack everything for you."

"Okay," Mike nodded affirmatively.

After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Edenmyer finished counting.

"Sir de Graf for you - one gold and 10 silver."

Mike took out his wallet and counted out the required amount and put it on the table.

Mrs. Edenmyer took the coins and thanked him. "Thank you for your purchase, Sir de Graaf."

"Thanks to you, Mrs. Edenmyer," he replied with mutual courtesy.

At this time, the assistant brought a leather bag with a packaged order.

"Have a nice day," Mike said goodbye and took the leather bag.

"Good day to you too," replied Mrs. Edenmyer.