“It’s an elegant way to conquer the world, I’ll give Joyce Faust that.” Sniper glared over at its enemy, half smiling. “Tell me, Dominic, I’m sure you of all people know: how did Joyce Faust convince Cornel MASON to adopt their child? Precedent says the Emperor can’t pass power to a Porphyrogene, but one look down there’s enough for anyone to tell whose name is really in the Sanctum Sanctorum in Alexandria.” Sniper pointed with its blade at MASON behind the Rostra, his face slick with tears. “Is Joyce Faust still sleeping with the Emperor? Or did they only do it back around when Jehovah was born? Nothing like sex to make a man consider a child theirs, whatever DNA says.”

“Blasphemy!” Dominic lunged like a mantis. “Thou, worm, hast put Tully Warmonger on the Rostra, risking World War, to lure Maître Jehovah to thy trap! He came today to bring peace to mankind, and thou interruptest that gift and assaultest His flesh, for what? To distract the masses from the exposure of thine own crimes! Villainy! Treason! A thousand times treason!”

Treason was a strange choice. Technically assault on a Romanovan Tribune was High Treason, but I suspect Dominic had in mind the more basic treason of a creation attacking the God Who had adopted it and its world, abandoned, as it seemed, by its own Maker.

“You’re the one trying to distract the masses,” Sniper shot back. “We all just heard Hotaka Andō say they think Jehovah—Tai-kun—is their child.” Sniper retreated around the square track of the porch roof, teasing Dominic’s blade with swift taps too irregular for its opponent to guess which might become a deadly thrust. “Madame even had Danaë make sure Andō wouldn’t sire any other heir. Your Jehovah Mason would have inherited all Andō’s shares and clients, and Andō even let them sit on the Directorate, the unofficial Tenth Director, poised to take control of the Mitsubishi when the other nine are arrested for their involvement in the assassinations.”

Dominic slashed hard, taking advantage of his rapier’s weight, which threatened to knock the light sport epée from Sniper’s hand. “That has always burned thee, hasn’t it, blasphemer? That there was an extra voice in the Directorate which would never accept murder as a means. How many more problems wouldst thou and thy base masters have tried to solve through blood if Maître Jehovah’s Love for humankind had not restrained thee?”

Sniper paid back the taunt by scoring the first touch, its blade sipping blood from Dominic’s elbow. “I cracked Gordian’s files. Felix Faust has already assigned ‘J. E. Donatien Mason and associates’ as Gordian’s new Brain-bash’. That includes you, doesn’t it, Dominic? Is it fun being in Gordian’s controlling think tank?”

The injury did not slow Dominic, or speed him, his rage already the maximum flesh can conjure. “Violating Romanova alone is not enough for thee, is it? Thou’rt set on wounding every Hive before thou goest down, just like thy beloved Mycroft Canner!”