Kalakia turned to a follow-up report by the Tallinn Police the following day, signed by a Frani Fullda:
11.03.1996
A boy, aged seven years (estimate) and identity unknown, was today taken into the custody of Tallinn Police and moved from the home of Mr. Kraas Abel to East Tallinn Central Hospital. According to a report by Kaspar Tulmus from the Tartu Police, the boy was discovered alone in the forest. The boy has so far refused or been unable to speak. The boy’s clothing at the time of his discovery has been inspected, and the name ‘Frederich’ was found marked on the inside tag of his t-shirt. An initial evaluation by doctors and psychiatrists at the East Tallinn Central Hospital has been carried out and the child has been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress and shock. He is exhibiting a dissociated, unresponsive state of mind and a suspicion toward members of the police, welfare officials and doctors who have tried speaking with him. I am now handing the case over to the child welfare agency, but will continue to investigate and will make routine checks in the missing person’s database in case something shows up. In the meantime, the child welfare agency will decide where the boy will be housed after he is discharged from hospital. The child has so far refused to allow Mr. Abel to leave his side, and Mr. Abel has agreed to remain with the boy for the time being.
Two days wounded in the forest, thought Kalakia. At that age. It should have killed him. He was an exceptional specimen with a talent for adaptability. That was one of the reasons why Kalakia had spared him. Another was because of his indispensable qualities; he had no next of kin, showed no fear of death, and had so far managed to avoid the lure of power. Not even 250,000 euros of Inselheim’s cash was enough to entice his egocentric desires. There was a deeper motive behind his actions that went beyond greed. He was pure potential ready to be forged. He was also Kraas’ boy. That was, Kalakia hated to admit, the most compelling reason.
Kalakia was not forgetting that Frederich had killed two of The League’s high-ranking men. It was more than enough to warrant a death sentence. The League did not tolerate weeds in its garden. In response to Frederich’s actions, the men had made their outrage known, and demanded he be made an example of. Matthias Vidrik had been especially vocal, even with the good fortune of being promoted to Felipe’s position. While Kalakia was aware of the doctrine, as a leader he could not ignore the bigger picture, which meant he sometimes had to break the rules. His men were unaware that The Council was insisting on a succession plan, and that Kalakia doubted the worthiness of even the front-runners. The Council had secretly drawn up a list of 24 potentials from all over the world and had been pushing to debate the selection process. There were days when Kalakia wished he had never established that panel of eight, cynical old men, and that was precisely why he had done it. Critical voices were necessary to help sharpen his leadership abilities, even if most of the time The Council simply nagged him.
If he had had a son, the succession process would be greatly simplified. A short look into history, however, explained why he had not taken this route. The French Revolution was compelling proof why being a blood heir did not guarantee the strength, wisdom or nerve to rule well. Louis XVI had learnt that lesson the hard way when his neck lay at the mercy of the guillotine. In any case, even if Kalakia had produced an heir, his paternal instincts would cloud his judgement. There was no room for sentiment in his business. In his mind, to lead The League required a particular breed of person, one who was immune from the seduction of power and who had no attachments which could be used against them; a leader with the wisdom and nerve to hold power strictly for the greater good.
Kalakia was sure that no such person existed in The League. He could have been wrong, of course, but instinct told him otherwise. Men such as Vivar and Vidrik were interested in power only to serve themselves. Sadism, a lust for domination, and greed; even The League was not immune from it. Kalakia recalled the early days. As The League had grown in stature, a scramble for power had broken out among the upper ranks. How ironic, Kalakia had thought at the time, and inevitable. It was human nature. He had promoted Vidrik to fill Felipe’s position because the man was a gifted killer. Vidrik was a means to an end, and the end was and always would be the concentration of power under one rightful banner, out of the hands of those unworthy of it. The League was an ideology, and Kalakia knew he was only a symbol of that. Placed in the wrong hands, The League would come burning to the ground. He would never allow that to happen.
The League needed a prince whom it could groom to take over, someone with experience in the field and able to earn the respect of the men; someone who could emulate Kalakia’s rise. Yet even if Frederich
