ã€ŠRays Of The Sunsetã€‹


 Prologue

    Two children played beneath the setting Sun. They were a boy and a girl, both with red hair. The girl¡¯s hair was longer, but the boy¡¯s wasn¡¯t much shorter. Nearby, a few workers were finishing part of the foundations for the castle¡¯s wing.

    The kingdom was slowly regaining its former appearance¡ªthe one described by travelers and merchants in their chronicles. The way it was also depicted by the Pen that knew all things written.

    Yar had never seen it in its entirety. He was born amidst its ruins, but he remembered what a traveler named Lucas Artemius had written: ¡°The castle was the most beautiful of all the five kingdoms of the West¡ªthe most beautiful part of it wasn¡¯t even the flowers that fell like drops upon its walls, but the two towering spires that seemed to touch the Sky.¡±

    He had made the builders memorize everything written about the castle by travelers. He made them repeat every day what he wanted from them. He promised them double what he had initially offered, just to bring back the old splendor, as it was described in the books.

    When the Sun finally lost its battle with the darkness, and the silence outside lulled everyone to sleep, Yar slowly rose. He had been sitting in his chair for too long. He loved doing that, though sometimes he would lose track of time.

    The pain in his thigh always intensified at this hour. He gritted his teeth and endured it. Besides, he only needed his leg to cross the small room in one of the surviving wings of the kingdom. He took two or three larger steps, then leaned against the wall, waiting for the throbbing to stop. With a couple more steps, he reached the bookshelf in his room. He was looking for a particular book and quickly found it. He had read it hundreds of times, but there were things that still didn¡¯t sit well with him. He was missing something.

    The book was green, with large, golden letters spelling out the title¡ªThe Great Battles.

    And the author¡¯s name was written there too: Yar.

    He took the book in his hand and headed back to his favorite desk by the window, from where he could see the entire courtyard¡ªnow empty, but once filled with flowers that, according to tales, even obscured the view from the city. He dragged his chair a bit noisily and sat heavily. His thigh still ached, but once he sat down, the pain faded quickly. He flipped through the book and opened it to the last pages. He had gone too far ahead. He flipped back a bit and found exactly what he was looking for: the Sixth Great Battle.

    And the year was 1292.

    Yar slowly closed his eyes. He felt the scent of the waves, the sand beneath his feet, even heard the cheers of the crowd that watched and awaited the battle to begin. But it wasn¡¯t enough. He tried to linger in that moment a little longer. He didn¡¯t want to use the ring. It had grown too powerful for him. He heard the voice of a child speaking to someone, but he couldn¡¯t yet see anyone.

    He opened his eyes abruptly and found himself back in the room where he had been moments ago. He reached to the corner of the desk and pulled a wooden box toward him. He opened it quickly and took out what he was searching for.

    The ring was beautiful. It wasn¡¯t made of any special material¡ªjust the same alloy used for forging swords. Yet it was more magical than they were, and he could feel its power the moment it touched his palm.

    This time, he not only felt the crowd, the scent, and the heat; this time, he saw the arena before him, where soon five great warriors would emerge to fight to the death. He was no longer in the small, dark room with its cool evening air.

    He was now in the middle of the day, with the sun high above, a gentle breeze blowing, and surrounded by hundreds of people. Amid their shouts and not-so-censored exclamations, they all awaited one thing¡ªthe Great Battle.

    What fully immersed him in that past moment was the voice of a child standing beside him.

    ¡°Why in Shilan, Grandfather? Why here?¡± The boy tugged at the sleeve of the old man standing on his other side, yet he never took his eyes off the arena.

    The old man was also watching intently. In a lifetime, one might witness two or three Great Battles¡ªnot because one was not allowed more, but because the Great Battle took place precisely every thirty years. And the old man seemed like someone who had likely witnessed at least two.

    ¡°Shilan is the capital of our World, child,¡± he replied.

    ¡°The capital?¡± the boy asked his grandfather. ¡°And what lies outside the capital?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t we learned this already?¡± The old man¡¯s tone became slightly more stern. ¡°Volkar, Meihar, Chernoval, Solis, and Ishold.¡±

    The elder had just listed the five main kingdoms, and the five warriors appeared to the cheers of the entire crowd. Yar had witnessed this moment countless times before, yet he still relished it. They stood in the God¡¯s Pit of the Godless Arena. That¡¯s what he liked to joke, though it was the truth. The arena was called the God¡¯s Pit, and they called the arena the Nameless God¡¯s arena. The idea was that here, only weapons ruled; the Gods had no say. But in the end, they would come and claim the dead. And there would be dead today, four to be exact. And the fifth would become king. Yar had watched this battle many times and knew the victor, but he still wanted to follow everything once again. He was seeking answers.

    The five warriors sized each other up, each searching for fear in the eyes of the others. Each of them was standing on the arena for the first time, though it didn¡¯t show. They looked at each other as if they had vast experience in combat. And in a way, they did.

    The boy next to him stared at one of the warriors. He was dressed in brown and wore a wolf¡¯s fur cloak. His black hair blended with his swarthy, rugged face, and he held a massive sword in each hand.

    ¡°Valrak,¡± the boy pointed. ¡°From Volkar.¡±

    Though the old man didn¡¯t reply, the boy was correct. Valrak was the warrior of Volkar. He stared straight ahead, somewhere into the crowd, ignoring the others.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a warrior?¡± the boy asked again.

    ¡°We are a land without battles, child. Shilan has never ruled by force. The people of Shilan are peaceful.¡±

    ¡°Then why do they allow others to fight here?¡±

    ¡°All five kingdoms want to rule over our World. And Shilan is the best place where a ruler can establish himself. When the understanding was signed many years ago, they agreed upon this. And the first battle was held the very next year¡ªright here. Do you remember who won?¡±

    The boy thought for a moment and placed his finger on his lips. He was about four or five years old.

    ¡°Kassian from Volkar.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± The grandfather was pleased.

    Valrak was the first to step forward, and according to the old customs of the battle, he bowed to the audience. Thunderous applause erupted from all sides. The locals feared the wolf people, but they liked them. Valrak surveyed the entire stadium and returned to his place. Yar tried to see more, but he had witnessed this scene many times, and Valrak remained just as imposing.

    ¡°The second is Astrid,¡± the grandfather leaned toward the child. ¡°From Meihar.¡±

    ¡°Meihar?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Meihar is south of Volkar.¡±

    ¡°And they sent a woman?¡±

    ¡°Yes, only women live in Meihar. But do not underestimate them. They can also be fierce and fearless.¡±

    The child stared, mouth agape. Astrid held a long spear and made two sideward leaps to present herself to the people and gain their approval. She was graceful, and her red hair was tied in a ponytail that reached almost to her waist. Yar liked her too. There were so many stories surrounding her that could be mere legends, yet they had elevated her to a near-mythical status, especially in Meihar.

    ¡°And that¡¯s Gideon, right?¡± the child exclaimed, pointing with his finger. He was excited about each warrior.

    ¡°Yes, how do you know?¡±

    ¡°Everyone in Shilan talks about him. He¡¯s the best.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you think?¡± The grandfather responded with a slight chuckle.

    ¡°Yes. Just look at that hammer¡­¡± The boy was lost in admiration.

    ¡°He is certainly the strongest. But that doesn¡¯t make him the best.¡±

    ¡°Gideon is from Chernoval, child. The Black Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Black?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what they call it because the castle is dark. But they are not bad people. There are no bad people anywhere in the five kingdoms.¡±

    ¡°Then where are they?¡±

    ¡°The bad ones have long been gone from our lands, boy.¡±

    ¡°But what if the King of Shilan becomes a bad person?¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t happen. But even if it does, it will only be for thirty years. And at the next Great Battle, another will come.¡±

    Gideon did nothing graceful. Nor could he, even if he had wanted to. Gideon was massive, with long hair reaching his shoulders and a large scar beneath one eye. He wore a large, thick cloak, but even through it, one could tell how massive his body was. Gideon took two steps forward, glanced at the crowd, and then stepped back. Nothing more.

    The grandfather placed his hand on the child¡¯s small foot and guided his attention to the fourth warrior.

    ¡°Ajax.¡±

    ¡°The Serpent,¡± the boy sighed.

    ¡°Yes. The animal of Solis is the serpent. That¡¯s why they like to fight with whips. It looks like a snake.¡±

    Yar also looked in that direction. At first, he couldn¡¯t control the body of the person he was in, but now he could. And he was getting better at it. He sensed the foreign presence within him, and perhaps that person knew something was amiss, but Yar wouldn¡¯t let him break free. Later, he would forget anyway.

    Ajax was tall, slender, with blonde hair. He held a whip in his hands that ended with a serpent¡¯s head. And at his feet slithered a real one.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t look scary.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just a snake for his introduction.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s another?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± The boy clasped his hands to the sides of his face and stared. Ajax didn¡¯t do anything special either, but the snake at his feet hissed at the crowd. Astrid glanced at the snake, but Gideon and Valrak paid no attention to it. Both stood watching ahead, their expressions showing they couldn¡¯t wait for everything to begin.

    ¡°And Kaltus,¡± the boy shouted, his voice lost in the crowd¡¯s applause.

    Kaltus was tall and slender. His hair was black as tar, and he carried a bow on his shoulder.

    ¡°Kaltus doesn¡¯t stand a chance, Grandpa. A bow against Valrak¡¯s swords? Or against Gideon¡¯s hammer? They¡¯ll kill him first.¡±

    ¡°Do not underestimate any of them, child. Each had to surpass a great number of strong and willing fighters from their kingdom to come here. Each one of them has defeated at least a thousand opponents in battles to earn the support of their people.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± the boy said, ¡°but none of them have fought in a battle like this.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re starting,¡± the grandfather said, placing a hand on the child to catch his attention.

    Yar looked at him. He tried not to show it, but he was more excited than the boy. And he had seen this battle many times.

    The arena was round and enormous. It could hold the entire city, and it was so high that the people in the uppermost seats could hardly see what was happening below. That¡¯s why, when the battles began, many of them would descend and crowd among the others until the guards quickly pushed them back up. This often led to fatalities, but that happened rarely.

    ¡°Zoran,¡± the grandfather pointed out to the boy one of the high terraces above the arena. And from there appeared a tall, handsome man.

    Yar recognized him. Zoran at that time was around fifty years old. He also knew how Zoran¡¯s life would end. But now wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on that.

    Zoran stood tall, surveying the crowd as if studying each spectator one by one.

    ¡°Warriors of the kingdom!¡± Zoran shouted, then continued more quietly, ¡°Today is a great day for Shilan and its people. Today is a great day for all the other kingdoms of these lands. A great day for all the cities. We have gathered here with the permission of the Gods, but beyond their gaze, to honor the ancient agreement of our forefathers. The time has come for the Great Battle. Five of your bravest warriors will stand against each other, stepping onto an arena where the blood of far more renowned and powerful warriors has been spilled, as well as those who did not deserve to be there. This battle will determine which kingdom will rule over Shilan and the land we tread upon for the next thirty years. These great warriors hold in their hands not only the fate of their own lives but also the fate of their kings. And rest assured, they will give nothing less than their all. The Nameless God is hungry, and today we will satisfy him with four souls. Four souls of great warriors and, above all, men trained and ready to fight in his honor. As we stand on the threshold of the greatest moment for the kingdom, let me thank each one of them. Let me thank them for their sacrifice, which forges the unbreakable bond and understanding between our cities. Four of you will go into eternity, where you will feast with the God, and one will remain to receive the greatest honors that mortals can offer. And his king will take the highest place at the highest point on Earth¡ªShilan. So it has been, and so it shall be. Go forth, valiant warriors, and carve your names upon the wall of history. Long live Shilan and the Free Kingdoms!¡±

    Yar loved hearing the speech every time, even though he already knew it by heart. He listened with interest as the crowd reacted to Zoran''s words, their applause and shouts filling the arena¡ªeven those seated in the furthest rows joined in.

    "Are those the other kings, Grandpa?" the boy asked, pointing with his finger toward five men seated in the front row.

    "Yes. The first is Oberon."

    "From Volkar?"

    "Yes. Valrak is his warrior."

    "And the second one?"

    "The ruler of Chernoval and Zoran''s brother. He governs while Zoran is here, on the Shilan throne. His sons are still too young to take the kingdom. The next two are Lyra and Soren, from Meihar and Solis, respectively. Their warriors are Astrid and Ajax."

    "So Meihar has not only a woman warrior but a woman ruler too?"

    "Yes, my boy. Unlike the other lands, Meihar''s population is predominantly female. There, it is more common to see men doing tasks considered women¡¯s work, while the women wield swords and practice combat on the sands."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "Have they always sent women as warriors?"

    "Always. Even their first warrior was the creator of the Pact¡ªFlorentina."

    "What is he doing?" the boy suddenly shouted, pointing toward King Zoran.

    The grandfather turned toward the arena.

    "It''s an old tradition that marks the start of every great battle," he told the boy. "Watch closely. If you wish to become strong and fearless like them, watch and don¡¯t avert your eyes. Someone might see if you¡¯re afraid."

    The boy took these words very seriously, trying not even to blink. The king had extended his left arm forward, holding a dagger in his right hand. The blade was so polished it was nearly white, reflecting like a mirror. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, Zoran first pierced the crook of his arm and then, with a gentle pressure, ran the knife across his palm. The boy clutched his own hand as if he had been cut and recoiled slightly, but he kept watching. Zoran¡¯s blood began to drip onto the sand.

    "But why?" the boy asked his grandfather.

    "An old tradition. It was once believed that this would awaken the interest of the Nameless God, that he would smell the royal blood and come to watch."

    The king continued to hold his hand above the arena and spoke again:

    "In the name of the Gods and in the name of the Nameless God, protector of us all¡­ And for the honor of Shilan!"

    The final words seemed to echo throughout the arena, signaling the warriors. Valrak, Gideon, Astrid, Kaltus, and Ajax were already prepared, and the old man could see that none of them had heard a word of the king¡¯s speech. They just wanted to fight. The tension was palpable among the crowd and the rulers of each city. Yet the warriors had trained their entire lives for this moment. None of them wished to succumb to their emotions.

    Zoran¡¯s blood continued to drip. All five warriors watched it, and so did the crowd. The boy didn¡¯t ask his grandfather any more questions, and for Yar, this was the most fascinating part. The battle would begin as soon as the blood stopped dripping. And just when everyone held their breath, the blood ceased.

    Kaltus removed the bow from his shoulder, bent his knees, and finally sized up the other warriors. Acting on his first instinct, he leaped into the air, separating himself from the others. His jump was so high it stunned the audience. While everyone was mesmerized by him in the air, they failed to notice that Astrid from Meihar had already positioned herself beneath him. No one, except Yar. But Yar was watching that exact spot. He knew what was about to happen. He had witnessed this many times and always saw something new. And now he saw that the falcon, the bird of Meihar, seemed to soar above everyone¡¯s heads as Kaltus landed on Astrid¡¯s spear.

    Some called it the fastest kill in the arena¡¯s history, and if Yar recalled correctly, that was indeed the case. No one had ever died as quickly as Kaltus.

    "Kaltus!" The boy shouted, pointing and looking at the old man.

    "Yes, child. Kaltus is now with the Nameless God," the old man replied, glancing up at the terrace above the arena. Zoran was smiling, while one of the three kings seated in the front row rose without a word and left. It was Ekill, the King of Ishold. Once again, his kingdom would not be victorious.

    Four warriors remained in the arena. And also around it.

    Kaltus¡¯s body still lay where Astrid had struck him down, and her swift attack served as a warning to the others. Each warrior took slow steps in different directions, carefully watching their opponents to the left and right. They were all waiting for the others to make the first move. Astrid seemed the most satisfied. She had successfully demonstrated that they would have to contend with her. And she was certainly the primary target for the others. Because she was a woman.

    The battle had been won four times by a warrior from Chernoval and twice by one from Volkar. Neither Solis, Ishold, nor Meihar had ever won, though there had been times when they came very close, only to fall short. Yar knew not only the victor of each battle by heart but also who had killed whom. A woman killing the warrior of Ishold had now happened for the third time.

    The whip in Ajax¡¯s hand twitched as if it moved on its own. He muttered something under his breath toward Valrak, who responded just as angrily. Astrid continued to circle them, holding the bloodstained spear in her hands. She was more frightened than confident.

    The warriors had studied each other well, and it was difficult to surprise one another.

    Several moments passed in which no one made a move. Moments that Astrid broke once again. This time, her target wasn¡¯t the small, bow-wielding Kaltus, who was already dead. Her target was Gideon.

    After so many times witnessing this battle, Yar knew why she was doing it. Gideon was undoubtedly the strongest, but his muscles hampered his agility, and he wasn¡¯t known for his speed or sharp mind. A single accurate strike from Gideon could kill Astrid on the spot, and she knew it. That¡¯s why she wanted to be fast. Otherwise, she would end up like Kaltus.

    Valrak and Astrid remained back, exchanging words but not yet attacking each other. Astrid, however, lunged toward Gideon with her spear aimed at him. But neither did he strike her, though he was close, nor did she manage to land a blow. Astrid landed on her feet far from him. Gideon merely snorted like a mare and took two steps forward, not in a threatening manner, but more to show her who was in charge and who should win.

    On the other side of the arena, Ajax was still whipping his weapon around as if it were stronger than Valrak¡¯s swords. Valrak was the first to use the three-sword technique he had mastered over the last five years. Yar had learned about this recently from another merchant¡¯s travelogue, in which the writer had even spent a night with the guards of Volkar, and there Valkar himself had arrived, drenched in blood, fresh from one of his training sessions.

    "Damn it," the old man beside Yar muttered. "The dark blue sword on his back."

    It was as if he knew what Yar was thinking, though he was more likely speaking to the boy. And the boy was staring wide-eyed at the sword. The old man was right; one of the ten swords was in Valrak¡¯s possession, or rather, strapped to his back. The two swords in his hands were ordinary, but the powerful one was the dark blue sword protruding behind his head. Every kingdom, every great warrior or king, had their sword. But some were missing, and no one had seen them for a long time. However, that wasn¡¯t the issue now.

    Valrak advanced with his two swords, swinging them in front of Ajax¡¯s frightened face. Once again, Yar realized that Ajax didn¡¯t resemble a warrior. He hadn¡¯t found in the books how Ajax had been chosen to fight. He was more comical than threatening. And with a whip in hand, he incited even more laughter among the people.

    "Run, Ajax!" the boy shouted. A few people around him laughed.

    "Do you like Ajax?" the old man asked him.

    "Yes. I want him to win."

    "That will be hard, boy. Look at the others. Even Astrid is more dangerous."

    The boy didn¡¯t respond, clenching his fists and pounding them on his knees.

    Meanwhile, Astrid attacked Gideon once more. But this time, she didn¡¯t rely on jumps and quick kills. She simply ran around the giant, bombarding him with strikes that he successfully parried. Finally, Gideon struck back. One of his hammers hit Astrid¡¯s spear, breaking a large portion of it. The crowd erupted, and Lyra, the queen of Meihar, gasped in surprise. But Astrid was fine.

    Valrak was still pursuing Ajax with his two swords, but the Solis warrior skillfully evaded his strikes. The whip was more of a hindrance than a help. In fact, during one of Valrak¡¯s strikes, Ajax lifted the whip high, wrapped it around part of the terrace where Zoran was watching, and used it to escape from Valrak. The Volkar warrior cursed so loudly that the boy next to Yar laughed.

    The crowd shifted their gaze between the two pairs of combatants. Meanwhile, Gideon had cornered Astrid, and she was barely holding off his onslaught with the remaining piece of her spear. Gideon was probably three times her weight. But Astrid managed to slip out of his grasp, risking the spear that Gideon was leaning on. She ducked low and escaped his grip, kicking the giant in the ankle as she did. He shouted, though it seemed more out of anger than pain. He turned to her with an even fiercer expression, gripping one of his hammers in hand. And suddenly, the hammer flew toward her. She hadn¡¯t expected it. Neither had the crowd. The speed of the hammer was so great that Astrid had no time to dodge, and it struck her square in the face, breaking the arm she raised to protect herself.

    A hush fell over the arena, followed by new cheers. Lyra¡¯s voice could be heard pleading for Gideon to spare her warrior¡¯s life, begging just to let her live. She surrendered.

    But those weren¡¯t the rules, and Lyra knew it. Gideon had another hammer, and he was moving toward the fallen Astrid. Everyone stood up. Yar did too. The child beside him had climbed onto the chair next to him.

    Gideon stood over Astrid, his legs straddling her, and he was saying something. Blood had covered her entire face, and even if she survived, she would never regain her former beauty. Gideon gripped the handle of the hammer with both hands, the head of the hammer aimed at Astrid¡¯s skull. Someone shouted for him to stop, but he wasn¡¯t going to listen, of course. And no one, except Yar, knew what would happen next.

    "Don¡¯t look," Yar made the man whose body he inhabited say to the boy next to him. The boy just looked at him. The old man on the other side didn¡¯t even notice them.

    "Why?"

    "You¡¯re still too young."

    The boy didn¡¯t hear him and kept watching. Yar didn¡¯t expect him to listen. And the scene before them was horrific. Gideon didn¡¯t finish off Astrid immediately. First, he shattered the shoulder of her arm. The sound of bones breaking and the sight of her arm dangling by just a shred of skin echoed everywhere. With a laugh, he did the same to her other arm. Astrid screamed at the first blow. By the second, she had already passed out from the pain.

    Gideon roared. The boy beside Yar was crying, curled up against his grandfather. Astrid wasn¡¯t dead, but she had no chance now. Even the best healers couldn¡¯t save her. And they wouldn¡¯t have to. She would die from her wounds or at the sword of one of the contenders.

    Gideon left Astrid lying there and moved toward Ajax and Valrak. The battle there wasn¡¯t particularly contested either. Ajax¡¯s only advantage was his speed, which allowed him to escape from Valrak. But that was all. Gideon was about to cut off his escape. He seemed to be watching him.

    Over the years, battles between the warriors of Volkar and Chernoval had become legendary. The two kingdoms always seemed to produce the strongest and most worthy people for this arena. That¡¯s why they always won. Now the crowd expected the same. They expected everyone to die before them and to see a real fight. No one wanted to watch Ajax, running around like a rabbit, avoiding both of them, even though he seemed to be the children¡¯s favorite.

    "Valrak!" Gideon shouted, coming to a halt. Valrak turned to him. "Leave that little boy and face me."

    Valrak didn¡¯t wait for a second invitation. He left Ajax behind. And Ajax was smiling, pleased. Valrak lumbered toward Gideon. He held both his swords and glanced behind Gideon, where the half-dead Astrid lay.

    "Why doesn¡¯t Ajax attack them from behind, Grandpa?"

    The boy¡¯s question was clever. But Yar knew the answer. So did the boy¡¯s grandfather:

    "Even if he did, he would kill one of them. Then the other would quickly kill him. It¡¯s better for him to let them kill each other."

    He had barely finished speaking when the clash of steel rang out once again in the arena, silencing everyone. Gideon swung his two hammers, while Valrak blocked with his two swords. Ajax had indeed retreated to the side, sitting in the sand, smiling and crossing his legs to show that he was better than them, resting while they fought. No one in the stands liked this, but the people were too busy watching the exchanges between Valrak and Gideon. This was what everyone had been waiting for. They had waited thirty years, most of all, for this. And as always, these two delivered the most excitement.

    Gideon seemed slightly better. His hammers were heavy, bending Valrak¡¯s swords, though they were still sharp enough to kill a man. Gideon knew this. On the other hand, Valrak wasn¡¯t as large as Gideon, but he didn¡¯t retreat; in fact, he pressed forward, trying to hold his ground, no matter how difficult it was. Ajax remained motionless behind them, smiling and waiting. But he saw something else. He saw something that everyone in the crowd saw. Only the two locked in combat didn¡¯t notice.

    "Look, Grandpa." The boy pointed.

    Yar smiled. He knew and had seen it hundreds of times. And yet, it was indescribable. Astrid had risen and was walking toward them. The crowd cheered her on, shouting. Her face was covered in blood, redder than her hair. Her shattered shoulders prevented her from lifting her arms high, so she kept them hanging limp at her sides. But her broken shoulders didn¡¯t stop her from gripping the broken spear in her hand and moving forward. She stepped slowly, deliberately, toward the two giants, who no one was watching anymore. And they continued exchanging blows. Gideon had even managed to wound Valrak¡¯s arm, though not severely enough to stop him from fighting.

    "He''ll kill him from behind."

    "Unlikely, my boy. She can¡¯t even lift her arm."

    Yar merely smiled, trying to capture the expressions of those around him. Everyone¡¯s eyes were on Astrid¡¯s small, staggering steps and her blood-soaked face. The blood had already stained her clothes. She knew she was already dead, but it seemed there was one last thing she needed to do before she truly died.

    However, Valrak saw her. He saw the spear in her hand. Yar hadn¡¯t noticed this the first few times he had watched the battle. He only saw it the last time, and now he was sure. Valrak did exactly what was expected. He paused his attack, waiting for Gideon to move closer. When the giant warrior from Chernoval drew near, Valrak lifted his foot and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending the giant stumbling backward. Gideon laughed at Valrak¡¯s clumsy attempt to push him away. But then he noticed the spear protruding from his own belly. The hammers fell from his hands, and the crowd fell silent once more. That¡¯s when he seemed to feel the pain, and blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

    "Bitch!" His voice rang out, amusing many in the crowd. Yar looked up at Zoran. The former King of Chernoval watched without expression. He knew he would return to Chernoval and lose his throne. As much as Yar knew of him from the writings, Zoran didn¡¯t seem to care. But a loss was still a loss, and no one liked that.

    Gideon died relatively quickly for such a large man. Astrid dropped her spear and collapsed to the ground again. That was the last thing she could manage.

    But she was no longer of interest to the people. Something else was happening nearby. Valrak shouted, and Ajax had already drawn his whip. A wound appeared on Valrak¡¯s ankle.

    It was from Ajax.

    "Is that all?" His shout echoed. "Is this how you plan to win?"

    Ajax was smiling.

    "It looks like Valrak will win, Grandpa," the boy said, echoing the thoughts of everyone around him. Yar knew the answer but said nothing.

    "If it were that easy, there wouldn¡¯t be a battle, my boy. Just watch. The winner might end up on the Shilan throne."

    "Or the winner¡¯s king."

    "There have been times when the champion himself took the throne."

    The grandfather was right. Legends still lingered about the reign of Velibor, later called the Dark One.

    Valrak limped toward Ajax, dragging his injured leg and drawing the third sword. He held two swords in one hand and the third in the other.

    Ajax laughed, stepping back. The whip in his hand twitched. Valrak lumbered toward him, looking like a man with nothing to lose. But Ajax had something to lose. He wanted everything.

    Valrak drew closer. Ajax halted his retreat. And when everyone expected Valrak to strike, Ajax attacked instead. He threw his whip forward, the snake¡¯s head aimed at Valrak. But the move was too predictable. Valrak slashed through the whip with a single swing. Ajax continued smiling. It had bought him time. Yar thought it had bought time for Valrak too, though even that wouldn¡¯t help him.

    The whip was gone. Two warriors were dead, and Astrid couldn¡¯t rise a second time. She lay on the ground, writhing in pain. Valrak glanced back several times to make sure she wasn¡¯t behind him. When he looked at Ajax again, the man was alone. A mountain of muscle with a sword in each hand was advancing on him.

    When Valrak was right next to him, Ajax calmly sat down on the ground.

    "Well, you cur. Come on."

    Valrak didn¡¯t hesitate. He raised his sword high. Ajax laughed.

    "Swing and finish me off. Finish the kingdom, too."

    "Stop talking and accept your death."

    "You too."

    They spoke quietly, but Yar knew what they were saying. Sometimes he returned here in the body of one of the two. The conversation was always the same.

    Valrak was confused, a look of bewilderment crossing his face at Ajax¡¯s calm demeanor.

    "You destroyed my whip, but it did its job," Ajax said, glancing at Valrak¡¯s leg. The warrior from the wolf city did the same. There was a small wound on his ankle, bleeding but nothing that should have worried him.

    "A desperate move," Valrak said in his deep voice. "Is that the best you can do?"

    "I don¡¯t think so, wolf. You¡¯ve been poisoned. The poison was in the head of the whip."

    Valrak leaned down, grabbed Ajax with one hand, and lifted him off the ground. Then he slammed him back down. He picked up his sword again and aimed it at Ajax.

    "Go on, kill me, and Shilan will be left without a ruler."

    "I will be the ruler."

    "You¡¯ll be dead by nightfall. Nothing can save you."

    "There are healers in Volkar and Shilan."

    "You have no chance, wolf. There is no antidote. Kill me. We¡¯ll both die. You know what will happen in Shilan, don¡¯t you?"

    Here, Yar was unsure. He didn¡¯t know what would happen. If Ajax was right, the kingdom would be left without a ruler. But they had never reached this situation before. The Pact didn¡¯t mention anything about such a scenario.

    "What¡¯s wrong, wolf? Are you going to kill me?" Ajax taunted him again.

    Valrak didn¡¯t hear Ajax. He looked toward King Oberon. His king was on his feet, waiting to see his warrior victorious. He wasn¡¯t thinking about the throne. He was thinking about victory. His hands were ready to raise triumphantly to the sky. As soon as the moon rose, everyone at the Wolf¡¯s Gate would celebrate, and he would sit on the throne in Shilan.

    Valrak turned his gaze back to Ajax. He gripped the hilt of his sword with one hand and placed the other above it. A slight pressure, and Ajax would be dead. He held his life in his hands.

    And then he let go.

    Ajax laughed from the ground. Valrak swayed and fell too.

    "You said by nightfall."

    "Well, I might have lied. It could be a bit quicker." Ajax had risen, taken Valrak¡¯s sword, and was walking toward him. Yar had seen this dozens of times, and it was still thrilling. Ajax simply stood over Valrak, holding the dark blue sword, the sword of Volkar, smiling and saying nothing. Valrak¡¯s eyes were clouded. Yar wasn¡¯t sure if he could even see him. Even the little boy next to Yar held his breath. He shouted something, but it was too late. Valrak was killed with his own sword.

    Ajax raised his arms in victory, but almost no one cheered. Then he threw the sword onto Valrak¡¯s body, returned to where his whip had been, or at least what was left of it, and wrapped it around his hand. His direction was clear. Astrid.

    The red-haired girl who had killed two of the contenders was still alive. She was on her knees, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Her shoulders were crushed, the blood had stopped flowing, but it was everywhere, around and on her.

    Ajax didn¡¯t even stop. He spun the whip, threw it forward, and it wrapped around Astrid¡¯s neck. All that was left was to pull. When he did, the King of Solis, Soren, was already on his feet. But no one applauded.

    And Ajax looked into the crowd. He looked directly at Yar, as if thanking him. As if Yar had helped him.

    Yar¡¯s eyes snapped open.

    He was back in his room. The dark room, on the dark night, where everything had begun.

    Something flew past the open window. It was a bird. Likely a falcon. Falcons loved flying here. A light breeze entered through the window, flipping the pages of the book before him. The next chapter was to be about the Seventh Great Battle. But it hadn¡¯t been written yet. And to write it, he would have to go back again.

    Back to the past, from the perspective of the present, and into the future from the perspective of the last battle. Specifically, twenty-eight years after it, two years before the next one, and twelve years before he was born.

 Severin

    SEVERIN

    ¡°Father?¡±

    Severin gazed into the empty hall, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a figure. It was his father. He stood tall, as handsome as ever, with that familiar stern expression. Any moment now, he would scold him once more. He often did, even though Severin had long since crossed into his forties, with four children of his own, and was soon to marry off his eldest son. His father had always found something to reprimand him for, even on the night he died, poisoned by some ill-fated meal. But that was many years ago. Why was he seeing him now?

    The apparition of Oberon the Second, son of Oberon, was stern and cold, like a winter¡¯s wind. Severin felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. He was alone in the throne room, uncertain of what to say to the ghost of his father.

    Outside, a wolf howled. Then a second. They were the wolves of the royal court. When a third joined the chorus, his father¡¯s image faded.

    Severin leaned back against the plush blankets draped over his throne, where the heads of two recently deceased wolves protruded from the armrests, his hands resting upon them.

    When subjects from the kingdom or guests from afar came to visit, Severin would cast aside the blankets and, hiding his discomfort, would sit upon the throne like a true king. Just as he believed himself to be. But now, with no one to expect, he had spread the blankets and settled in as comfortably as one could.

    Now, the affairs of men and subjects troubled him little. Alone, as evening approached, he sat upon the bone throne, holding in his hand a strange object he had taken to calling the Bone, though he wasn¡¯t sure it truly was one. The object was long, hollow, and slightly curved, with the form and structure of a bone. When he grasped it in one hand and lifted it, it was no longer than his arm. By the light of the candle beside him, he could see its hollow interior. Over the days he had possessed it, he had tried several times to break it, but each time the bone began to crack, his heart pounded faster and more fiercely, like a horse¡¯s gallop, and he would relent, placing it beside him once more. Until the object seemed to call out to him again.

    And so, he took it up once more, feeling that same surge of emotion. It was not joy, nor sorrow. Just a wave that washed over him from within. This time, the sound of the great, heavy doors of the throne room creaking open interrupted him. The two guards standing beside them stepped back, allowing a small, frail man, no older than sixty, to enter. The man approached with quick, purposeful strides. Severin wondered if he, too, was a vision, but no. He recognized this man. He was dark-haired, with a pendant hanging from his neck¡ªa pendant that Severin himself had gifted him for his services to both his father and himself. The pendant was adorned with wolf claws, a rare gift, and only two men possessed one. One of them was Yorick.

    The man came as close to his king as he dared, knelt briefly, and then rose just as swiftly.

    ¡°You summoned me, King Severin.¡±

    Severin did not recall calling for him. Lately, he had been forgetting things. This, too, he blamed on the Bone. He was certain of it. The barbarian object was seeping into his mind more and more. Yet, in a strange way, it also brought him peace.

    ¡°Sit, Yorick,¡± Severin gestured to one of the chairs at the table in the center of the hall. He took the Bone in his hands, rose heavily from his throne, and joined him. He felt a sense of relief in his back. At times, he truly hated that throne. As he sat, he placed the Bone before Yorick and looked him in the eye. ¡°What do you make of this, Yorick?¡±

    ¡°A bone, King Severin.¡±

    ¡°I can see that. But why was it so important to the barbarians?¡±

    ¡°The barbarians? I do not know.¡± Yorick lowered his gaze to the Bone. He grasped it with both hands, turning it over, inspecting it from every angle. He even attempted to snap off the tip, but failed. Then, he handed it back to Severin.

    ¡°It looks like an animal bone to me. Nothing more. If you ask me, you¡¯re wasting your time.¡±

    ¡°Listen, Yorick. The barbarians may be ugly and vile, dressed in rags that even the poorest in my kingdom would not wear, but they are not fools. They are fierce fighters, and lately, they have been causing me considerable trouble. But they are poor. The only things that drive them are their hunger and their lust for gold. And this Bone¡­ this Bone was placed upon a cushion, carried by two beautiful barbarian women. Well, the women died later, but at least ten warriors guarded them. They guarded the women, but in truth, they guarded the Bone. I believe I took something very important from them.¡±

    ¡°A remarkable victory, my lord. We lost fewer men than at the Eagle Bridge a few years ago. We have two gravely wounded who may not survive much longer. And that¡¯s all. While the barbarians¡­¡±

    ¡°Two is nothing in the face of this victory. But there is one thing I do not understand. Why was this Bone so important to them? It must be sacred to them.¡±

    Yorick took the Bone in his hands again, turning it over. He examined it closely, bringing it near his small eyes, then holding it away, before giving his final judgment.

    ¡°If you ask me, my king, it¡¯s merely a barbarian trinket they worship. If I may be so bold, it¡¯s akin to the way your Lilith is devoted to her books, or Borin¡¯s love for ships and the sea. They, too, would die for these whims. This Bone is yet another oddity the barbarians use for inspiration. You know they do not honor the common gods. They worship things like this.¡± Yorick set the Bone on the table and pointed to it dismissively.

    The wound from the battle, which still festered on Severin¡¯s arm, began to throb. He placed his other hand over the wound, and his palm turned red from the blood. It had begun to bleed again. Yorick noticed.

    ¡°Shall I summon the healer, Martin?¡±

    ¡°No, Yorick. There is nothing more he can do. It¡¯s slow to heal, that¡¯s all. I¡¯ll endure the pain. This is nothing compared to what I inflicted on the barbarians. Ah, if only you had seen how they died upon the tip of my sword.¡± Severin raised his chin slightly, staring into the distance. He still reveled in the battle as if it were happening before him. He loved killing barbarians. Even now, at forty-one, he still had the skill. He still knew how to fight. He had been trained by the best in the kingdom. He had become better than all of them. He hoped Bromir would become so as well.

    Severin rolled up his bloody sleeve. The wound looked clean, but with each pulse he felt, a fresh trickle of blood would seep out, staining the table beneath him.

    ¡°Perhaps you should cauterize it, my lord. It looks clean, but it just needs to close, that¡¯s all,¡± Yorick suggested.

    ¡°Martin told me the wound needs to breathe so his herbs and salves can work. Are you better than him, Yorick?¡± Severin looked at him, though he didn¡¯t expect an answer. ¡°I have no reason not to trust him. There isn¡¯t a better healer in our lands.¡±

    ¡°I know of no other, my lord.¡± Yorick lowered his head, though he still answered.

    Severin pulled down his sleeve and took the Bone in his hands once more. He looked Yorick in the eye for a moment. What he was about to do might seem foolish. Yorick stared back impassively. Severin rolled up his sleeve and dipped the Bone into the blood.

    Nothing happened. He glanced at Yorick out of the corner of his eye. The advisor was trying not to look.

    ¡°Forgive me, my lord, but you¡¯re beginning to act like the barbarians. What was that?¡± The old advisor adjusted his glasses and leaned back slightly.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Severin frowned and let the Bone drop onto the table. His sleeve grew heavier and heavier, soaked with blood. The stain was now spreading across the wooden table. The Bone lay there, still as useless as ever. He saw nothing in it. But there had to be a reason the barbarians had guarded it so fiercely. He would find out sooner or later. Until then, he would keep it safe. And he knew the barbarians had more like it. He would be glad to take those as well. If only the wound would heal.

    ¡°Enough. I¡¯ll summon Martin,¡± Yorick said, rising. The blood had frightened him.

    ¡°Wait, Yorick. I don¡¯t need that herbalist now. It¡¯s just a little blood. Actually, if you see Martin, tell him to find a book related to bones. I want to know what this is. Or if he knows, he should tell me.¡±

    ¡°You know, my lord,¡± Yorick said, speaking to him while looking at the Bone, its tip now wrapped in Severin¡¯s blood, ¡°our library isn¡¯t very rich, and our healers are more knowledgeable about herbs than about such items. If I pass it on to them, they might be able to tell you what kind of animal it came from. Perhaps they could even tell you if it¡¯s human, but books like that¡­ Perhaps in Shilan¡­¡±

    ¡°Shilan?¡± Severin¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°In Shilan, everything can be found. The greatest thinkers and scholars are there. They could give you more answers. We don¡¯t have that many books, unfortunately. Or rather, to your daughter Lilith¡¯s dismay, she¡¯s read them all. Some even twice.¡±

    ¡°But what if it¡¯s just a wolf¡¯s bone? I don¡¯t want to make a fool of myself before King Soren. He¡¯ll welcome me with open arms, but if it¡¯s just the bone of some wild beast that the barbarians worshipped... I¡¯ll be the laughingstock. I don¡¯t want to be made a fool of, Yorick.¡± Severin leaned in toward him.

    ¡°You could ask King Soren himself when he comes for your son¡¯s wedding, but even he might not know. However, the people around him, especially the healers, would be aware. If they don¡¯t know, you might have to go to the barbarians yourself. But that would be too much for just a mere bone.¡±

    ¡°Soren got lucky twenty-eight years ago. Or rather, it was that Ajax. His warrior.¡± Severin set the Bone aside. ¡°I remember the last battle as if it were yesterday. But no, Yorick. I have no intention of going to Shilan. Actually, I will go. But it will be when I sit upon the throne. The throne in the capital. Then I will have the library and the entire world at my disposal. For now, let Soren come. We¡¯ll talk of battles and women. We¡¯ll drink southern wine and feast on meat. As for other matters, I¡¯ll take care of them myself. When Tristan sends me up there,¡± Severin pointed upward, referring to the highest of all thrones, the one in the capital.

    ¡°But that is still two years away, my lord.¡±

    Severin gave him a look that could terrify, and perhaps it did. Then he continued:

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait. I was thirteen at the last battle. I expected my father to live to see the one that¡¯s coming. He had high hopes, too, but he didn¡¯t live to see it. And now we¡¯ll win this one for him. I¡¯m no longer a boy, Yorick.¡±

    ¡°Valrak nearly won the battle, my king,¡± Yorick interjected. ¡°He was a great warrior.¡±

    ¡°A great¡­ yet he lost. Great warriors do not lose. It¡¯s just as well my father didn¡¯t see his defeat.¡±

    ¡°Again, because of the barbarians, sire.¡±

    ¡°That we are not sure of. He was poisoned, but we are not certain it was the barbarians.¡± Severin gripped the Bone once more. ¡°He would be proud now, seeing their rout. But after Valrak¡¯s defeat, he withdrew and hid. He didn¡¯t like to lose. And we haven¡¯t had our own lord in how long? Eighty years?¡± Severin didn¡¯t give Yorick a chance to answer and continued. ¡°Speaking of which, how is Tristan?¡±

    Yorick straightened in his chair, his eyes widening.

    ¡°Honestly, King Severin, without trying to raise your hopes, but Tristan is better than Volkar.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say that you¡¯ve never seen a greater warrior than Volkar?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. But for his time. Now, as I watch Tristan¡­¡±

    ¡°I believe you, Yorick. I believe you.¡± Severin waved his hand. ¡°But what do you know of battles?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, my lord. I¡¯ve never held a sword. I¡¯m better at writing and speaking.¡±

    ¡°The latter I know. So it¡¯s better I trust Tiberius on these matters. By the way, where is he?¡±

    ¡°Training the new warriors, my lord. Several garrisons of fourteen-year-olds last saw their mothers today, sire, and joined the training grounds.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good. Do they have food and water?¡±

    ¡°They do. Twenty of the guards have been sent on patrol in the kingdom, and the new ones will take their places. When they return, we¡¯ll free up one of the stables, and with the help of the new recruits, we¡¯ll turn it into a sleeping quarters. I heard this from Tiberius and gave him permission without consulting you. It seemed like a good idea.¡±

    ¡°You did well. Let them learn that nothing comes easily. I want to meet with Tiberius by day¡¯s end. Be sure to inform him.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my lord.¡±

    ¡°And the queen? Where is my Mirena?¡±

    ¡°I last saw her in the garden, my lord. Shall I call for her?¡±

    ¡°Who is she with?¡±

    ¡°With your daughters, sire. At least, that¡¯s what I saw.¡±

    ¡°All of them? Even Sophia?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see Sophia.¡±

    Severin laughed. Even if he had seen Sophia standing by her mother, he wouldn¡¯t have believed it.

    ¡°And Lilith?¡±

    ¡°I believe Lilith was there too, sire, speaking with¡­ Ariella.¡± Yorick had bowed his head. Severin pretended not to have heard and waited for him to continue. ¡°Earlier today, some merchants passed through the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Where were they from?¡± Severin quickly asked.

    ¡°From the settlements near the Eagle Bridge. The princess asked to withdraw from the treasury to purchase some things from them.¡±

    ¡°Books? Don¡¯t make me pull the words from you one by one, Yorick. Speak.¡±

    ¡°Books, sire. As usual. She¡¯s read everything in our library. And, honestly, it no longer interests her, with all the books on herbs and beasts. She wanted something more exciting. Her passion for books is impressive. She reminds me of myself when I was young. But I don¡¯t have much faith in merchants, so we chose carefully.¡±

    ¡°Did you buy them for her, in the end?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. I gave two golden wolves.¡±

    ¡°Two whole wolves? You didn¡¯t bargain?¡±

    ¡°We tried, but that was the lowest price.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. That¡¯s not so bad. Still, I¡¯d prefer she learn how to be a lady rather than lose herself in books. Those who read too much will serve her in time. She doesn¡¯t need to know all this. And Borin?¡±

    ¡°His ship is nearly finished, my lord. I did exactly as you said. I found the best carpenter and made sure they met. They liked each other, and now the ship is almost ready. Last I heard, Borin is already assembling a crew. All over the port, people are talking about him and his ship. Honestly, not all the talk is good.¡±

    ¡°I care little for talk. And what kind of crew is this? I don¡¯t like this business of his travels, and he knows it, but he¡¯ll do anything to defy me. Has he gathered decent men?¡±

    ¡°You should see him when he speaks of his ship, sire. His eyes light up, and he seems to take flight. He looks just like you when you take up your sword.¡±

    ¡°And yet these ships are folly. He has everything here. Why does he need to travel?¡±

    ¡°I fear you already know the answer, sire. Your sister, Liora. Even as a child, he listened to her tales of the sea. She told him of the islands beyond, of the tribes there¡­¡±

    ¡°And she died at sea.¡± Severin slammed his hand on the table. ¡°Most of her stories were fabrications. And after one of her voyages, she didn¡¯t return.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone meets their end there, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I want you to find a good crew for my son, Yorick. Again, without him knowing. Find the best and sneak them into his crew somehow. Take as much as you need from the treasury.¡±

    ¡°That last part won¡¯t be too difficult, sire. As far as I know, Borin is having a bit of trouble with money. But he has already found a crew.¡±

    ¡°He has? Investigate them.¡± Severin took the Bone in his hands again, turning it over a few times. This time, he wasn¡¯t thinking about it. He was thinking of Borin. He was thinking of the great battle that would come in just two years. He was thinking of Tristan and his son, Bromir. And Yorick stood still and silent beside him.

    ¡°And Bromir? He¡¯s the only one I haven¡¯t heard about, Yorick.¡±

    ¡°If you look out the window, you might see him. He¡¯s enjoying his time with Miss Jarr. They talk all day. She¡¯s smitten with him, and it¡¯s clear he likes her too.¡±

    ¡°The lovely Loren.¡± Severin tried to peer out the window from his seated position, but couldn¡¯t. ¡°She reminds me so much of my wife. Perhaps that¡¯s why Bromir is drawn to her.¡±

    ¡°There is a resemblance, sire. Your Mirena was very beautiful in her youth. In fact, she still is.¡± Yorick corrected himself almost immediately and hurried to say something else. ¡°The letters for their wedding are also ready. I¡¯m just waiting for your command, sire. We¡¯ll start sending them out whenever you say. We¡¯ll invite the kings of all five kingdoms, and the sixth guest will be the king of all kings¡ªSoren.¡±

    ¡°Not before Loren¡¯s family arrives, Yorick. They¡¯re already on their way. So have a little more patience. I must meet with Lord Jarr and discuss the wedding.¡±

    ¡°That sounds wise, sire. And Bromir, will he¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m still alive, Yorick.¡± Severin had anticipated Yorick¡¯s question. ¡°Bromir is my first heir and will take this uncomfortable throne eventually. Until then, he can enjoy all the benefits of the kingdom. But he will also begin to bear responsibility. On that note¡­ Summon Bromir and Tiberius. I want them both here. It¡¯s time my son learned how to rule a kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Is it something about the wedding, sire?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out when they arrive. I want you here as well.¡±

    Yorick nodded and, with permission, rose and left the throne room. The knights at the doors sent him off the same way they had received him. Severin took the Bone and reluctantly sat back on the throne of bones. He had to be there, at least during the daylight hours, when anyone could come in.

    He turned the Bone in his hands, squeezing it a little tighter, and it seemed he heard his father¡¯s voice. He looked around, but his father was not there. He was certain it was his father. He even heard his laughter. He set the Bone beside him and closed his eyes softly.

    ¡°If you¡¯re here, Father, know that you were right.¡±

 Bromir

    <hr>

    One of the women swayed half-naked before him in a sort of dance, while the other stood off to the side of the bed, completely nude, her hands shyly tucked between her thighs. Bromir, propped up on his elbows, also half-naked, was eating grape after grape, his gaze shifting between the two. The second woman intrigued him more. She was beautiful, with red hair, pale skin, and small breasts. Such women were only born in Meihar, though this one didn¡¯t seem to be from there. She lacked the telltale red freckles on her face¡ªunless, of course, her father had been some barbarian, though most of those there were barbarians.

    The other, the one dancing in front of him, was more robust, with large breasts that drew attention away from her otherwise plain face. Her black hair swayed in rhythm with her movements, but none of this interested Bromir. The few times he had bedded her had made him lose all interest, and the only reason she remained was because of her shy friend. However, the older woman was starting to annoy him.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with this one?¡± Bromir pointed at the shy, red-haired girl, who now tried even harder to avoid his gaze.

    ¡°It¡¯s her first time,¡± the other woman replied without stopping her dance.

    ¡°People may call my father ¡®the Wolf,¡¯ but I certainly don¡¯t bite,¡± Bromir smiled. The girl tried to return the smile. ¡°Garvin!¡± Bromir called out to the man at the far end of the room. The man shot him a dismissive glance. ¡°Never mind, never mind. I won¡¯t trouble you.¡±

    Garvin, as always, kept his distance from Bromir¡¯s whims, but he always made sure to be close by to prevent him from straying too far off the path. Bromir had often tried to foist one or two of the whores on him, but Garvin always refused. Sometimes Bromir thought he preferred men, so he had even offered him a few of those, but Garvin declined them as well. Yet he insisted on being with him, even here, where nothing could harm him¡ªexcept perhaps the teeth of one of these loose women. After all, he was the heir to the throne, and bearing bite marks on his neck would not be the most kingly of appearances.

    ¡°Come here,¡± Bromir extended a hand, beckoning the girl with his finger. She glanced around, looked at the older woman, removed her hands from between her thighs, and timidly rose. ¡°Come, come. I won¡¯t harm you,¡± Bromir insisted.

    ¡°Stand up, Elizara,¡± the black-haired woman spoke with an almost maternal tone, furrowing her brows before quickly returning to her smile. ¡°The lord is calling you.¡± She approached Bromir and tried to touch his thigh. Bromir made her pay for her boldness, and she recoiled, clutching her wrist.

    The brief scene frightened the red-haired Elizara even more. She found herself seated in the same spot, her hands tucked between her thighs once again. Bromir stood up. He was naked, his gaze following her. She avoided looking at him. Instead of waiting, he sat down beside her.

    ¡°You¡¯re trembling. I can feel it. Why are you here? Why are you with the whores?¡±

    ¡°To¡­¡± The words came hesitantly from her lips.

    ¡°Yes?¡± He pressed her on purpose.

    ¡°To satisfy all your needs, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Well done. The madam has taught you how to answer. Is this your first time?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord.¡±

    ¡°The second? Your friend said you¡¯ve never been with a man before.¡±

    The girl nodded in agreement. Bromir stood up before her and offered his hand. She took it, rising to stand before him. He was tall, and she only reached his shoulders.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pity you¡¯ve become a whore,¡± he whispered to her. ¡°You would have made a fine addition to the royal court. My Loren is beautiful, too, but having someone like you around would be an asset.¡±

    Bromir leaned in and kissed her neck, feeling her trembling breasts in his other hand.

    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± he continued quietly, ¡°everyone already knows about you. You¡¯re just another whore now. And for you, a life beyond this hole of a brothel is impossible.¡±

    The red-haired girl nodded sadly. Bromir felt her faint sobbing. He placed his hands on her shoulders and roughly turned her around, pushing her onto the bed. All that could be heard was her sharp cry, which was quickly stifled. The older woman moved toward her.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Garvin had placed a hand in front of her, stopping her. The black-haired woman obediently went to the far end of the room and sat on one of the chairs. She didn¡¯t seem upset, but rather worried.

    Bromir stood up from the bed and grabbed a towel, first wiping the sweat from his face, then the rest of his body before tossing it onto the girl lying on the bed. She was no longer sobbing, just staring blankly at the ceiling.

    ¡°In the end,¡± Bromir spoke as he alternated his gaze between Garvin, whose expression revealed nothing, and the black-haired woman in the corner of the room, who was of no use to him today, ¡°at least she can boast that her second was the future king of Volkar. If her first was some peasant, this is quite an accomplishment.¡±

    Bromir laughed, but Garvin did not join him. He seemed impatient to leave this place. Bromir was as well.

    ¡°My lord, you¡¯ve paid for me too. What can I do for you?¡± The black-haired woman stood and approached.

    Bromir pulled out five more gold coins and tossed them onto the bed beside Elizara. At that moment, he realized how beautiful her name was. And she was beautiful. But no lord would ever want her now.

    ¡°Help her get cleaned up,¡± Bromir gestured toward her. ¡°We¡¯ll meet again soon. And not a word that I was here.¡± Bromir tossed another five coins. One of them landed on the red-haired girl¡¯s body. She didn¡¯t move, still quietly whimpering. The black-haired woman rushed over and grabbed the coins first.

    Bromir and Garvin quietly left the brothel through the back gates. They passed through the bakers¡¯ quarter. Bromir wore a hood that concealed most of his face. He knew the bakers recognized him even with the hood but also knew they wouldn¡¯t say anything, for their heads were on the line. It was also evening, and most had already gone home to their wives, while the others would soon choose between the tavern and the brothel from which he had just emerged.

    Somewhere nearby, dogs were barking. Soon, the royal wolves would begin to howl. And when they did, the dogs would fall silent and hide with their masters.

    ¡°Bromir! Bromir!¡±

    Yorick was running toward him.

    ¡°The old fool,¡± Garvin muttered in displeasure.

    ¡°How did he know we were here?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s probably been in this place for a hundred years. He has ears everywhere. That¡¯s why I told you we needed to be more discreet.¡±

    Yorick was nearly running toward them, breathless.

    ¡°Bromir, your father awaits you at the castle. He wishes to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner, Yorick?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find you. I searched the entire place. Finally, I found out¡­¡± Yorick stopped, caught his breath, and continued, ¡°I found out where you were and headed there.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know where I was.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t. But your father¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see my father. Tell him to wait. I have something else to attend to.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Something else? Your father is waiting for you.¡±

    Bromir quickened his pace, and Garvin followed suit. They left Yorick behind. Bromir could still feel his gaze on them.

    ¡°When I take the throne, I¡¯ll remove him. He¡¯s too soft for my liking. I¡¯ll put you in his place.¡±

    Garvin didn¡¯t respond. They had had this conversation before, and he should have known it by now.

    ¡°You can¡¯t hide from Yorick, my prince, but how do you hide from your future wife?¡± Garvin¡¯s question was more teasing than serious.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t let me in her bed anyway. I hate these unwritten laws, Garvin. What difference does it make whether I sleep with her now or after the wedding?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m on your side, Bromir. But it¡¯s in your best interest to maintain propriety. Many people in the kingdom want to be like you and look to you as an example. After all, you¡¯ll soon be king.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully sooner rather than later, because I¡¯m losing patience. My father is too soft on these sycophants. Especially on Yorick, his advisor. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s Yorick filling his head with nonsense. My grandfather was the same way¡­¡±

    ¡°Yorick was your grandfather¡¯s advisor too. It shouldn¡¯t surprise you that he acted the same way.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t surprise me. But it would be better if both he and my father retired.¡±

    ¡°It will happen sooner than anyone expects, prince. Especially if the messenger comes.¡±

    ¡°The messenger?¡±

    ¡°You know what I¡¯m talking about. We¡¯re waiting for a sign. If we get it, things could happen even before your wedding.¡±

    ¡°And if not?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to wait two years until the battle.¡±

    ¡°And I have no intention of waiting even a day longer.¡±

    For the first time that day, Garvin smiled. Sometimes there were entire days when he didn¡¯t. The first wolf¡¯s howl of the night echoed through the air. Bromir glanced toward the forests beyond the northern part of the kingdom, where the sea ended, and the woods began. The howl carried from there to the castle courtyard, where the three royal wolves were kept. They responded to their wild brethren, and the wolves in the forest answered back. The exchange continued until Bromir could no longer hear them as he pushed open the heavy door to the throne room.

    ¡°Bromir!¡±

    His father¡¯s voice was cold. Bromir could swear the tone reverberated off every wall, and his name pierced his ears like a needle, driving straight into his brain.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡±

    ¡°I had business, Father.¡±

    Bromir approached and bowed as tradition dictated, though even he sensed a hint of mockery in it.

    ¡°Business? Your business is here. Especially when I summon you.¡±

    ¡°News travels slowly to my ears.¡±

    ¡°Yorick personally made sure to find you.¡±

    ¡°Well, he succeeded, albeit belatedly. And I don¡¯t trust others, Father,¡± Bromir glanced at Garvin. ¡°I have my own man.¡±

    His father didn¡¯t react. He waited for his son to sit at the table, then rose from the throne and sat close to them. Garvin took a seat beside Bromir.

    The door opened again, and Yorick stepped toward them with small, quick steps.

    ¡°Yorick, where have you been wandering?¡± His father¡¯s anger extended to him as well.

    ¡°I was searching for the prince, my king.¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s here now. Sit down.¡±

    ¡°Why is he here?¡± Severin didn¡¯t wait and pointed at Garvin.

    ¡°Garvin is with me, Father.¡±

    ¡°That much I can see, but we need to speak privately, Bromir. These are important matters concerning the kingdom. I don¡¯t want foreign ears listening.¡±

    ¡°Then send Yorick away, and Garvin will leave too.¡±

    His father waved Yorick off, and he quickly left the hall, clearly displeased.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn.¡± The gesture was clear.

    Bromir gave Garvin an uncertain look. His man winked quickly and reassured him. Then he rose and left the hall as well. Now, only he and his father remained, along with the two guards, who stood like statues in the throne room, staring at the walls without a trace of emotion.

    ¡°It¡¯s about your wedding, Bromir.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that,¡± Bromir smiled and leaned back in his chair. ¡°Everything is settled. I¡¯m to marry Lady Loren of House Jarr.¡±

    ¡°Be more serious.¡± His father¡¯s tone had softened. ¡°A wedding is not just about drinking and finding ways to visit as many brothels as possible without your wife finding out.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and here I thought that was exactly what it was about.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m old and foolish. I know where you go.¡±

    Yorick! It must have been him who ratted him out. He¡¯d pay for that.

    ¡°As long as you¡¯re under my roof and in my kingdom, I know your every step. Just as I know your brother¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°My brother? He¡¯s preparing to flee to the sea. Why are you worried about him? He¡¯ll be gone soon.¡±

    Severin placed his hands on the table and leaned back as if Bromir¡¯s words were striking him in the face.

    ¡°First, watch how you speak to me. I¡¯m a king first and then your father,¡± his father leaned forward, ¡°and second, I don¡¯t agree with Borin, but what can I do? And right now, it¡¯s more important that everything with the Jarr family goes smoothly. That concerns me far more than whether or not you bed your wife. And if that isn¡¯t happening, make sure your problems don¡¯t disrupt my relationship with her father.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes I feel like you¡¯re the one getting married, Father.¡± Bromir tried to soften his tone. The fact that his father knew about the brothels and everything else had calmed him. At least now he didn¡¯t have to hide anything. ¡°No one knows except Garvin and the whores in the brothel.¡±

    He saw his father¡¯s expression change.

    ¡°And Garvin? Do you trust him?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my king.¡± His father furrowed his brows. Bromir loved to play with his moods. He knew it would irritate him. ¡°And I trust him far more than your Yorick. Even more than you trust your Yorick.¡±

    ¡°Yorick has been in this palace since before you were born and before I ascended the throne. And I hope he remains even after me. I won¡¯t allow you to speak of him that way. Not in my presence. When you take the throne,¡± his father slowed and pointed to the throne behind him, ¡°then you can do as you wish.¡±

    ¡°I agree that Yorick is an important part of your rule. But that he¡¯ll be here after I take the throne¡­ well, that I can¡¯t promise you.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s hope I live to a ripe old age.¡±

    ¡°I wish it for you, Father. As for the Jarr family¡­ rest assured. Lady Loren is in my hands. She loves me so much that she¡¯d even forgive a few dalliances in the brothel. After all, none of the women there are on her level. I can admit that. But,¡± Bromir felt a growing excitement in his voice and satisfaction with every word he spoke, ¡°you, as a man, must admit that a few side pleasures aren¡¯t entirely unnecessary.¡±

    His father leaned back again in his high chair, placing one hand on his thigh and leaving the other stretched out on the table, staring him straight in the eyes. His gaze was so sharp that it seemed to be trying to penetrate his mind. The silence was deafening, and it felt like it lasted an eternity.

    ¡°In a day or two, we¡¯ll have guests from Sunrock. Loren¡¯s family is coming to negotiate the wedding. Her brothers will likely be here too. See that you keep your pants on until then. Don¡¯t make me drive every woman out of the village and shut down the brothel. Because that won¡¯t be just your loss.¡±

    ¡°And where will the knights go at night? At least those who aren¡¯t screwing each other?¡±

    ¡°Bromir!¡± His father¡¯s shout echoed through the hall and struck the stones at every point. Only the two guards standing by the door didn¡¯t flinch. As his father¡¯s face filled with blood, Bromir wondered how many secrets those two had heard over all this time. One day, when he sat on that uncomfortable throne, he would kill them and replace them with simple peasants. Peasants he would kill every few days. He didn¡¯t need ears in the hall other than his own and Garvin¡¯s.

    ¡°Bromir,¡± his father said his name again, but this time calmly and much more quietly. ¡°I want everything to go smoothly. I¡¯m asking you for this. If everything goes well, you might sit on the throne sooner than you think. In two years, the next Great Battle for the throne of Shilan will take place, and if the Gods are with me, I will sit upon it. And all of this will be yours,¡± his father spread his arms wide.

    Bromir didn¡¯t reply. He looked his father in the eye, but this time he saw the King of Volkar, or as they colloquially called this place, the Wolf¡¯s Gate. The resolve his father possessed was unmatched. What he wanted most from him was to inherit that. But his father had a problem¡ªa problem with his kind heart and warm soul. He followed the minds of others, rarely had his own opinion, and above all, he trusted that Yorick. This would be his undoing. But it would be a boon for his heir. The battle was indeed approaching soon, but he didn¡¯t believe Tristan would win. He didn¡¯t believe that battle would decide anything. He didn¡¯t believe there would even be a battle, to be honest.

    ¡°Alright, Father. I¡¯ll do what¡¯s asked of me.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t even a request, Bromir. This is the normal behavior of a prince, especially the heir to the throne.¡±

    ¡°Normal? Why must we all follow these outdated norms of behavior?¡±

    ¡°Because we are the highest in the kingdom. And the people look to us as an example. I¡¯ve tried to teach you that since you were young.¡±

    ¡°Behavior, norms, queens, princes¡­ It¡¯s all the same, Father. People know that when night falls and we hide behind the great doors of the castle, we¡¯re just like them. We use chamber pots, we sleep with the servants, and we cheat on our wives.¡±

    ¡°When you become lord and succeed me, do as you wish. Until then, you live under my roof and by my rules. Norms created by your ancestors, and which I will not break.¡±

    Bromir slowly stood.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, Father. I need to return to my future wife, whom, according to these norms, I cannot touch until the wedding. But don¡¯t worry,¡± Bromir turned his gaze toward the door, where he would soon be walking. ¡°I¡¯ve already satisfied all my needs for today. I¡¯ll try to hold out until the beloved Jarrs leave. But I can¡¯t promise anything.¡±

    Bromir walked past the guards, patting one on the shoulder, opened the door, and headed up the stairs. Garvin wasn¡¯t in the corridors, though he wanted to see him again. Instead, Yorick was there. Bromir winked at him and left him to go to his father.

    As he ascended the stairs, he was smiling.

 Igor

    <hr>

    The die rolled across the cracked, wooden table, which had soaked up spilled wine from locals and strangers alike for decades. It spun a few times before the four men¡¯s eyes, hit one of their cups, and landed with six dots facing up.

    ¡°Well done, well done,¡± said a man with long, wet hair falling into his eyes, as he raised his cup and took a loud gulp before wiping his mouth. The boy waited for him and then picked up the die again. ¡°That makes sixty-two, right?¡± the man asked.

    The boy didn¡¯t answer and instead glanced at his coins, which the two were using to keep track of the score, before rolling the die again in his hand.

    ¡°Are you going to roll, boy?¡± one of the other two men behind the long-haired one spoke up.

    ¡°Quiet, Ivanek,¡± the man across from him almost shouted, smiling. ¡°Let the boy be.¡±

    The boy rolled the die, this time with less force.

    It landed on four.

    ¡°Lucky. Are you continuing?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± This time the boy responded, but there was still uncertainty in his voice.

    The die landed on four again. Then it showed five.

    The boy grabbed the die, but as he was about to roll it again, he lowered his hand and handed it to the long-haired man across from him.

    ¡°Getting scared, are we?¡±

    ¡°I have seventy-five copper coins.¡±

    ¡°You only win them if you reach a hundred.¡±

    ¡°You only have twenty,¡± the boy lifted his head and looked the man in the eyes. He was afraid of him. Even if he managed to win, these people wouldn¡¯t let him leave with the coins. He was sure of that. He was more concerned about the two men behind him. He had learned one of their names¡ªIvanek¡ªbut didn¡¯t know the other¡¯s or the one across from him.

    ¡°Igor, that¡¯s your name, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man was rolling the die between his fingers, watching him.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Listen, Igor. Look at me, and then at my friends,¡± Ivanek placed his hands on the table. ¡°Do we look like cheaters to you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Igor lied, and the man¡¯s two friends burst out laughing, even drawing the attention of a few others in the tavern.

    ¡°Good. Do you have any more money, Igor?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± this time Igor told the truth. He had nothing else. He didn¡¯t even know why he had agreed to play. And with these men, of all people.

    ¡°Wife and children?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he answered more quickly this time.

    ¡°Mother, father?¡±

    Igor shook his head again.

    ¡°You¡¯re really down on your luck.¡±

    The man was right. Igor had nothing left. All he had were a few copper coins in his pocket, which wouldn¡¯t get him far. But now, he had wagered even those. The goal of the game was to reach a hundred, and he was close. He just needed to avoid rolling a one. A one would send him back to the start of the game. He looked around. He was in the middle of some seedy tavern, facing three dubious men. He couldn¡¯t even remember how he had agreed to play with them. They must have bewitched him. Or maybe he was drunk?

    The man across from him looked him straight in the eyes, as if reading his thoughts. Igor watched as he rolled the die in his hand, waiting for him to throw it. The smile on his opponent¡¯s face unsettled him even more. The pile of coins before him was much smaller¡ªaround twenty coins. Why was he so pleased? Igor lifted his cup and took a drink. He swallowed more than he intended, which made him cough. The man¡¯s companions laughed at his attempts to drink. He couldn¡¯t hold his liquor. He never could. His father had tried to teach him, and later the blacksmith, but his throat was too delicate for the heavy rum.

    The man¡¯s die spun several times and landed on one. That was it. The man across from him would have to start over. Igor tried not to show his satisfaction. He glanced at the man, who still seemed amused.

    ¡°Well, a one.¡± The man pushed all his coins back to the center of the wooden table. ¡°I lose everything and start over from scratch.¡± His two friends seemed pleased as well. ¡°Your turn.¡± The stranger pushed the die toward him.

    Igor hesitated. The chance to win was high. Even if he rolled a one, they would be even, and the game would restart. At least he wouldn¡¯t lose. He boldly grabbed the die in his hand and didn¡¯t wait.

    Six.

    He looked around. All three men across from him seemed satisfied as if they were the ones winning. But he had just won six more coins. He reached out and took them. He hesitated, then reached for the die again. He would roll.

    Five.

    Luck was on his side. He smiled and pulled five more coins toward him. The tall one, Ivanek, wasn¡¯t laughing anymore. But the man he was playing against was still pleased.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky.¡±

    Igor pretended not to hear him and rolled again.

    ¡°Another two¡­ that makes eighty-eight.¡± The man calculated before he could. ¡°Go again.¡±

    Igor hesitated. Maybe he should stop and give the man his turn. His opponent was at zero. He had nothing. He wouldn¡¯t catch up. But if Igor rolled again, he might win everything in two or three rolls. Once again, he reached a point where he doubted himself and lacked courage. If he had been brave, maybe he would still be with Zorina. If he had been brave, he would have taken her away from her house and her parents. Zorina wanted him. She was waiting for him to take her. But he hadn¡¯t been brave enough. Instead, he surrendered to wine and rum. Though he wasn¡¯t good with them either.

    The self-blame returned. He felt guilty for his past mistakes. The wine helped. He raised his cup and took a sip. He grabbed the die. He would roll. He would win and go get Zorina tonight. She probably still wanted him. Unless she was already asleep. And at this hour, most people were.

    He raised his hand, spun the die, and prepared to throw it. But his hand was stopped. The greasy-haired stranger before him had grabbed it.

    ¡°Listen, boy. Let¡¯s make the game more interesting.¡±

    Here it comes.

    ¡°No,¡± Igor immediately refused. The man was trying to trick him. He knew it.

    The man laughed and opened his other hand. There was another die in it. Igor looked at each of them in turn. The two on the sides and the one he was playing against looked as though they had been waiting for this moment all evening.

    ¡°I¡¯m close to winning.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. But you¡¯ll need at least two rolls. And the chance that one of those rolls will be a one isn¡¯t small.¡±

    He was right. But Igor wasn¡¯t going to fall for his tricks.

    ¡°No, I want to roll.¡±

    ¡°Well, alright.¡±

    Igor quickly rolled the die. It landed on two.

    ¡°Well, are you satisfied? You have how much now? Ninety? You¡¯ll need at least two rolls to reach a hundred. Don¡¯t you want to double your chances?¡±

    ¡°No, thank you.¡±

    ¡°If you roll both dice,¡± the man continued, ¡°you add the total of both to your coins. With one roll, you could reach a hundred.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. There is a catch. And to be fair, I¡¯ll admit there¡¯s a catch. As I said, we¡¯re not cheaters,¡± the man looked at Ivanek and then back at him. ¡°If one of the dice shows a one, you get nothing. But you don¡¯t lose anything either.¡±

    Igor raised an eyebrow. He still didn¡¯t see the catch. That sounded good too.

    ¡°And there¡¯s more, of course. With two sixes, you win everything, and the game ends.¡±

    ¡°I have ninety coins. With two dice showing five, I¡¯ll still win.¡±

    ¡°Yes. See, double the chance.¡±

    Igor hesitated. He still wasn¡¯t sure what they were trying to do.

    ¡°And with two ones?¡± he suddenly realized, and the man smiled.

    ¡°With two ones, you lose everything.¡±

    ¡°And start over?¡±

    ¡°No. I take everything.¡±

    ¡°But the same rules apply to you.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, boy. After all, you¡¯re speaking with Vasily. Not just any random person.¡±

    Vasily? Igor hadn¡¯t heard of him. Yet he introduced himself as if he weren¡¯t some greasy-haired drunk but rather a member of the royal court. He stared at him. He didn¡¯t look like someone worthy of being close to the king. He didn¡¯t look like a knight either. He looked like a slightly wealthier shepherd. He even smelled bad.

    Igor held the die, grabbed his wooden cup, and took a drink. He knew he had no choice. They wouldn¡¯t let him win the normal way. He had to roll both dice. And after all, he had nothing to lose since he had nothing, to begin with.

    ¡°I¡¯ll roll.¡±

    ¡°I love brave people,¡± Vasily slammed the table so hard that not only the two dice jumped, but even the cups. However, nothing spilled.

    After the brief commotion he caused in the bar and when everything settled a moment later, Igor was already holding both dice in his hand. The chance to win was greater than the chance to lose. But even if he won, these men would take everything from him. He was naive but not stupid. So before he rolled, he smiled.

    The clatter of the dice on the table was the last thing he clearly remembered from that night in the tavern, and when he later recounted his encounter with Vasily, he would skip over how he lost everything. Not because he was ashamed, but because his mind truly didn¡¯t want to remember it. And the wine had taken its toll.

    Indeed, many moments were lost to him, but the next one he clearly recalled was how Vasily was stuffing the coins, both his and Igor¡¯s, into a leather pouch, while Ivanek rubbed his hands together, making animalistic sounds. Vasily extended his rough hand to Igor.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Still, I¡¯m not a cheat, Igor. Everything happened with your consent, didn¡¯t it? Sometimes it¡¯s like that. Our minds always think only of the benefits and ignore the dangers. I suppose at some point you were imagining what you¡¯d do tomorrow with all those coins. Well, I wish you double that amount. But it won¡¯t be tonight.¡±

    Igor remained silent, inwardly blaming himself, cursing Vasily, and condemning all the Gods of this and the otherworldly realms. He felt like everyone in the tavern was staring at him. But the night was so advanced that even if they were, it was unlikely anyone would remember tomorrow. He hoped he wouldn¡¯t remember either. But he remembered that night for a long time.

    ¡°Still, Igor,¡± Vasily interrupted his thoughts, ¡°I have one last offer for you.¡±

    Igor leaned back in his chair and looked at him with a calm gaze. The only thing he had to lose was his coins. And now he didn¡¯t even have those. So he was calm.

    ¡°I¡¯m offering you two silver coins,¡± Vasily leaned forward and placed them in front of him but didn¡¯t withdraw his hand. ¡°You can take them, stay here, get drunk, and by sunrise, you¡¯ll have spent or lost them.¡±

    Igor just raised his head toward him. Vasily continued:

    ¡°Your other option is that I take the coins, but you come with us.¡±

    Igor was surprised. He hadn¡¯t expected this offer.

    ¡°To go with you? Where?¡±

    ¡°That I can¡¯t tell you, boy. But it¡¯s a great privilege that you¡¯re even getting this offer. There have been three of us for as long as I can remember. And those two,¡± Vasily gestured toward them, ¡°won¡¯t be pleased that you¡¯re coming. But I¡¯ll reason with them.¡±

    ¡°But who are you?¡±

    Vasily laughed.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you should have asked before you agreed to deal with us.¡±

    ¡°But you sat with me.¡±

    ¡°Yes and no,¡± Vasily replied. ¡°Now answer. The money, or you come with us.¡±

    Igor slipped his fingers under Vasily¡¯s hand and pulled out the two coins.

    ¡°Well. If that¡¯s your decision,¡± Vasily smiled, threw on his heavy-looking cloak, and turned his back to him. He was the smallest of the three, but also probably the smartest. Ivanek talked a lot but was foolish. The third was rough and hadn¡¯t spoken all evening. In his gaze, Igor saw emptiness and a slightly dumb expression. In the distance, Ivanek turned and winked at him. Igor hated him.

    ***

    Vasily had been right in the end. Igor had nowhere to sleep, no one to go to, and no food. He drank one of Vasily¡¯s coins, and the other he seemed to have lost because he never found it. He could survive the night. He had slept on the street before, especially after drunken nights. Though when you¡¯re drunk, it¡¯s easier. You don¡¯t feel the cold from the ground beneath you, you don¡¯t worry about not having money, and back then, he still had a home to return to. Now he didn¡¯t dare. Not after the way he had left.

    If he could, he would lie down and sleep. And maybe he should sleep. Tomorrow, he would get up and find work for a coin or two. Or at least a place to make some quick money. The last time he had earned some was at Visnya the blacksmith¡¯s. At least he gave him shelter and paid him. Sometimes he even fed him. But Igor, thinking he was better than him, left. He was a good blacksmith, but not better than Visnya. He didn¡¯t know why he had left. Now, with nothing, he regretted it a little.

    ¡°Boy, we have free rooms. Ten coppers.¡±

    Igor turned around. A plump woman, leaning on a straw broom, stood nearby. She was the innkeeper.

    ¡°A room? I don¡¯t need one.¡± He needed one, but he had no money. As usual.

    ¡°Then get up and leave. We¡¯re closing.¡± The innkeeper¡¯s tone grew harsher.

    ¡°Closing? So early?¡±

    ¡°It seems you¡¯ve lost track of time along with your money.¡±

    Igor looked around. The tavern was empty. He was the only one left.

    ¡°Well, are you getting up?¡±

    Igor stood abruptly and stumbled. He hadn¡¯t drunk much, but even a little had been enough to make him dizzy. He reached into his pockets as if to pay. He didn¡¯t know what he would pull out from there. He hoped something was left, but there was nothing.

    ¡°Your friends paid. Keep your money.¡± That was lucky. ¡°If you want, besides a room, I can offer you one of our ladies. They don¡¯t charge much. Though I suspect you have no money at all.¡±

    She was right. He had none. But he didn¡¯t answer. He wasn¡¯t interested in her. He shook himself off and headed for the exit.

    Darkness enveloped him as soon as his tattered boots felt the sand beneath them. The streets of Chernoval were left to the beggars, bandits, the homeless, and him. Now that he thought about it, he easily fit into at least two of those groups. If he had accepted Vasily¡¯s offer, he would have joined the third. He thought of them again. On one hand, he was furious at himself for losing everything; on the other, he began to wonder if he should have gone with them. No. He didn¡¯t want to see them again. That had been a good decision.

    ¡°Boy, you look sweet. Want a freebie the first time and a discount the second?¡± The voice was feminine but rough. Igor stepped aside from her. He could make out her silhouette leaning against one of the houses on the street but couldn¡¯t see her well. He turned forward and quickened his pace. He heard her voice again behind him. He knew their type. He had lived among them long enough. In the end, they always wanted money. And he had none. Then her men would probably beat him. Or even kill him if they decided no one knew him. And right now, he looked like just such a person.

    He didn¡¯t know where he was going. He knew the kingdom, but in the dark, it was harder to judge the path. The stones beneath his feet trembled.

    ¡°Hey, bandit. Don¡¯t walk in the middle of the road.¡±

    He heard the snort of horses and then a loud curse. The two horses and cart passed him, and the man holding the reins gave him a long look. He was inches away from being run over.

    He looked back to see if anyone else was coming but saw no one. Maybe his luck wouldn¡¯t be in the kingdom. If he didn¡¯t find at least shelter by tomorrow, he would leave and try elsewhere. He didn¡¯t like blaming fate, but what had he done wrong in the world to be in this state now?

    It was night, and everyone in Chernoval believed in the God of Night. That¡¯s when the owls came out and chased away the evil spirits. Igor didn¡¯t believe in anything. He had tried praying once or twice. The first time, he prayed to Bat, the God of Money. Well, he brought him nothing. The second time, he tried Bander, the God of Luck. That didn¡¯t help either. So he decided it was all nonsense.

    ¡°Boy, want to try your luck?¡± He heard a voice again nearby. He couldn¡¯t see who was speaking, but it was a woman¡¯s voice. He thought it was another of the street women like the one earlier. And luck he certainly didn¡¯t have. Especially after the games at the inn.

    ¡°I have no money. And even if I had money, I have no luck,¡± he shouted.

    The same voice was heard again, this time seemingly closer:

    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t bedded Visnya¡¯s daughter, you might have some, Igor.¡±

    He stopped. The night, mixed with the silence and the sounds of forest animals nearby, tricked his mind for a moment, and Igor thought he was dreaming. For a moment, he fell into a trance. He quickly snapped out of it.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he replied, almost certain he had imagined it. ¡°Repeat that.¡±

    ¡°Visnya the blacksmith. Does that name mean anything to you?¡±

    Igor stepped closer. Her silhouette was now outlined in the dark, and the whites of her eyes stood out.

    ¡°Do you want to try your luck, Igor?¡± she repeated.

    ¡°How do you know about me? How do you know my name?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t ask you a third time. There are other wretched souls around.¡±

    Igor looked around. There was no one.

    ¡°I have no money.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll give me whatever you have. Even if it¡¯s not money.¡±

    Now he could see her. She had long, black, curly hair adorned with various golden bells. She wore a bluish dress with reddish sleeves. Her eyes reflected the light from one of the street lanterns, and their blue color shone. She looked like a woman he could fall in love with if she were younger. But he fell in love easily, so that wasn¡¯t anything special.

    The woman turned her back on him and entered one of the alleys between the houses of Chernoval. He didn¡¯t know why he followed her. It was as if his legs moved on their own. And strangely, he wasn¡¯t afraid. He just didn¡¯t want to die. He was afraid of death.

    She was beautiful. Not that he had seen her well, but that¡¯s how he imagined her. She walked fast enough that he couldn¡¯t catch up but slow enough that he could keep track of her silhouette. The alley was short and led him to something like a field surrounded by tents on all sides. Some of the tents were lit, others were dark. There were people in front of some, but there was no one in front of the one the woman went to. She entered the tent, and Igor bent down to follow her.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going, sweetheart?¡± The stranger laughed and stopped him.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you want me to follow you?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re about to get into my bed.¡± She was still laughing. Now Igor could see her better. She wasn¡¯t much older than him, but she looked very strange. Certainly stranger than in the dark. He still wasn¡¯t sure what he was doing here or why he continued to follow her.

    The woman entered the tent. Igor made a second attempt to enter. This time she didn¡¯t stop him.

    The place was large enough for someone to lie down and sleep comfortably. With a second person, however, it became a bit cramped. The black-haired woman sat before an incense burner. Light smoke rose from it, but there was no flame. Igor sat across from her. Now he realized.

    ¡°You¡¯re Vanders!¡±

    ¡°Keep your voice down, boy. You haven¡¯t made any great discovery. But it took you quite a while to figure it out. I thought you were smarter.¡±

    ¡°No one likes you here.¡±

    ¡°No one likes us anywhere. So what?¡±

    Igor didn¡¯t respond. The woman pulled out a pile of cards and shuffled them in her hands.

    She shuffled the deck twice and handed it to him.

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Igor recoiled. ¡°I¡¯m done with games for today. I¡¯ve already lost one. I have no time or money for others.¡±

    ¡°You lost because you had doubts.¡±

    ¡°I was cheated.¡±

    ¡°The game was fair. You just didn¡¯t believe.¡±

    ¡°Were you there?¡±

    ¡°No. Now shuffle.¡± She extended the cards toward him.

    Igor took the cards in his hands. As he shuffled them, he looked at them. Each one had a different picture on it. He hadn¡¯t seen such cards before. He shuffled them a bit and handed them back to the vander woman.

    The woman raised her left hand and carefully touched all the fingers of her right hand while quietly whispering something. She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. She was both beautiful and terrifying. This night had no end.

    The vander placed her hand over the deck and drew the first card. When she turned it over, Igor saw a mysterious figure on it, dressed in a long brown cloak with a hood that covered most of his face. In one hand, the man on the card held a staff on which he leaned. Around him, it was night, but the bluish light of the sky and stars illuminated his path. The man was heading straight for it.

    ¡°The Veiled One.¡±

    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Igor asked.

    ¡°The Veiled One is a traveler. He doesn¡¯t stay in one place and moves from city to city. He often appears in different parts of the world, and legends have already begun to be told about him. No one is sure if they¡¯ve truly seen him or if he¡¯s just a product of stories.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ll travel?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s for you to decide.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you do? Read the cards and predict the future.¡±

    ¡°No. I just draw the cards. The rest is up to you.¡±

    The vander placed her hand on the deck again and drew a new card, which she placed on the table.

    ¡°The Seer.¡± The woman smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile. ¡°This is the goddess with the falcon head.¡±

    ¡°I can see that.¡±

    ¡°Look at what¡¯s behind her.¡±

    Igor took the card in his hands and looked at it. The goddess was sitting on the grass with her legs crossed, and her beautiful body ended with the head of a majestic falcon. She had spread her arms and was releasing a bird into the air. Igor stared at it. The goddess seemed to be smiling.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand anything.¡±

    The vander laid the two drawn cards side by side, touched the deck, and closed her eyes. She said nothing about the second card.

    The third card depicted three people, all with hoods and long dark hair from which smoke billowed. Unlike the Veiled One, their faces were almost entirely obscured, but their lips curled into cunning smiles. It was dark all around them, and one of them held an object in his hand. Igor leaned closer and widened his eyes.

    They were dice.

    The vander laughed.

    ¡°That one you can read on your own.¡±

    Igor was confused. Footsteps could be heard outside, and soon a shadow blocked the entrance to the tent behind him, obscuring the light from the now setting moon. The woman smiled at him and nodded for him to see the exit of the tent.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make any sudden moves, boy.¡± The voice was familiar. ¡°I want to see your hands.¡±

    Igor slowly stood up. He turned to face one of the men outside.

    ¡°Well, we meet again.¡±

    It was Vasily.

    ¡°You cheated me,¡± Igor looked at the woman, then at the last drawn card. ¡°You rigged the cards.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t read the future. I just help you interpret it.¡±

    ¡°All Vanders are like that. Cheats. That¡¯s why no one likes you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey, boy,¡± Vasily chimed in. ¡°Watch your words. Vinda is like a talisman to the Vanders. Don¡¯t be so harsh with her.¡±

    ¡°You took everything from me. What more do you want?¡±

    ¡°Me? I live here. I happened to see you, and how could I pass up a meeting with an old friend?¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. You knew. And the card I drew? You were on the card. Even the dice were there.¡±

    ¡°Dice? I don¡¯t see any dice.¡±

    Igor looked again. The three thieves on the card indeed weren¡¯t holding anything. Only one held a dagger just like the one in Vasily¡¯s hand. But many people had such daggers. And they didn¡¯t look like them at all.

    ¡°They were there. I saw them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re tired, boy. It¡¯s normal to dream of my dice. You¡¯ll remember them for a long time.¡±

    ¡°I want to leave.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t happen. Tonight, you¡¯ll come with me.¡±

    Igor tried to rise but felt the cold kiss of steel near his neck. He didn¡¯t need to turn around to know he shouldn¡¯t move.

    ¡°I have nothing.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I want nothing from you.¡±

    Igor was confused.

    ¡°Boy,¡± Vinda spoke, ¡°you¡¯re the first to speak to Vasily like that and still be alive. Watch your words.¡±

    ¡°Listen to the woman, Igor,¡± Vasily winked at the Vander and approached him. ¡°I¡¯m going to make you an offer, and you¡¯re the first to receive this offer a second time. But this time, there¡¯s a condition, just like the last time.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t refuse.¡±

    Vasily grabbed Igor¡¯s hand and pulled it forcefully, exposing his wrist. He pressed the cold blade against his wrist and swiftly drew it toward himself. Igor¡¯s blood stained his hand.

    A stray dog, smelling the blood, approached them.

    Soon, another one joined. A growl could be heard.

 Borin

    The ship''s bow rose and fell with the rhythm of the sea, which was more turbulent that morning than the local fishermen had predicted. The ship, majestic and enormous, danced before Borin, and he reveled in every step of its dance. The joy in his eyes spilled into his soul, making it hard for him to breathe from the excitement and imagination of all the things he could do with the ship and all the places he wanted to go.

    For several mornings now, Borin had been the first to reach the deck, watching the ship''s movements. He would close his eyes and listen only to the waves that licked the wooden hull with a soft splash and then crashed against the nearby rocks. Soon, he would hear that sound again¡ªthis time, from aboard the ship. And the ship would sail into unknown waters.

    The sea was his home, and the God of the Sea would guide him. He didn¡¯t know if that was true, but he felt it was. And that¡¯s what the sailors said. But no one could truly be called a sailor if they had only crossed the open waters of the Western Sea. Borin wanted more. He wanted to sail deeper, to row until no shores were visible behind him.

    ¡°Elrik, Lord Borin,¡± the shipwright, missing a finger on each hand, approached him. The craftsman, with his four-fingered hands, looked at the new ship with the same satisfaction as Borin.

    "I''m ready to set sail, Elrik. The ship looks ready. Yesterday, I climbed aboard just to feel it, to feel the waves."

    ¡°From what I know, it¡¯s not good luck for the captain to board the ship before it''s ready. But those are just superstitions, Prince. How does it feel?¡±

    ¡°Magical. But I don¡¯t want to be the captain, Elrik. Cassius will be the captain.¡±

    ¡°Cassius the Blue? Are you sure about that? I think you should reconsider. Are you aware¡­¡±

    ¡°No, Elrik. I don¡¯t care. I just want to enjoy the sea. I¡¯m not good at navigating or reading the currents. Let Cassius handle the crew. He¡¯s proven himself on more than one voyage. I just want to sail.¡±

    ¡°But his journeys always ended in murder, theft, or smuggling. He even served time in Thorn for some of his crimes. What does your father think?¡±

    ¡°My father doesn¡¯t matter. Well, he does, but if it were up to him, this ship wouldn¡¯t even exist,¡± Borin gestured to the ship. ¡°Don¡¯t expect him to come here, let alone board. My father doesn¡¯t like the sea or the smell of fish. Especially after¡­¡±

    Borin didn¡¯t continue. Everyone knew about Liora, his aunt and his father¡¯s sister, who had disappeared in that very sea and never returned. Borin was sure Elrik understood.

    ¡°The king doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of man who would ever set foot on a ship.¡±

    ¡°You mentioned everything on the ship is ready, but there¡¯s one thing left.¡±

    Elrik smiled and clasped his hands together. Then he continued, visibly more pleased:

    ¡°Every ship, my young prince, to ensure it sails smoothly and doesn¡¯t take on even a drop of water, needs wine.¡±

    ¡°Wine?¡±

    ¡°A proper feast. A blessing, an anointing. Call it what you will.¡±

    ¡°This is the first I¡¯ve heard of such a thing. Won¡¯t the ship sail just fine without it?¡±

    ¡°It will sail, but according to seafaring beliefs, it¡¯s bad luck if the ship isn¡¯t doused with blood and wine.¡±

    ¡°Now blood, too? How many superstitions surround a single ship, Elrik? I¡¯ve already heard two.¡±

    ¡°These are the ones I know. The others, your Cassius will tell you once you set sail, though, knowing him, he¡¯ll be content with wine and perhaps a tender lamb.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like something barbarians would do.¡±

    ¡°Again, I tell you, Prince, if you don¡¯t believe me, ask Cassius. But I warn you, his mouth will water at the mere thought.¡±

    Borin had heard of such traditions, but he hadn¡¯t thought they were still practiced. Behind him, on the wooden pier where they stood, all kinds of people moved about. Some sold fresh fish; others docked or departed with their small boats or ships, heading into the Western waters. Still others recruited crew members or traded goods, whether stolen or purchased from elsewhere. The place was lively and smelled of fresh fish. And nearly everyone, fishermen or passersby alike, knew who Borin was, often meeting his gaze. He was used to it.

    ¡°Prince, have you thought of a name for the ship?¡± Elrik continued to bombard him with questions he didn¡¯t have answers to.

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s another superstition?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it a superstition. Where have you ever seen a ship without a name? When you¡¯re at the mercy of nature and the sea, it¡¯s better to follow every tradition that¡¯s ever helped before. And Captain Cassius will tell you the same. Speaking of which,¡± Elrik pointed toward the ship, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t hurt to load some weapons on the deck, sir. You never know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about that, Elrik. I¡¯ll talk to Cassius. He should know what we need.¡±

    ¡°He knows, indeed. This is the fourth ship I¡¯ve handed over to him. And countless others he¡¯s seized illegally or appropriated. But I¡¯m not the one to judge him.¡±

    Borin couldn¡¯t get enough of the sight of the ship. For years, he had dreamed of a ship to sail the seas. Ever since he was a child, and his father¡¯s sister proudly sailed her own. She slept here on the pier and rarely returned to her room in the kingdom. That, in turn, led Borin to sneak aboard while Liora was away, exploring all her maps and notes¡ªcarefully, without touching anything. And he didn¡¯t understand any of it anyway. He just gazed at ship diagrams, sea charts, and strange words that, as a child, he didn¡¯t understand and now didn¡¯t remember. She loved the sea, and only now did Borin understand why.

    He reached for the top button of his shirt, unbuttoned it, and reached into his chest. His fingers found the metal medallion hanging around his neck, resting against his pale skin, still bare of the thick hair that marked other men. Borin clasped the medallion in his palm, pulled it out, and turned it between his fingers before his eyes. The medallion had a round frame in which an animal, with tentacles like an octopus but a human head, spun.

    ¡°The symbol of Raven Star,¡± Elrik said beside him. ¡°Where did you get it, Prince?¡±

    ¡°It was a gift.¡±

    ¡°From him? From Raven?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Elrik.¡±

    Elrik stared at his chest, where the medallion gleamed, reflecting the sunlight.

    ¡°Forgive me for asking, but how...? It¡¯s believed that Captain Star has been dead for at least ten years. If he isn¡¯t imprisoned in Thorn. No one¡¯s heard anything of him for that long.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true, Elrik. I haven¡¯t seen him either. In fact, only once¡ªwhen he gave me the medallion. I was four, and Raven was just a ship¡¯s captain. But I don¡¯t remember much. I think my father¡¯s sister had brought him to the kingdom for dinner.¡±

    ¡°I remember that, Prince. I had just arrived in Volkar. Your father wasn¡¯t too pleased to have him in his court. It¡¯s something your father probably doesn¡¯t even remember, but I was there. I was building the flower arches over one of the entrances. Your mother wanted the flowers to climb the wall and hang from the arches. She had seen it in Meihar. That was the first and last time I saw Raven Star. And then your father asked me to help with the ship.¡±

    ¡°The Dread Prince?¡±

    ¡°A funny name for a ship, isn¡¯t it? He needed a carpenter to maintain the ship during the voyage. But I had just arrived and was building a house for my family. And I was helping the king¡ªyour father¡ªso I didn¡¯t even consider speaking to him.¡±

    ¡°Raven never returned from that voyage.¡±

    ¡°And the news that followed his disappearance was even worse. Not a word about his death. But there were plenty of reports of arson, robbery, murder, and burnt villages. Even your father was briefly accused of aiding him. By God, King Severin is the best ruler this kingdom could ask for. I don¡¯t believe any of it.¡±

    Borin listened to Elrik as he gazed at the ship. Everything the carpenter said was true. He had heard it, too. But he didn¡¯t believe the stories about Raven Star. In his mind and dreams, Raven was a great ship captain and was still out there somewhere in the wide sea. Just like his aunt. He wanted to be like Raven. He grasped the medallion again and squeezed it.

    Elrik extended his hand and handed him a piece of parchment. Borin took it.

    ¡°A blueprint? Of the ship?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Borin. I don¡¯t need it anymore. Take it with you. You never know what might happen out there on the big blue sea or what places you might find yourself in. Let the next carpenter who encounters the ship know how to help.¡±

    ¡°Elrik, what about you? Don¡¯t you want to come with me and set sail?¡±

    Elrik laughed.

    ¡°No, Borin. I get that offer often, but I¡¯ve never accepted it. I have unfinished business here. Over time, I¡¯ve realized that I¡¯m more needed on land than at sea. And I feel the kingdom still needs me and has more for me to give. Besides, I¡¯m expecting my sixth child. I can¡¯t leave my wife alone with six children while I go off to chase youthful passions.¡±

    ¡°Rest assured, if you come along, your wife and all your children will be well taken care of. I can even bring them into the kingdom to live with my father. He knows you and won¡¯t mind. Your wife can assist the ladies of the court or in the kitchen, and your two eldest sons could become soldiers or even knights.¡±

    Elrik smiled again and placed a hand on Borin¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Borin, you remind me more and more of your aunt. But she was a bit tougher and didn¡¯t plead with simple carpenters like me. Keep dreaming, as you¡¯ve always done, but don¡¯t beg anyone. Especially not someone beneath you. And I am beneath you. I work for money, not for friendship.¡± Elrik removed his hand. ¡°Take it as advice from me. Otherwise, sooner or later, you¡¯ll be left without a ship and come back empty-handed and robbed. The people who board the deck are former murderers, con men, and thieves. That doesn¡¯t mean they won¡¯t be loyal to you or deceive you. But they will watch your every move. And you need to show them that you¡¯re above them at all times. Not by force, but by being someone they need as a leader.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Borin tried to speak, but Elrik continued, stopping him:

    ¡°I may be a simple carpenter, but I grew up around ships. I know what happens there and can tell a good captain from a boy with a dream. You¡¯re a dreamer, Borin. There¡¯s nothing wrong with that. But when you step aboard, be a different man.¡± Elrik pointed to the ship. ¡°Everyone Cassius brings aboard will be a dreamer like you. And they¡¯ll act as if they¡¯re the dreamer on the ship, not you. That¡¯s why you need to show from the start who¡¯s in command.¡±

    ¡°Iris.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me? Iris?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that will be the ship¡¯s name.¡±

    ¡°A good name. Yes, fitting for a ship. But why Iris?¡±

    The ship before him suddenly disappeared. The blue sky reappeared. Borin turned to his left. Elrik was gone. A blonde girl, no older than ten, ran beside him. He looked down. The ground was closer than before, and his sword was gone. He looked into the water and saw himself. But he wasn¡¯t a grown man of twenty-three; he was a child again. He was about ten years old.

    ¡°Borin!¡±

    He felt a pinch on his arm and grabbed the spot where it hurt. He looked up. The blonde girl was laughing and running away from him. He chased after her. Iris. It was Iris. She was so fast that he couldn¡¯t catch her. They ran across the kingdom¡¯s fields, passing his brother, who was surrounded by the ladies of the court and their daughters. He paid them little mind. He was looking for Iris. He saw her braids behind a bush. He crept closer¡­

    ¡°Borin?¡±

    He heard a voice behind him. At first, he didn¡¯t recognize it. Then he turned. It was Elrik.

    He woke up.

    ¡°Prince, are you all right?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ yes. I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°You had a fit or something.¡±

    ¡°Again?¡±

    ¡°Again? Are you ill? Should I call the healer?¡±

    Borin looked around. Two other fishermen were nearby, and everyone was looking at him. He was sitting on the ground.

    ¡°No. I just remembered something. It doesn¡¯t matter, Elrik. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? You¡¯d better get up. There are many people here. They¡¯ll talk.¡±

    ¡°Let them talk. I¡¯m leaving soon anyway. Have you seen Cassius?¡±

    ¡°In fact, I haven¡¯t seen him in a while. I was surprised you chose him. I didn¡¯t know he was still around.¡±

    ¡°Can you find me the best lamb in the kingdom, Elrik? I know you¡¯re a carpenter, but do me this favor.¡±

    ¡°A lamb?¡± Elrik smiled. ¡°I have six. One of them will be where you stand tonight. Consider it a gift from me.¡±

    ***

    The fire crackled near the deck. In the distance, the ship Iris lay almost motionless on the calm sea. The moon had just risen, its reflection stretching across the water almost to the shore before them. At this hour of the night, the deck was deserted. But on the meadow behind the wooden stalls where fishermen sold their fish during the day, the enormous fire consumed the wood one by one, growing with immense power. A few steps from Borin, the lamb lay peacefully on the ground, unaware of what was about to happen. It chewed on the grass, rolling it in its mouth before swallowing. Two boys, no older than five, sat beside it, petting it, and the lamb seemed to enjoy the last moments of its short life.

    Borin lifted the wooden mug and tasted the wine. There was no mistaking its flavor. It was from their vineyards. Even at the edge of the world, he could recognize the aroma of the grapes growing beneath his windows, whose scent woke him every autumn. He had ordered two barrels for tonight. Before they sat by the fire, he thought it would be enough, but now he was starting to doubt it. Cassius, or as they called him here¡ªthe Blue¡ªwas downing glass after glass, and when he went to refill, he drank as much as he could on the spot before refilling his cup. He was a massive and stocky man. Almost all the buttons on his white shirt were undone, and the top one was about to burst from the strain of his thick body. His face had a reddish tint, and now, from the wine, it had turned even redder. He had thin black mustaches, which he liked to stroke, especially when he was deep in thought. His hair was also black, though white strands had started to appear.

    Borin was finishing his second cup, sitting close to the fire, pondering the names Cassius had listed. With those long nicknames that often followed every name daring enough to set sail, it seemed to Borin that Captain Cassius had named at least ten men.

    ¡°Jack Silver, Sharp-eyed Jack, and Griff the Golden-haired. That¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°Only three?¡± Borin lifted his cup again, only to find it empty.

    ¡°Three. But what men¡­ Jack¡¯s been with me from the beginning. A true friend. He¡¯s a trader. Bargains with everyone. Even with me, though we¡¯re friends. You can¡¯t fool him or cheat him out of anything. He always comes out with a coin on top. I used to call him Silvernick, but he got upset. So Silver stuck.¡±

    ¡°How can I trust such a man?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t. It¡¯s that simple. Trust me. I know how to handle him. But he¡¯s crucial to me.¡±

    ¡°And Jack?¡±

    ¡°Jack is my eyes. I¡¯m the brains; he¡¯s the eyes. He can spot a target faster than an eagle. Well, he¡¯s not as fast or strong as an eagle, but he¡¯s shrewd and very smart. He¡¯s saved my life several times.¡±

    ¡°Your life?¡±

    ¡°Long story, Prince. Not just one. I¡¯ll put it this way: I¡¯d trust him with my life.¡±

    ¡°And Griff?¡±

    Cassius laughed, took another sip, and wiped his red mustache with his sleeve.

    ¡°Griff is a beauty.¡±

    ¡°A beauty?¡±

    ¡°Believe me, that¡¯s the best quality you can have on a ship.¡±

    Borin raised an eyebrow and stared into the fire. He didn¡¯t understand, but he didn¡¯t want to. Cassius¡¯s breath was turning his stomach.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard a lot about you, Cassius, though I¡¯ve never seen you in action. But these three¡­¡±

    ¡°If you trust me, you have to trust them, too. I wouldn¡¯t even board a raft without them. Though,¡± Cassius smiled under his mustache, ¡°it probably wouldn¡¯t hold the four of us.¡±

    ¡°The ship is big¡­¡±

    ¡°I saw. Your wooden toy is impressive. Elrik outdid himself again. It¡¯ll be a pleasure to command it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know where we¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°No. I know dreamers like you, Prince. You just want to play, and you have no goal. We¡¯ll cross the waves for a few days, then you¡¯ll get hungry, bored, and want to go back. I¡¯ve seen many like you. But since you¡¯re paying well¡­ I¡¯ll be honest. I want to take your money. I don¡¯t expect this to last more than four or five nights.¡±

    How dare he speak to him like that? Borin¡¯s blood boiled. He was irritated that Cassius didn¡¯t see him as anything more than a child. And he treated him like one.

    ¡°But you¡¯re paying,¡± Cassius repeated. ¡°And we¡¯ll play if you want. It¡¯ll cost you a silver coin per man per day. At every shore where we dock, you¡¯ll pay for the whores and the drink. If this ship¡¯s game drags on too long, we¡¯ll talk about coins again. Don¡¯t try to haggle; I won¡¯t settle for less. But if you decide to give more¡­ well, I won¡¯t stop you.¡±

    ¡°And if you¡¯re right and we just sail and return?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m telling you. You pay day by day, and that¡¯s it.¡±

    Borin listened and tried to process it all. The venture wasn¡¯t too expensive. Enough money and material had been spent on the kingdom¡¯s ship, so those coins weren¡¯t a significant issue. And maybe it would be worth it. But Cassius was right about one thing. Borin had no clear goal. He just wanted to feel the sea beneath his feet. And then? His heart raced at the thought of what came next. What if he got bored that very night and returned with his tail between his legs? His father would be proven right. So would Elrik and Cassius. None of them trusted him.

    ¡°Sir,¡± Cassius interrupted his thoughts again, the taste of wine from Cassius¡¯s breath wafting into Borin¡¯s face, ¡°and one more thing.¡±

    What did he want now?

    ¡°On the ship, we¡¯re equals. You¡¯re not a sir there, nor a lord¡¯s son. You¡¯re just like me and the rest of the boys. But I can command a ship, and you can¡¯t. So, I¡¯ll be above you. If you don¡¯t like it, you can always back out now. And if you don¡¯t like it while we¡¯re at sea¡­ well, don¡¯t take it as a threat, but that beautiful ship would take me to places where even your father and all his power couldn¡¯t find me. And you¡¯d be exploring the depths of the sea.¡±

    He resented being spoken to that way.

    ¡°Well?¡± Cassius extended his hand. ¡°Will we work together?¡±

    Borin looked again at Iris¡ªhis ship, took another sip, and firmly shook Cassius¡¯s hand. The fat ship captain drained his cup, spat noisily into the fire, and went to refill his wine.

    Whenever a celebration sprang up on the meadows around the kingdom, new people from all sides arrived. Tonight was no different. At first, it was just Elrik and his family, Cassius with some of his men and friends, the lamb Elrik had brought, and the three knights who followed Borin everywhere. The knights who accompanied him at every step would be the least of what Borin would miss from Volkar. He was a prince and the king¡¯s second son, which made him an easy target for attacks. He knew that but believed he could protect himself. His father didn¡¯t see it that way. Neither did Tiberius¡ªthe general of the king¡¯s army.

    Now the meadow was filled with all kinds of people. Unknown women danced around the fire, children pulled and tugged at the sacrificial lamb, Elrik had disappeared into the crowd, and drunkards and fishermen drank from the barrels of wine as if it were their last day on Earth.

    Cassius¡¯s heavy bulk bumped into his leg as the captain settled beside him again. This time, he wasn¡¯t alone. On his other side was a young man with black hair that fell around his face and a fringe that nearly covered his eyes. He wore a shabby brown coat over his shirt, and every time he spoke to Cassius, he leaned forward as if he wanted their conversation to remain between them. Cassius shook his head at the newcomer¡¯s recitation and turned to Borin.

    ¡°This is Jack.¡±

    ¡°Your brain?¡± Borin glanced at the sailor, who greeted him with a sly smile.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Cassius took a drink and shook his head, glaring at the fire as if he were threatening it. ¡°He¡¯s smart, that bastard.¡±

    ¡°And the other two?¡±

    Cassius struggled to turn his bulk around, but when he failed, he turned back to the fire, staring straight into the flames.

    ¡°They¡¯re somewhere back there,¡± he pointed behind him, ¡°in the crowd.¡±

    ¡°When will I meet them?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s time, boy. Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow we think about work. And those,¡± Cassius pointed to the three knights standing beyond the meadow, watching them, ¡°how do we get rid of them?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way, Cassius. They have orders and will follow them even if it costs them their lives. I assume they¡¯re my father¡¯s men.¡±

    ¡°To you, they¡¯re your father¡¯s men; to us, they¡¯re your men. After all, you¡¯re from that lot over there,¡± Cassius pointed to the castle, ¡°and still? Even on the ship?¡±

    ¡°No! If I must, I¡¯ll take their lives, Cassius, but the ship will carry me, you, and your men.¡±

    ¡°And maybe a few girls,¡± Cassius laughed. Jack laughed along with him, even though he probably hadn¡¯t heard their conversation.

    Borin was starting to dislike them. There was no chance he would bring women aboard. And as he watched them, he wondered if these were the best sailors in the kingdom. He could only imagine what the worst would be like.

    He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Elrik.

    ¡°Prince?¡± Elrik knelt behind him and, with his familiar calm voice, reminded him, ¡°If you keep drinking, the night will pass, and you¡¯ll forget why we¡¯re here.¡±

    He was right. Borin almost immediately stood up. Cassius and Jack remained seated by the fire. The warriors in the distance also stirred, seeing Borin rise.

    ¡°Elrik, get those kids away from there.¡±

    Elrik motioned to the children, but they didn¡¯t hear or see him. Then the carpenter whistled loudly, and two women approached, pulling the children away from the lamb. It looked around for a moment, then bit off another blade of grass.

    Borin approached, bent down, and took the rope around its neck. He tugged it towards him, and the lamb stood up, obediently standing beside him. It let out a weak bleat, but it was really just looking for its mother. Borin walked towards the ship, with Elrik and Cassius following him. Cassius was swaying, already drunk. A few people from the crowd on the meadow also broke away and followed them. The majority, however, remained to revel. He was right. Most didn¡¯t even know why they were there.

    The wooden pier had dried out. The sea was calm, with no waves. The ship Iris lay almost motionless. Borin turned his back on it and faced those who had followed him. Behind them, the three royal guards crept closer.

    ¡°A speech, Prince!¡± Cassius raised his cup high. Now that Jack was beside him, Borin could see just how large the difference was between the two men.

    ¡°I¡¯m not much for speeches. But if I must say something, I will. The ship that Elrik built has been my dream for years. Ever since I saw a great man, to me, a sailor, who is now my next dream¡ªRaven.¡±

    ¡°Raven Star?¡± Cassius shouted loudly. ¡°What are we looking for with that scoundrel?¡±

    Borin pretended not to hear him and continued.

    ¡°Tomorrow, I will seek my father¡¯s permission, King Severin, to set sail, and in a few days, I will depart.¡±

    ¡°Hooray!¡± Cassius didn¡¯t stop reminding everyone of his presence.

    ¡°And now,¡± Borin drew a long knife from his belt, grabbed the animal¡¯s snout, and ran the blade across its throat. The lamb bleated for a moment, then gurgled. Blood flowed down Borin¡¯s hands, dripping between the planks of the pier. Borin took a wooden bowl and placed it under the animal¡¯s throat while the blood still gushed strongly. When he had enough blood, he let the lifeless body fall to the ground and approached the ship. He dipped his fingers into the bowl, smeared them with the warm blood, and stood before his ship.

    For a moment, in the distance, the moon glinted at him, catching his attention. Tonight it wasn¡¯t full. It shone, half of it hidden by what the old books called the dragon¡¯s back.

    Suddenly, the image of tonight¡¯s moon appeared on the ship. Painted in blood. No one said anything. Only Cassius roared:

    ¡°Let¡¯s drink!¡±

 Sylvia

    SYLVIA

    The touch of his lips on hers sent a shiver down her spine. They had been together for so long, yet every moment with him felt as electric as the first. The primal passion between them had not waned; she desired him constantly, in every fleeting opportunity. Even now, within the cold stone walls of the kingdom, his warm body radiated heat into her. She could stay entwined with him for hours, days, a lifetime if she wished.

    Volkar was far from her dream home, and truthfully, she preferred the warmer lands of the south. But when she was with Riven, none of that mattered. She loved lying beside his warm body at night, feeling the pulse of life thrumming through every part of him. During the day, when their duties called, she admired his confident gaze and the way he commanded her. Though she believed herself stronger in battle, he always made the right decisions, leading them to victory time and again. Well, almost every time. She recalled the incident at Ulfric''s tavern, but that was in the past. Whenever she brought it up, his usually calm demeanor would transform into something fierce, the same barbarian intensity he displayed only in battle.

    But none of that mattered now. It was morning, and he was in her arms. Sylvia ran her hand across his waist, digging her nails into his skin and pulling him closer. He let out a soft grunt of pain, his eyes briefly closing. Then he looked at her again as a thin trickle of blood ran down her fingers. Riven pulled away slightly, glancing at the blood dripping from his back, and bared his teeth. His black hair fell over his eyes, his dusky face blending into the shadows, leaving only his dark eyes glowing. She laughed, and he roughly turned her onto her stomach. She liked that too.

    But every fantasy and pleasure died when she heard her name, followed by knocks on the door of their small room at the edge of the kingdom:

    ¡°Sylvia¡­¡±

    They both froze, listening. She saw in Riven''s eyes that he was not pleased.

    ¡°Sylvia... Riven!¡±

    The voice was still quiet but insistent. They had to open the door. She knew, and he likely did too, who was looking for them. The voice was familiar. But if it was him, they had to answer. It was always something important.

    Riven rose quickly, pulling on his brown trousers. She remained lying on her back, watching his lean, tall figure as it moved to open the door instead of staying with her. A morning ray pierced his back. Outside, the air smelled fresh, and the sea crashed against the rocks.

    Riven opened the door, his body blocking her view of their guest. All she could see was the darkness of the corridor beyond. The good thing was that light flooded into their room. The bad thing was that to reach this place, one had to navigate long, dark tunnels lit by two, at most three, candles. She hated the wolfish kingdom, preferring the warmer southern lands.

    ¡°May I come in?¡± asked the familiar voice.

    Sylvia, still naked, covered herself with the white sheets and stayed in bed. Riven stepped aside, and the familiar man entered. He was tall, with black hair shorter than Riven''s, and a gaze that could make you trust him completely¡ªright up until the moment he killed you when your back was turned. Riven waited for him to enter, checked the corridor for any others, and shut the door behind him. He pulled up one of the wooden chairs and sat down. The man found the other chair and did the same.

    An awkward silence settled between them before anyone spoke, with glances thrown in all directions around the room. Riven wasn¡¯t much of a talker and was unlikely to start the conversation. So Sylvia spoke first.

    ¡°Garvin?¡± Sylvia tried to make his name sound dignified, but her half-naked state caused his gaze to wander.

    ¡°Sylvia?¡± He responded with a question of his own and removed his hood. His eyes were almost identical to Riven¡¯s. He was her type, but she would never choose him over Riven. There was something sinister and secretive about Garvin. She disliked such people. Riven might speak rarely, but when he did, it was always direct and unfiltered.

    Sylvia found her light robe, crumpled among the heavy blankets on the wooden bed, and began to put it on slowly in front of Garvin. He looked away.

    ¡°As if you¡¯ve never seen a woman before.¡±

    ¡°Certainly not in front of her man.¡±

    ¡°Relax, you have nothing that surpasses Riven,¡± she told him, bluntly honest.

    ¡°Of that, I¡¯m sure,¡± Garvin replied, glancing at Riven, who remained silent, showing no interest in their conversation. But he surely wanted to know why Garvin was here. As did she.

    ¡°Look, I have a job for you.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to come for anything else. What is it this time? Do we need to steal something? Or kill someone? You know we¡¯re not into killings. We barely escaped from Ulfric¡¯s tavern... And as for what you promised¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss the tavern another time. And as for what I promised, I¡¯ve already paid you more than you were due.¡±

    ¡°Oh, how brazen!¡± Sylvia pulled on her pants, which she only wore when a journey awaited. It was clear they would accept and that they¡¯d have to leave immediately. Riven continued sitting half-naked by the door, watching them. Even now, he excited her so much that she would have jumped on him right then. Garvin¡¯s presence didn¡¯t bother her.

    ¡°That time, Ulfric misled me,¡± Garvin continued, his gaze flicking between Sylvia and Riven. ¡°He said the Sops brothers would be there.¡±

    ¡°And instead, we ran into the whole Black Brotherhood, huh? And why should I believe you had nothing to do with it?¡±

    ¡°I had something to do with it. I sent you there, didn¡¯t I? The rest was a misunderstanding, which I¡¯ve since smoothed over with them¡ªand with you. If you recall, I paid you much more than I was supposed to. But the Sops brothers are still at large, unfortunately.¡±

    ¡°Strange. Someone said they were sent to Thorn.¡±

    ¡°Sadly, we weren¡¯t that lucky.¡±

    ¡°No, Garvin.¡± Sylvia¡¯s tone surprised even herself as she raised her voice. ¡°We¡¯re not going after them again. I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re so fixated on those two, but I refuse. And I won¡¯t even ask Riven if he agrees. I know he doesn¡¯t. Even though he would accept almost any job.¡±

    ¡°He will agree. Unlike you, he doesn¡¯t pick and choose and likes the money.¡±

    ¡°I like money too. But I also like my life.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the Sops.¡± Garvin hurried to change the subject. ¡°I have another task for you, much sweeter than that. And probably the easiest one you¡¯ve ever had.¡±

    ¡°Just talk money.¡±

    ¡°The king is getting married?¡±

    ¡°Severin?¡± Sylvia looked at Riven. ¡°What happened to the queen? It¡¯s true we don¡¯t get out much, especially not during the day, but how could we miss something like that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m talking about Bromir. Your future king.¡±

    ¡°That little lordling isn¡¯t likely to become king anytime soon.¡±

    Garvin stood abruptly, his gaze shifting. Riven tracked him with his eyes and suddenly reached toward the mattress. Sylvia knew most of the hiding spots for his knives, but under the mattress?

    ¡°Stay calm, Riven,¡± Garvin noticed. ¡°You¡¯re not under threat. Sometimes I wonder what¡¯s wrong with you. Do you think I¡¯d come here just to kill you? Me? When I could simply send two or three guards?¡±

    ¡°Two or three would be too few.¡±

    Garvin sat back down, took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, and began again:

    ¡°First, if you draw a weapon on me again, you¡¯ll find yourselves in a ditch outside the kingdom. And if you¡¯re lucky, you might still be alive. And second, be careful how you speak about Bromir because he is the one under whose roof you sleep, for whom you work, and who allows you to act like more than the peasants you truly are.¡±

    Sylvia didn¡¯t respond. Riven continued to watch Garvin with the same look. Riven admired him in a way and always spoke highly of him. Yes, Garvin provided them with shelter and work, but she always saw something sneaky in him. However, Riven revered him, saying he was the smartest man he knew. But he only said that to her, never to Garvin.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t I provided you with one of the best servant rooms in the kingdom?¡±

    ¡°And the coldest,¡± Sylvia interrupted again.

    ¡°You have access to the king¡¯s dinners every night.¡±

    ¡°We scrape the leftovers, to be honest. But we don¡¯t complain about the food. We¡¯ve eaten worse slop.¡±

    ¡°And you have the protection of the royal guard.¡±

    ¡°Well, Riven could handle at least five of them on his own. You could have left that last part out.¡±

    Garvin¡¯s cold eyes met hers again. She enjoyed playing this game with him.

    ¡°Still, very few people in the kingdom can boast about what I¡¯ve just listed.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve earned all of it, Garvin. Yes, we live well here, but we¡¯ve worked for it with these,¡± Sylvia raised one hand, then the other, ¡°these hands. And we¡¯re your loyal dogs. Aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Garvin placed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes with his whole hand.

    ¡°Do we have to go through this every time, Sylvia? Riven,¡± he turned to the other man in the room, ¡°say something. Defend me from your wife. She¡¯s riling me up again, and we¡¯re wasting both my time and yours.¡± Garvin glanced at the unmade bed. ¡°Then again, who knows about your time? Maybe you take breaks from screwing each other all day long.¡±

    ¡°Get to the point, Garvin.¡± Riven¡¯s heavy voice and the coldness in his tone made even Sylvia¡¯s smile freeze. Finally, he spoke. Sometimes she grew tired of his silence, but when he did speak, she regretted wanting him to. He exuded power, making her feel weak. She didn¡¯t like feeling weak.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Straight to the point. The prince is getting married.¡±

    ¡°Bromir?¡±

    ¡°Bromir.¡±

    ¡°Strange. I¡¯ve seen him around the brothel a few times. Honestly, I expected to see his brother there, not him.¡± Sylvia stopped abruptly and continued quietly, ¡°I¡¯ve said something I shouldn¡¯t have, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear you this time.¡±

    ¡°Well, men do that,¡± she looked at Riven, ¡°even mine would go.¡±

    ¡°How do you know he doesn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I just know.¡± The question irritated her. ¡°So what if Bromir¡¯s getting married? You don¡¯t expect us to hold the princess¡¯s dress, do you? Or sew the ladies¡¯ gowns in the palace. That would be too much.¡±

    ¡°You will ensure the wedding happens.¡±

    ¡°Speak plainly, Garvin.¡±

    ¡°The southern kingdoms will be invited personally by the king.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Sylvia realized where this was going.

    ¡°I want you to head north,¡± Garvin continued.

    ¡°No!¡± she repeated. It felt like a punishment. She didn¡¯t believe in fate or gods, but just as she was thinking about the warm kingdoms, the sun, the deserts, and the hot sand, now they had to head north. ¡°You can¡¯t send us there again, Garvin. We just got back.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since you returned, and it wasn¡¯t recent. Besides, you¡¯ll have royal passes with seals. I¡¯ll provide you with men from the kingdom¡¯s guards. I can even find a knight or two, but if you ask me, they¡¯re useless outside the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Riven stood, startling Garvin again, who raised his hands to protect himself but quickly lowered them. ¡°We don¡¯t want an army or any of your men. Give us the details. What do we need to do?¡±

    ¡°Wait, Riven!¡± Sylvia found the strength to intervene. ¡°Why are you deciding without me? Shouldn¡¯t we discuss this?¡±

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to listen to your arguments. You have the option to accept or leave the kingdom. We made an agreement, and that hasn¡¯t changed. If you accept, you¡¯ll be paid handsomely. If you refuse, you¡¯ll leave this room and the kingdom before the wedding. It¡¯s that simple.¡±

    ¡°What do we need to do?¡± Riven had already decided. It wasn¡¯t that she was angry; she was upset that he didn¡¯t want to hear her.

    ¡°Pass through Chernoval and invite King Zoran on behalf of King Severin of Volkar. If he has any questions, answer them. You¡¯ll present yourselves as messengers of the kingdom. There¡¯s no need for him to know who you are. He¡¯ll likely offer you to stay for the night. Accept if you wish. I doubt you¡¯ll refuse. Chernoval is quite pleasant.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡± Sylvia quickly asked.

    ¡°Then return. With them if you wish, or on your own.¡±

    ¡°So you want us to do the job of a pigeon. To travel through the kingdoms, pretend to be polite, and dine with kings and princes while we pretend to like them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you more than a pigeon.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll do it, Garvin.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you will. And I¡¯m counting on you. First, tame your wife, then get the job done. I¡¯d give it solely to you, but I know you can¡¯t be without each other.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re exceptionally kind sometimes,¡± Sylvia chimed in. She took the key from Garvin¡¯s hand. It was beautiful and appeared valuable. She had something similar, though not made of gold. She kept it close to her chest. It was a carved heart in a piece of wood. Her sister had given it to her the last time they saw each other. But that was so long ago that she didn¡¯t even know where her sister was or if she was even alive. If it ever came to choosing which to keep, she would throw away the key. Sometimes she missed her sister.

    Sylvia looked at Riven. He was ready and willing. She could tell just from his gaze. So why were they still discussing it?

    ¡°And who will go to Iskhold and the capital?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve taken care of Iskhold. And something tells me Hakon won¡¯t be keen on coming. As for the capital,¡± Garvin laughed, ¡°do you really think they¡¯ll let someone like you in there? We¡¯ll handle that differently. But there¡¯s something else I want you to do,¡± Garvin continued. ¡°You must return before the wedding. I don¡¯t care if you come back with the people of Chernoval or with the capital¡¯s army. Not that they¡¯ll take you, but you must return, preferably before them.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be here, Garvin.¡± Riven was promising on her behalf again.

    ¡°I¡¯m counting on you.¡±

    ¡°Just him?¡±

    Garvin didn¡¯t answer her and only smiled. She rarely saw him smile, and he was quite handsome when he did.

    ¡°So?¡± Garvin opened his hands. ¡°When do you leave?¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Riven stood. ¡°There¡¯s a village down by the border with Mayhar, near the Middle Sea.¡±

    ¡°Moonstone?¡±

    Riven nodded.

    ¡°Let me guess, you want Moonstone?¡±

    ¡°I want land there when all this is done.¡±

    Garvin considered it, and since he didn¡¯t refuse outright, there was a chance. Sylvia knew why Riven was doing this. He was doing it for her. He knew how much she loved the warm weather, and there, even still within Volkar¡¯s borders, it was warm. They had passed through a few times over the years. To the south were the beautiful Mayharian flower valleys, to the west were the mountains sheltering the village, and to the east was the vast sea. She adored it.

    ¡°Fine, but you¡¯ll have to do something else for me.¡± The tall morning intruder smiled slyly, as if waiting for this moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. ¡°I know how much you love taverns and inns,¡± Garvin stood, approached Riven¡¯s shirt draped over the bed, and slipped the note into one of its pockets. ¡°When you reach Chernoval, stop by the largest inn, and when a black-haired singer appears, give her this note.¡±

    ¡°How will we recognize her?¡± Sylvia asked a logical question.

    Garvin looked at Riven.

    ¡°Trust your man. He has a nose for women.¡±

    She didn¡¯t know how to react to that. So she said nothing.

    ¡°And then we¡¯ll get the lands?¡±

    ¡°Return before the wedding, and if everything goes well, you¡¯ll have all of Moonstone.¡±

    ¡°How will you know everything went well?¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll know.¡±

    ¡°All the lands?¡±

    ¡°All the estates and the large house of Lord Kravets that overlooks the sea.¡±

    ¡°Do we have your word?¡±

    ¡°If you do everything right, I have no reason not to give them to you. The wedding will bring many changes, and changes come with new people. Help me, and Bromir will help you.¡±

    ¡°A new order? What¡¯s going to happen?¡± Sylvia was curious.

    ¡°That¡¯s none of our concern,¡± Riven cut her off. Garvin nodded. He agreed. ¡°I hold you to your word, Garvin.¡±

    Garvin opened his hands again and nodded.

    ¡°What happens if we fail or don¡¯t return?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you will, but if you do, I¡¯ll do everything in my power to make sure there¡¯s nowhere for you to hide. And even if I don¡¯t find you now, I will someday. And the punishments for those who oppose the new order will be far harsher than those under King Severin.¡±

    ¡°But you keep mentioning this new order. What¡¯s so special about it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out when the time comes. For now, I¡¯m glad we have an agreement. I¡¯ve prepared two of my best horses for you.¡±

    ¡°We want a cart too.¡± Riven¡¯s voice sounded again.

    ¡°A cart?¡± Garvin pondered. ¡°I can get you one, but it won¡¯t be anything special. Just planks on wheels.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. Even if it doesn¡¯t have a roof. The journey is short, but I don¡¯t want to walk.¡±

    ¡°No need to explain. There¡¯ll be a cart waiting for you with the stable boy.¡±

    ¡°How much time do we have?¡±

    ¡°You have as long as you need to finish what you were doing before I came in. After that, it might be time to leave.¡± Garvin glanced around the room and smiled again in that infuriating way.

    Sylvia opened her mouth, but when she saw Riven rise again, she fell silent.

    ¡°I want a new sword too.¡±

    ¡°What about this one?¡± Garvin pointed to Riven¡¯s sword, propped against the wall. ¡°That¡¯s better than anything the blacksmith can make in such a short time.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I need another one. Ordinary. The most ordinary.¡±

    ¡°What do you need it for?¡± Garvin asked but quickly changed his mind. ¡°Fine, that¡¯s your business. Stop by the blacksmith before you leave.¡±

    Garvin smiled, opened the door, and disappeared through it. Sylvia hadn¡¯t heard the latch click before she jumped on Riven and wrapped her arms around his neck.

    ***

    ¡°What do you think, Riven?¡± Garvin held a sword with a dark brown hilt and a finely crafted blade that beautifully reflected the light streaming through the small windows of the forge.

    Sylvia hadn¡¯t expected to see Garvin at the blacksmith¡¯s, but regretted not anticipating it.

    Riven took the sword from Bromir¡¯s advisor¡¯s hand and flexed his wrist a few times.

    ¡°No. This is too good.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you, Riven. This is the worst Anders can make. Over forty blades leave here every day. You don¡¯t expect any of them to be bad, do you? They¡¯re used to protect the kingdom, not hunt rabbits.¡±

    Garvin took the sword from his hand and gently placed it with the others. There, hundreds of blades lay, waiting to be taken into someone¡¯s hand and do the work they were forged for.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything worse to offer you. We have a standard we don¡¯t fall below. After all, the king demands the best.¡±

    Sylvia watched the blacksmith. He was a young man with blond hair, not in his prime but not old either. Soot had covered his face, making it look as though it would never return to its former state. Instead of a beard, he had a few blond stubble hairs, and from the fire and heat in the forge, the whites of his eyes were tinged with red, and his brown pupils were almost invisible, making his eyes so dark they seemed like holes in the darkness.

    ¡°What about this?¡± Sylvia held a small sword. It resembled the larger one Anders had offered, but it was three times smaller. Sylvia held it delicately, twirling it in her wrist as she admired the blade. She was enjoying it.

    ¡°I have another one like it,¡± Anders showed it to her.

    ¡°Another one? I want this one,¡± Sylvia quickly stepped closer to him. ¡°They¡¯re beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Looks like Sylvia found her toys. Now it¡¯s your turn, Riven. I still don¡¯t understand why you need a second sword, and a weaker one at that, not just compared to yours, but to what we have?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my business. If you want everything to go smoothly, find me a blade to my liking.¡±

    ¡°Unless I take you across to the carpenter. He might be able to make what you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Sylvia laughed but stopped when she saw Riven was serious. He was always serious.

    ¡°That one.¡± Riven pointed at the thin brown belt Anders wore. From it protruded a sword with a small hilt and a long, narrow blade.

    ¡°This?¡± Garvin laughed, went over to the blacksmith, grabbed the thin sword by the hilt, and pulled it from the belt. ¡°This is for children, Riven. I don¡¯t even know why our blacksmith has it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I need.¡± Riven pulled it from Garvin¡¯s hands, carefully inspected the blade, and looked up at Anders. ¡°Do you have children, boy?¡±

    ¡°Two. Two boys. I made this for the older one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to make him a new one.¡±

    ¡°But sir, the letter is engraved.¡±

    ¡°And? What¡¯s his name?¡±

    ¡°Inn.¡±

    ¡°Tell Inn that his sword is going to greater deeds. If I return alive, I¡¯ll deliver it to him myself.¡±

    ¡°But sir¡­¡±

    ¡°Quiet, Anders.¡± Garvin stepped between them and gently pushed the blacksmith back. ¡°Riven, if you¡¯re satisfied, let¡¯s get out of here before anyone sees me with you. And you,¡± Garvin looked back at Anders, ¡°forget I was here. Forget about the two of them.¡±

    Anders nodded twice and caught the silver coin Garvin tossed to him in mid-air.

    ***

    The white horse followed the worn path leading out of the kingdom at a slow pace. Riven held the reins, gently guiding the animal and cursing softly when he needed to adjust its speed. Sylvia was lying in the hay they had spread in the back of the cart, staring up at the sky. Clouds blocked the sun, and a light mist of rain dripped down. Sylvia laughed every time a drop hit her light blue eyes, rubbing them like a child with her pale hands. The two small blades she had taken from the blacksmith Anders were snugly strapped to her thighs. Sylvia loved pulling one of them out and gently running her fingers along the edge.

    The rain grew heavier, and the sky flashed several times. Lightning struck in the distance. Sylvia fastened a large piece of cloth to one side of the cart, stretched it to the other, and then ducked under it. The rain pattered on the cloth above. She closed her eyes and thought of her mother. She missed her. Her father, not so much.

    The cart rattled over a few stones beneath it, then continued smoothly.

    Riven wasn¡¯t afraid of rain or lightning. When thunder clapped or lightning flashed and the horses jumped, he would place his hands on their rumps and speak to them softly. It truly calmed them.

    Sylvia lay under the cloth in the cart, listening to the drops falling above and trickling down the sides, imagining the morning in Moonstone.

    She was on the veranda of the large house where Lord Kravets once lived. She looked out at the sea, and the gentle breeze licked her forehead and cheeks. Then Riven appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Several children ran past them.

    Then she saw her sister.

 SELEN

    ¡°Lady Selen, a letter.¡±

    Valeris approached her and tried to hand her the scroll. Selen placed two fingers on her hand and gently pushed it away.

    ¡°No, Valeris. You read it.¡±

    Valeris stood taller than the other two ladies behind her. Her figure was more slender, her shoulders broader, and her cheekbones more prominent. Her gait was exactly that of a warrior, as she had been before Selen had successfully pulled her away from the battlefield. Something about Valeris¡¯ chestnut hair had captivated Selen, making her choose not to send her on campaigns with the rest of the army. Valeris was beautiful, but she was also strong. She unrolled the scroll deftly, yet gripped the parchment firmly. She had the skin of a woman and the strength of a man, with a face that was both beautiful and rugged.

    Selen waited for her to open the scroll and then turned her back on all three women. She preferred the view of her courtyard, where the grass was already sprouting, and the trees and flowers were beginning to bloom. Even the falcons had returned, perched on high hedges, watching for wild or domesticated animals belonging to the peasants who lived in and around the kingdom. She always loved standing and gazing from here, becoming entranced whenever the wind caressed her face and closed her eyelids. The same would have happened now if Valeris hadn¡¯t spoken:

    ¡°Lady Selen,¡± Valeris raised her head and informed her without reading, ¡°King Severin of Volkar is marching south with his army. The message is from the border guards. They¡¯re warning you that he¡¯s headed this way.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Selen turned around. ¡°Does it say why, Valeris?¡±

    ¡°Yes. They¡¯re pursuing the barbarians.¡±

    ¡°After the barbarians? Again?¡±

    ¡°It says the barbarians are once more heading north and are even now on the main road. They¡¯ve passed through Solis¡¯ lands.¡±

    ¡°Impossible. If there were barbarians on the main road in my territory, I would know. Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°No, just the seal. The seal bears the falcon symbol.¡±

    ¡°Ours.¡± Selen walked toward her and took the parchment from her hands. She read the text twice, confirming it for herself.

    ¡°How many of the contenders are ready?¡±

    ¡°All of them.¡±

    ¡°All of them?¡±

    ¡°There are two years left until the Great Battle, Lady. Ever since Eliana started training, everyone has been working hard. And all the contenders beneath Eliana are allowed to train with her, which is why I keep them in top form. Those who lack the strength or fall behind are assigned as guards and removed from the contenders. None of them wants to fall from contender to mere guard.¡±

    Selen waved a hand. She trusted Valeris and had no need for demonstrations or empty words. But Valeris loved to talk, especially when it came to war and battles. No one could outtalk her on that subject.

    ¡°And men? How many do we have?¡±

    ¡°None.¡± Valeris stepped forward again. ¡°I tried to form at least one squad of men this year, but those who were fit for anything were not even half as good. The best warriors go north to Blackwall or Volkar. Even to Solis in the south. Here, we¡¯re left with only those unfit for those places. And with so many women around, they usually think of only one thing and forget why they¡¯re here, which makes them eventually quit on their own. It¡¯s impossible to find male fighters for Meihar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s normal, Valeris. I didn¡¯t expect anything else. Find the best for Eliana. If they¡¯re all women, then women they shall be. It¡¯s never been a problem for the kingdom. It¡¯s even better this way. I want Eliana to be well-prepared. Before she faces the best warriors, she should have already defeated them several times. Find her the biggest monster or the bravest warrior, regardless of gender. If she beats them, the arena will be easy afterward.¡±

    ¡°That will be difficult, Queen.¡±

    ¡°How difficult it will be, I¡¯ll decide. You three just follow orders.¡± Ivora and Thalia stepped out from behind Valeris. They were looking at the ground, seemingly frightened. She didn¡¯t mean to be so harsh. None of the three ladies deserved it. And while Valeris was brave and uncompromising, the other two were like deer, and Selen always had to be gentle with them.

    Valeris also guiltily lowered her head. Selen could sense her anger. She loved seeing her furious. When Valeris was angry, she worked even harder. Selen knew each of their weaknesses. She reached out and stroked her. She knew how to handle each of them. Valeris raised her head with a slightly more determined look. She was a warrior, and no one could take that from her.

    ¡°Valeris,¡± Selen softened her tone. ¡°Send word to the borders. Tell them that Severin is welcome, even without his army. The army can wait on the main road. I don¡¯t want them trampling my gardens. To the north, they¡¯re like barbarians, no different from the barbarians. Don¡¯t tell them that, of course. Only Severin and his closest companions may enter. The others can go around. We¡¯ll feed them, but not here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Selen. And what about the real barbarians?¡±

    ¡°Am I in charge of the kingdom¡¯s defense, or are you?¡± She had to raise her voice again, which she didn¡¯t want to, but what other choice did she have? ¡°If you don¡¯t know how to handle it, no one else will. I want you to speak with every commander of every garrison. Talk to them, give orders, do whatever you know best. If someone disobeys, send them to the dungeons without asking me. It¡¯s simple.¡±

    ¡°Queen?¡± The voice came from behind Valeris. It was Ivora¡¯s. Ivora had white hair and piercing blue eyes. Whenever Selen looked into her eyes, she felt a certain calm. Ivora¡¯s face never revealed what she was thinking. She was someone who could lie to you without you even realizing it, or make you give up your most precious possession willingly and without an army. Her mind was her army. If Valeris was strong, Ivora was twice as smart. Selen hadn¡¯t chosen them this way; it had all come together by chance, but she couldn¡¯t have hoped for better. Valeris stepped aside to make way for her second lady, and Ivora stepped forward.

    ¡°Yes, Ivora? What do you want to say?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to wait for King Severin first, then decide what to do?¡±

    Ivora slowly walked past Valeris and stood beside her. Only Thalia, her third lady, remained in the back, timid and quiet. Ivora continued:

    ¡°His army will remain on the main road, guarding. And I don¡¯t think the barbarians are bold enough to breach anyone¡¯s borders. They¡¯re just passing through.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure, Ivora. They¡¯re called barbarians for a reason.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve never attacked any of the kingdoms. Yes, they attack people from the kingdoms, but only if they cross their path. They¡¯ve never destroyed anyone¡¯s walls. Still,¡± Thalia spoke while taking deep breaths between words, ¡°let¡¯s see what the King of Volkar wants first, then decide, Queen.¡±

    ¡°He wants reinforcements, that much is clear. Otherwise, he wouldn¡¯t have come. No one comes to us unless they need something.¡± Valeris jumped back in.

    Thalia remained silent in the back.

    ¡°No, Valeris,¡± Ivora stepped forward and stood between her and Selen. ¡°If he wanted reinforcements, he would have sent a letter and not changed his course. Instead, he¡¯s entering our lands. He has something else in mind.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll wait for him and welcome him properly. But I still want the armies ready. Without Eliana. She¡¯s too valuable to risk her in battles with barbarians. Make sure she has everything she wants. We have other girls for fighting barbarians.¡±

    ¡°Eliana is already well-prepared,¡± Valeris was irritated. ¡°She just needs to stay in shape. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll take care of it personally. Her skills are equal to at least fifty of the barbarians.¡±

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    ¡°Only fifty?¡±

    ¡°Well, she¡¯s not a goddess. And some of the barbarians have good fighters too. I wonder if Severin has sent Tristan down the main road. It would be interesting to see his warrior.¡±

    ¡°Impossible. No one would risk their warrior in battles against those scum. I don¡¯t believe it. I don¡¯t even think there are more than two troops of fifty to a hundred men. I¡¯d bet on it.¡±

    ¡°He won last time with fewer. Volkar dealt them significant losses. It¡¯s strange how these vagrants have found more people again. They multiply like rabbits.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Valeris, these are interesting questions. What¡¯s also interesting is how they found more people and weapons?¡±

    ¡°You can be sure, Queen, that King Severin is wondering the same. And he¡¯s determined to finish them off this time.¡±

    ¡°Ivora is right. We¡¯ll wait for King Severin first and see what his requests are. Then we¡¯ll take bolder steps.¡±

    Selen listened to them, but her eyes were on Thalia. The quietest but most beautiful of the three, as always, stood in the back, shy and silent. She played this game every time. But to be honest, Selen expected nothing less from her. Ivora and Valeris were the more assertive ones, more eager to please her. Yet it was Thalia¡ªdark-haired, petite, with large brown eyes under bags that made it seem like she never slept¡ªthat she liked the most. But they were just part of her face, always present since she¡¯d known her.

    ¡°Valeris?¡± Valeris raised her head and stood at attention like a soldier. It was a habit. ¡°Go to the commanders and speak with them. I want to know how many troops we can spare for Severin if needed when he arrives. That¡¯s surely one of his requests, and I want to be prepared.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Queen. And Eliana?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with her personally. But try to find quality opponents for her. If you must, look outside the kingdom. They could be men, giants, or forest mutants. They could even be prisoners, and if you want, I can get some from Thorn, though I¡¯m not sure how easy that will be. She needs to be prepared for anything. We don¡¯t know much about the other kingdoms. Actually,¡± Selen raised one hand, ¡°do we have people in the other kingdoms?¡±

    ¡°People?¡± She saw in her eyes that Valeris didn¡¯t understand her. ¡°We have both women and men who have traveled to other lands, as well as those who have returned.¡±

    ¡°No, no,¡± Selen lowered her voice and whispered, ¡°People working for us. Our ears and eyes. Come on, Valeris, don¡¯t tell me you haven¡¯t thought of this. Even here, there are surely those who spy for other places. These are normal things. So, my question stands.¡±

    ¡°We have warriors in training, and we have those who train across our lands. In the major kingdoms, they¡¯re mostly traders and peasants. But people who eavesdrop? I don¡¯t think that¡¯s my job, Queen. I¡¯ve never done it.¡±

    Selen looked at Ivora, who clasped her hands together, smiling like a child. Selen understood the look. Sometimes, she was frightened by Ivora¡¯s calmness and indifference in any conversation. But she always had an answer and was always ready. Ivora stepped forward and moved Valeris aside. She already knew they had spies without Selen having to say it. Selen could tell just by the pleasure Ivora felt when she stepped forward.

    ¡°If I may, Queen?¡±

    ¡°You have something to tell me?¡±

    ¡°Actually, yes, Queen. We have people in Volkar, Solis, and Shilan.¡±

    Selen looked up.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. And Blackwall and Ishold?¡±

    ¡°In Ishold, it¡¯s almost impossible. Even the locals aren¡¯t allowed to travel south, let alone outsiders entering. The only free route is to the east, toward Eagle Bridge. But the bridge is the boundary of the western kingdoms anyway.¡±

    ¡°Yes. And Blackwall?¡±

    Ivora hesitated. The answer weighed on her, or she didn¡¯t want to give it. Finally, she raised her head.

    ¡°My man there¡­¡±

    She blushed and looked away.

    ¡°Ivora, what happened?¡± Selen¡¯s curiosity grew. She wanted to know more than anything now.

    ¡°Queen, I broke one of the rules.¡± She wasn¡¯t crying. She was more ashamed.

    ¡°You shared a bed with him?¡±

    ¡°I had to.¡±

    ¡°And he left?¡±

    ¡°It was long ago. But he suddenly disappeared. I¡¯ll probably never hear from him again.¡±

    ¡°The singer?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t looked for her in a long time. Should I?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer. She just shrugged. She liked to let them think for themselves. Sometimes it annoyed them. She wanted them to know what she was thinking. Ivora shamefully stepped back. Now Valeris was pleased.

    She was jealous of them. Jealous of all three. She knew it was almost impossible for all three to always be by her side without meeting other men, but at moments like this, she had to endure it. Jealousy was a sign of weakness. She couldn¡¯t let it show. And she had taught them to do whatever it took to win in the end. As women, they had something that always undermined male strength.

    Selen turned back to Ivora.

    ¡°And since so much time has passed, didn¡¯t you seek out another?¡±

    ¡°They all want the same thing.¡±

    ¡°Give it to them, Ivora! Give it to them!¡± She must have shouted because even Ivora was surprised. Selen continued, ¡°Yes, I know I¡¯ve forbidden you from sleeping with anyone in the staff here or anyone below your station. I¡¯m at the top of the chain. You¡¯re next. And no one beneath you deserves to have you. But for such matters¡­¡±

    ¡°But he was just a simple sheepskin trader.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s for some task, that¡¯s not a problem. Yes, he¡¯s below you, but he would have done the job. Haven¡¯t you done it before?¡±

    Ivora blushed again. She was the smartest of Selen¡¯s ladies and did everything with a purpose. Selen didn¡¯t doubt that this too was part of her plan to more easily admit it.

    ¡°No matter. If he ever dares to return, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll regret deceiving you. Now, find the singer again.¡±

    Tears flowed from Ivora¡¯s eyes. She was playing her theater again. Selen knew it but decided to play along with her rules.

    ¡°Don¡¯t cry, Ivora,¡± she tried to use the kindest tone she could and hugged her second lady. Ivora wiped her eyes, sniffed a few times to make it seem more believable, and stepped back.

    ¡°I will make it up to you, Queen. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Of course, you¡¯ll make it up to me,¡± Selen stroked her hair and hugged her. ¡°I want you to keep doing everything the same way. You¡¯re doing well.¡± Selen lifted her chin and kissed her on the lips, lingering there. She knew it irritated the others, but she also knew it was what Ivora wanted. Then she stepped back from her. ¡°Go to Fenris, Ivora. Then warn Nerissa that she should expect a visit these days. She knows why.¡±

    ¡°The lady from the brothel?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Nerissa. Did I say something unclear?¡±

    ¡°No, Queen. I¡¯ll go today.¡±

    ¡°And iron your dress. The hem is wrinkled. I think I saw a stain on it too.¡±

    Ivora instinctively looked down, dusted herself off as if that would do anything, bowed several times, and backed out. Then she left.

    Thalia was third. Petite, beautiful, and always dressed in white. Her black hair flowed past her shoulders, blending with the black trim on the white dress she wore today and loved to wear. The dress was deeply cut in the middle, and though her breasts were small, the fabric managed to show off the most attractive part of them, which drew in all the men. And her.

    Slowly, with a doe-eyed look, Thalia gazed into Selen¡¯s eyes. As always, they were moist, as if the girl had just been crying. She looked sweet and pursed her thin lips. She didn¡¯t play like Ivora. She was simply like that, naturally kind. Selen liked each of them. Each had their own character. From the kindest like Thalia to the fiercest like Valeris. But all three had good in them. But not all three had evil. Thalia harbored no evil. Selen had never heard her raise her voice. And when she gave her orders, she feared disturbing her, even though Thalia had quite a few responsibilities. Just as she did now.

    ¡°Thalia?¡± Selen spoke gently. ¡°You probably know your part?¡±

    ¡°The rooms, the guests¡¯ beds, the kitchen, the stewards, and the table.¡± Her voice was soft and slightly squeaky.

    ¡°Well done, Thalia. Also, have the seamstresses make a few dresses. We don¡¯t know if Severin is coming alone or with his women. I want new dresses for the ladies from the brothel too. They can¡¯t look shabby when they¡¯re visited by such guests.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Selen.¡±

    ¡°And please, smile more. You¡¯re beautiful, Thalia. With those big eyes, that lovely face¡­ it¡¯s a shame you don¡¯t smile more.¡±

    Thalia blinked.

    ¡°Smile, Thalia.¡± Selen placed her hand under her chin.

    Thalia slowly stretched her lips into a smile. Her eyes opened. She was beautiful and innocent. Selen let go of her chin and turned away.

    ¡°Did you understand your tasks, Thalia?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Queen.¡± She heard her soft voice.

    ¡°Now go. And don¡¯t let the kitchen fatties boss you around. You¡¯re the queen there. The same goes for the women on the floors. They should bow when you enter and treat you with respect as if I¡¯m entering.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Selen.¡±

    Selen turned. Thalia had called her by name, knowing it was forbidden. She knew why she did it. She was deliberately teasing her. As innocent as Thalia was, she knew how to get under her skin. She was only allowed to call her that at night when they were alone when they sometimes quenched their every carnal thirst.

    She raised her hand and made the same gesture she had used with Valeris, dismissing Thalia.

    Now that it was quiet, she could enjoy the morning and be with herself. She rested her arms on the windowsill, and before her lay the beautiful Meihar. From the top of her tower, jasmine vines cascaded down the walls, all the way to the base. There was the throne room, which she didn¡¯t like to visit and always avoided. It held memories of her mother. Two lightly clad, red-haired women with spears stood guard before the kingdom. And right before their eyes stretched the stalls of the locals. Each vendor fought to place their goods as close to the castle as possible, hoping their wares would be liked the most. Especially by her. Sometimes, at one of the stalls, there would be a beautiful young girl who caught Selen¡¯s eye more than the goods displayed before her, and the queen would stop, slowly choosing while eyeing the girl. The girl, with mixed feelings of surprise and fear, would barely stammer and measure each word carefully. The ladies-in-waiting always accompanied the queen and knew what to do. After such days, the poor girl always ended up in her bed.

 Bayar

    Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one.

    Eighty-one.

    That was the number of candles in the second corridor on the right side of the kingdom, where the empty rooms were. Bayar had a key for each of them, but he avoided entering. Each room was meant for guests of the kingdom, although such guests rarely came, and he couldn''t even remember any since he had been there. He had found the keys after a chambermaid lost them. They searched the kingdom for two days before giving up and making her new ones. This was how Bayar acquired them, though he had never tried them. He also didn''t know which key was for which door.

    Bayar enjoyed walking through the corridors, and that''s what he was doing now. He walked slowly, trying to memorize every corner, as She had advised him. She wanted him to remember everything and to keep an eye on everything in the palace, so he could tell her later. Sometimes, She watched herself, but not now. He sensed that She wasn''t seeing. He was alone.

    At first, he didn''t understand why he should do it. Counting and remembering insignificant things was boring, but later he understood. It wasn''t that the number of candles would help with anything, but it was a way to train his memory. She had advised him of that too. She wanted him to exercise his mind every day, and the easiest way was to remember random things. That''s why he counted the candles. The previous day, he had sat at the entrance of the kingdom, perched on a stone, counting everyone who entered and exited. To make it more interesting, he memorized the hair color of each person who passed, and by the end of the day, he tried to arrange them in his mind by number, starting with the most common and ending with the least. The smallest count was often white-haired or red-haired people. The white-haired ones were mostly the elderly, who barely entered. One of the white-haired ones was Ivora¡ªone of the queen''s ladies. Bayar liked Ivora, even though she didn''t always pay him much attention. She knew him, but the only times she acknowledged him were with a casual smile, one she showed everyone. The women here didn''t like men much and kept their distance from them. That was how it was in Meihar. He was lucky they had even let him stay.

    "Hey, boy." Someone was in front of him, but he couldn''t see them in the darkness. It was an old woman''s voice. "What are you doing here? Don''t you know that...?" The voice suddenly stopped. "Ah, Bayar, it''s you?"

    He recognized her. Irrit was one of the kingdom''s chambermaids, now walking down the corridor with a few white satin sheets under her arm. Irrit was old, older than his mother. His mother didn''t like her, thinking she was a woman who always tried to curry favor with the queens and come out on top among the other chambermaids. Even though his mother wasn''t a chambermaid, she knew Irrit and always said she was "no good." That''s how his mother put it.

    "Good evening, Irrit. Are you preparing the rooms? Are we expecting guests?"

    "You certainly won''t have any guests, boy, but the kingdom will. And why do you ask? Have you been in the rooms?"

    "Not at all."

    "Listen, Bayar, it would be best if you lay low for the next few days and didn''t wander the palace so much. The guests are important. Didn''t Lady Selen''s ladies tell you anything? Oh, God, what am I saying? Lady Selen''s ladies wouldn''t bother telling a peasant boy like you. Has your mother told you anything?"

    Irrit talked too much. Bayar didn''t like listening to her, but the news about the guests was interesting. Guests here? That hadn''t happened in a long time. The only people in the palace were the queen, her three ladies, the cooks, the chambermaids, and a few others who did various tasks around the castle. But guests?

    In fact, he now remembered the last time people from other places were here. He had been young, too young. There had been a boy he''d become friends with for a short time, but he couldn''t remember his name. He only remembered that when they found out Bayar was just the cook''s son, they took the boy away and scolded him. Then they kicked Bayar out. Even back then, he had realized there was a divide and he wasn''t welcome everywhere, even as a child. And the boy had turned out to be the son of someone important, a guest here. He didn''t remember who it was or the boy''s name.

    "Who''s coming?" Bayar clasped his hands behind his back, fingers intertwined, and tried to coax more information out of her.

    "I don''t know. Thalia is excited. You know, the smallest of the queen''s ladies. She tried to speak loudly and give us orders, but she was out of breath. I don''t know what the queen sees in her, but we have to obey." Irrit placed the sheets over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Can you imagine? That little thing, that tiny girl commanding us?" Irrit lowered her tone further. "But hush. We don''t talk like that about the queen''s ladies and the queen. You shouldn''t either."

    He knew who Thalia was without her telling him. He knew something about each of the queen''s ladies. In fact, Bayar knew many things about many people, but he only told Her. The one who sometimes saw through his eyes, and other times just waited for him at the end of the day. Then he would go, sit beside her, and tell her everything. And she would listen and give him advice.

    Irrit continued bustling down the kingdom''s corridor, and he followed her. He wanted to know everything she knew. And the chambermaids knew a lot. They were present at conversations that not everyone could be, pretending to be invisible, and then secretly discussing everything they had heard in the servants'' quarters. This continued until one of the noble women in the kingdom found out. It had happened before that women from the service were expelled from the kingdom, with punishments severe¡ªthough not death.

    "Do you know why they''re coming, Irrit?"

    "Don''t ask me such things. Even if I knew, I wouldn''t tell you."

    Irrit waved her hand, and the flame of the three candles, which were the fifty-second, fifty-third, and fifty-fourth in line, flickered. Bayar scanned the corridor to check if anyone was around. There wasn''t. Meanwhile, Irrit had started walking ahead.

    "Bayar, are you still here? You''re acting strange." Irrit pulled out a long iron rod from her skirt, which had several keys attached to it. "What are you looking at?" She looked around as well.

    "Nothing, just my thoughts." Bayar now looked at her. "I think you know something after all."

    "I don''t know anything, Bayar. Some royal figures, that''s all I know."

    "Anything else?"

    "You''re as stubborn as your mother. Why don''t you ask her? She has duties in the kingdom too."

    "I prefer to ask you."

    "Oh, fine." Irrit glanced around again. "Thalia said to prepare the beds mainly for men. Men in such a female-dominated kingdom, can you imagine? Let''s hope they behave. Just in case, I''m going to lock up my daughters while they''re here. There are enough brothels for them to go to."

    Actually, there was only one brothel. Bayar often went there, not for the services offered, but to gather information or memorize it¡ªagain, for Her, who sometimes watched through his eyes. He decided not to argue with Irrit, who stubbornly searched for the right key. His own set of keys was the same, and he knew by heart which key was for which room, but he didn''t reveal this. He wasn''t that foolish. He had memorized them by heart, and as he watched Irrit''s hands, he knew exactly which key she was looking for. But he didn''t tell her. If he showed that he knew the keys or had them, she would become suspicious of him. And as his mother often said, the chambermaids were like cats in the kingdom. They tried to poke their noses into everything, eavesdropped on everyone, acted nice to everyone, and when they got bored, they would "accidentally" break something or cause a scandal among the servants just to create a stir. Then they gossiped in the servants'' quarters all night, telling everyone everything. He didn''t trust them.

    "Bayar?" Irrit had just found the key to the room. "Do you know my two daughters?"

    The question surprised him. He knew them, though only vaguely. Irrit often brought them to the kingdom, hoping the queen or her advisors would notice them and take them in for work. In fact, everyone did that. In the kingdom, women were revered, and while men weren''t completely ostracized, they were trusted very little. He was one of the lucky ones who had stayed in the kingdom without causing problems. But as he grew older, more young women began to notice and speak to him, while the older ones looked at him with a mixture of disdain and surprise that he hadn''t been removed yet. But that would be hard to do. On one hand, his mother was the kingdom''s head cook; on the other hand, She protected him. And little was known about Her. Even fewer knew that he visited Her.

    Bayar nodded approvingly.

    "They''re pretty, aren''t they? They''re around your age. One was born just before you, the other after. Both want to be in the kingdom. I often bring them with me so they can see where I work. And I''m lucky to have two daughters in Meihar. Good thing they weren''t boys."

    Irrit didn''t stop talking. Sometimes, people like her made his head spin, and he didn''t want to listen, but then he remembered Her orders. He had to know everything¡ªfrom the history of the lowliest chambermaid to Selen''s plans. Even Irrit''s nonsense was important. And while it was difficult to get close to the queen, he learned everything from the chambermaids in the easiest way possible. If they weren''t gossiping, they found someone like him to listen to them.

    "Bayar, you''re not saying anything. What''s the matter?" Irrit looked around.

    "Sorry, Irrit. I was just thinking."

    "A word of advice, Bayar, my boy. It doesn''t matter that your mother is respected in the kitchen and among the castle staff. You''re growing up, and everyone sees that. Have you ever seen a young, handsome man in the castle? The only men here are the treasurer Fenris and the librarian Rath. Both are of advanced age. When they pass, others of their years will replace them. The queen keeps an eye on these things, so be careful."

    Irrit was right, but she underestimated him. Bayar knew and had thought about it. But he had Her support, and nothing would happen to him as long as She was down there. He saw the looks everyone in the palace gave him, even those of Irrit''s age, but he wasn''t impressed. She had also told him not to pay attention to them. Because he only had Her. And She would give him everything he deserved. He believed in her.

    "Now leave me alone, boy." Irrit suddenly changed her tone and almost chased him away. "I have work to do. And if they see me alone with you in these corridors, they might think something."

    Bayar didn''t even wait for Irrit to finish her explanation before turning and heading the other way. He practically sprinted down the corridor to the end, turned up the stairs, and took them one by one until he reached a new corridor. To the right was the throne room, where he had no business. His business was to the left, down another long corridor, straight ahead. The closer he got, the stronger the pleasant smells became, pulling him forward like a hook.

    The door to the large royal kitchen was wooden and unlocked. Bayar pushed it open with his elbow and entered. The kitchen was smoky. Three large women were forcefully bringing down heavy cleavers, splitting large bones with meat on them. The sound of the cleavers meeting the wooden tables echoed through the kitchen. Another woman was sorting vegetables in one corner, while one stood over the large boiling pots of water, stirring them with a big spoon and adding something to them at regular intervals. The steam hit her face, turning it red. This was Gaia¡ªhis mother.

    "Out!" shouted one of the large women with the cleaver. "Gaia, your son is here again. Do something to stop him from coming. He''ll cause trouble for us."

    His mother turned and saw him. She smiled at first, but then her expression changed. She strode over to him, grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around, and pushed him out.

    "What are you doing here? Why aren''t you outside or in the servants'' quarters?"

    "I was talking to Irrit; we''re expecting guests."

    "You were talking to Irrit? Oh, Bayar, you shouldn''t be wandering around the kingdom. You''ll cause me problems. You know how they look at men here. Are you hungry?"

    Bayar listened to her but looked past her. The smell from the kitchen distracted him. He was hungry. His mother tried to follow his gaze, looked back, and realized:

    "Wait here."

    The wooden door closed in front of him. Bayar looked back at the corridor. No one was passing by. The wooden door opened again, and his mother stood there, holding a piece of bread and some meat, dripping with water, fresh out of the big pot. It was chicken, and the juices had already mingled with various herbs and vegetables inside, giving it a heavenly aroma. At the first bite, his jaw stiffened, and saliva covered his entire hand. The bread beneath the meat melted so delightfully that the pleasure Bayar felt couldn''t even compare to the moments he was with Her. In fact, he was wrong. Only with Her did he feel better.

    He snapped out of his reverie and saw that his mother was gone. She had gone back into the kitchen. He decided not to disturb her and continued down the corridor.

    "Thalia?"

    He heard the voice first, then footsteps. He hid in a nook in the corridor. He was tall, but slender, making it easy for him to squeeze into tight spaces.

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    "Yes?" came the thin voice of one of the queen''s ladies. It was Thalia; he couldn''t mistake her.

    "What did the queen tell you?"

    "To prepare the servants. Nothing more."

    "Are you sure?"

    The other voice sounded heavier and more authoritative. Bayar was sure it was female, though at times it sounded almost masculine.

    "You always stay with her last. Be careful, Thalia," the voice paused briefly, then continued, "Don''t think that Queen Selen is yours. You have a pretty face. Be careful."

    "But I..." The small, black-haired girl couldn''t finish.

    "Go on with your business. And forget we met."

    Bayar waited until Thalia and her companion had parted ways. When it was quiet, he continued silently. Just before the throne room, he slipped under the staircase and descended into the dungeons. From there, he passed through two doors and entered the library. Rath Frost, the kingdom''s librarian, wasn''t there or was hiding in one of the corners again. Bayar wasn''t looking for him; he was looking for the third row, where the books on the kingdom''s history were kept. The third shelf of books was next to a door. The door was old, covered in dust, and unpainted for so many years that it had almost blended with the color of the wall, and few people would have noticed it. Bayar bent down and pressed it lightly.

    Before entering, he looked around. Rath was nowhere to be seen. He closed the door behind him.

    He found himself in a new room, significantly smaller than the library, but it also had books on either side of its corridor. In the distance was an old wooden desk. Before the desk was a chair, a chair that, instead of wooden legs, had iron wheels. And on the chair, with her back to him, sat a woman. The two candles in front of her blended with her red hair, making the flames look even larger. The woman stared ahead and downward at her desk.

    She didn''t turn or move.

    "I told you to come only at night, Bayar."

    Her voice made him feel better.

    He loved coming to Her.

    "Move me to the bed, Bayar."

    He approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She still hadn''t looked at him, yet she knew he was there. How did she do that? He had long since stopped asking such questions. Sometimes he wanted to ask her again, but then he refrained. Usually, she decided whether he should learn something new, and amazingly, she always chose the right moment to tell him. She had convinced him that she couldn''t read his thoughts, only see through his eyes, but he didn''t entirely believe her. How could you enter someone''s consciousness without reading their thoughts? At least that''s how Bayar imagined it.

    He stood up and grabbed the wooden chair with wheels, made just for her, pulling it back to free it from the desk.

    "No, Bayar. Carry me in your arms."

    At first, he was surprised, but then he bent down and slid his right arm under her paralyzed legs while supporting her back with his left. She was tall and very thin. She didn''t weigh more than the large dogs he sometimes had to fetch from the queen''s courtyard. He smelled her scent. Despite Jasmine always staying in this room and never going outside, she smelled lovely. She smelled of herbs. He didn''t know how she managed it, but as he carried her, he became intoxicated. Her eyes were slightly closed. She was about the same age as the queen or a little older, with the same features. She was beautiful, even though her time spent in the small room in the library had taken a toll on her.

    Her bed wasn''t far away. It was a wooden cot next to the stone wall with white linens that Bayar changed every few days with the help of librarian Rath. Rath also knew about Jasmine but kept quiet. Selen wanted him to keep quiet. The other person who knew about her was Bayar. But Selen probably didn''t know that Bayar came here. And it would be best if she didn''t find out, at least not yet.

    He laid her gently on the bed and stepped back.

    "Hand me the ring."

    On the desk where she had just been sitting, it gleamed. The ring. Bayar knew why she wanted it. The ring had engraved symbols, one of which resembled an eye. There was a story behind the ring, which Jasmine had once told him, but he remembered nothing of it. Now he regretted it because he knew it wasn''t nonsense as he had initially thought. Now he saw that it worked. And it worked on him.

    Jasmine took the ring in her hands and first held it in her palms. Her eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. Bayar had witnessed this before, and it wasn''t the most pleasant thing to do, but if Jasmine wanted it, he obeyed.

    "Wake me up if things go wrong."

    "How will I know if things go wrong?"

    "You''ll know. I''ll be telling you the whole time. Listen carefully and hold my other hand."

    Jasmine held the ring with her left hand, placing her right in his palms. She didn''t look at him, only up.

    He wasn''t sure if he imagined it, but it felt like some force passed through him. Then she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were white, her pupil shrunk to a tiny black dot.

    At first, nothing happened. Bayar held her hand, and she occasionally trembled. But then she did start to speak.

    "Hotol is holding something in his hands. I can''t see what it is, but I feel it''s light. To the touch, it''s the same as what King Severin took from them last time when he defeated them in the sandy valleys on their territory. The wild people had done nothing to him, and they didn''t expect it. That''s why they''re angry now. And they''re taking the only item they have left to the North."

    Bayar listened to her but understood almost nothing. He had heard about the wildlings from her, knew about items like her eye, but nothing else. But Jasmine knew. She knew a lot.

    "The hordes with Hotol are many, but not as many as last time. Yes, Severin killed many of them, but enough remained. They''re heading North. They must take at least this item there. But I can''t see it. I can''t see it. But I feel its power."

    Jasmine squeezed his hand. She was excited. Bayar didn''t know what to say or do. He just stood there, listening and holding her hand.

    "Hotol is the strongest of the tribe. There are always at least two women around him. But now there are four. Three of them are young and carry a cushion. On the cushion is the next item. The gift! The women aren''t warriors like them, but they''re beautiful. All the wild women are beautiful. They help them and fight well, but they''re not strong enough to fight, though sometimes there are such women."

    Honestly, Bayar had no idea what Jasmine was talking about. Who were these names, and where were they going? Yes, they were probably wildlings, but did she see them now, or was she seeing their future? That he didn''t understand. He doubted she would tell him even when she woke up. She wasn''t like that; she didn''t share much, even with him. Sometimes he felt she was just using him.

    "The tribe is marching slowly. They crossed the sand and are now stepping onto more fertile land. They passed over the last remaining bridge. Severin burned the others, but the non-fighting members of the tribes had already started rebuilding the destroyed ones. Solis passed easily. Ajax didn''t stop them. He didn''t even try. They expected to pass easily, but not that easily. They knew that first king wasn''t very serious and drank a lot. His people followed suit and became the same. But they were worried about the second one. Because she was a woman. It was Selen."

    Jasmine woke up. Her pupils returned to their normal size, and the ring was no longer in her hand. She had dropped it on the bed.

    "Did you hear everything?"

    "Yes, but I didn''t understand much. Were those wildling tribes?"

    Jasmine didn''t answer him. Naturally, he didn''t expect anything else. But he knew that was it. And Hotol was a wildling name. There were no such names in Meihar or the northern kingdoms.

    "A new battle is coming. They''re heading North again."

    "A battle? Where?"

    "I don''t know, Bayar. You''ll have to find out. You''ll have to..." Jasmine didn''t finish. Bayar knew what she meant. She wanted to enter him again and see through his eyes. He didn''t like that, but he couldn''t refuse her. She couldn''t walk, but he still feared her.

    "They killed Randolf." Jasmine quickly changed the subject.

    "Randolf?"

    "The one who had the bone and lost it to Severin."

    "Hotol, Hurnak, Vortok, and Borvak. I saw them in Hotol''s memories. They surrounded Randolf and first chopped off his arms, then his legs. Finally, they left him alive in the hot sand without limbs. Four warriors remained. Now it''s Hotol''s turn."

    "They killed one of their own for some item?"

    "Not just any item. A divine item. An item similar to the ring." Jasmine picked it up again.

    "Didn''t you say you couldn''t read their minds, only see through their eyes?"

    "I can, Bayar, but not always. It''s hard. It''s hard to control these items. It takes a lot of strength, strength I don''t yet have."

    Jasmine spoke to him without looking at him. Bayar was used to her oddities. Sometimes he felt like her servant, but he knew he wasn''t. She needed legs, and he needed protection. They both gave each other what they needed. At least that''s how he saw it. Had she read his thoughts too? She had never told him if she did.

    "I want water."

    Bayar brought her some.

    Jasmine propped herself up with both hands on the bed. She dipped her fingers in the water, moistened them, and rubbed them over her eyes. Then she ran wet fingers over her lips. She didn''t drink the water. She waited for the drops to sink deeply into her lips, then lay back down again.

    "Is it light outside, Bayar?"

    "No."

    "You know, I went back."

    Bayar waited, not responding. He waited for her to continue.

    "Between my passage into another''s eyes, I always go back. It happens quickly, almost instantly. And it happened again. We were little. My sister was sitting at the table, playing with one of her favorite dolls made of goose feathers. Our mother''s ladies often made such dolls for her. I was there, but I didn''t have such a doll. They never made such things for me. I couldn''t even go outside to play with the children. I just sat and watched my sister run around the throne room while the ladies cheered her on. No one came to me. Only Clar came to me. Clar was one of our mother''s oldest ladies. But she passed away soon after that."

    "And?"

    "That''s it. Then I moved on to the wildling."

    The wildlings. That''s what it was. He had known, but he hadn''t been sure. However, he didn''t know why she was telling him about her memory. There was no logic in it. Not that the other things had any. Often, when he was with her, he didn''t understand much. But that was normal.

    "Did anyone see you on your way?"

    "There''s no one. Only Rath is here."

    "Did he see you?"

    "He knows I come. He wouldn''t tell anyone."

    "Bayar! He knows you come, but if he sees you here every day, he''ll become suspicious."

    "Suspicious of what? I bring you food. Only I, Rath, and the queen know you''re here."

    "Fenris too."

    "Fenris?"

    "Think, Bayar, wouldn''t you tell your brother? Especially if your brother is the librarian."

    "Even if that''s true, there''s nothing to worry about."

    "Is there anything new in the kingdom? Anything you haven''t told me?"

    "I thought you could see for yourself. You know..."

    "No." She stopped him. "I haven''t looked through your eyes in a while. And I usually tell you."

    That was true. She always told him. But he had sensed her a few times. Or so he thought.

    "The chambermaids have been scurrying around the corridors. I think we''re expecting guests."

    "Guests? From another kingdom?"

    "Yes. Someone from the North. I also heard something about wildlings, but I don''t know."

    As he said it, he realized. Everything fit. The wildlings Jasmine had seen traveling on the main road, and Severin coming down. Yes, that''s it. They were on the move again. Jasmine had said it, but he hadn''t understood. Now this visit made perfect sense in the story. Surely King Severin would ask for men and go south with them. He probably wasn''t coming for anything else. Now he had to find out what Hotol looked like and whether Jasmine could still see through him. And now she was looking at him. For the first time since he had arrived, she wasn''t looking at the ceiling but at him.

    "Bayar? Did Lady Selen meet with her three ladies?" Jasmine continued her questioning.

    "I don''t know. But I heard Thalia, the smallest one, talking to someone in the corridors."

    "Did they see you?"

    "No. I was hidden in the dark. The person she was talking to threatened her."

    "Who was it?"

    "That I don''t know either. The voice sounded female, but it was quite rough. The person warned Thalia not to be too close to Lady Selen. Thalia said nothing in response." Bayar continued. "I waited until the other person left, and they parted ways."

    "And you?"

    "I left when I was sure there was no one in the corridors."

    Jasmine studied his frightened face as if she were examining him. Or perhaps she was trying to enter him again. No, that wasn''t possible. The ring with the eye wasn''t in her hand. And besides, he was here; it wouldn''t make sense for her to do it now.

    "Look at me, Bayar."

    He was already looking at her.

    "How was Thalia dressed?"

    The question surprised him.

    "T... Is that so important?"

    "It is, Bayar. I want your mind to be precise. You listened to them, but your eyes also worked without you giving them importance. I want to hear what they remembered."

    Bayar looked away. She would know if he was lying. She knew him well. Eighty-two candles, thirteen doors, and only one with a different-colored lock. And the chambermaid Irrit. She was wearing a yellow dress and a white apron. Thalia?

    "A white dress."

    He remembered, though it was obvious.

    "That''s clear. She always wears white. The trim?"

    "Blue. No... Black. They were black. They ran down the sides of her sleeves."

    Bayar got excited and almost stood up.

    "How was her hair tied?"

    "Normally, in a knot with a ribbon."

    "Color?"

    "Black."

    "Bayar?" She loved calling him by name and genuinely enjoyed each time he flinched when he heard it. "Have you ever had visions?"

    "No." What kind of question was that?

    "I''ve had one. Just once."

    "Something with the ring?" Bayar looked for it.

    "No. Long before I had it. I received it the same day I lost the ability to walk."

    Bayar had never heard this story, though he had always wanted to ask.

    "H-How?"

    "A childhood game. Me, my sister, and two boys in the kingdom''s courtyard. The boys were sons of the servants... Like you." She looked at him, apparently interested in whether he would be offended. He wasn''t. "And in the game, one of them hit me with a large stick on the back."

    "And then...?"

    "Yes." She pointed to her legs. "Since then, I haven''t been able to walk. But as I fell, I saw something I still can''t understand."

    Bayar said nothing. He just looked at her.

    "I saw my sister''s death. Selen''s death."

 Ion

    He heard his name and felt a warm, smooth hand brushing across his face. It was comforting. The distant sound of children''s laughter made everything even more pleasant. He felt at home. He felt at peace.

    "Jon."

    He heard his name again, and the voice that called it was familiar. Fiona. It was Fiona. He could hear her voice. She was somewhere close to him. And little Brion was laughing nearby. They were there. They were alive. They were with him.

    Jon reached out to grasp her hand. He longed to touch her again, to feel her soft skin and warm embrace. And whenever he heard little Brion''s voice, something inside him stirred, bringing a smile to his face.

    He hadn''t smiled in such a long time.

    Cold. That''s what Jon felt.

    Fiona and Brion were only in his mind, and the last memories he had of them were of burying them deep in the earth.

    Were they cold now? Probably not. Their bodies were surely long decomposed by now. But he felt cold. He felt the cold in his heart, a coldness brought on by the constant dreams of them.

    Sometimes he only dreamed of Fiona, and other times only of Brion. He cherished the dreams where they both appeared; those were the only moments when he felt even a fleeting warmth, just enough to warm him.

    Then the cold would return.

    Beyond the cold, he also felt moisture, as if drops of water were trickling down his face, just like when he had buried them. He buried them deep in the earth, where their dead bodies would become one with the Earth. In the same way, then as now, drops washed over his face, running down to his lips and dripping downwards. Back then, they mixed with his tears as they fell into the earth.

    But that was before.

    He opened his eyes abruptly and wiped his face with his hand.

    "Hey, pale-eyes, are you alive?"

    Brion and Fiona were gone. Instead, a man''s voice called out to him, and the rain was still falling, this time on wooden planks. He lifted his hand and wiped his face again. It was pointless; the rain was heavy and quickly soaked his face once more. The man''s voice echoed again:

    "Hey, pale-eyes. I said get up."

    It took him a moment to remember where he was. There was water everywhere. Everywhere except the deck of the ship. And the sea around them had crushed them in its embrace. He couldn¡¯t see where the sea ended and the sky began.

    "If you pass out again, I swear I¡¯ll throw you overboard."

    Jon stood up. He knew what he had to do. Sometimes he would lose consciousness for a moment, but he was grateful because whenever he slept or fainted, he saw them. He saw their faces, and Fiona kissed him.

    "Damn this storm!" The man yelled again. This time, it wasn¡¯t directed at him, but it was because of him. "I can¡¯t handle this alone, pale-eyes. You better help, or I¡¯ll order them to put you back where they found you. And you¡¯ll never see another land except the one you were going to die on."

    Jon approached him and took the rope from his hands. He wasn¡¯t as strong as the other man, which was immediately evident. He had to struggle to keep his footing and prevent the rope from dragging him upward. And when he did, he had to grit his teeth to endure the pain. The rope wrapped around his palm seemed to crush every bone. It burned and hurt, but he had endured worse.

    The big man disappeared for a moment and then returned with something heavy, even for him. He was drenched and moved slowly. Water streamed down his beard, probably one of the few times it had been washed. The heavy object he carried, which looked like a bucket full of stones, slowed him down even more. Finally, he brought it over and nearly dropped it at Jon''s feet. For a moment, he stood, leaning his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

    This seemed to soften him a bit.

    "I thought you Thorns were stronger. You¡¯re barely standing."

    The big man, surprisingly or not, had all his teeth, but they were black. He definitely loved tobacco, especially chewing it. That¡¯s what Jon thought about him, ignoring the pain. The big man was right about one thing. Jon had seen and endured worse in Thorn.

    The man took the rope from him as if it were a thread. Well, he struggled too, but when he flexed his muscles, he quickly gained control over it. He pulled a bit more than he needed and tied it to the stones. He let it go slightly to make sure it would hold the sails and then slowly stood up. Now, he looked a bit more kindly.

    "It¡¯ll pass soon. This happens often here. There¡¯s some damned current. You must¡¯ve seen it on the way here."

    He had seen nothing on the way here. His mind was filled only with the dead bodies of his wife and child. Of Brion and Fiona. Nothing else.

    Well, sometimes he remembered the mangled face of the man he had caught bent and bloody over them. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it was him and still sometimes wondered, but he preferred to think that he had done the right thing. After all, it was Father Simon who had pointed him out. And priests don¡¯t lie.

    "You¡¯re the quietest of all the bastards below, I swear," the big man¡¯s voice echoed again. "And the sickest too. How many times have you fainted today? Two or three? Sometimes I wonder how people like you stay alive while the truly worthy ones die."

    "It¡¯s God¡¯s will," Jon said, meaning it.

    "Screw the gods. If you¡¯re still alive, it means they don¡¯t care. Tell me, pale-eyes¡­" The man had finished tying the last rope with Jon¡¯s help, and the ship turned slightly, making the storm a bit more bearable. "If a baby is born somewhere in our world today and dies two hours later, does it deserve to die?"

    "If God wills it¡­"

    "And at that same moment, your God," the big man interrupted again, "decides that you, a man who¡¯s killed someone, should be sent to prison. And not only that, but you get brought back." The big man spat at Jon¡¯s feet. "Don¡¯t answer. Screw your gods."

    "Kirr!"

    The big man turned. Someone was calling him.

    "He¡¯s a prisoner, not your friend."

    "I know that," Kirr snapped back. "The bastard passed out. Again."

    The one who called him waved dismissively.

    "Come with me." Kirr grabbed Jon by the collar of his tattered shirt and dragged him toward the cabins. He had been right. The storm had passed quickly, and the sun was starting to break through behind them.

    There weren¡¯t really any cabins. Everyone slept in the lower part of the ship, which was accessed through a hole in the deck. Kirr shoved Jon in first and followed right after. As he entered, he slammed the hatch shut, though it still let in water. But the water didn¡¯t stay inside; it flowed through various gaps and disappeared somewhere below. But it was dark. There were two or three candles, but they weren¡¯t enough to light the place.

    "Are you going to sit down on your own, or do I have to help you?"

    Jon waved his hand. Kirr probably didn¡¯t see it, but Jon had no intention of causing trouble. Not here. In fact, he never started trouble. But he always finished it. Just as he finished off that fool who killed his wife and child, only to later learn that he was just following orders. Jon didn¡¯t care about his orders. He remembered the pieces of his skull left on the rock. And beside him lay the still-unburied Brion and Fiona. In the rain. Three bodies in the rain. But he only buried his loved ones.

    Bast Kane, as Jon later learned the man was called, was left to rot in the rain. Maybe that¡¯s why they caught him. But when they did, Jon didn¡¯t care about anything anymore. He had gotten his revenge. But there were still others to blame. Guilty ones who, until recently, he thought would get away. But if God had kept him alive, it meant their time was coming too. He hadn¡¯t seen them, but he knew their names.

    "Is everyone down here, Kirr?" came the voice of the one who had called them earlier.

    "Screw your questions, Otto. Where would they run to? Out on the sea?" Kirr laughed loudly.

    "Maybe someone stayed up top, you idiot."

    "That¡¯s their problem. It¡¯s wet up there, getting cold, and it¡¯ll be dark soon. And there¡¯s no food."

    "When do you think we¡¯ll arrive, Kirr?" Otto wasn¡¯t taking the bait.

    "Morning. Maybe before the sun, but more likely a little after. Will he be waiting for us?"

    "We were supposed to be there two days ago."

    "Well, it¡¯s not my fault." Their argument continued, and the others, including Jon, listened quietly. "What was I supposed to do when you couldn¡¯t pick out the bastards from Thorn faster? I thought you¡¯d be ready when I arrived."

    "We had some problems. No one will blame you, Kirr. You¡¯re just the boatman."

    "Sure. You don¡¯t know Ben Knox. Not only will he cut my pay, but he¡¯ll also chew me out in front of everyone."

    "If he cuts your pay, I¡¯ll give you some of mine. But I know Ben Knox. And I know him better than you do. Leave him to me."

    "It¡¯s always you, you, you. You¡¯re raking in the money with Ben, and I¡¯m stuck on this rotten ship, ferrying freaks like these."

    "I¡¯d advise you to watch your mouth, Kirr. Thorn isn¡¯t a place for the polite and kind."

    "As long as the ship¡¯s on the waves, they can¡¯t do anything to me. And they know that¡¯s just how I am, Otto. I¡¯m just talking."

    No one else spoke. And there were quite a few of them. Besides Jon, there were five others he recognized by face, but he didn¡¯t know their names. He only knew one of them¡ªEdgar. Edgar Flint. They had talked a few times.

    And then there was Renald, who was leaning against him.

    "That one over there looks like a woman," Renald nudged him slightly, pointing to someone leaning on the other side of the cabin.

    Meanwhile, Kirr and Otto were arguing again, this time over whether to cook beans or boil ten potatoes to feed them.

    "A woman? I don¡¯t believe it. They wouldn¡¯t take the risk."

    "I¡¯m telling you, Jon. That¡¯s a woman." Renald continued pointing. Suddenly, he stopped and changed the subject. "You talk about God a lot. Do you really believe in God, Jon?"

    It was starting to wear on him. Kirr had talked about God, and now Renald. But Renald was one of the people he got along with best. He was older than Jon, probably past forty, with white in his beard starting to overtake the rest, and his face looked tormented, the wrinkles beginning to carve holes into it.

    "I believe," Jon finally replied.

    "In which God?"

    "It doesn¡¯t matter which. I just believe."

    "So when this God created man and woman, do you think he divided their responsibilities or their character? Did he say, ¡®This is a man; he¡¯ll be a rapist, and this is a woman; she¡¯ll be the one raped¡¯?"

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Jon had never thought of it that way, nor did it concern him. Renald could be annoying sometimes. Like now.

    "There was a women¡¯s wing in Thorn. Naturally, they weren¡¯t stupid enough to mix men and women. Although the women were still guarded by men."

    "Our guards were eunuchs."

    "Probably theirs too. But desires are desires, whether you¡¯ve got the parts or not."

    "How long were you in Thorn, Renald?"

    "If it¡¯s late summer now, then almost a year. I wasn¡¯t as lucky as you. You got in the other day and are already out. But you believe in God, so maybe that¡¯s why."

    "It was cold when I went in. Winter was just ending."

    "So it¡¯s still less than me. You didn¡¯t get to see Thorn in all its glory."

    "Probably because I believe in God."

    Renald laughed.

    "Do you know what happens if you stay too long in Thorn, and neither Otto takes you out nor do they find you a job there? Or if you don¡¯t escape somehow?"

    "They probably just kill you."

    "Killing you would be too stupid. They¡¯d have spent a lot of coins feeding and watering you."

    "Food? I doubt they even spent half a black coin on me."

    "It¡¯s much more profitable for them to sell you as a slave."

    "A slave? You mean like us now?"

    "They¡¯ll give us weapons. Have you ever seen a slave with a weapon? They take slaves from the West and use them to feed their warriors."

    "I¡¯ve seen people eat people, but only when they¡¯re so hungry that there¡¯s nothing else left."

    "That¡¯s not what I meant, Jon. By ¡®feed,¡¯ I mean they pit them against their warriors. They buy ten prisoners who have no reason to live and throw them against their warriors. If the warrior wins, it¡¯s obvious¡ªdeath. But if the prisoner wins¡­"

    "Which probably never happens."

    "Maybe it has¡­ But if he wins, they set him free."

    "And then sooner or later, they end up back in Thorn." Jon knew all this. He just wanted to hear how Renald would tell it. And the time on the ship was dragging by too slowly.

    "They often come back."

    "They always come back," Jon added. "It¡¯s hard to kill for the first time. After that, it starts to become normal for you. And you¡¯ll kill again, and again. And imagine killing a warrior, Renald. You become so strong in your own eyes that you feel untouchable."

    "And the ship to Thorn is waiting for you." Renald leaned back. He hadn¡¯t closed his eyes. He was watching those across from them, who looked more tortured than anything.

    "Potatoes," Kirr¡¯s voice called out again. He was coming toward them. "That¡¯s what you¡¯ll eat. Everyone gets one. If you want more, work it out with the one next to you. I¡¯m not here to be your servant."

    Kirr bent down and placed a hot, flat piece of metal between them. On it rolled a dozen potatoes, which disappeared almost immediately. Like wild animals, Jon and the other seven pounced on them. All that could be heard was the clattering of the tin and Kirr¡¯s laughter.

    "It¡¯s always fun watching you like this." He turned and pulled out another tin, slightly smaller. "Just so you see, I¡¯m not all bad. I¡¯ve got some drumsticks for you too. They¡¯re not chicken, nor pig, but I hope you¡¯ve had pigeon at least once in your life. If not, this will be your first time."

    The same thing happened. Kirr threw the tin on the floor in front of them, and though they were more cautious this time, several pairs of hands still snatched the meat in an instant. It tasted like chicken, and if Kirr hadn¡¯t told them what it was, Jon wouldn¡¯t have known.

    "Well, I¡¯ve got no more surprises. And I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re still hungry. Even if you wanted more, there¡¯s nothing left. I¡¯ve saved a dozen potatoes for tomorrow, but you won¡¯t be here tomorrow. Otto," Kirr turned back, "give me the keys."

    Otto stepped forward. He was shorter and smaller than Kirr. The only hair on his head was above his upper lip, where he had left a reddish mustache, though it had started to gray.

    "If I leave you unlocked tonight, will you behave?" Otto didn¡¯t hand over the keys.

    "Are you sure, Otto? This ship is all I¡¯ve got. I don¡¯t want any trouble."

    "They have no choice, and they¡¯ve got nowhere to go. They¡¯re either waiting to be killed in the West or will die in Thorn. Unless they steal the ship and sink themselves."

    Kirr didn¡¯t find it funny. He looked them over one by one. He probably couldn¡¯t see everyone, as the darkness had covered them completely where they were sitting.

    "That¡¯s on you, Otto."

    "I¡¯ve got this just in case," Otto pulled out a sword, which, for some reason, he looked at as if it were the finest blade ever made. It wasn¡¯t anything Jon hadn¡¯t seen before, or even what the guards in Thorn carried. "I named it Cornelis."

    "Cornelis?" Kirr turned to him. Apparently, he was hearing this for the first time too.

    "Yes. I named it after the first man I killed." Otto gazed at his sword and gently touched its blade. He was proud to have it.

    "And was he as ugly as the sword?"

    "Even uglier," Otto tried to stifle his laughter, but it mingled with Kirr¡¯s.

    "Listen up, bastards," Kirr often addressed them this way. "You¡¯d better get some sleep because tomorrow¡¯s going to be a tough day. I know you¡¯re hungry, but Ben Knox will feed you. There¡¯s plenty of food for everyone there. Well, you¡¯ll probably spend the rest of your time training and training until he finally decides to throw you into the fight. But at least you won¡¯t be in Thorn."

    "Have you heard of Ben Knox?"

    "Yes," Jon had heard, but not much.

    Even so, Renald seemed to have decided to tell him more.

    "Ben Knox was appointed by King Roland, the king of Blector. He was something like the commander of the entire army. And then, when the king¡¯s son¡ªGarrick¡ªdecided to usurp the throne, he sent him to Thorn."

    "I didn¡¯t see him in Thorn."

    "Neither did I," Renald quickly replied, as if he knew what Jon would say, and continued. "But when Garrick came, he decided that Blector didn¡¯t need a commander of the army since they weren¡¯t at war with anyone. Blector already controlled the entire eastern part. But the Black Blades needed one."

    Jon knew this, but Renald¡¯s voice was calm and soothing. So soothing that Jon drifted off while listening.

    Strangely, this time he didn¡¯t dream of Fiona and Brion. He dreamed of Bast Kane. The man he had killed for them. But this time, he didn¡¯t kill him. Bast smiled at him and said something Jon couldn¡¯t quite understand. And as he looked at his face, young and full of life, it suddenly shattered into pieces. Pieces Jon had seen even without dreaming, as he smashed the rock into his head.

    Kirr¡¯s voice woke him, mixed with the stronger rocking of the ship.

    "Bastards, get ready. Soon you¡¯ll meet your new master."

    Light was streaming through several cracks in the ship. The five across from him were awake. Two of them glared at him, while the other three rubbed their eyes. No one had moved all night. They were exactly where they had been when Jon had fallen asleep.

    "Wake your friend yourself before I do it for you." Kirr stood over him, speaking.

    Jon had forgotten about Renald. He turned and nudged him. At first, Renald didn¡¯t move. Jon thought he was dead. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time. He hadn¡¯t spent much time in Thorn, but long enough to see four people die beside him. The first time, he was afraid he¡¯d be accused of murder. But when he saw they simply came and threw the body off Thorn¡¯s high cliffs, he was calmer about the other three. He was even grateful that one of them died because he had been a miserable wretch. He smelled bad and sometimes behaved poorly, though he never raised a hand. Jon had wished for him to be gone, and he died. Later, Jon felt guilty, but he quickly forgot. His name was Wirt, and he had ended up in Thorn by mistake. But everyone there was there by mistake. And now, Wirt didn¡¯t matter anymore.

    Renald woke up, though with difficulty. He nearly jumped and was startled. He mumbled something incoherent, wiped the drool from his mouth, and looked around sleepily. Now, it was even more obvious that he was old. Not too old and not too frail, but still not full of life. But he was full of strength. Or at least that¡¯s what he managed to project.

    "Princesses," Kirr was good at coming up with names, "we don¡¯t have breakfast, but the shore is near. Wipe the dirt off yourselves and be ready to go up in a moment. I want you looking presentable."

    "What did you dream about, Jon?"

    Renald¡¯s question surprised him.

    "You were talking in your sleep. Muttering and cursing at someone. I didn¡¯t catch the name, but it was short."

    "I don¡¯t remember." Jon remembered the dream, though not as clearly as before. He often forgot them after waking up. But he had no intention of telling Renald about it.

    "Did you have children, Renald?"

    "Two," Renald answered quickly. "And I lost them both."

    "Did you tell them stories when they were little?"

    "Stories? I mostly told them the history of the world. And they listened with rapt attention."

    "How much of it do you know?"

    "Almost everything that¡¯s worth knowing, and even a little more. I can name all the victors in the great battles of the West without ever setting foot there."

    "And all that from books?"

    "From books, from travelers, from merchants. I loved to read. Then I ended up in Thorn."

    "Birdies? Aren¡¯t you getting up?" Kirr interrupted them again.

    They were the last ones in the short line. One by one, everyone climbed the ladder. And up in the light, Jon saw that the person they had been discussing last night was indeed a woman. Not that it mattered much, but it was the first thing that caught his attention. Then he saw the shore. The shore he had seen receding not too long ago.

    However, Edgar was crying. He was the other one Jon knew from Thorn. A short, swarthy man sent to Thorn because he had two wives. At least, that¡¯s what he claimed. According to people close to them, it was because the women were actually the sisters of some lord. Jon didn¡¯t believe either story. Edgar was ugly. Even the men avoided him. Jon couldn¡¯t imagine him with one woman, let alone two. But he fought like a beast. And his favorite thing was to fight with his bare hands.

    He had been in Thorn for two years. And he was crying because he was finally seeing the shore. But not the shore where the prison was. The shore of his homeland.

    "And don¡¯t embarrass me," Kirr yelled from behind them. No one else was likely to hear him. "I want Ben to be pleased. We¡¯re already late."

    Otto moved ahead of everyone, holding his Cornelis. The sword was indeed not much to look at, quite worn. But it had the letter "K" poorly engraved at the base of the blade. Otto held it as if they weren¡¯t arriving at friends but were about to fight those waiting on the shore. And a lot of people were waiting. It seemed like there were more and more of them.

    "Move back, Kirr."

    Strangely, the big captain of the ship obeyed. Otto stood at the front, with everyone else behind him. And no one spoke.

    It was early morning, and the dying fires on the shore had filled the air with the smell of ash and burnt wood. Two men dressed in black were pissing into the sea as if they didn¡¯t see the ship coming. In the distance, more people were sitting around. They were scattered along the beach, some still sleeping. Only a tall man stood at the front, dressed as if he were welcoming noble lords and princesses, not prisoners like them.

    Yes, Jon didn¡¯t consider himself anything special. He didn¡¯t think they would be greeted like this. And he was sure that everything would change soon.

    The ship bumped against the sand, causing everyone to jump to keep their balance. A ladder from the ship was lowered, and another from those below was placed against it. Otto was the first to descend.

    After Otto, they came down one by one.

    Kirr came down last. He cursed as he descended, moving slowly and carefully as if he had never gotten off a ship before. Which might have been somewhat true.

    "You¡¯re late."

    The man almost roared. His voice was so hoarse that it seemed to create waves around the ship.

    "They delayed us on the island," Kirr quickly justified himself.

    "Kirr isn¡¯t to blame, Ben," Otto defended him. "They really held us up there. They couldn¡¯t pick the people for us."

    "Is it that bad?"

    "No. They wanted to pick the best."

    "And is this the best?" Ben pointed his sword at their group, the blade stopping right on Jon. "If this is the best, you might as well return them or sink the ship halfway."

    "And what about the money?" Kirr couldn¡¯t hold back.

    "You¡¯re a day late, Kirr. What money?"

    "I told you," Kirr turned to Otto. Otto remained calm.

    "How much did I promise you, Kirr?" Ben spoke again.

    "Three black coins, and we¡¯re even."

    Ben reached into a deep pocket of what looked like a robe. Jon imagined him rummaging his fingers among the coins, and by their sound, he could tell there were at least ten. Ben pulled out his hand, holding four coins. He threw three to Kirr, one after the other. Two fell to the ground, but the fat captain didn¡¯t care. He quickly bent down and picked them up. The last one he handed to Otto.

    Otto bowed to him.

    "Do you still need me, Ben?"

    "No. Leave these to me. You might have more work soon. How are things there? Are there more?"

    "It¡¯s full, but I¡¯ve picked the best for you. The Westerners are taking quite a few for their own needs. I hear they¡¯ve got problems too."

    "I don¡¯t care about the Westerners. I pay more to both the prison and you. Send the rest to them. I want the best for me." He looked at them again. "And you¡¯d better have brought me the best."

    Kirr was already back on his ship. Surprisingly, he had climbed up quickly despite the effort it took him to get down. Otto had circled behind Ben and stood as if he had always been his man. But Ben was still looking at them. Specifically, at Jon.

    "You!" He pointed at Jon with his sword. "Stand here." He pointed to a spot.

    Jon stood.

    "From the looks of it, you¡¯re the tallest. I want everyone else to line up behind him by height. And all of you look at me."

    It didn¡¯t take them long to do so. And Ben was right. Jon was the tallest. Renald was right behind him. He didn¡¯t see the others. He didn¡¯t want to look that way. He felt a certain respect for Ben. He was exactly the kind of man Jon imagined could command a group like theirs.

    Ben turned his back on them, and another man stepped forward. He was smaller than Ben but looked at them more harshly. Ben remained, but further away. He was with Otto, talking.

    "Dogs," the new man began directly. "Ben is too soft with you. And to show you that this is serious, one of you needs to step forward."

    No one moved.

    "You never come forward on your own. Fine. I¡¯m not in the mood to wait. You!" He pointed at someone in the line. Jon only saw the back of the chosen one, who stepped forward hesitantly.

    "What¡¯s your name?"

    "James, sir."

    James bowed his head to show respect.

    And his head fell to the ground. His body crumpled beside it.

    "And by the way, my name is Rex." The man slowly wiped the blood from his sword. "And I needed six men, not seven."

 Ion

    He heard his name and felt a warm, smooth hand brushing across his face. It was comforting. The distant sound of children''s laughter made everything even more pleasant. He felt at home. He felt at peace.

    "Jon."

    He heard his name again, and the voice that called it was familiar. Fiona. It was Fiona. He could hear her voice. She was somewhere close to him. And little Brion was laughing nearby. They were there. They were alive. They were with him.

    Jon reached out to grasp her hand. He longed to touch her again, to feel her soft skin and warm embrace. And whenever he heard little Brion''s voice, something inside him stirred, bringing a smile to his face.

    He hadn''t smiled in such a long time.

    Cold. That''s what Jon felt.

    Fiona and Brion were only in his mind, and the last memories he had of them were of burying them deep in the earth.

    Were they cold now? Probably not. Their bodies were surely long decomposed by now. But he felt cold. He felt the cold in his heart, a coldness brought on by the constant dreams of them.

    Sometimes he only dreamed of Fiona, and other times only of Brion. He cherished the dreams where they both appeared; those were the only moments when he felt even a fleeting warmth, just enough to warm him.

    Then the cold would return.

    Beyond the cold, he also felt moisture, as if drops of water were trickling down his face, just like when he had buried them. He buried them deep in the earth, where their dead bodies would become one with the Earth. In the same way, then as now, drops washed over his face, running down to his lips and dripping downwards. Back then, they mixed with his tears as they fell into the earth.

    But that was before.

    He opened his eyes abruptly and wiped his face with his hand.

    "Hey, pale-eyes, are you alive?"

    Brion and Fiona were gone. Instead, a man''s voice called out to him, and the rain was still falling, this time on wooden planks. He lifted his hand and wiped his face again. It was pointless; the rain was heavy and quickly soaked his face once more. The man''s voice echoed again:

    "Hey, pale-eyes. I said get up."

    It took him a moment to remember where he was. There was water everywhere. Everywhere except the deck of the ship. And the sea around them had crushed them in its embrace. He couldn¡¯t see where the sea ended and the sky began.

    "If you pass out again, I swear I¡¯ll throw you overboard."

    Jon stood up. He knew what he had to do. Sometimes he would lose consciousness for a moment, but he was grateful because whenever he slept or fainted, he saw them. He saw their faces, and Fiona kissed him.

    "Damn this storm!" The man yelled again. This time, it wasn¡¯t directed at him, but it was because of him. "I can¡¯t handle this alone, pale-eyes. You better help, or I¡¯ll order them to put you back where they found you. And you¡¯ll never see another land except the one you were going to die on."

    Jon approached him and took the rope from his hands. He wasn¡¯t as strong as the other man, which was immediately evident. He had to struggle to keep his footing and prevent the rope from dragging him upward. And when he did, he had to grit his teeth to endure the pain. The rope wrapped around his palm seemed to crush every bone. It burned and hurt, but he had endured worse.

    The big man disappeared for a moment and then returned with something heavy, even for him. He was drenched and moved slowly. Water streamed down his beard, probably one of the few times it had been washed. The heavy object he carried, which looked like a bucket full of stones, slowed him down even more. Finally, he brought it over and nearly dropped it at Jon''s feet. For a moment, he stood, leaning his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

    This seemed to soften him a bit.

    "I thought you Thorns were stronger. You¡¯re barely standing."

    The big man, surprisingly or not, had all his teeth, but they were black. He definitely loved tobacco, especially chewing it. That¡¯s what Jon thought about him, ignoring the pain. The big man was right about one thing. Jon had seen and endured worse in Thorn.

    The man took the rope from him as if it were a thread. Well, he struggled too, but when he flexed his muscles, he quickly gained control over it. He pulled a bit more than he needed and tied it to the stones. He let it go slightly to make sure it would hold the sails and then slowly stood up. Now, he looked a bit more kindly.

    "It¡¯ll pass soon. This happens often here. There¡¯s some damned current. You must¡¯ve seen it on the way here."

    He had seen nothing on the way here. His mind was filled only with the dead bodies of his wife and child. Of Brion and Fiona. Nothing else.

    Well, sometimes he remembered the mangled face of the man he had caught bent and bloody over them. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it was him and still sometimes wondered, but he preferred to think that he had done the right thing. After all, it was Father Simon who had pointed him out. And priests don¡¯t lie.

    "You¡¯re the quietest of all the bastards below, I swear," the big man¡¯s voice echoed again. "And the sickest too. How many times have you fainted today? Two or three? Sometimes I wonder how people like you stay alive while the truly worthy ones die."

    "It¡¯s God¡¯s will," Jon said, meaning it.

    "Screw the gods. If you¡¯re still alive, it means they don¡¯t care. Tell me, pale-eyes¡­" The man had finished tying the last rope with Jon¡¯s help, and the ship turned slightly, making the storm a bit more bearable. "If a baby is born somewhere in our world today and dies two hours later, does it deserve to die?"

    "If God wills it¡­"

    "And at that same moment, your God," the big man interrupted again, "decides that you, a man who¡¯s killed someone, should be sent to prison. And not only that, but you get brought back." The big man spat at Jon¡¯s feet. "Don¡¯t answer. Screw your gods."

    "Kirr!"

    The big man turned. Someone was calling him.

    "He¡¯s a prisoner, not your friend."

    "I know that," Kirr snapped back. "The bastard passed out. Again."

    The one who called him waved dismissively.

    "Come with me." Kirr grabbed Jon by the collar of his tattered shirt and dragged him toward the cabins. He had been right. The storm had passed quickly, and the sun was starting to break through behind them.

    There weren¡¯t really any cabins. Everyone slept in the lower part of the ship, which was accessed through a hole in the deck. Kirr shoved Jon in first and followed right after. As he entered, he slammed the hatch shut, though it still let in water. But the water didn¡¯t stay inside; it flowed through various gaps and disappeared somewhere below. But it was dark. There were two or three candles, but they weren¡¯t enough to light the place.

    "Are you going to sit down on your own, or do I have to help you?"

    Jon waved his hand. Kirr probably didn¡¯t see it, but Jon had no intention of causing trouble. Not here. In fact, he never started trouble. But he always finished it. Just as he finished off that fool who killed his wife and child, only to later learn that he was just following orders. Jon didn¡¯t care about his orders. He remembered the pieces of his skull left on the rock. And beside him lay the still-unburied Brion and Fiona. In the rain. Three bodies in the rain. But he only buried his loved ones.

    Bast Kane, as Jon later learned the man was called, was left to rot in the rain. Maybe that¡¯s why they caught him. But when they did, Jon didn¡¯t care about anything anymore. He had gotten his revenge. But there were still others to blame. Guilty ones who, until recently, he thought would get away. But if God had kept him alive, it meant their time was coming too. He hadn¡¯t seen them, but he knew their names.

    "Is everyone down here, Kirr?" came the voice of the one who had called them earlier.

    "Screw your questions, Otto. Where would they run to? Out on the sea?" Kirr laughed loudly.

    "Maybe someone stayed up top, you idiot."

    "That¡¯s their problem. It¡¯s wet up there, getting cold, and it¡¯ll be dark soon. And there¡¯s no food."

    "When do you think we¡¯ll arrive, Kirr?" Otto wasn¡¯t taking the bait.

    "Morning. Maybe before the sun, but more likely a little after. Will he be waiting for us?"

    "We were supposed to be there two days ago."

    "Well, it¡¯s not my fault." Their argument continued, and the others, including Jon, listened quietly. "What was I supposed to do when you couldn¡¯t pick out the bastards from Thorn faster? I thought you¡¯d be ready when I arrived."

    "We had some problems. No one will blame you, Kirr. You¡¯re just the boatman."

    "Sure. You don¡¯t know Ben Knox. Not only will he cut my pay, but he¡¯ll also chew me out in front of everyone."

    "If he cuts your pay, I¡¯ll give you some of mine. But I know Ben Knox. And I know him better than you do. Leave him to me."

    "It¡¯s always you, you, you. You¡¯re raking in the money with Ben, and I¡¯m stuck on this rotten ship, ferrying freaks like these."

    "I¡¯d advise you to watch your mouth, Kirr. Thorn isn¡¯t a place for the polite and kind."

    "As long as the ship¡¯s on the waves, they can¡¯t do anything to me. And they know that¡¯s just how I am, Otto. I¡¯m just talking."

    No one else spoke. And there were quite a few of them. Besides Jon, there were five others he recognized by face, but he didn¡¯t know their names. He only knew one of them¡ªEdgar. Edgar Flint. They had talked a few times.

    And then there was Renald, who was leaning against him.

    "That one over there looks like a woman," Renald nudged him slightly, pointing to someone leaning on the other side of the cabin.

    Meanwhile, Kirr and Otto were arguing again, this time over whether to cook beans or boil ten potatoes to feed them.

    "A woman? I don¡¯t believe it. They wouldn¡¯t take the risk."

    "I¡¯m telling you, Jon. That¡¯s a woman." Renald continued pointing. Suddenly, he stopped and changed the subject. "You talk about God a lot. Do you really believe in God, Jon?"

    It was starting to wear on him. Kirr had talked about God, and now Renald. But Renald was one of the people he got along with best. He was older than Jon, probably past forty, with white in his beard starting to overtake the rest, and his face looked tormented, the wrinkles beginning to carve holes into it.

    "I believe," Jon finally replied.

    "In which God?"

    "It doesn¡¯t matter which. I just believe."

    "So when this God created man and woman, do you think he divided their responsibilities or their character? Did he say, ¡®This is a man; he¡¯ll be a rapist, and this is a woman; she¡¯ll be the one raped¡¯?"

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Jon had never thought of it that way, nor did it concern him. Renald could be annoying sometimes. Like now.

    "There was a women¡¯s wing in Thorn. Naturally, they weren¡¯t stupid enough to mix men and women. Although the women were still guarded by men."

    "Our guards were eunuchs."

    "Probably theirs too. But desires are desires, whether you¡¯ve got the parts or not."

    "How long were you in Thorn, Renald?"

    "If it¡¯s late summer now, then almost a year. I wasn¡¯t as lucky as you. You got in the other day and are already out. But you believe in God, so maybe that¡¯s why."

    "It was cold when I went in. Winter was just ending."

    "So it¡¯s still less than me. You didn¡¯t get to see Thorn in all its glory."

    "Probably because I believe in God."

    Renald laughed.

    "Do you know what happens if you stay too long in Thorn, and neither Otto takes you out nor do they find you a job there? Or if you don¡¯t escape somehow?"

    "They probably just kill you."

    "Killing you would be too stupid. They¡¯d have spent a lot of coins feeding and watering you."

    "Food? I doubt they even spent half a black coin on me."

    "It¡¯s much more profitable for them to sell you as a slave."

    "A slave? You mean like us now?"

    "They¡¯ll give us weapons. Have you ever seen a slave with a weapon? They take slaves from the West and use them to feed their warriors."

    "I¡¯ve seen people eat people, but only when they¡¯re so hungry that there¡¯s nothing else left."

    "That¡¯s not what I meant, Jon. By ¡®feed,¡¯ I mean they pit them against their warriors. They buy ten prisoners who have no reason to live and throw them against their warriors. If the warrior wins, it¡¯s obvious¡ªdeath. But if the prisoner wins¡­"

    "Which probably never happens."

    "Maybe it has¡­ But if he wins, they set him free."

    "And then sooner or later, they end up back in Thorn." Jon knew all this. He just wanted to hear how Renald would tell it. And the time on the ship was dragging by too slowly.

    "They often come back."

    "They always come back," Jon added. "It¡¯s hard to kill for the first time. After that, it starts to become normal for you. And you¡¯ll kill again, and again. And imagine killing a warrior, Renald. You become so strong in your own eyes that you feel untouchable."

    "And the ship to Thorn is waiting for you." Renald leaned back. He hadn¡¯t closed his eyes. He was watching those across from them, who looked more tortured than anything.

    "Potatoes," Kirr¡¯s voice called out again. He was coming toward them. "That¡¯s what you¡¯ll eat. Everyone gets one. If you want more, work it out with the one next to you. I¡¯m not here to be your servant."

    Kirr bent down and placed a hot, flat piece of metal between them. On it rolled a dozen potatoes, which disappeared almost immediately. Like wild animals, Jon and the other seven pounced on them. All that could be heard was the clattering of the tin and Kirr¡¯s laughter.

    "It¡¯s always fun watching you like this." He turned and pulled out another tin, slightly smaller. "Just so you see, I¡¯m not all bad. I¡¯ve got some drumsticks for you too. They¡¯re not chicken, nor pig, but I hope you¡¯ve had pigeon at least once in your life. If not, this will be your first time."

    The same thing happened. Kirr threw the tin on the floor in front of them, and though they were more cautious this time, several pairs of hands still snatched the meat in an instant. It tasted like chicken, and if Kirr hadn¡¯t told them what it was, Jon wouldn¡¯t have known.

    "Well, I¡¯ve got no more surprises. And I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re still hungry. Even if you wanted more, there¡¯s nothing left. I¡¯ve saved a dozen potatoes for tomorrow, but you won¡¯t be here tomorrow. Otto," Kirr turned back, "give me the keys."

    Otto stepped forward. He was shorter and smaller than Kirr. The only hair on his head was above his upper lip, where he had left a reddish mustache, though it had started to gray.

    "If I leave you unlocked tonight, will you behave?" Otto didn¡¯t hand over the keys.

    "Are you sure, Otto? This ship is all I¡¯ve got. I don¡¯t want any trouble."

    "They have no choice, and they¡¯ve got nowhere to go. They¡¯re either waiting to be killed in the West or will die in Thorn. Unless they steal the ship and sink themselves."

    Kirr didn¡¯t find it funny. He looked them over one by one. He probably couldn¡¯t see everyone, as the darkness had covered them completely where they were sitting.

    "That¡¯s on you, Otto."

    "I¡¯ve got this just in case," Otto pulled out a sword, which, for some reason, he looked at as if it were the finest blade ever made. It wasn¡¯t anything Jon hadn¡¯t seen before, or even what the guards in Thorn carried. "I named it Cornelis."

    "Cornelis?" Kirr turned to him. Apparently, he was hearing this for the first time too.

    "Yes. I named it after the first man I killed." Otto gazed at his sword and gently touched its blade. He was proud to have it.

    "And was he as ugly as the sword?"

    "Even uglier," Otto tried to stifle his laughter, but it mingled with Kirr¡¯s.

    "Listen up, bastards," Kirr often addressed them this way. "You¡¯d better get some sleep because tomorrow¡¯s going to be a tough day. I know you¡¯re hungry, but Ben Knox will feed you. There¡¯s plenty of food for everyone there. Well, you¡¯ll probably spend the rest of your time training and training until he finally decides to throw you into the fight. But at least you won¡¯t be in Thorn."

    "Have you heard of Ben Knox?"

    "Yes," Jon had heard, but not much.

    Even so, Renald seemed to have decided to tell him more.

    "Ben Knox was appointed by King Roland, the king of Blector. He was something like the commander of the entire army. And then, when the king¡¯s son¡ªGarrick¡ªdecided to usurp the throne, he sent him to Thorn."

    "I didn¡¯t see him in Thorn."

    "Neither did I," Renald quickly replied, as if he knew what Jon would say, and continued. "But when Garrick came, he decided that Blector didn¡¯t need a commander of the army since they weren¡¯t at war with anyone. Blector already controlled the entire eastern part. But the Black Blades needed one."

    Jon knew this, but Renald¡¯s voice was calm and soothing. So soothing that Jon drifted off while listening.

    Strangely, this time he didn¡¯t dream of Fiona and Brion. He dreamed of Bast Kane. The man he had killed for them. But this time, he didn¡¯t kill him. Bast smiled at him and said something Jon couldn¡¯t quite understand. And as he looked at his face, young and full of life, it suddenly shattered into pieces. Pieces Jon had seen even without dreaming, as he smashed the rock into his head.

    Kirr¡¯s voice woke him, mixed with the stronger rocking of the ship.

    "Bastards, get ready. Soon you¡¯ll meet your new master."

    Light was streaming through several cracks in the ship. The five across from him were awake. Two of them glared at him, while the other three rubbed their eyes. No one had moved all night. They were exactly where they had been when Jon had fallen asleep.

    "Wake your friend yourself before I do it for you." Kirr stood over him, speaking.

    Jon had forgotten about Renald. He turned and nudged him. At first, Renald didn¡¯t move. Jon thought he was dead. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time. He hadn¡¯t spent much time in Thorn, but long enough to see four people die beside him. The first time, he was afraid he¡¯d be accused of murder. But when he saw they simply came and threw the body off Thorn¡¯s high cliffs, he was calmer about the other three. He was even grateful that one of them died because he had been a miserable wretch. He smelled bad and sometimes behaved poorly, though he never raised a hand. Jon had wished for him to be gone, and he died. Later, Jon felt guilty, but he quickly forgot. His name was Wirt, and he had ended up in Thorn by mistake. But everyone there was there by mistake. And now, Wirt didn¡¯t matter anymore.

    Renald woke up, though with difficulty. He nearly jumped and was startled. He mumbled something incoherent, wiped the drool from his mouth, and looked around sleepily. Now, it was even more obvious that he was old. Not too old and not too frail, but still not full of life. But he was full of strength. Or at least that¡¯s what he managed to project.

    "Princesses," Kirr was good at coming up with names, "we don¡¯t have breakfast, but the shore is near. Wipe the dirt off yourselves and be ready to go up in a moment. I want you looking presentable."

    "What did you dream about, Jon?"

    Renald¡¯s question surprised him.

    "You were talking in your sleep. Muttering and cursing at someone. I didn¡¯t catch the name, but it was short."

    "I don¡¯t remember." Jon remembered the dream, though not as clearly as before. He often forgot them after waking up. But he had no intention of telling Renald about it.

    "Did you have children, Renald?"

    "Two," Renald answered quickly. "And I lost them both."

    "Did you tell them stories when they were little?"

    "Stories? I mostly told them the history of the world. And they listened with rapt attention."

    "How much of it do you know?"

    "Almost everything that¡¯s worth knowing, and even a little more. I can name all the victors in the great battles of the West without ever setting foot there."

    "And all that from books?"

    "From books, from travelers, from merchants. I loved to read. Then I ended up in Thorn."

    "Birdies? Aren¡¯t you getting up?" Kirr interrupted them again.

    They were the last ones in the short line. One by one, everyone climbed the ladder. And up in the light, Jon saw that the person they had been discussing last night was indeed a woman. Not that it mattered much, but it was the first thing that caught his attention. Then he saw the shore. The shore he had seen receding not too long ago.

    However, Edgar was crying. He was the other one Jon knew from Thorn. A short, swarthy man sent to Thorn because he had two wives. At least, that¡¯s what he claimed. According to people close to them, it was because the women were actually the sisters of some lord. Jon didn¡¯t believe either story. Edgar was ugly. Even the men avoided him. Jon couldn¡¯t imagine him with one woman, let alone two. But he fought like a beast. And his favorite thing was to fight with his bare hands.

    He had been in Thorn for two years. And he was crying because he was finally seeing the shore. But not the shore where the prison was. The shore of his homeland.

    "And don¡¯t embarrass me," Kirr yelled from behind them. No one else was likely to hear him. "I want Ben to be pleased. We¡¯re already late."

    Otto moved ahead of everyone, holding his Cornelis. The sword was indeed not much to look at, quite worn. But it had the letter "K" poorly engraved at the base of the blade. Otto held it as if they weren¡¯t arriving at friends but were about to fight those waiting on the shore. And a lot of people were waiting. It seemed like there were more and more of them.

    "Move back, Kirr."

    Strangely, the big captain of the ship obeyed. Otto stood at the front, with everyone else behind him. And no one spoke.

    It was early morning, and the dying fires on the shore had filled the air with the smell of ash and burnt wood. Two men dressed in black were pissing into the sea as if they didn¡¯t see the ship coming. In the distance, more people were sitting around. They were scattered along the beach, some still sleeping. Only a tall man stood at the front, dressed as if he were welcoming noble lords and princesses, not prisoners like them.

    Yes, Jon didn¡¯t consider himself anything special. He didn¡¯t think they would be greeted like this. And he was sure that everything would change soon.

    The ship bumped against the sand, causing everyone to jump to keep their balance. A ladder from the ship was lowered, and another from those below was placed against it. Otto was the first to descend.

    After Otto, they came down one by one.

    Kirr came down last. He cursed as he descended, moving slowly and carefully as if he had never gotten off a ship before. Which might have been somewhat true.

    "You¡¯re late."

    The man almost roared. His voice was so hoarse that it seemed to create waves around the ship.

    "They delayed us on the island," Kirr quickly justified himself.

    "Kirr isn¡¯t to blame, Ben," Otto defended him. "They really held us up there. They couldn¡¯t pick the people for us."

    "Is it that bad?"

    "No. They wanted to pick the best."

    "And is this the best?" Ben pointed his sword at their group, the blade stopping right on Jon. "If this is the best, you might as well return them or sink the ship halfway."

    "And what about the money?" Kirr couldn¡¯t hold back.

    "You¡¯re a day late, Kirr. What money?"

    "I told you," Kirr turned to Otto. Otto remained calm.

    "How much did I promise you, Kirr?" Ben spoke again.

    "Three black coins, and we¡¯re even."

    Ben reached into a deep pocket of what looked like a robe. Jon imagined him rummaging his fingers among the coins, and by their sound, he could tell there were at least ten. Ben pulled out his hand, holding four coins. He threw three to Kirr, one after the other. Two fell to the ground, but the fat captain didn¡¯t care. He quickly bent down and picked them up. The last one he handed to Otto.

    Otto bowed to him.

    "Do you still need me, Ben?"

    "No. Leave these to me. You might have more work soon. How are things there? Are there more?"

    "It¡¯s full, but I¡¯ve picked the best for you. The Westerners are taking quite a few for their own needs. I hear they¡¯ve got problems too."

    "I don¡¯t care about the Westerners. I pay more to both the prison and you. Send the rest to them. I want the best for me." He looked at them again. "And you¡¯d better have brought me the best."

    Kirr was already back on his ship. Surprisingly, he had climbed up quickly despite the effort it took him to get down. Otto had circled behind Ben and stood as if he had always been his man. But Ben was still looking at them. Specifically, at Jon.

    "You!" He pointed at Jon with his sword. "Stand here." He pointed to a spot.

    Jon stood.

    "From the looks of it, you¡¯re the tallest. I want everyone else to line up behind him by height. And all of you look at me."

    It didn¡¯t take them long to do so. And Ben was right. Jon was the tallest. Renald was right behind him. He didn¡¯t see the others. He didn¡¯t want to look that way. He felt a certain respect for Ben. He was exactly the kind of man Jon imagined could command a group like theirs.

    Ben turned his back on them, and another man stepped forward. He was smaller than Ben but looked at them more harshly. Ben remained, but further away. He was with Otto, talking.

    "Dogs," the new man began directly. "Ben is too soft with you. And to show you that this is serious, one of you needs to step forward."

    No one moved.

    "You never come forward on your own. Fine. I¡¯m not in the mood to wait. You!" He pointed at someone in the line. Jon only saw the back of the chosen one, who stepped forward hesitantly.

    "What¡¯s your name?"

    "James, sir."

    James bowed his head to show respect.

    And his head fell to the ground. His body crumpled beside it.

    "And by the way, my name is Rex." The man slowly wiped the blood from his sword. "And I needed six men, not seven."

 Silvia

    She was dreaming of horses. Black and white. They galloped freely across a vast, green meadow near a river. They were happy. She could feel their happiness. One of them turned and looked at her, its large, wet eyes gazing into hers. She was happy too.

    She knew she was dreaming. It was one of those dreams where her mind was both aware and clear, knowing it was a dream, yet unwilling to wake up and return to reality. She liked it. She could smell the grass, and the horses ran around her. It was as if she was five years old again, wearing her white dress, with her sister standing beside her. The sister she had been thinking of all these years.

    A violent tremor shook the ground, causing the horses to scatter, and the earth beneath them began to quake. The river beside her turned turbulent, waves rising from its surface. It was the first time she had ever seen waves in a river. Suddenly, it started to swell, flooding the land around them. Sylvia wanted to get up, grab her sister, and run, but she couldn¡¯t move. She heard her sister¡¯s voice but couldn¡¯t understand the words. Then she saw her, walking toward the water. She couldn¡¯t even call out to her.

    She knew she was dreaming. And she knew that if she opened her eyes, everything would disappear. The horses, the meadow, the grass, the river... and her sister. She would vanish again.

    With an effort, she opened her eyes. The first thing she heard was Riven¡¯s cursing.

    She felt the wooden cart she was lying in. The planks around her were soaked, and the hay was damp. At least the rain had stopped. She propped herself up on her elbows and saw her tall husband pacing nervously around the cart.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Sylvia gripped the blade she had taken from the blacksmith in one hand and steadied herself on the edge of the cart with the other.

    Riven ignored her. Another curse slipped from his lips. He didn¡¯t speak much, but when he cursed, it was best not to ask questions, as it could easily lead to her becoming the target of his frustration. It had happened before.

    Instead of asking, she leaned over and saw the problem. One of the wheels had sunk into a muddy rut. She got down from the cart, trying to avoid the mud, but it was nearly impossible. After several failed attempts to dodge the larger, water-filled holes, she simply started stepping into them.

    ¡°What now?¡± Sylvia sighed heavily and watched as Riven found a piece of wood and tried to wedge it under the wheel. Spooked by the noise, the horses tied to the cart unsuccessfully tried to bolt. Riven gripped their reins and joined in the pushing, but to no avail. Sylvia didn¡¯t move. She knew there wasn¡¯t much she could do to help, and if she tried, she would only draw Riven¡¯s irritation onto herself. So she stayed put. After each failed attempt, Riven cursed and slammed his fists against the cart, which only made the horses pull harder, causing the remaining three wheels to sink deeper into the mud alongside the one already stuck.

    ¡°I¡¯m covered in mud from this beast,¡± she dared to say.

    Riven shot her one of those looks, the kind that no one liked to see in his eyes. But he loved her. He would never raise a hand against her. That was why she allowed herself to speak to him like this. She didn¡¯t blame him.

    ¡°Get your things from the cart,¡± Riven said, finally tearing his gaze from her. ¡°We¡¯re walking.¡±

    ¡°In this mud?¡±

    ¡°Stay here if you want.¡±

    The clouds were already starting to break apart, and in the distance, the sun was beginning to peek through. It would reach them soon. The very thought of it warmed her.

    ¡°And the horses?¡± she asked, turning to him.

    Riven unfastened the leather straps holding the two animals to the cart and then stroked one of them. The horse took a few steps back but stopped when it felt the resistance from the reins in Riven¡¯s hands. He placed his hand on its forehead again, calming it. The horse seemed to understand. Sylvia thought of the horses in her dream. The river had swallowed them.

    Sylvia lifted the hem of her ankle-length dress and hopped between a few stones. After the last one, she gave up and let her dress fall. There was no point in keeping it clean anymore. Everything was covered in mud anyway.

    ¡°Come here!¡± Riven rarely spoke, but when he did, his words were law to her and always sent a shiver through her. She obeyed, walking toward him with tentative steps.

    ¡°Get on!¡± Riven pointed to where she should place her foot. Sylvia stepped up and swung herself onto the horse¡¯s back. She hadn¡¯t ridden in a long time, and she enjoyed the feeling. The horse seemed accustomed to her and accepted her easily.

    Riven mounted the other horse. He gave the reins a light flick, and his horse started moving. The one she was on followed, setting off on its own. They walked slowly.

    There was no saddle beneath her, and the horse¡¯s back was beginning to hurt her. But she had no right to complain. And despite that, the horse rode well. It was well-trained, and its previous owner was surely a refined lord or at least a knight. Of course, none of them had Riven¡¯s temperament. And that was important, though the horse likely couldn¡¯t care less about Riven¡¯s temperament until it felt it firsthand.

    Riven rode close, subtly guiding the horses through the mud, ensuring they didn¡¯t get stuck. She watched him. Not her horse, but Riven. Sometimes she wished he were more talkative. She wanted to talk to him, to share something with him. But he wouldn¡¯t respond. Or at best, he¡¯d say something quietly, something that would kill the conversation even if she heard it. This frustrated her even more.

    The two horses emerged from the mud, and on the even ground, they picked up the pace. Their strides grew more confident, their necks straightened, and their muscles, strained from the effort of not sinking, relaxed. One of them neighed, seemingly in happiness. But Sylvia kept her eyes on Riven. From the horse¡¯s back, she could see his posture. Even his hair, neatly falling on either side of his head. He hadn¡¯t bathed in a while, and his masculine scent wafted around him. But the horse¡¯s smell was stronger now.

    ¡°Is that¡­?¡±

    ¡°Mungard!¡± Riven answered before she could finish. ¡°We go in, get a cart, and leave. If there¡¯s no cart, we¡¯ll stay the night.¡±

    ¡°Stay the night? We don¡¯t have that kind of time. We¡¯re supposed to be in Chernoval by tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I know what Garvin wants, but without a cart, it¡¯ll be harder. I can¡¯t walk that long.¡±

    ¡°We could just swap these horses for some fresher ones and leave these here.¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t agree.

    ¡°What will we tell them there?¡± They were slowly approaching the village gate, where two men stood. Sylvia nodded toward them.

    ¡°You stay quiet.¡±

    Calling it a gate was generous. The fence surrounding the settlement wasn¡¯t taller than an average person, and barbed wire was strung along its top. The two men waiting at the front weren¡¯t particularly impressive either. One was short and somewhat plump, his military clothes stretched tight by the fat underneath. The other was tall and thin, with a pair of thin mustaches that made his expression more comical than intimidating. The town was close to the main kingdom of Volkar and didn¡¯t need much protection. Anything that happened here would quickly reach the kingdom.

    ¡°Stop!¡± The fat one stepped forward and halted them. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Lady C,¡± Sylvia said, glancing at Riven. He seemed to expect her to come up with something and kept his gaze fixed on the guards. She was good at lying when necessary.

    ¡°Lady C?¡± The fat man laughed. ¡°That¡¯s stupid. What do you want here?¡±

    ¡°We want to enter Mungard.¡±

    ¡°I can see that myself.¡± The fat man scratched his nose. ¡°For what reason?¡±

    Sylvia looked at Riven, then back at the fat guard.

    ¡°I have a meeting here. Tonight. At the tavern.¡±

    ¡°A meeting? With who?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that. What are you guarding?¡±

    ¡°The gates, obviously. And you¡¯re not coming in.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll lose your head for those words, fat man.¡±

    ¡°And who says so?¡±

    ¡°Lady C.¡±

    ¡°Who I don¡¯t know. Please, Lady C, turn around and go back the way you came. You too, beanpole.¡± The fat man gave Riven a light push.

    Sylvia felt a pang of worry. But it was more for him. She slowly dismounted and approached the two guards at the front. Both of them, as if on cue, drew their swords and pointed them at her. Their swords were no better than the one Riven had taken from the blacksmith earlier. Plain and not well-sharpened. She didn¡¯t think the guards would do anything to her.

    But Riven reacted. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t let her handle it alone. Sometimes this irritated her.

    Her dark-haired husband swiftly drew his weapon and kicked the sword from the tall guard¡¯s hand. Then his sword met the fat man¡¯s. The more Riven pressed, the more the fat man lost his stance, his hand beginning to tremble.

    ¡°Riven!¡± Sylvia called out. Riven heard her, stepped back, and sheathed his knife. The fat man looked fearfully between her and Riven. He had fallen to his knees. He stood up and dusted himself off. Then he turned and grabbed something from the saddlebags on the ground next to him.

    ¡°Look, Lady C,¡± he said, trembling. ¡°Just tell me who you are so I can write it down. We log everyone who enters the town. Then you can go in. I didn¡¯t want it to come to this.¡±

    The fat man spoke with a trembling voice. Riven sheathed his weapon and stepped back as if nothing had happened.

    ¡°I am Lady C,¡± she said, pointing to Riven, ¡°and this is my warrior, a gift for Mungard.¡±

    The fat man jotted something down, then looked up. His hands were shaking, and so was his voice.

    ¡°It was just a joke. Mungard is a free town, especially for travelers from Volkar.¡± The fat man bowed and then stepped aside. Sylvia said nothing.

    Mungard was not one of the finest towns in the kingdom. It had a low stone wall that, in some places, was soaked with moisture, with small trickles of water seeping down from who knows where. Moss clung to the stones, ranging in color from vibrant green to dark black where the dampness had turned to mold. A few stray dogs ran around, howling, their calls answered by their brothers or cousins at the other end of town. Occasionally, similar sounds echoed from a nearby hill, sounds Sylvia couldn¡¯t tell if they were canine or lupine. In any case, the dogs knew that strangers were entering the town, and while some greeted them with friendliness, others bared their teeth. Riven managed to kick two of them, but then he gave up dealing with them. The dogs didn¡¯t attack, but they were a serious waste of time.

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    They had been here before, though only briefly. It was one of the first places they visited after meeting each other. They had made love in at least three places in the town. And she remembered all three. In the house of an old woman who had sheltered them¡ªthey did it several times while making the elderly woman brew them tea. The old woman thought they were brother and sister. Neither she nor Riven tried to convince her otherwise. And they didn¡¯t need to. The second place was in the clock tower. She didn¡¯t even remember what they were looking for there, but she remembered the pleasure. To this day, she still felt the same passion for Riven. Her desire for him never waned. And what happened in the tower was entirely spontaneous. On their last day in town, they did it in a narrow alley. Fortunately, almost no one saw them except a few whores who mistook Sylvia for one of them. Well, at that moment, they weren¡¯t wrong. She was Riven¡¯s whore.

    The deeper they went into town, the more people appeared around them. Most stopped, looked them over, and returned to their previous activities. But some kept their eyes fixed on them. Suddenly, a child ran up. It had very light blonde hair, light eyebrows, and a pale face. The boy was holding an apple, freshly bitten. He stood in front of her horse and, after staring into the animal¡¯s eyes for a few moments, extended his hand, offering the apple. The horse lowered its head and sniffed the apple with its large nostrils. It snorted and opened its mouth.

    ¡°Get away, child,¡± Riven had dismounted. He took the apple from the boy¡¯s hand. The horse followed it with its head, wanting to chew it. The boy¡¯s eyes filled with tears. Riven held the apple out to return it, but the boy didn¡¯t take it and pointed to the horse again. Riven swung his arm and threw the apple far away. The child ran off, crying, and the horse tried to follow the apple but was stopped by Riven.

    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± she asked.

    Riven looked up at her, then dropped his gaze again, showing his usual temperament.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a child, Riven. What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±

    There was no answer. There was no point in continuing.

    The people on the streets sensed that they were strangers, but they were used to others, so after glancing at them, they returned to their tasks.

    The tavern they entered was not new to them. They had visited before. Sylvia was surprised to find that the tavern¡¯s sign was still the same. The craftsman who made the wooden sign had carved a mug and a bowl crossed as if they were weapons for fighting, not eating, and the innkeeper, Waldemar, had named it just that¡ª¡°Mug and Bowl.¡±

    Riven tied the horse in the stable where everyone left their animals. Sylvia dismounted as well. It took her a moment for the pain from the saddle to leave her thighs. Riven tied the horses near a few goats, which strangely stood in the tavern¡¯s stable, patted his horse on the forehead to calm it, and headed for the tavern. Sylvia did the same with hers and followed him.

    The inn itself was a mix of bricks, stones, and wood. It was one story, but it was dug deep into the ground. The entrance led directly into a large hall where the local drunkards had already gathered, watching everyone who entered with one eye. At the back, opposite the entrance, a large hearth smoldered, despite the hot days outside, because the nights in these lands were cold. And the nights did indeed get cold, as they had learned the hard way on their last visit. The tavern smelled pleasant to her. On one hand, the beer and wine had soaked into the walls so much that this place would carry the scents of the past for centuries. Around the fire, some food was sizzling, which most of the patrons were eyeing hungrily. Sylvia noticed their eyes fixed on the food near the fire and smiled at their attempts to taste it with their eyes. Most of them were poor and could only afford something like that if they caught and cooked it themselves. They came here just for the cheap alcohol, which gave their lives a bit more meaning.

    Riven had already settled in, with a wooden cup filled with red wine in front of him. Sylvia sat next to him while she scanned the inn. This was another difference between her and Riven. She liked to know everything about the people and places they encountered, while Riven didn¡¯t care about anything. But he was always ready to draw his sword if something happened. And she hesitated.

    Sylvia was observing everyone again. She recognized only drunks. For example, she was sure the old man with long white hair had once been a blacksmith. His forearms were huge, and his fingers bore burn scars. Two small men sat with him, their feet not reaching the floor even while seated. They looked very much alike, perhaps brothers. Both behaved oddly and amusingly, but they entertained the bearded old man while beer spilled down his beard. At a nearby table sat a woman who looked young until she turned, and Sylvia saw her eye. It was closed, with a scar over it. That alone aged her several years. And when she spoke, her throaty voice filled the place, silencing everyone around her, and Waldemar, the innkeeper, quickly approached her. They spoke quietly. A few tables of young men, a bit more armed, glanced her way, but she amused herself with them. She knew that if they dared approach, Riven would take at least their hands. Maybe more. But there was one person who caught her attention the most. They were hooded, with eyes peeking out from the darkness of their face. They seemed to glow. They sat alone at a table, with an empty cup before them. Sylvia couldn¡¯t tell if it was a man or a woman, but they seemed to be watching her constantly.

    Behind them were three more people. All three were well-dressed, with nice clothes and tall hats. One of them had a mustache, which made him look even more important. Sylvia made one of her playful faces and turned to Riven, who was eagerly gulping down drink after drink.

    ¡°If you keep this up, I¡¯ll have to carry you to the stable and take advantage of you there.¡±

    Riven glanced at her and drank again.

    ¡°Yes, I know you desire me too.¡± Sylvia rolled her eyes and glanced back at the hooded figure. She couldn¡¯t decide what bothered her more about them: their bright eyes or their hidden face.

    She looked at Riven again. Her lover was already lifting his second cup, occasionally glancing around the tavern. Nothing hinted at the kind of trouble they often found themselves in. And often not by their choice. They were just like that. They attracted attention.

    ¡°Brandtor!¡± The innkeeper¡¯s voice echoed through the place.

    Sylvia turned her gaze toward it. Her feminine curiosity tried to help her learn everything. Riven pretended not to hear.

    ¡°You lazy good-for-nothing! Get over here now!¡±

    At the second call, the innkeeper used a heavier, stronger voice, which seemed to break against the stone walls.

    A boy, no older than seventeen, slowly moved from the back of the tavern and, with hesitant steps, walked toward the large wine barrels behind which his father stood.

    The innkeeper wasn¡¯t very patient. He quickly closed the distance, grabbed the boy by the shirt, and yanked him behind the barrels.

    Sylvia couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying, despite the complete silence that had fallen over the dark place. Everyone was watching. Everyone except Riven. Nothing interested him. That¡¯s just how he was.

    A loud slap echoed behind the barrels. A moment later, the boy with chestnut hair and a slender frame, apparently named Brandtor, was thrown to the ground by the innkeeper. The silence in the inn was so deafening that for a moment, the conversations of people outside on the street could be heard.

    Sylvia clenched her cup. She didn¡¯t know what to do or how to help the boy. And it wasn¡¯t wise to interfere in other people¡¯s fights. She looked for Riven¡¯s eyes, hoping to gauge his thoughts. But she couldn¡¯t find them. Riven was staring at someone across the tables. Sylvia didn¡¯t turn to look. That would be suspicious. And they didn¡¯t know anyone here.

    ¡°No!¡± the boy cried out, and she looked back at him. A bottle of wine flew through the air and shattered near his head. The innkeeper was like a madman.

    Sylvia¡¯s hair was blown back. Someone had passed so quickly by her that she hadn¡¯t noticed. She only felt the breeze the stranger created. Then she saw him. He was dressed entirely in black. In his hand was a knife, not the most dangerous of weapons, but it could be deadly.

    The stranger pushed one of the barrels. It fell to the ground, and within moments, the entire wooden floor was stained red. Now the innkeeper was visible in almost full stature. He was crazed. And from the neck up, he was entirely red. Sylvia could bet he was the same color as the wine.

    The innkeeper was so preoccupied with beating the boy on the ground that he didn¡¯t even notice the wine spilling or the other person standing next to him. A person who was swinging a knife. Sylvia could now see the knife more clearly. It was an ordinary knife, the kind servants and cooks used to kill a pig or cut a lady¡¯s dress. Sometimes the very thought of the ladies in the kingdoms made her sick. She couldn¡¯t stand them. Them and their whims.

    Any moment now, the stranger would strike the innkeeper. Sylvia¡¯s mouth was agape. Deep down, she knew she should get up and help, but shock had frozen her in place. She regretted it later. For now, all she could do was wait to see whether the knife would strike the innkeeper¡¯s neck or chest.

    The innkeeper still didn¡¯t notice the other man, instead reaching for a glass bottle to throw at the boy on the ground.

    She couldn¡¯t recall another moment in her recent life when she had been as startled as she was now. It was like witnessing one of those entertainments that the kingdoms sometimes put on for their people with local actors or jesters.

    The stranger swung at the innkeeper, but in an instant, he was stopped, stabbed in the throat, and knocked to the ground. And to her even greater surprise, the one who had killed him was Riven. Sylvia turned to look at Riven¡¯s chair. It was empty. When had he stood up? When had he gone over to the innkeeper?

    At that moment, chaos broke out in the tavern, the only sound being the many chairs clattering to the floor.

    The innkeeper stared in disbelief at the dead man next to him, whose blood was mixing with the wine. The boy, whom the innkeeper had been beating moments before, was now on his feet, leaning fearfully against the nearest wall. Blood trickled from under one of his eyes.

    ¡°What?¡± the innkeeper stammered, not knowing what to say. ¡°Why did you kill him? Here?¡±

    Riven didn¡¯t respond. He bent down, pulled his blade from the victim¡¯s throat, stood up, and with his foot, managed to roll the body over to see the face. By now, Sylvia was already by his side. As she had expected, they had once again become the center of attention, surrounded by a crowd. The bad part was that this crowd was not calm.

    ¡°Who do you think you are?¡± shouted a man as he stepped forward. ¡°Who are you to draw a weapon here?¡±

    Riven didn¡¯t reply. Talking wasn¡¯t his strong suit. But Sylvia spoke up.

    ¡°He¡¯s with me,¡± she said, the only thing she could think of. ¡°Now everyone, go back to your places.¡±

    Laughter mixed with jeers and shouts came from the crowd.

    ¡°So brave. Why don¡¯t you come to the back, and I¡¯ll shut your mouth for you?¡±

    Laughter again rippled through the crowd. Only the man at the front wasn¡¯t laughing.

    Everyone fell silent. Three more of them drew swords. Riven was ready. Sylvia also drew her two blades, the ones she had taken from the blacksmith. She truly enjoyed this tension. She waited for Riven to take the first step in the dance that awaited them. She tingled all over when she saw him ready to kill. If she were alone, she wouldn¡¯t have the strength or confidence. But now, with Riven by her side, she could face the whole world.

    Riven took the first two steps. Sylvia moved alongside him. Three of the attackers were in front of Riven, and she had to deal with just one. Behind them, she could hear the shrill cries of the innkeeper, who was trying to stop them. Sylvia swung at the man in front of her. He was ugly. His face looked gaunt and pale. He held a sword that hadn¡¯t been cleaned in a long time. The thought that it might even cut her disgusted her. In her peripheral vision, she saw Riven spinning his two swords as if he were truly dancing. While she parried her opponent¡¯s blows, she understood why Riven had wanted the weak sword from the blacksmith. He didn¡¯t want to waste his own sword blocking attacks from scum like these. She smiled. And the ugly man in front of her was trying to attack her yet again.

    Riven had taught her everything she knew about fighting with swords and shorter blades like hers. But she never managed to become as good as him. She attributed it to his male strength. Although she never fully understood this distinction, she could feel it. She wouldn¡¯t have been able to handle the three Riven was fighting. And judging by the shouts of the drunks in the crowd around them, he was winning. She could tell by his heavy breathing and the slight grunts he made with each strike. He wasn¡¯t exactly quiet in battle. Just like when he made love to her.

    The stranger attacked again, and she did the same thing every time. She blocked with one weapon and tried to attack with the other. Unsuccessfully, every time.

    They circled each other. She could feel her opponent¡¯s uncertainty. He wasn¡¯t particularly strong. Riven would finish him off quickly. The ugly man began to gain the upper hand, pushing her further back. Sylvia didn¡¯t give in easily. She watched him, then his feet, trying to come up with something to turn the fight around.

    Riven killed the first one. He had two left. She had one.

    Her opponent tried another strike, now lulled into the monotony of their fight, expecting the same movement from her. But this time, she didn¡¯t block. Sylvia stepped forward, feinted with one hand, and with the other, she sliced deeply into her opponent¡¯s arm. Riven had taught her that if a fight dragged on, she should come up with something different, even if it was the dumbest move in battle history. It would surprise her opponent. And it did. He roared, and as he raised his other arm for what might be one last, desperate attack, his head fell to the floor.

    It was Riven.

    Now she could see the crowd in the tavern more clearly. All this time, it had seemed like there were many people. But there were no more than twenty. Behind her, the innkeeper was crying in a corner, and the boy who had started it all was trying to console him. Sylvia carelessly kicked the head of the ugly man she had fought and made her way to Riven. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. He didn¡¯t react. That didn¡¯t surprise her.

    What surprised her was the voice from the back of the now-silent tavern.

    ¡°My old friends have learned some new moves...¡±

    At first, the voice seemed familiar. Riven also looked in that direction, stopped wiping his weapon, and gripped it again. Sylvia readied herself too.

    ¡°Relax, my dear friends. I¡¯m not here to attack you.¡±

    A tall, dark figure approached them. Sylvia immediately recognized the hooded stranger. The hood was now down, revealing a tall woman, around their age, with long hair that started white and darkened to black at the tips. Her eyes were light, and her skin was dark. She had a spear strapped to her back.

    ¡°Elarra?¡±

    Sylvia could have sworn she felt Riven¡¯s pulse. And it wasn¡¯t calm.

 Bayar

    The long corridors of the kingdom had long ceased to be a problem for him. He could navigate them blindfolded, recognizing his location without a second thought. Sometimes, he felt like a mouse hiding in the dungeons, occasionally emerging in rooms only to send everyone into a panic. His family home on the outskirts of the capital stood empty. He didn¡¯t remember his father. As a child, his mother had told him stories about him, but even those tales had faded from his memory. Eventually, he stopped asking. It didn¡¯t matter since his father wasn¡¯t there. As he grew older, he realized that in this place, men weren¡¯t highly valued. He had a choice: either to hide in the kingdom¡¯s corridors or to flee. He chose the former and never regretted it.

    ¡°Bayar?¡±

    He recognized the voice without turning but did so anyway.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Thalia. I shouldn¡¯t have¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, Bayar. Just hide. Quickly.¡±

    Thalia glanced down the corridor, but there was no one in sight. She seemed afraid of something.

    Bayar had known Thalia for a long time, ever since she was a child. Unlike Valeris and Ivora, she had grown up in the kingdom. She was the daughter of a servant in Selene¡¯s retinue. However, her mother died in a bizarre accident that no one understood. Selene took Thalia in and treated her as her own child. It had been like that for over fifteen years. Bayar had been there all along too. He wasn¡¯t adopted by the queen, but his mother was the best cook in the kingdom. As children, they often met, running and playing in the corridors. But as they grew older, Thalia distanced herself, becoming more reserved and spending more time in the queen¡¯s chambers or near her. That she was speaking to him now surprised him.

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    ¡°The other ladies will be passing through here soon. You know they don¡¯t like seeing many men in the corridors.¡±

    ¡°But they know me. They¡¯ve seen me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better if you hide somewhere.¡±

    Was Jasmin seeing through his eyes now? He wasn¡¯t sure. He couldn¡¯t feel her presence. She had said she would warn him, but he didn¡¯t trust her. And now, she had given him another task.

    Thalia was kind and shy, like a child. If he had encountered Valeris or Ivora, they likely would have scolded him for wandering the palace and then reported him. It had happened before, leading to him being banished from the castle for at least five days, or until his mother found a way to get him back in.

    But now, it was important to stay. He had a job from Jasmin, and he had to complete it. He needed to return to her with something belonging to someone close to the queen. Getting something from the queen herself was nearly impossible. Valeris too. That left Thalia or Ivora.

    ¡°I came to see my mother,¡± Bayar lied. ¡°I had something to give her. Gaya, the cook.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I know who your mother is, Bayar. I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡±

    In the distance, footsteps echoed, quick and heavy, accompanied by clattering. Thalia looked into Bayar¡¯s eyes. Her eyes were beautiful. He understood her hint and hid in the darkness. He thought of Jasmin again. Was she watching through his eyes now? Unlikely. Last time, she had been exhausted from her previous vision and had said she wanted to rest. But he couldn¡¯t trust her, so he had to be careful. Most of the time, he could feel her presence. Not now. He assumed she wasn¡¯t here.

    Bayar hid in a dark alcove similar to the one he had hidden in last time when Thalia was speaking with someone else. He hoped they wouldn¡¯t see him and that he might hear something useful.

    ¡°Thalia?¡±

    This time, he could see both Thalia and the woman with her better. The woman was Ivora, the other lady of the queen. ¡°What are you doing in these corridors?¡± Ivora looked around.

    ¡°Checking one of the rooms,¡± Thalia replied. ¡°We¡¯re expecting guests, after all, and the queen has tasked me¡­¡±

    ¡°One of the rooms?¡± Ivora interrupted. ¡°Are we housing people from Volkar here?¡±

    ¡°No, but you know what the queen said. We need to be prepared for anything. We don¡¯t know if the rooms below will be enough.¡±

    ¡°She told you that, not me.¡± Ivora was brusque, but she reached out and took Thalia¡¯s hands, looking her directly in the eyes. Bayar wondered what they felt like. His weren¡¯t the smoothest in the world, and his mother¡¯s were rough and thick. The same was true of the maids in the common room. For a moment, he wished to touch Thalia¡¯s hands. They looked snow-white and warm.

    Like Jasmin¡¯s.

    When he thought of Jasmin, fear gripped him. He had forgotten again that she could be watching or even be inside him now. She had once done it without him noticing. He had felt chills, starting from his neck and running down his back.

    ¡°Today is market day in the city.¡± Ivora¡¯s soft voice pulled him back into their conversation. ¡°Traders from Solis are arriving. Come with me; there might be something interesting. And we can talk.¡±

    ¡°Severin is coming today. The king of Volkar.¡±

    ¡°What do they need us for, Thalia? We¡¯ll greet them, and then they¡¯ll go about their royal business.¡±

    This was his chance. He could succeed there. It would be difficult to get close to any of them in the palace, but out there, among the crowd of people¡­ Yes, there would be guards, but both Ivora and Thalia knew him. If they saw him there, they might speak to him, and then he might succeed.

    He didn¡¯t hear Thalia¡¯s reply, but he saw Ivora embrace her, wrapping her arms around her waist. They were close, no doubt about it. As they began to leave, Thalia glanced back at him and made a gesture with her hand, clearly indicating that now was the time to leave. Bayar took a few steps to the side, staying in the dark, and then nearly ran. He was confident Ivora hadn¡¯t noticed him. He had spent years learning to be quick, especially in this kingdom. And thanks to Jasmin, he knew every inch of it by heart.

    This time, he took the stairs at the other end of the corridor, which led to the main hallway before the throne room. Here, he had to be careful. Anyone could see him. Red-haired female guards roamed everywhere. In the evening, most would be outside in the courtyard during the queen¡¯s traditional walk through the capital. This reassured him, and he moved cautiously with keen eyes, crossing the entire corridor. Soon, he found himself in the library again. He turned before the third shelf and heard Ratt¡¯s voice:

    ¡°Don¡¯t go in there.¡± Bayar stopped. ¡°The queen¡¯s sister doesn¡¯t want to be disturbed.¡±

    A chill ran down his spine. Ratt knew he visited the queen, but he still felt uneasy whenever they met in the corridors. It felt like he was doing something wrong. And that wasn¡¯t true.

    ¡°Yes, boy. You¡¯re visiting more often. I don¡¯t mind, but if you¡¯re caught there even once, things will go badly for you. And probably for me too.¡± Ratt extended his hands. ¡°Here, take this.¡±

    Bayar accepted a book that had just been in Ratt¡¯s hands. It had a hammer drawn on it, and underneath, the words ¡°Ironwork.¡±

    ¡°Can you do me a favor?¡±

    He didn¡¯t want to help, but he couldn¡¯t refuse. Not if he wanted Ratt to keep his secret.

    ¡°You need to go to the blacksmith. There¡¯s a boy there.¡±

    Bayar knew what Ratt would say. The boy¡¯s name was Pip, and his hair was so black it was darker than the tar in the forge.

    ¡°I think his name is Pip.¡± Ratt raised his palm and waved slightly. ¡°Give him this book. And tell him to check the last pages.¡±

    ¡°The last pages?¡±

    ¡°Yes. He needs to craft a gift for King Severin. And tell him it must be done by tonight.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Bayar stood up straight, making sure Ratt saw who was standing there. ¡°This is important.¡±

    ¡°I could tell Valeris to do it, but I don¡¯t like her.¡± Ratt waved dismissively. ¡°The other option is to go myself, but the thought of it terrifies me. I don¡¯t like leaving Lady Selene¡¯s castle. I¡¯d rather stay here in the library. And Ivora or Thalia are too prissy.¡± He raised his hand again, but this time pointed a finger upward. ¡°But you didn¡¯t hear that from me.¡±

    ¡°What if I fail?¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t fail. I¡¯m not sending you on a military mission, boy. You just need to deliver a book. How hard can that be?¡± His tone hardened slightly with the last sentence.

    ¡°Valeris is the queen¡¯s confidante. Why don¡¯t you trust her?¡±

    The question seemed to surprise him.

    ¡°She¡¯s confident, strong, and uncompromising, but I find her a bit foolish.¡±

    ¡°So now we both have a secret. You know I visit Jasmin, and I know you hate everyone around the queen.¡±

    ¡°Secret? I¡¯m just asking you to do something. Is it so difficult? And I adore Selene. Don¡¯t try to threaten me. I¡¯ve survived here for so long, and I¡¯ll survive again. Just do the job, and I¡¯ll keep pretending not to notice your little outings.¡±

    Bayar would do it. He didn¡¯t need more convincing, but he wanted to see how far Ratt would go. And Ratt didn¡¯t disappoint.

    ¡°So, boy, you¡¯ve got a little time before the sun sets.¡± Ratt was still talking. ¡°Go to the forge and find Pip. Give him the book and only him.¡±

    ¡°What if the master blacksmith stops me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll make sure he doesn¡¯t stop you or even notice. I have my reasons for wanting the item made by a man, not a woman.¡±

    ¡°You dare to prefer a man in the women¡¯s kingdom? You could be killed for such words.¡±

    ¡°Are you an executioner or a judge?¡±

    Bayar fell silent, turning the book over in his hands and wiping the dust off with his sleeve. Everything here was covered in dust. The library seemed forgotten, even though Ratt took good care of the books.

    ¡°Go in and see Jasmin.¡±

    ¡°But didn¡¯t she say she didn¡¯t want to be disturbed?¡±

    ¡°I lied.¡±

    Bayar almost jumped, rushed to the small door, pushed it open, and entered.

    The atmosphere inside hadn¡¯t changed. It was dark, with candles, paintings, trinkets, and garlands, many books, and Jasmin sitting in her wheelchair at her desk, quill in hand.

    ¡°Listen to Ratt and do him the favor.¡±

    ¡°I knew it. You¡¯re watching through my eyes. I felt you in the corridor.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t entered you, silly boy. Everything in the library can be heard from here.¡±

    ¡°Ivora and Thalia will be there too. I heard them.¡±

    ¡°I suppose my sister will be there as well unless Severin has arrived. Everyone eagerly awaits such gatherings of traders. Local girls want to show off their newest dresses, hoping she will notice and bring them into the castle, and the traders arrive in their finest attire. Most are men and know what kind of kingdom this is. Almost every time after such an event, at least a dozen pregnancies occur, and the fathers vanish into the next kingdom.¡±

    Jasmin often digressed like this. Bayar knew she loved to talk, especially when she had been alone for so long, and someone appeared. That someone was always him. So he let her speak without interruption, and when she finished, he continued on the topic:

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if the queen will be there. Thalia told me¡­¡±

    ¡°Thalia saw you? Then you were careless. How could you let that happen?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it. She knows these corridors as well as I do.¡±

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t expect it, you were careless.¡± Jasmin interrupted him, repeating herself, and he looked up. Many things he wanted to say to her, but he didn¡¯t. ¡°What will they do there?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Ivora asked her to go, and she agreed. I couldn¡¯t get anything from either of them.¡±

    ¡°I expected that. It would be a miracle if you succeeded on the first try. We don¡¯t have time. Preparations are already being heard outside. Severin could arrive at any moment.¡± Jasmin pushed away from the desk, and her wheelchair turned. She faced him and looked up to meet his eyes. ¡°I need a strand of your hair.¡±

    ¡°A hair? Why mine?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll watch through your eyes. I want to see everything, to see the traders, to see Thalia and Ivora.¡±

    ¡°A hair? You¡¯ve never needed anything of mine. Why now?¡±

    ¡°The connection is stronger. Usually, an object of yours is enough. But a hair makes it stronger.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Bayar froze for a moment.

    ¡°How do you think this works, boy? I just close my eyes and think of you? No, there are rules. Now, do it.¡±

    ***

    The weather outside was bad. He could feel the dampness seeping into her room. Some of the stones in the wall became moist, and thin streams of water began to flow down them. She had long stopped worrying about them. The water trickled along the wall and continued down to those who slept beneath the earth in their eternal rest. Where her mother now slept.

    She thought about Bayar. She had to focus solely on him to enter his body. She had to become one with him. She had to stop feeling her muscles, her vision, her sense of smell, and her hearing. She had to see through him before seeing through him. Then, desire and reality would merge, and it would truly happen.

    She had first used the ring when she was very young. She didn¡¯t know how it had come into her possession. When she could move herself with the wheelchair, she was often left alone to care for Selene. Their mother, Lira, was busy with the kingdom¡¯s affairs and sometimes left so quickly that she forgot to call one of her ladies to be with them. Then it was her turn. But to her delight, Selene was well-behaved and had all sorts of wooden toys, even ones the seamstresses sewed and filled with goose down. Among the pile of toys was the eye. The ring wasn¡¯t appealing to children, and Selene would never have thought to play with it. But it caught Jasmin¡¯s attention. She picked it up and felt better. The pain in her back also became more bearable. She had once dreamed of feeling that pain in her legs but being able to walk. Naturally, nothing of the sort happened.

    She didn¡¯t understand the ring¡¯s power until later. Before that, it was just a wooden toy. She loved colorful, bright things, and the ring was wooden and dirty. The ring seemed to come to her on its own.

    She held it in her hand, examining it the same way she did now. She already had rings and other gold trinkets, but this ring seemed more interesting.

    The ring stayed with her for many days before she remembered it again. She had forgotten it until one day she found herself in the same place where she had found it and saw Selene playing with it. She bent down and picked it up from the ground with the other wooden toys. She didn¡¯t remember what made her do it, but she squeezed it tightly in her hand, and suddenly she was in another place. She couldn¡¯t tell if it was a dream or reality. She couldn¡¯t move; she couldn¡¯t control anything about her body. Her body moved on its own.

    Maybe because it wasn¡¯t hers.

    The eyes she looked through nervously darted left and right. Jasmin recognized the place. It was the common room where the servants slept. It was large, with many feather-stuffed blankets scattered on the ground to keep out the cold. Each had several blankets on top. Some were occupied by people; others were empty and neatly arranged.

    The body she was in moved on its own. She did nothing and felt nothing. It passed through all the sleeping people on the floor and began touching them one by one. It found various stones, iron, and silver necklaces, and wires the blacksmiths bought. It stuffed all the items into its bosom, and whatever was left was hidden under its place. She was aware. Besides seeing, she had started to feel. But the body was foreign. It was like a dream, though she was sure she wasn¡¯t dreaming.

    It pressed the handle of the common room door, and when it stepped out, her mother¡ªQueen Lira¡ªstood before her.

    Jasmin felt fear in the foreign body, and the intense emotion pulled her out, returning her to herself. She was back in her chair, with Selene and two of their ladies around her.

    She closed her eyes again, shaking off the memory. Now she was back in the small, damp room in the library. Selene hadn¡¯t visited her in a long time, and her life had unfolded just as it would for any crippled person in the kingdom. The difference was that she was warm and had food. And she had Bayar. Bayar was her connection to the outside world and was important to her, though she never admitted it to him.

    Thunder struck outside. The light vibrations shook the stone wall. Jasmin took the iron rod in her hand and pushed off the ground with it, causing the wheels to move and carry her to the bed. She thought about Bayar. She lifted herself from the chair and onto the bed. She had trained for this movement for many years, yet the transfer was sometimes too abrupt, causing her to fall heavily. She held the ring in her palm. She turned on her back and stared at the wooden ceiling. Without looking at her hands, she slipped the ring onto her finger.

    A wave of energy surged from the tips of her bare toes, spreading to the ends of her red hair. Sometimes, the impact was stronger, and this time it was. Her eyelids grew heavy and slowly closed.

    She opened them with effort as if trying to wake up from a bad dream.

    And she was no longer here.

    She was at the kingdom¡¯s gates. She could feel her legs. She loved the feeling of having legs. At first, it was strange, but she got used to it. She could see and hear, and a dark strand of hair fell in front of her face. The eyes of the body she was in looked down. Jasmin saw the brown pants Bayar wore and his black, battered shoes.

    She didn¡¯t know if he sensed that she was there. She assumed he did. He had once told her that his body tingled when she entered him. But sometimes, he said that without her being inside him. Now, it didn¡¯t matter as much.

    Bayar walked slowly, looking around at every corner. She knew him well. He tried to be brave but still feared. After all, he was a seventeen-year-old boy. And the men who remained in Meihar were not known for their bravery. The brave ones usually fled north or south. Those who stayed were the ones who could submit to a woman and accept that a woman would command them their entire life, whether it was their mother, wife, or someone from the kingdom. Bayar was like that, but sometimes Jasmin thought of him as simply too naive. And that naivety often helped him.

    He passed by several riders who were watching the fields ahead. They were expecting someone. Bayar saw them and circled around them from a distance. None of them paid him any attention.

    Most of the women Bayar passed looked at him strangely, which was normal, but many of them smiled slyly at him. The harlots loved men and sought them out.

    She had forgotten how emotions affected the body she entered, and the surge of jealousy was so strong that Bayar felt it, causing him to stop in his tracks. If he hadn¡¯t sensed her before, he certainly did now. The boy stood still for a moment and then continued walking.

    In the distance, shouts and cheers could be heard. Bayar often glanced in that direction. The day for the contenders¡¯ fights was approaching. That was likely what was being heard. And it seemed Severin had already been welcomed. There was no one she recognized. And the crowd seemed more focused on heading to the arenas than the trading quarter. That was good.

    Jasmin was sure her sister was somewhere out there. And in this rain, she could only imagine how she stood by the puddles of mud, watching the fights in the arena. Sometimes, she was glad she hadn¡¯t inherited her mother Lira¡¯s throne but Selene. And sometimes, she was grateful for what had happened to her. Not always, but sometimes¡­

    Bayar sensed her again. This time, she was sure of it. When she experienced an emotion, it transferred to the body she was in. That¡¯s why she had to stop thinking about anything else. Otherwise, she would wake up, and everything would fall apart.

    Bayar entered the trading quarter. Although it was market day, there weren¡¯t many people today. Most were probably at the arena, and the foreigners had been delayed by the rain. Sooner or later, it would fill up here. No weather could stop silver and copper coins from passing through the hands of those hungry for a bit more wealth.

    A cart passed by, splashing mud onto his body. Bayar¡¯s anger surged so strongly that even she felt it. Another intense emotion. Intense emotions somehow worked better. Maybe if she learned to work with them, she could control a foreign body even when it was calmer.

    Bayar looked up. The forge¡¯s chimney was smoking. He knew why. If it was smoking, it meant the forge was working. And if it was working, it meant Pip was there.

    Bayar pushed open the wooden door, which swung open smoothly. At first, he didn¡¯t see anyone. He took a few more steps inside. The heat and warmth began to suffocate him so much that Jasmin felt it too.

    To his left was a forge that hadn¡¯t fully ignited, and a black-haired boy was pumping air into it. In the other corner was a large woman with short blonde hair, who had more exposed skin than covered.

    Neither of them noticed him or paid him any attention.

    Bayar looked at his hands. There was the small book Ratt had given him. He couldn¡¯t make out the inscription, but it bore a strange iron mark resembling a hammer.

    ¡°Pip?¡± Bayar almost had to shout, drowned out by the boy¡¯s hammering. The boy turned. He was Bayar¡¯s age. Jasmin saw him for the first time. He was completely black. Even his once-white skin was almost entirely covered in soot. Under his eyes, on his hands, everywhere was black.

    ¡°Bayar!¡± The boy threw down his bellows and spread his arms toward Bayar. They knew each other. ¡°Where have you been, Bayar? Still wandering around the kingdom? Have you seen the queen¡¯s underwear?¡± Pip playfully nudged Bayar¡¯s shoulder, who seemed to freeze. He knew Jasmin was watching and felt ashamed of her and Pip¡¯s words. She didn¡¯t like hearing boyish talk either. Such things weren¡¯t often heard in the kingdom because there were simply no men here.

    ¡°Hey, Pip!¡± The woman¡¯s voice from the corner was louder than the blows of her hammer. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°A customer,¡± Pip shouted back.

    ¡°What does he want?¡± The shouting continued.

    Pip looked at Bayar, shrugged slightly, and curled his lips. While he watched him, a new shout echoed in the forge, this time from him:

    ¡°Something small. He¡¯s a foreigner. Wants an ornament for a necklace. You know how traders are, always looking for gifts.¡±

    ¡°All right, all right,¡± the large woman hammered. ¡°Make sure he pays first. Then make him whatever he wants.¡±

    Jasmin recognized the woman. It was Winda, though she wasn¡¯t sure if that was her real name, and she was the chief blacksmith of the kingdom. She was fat, blonde, and always had greasy hands. She rarely left the forge, and everyone feared her. At least that¡¯s what she had heard. She hadn¡¯t seen her since she was little, but looking now, it seemed she hadn¡¯t changed at all.

    Pip winked at Bayar, took his hand, and led him further away from their previous spot.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? You don¡¯t want to¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Bayar interrupted and shoved the book into his hands. ¡°The librarian, Ratt.¡±

    ¡°Ratt, Rott¡­ Ah, yes. What does that old man want?¡±

    ¡°He said you¡¯d know. And he asked me to give it to you.¡±

    Pip flipped through the book. At first, his expression showed he had no idea what it was. Then he remembered and flipped to the last page of the book.

    ¡°Well, did you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Apparently, we¡¯re expecting guests.¡±

    Jasmin felt Bayar¡¯s surprise at Pip¡¯s last words. Pip noticed it in his eyes too.

    ¡°It¡¯s an old tradition in Meihar. Whenever there¡¯s an important visit, two daggers are made. One is given to the guest, and the other remains for the kingdom. It shows the gratitude of both kingdoms. Something like that, Bayar.¡±

    ¡°How many times have you made such things?¡±

    ¡°This is my first, but Winda has made many in the past.¡± Pip glanced somewhere behind Bayar, probably at the blonde lady. Jasmin knew her, though only faintly. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for such an order for a long time.¡±

    ¡°How long will it take you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be quick, Bayar. If I start today, I¡¯ll pour them by tomorrow evening. The ornaments will take more time, but they¡¯ll be ready quickly if Winda helps me.¡±

    ¡°You have until this evening.¡±

    Pip jumped.

    ¡°This evening?¡±

    ¡°Is there a problem, Pip?¡± Winda¡¯s voice rang out.

    ¡°N-no.¡± He was nervous. ¡°It¡¯s impossible, Bayar.¡±

    Bayar shrugged. Pip began to sweat. Maybe it was the heat.

    Only now did Bayar turn around. The large blonde woman sat on a stool in the other corner, doing something with her fingers. Just one of her fingers was as big as at least three of Bayar¡¯s. When she sat in the dark, with only her silhouette visible, she was terrifying. Jasmin felt his fear of her. She understood him. The lady didn¡¯t seem like the calmest person.

    ¡°Well, then. I¡¯ll tell Ratt you¡¯ll be ready.¡±

    ¡°And the money?¡± Pip grabbed his shoulder.

    ¡°The money when you¡¯re done.¡± He had made that up. He didn¡¯t know what else to say.

    ¡°Well, fine. No reason for the queen to lie. I doubt she¡¯ll find a better blacksmith.¡±

    Pip turned his back on him, and Jasmin saw the boy place the book near the forge. He didn¡¯t want to talk anymore. Instead, he was feverishly turning the iron in his hands.

    The boy pushed the wooden door open again and stepped out in front of the forge.

    It was still raining, though more lightly. From the arena, loud cheers could be heard again. Someone had won, and another had lost. A few more people ran between the stalls. They were heading for the arena and were passionately discussing something about a little girl losing an eye in a fight with wooden swords. Jasmin couldn¡¯t hear Bayar¡¯s thoughts, but sometimes she could sense his feelings. The last thing he heard had upset him slightly.

    ¡°Stop, boy!¡± A hand clad in heavy steel rested on Bayar¡¯s chest. Bayar looked to his right. One of the guards had stopped him at the forge¡¯s entrance without even looking at him. Two horses were pulling a cart, which was covered. The path between the stalls here narrowed, forcing the cart to stop. The guard¡¯s hand fell away. Bayar stayed put and watched the royal cart adorned with various pendants in different colors. The smell around was of stagnant water. The place had such a reputation, and it worsened after the rain.

    Two women disembarked from either side of the cart. Both held umbrellas. One was red, and the other blue. Thalia stepped out under the red one. She was wearing her white dress, the color she always wore. Her black hair cascaded down, untouched by the water.

    Ivora, on the other side, looked more beautiful than her today. She matched her umbrella, and her blue dress was shorter than Thalia¡¯s long one, and she didn¡¯t care if the edges of her dress got dirty in the mud. For Thalia¡¯s dress, it was too late; the mud had already stained parts of her clothing.

    Jasmin saw them for the first time in a long time. They had grown up. They were women. In another kingdom, they would already have husbands and at least one child, but in Meihar, things weren¡¯t like that. Sometimes, she felt sorry when she saw beautiful girls like them, trapped without men in Meihar. Selene probably knew this too. And as far as she knew her, she would soon find them husbands to father their children, and then she would expel them. That¡¯s how things worked here.

    She felt the excitement in Bayar¡¯s heart. It was normal for him not to see them as just women. For men, especially at his age, they were also objects of a different kind of desire. It was interesting to feel even a fragment of what a man experiences when he sees a woman. She couldn¡¯t describe it. It was interesting. She had felt something similar only once. One of the two sons of Lord Zoran, the lord of Blackvale, was visiting. One son was named Vladimir, the other Boris. Vladimir was the elder, who should now be her age if he were alive. The last time they had come here, they were young, but not so young as not to know what happened between a man and a woman. She fell in love with his masculine features and stern expression. But he didn¡¯t even look at her. Because she was once again confined to her wheelchair, in which she still sat. He looked at her sister Selene, but even Jasmin knew he had no chance with her. To her sister, men were merely tools that shouldn¡¯t be paid attention to the rest of the time. Their mother had trained her from a young age.

    Bayar was nervous. She felt the trembling in his heart. He stood aside from the crowd waiting for the royal ladies to move on, surrounded by guards who all seemed like the same person. All were women, tall and red-haired.

    Neither Ivora nor Thalia saw Bayar. And now was his moment. The excitement of seeing them made Jasmin start to feel her body again. But it was too early to wake up. For a moment, she fell into a state where she realized she was dreaming and prayed the dream wouldn¡¯t end. In this case, she didn¡¯t pray; she tried to focus only on Bayar and make her sense of smell recall his. That¡¯s how the connection became even stronger.

    The rain stopped entirely, and the sun began to peek out. Bayar didn¡¯t move. The two ladies linked arms and walked together. The women with the umbrellas, who had helped them, walked a little behind.

    Jasmin tried to remember either Thalia or Ivora, but she couldn¡¯t. She needed eye contact, something personal from them, or their scent. Bayar had to do something to speak to them, to be seen by them, or, best of all, to be embraced by them. And he had to act today. In two days, the people from Volkar would arrive, and it would be too late.

    Bayar followed the ladies¡¯ group. The two in front of him were chatting animatedly, pointing to the stalls around them. Jasmin knew that he knew Thalia, and if she saw him, things could become easier. But neither she nor Ivora turned, and every step Bayar took closer was met with a loud curse from the guards or a slight threat enough to deter him.

    Even Bayar seemed to realize that it would be difficult this way and changed his course, leaving them behind. His task was to take something from the girls or get close enough for Jasmin to sense them. That¡¯s how the ring worked. So far, nothing of the sort was happening.

    Bayar passed the stalls on the right, turned behind them, and climbed the first walls, which were low and easy to access. He walked along them, slightly bent, trying not to attract attention. Jasmin¡¯s heart began to beat faster. Just watching through his eyes made her excited as he leaped from stone to stone. Bayar was now parallel to the two ladies. He ran quickly, trying not to overtake them.

    And that¡¯s when the pain he felt transferred to Jasmin. Jasmin had never felt her legs, and this was the first time she felt something in them. It wasn¡¯t her pain, but it felt as if she had experienced it. She liked it, but it also woke her up.

    She opened her eyes. She was in her room. She closed them again. She wanted to return to Bayar¡¯s body.

    And she succeeded. She succeeded only to see herself lying on her back, with the sky above, which had already cleared from the dark clouds a moment ago.

    Someone shouted from the arena, and a shadow fell over his eyes. Two guards stood over him. One had a spear aimed at him, and the other was laughing. The one with the spear stopped it just before his throat and said something.

    ¡°Bayar?¡±

    Behind them, a soft female voice was heard. Both guards turned, and before Bayar stood the gentle, black-haired girl¡ªThalia. The girl extended her hand toward him.

    ¡°No, milady.¡± One of the female guards stopped her, extending her hand to lift Bayar. She was a strong woman.

    Once again, excitement surged through Jasmin.

    She woke up again and couldn¡¯t fall back asleep. Her breathing was heavy and rapid. She clenched her fists and sat up in bed. She looked at her wheelchair. There was nothing she could do. All that was left was to wait. That¡¯s what she had done for most of her life.

 Selene

    Ivora was the most beautiful. A red dress, brown eyes, white face. She stood close to her, and Selene could feel her gentle touch and even her scent. Did she smell of lavender? Or perhaps mint? She had never quite learned to distinguish the scent of herbs. But it was fresh. Her hand trembled slightly, which was normal. Selene was also nervous, but as a queen, it shouldn''t show.

    On her other side stood Valeris. Tall and dressed like a boy, as always. But despite that, she was beautiful. A pity she didn¡¯t show it more often. She had prepared a dress for her, perfectly fitted, but Valeris wasn¡¯t one for dresses, and whenever she had the chance, she would slip away to avoid wearing one. She had done the same now. Selene didn¡¯t hold it against her; that was just how she was.

    Thalia, petite and innocent, dressed in white again, with parts of her hair braided, stood beside Ivora, also trying to appear as a worthy lady. She was proud of all three.

    Fenris and Rat were somewhere in the line as well. Both old men disliked crowds, but at moments like this, they had to be here. And these were all her closest people. Except for Jasmin. But she probably didn¡¯t want to be here. She was comfortable in that hole of hers.

    The women living in Meihar and around it had also come to greet the guests. Selene loved to see this crowd of fiery hair. It reminded her of a field of grass. But not green, a red grass field through which anyone would give anything to pass and touch the flowers. Red was the symbol of blood; blood was the symbol of life, and women gave life its beginning. That¡¯s why there were no men here. Some could be seen in the crowd, but they were too few, and most of them tried not to draw attention.

    The last time Selene had attended something similar was before the last Great Battle. Everyone had lined up in a similar manner, except back then, her mother, Lira, was in her place, and her sister sat in her wheelchair next to her. That was one of the first days Jasmin had her chair, from which she had not risen since. Not that she could, anyway.

    Those were also some of Selene¡¯s first memories. She vaguely remembered Severin, then already a grown youth, waiting to take power from his father, something that happened shortly after. Severin walked confidently in every step of his father, the old king Oberon, and never left his side. And while she loved to run through the gardens and play, Severin looked majestic, serious, and, as her mother said, ¡°regal.¡± Just like his father. Severin also had a younger sister, who had not come then, and later rumors surfaced that she had drowned in the Western Sea. No one confirmed it, but nothing more was said about her. So Selene didn¡¯t ask.

    She, her girls, and everyone else in the kingdom had stood under the scorching Sun, not taking their eyes off the horizon. No one spoke. They were facing north, and ahead, from the fields that connected Volkar and Meihar, the figures of their first guests were already visible.

    At the front rode a strong and tall figure, wearing a helmet. The rider¡¯s horse was black and approaching at a light trot. Just behind him, on a gray horse, rode another man, slightly leaner but also tall. However, he wasn¡¯t wearing a helmet. He had black hair, not very long, and was slightly tanned. Father and son. That¡¯s what Selene thought. She knew Severin had two sons. Something told her that this was the elder one. Probably Bromir.

    For a moment, she looked around. In this kingdom of women, the arrival of two large and strong men was somewhat dangerous. Almost everyone around her held their breath and stared. She could feel only Ivora¡¯s nervousness, who was closest to her. She took her hand until she felt her calm down. Then she let go. They shouldn¡¯t appear too close in front of the guests.

    A group of about five riders increased their pace and caught up with the two in front. Two of the group held flags with crests on them. The crest was the two wolves with raised front paws. She didn¡¯t like their beautiful falcon to be displayed everywhere they went and didn¡¯t understand why others did it either. But she somewhat excused them. And they were men. All men liked to mark their territories.

    Valeris, as the commander of her army, signaled with her hand, and three riders headed towards them. None of them carried a flag with the crest as their guests from Volkar did. And that was proper. Their three riders wore helmets under which their red hair fell. They were also women. But they were certainly better than all of Volkar¡¯s men. Despite them being men.

    She again felt Ivora¡¯s touch. Her slight trembling again showed she was nervous. Selene smiled. She felt like a mother to all three of them, but sometimes one of them needed more attention. Now it was Ivora.

    Their three riders reached those from Volkar. In the distance, their guests bowed, and the riders did the same. They waited for them to proceed first, lined up around them, and headed toward them together. That was the tradition, and that¡¯s how it was done when a noble guest, as they certainly were, was expected.

    Selene, Thalia, Ivora, Rat, and Fenris stood still and waited. None of them moved. Only the noise from the movement of the red-haired residents of the capital, standing around their beautiful garden, interrupted the silence. A light breeze kissed her face and hid somewhere behind Selene¡¯s hair. Her back shivered. She had taken care to wear her best red dress, which blended with the color of her hair and the freckles on her face, which always blushed more when she was nervous about something.

    Just before they approached, all the riders, except for the two main ones in front, moved aside and left the first ones to come alone. Ivora lightly tapped her foot. She had noticed that she did this when she was nervous. She expected Thalia to be more anxious than her, but she was wrong. Thalia stood there and even smiled with her most practiced smile.

    The larger one removed his helmet. He bore no resemblance to the boy she remembered from the last time. He looked exactly like a king, as every one of his kind should. His armor was light, and his armor began at his neck, descending over his shoulders and down to the fingers, which gripped the horse¡¯s reins firmly. Behind the armor was a royal black cloak, on which the crests of his kingdom were displayed again. The horse was of eastern breeds, its coat soft, and down towards the hooves, it became fluffier and denser.

    His young companion had similar attire, only much lighter, and apart from the lack of a helmet, the armor on his arms ended at the wrists. The lower part of his body was also freer. Both wore long and heavy swords at their thighs. Such swords were rarely seen in Meihar. Here, they were used only in training and by the young girls. But most later chose the spear. The spear was lighter and more convenient for the female hand. And it looked more elegant. Not that they couldn¡¯t use swords. They could, but it wasn¡¯t their thing.

    Severin was the first to step forward. Like a true lord, he walked past all of them who were waiting for him and bowed his head slightly while standing on his horse. He stopped only when he reached Selene.

    ¡°Lady Selene!¡±

    Severin took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. This was not a custom accepted among them, which made some of the women watching from afar gasp. Others laughed, and some even called out. Selene didn¡¯t stop him. He was free to act according to his beliefs. Severin greeted Thalia, Ivora, and Valeris in turn, doing the same with each. He only shook hands with Rat and Fenris. His heavy paw completely covered their small hands, which had never held a sword.

    The boy with him repeated his actions. He shook hands with Fenris and Rat, while before each of the ladies, he personally bowed. He kissed none of their hands. This slightly confused Selene. She didn¡¯t expect it. He lingered the longest before Thalia. Everyone liked her, which was normal, but she still felt a bit jealous. The boy finally reached her and did the same as his father, only bowing more deeply. He had been taught all the manners. But his gaze. His gaze wasn¡¯t pure. She could recognize it, and now she wasn¡¯t mistaken. He was smiling, he was happy, but his eyes. There was something in his eyes.

    ¡°Lady Selene, you have become a true beauty.¡±

    It felt nice to hear, but what did Severin expect her to reply? Didn¡¯t he know that here it wasn¡¯t quite acceptable to hear compliments from men to women? Why was he doing it? Had he forgotten or was he provoking her?

    ¡°And who is this young man with you?¡± Selene tried to change the subject. ¡°Bromir or Borin?¡±

    Severin looked at his son and smiled. Selene hoped she had managed to impress him with the names of his sons. She remembered them.

    ¡°This is Bromir, Queen. My eldest son.¡±

    ¡°He looks like you, Severin. Should we expect Prince Borin to come too?¡±

    Severin rested his hands on the hilt of his sword and looked away from her eyes.

    ¡°Borin? Hardly. He loves ships. And now he¡¯s on one. He set sail with them. You probably won¡¯t see him soon. He¡¯s not into royal matters. He prefers to travel.¡±

    ¡°Just like your sister.¡± She slipped. She shouldn¡¯t have mentioned her name. It was both a mistake and an opportunity to see how Severin would react. His face changed. He looked at the ground, then raised his gaze to her.

    ¡°Yes, like Liora.¡±

    ¡°This is Ivora.¡± Selene pulled herself out of the awkward situation and pointed to the lady standing next to her. Ivora smiled, and Severin¡¯s face changed too. Selene felt relieved.

    ¡°Ivora? Nice name. Strange,¡± he turned to her again, ¡°As far as I know, you don¡¯t have a daughter, Queen. And these ladies are as beautiful as you. All three of them.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t tell if Severin was trying to compliment her or if he really didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°These are my three first ladies¡ªIvora, Thalia, and Valeris. The second one is Valeris.¡± Selene pointed to Valeris, who was standing alone, slightly apart from the others. ¡°Valeris was the first to greet you. She is in charge of my entire army of fiery hair. She was the best warrior this kingdom ever had.¡±

    Severin looked her over.

    ¡°You mean to say this is your warrior? It¡¯s a pleasure to meet her.¡±

    ¡°No. She might have been a warrior, but she got injured. That¡¯s a story I can tell you later. Now she is just one of my ladies. The strongest, but also beautiful. A rare combination.¡±

    Severin looked around. He seemed to have just realized that everyone around him had red hair. He was inspecting most of them one by one.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already met Ivora,¡± Selene continued, bringing him back to the conversation. ¡°And next to her is Thalia.¡±

    ¡°Finally, a girl with a more normal hair color.¡± Severin laughed. Selene smiled at his joke but didn¡¯t like it. She expected more from a king, not empty words and jokes.

    ¡°We expected more people to come. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised there are so few of you. All the rooms in the kingdom are ready for you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true I¡¯ve put on weight in recent years.¡± He grabbed his stomach, which wasn¡¯t large at all for his build. ¡°But all the rooms? One will suffice for me. Still, thank you for your hospitality.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve heard you¡¯re leading an army.¡± Selene continued to cover what needed to be said.

    ¡°I am, Queen. But the army is on the royal road.¡± Severin pointed with his hand. Selene knew where the main road was. Part of it was under her domain. ¡°I thought you¡¯d understand when someone passes through there.¡±

    ¡°Apparently, no one has passed yet. Otherwise, we would have known.¡± With almost every word, he tried to hurt her. It wasn¡¯t intentional, and she recognized these tactics. It was normal for any noble lord, when speaking to another, to do so.

    Severin looked surprised in that direction as if he could see through the hill.

    ¡°My troops should already be down south. Bromir and I will join them later, after we talk with you.¡±

    ¡°I know why you¡¯ve come, King Severin. You want reinforcements, but...¡±

    ¡°Selene!¡± Severin stopped her. He was addressing her by name. She did the same sometimes. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to have this conversation inside, in a more comfortable place, and over a glass of wine. The further south one goes, the sweeter the wine. Or so I¡¯ve heard.¡± Severin smiled. It was strange to see such a large man smile. ¡°And if your wine is truly good, I¡¯ll leave tomorrow morning with pleasure.¡±

    ¡°If you like the wine, you¡¯ll leave? That¡¯s strange.¡±

    ¡°Wine gives me strength.¡±

    Selene didn¡¯t continue. What he was saying was strange, and it didn¡¯t suit such a big man to speak so kindly. She imagined the great rulers of lands, as he was, behaving more arrogantly and proudly. Severin seemed too soft to her. She hoped she was wrong. Her mother had once told her that kingdoms needed lords with iron legs and iron hearts. In recent years, she had begun to understand the meaning of this more. And Lira, her mother, had been right. As always.

    On the one hand, she was relieved that they wouldn¡¯t have to host them for long. She didn¡¯t like having strangers here. Especially men she hadn¡¯t invited. But the Pact obliged her. And not only the Pact but also morality.

    On the other hand, she felt slightly offended. All these preparations for just one night? So much food and expenses, which normally would last at least ten days for the entire kingdom. And in the end, Severin had come only with his son and five of his people. And for just one night. She looked at Fenris and saw his gaze in return. He didn¡¯t seem pleased either. Or at least she thought so. But on the other hand, these were still men. And the longer men stayed in the kingdom, the more dangerous it became for this place full of women. Not that they would do anything, but she knew her women, who rarely saw a man, and if a passing one was a bit more attractive, they would fight over him. This female instinct sometimes did them a great disservice, but more often, it helped them. It made the women more nervous and fierce, ready to fight. If a man managed to extinguish the fire in them, they became calm and lazy. And she didn¡¯t want that.

    Selene looked for Valeris, then signaled to her. She, in turn, turned to the red-haired riders, who, without waiting long, began to push back the spectators and the crowd, starting to expand the perimeter around them.

    Fenris and Rat were already gone. They didn¡¯t like such things and had used the first convenient moment to retreat. The kingdom¡¯s stablemen took over the horses of Bromir and Severin.

    Selene stood at the entrance of her large castle and waited for the two large men from Volkar to approach. Ivora and Thalia stood obediently beside her. Bromir smiled at Thalia again. Now she was truly glad they were staying only for this evening.

    If you didn¡¯t count Fenris and Rat, and a few people from the staff, having a new man enter here was strange, even for her. She felt fear, even though she knew these two had nothing to do to them. She had slight concerns about Bromir, but not about Severin.

    From afar, the sound of a horn was heard. Everyone briefly turned their eyes there. Selene saw Severin¡¯s surprised face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry; they are gathering the young women. The tournament of the contenders will start soon.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. I have people on the main road. Such sounds usually predict danger.¡± He turned his gaze to her again. ¡°What contenders are you talking about?¡±

    Perhaps she shouldn¡¯t have told him. Every man, when he heard about battles and weapons, his eyes changed, and his soul began to burn.

    ¡°Every year, we hold a tournament where young girls can prove themselves before their commanders and me. And in your honor, we¡¯ve held it a bit earlier than planned. Of course, if you wish.¡±

    He certainly did. She could see it in his eyes. And in his smile. That smile of his, which didn¡¯t suit him at all.

    ¡°Why are we talking about wine and stories then? Where there are weapons, there am I.¡±

    She knew this idea would appeal to him. That¡¯s why she had done it. In these times, to soften a man, you either had to give him a weapon or open your legs. And she wouldn¡¯t do the latter for him. Although, she hadn¡¯t embraced such a strong man in a long time.

    Thick clouds had gathered over Meihar. And the clouds brought rain. The rain washed the streets of the sand carried by the summer winds coming from the south and sent people back to their homes. In these places, rain wasn¡¯t unusual, but it passed quickly. And it was the same now. And now the clouds had just gathered, and thunder was striking nearby, somewhere in the Western Sea.

    They were seated at the highest point of the stands, side by side like a man and a woman. As if they were king and queen. From time to time, Selene felt uncomfortable with his presence. To her right sat Valeris. Valeris had the greatest right and duty to be at the battles. She was the commander. Even her presence was more important than that of Selene or Severin. If it were up to her, she would have placed her at the top. Everyone down in the arena admired her. Well, almost everyone. Only Eliana didn¡¯t like her. But that would pass too. Just two more years. She looked at Valeris. Her hand was on her leg. Where her scar was. She knew it hurt. It always hurt in such weather. It was humid, and the humidity intensified the pain. She could see the fear in her eyes too. She could almost read her thoughts with her gaze. She looked guilty because of the last time. It was the second day of the battles. The day before, she had expelled Freya because of her. Now Valeris had to defend her decision.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    She remembered her mother. She was one of the first to die from the sand sickness. And then the disease had taken her four sisters too. Only Valeris had survived, and the disease hadn¡¯t affected her at all. No one knew how the sand sickness chose its victims. But it had come from the wildlings. From the South. And it affected only Meihar and Solis. She remembered it because she was young, but not too young to not understand the panic. Most of the kingdom had lost its life. She still remembered how the skin of the sick would melt. First, their eyes would turn red. Then their skin would become rough like soil that hadn¡¯t seen water in years. And finally, it would just start to crumble from the body. And the pain wasn¡¯t strong in the first two days. But on the third, no skin was left, and everyone¡¯s insides began to show. And almost no one endured until the end of the third day. How this disease left the city, no one understood. But it left the same way it had come.

    She had lied to Severin. The contender battles didn¡¯t happen once a year, nor had she brought it forward because of him. In fact, they often did it, mostly because of Eliana. She didn¡¯t want him here. It wasn¡¯t a good idea for Severin to see how Eliana fought, and she had arranged everything so that he wouldn¡¯t find out. But the stupid horn and its sound ruined that. Not that he wouldn¡¯t find out later, but if he had already drunk, he wouldn¡¯t care about it. She knew men, even though she hadn¡¯t had much contact with them lately.

    To Severin¡¯s left sat Bromir. To be honest, he looked better than his father, and his gaze was more warrior-like, tougher, and more authoritative. However, his gaze didn¡¯t fall on the arena like everyone else¡¯s. His gaze wandered over the stands, where all were women and all had red hair. Most of them, especially those closer, also often turned to look at him. She knew what those harlots were thinking. They wanted him. They were ready to betray everything the city had taught them just to have him. Most smiled at him, winked, and then saw her. And when they looked at her, they didn¡¯t turn back. In other cases, she would have punished them, but now she would embarrass herself before Severin.

    ¡°Is this your Eliana, Lady Selene?¡± Severin pointed forward. Selene knew his first task would be to look for her.

    ¡°Yes, my lord. She has a personal commander,¡± Selene pointed her out, ¡°Freya.¡±

    ¡°Our Tristan also has a commander, though our warrior does whatever he wants. He¡¯s so strong that no one can stop him. I even thought of taking him with me to the wildlings. A bit of wildling meat would do him good.¡±

    Selene didn¡¯t reply. It was normal for him to boast, and he was probably exaggerating. Men often exaggerated. In his place, she would have done the same. But now he saw Eliana for himself. And soon, he could judge for himself.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ve come mainly to see Eliana?¡±

    Severin turned to her. He didn¡¯t think so, but she said it to see his true intentions.

    ¡°Not at all, Lady Selene. I didn¡¯t even know Eliana would fight. I would even understand if you had refused us to come here. I¡¯m here for something else, but I prefer to talk about it later.¡±

    Selene didn¡¯t reply. And what was happening down in the arena drew all the attention.

    The smallest circle, the battles were about to begin with the smallest ones, was surrounded by red-haired children. All of them were with their commanders, scattered around. The rain was washing their faces, their fiery hair stuck to their faces, water dripped from each of them. But none of them flinched. She always shivered at such sights. Because they did it for her. Not exactly for her, but for the kingdom. And usually, even now, it could be seen who would become a great warrior and who would wither early and return to their parents, never to touch a weapon again. The event was large, and the entire capital gathered around. Besides the stands, there were people in the vicinity, with everyone trying to find a place to watch.

    Ivora and Thalia were gone. The two didn¡¯t care for the blood spilled in the arena, and she had allowed them to walk along the market street. Although most people were here today, it was also a day for trade, and merchants from other cities of the Meihar lands had occupied the empty spots and spread out wide rugs covered with various items, books, souvenirs, and crafts. Fenris and Rat, on the other hand, had stayed in the kingdom.

    The red hair of much of the Meihar population had turned the stands red. But their beautiful hair had been ruined by the rain. The arena was almost filled, and the sand had become heavy, sticking to the bare feet of the fighters. The little ones would go first. When the first ones stepped out, Severin leaned on his heavy chair and lifted himself. He could see that he liked the sight. All men felt this before a fight or intercourse with a woman. He was no different from them. A wild beast like all the rest.

    In front of the circle, there were wooden racks, each holding wooden swords, arranged in a row of about twenty.

    ¡°Wooden swords?¡±

    Did Severin really ask her this? Couldn¡¯t he figure it out himself?

    ¡°The goal is technique, not strength.¡±

    ¡°We give our children real swords. Whoever can get used to them becomes a warrior. Whoever can¡¯t... Well, there¡¯s a place under the Sun for everyone.¡±

    She didn¡¯t reply. Instead, she continued to enjoy herself. She loved every single one of the little girls who fought with the wooden swords. There was so much fire in them. Not just in their hair, but in their bodies, their eyes, and their hearts.

    Two little girls, no taller than two large barrels, were the first to step into the arena. The rain had lessened, but it was still drizzling lightly. The first one pulled out one of the swords and gazed at its wooden blade as if seeing her reflection in it. She was imitating the real warriors. Applause and light cheers followed. Everyone was delighted by the little ones, and they weren¡¯t nervous. Quite the opposite. One of them approached the audience and bowed, provoking even stronger applause. The other went and did the same. The applause was even louder. The crowd knew that the first battles of the smallest ones were for fun and just a show before the real ones. But for Valeris and the other commanders, this wasn¡¯t the case. For them, it was important to sift the children even now. And for the children, it was important to give their best when Valeris was here. And when she was here.

    Selene looked around the crowd. You could always tell who the mothers of the smallest candidate warriors were. They were always the loudest and always stood ready to jump into the arena instead of them. Valeris wanted to ban women from supporting their children once they entered to become fighters, but Selene wouldn¡¯t allow it. When they were small, they needed their parents. But Valeris wanted to make fighters out of them, and she wanted even these to be well-trained. She wanted to create fighters, and sometimes that desire made her blind. But the truth was that those down there were just children.

    ¡°A speech from the Queen!¡± Someone down below shouted. She didn¡¯t want it to come to this, but she expected it. She stood up and saw that all eyes were on her. She hated that.

    ¡°Another contender¡¯s battle. And today we have dear guests from Volkar. And before their eyes and mine, the strongest will fight, from the smallest to the most deserving. Show that your red hair doesn¡¯t just make you beautiful; red hair is the color of the fire that burns within you. Show me and my guests that each of you is no less than any of them.¡± She looked at Severin. He wasn¡¯t offended. ¡°Show that when Florentina decided that men wouldn¡¯t rule here, she wasn¡¯t wrong. Show that you are the most deserving.¡±

    For a moment, there was silence. Then the crowd began to scream. Selene sat down smoothly.

    ¡°A nice speech. Although I don¡¯t agree with a lot of things.¡±

    She smiled. But she didn¡¯t look at Severin. She didn¡¯t care what he would say about her speech. She was just watching her people, her blood. They were more important to her. And suddenly everyone fell silent. They fell silent because the first two children were already facing each other.

    Their movements were good, but their strikes were weak. They held the wooden swords correctly and bent their wrists well under their weight, but when they had to wrap their fingers a bit more around the hilt, their wrists couldn¡¯t take it, and the swords hung slightly in the air. The crowd gradually began to increase the strength of their cheers.

    Someone shouted at one of the children. It seemed startled, turned around, and didn¡¯t see the other had already swung the wooden sword at it. The frightened girl returned her gaze, but it was too late. The sword hit her in the face. A loud roar and shouts followed. Selene wasn¡¯t sure if they came from the mothers or the fallen child. She saw the first drops of blood in the arena. The little girl on the ground was moving, her hand on her face. And it was covered in blood. Selene stood still, seemingly controlling everything in the arena with her gaze. Two of the healers quickly rushed to the child. Both were in long gray robes with covered heads. The other girl¡¯s hand was raised high, and with the other, she wiped her tears. They were still so fragile, and soon they would face the next level.

    The injured girl was carried out in arms. Her face was covered in blood. The other cried beside her. But she had won. Selene looked at Valeris. She had stood up, raising her thumb approvingly to the winner below. The winner was crying. But she shouldn¡¯t have been. Selene knew how Valeris thought. Valeris respected winners, and they had to be tough. No one else stood up. Most looked at the wounded below.

    The arena was cleared, and the next two girls quickly arrived. In appearance, they were the same, which wasn¡¯t unusual in Meihar. And usually, the battles ended quickly. The children had no tactics or a vast repertoire of moves. No one had taught them that. It was only important to attack and defend. And the winner was the braver one. What they didn¡¯t know yet or couldn¡¯t realize was that all of them would advance to the next arena. And none would be eliminated here. But for the braver ones, the commanders would keep an eye on them. Bravery came with the person; they couldn¡¯t be taught it. And most of the braver ones moved to the third arena, where the sieve was larger.

    ¡°The little ones are amusing,¡± Severin was pleased. ¡°You¡¯ve thought it through well. We don¡¯t show ourselves to the people that much.¡±

    ¡°Are you afraid of prying eyes, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no.¡± He answered without looking at her. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s anyone¡¯s business to know what level our army is at. But I¡¯m sure nothing can stop someone if they¡¯re determined to infiltrate if they want to. You probably have such people too.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no logic for us to have them. We are open. We have women who fight. Our training is visible, their strength too. And I can assure you, Eliana is better than Astrid.¡±

    ¡°Astrid? I vaguely remember Astrid, but I know there was a lot of talk about her. And everyone underestimated her.¡±

    ¡°You always do. You always underestimate the female strength and the female warrior.¡±

    ¡°In the end, she didn¡¯t win the great battle, so perhaps there was a reason. You¡¯ve never won the battle.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯re getting better. And after you see Eliana, you¡¯ll surely be a bit more uneasy on your way back to Volkar.¡±

    Severin didn¡¯t answer further. And in the arena, all the preparations were ready, the children¡¯s victors had been rewarded, and the losers consoled. The wooden swords and shields disappeared. The children too. And in their place, the second groups, who were also young but stronger than the previous ones and more like women, though still young, stepped in.

    ¡°At our place, at this age, they are already married and bearing fruit and continuing the lineage.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad, my lord. But in Meihar, the laws and tradition are different.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend you.¡± Severin tried to look at her, but again fixed his gaze on the arena. ¡°Understand me, Queen, it¡¯s just strange for us. The men in our place, and all to the North, see a woman as a woman. As what she was created for, to bear a man¡¯s offspring.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better not to speak like this in the rest of Meihar, my lord. And I prefer to change the subject.¡±

    The rain had already stopped, and the Sun was trying to break through the thinning clouds. At least the humidity had disappeared, but the temperatures were rising, and soon the sultriness would return. All twenty-six contenders among the young women lined up before the Queen and bowed one after another to Selene. Selene waved back shyly. Valeris looked at her. But not with that gaze of admiration or even joy. She caught a slight note of envy in her face. Yes, they were on her territory, but Selene was still the Queen.

    Each of the girls in the arena was already better dressed than the previous ones, with her style and weapon. Each had a different way of tying her hair, a different stance, and looked different. They had grown up and had nothing in common with the children who had fought before them.

    The first pair was already facing each other. Both wore helmets and light armor, just enough to protect against more severe injuries.

    The two girls were already fighting. One had chosen a spear, the other had a sword, which was no longer wooden. They were slender and had beautiful forms. The battles, once more amusing with the children, had now become intriguing. That¡¯s why the crowd cheered after every unsuccessful strike or block. But the cheers didn¡¯t distract the girls. Neither of them flinched.

    The first battle was always the most interesting, and that¡¯s why people paid the most attention to it. And with each subsequent one, the interest died down a bit. But the battles weren¡¯t for the crowd. They were needed by Valeris and her. The contenders down there knew this and gave their all.

    Most of the winners were those with swords. Two of them won with spears, and two had chosen bows, but after being forbidden due to the safety of Severin and Selene, they still chose to fight with daggers. And both had won. And unlike the children, there were no serious injuries here. One of the girls managed to sprain her knee, but even on one leg, she won. That was the most interesting moment of all and was first called up to the higher level, where the best were. The best, who were soon to come out and fight.

    The defeated had a choice¡ªeither stay to train the little ones entering after them or join the regular army. Usually, they chose the latter, pressured to do so by the commanders of each unit.

    ¡°I must admit, the girls in the second arena performed very well. And they¡¯re so young¡­¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯re girls,¡± Selene added. ¡°That¡¯s what you wanted to say, right?¡±

    ¡°Look, Lady Selene, if you think I¡¯m trying to offend you, that¡¯s not it at all. I really admire and acknowledge your fighting strength. And after all, that¡¯s one of the reasons I came.¡±

    ¡°So you finally spit it out. You want my warriors for your battles with the wildlings.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t come mainly for that, but I really don¡¯t want to discuss it here. And yes. That was also part of my plan.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t give them to you with great pleasure, Severin, but according to the agreement among the five, I¡¯m obliged. And I trust the Pact.¡±

    ¡°Believe me, if you ever need them¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, my lord. The only battle I¡¯m interested in is the one in two years. Nothing else matters to me, and I don¡¯t plan to spill unnecessary blood.¡±

    Someone shouted down below. It was the women who were preparing the ladies for the most interesting and eagerly awaited battles. Selene stood up. She always did so before the last part. Seeing her, Valeris stood up as well, and then the entire crowd. Severin was on his feet too.

    The six best contenders were in the arena. Above them was only Eliana. And the six were the only ones who could challenge her to a fight and take her place. Or take her place if something happened to her. But that had never happened. It probably wouldn¡¯t happen now either.

    Selene looked at Valeris. Once, she was there. She was even being prepared for the next warrior. And maybe now she would be in Eliana¡¯s place if it weren¡¯t for her injury. She deserved it, but Selene was glad she hadn¡¯t gone. She liked that she was close to her.

    ¡°The first two are Rena and Tara,¡± she told Severin. She was thinking of giving him exactly these six. Yes, it was risky to send her best warriors with him, but it was a gift for them. Letting them into a real battle was something exciting for them. Especially since they would probably never displace Eliana.

    Severin just nodded approvingly. And the battle below had already begun.

    Tara won and inflicted a huge wound on Rena¡¯s thigh. The wound was bleeding even through her pants, but it couldn¡¯t compare to Valeris¡¯s from before. Rena would likely recover. And she could step on her leg, which was more important. Tara defeated her with a spear, which she then planted in the ground and cheered, taking up the crowd. She had the darkest red hair of all, and her hair almost turned black. It was believed here that the shade of the hair indicated the character of the woman in the kingdom. And those with dark red hair like Tara showed how fiery they were.

    ¡°Zephira and Oriana,¡± Selene pointed again. She wondered when Severin would realize that she was preparing to give them to him for the battle with the wildlings. He nodded again and said nothing.

    Both ladies had bows, which was particularly dangerous in duels where it was advisable that no one got hurt. For that purpose, both wore additional breastplates that deflected the arrows, and the arrows themselves were entirely made of wood. Their flight was altered, which hindered accurate aiming, but when two such faced each other, duels usually ended with the small knives they carried as auxiliary weapons.

    The duel lasted long. They hit each other, but not so seriously that they hesitated. And as always in bow fights, it came down to knives. Oriana was more agile, while Zephira waited for her. And just when one gained the upper hand, the other attacked again. Even the crowd held its breath, and this had become one of the quietest battles of the day. And the Sun had already fully risen, drying the sand on their bare feet.

    Zephira was the first to tire, and Oriana, seemingly with her last strength, managed to press her blade to her throat. She whispered something in her ear that no one heard, but then both of their legs buckled, and they fell to the ground, exhausted from the humidity that filled their lungs and the lack of water. The healers came for the second time.

    ¡°Who won?¡±

    Selene wasn¡¯t sure, but she still answered him.

    ¡°Oriana.¡±

    At that moment, one of the commanders¡ªa woman with red hair¡ªannounced Oriana¡¯s name. The crowd erupted. But both were lying exhausted. Shortly after their faces were sprinkled with water, they stood. Oriana raised her hands in victory and roused the crowd once more.

    ¡°Melis and Helia,¡± Selene introduced the third pair.

    Severin looked at her. Perhaps he had finally realized. Then he squinted his eyes and turned again to the arena.

    Melis and Helia had swords, but the battle wasn¡¯t starting. Helia was holding her arm and trying to fight, but the healers quickly stopped her. One of the commanders almost immediately raised Melis¡¯s hand.

    Powerful angry shouts came from the stands. From somewhere, all kinds of objects, accompanied by vegetables and everything that was at hand, flew. Helia bent down and began to throw back everything thrown from the stands with her healthy hand. The stands became even more hostile. Two women tried to enter the arena, but they were met with the swords of the warriors around. One of them received a blow to the face, grabbed it, and fell to the sand. The other retreated on her own.

    Helia took her sword, pushed the healer aside, and prepared for battle. Melis smiled and stepped forward too.

    Melis circled around her, shifting her sword from one hand to the other. She watched her, slightly bending her knees. Helia held the sword with her healthy hand, but the pain was written on her face. Selene could see it was tormenting her.

    The crowd was shouting. They wanted a duel. Melis attacked and with one blow knocked the sword out of Helia¡¯s hand. Her second slash went past her ear, and despite her retreat, part of her ear fell into the sand. Helia grabbed the cut place with her hand and tried not to scream. But she couldn¡¯t. Melis continued and attacked again. She swung, but her sword was stopped.

    It was stopped by Eliana¡¯s spear.

    Eliana was much stronger than Melis, and despite the desire and malice in the latter¡¯s eyes, her warrior didn¡¯t let go. She decided to wait a little longer before intervening. But Valeris didn¡¯t think that way.

    ¡°Drop your sword, Melis,¡± Valeris¡¯s voice rose above the entire stand.

    Melis looked at her, then at Eliana. But she didn¡¯t drop the sword.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything foolish, Melis.¡±

    Melis stepped back, knelt, and bowed her head to Eliana.

    The crowd started booing again. Yes, they wanted a spectacle, but they weren¡¯t right.

    Selene saw Valeris. Her lady was descending into the arena. She hoped it would all be over. She looked at Severin. He did nothing, but Bromir was smiling contentedly. She didn¡¯t like him. There was something about him.

    Valeris reached the arena. Eliana was holding her spear and had placed it on Melis¡¯s throat. Exactly what shouldn¡¯t have happened.

    The crowd started shouting again. They wanted her to kill her. Valeris drew her sword and headed toward Eliana.

    ¡°Kill her!¡± Another shout from somewhere. Eliana looked at the stands and smiled. She was ready to do it.

    Valeris limped and threateningly advanced toward her with a sword in hand. Eliana finally saw her. She smiled and waited. Just before she arrived, she kicked Helia and pushed her aside. Valeris was now beside her, raised her sword, but Eliana attacked first. She was more agile and certainly more experienced. Valeris managed to defend herself. The entire crowd was on its feet. Everyone seemed to know it would come to this sooner or later. But it was a mistake. It was a mistake for them to fight.

    Eliana smiled while against her, Valeris was rather disgracing herself. She could fight, but her leg was hindering her. She could feel the pain through her. Selene knew what she felt. But she had made a mistake. From the side, Freya was rejoicing. She was happy that soon Eliana might injure Valeris. Or even kill her.

    She had to stop them. Selene could also stop them, but she would make a fool of herself in front of Severin. There was no right move. And even if Valeris won, her warrior would be disgraced. She didn¡¯t know what to do. She had rarely felt this way. She tried to remember another case and couldn¡¯t.

    And Valeris surprised everyone, even herself, with the very first move. And as if Eliana didn¡¯t expect it and suffered a wound on her leg from Valeris¡¯s spear. This surprised her, but it also made her smile. The people started shouting as if they were on her side. Selene knew them. They weren¡¯t on anyone¡¯s side. They just wanted death.

    ¡°In the name of Queen Selene, stop!¡±

    The voice was male, strong, deep, and frightening. The crowd froze, and everyone around looked back at them. Valeris immediately dropped her sword, and Eliana left the spear beside her and fell to her knee. Both were looking up. At the topmost steps of the arena. Where Severin was.

    And he was right, with his sword drawn, and he had pointed it at them.

    It was one of the few times she could admit that sometimes male strength was necessary.

 IGOR

    First, he heard the drops, falling one by one somewhere nearby. Then, after the sound, he felt their gentle spray on his face. He heard his mother''s voice, telling him to get out of the barn before his father woke up and found him drunk, asleep next to their cow. It was raining outside. For a long time after he woke up, he thought it was real, that his mother had just left. But there was no way she could have left, because he wasn''t in a barn, nor was the cow beside him. He was under something like a shelter they had made the previous night from branches and leaves. This shelter was letting all the rain that fell during the night seep through. And he wasn¡¯t at home. He was somewhere between Chernoval and nowhere, in a forest, and the memories began to return one by one, especially after he heard Ivanek and Stepan snoring beside him.

    The rum seemed to have reached his brain, crashing like waves inside it. He hadn¡¯t always liked drinking, especially after seeing the drunks sleeping on the streets of Chernoval. Back then, he had promised himself he would never become like them. But he had, and since he¡¯d been on the street, he drank constantly. He had stopped for a while in the smithy, but now, with Vasily, Ivanek, and Stepan, he had started again.

    The rum surged in his head like waves crashing against the sides of his brain. He felt the light rain on his back, but it wasn¡¯t the rain that bothered him, it was the pain in his head. The memories of the previous night began to return. He remembered Clarice and Fabian. Vasily and Ivanek. He also remembered how, drunk, they had built the shelter just before the Sun rose, and the alcohol had made them so cheerful that it was a wonder they hadn¡¯t attracted some wild animal or even an enemy passing by. He didn¡¯t know how long he had slept, but he felt it wasn¡¯t much. In any case, the Sun had already risen.

    The morning was fresh, fresh from the rain that had poured down during the night. But everything was wet. Clothes, shoes, even the horses¡¯ saddles. Everything was soaked. The spot where the fire had been last night was now just a puddle in which the rum bottle floated.

    Two pairs of legs were sticking out from Clarice''s tent. One was hers, with beautiful white skin smudged with wet dirt. The other pair was dirty, in torn boots, their color indistinguishable due to the moisture. But they were Vasily''s. Igor glanced back at the shelter where Stepan and Ivanek were supposed to be. They were there. The clouds were moving eastward, which meant it would soon be hot, evaporating all the water, and the air would become hard to breathe.

    Soft moans, accompanied by a quiet wail, came from the tent. Soon after, the covering at the entrance moved. A female hand emerged, followed by Clarice¡¯s beautiful face. Her hair was wet, with clumps of mud mixed in with the dripping drops. The shoulders of her lacy blue dress were also dirty, and her red hair clung to her entire face. She was beautiful even in this state.

    Without thinking, Clarice plunged her hands into the mud, propped herself up on them, and stood face to face with Igor. Igor didn¡¯t move. Clarice placed her hands on his shoulders and wiped her dirty hands on him. There was nothing he could say, and he was so dirty that it probably wouldn¡¯t make him any worse.

    ¡°It¡¯d be good to wake your man. He reeks of rum,¡± Clarice pointed to the tent.

    There was no need. Vasily had already woken up and was standing next to them with his famous smile, which Igor always found hard to read¡ªwhether it was from joy or just a cover for his bad character.

    ¡°King of the Mud!¡± she mocked, without caring about the mud on her face. ¡°You could have not set the wagon they were taking me to Chernoval in on fire. At least we could have sheltered from the rain. You give the impression of being smart, but you¡¯re not.¡± Clarice was genuinely angry.

    ¡°With the wagon, we¡¯d attract more attention,¡± Vasily calmly replied, unfazed by her tone as he wiped the mud from himself. ¡°And if I see you like this every morning, it will be a joy for my heart.¡±

    Clarice glared at him with her swollen red eyes. She hated him, and he laughed in her face.

    ¡°Every morning? Kill me now and spare me the torment. I still don¡¯t understand why I¡¯m still alive with you. Honestly, I expected to be dead long ago. People like you¡­¡±

    ¡°Redhead, there are no people like us. Stop repeating that. We might be all sorts, but we know how to treat a lady.¡±

    Clarice laughed. ¡°You? Please. You want to use me for something. Where are we going? To Meihar? Solis? Shilan?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, and I¡¯ll tell you straight. At first, I did think about using you and killing you. And as for little Fabian, I would have left him in some village. I may be all sorts of things, but I don¡¯t kill children. But now, I¡¯ve decided that you¡¯re actually going to be useful to us.¡±

    ¡°For what? I¡¯m worthless. And besides, I only know someone in Chernoval.¡±

    ¡°Something tells me I¡¯ll need you. After all, we¡¯re Vanders. Magic isn¡¯t foreign to us. Or at least to those of my kin. I don¡¯t know how to do it myself.¡±

    Vasily smiled slyly, and Clarice grabbed a lock of her hair with both hands and squeezed it. A mixture of mud and water dripped to the ground. She looked at her hands with disgust and wiped them against each other.

    Clarice jumped as if something had pushed her and rushed to the tent. Almost immediately, she came out calmer.

    ¡°I told you, we don¡¯t torment little children,¡± Vasily greeted her again. ¡°The boy is asleep. He was very tired last night. And his mother got nicely drunk.¡± He laughed quietly, and Clarice grabbed her forehead as if now realizing how she had looked the night before.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have allowed it. I¡­ I was¡­¡±

    Vasily cut her off with his laughter. She glared at him so sternly that he shut his mouth, but he still looked at her with a mocking expression.

    ¡°Did you do anything to me while I was drunk?¡± she almost shouted.

    Vasily leaned over to the fire, which had died out during the night, grabbed some cold ashes with his hand, and rubbed them on his face. His face turned black like his beard, but the mud came off. He looked up at Clarice.

    ¡°Nothing, Clarice. The only thing we love more than women is rum. And if I knew you drank that much, I¡¯d never have put it in your hands.¡±

    ¡°And then? We woke up in one tent.¡± Igor saw that she was starting to worry. He found her somewhat sympathetic and a little amusing. If it were up to him, he wouldn¡¯t kill her. But he was too merciful, and the Vanders weren¡¯t like that.

    ¡°Yes. We slept together.¡± Vasily paused before continuing. He watched her face, which was just what he expected. She widened her eyes. ¡°But that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Big hero,¡± Clarice had her turn to laugh. ¡°Leader of a band of ruthless killers and fighters. And he can¡¯t take advantage of a woman. What are you? Do you like men?¡±

    ¡°The strange thing is, you asked me that last night too. And then you fell asleep.¡±

    Clarice ran her hand over her cheek, right where it was red.

    ¡°You. You hit me. Now I remember.¡±

    Igor had missed that. Apparently, they had played more while they were alone in the tent. Standing by them now, he felt like a child while they were his parents, and he had to listen to them argue.

    ¡°You were uncontrollable.¡± Vasily raised his hands. ¡°Is this the first time you¡¯ve gotten this drunk? I can¡¯t believe I have to explain myself to a stranger woman.¡±

    ¡°I hardly drink. Not this much. You must have done something to me.¡±

    Vasily just waved dismissively. Clarice stared at him, but not at him. It was as if her gaze passed through his eyes and went somewhere behind him. She was thinking about something. Mentally, she was elsewhere. Vasily interrupted her. Instead, he went and woke Ivanek and Stepan. Stepan abruptly stood up and knocked over the already barely standing shelter with his head. Ivanek pushed him as he wiped leaves and mud from his face. When they weren¡¯t strict, they were funny. The same went for Vasily.

    Fabian was awake too. The boy waded quickly through the mud and nestled into his mother¡¯s dress. He was also wet and dirty, with fear on his face.

    ¡°Vasily!¡± Ivanek shouted. ¡°How long are we going to drag her along? When have we ever had a woman with us? This isn¡¯t good, you know.¡±

    ¡°Another hothead,¡± Vasily¡¯s tone changed. ¡°Be glad we¡¯re alive today, smile at the Sun, saddle the horses, and let¡¯s go. And who lives and travels with us, leave that to me.¡±

    Ivanek lowered his head. He wasn¡¯t happy, but he kept quiet in front of Vasily. Igor couldn¡¯t afford to speak to him like that. Stepan and Ivanek were different. They were his friends.

    ¡°I know of a village nearby,¡± Vasily continued. ¡°It¡¯s not very big, but we¡¯ll find something to eat. And maybe something female, for instance.¡± Vasily glanced at Clarice. She was tending to Fabian.

    ¡°Ivanek, take Igor to help you, and tell Stepan to come to me.¡±

    Ivanek nodded and stepped back. He had barely started when voices were heard behind him. Ivanek fell silent first, and then Igor. Both looked around to see if the voices came from Vasily or little Fabian. But no. Ivanek put his finger to his lips, signaling everyone to be quiet. And anyway, no one was talking anymore. Only little Fabian stirred, but his mother crouched down and held him close.

    Mostly, they heard the birds and the creaking of the trees. Vasily motioned for everyone to crouch down, and they did. After the sound of birds and creaking branches, they heard the noise again. And it wasn¡¯t from the forest.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Igor crouched. Vasily and Clarice were in front of him, and Stepan and Ivanek were somewhere behind by the horses. One of the horses snorted. Whether that gave them away or those walking nearby had heard them earlier, he didn¡¯t know, but he heard the whistle of an arrow, which he managed to see fly past Vasily''s ears and lodge in a tree behind them.

    Soon after, a second arrow landed close to his foot.

    Everything happened so quickly that Igor remembered nothing of the moment. He only remembered Vasily grabbing Clarice and pulling her to the ground while he also crouched, and Ivanek and Stepan were nowhere to be seen. Or at least he didn¡¯t hear them. Little Fabian was quietly crying.

    ¡°Stay down!¡± Igor heard Vasily shout.

    Igor hadn¡¯t intended to do anything else.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Clarice clutched Fabian tighter to herself.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Anything you need to tell me?¡±

    ¡°Tell you? Do you think they¡¯re after me?¡±

    Vasily didn¡¯t answer her. He found his sword by hand, got up so quickly that even Igor barely sensed it, and hid behind the nearest tree. Another arrow followed him and lodged in the tree. They had seen him.

    Vasily slowly stood up and looked around, searching for the direction of the arrows. Igor got up to help him.

    ¡°Stay down, boy,¡± Vasily shouted at him, waving a hand.

    He hadn¡¯t finished speaking when a sharp pain pierced his leg. He looked down and saw the rear part of an arrow. It was sticking out of his foot. It was strange because he first felt the pain, then heard it whistle past. Igor doubled over on the ground and screamed so loudly that if those attacking them didn¡¯t know they had hit, they knew now.

    ¡°Fool!¡± Vasily yelled at him as another arrow whizzed past him. Clarice and Fabian were still lying on the ground. Vasily rushed towards the tent. Shortly after, he emerged with one of the wooden boards they had used to pad the wet ground.

    He waited for another volley of arrows to pass and moved towards Clarice. Three. Three arrows were fired simultaneously at him. And then they stopped. And again, three came. He was right; there weren¡¯t more than three people.

    Igor writhed on the ground. Once, a hot iron in the smithy had fallen on his foot. The pain then had been so intense and burning that he still remembered it. He remembered it until now because the pain from the arrow was twice as strong. His entire leg down to his ankle was numb. He sat on the ground, both terrified for his life and in such pain that he wished he could die as soon as possible.

    ¡°Pull the arrow out, fool,¡± Vasily said. ¡°And stop crying like a woman.¡±

    Vasily lay on the ground and used the wooden board to shield the prone Clarice.

    The redhead turned and grabbed the wooden board. Vasily left it and once again, under the flight of two arrows, hid behind the tree. Igor had also taken cover in a safe spot, but it was too late. He had already been hit.

    He grasped the arrow with his hand. Even from the slightest tremor of his hand, the pain seemed to shoot from his leg through his body and hit him in the head. He gritted his teeth, clenched his eyes. He tried to think of something good. But nothing came to mind. There was nothing good in his life. He wanted to die just to stop feeling such pain. Or to cut off his leg. Yes, maybe if he chopped off his leg at the ankle. The pain would be intense then too, but it would pass in a few days. But now? How to pull out the arrow?

    From somewhere, he heard another shout. He didn¡¯t know if it was from one of their own or from afar. He grabbed the arrow again. It hurt. It hurt, but he yanked it out quickly. He felt it tear through his skin, and blood started flowing from his muddy boot. It burned. It burned and throbbed. He threw the removed arrow aside.

    He leaned against the tree with his hands and stood up. He could stand on his healthy leg, and he did. More arrows flew around him. There were two.

    He peeked slightly and looked around for Stepan and Ivanek. Neither of them was there. He only saw Vasily, who looked ahead to where the arrows were coming from and occasionally glanced at Clarice. And Clarice was looking at him with a look that was both full of hatred towards him and a plea for help. Vasily didn¡¯t move. An arrow lodged in the board Clarice was holding, and she screamed. Fabian was also crying in her arms.

    ¡°Push him toward me,¡± Vasily shouted, opening his arms for Fabian.

    He wished he were a child now. To do nothing and just be saved. And besides, they usually didn¡¯t kill children.

    Clarice hesitated for a moment, then pushed the child. Vasily took a step forward and pulled him towards himself. Two more arrows whizzed between them, and one of them lodged in the tree behind which Igor was hiding. However, the third arrow came from a different angle. That surprised him. So far, they had only flown in pairs.

    He tried to look again and saw them.

    Two figures in colorful cloaks with hoods. Both held bows and, with slow steps and arrow after arrow, were approaching them. The third person was missing.

    ¡°Are you coming?¡± Vasily shouted. Most likely, he was calling Clarice, not him. But it was a good idea to go too. He didn¡¯t want to be left here. The two figures were approaching them with their bows drawn. Apparently, they had underestimated them. It was brave on their part.

    Both drew their bows, forcing Igor to hide behind the tree again. The arrows missed him. For a moment, he forgot about the pain in his leg.

    Igor peeked out again. There was time before they reloaded their arrows. But he didn¡¯t see them doing it. Instead, he saw Vasily¡¯s back, holding the board in front of him and walking toward them with a sword in hand. The two figures suddenly dropped their bows to the ground and instead drew weapons, no larger than ordinary knives. Both figures were large and most likely male, but he couldn¡¯t see well from here. He only saw that Vasily was already swinging at them. That seemed to calm him. He had never seen Vasily lose to anyone in a sword fight. Not that he had seen many such fights.

    Igor emerged from behind the tree. There were no more archers. Or at least the third wasn¡¯t shooting. Stepan and Ivanek were still nowhere to be seen, and dying alone and scared behind the tree wasn¡¯t a good option. The pain in his leg was such that he really wanted his life to end as soon as possible, but it would be better to die in battle than here. Not that he could offer anyone a fair fight. He didn¡¯t even have the strength to lift a sword. But he had his knife instead. The knife that Vasily had given him.

    He started after Vasily. He heard a voice behind him. It was Clarice, but he paid no attention to her. Naturally, he was afraid. And as he walked, he limped on his good leg. Occasionally, he stepped on the injured one, just to hurry up, but the pain made him stretch his neck and grit his teeth.

    There were no longer two people in front of Vasily. There were three. And the third was twice as big as the other two. He too was dressed in some sort of cape, which was small on him and stretched from his large head. Honestly, he looked ridiculous.

    Igor was already very close. He limped, held his knife, and dragged his injured leg. The entire way to Vasily, he wondered why he was doing this. What help could he be? He would just be another victim. Maybe he should have gone and protected Clarice. But protect her from what and how? He pitied himself.

    Vasily was saying something to the three of them, but they didn¡¯t respond. He had lowered the wooden plank he was using as a shield down by his side and was walking confidently toward them, though his gaze was mainly fixed on the large man.

    His opponent struck first. Vasily blocked the blow successfully, and several sparks flew from the clash of their swords. The two smaller men had stepped back.

    Vasily gripped his improvised shield firmly and hurled it at the man facing him. The two archers raised their bows again, but the large man stopped them with a single hand gesture. He said something to them, and they stepped back. Igor also stopped and took cover behind a tree. If they weren¡¯t getting involved, he didn¡¯t need to either. Honestly, he was scared. If he knew how to fight, he surely would have jumped in.

    The large man was wielding a very beautiful sword. It had a white handle adorned with various sparkling stones. The blade itself shone in the light and was so clean it looked like it had never seen blood. Could this be one of those swords? Igor wondered. No, it was unlikely that some random passerby, probably a bandit, would have one of the ten. That was out of the question.

    Vasily attacked again, but the large man defended himself. The two smaller men had raised their bows again, waiting for the outcome of the fight to shoot. Vasily was in a difficult position. Igor needed to act. If Vasily defeated the large man, these two would kill him.

    He stepped out from behind the tree and moved toward them. It was reckless, but it gave Vasily a chance. He might die, but at least he would save Vasily and prove himself, even posthumously. If it weren¡¯t for Vasily, he would still be rolling drunk on the muddy streets of Chernoval. Now, he had the chance to die a hero, even in an unknown forest. It would have been better if he had a plan or at least knew how to fight.

    Both men saw him and raised their bows toward him.

    "Stay where you are!"

    He didn¡¯t listen and continued. He saw them draw their bowstrings. He didn¡¯t care. His leg hurt anyway. Another pain wouldn¡¯t matter. He¡¯d survive it. He didn¡¯t know how he looked in their eyes, but he could see their hesitation. He wasn¡¯t that frightening. He was young, skinny, and probably dirty. What were they so afraid of?

    Suddenly, one of them fell. A knife was sticking out of his neck.

    The second man turned around but also took a knife to the forehead.

    Even Igor was surprised. It all happened so quickly.

    Neither the large man nor Vasily had realized what had happened. They were too engrossed in their fight.

    Igor saw them. It was Stepan and Ivanek. He should have guessed. They were coming this way. Ivanek bent down and retrieved the knives from the dead men¡¯s heads. He was laughing. Meanwhile, Vasily was still fighting alone nearby.

    "And what were you thinking? Where were you headed? Did you want to die?" Ivanek shouted.

    Igor looked at him. What had he been thinking? Had he escaped death once again?

    Vasily and the large man in the red cloak continued to fight. Only now, separated, did the large man notice that his two companions were dead. That seemed to anger him. Igor could tell by his movements, not so much by his face. He couldn¡¯t see his face anyway. But he gripped his sword tighter and flexed his fingers around it. Vasily wasn¡¯t paying much attention to what was happening around him. He was focused solely on the dark part under the man¡¯s hood and on his sword. And the sword was beautiful. Very beautiful. This was also evident in the way Ivanek and Stepan were looking. They seemed to be more focused on the sword than on the large man.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to hide your face anymore. Soon, I¡¯ll see it. And your sword will be in my hands.¡± Vasily spoke to the hooded man, pointing at him with his sword. The large man laughed with a deep, heavy voice. He was much bigger than Vasily but quite agile.

    The large man let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a deep sigh, swung, and brought his massive sword down on Vasily. Vasily blocked it and pushed him back. Igor couldn¡¯t understand how Vasily had such strength. Sometimes, he thought it was some new Vander magic. Vanders were known for such things.

    The large man was out of breath. This was Vasily¡¯s moment. And Vasily knew it. He raised his sword and leaped.

    But it was pointless. A sword appeared through the large man¡¯s chest. A moment later, the sword disappeared, and the large man collapsed to his knees before burying his face in the mud.

    Behind him stood Ivanek, wiping the blood off his weapon.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°You bastard¡­¡± Vasily was furious and rushed at him. He jumped just as he had at the large man, but Ivanek defended himself.

    Then he stepped back, ready for another attack.

    ¡°We don¡¯t kill from behind, fool.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t kill from behind in fair fights. This wasn¡¯t a fair fight. But if you want, go ahead, attack me again. Don¡¯t you see who this is?¡±

    Vasily didn¡¯t attack again. His face was red. He threw his sword to the ground, at Ivanek¡¯s feet, said something to him in a language Igor didn¡¯t understand, and bent over the dead man. The whole time, he kept his eyes on Ivanek, while Stepan stood somewhere aside, silent as always.

    Igor watched them. They looked exactly like a band of robbers. But they were good people. He knew that now. He knew they had principles and weren¡¯t what he had thought they were at the beginning.

    Vasily was holding the large man¡¯s white sword in his hands, while Ivanek cleaned his own, occasionally glancing at Vasily. Stepan didn¡¯t speak, standing in a third corner, waiting for something to happen. Igor didn¡¯t think the tension between them had lessened.

    The silence was broken by a new arrow that came from behind Igor and flew past Vasily. The danger wasn¡¯t over. Igor dropped to the ground, but Vasily stood firm, the white sword in hand.

    He looked directly at the spot where the arrow had come from.

    There stood Clarice, holding a bow. And with her other hand, she was drawing a new arrow.

    And the bow was pointed straight at them.

 ION

    ¡°Name?¡± The sword that pointed at him was finer than Otto¡¯s, and larger too. The edges still bore the bloodstains left by the dead James. The wretch¡¯s body had lain on the ground for a long time, and his head had been used as a toy for the dogs. Later, they gave them the body as well. They ate what they could, and the rest was thrown into the sea.

    ¡°Yon.¡±

    ¡°What did you do to end up in prison, Yon?¡± Rex spoke calmly, much like Ben, though he looked far more menacing.

    ¡°They killed my wife and child, and I killed their murderer.¡± Yon was honest.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve done the same. You didn¡¯t deserve prison.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t see the bodies of those he killed. They only saw his and didn¡¯t believe me.¡±

    ¡°And where were their bodies?¡±

    Did he have to relive it all again? The memory flashed before his eyes, the moment when he threw the first shovelful of dirt onto his wife¡¯s chest. He had placed Bryon in her lap so they could depart together. Only at the end did he cover their faces. It was fortunate that it rained to mask his tears. But still, the tears came. His only witness was the dead Bast.

    ¡°All right, you don¡¯t have to answer. Losing a child is bad enough.¡± Rex seemed understanding. Yon didn¡¯t expect him to remember any of this later. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t save you. I can¡¯t know if you¡¯re lying to me or not.¡± Rex gnawed on a bone like a dog, only he had hands. Every time he spoke, he lifted his head toward Yon. ¡°What did you do before prison, Yon?¡±

    ¡°I was a woodcutter when hired; if not, I tended the gardens¡ªmine and the village¡¯s. I dug, plowed...¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh. And why do you think they wanted to kill you? You¡¯re just a peasant.¡±

    He knew the reason, but he wasn¡¯t going to tell Rex. That would be as good as signing his own death sentence.

    ¡°I think it was by chance. But I got my revenge.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d have done the same.¡± Rex pointed at him with the gnawed bone. He tried to act kindly, though it didn¡¯t suit him at all.

    ¡°Do you still harbor hatred, Yon?¡±

    ¡°Not for the killer. But for the one who ordered it, yes.¡±

    ¡°And who do you think that was?¡±

    He believed it was the king or someone close to him. But he didn¡¯t say that. Fiona and Bryon weren¡¯t their target, of that he was sure. But they suffered. And they least deserved it.

    ¡°Let me deal with that when the time comes, Commander.¡±

    Yon lowered his head, hoping he hadn¡¯t angered him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®sir.¡¯¡± Rex changed his tone and stood up. ¡°I¡¯m your commander, not a lord or sir.¡±

    Someone shouted behind him, another responded, and the sounds of weapons clashing followed, then laughter.

    ¡°I¡¯ll test your fighting skills soon enough. But let¡¯s continue. You?¡±

    ¡°Renald Voris, sir. I betrayed the king.¡±

    ¡°I like it when people are direct. Which king? The old one or the new one?¡±

    ¡°The new one, sir.¡±

    ¡°Strange. Usually, that gets your head chopped off, not sent to Thorn.¡± Rex still appeared calm. The stone he sat on seemed comfortable and made him slightly taller than them, something that would otherwise be difficult. ¡°What did you do, Renald?¡±

    Renald hesitated. Yon prayed he would choose his words wisely. He had seen what Bast did to that James. His blood was still at their feet.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize Garrick¡¯s authority.¡±

    ¡°Bold.¡± Rex still didn¡¯t seem angry. ¡°Bold to admit it. And now? Would you serve him?¡±

    ¡°Am I serving him? If so, take my head right here.¡± The old man, Renald, lowered his head.

    ¡°Stand up, soldier.¡± Rex shouted. ¡°You¡¯re not serving him, but he¡¯s on our side. If I hear this while any of his men are nearby, I won¡¯t just take your head. I¡¯ll make you regret ever opening your filthy mouth.¡± Rex softened his tone again. ¡°What were you before?¡±

    ¡°A knight in the Blacktor guard.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Rex smiled again and sat back on the large stone. ¡°Yes, it makes sense. You were a loyal dog to King Roland, and after his son took the throne, you got angry. Well, Roland is also in Thorn. He¡¯s influenced you somehow.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen the king there, Commander.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not a king. Say it. Who is the king, Renald?¡±

    ¡°Garrick, Commander.¡± Renald said it so smoothly and lightly, as if he had just renounced all his previous words.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯re a quick learner. Garrick is king, and we are his friends. Make sure those are always your answers. As for what you think, you can keep that to yourself.¡±

    ¡°You!¡± Rex pointed to the next. The remaining four, Yon didn¡¯t know well.

    ¡°Edgar. Edgar Flint.¡±

    ¡°Flint, huh? I knew a Flint, but he wasn¡¯t related to you. You¡¯re ugly.¡±

    Edgar remained silent.

    ¡°Speak, Edgar. Why are you in Thorn?¡±

    ¡°I had more than one wife.¡±

    Bast¡¯s laughter was expected.

    ¡°You¡¯re ugly, Edgar. Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. Their lord caught me.¡±

    ¡°So, the lord had two wives, and you took them?¡±

    ¡°No, he had two sisters. Those were the two sisters.¡±

    ¡°And what were you that made two sisters like you?¡±

    ¡°The lord¡¯s stableman.¡±

    This time even Renald laughed.

    ¡°Quite funny, huh, Renald?¡± Rex looked at him.

    Renald realized and stopped.

    ¡°Next?¡±

    ¡°Taryn, Commander. Taryn Black.¡±

    ¡°Black? Are you related to¡­?¡±

    ¡°As far as I know, no. But my surname is common. Especially around these parts.¡±

    ¡°I understand. But the Black lineage originates from the king, from his ancestors. Who knows where some cousin of the kings spread his seed in the past? I digress.¡± Rex pulled out another chicken wing from his pocket, blew on it, and continued, ¡°So, why were you in Thorn, Taryn?¡±

    ¡°They accused me of counterfeiting coins. The black ones.¡±

    ¡°And was it true?¡±

    Taryn raised his head and answered, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°How convincing were they?¡±

    ¡°I got to the point where I had the most land around Blacktor and was speaking for the hand of the daughter of one of the king¡¯s brothers.¡±

    ¡°I remember that,¡± Renald interjected, ¡°The treasurer exposed you.¡±

    Taryn turned to Renald, surprised.

    ¡°Actually, yes. The treasurer caught me. And they took everything. At least they left me alive.¡±

    ¡°I heard about that too, but I thought it was just stories. Interesting. So, you¡¯ve seen what it¡¯s like to be rich.¡± Rex threw the last of his gnawed chicken wings at their feet and stood up, already drawing his sword. ¡°But can you fight, Taryn? Or do you use your hands only for deceit?¡±

    ¡°When I was a lord, I had men to fight for me. I mostly roamed the forests in the eastern part and hunted. If shooting with a crossbow and bow counts as fighting, then yes. I can fight.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve scoundrels like you. You?¡± He pointed to the fifth and continued without waiting. ¡°Ah, a woman. I love women, but not seeing them fight. Your name?¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Sara, Commander.¡±

    She had black hair, not very long, but tied in a small ponytail. She looked tall, though not as tall as him. As he studied her, she continued, ¡°My brother and I were supposed to kill a knight. Well, we failed.¡±

    ¡°Who is your brother?¡±

    Sara turned and pointed to the floating, dismembered body in the water.

    ¡°James, Commander. The one you killed a little while ago.¡±

    Rex swallowed. Surprise flashed across his face, but he quickly composed himself.

    ¡°You must hate me, don¡¯t you? Well, what¡¯s done is done.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s pure luck we weren¡¯t killed when we were caught. Then it was pure luck we survived Thorn. Maybe we were meant to die.¡±

    ¡°Wise words. But you¡¯re alive. That¡¯s what matters.¡±

    Yon tried to see her face. It was stone-cold. He wouldn¡¯t have lasted in her place.

    ¡°What weapons are you good with, dear?¡± Rex suddenly spoke kindly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve handled a sword, but I¡¯m quicker with daggers. I rarely shot with a bow, but James was better with it. I also liked fighting with a yatagan, but it¡¯s a bit heavy for me. The axe is also heavy for me.¡±

    Rex whistled.

    ¡°Wow. You¡¯re quite the catch, unlike the previous four. If what you¡¯re saying is true, I might have found a diamond.¡± Then he seemed to remember her brother and looked at the sea. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry about him. He must have been as good as you. Now I¡¯d rather kill this one¡ª¡± He pointed to Edgar. ¡°He seems the most useless. But what¡¯s done is done.¡±

    Rex gestured to Sara, and she stepped back. Everyone else stood still. Only the last one, the sixth, stepped forward. Rex had called him himself. He had light blond hair that fell around his face and pale mustaches.

    ¡°Kelvin Finn, Commander,¡± he quickly introduced himself.

    ¡°What were you in Thorn for, Kelvin?¡±

    ¡°I was a trader in the eastern part. Born in Solis and traveled between cities.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Honestly?¡±

    ¡°I want you to be more honest than ever.¡±

    ¡°I organized a group that would attack other traders at night, take their most valuable goods, and then I would sell them.¡±

    ¡°And eventually, you stole from the wrong person.¡±

    ¡°Yes, from a trader of King Ajax.¡±

    ¡°Ajax? The name sounds familiar.¡±

    ¡°A fat, short king. Once a great warrior, but the last time I saw him, he was lying on whores all day, eating.¡±

    ¡°And apparently, he had traders.¡±

    ¡°Yes. It turned out that his people were doing the same thing I had decided to do. But word got out about me, not about him.¡± The blond man gestured a lot as he spoke. ¡°And he killed all my people and sent me to Thorn. Supposedly for a short while, but it¡¯s been two years now.¡±

    ¡°You survived there for two years?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t draw much attention.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever been in these lands, Kelvin?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s my first time. I¡¯d only heard that it¡¯s not like other places here.¡±

    ¡°Not like the others in a good or bad way?¡±

    ¡°In a bad way, Commander. They said there were thefts, murders, and no tolerance for anyone. And Ajax often talked about Black of Blacktor. When he came to the traders, he scared everyone by saying he¡¯d send them here to have their things chopped off.¡±

    Rex laughed as expected.

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s right about the murders. But we only kill those who deserve it. Just as he did with your people.¡±

    ¡°Can you fight, Kelvin?¡±

    ¡°No. I shot a crossbow once and learned quickly. At the end of the evening, I robbed all the boys. We were aiming at a tied-up pig. The one who hit it lost. The boys killed it quickly. But then the Solis guards found out we had a crossbow and took it from us.¡±

    ¡°And the pig?¡±

    ¡°The pig?¡±

    ¡°Did you eat it, or did the guards take it?¡±

    ¡°How is that important?¡±

    Rex waved his hand and laughed. He raised his hand, and two boys, young and clean-shaven, rushed over as if they had been waiting for the signal for a long time.

    Rex¡¯s boys laid out two cloths on the ground and spread them out. Yon saw at least three swords, one crossbow, many daggers scattered across the cloths, a mace, an ax, and a bow. All neatly wrapped and secured with another small, sturdy piece of fabric sewn onto the large cloth.

    ¡°There¡¯s one bow and one crossbow,¡± Rex pointed out. ¡°You¡¯ll have to work it out. Seems like some of you favor the crossbow. Well, one of you will take the bow. But first,¡± Rex stepped in front of them and blocked their path. ¡°I¡¯ll see what each of you can do. And that won¡¯t happen with a bow. So each of you pick something for men.¡± He winked at Sara after his last words. She probably didn¡¯t notice.

    Yon chose the sword. So did Renald. In the older warrior¡¯s hand, the weapon looked like it truly belonged. As he examined and swung it, it seemed to have found its rightful place.

    But not for Yon. It was only the third time in his life that he held a sword, and the weapon felt a bit heavy. He pretended to be able to hold it steadily.

    Taryn, the former lord, also chose a sword. He justified it by saying he had fought demonstratively a few times.

    Sara picked two daggers, and Kelvin did the same.

    ¡°And you?¡± Rex looked at Edgar.

    ¡°I can manage without.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. Grab some steel, or you¡¯ll see it up close.¡±

    Rex¡¯s tone had grown harsher.

    Edgar bent down and took a small dagger. It looked more like a bread knife than a weapon for killing.

    Rex saw it but didn¡¯t object. Instead, he called him directly.

    ¡°You and you!¡±

    One of the chosen was Edgar.

    Yon looked around to make sure the next was indeed him. But there was no mistake. Rex was now pointing at him.

    ¡°Face each other.¡±

    Yon quickly took his place. He tightened his grip on the sword¡¯s hilt. His wrist already burned. He could lift it a few times, but his arm would surely tire after that.

    He knew Edgar from Thorn. His cell was near his, and they had exchanged a few words when going in or out. But they weren¡¯t exactly friends.

    Edgar looked at him with malice. There was no sympathy in his eyes. And that wasn¡¯t the goal, but it seemed Yon was the only one who didn¡¯t understand that. Edgar held the short blade as if reluctantly. He was looking more at Yon.

    ¡°Well, fight, you dogs,¡± Rex urged. ¡°Just don¡¯t kill each other. As weak as you are, you¡¯re all I¡¯ve got. I doubt Ben will give me men for a new group.¡±

    Yon stayed in place. He wanted to see something in Edgar¡¯s eyes¡ªsome sign of what he was about to do. They had to make it look convincing, avoid injury, and please Rex. The latter would likely be difficult.

    But there was nothing. Edgar moved toward him. Yon assumed a stance that looked combative in his mind, but it clearly didn¡¯t to the others. He heard the quiet laughter of someone in the group but couldn¡¯t tell who it was.

    Edgar swung once, then again, and when Yon easily deflected the small dagger in his hands, Edgar seemed to grow frustrated. He threw the blade away, rolled up his sleeves, and lunged at Yon¡¯s legs.

    They must have looked ridiculous from the side, or at least he did.

    He dropped his sword. Even if he had held onto it, there was nothing he could do now. Not only had he lost his sword, but he was already on the ground. Edgar turned on top of him and landed the first blow to his face.

    Yon thought to tell him to stop but realized how pathetic that would make him look.

    As Edgar pummeled him, his image seemed to change. It wasn¡¯t Edgar beating him anymore; it was Bast. Bast, alive again. The man who killed Fiona and Bryon. But now he was looking at him with his crushed skull. How does one survive something like that?

    Another blow. There was no more pain. Only anger.

    Edgar was short and stocky, but Yon was bigger. He used that to roll them over. It happened easily.

    Someone muttered something from the side, but neither of them heard it.

    Whether it was Bast or Edgar didn¡¯t matter anymore. Yon was the one delivering the blows now. Punch after punch after punch.

    But Bast¡¯s face didn¡¯t change.

    ¡°You died quicker last time, dog,¡± Yon shouted.

    He turned and saw a rock. Not as large as the one he used to kill Fiona and Bryon¡¯s murderer, but it would work.

    He lifted it over his head and heard someone shout.

    Then everything went black.

    He dreamed of them.

    Fiona thanked him, and Bryon called him ¡°Daddy.¡± He was almost sure those were his first words. He had been late to speak, but now he was. How sweet it was to hear him say it.

    Fiona was pleading with him. Begging him not to leave. But he had no intention of going anywhere. He wanted to stay there with them.

    ¡°Yon,¡± he heard his name. But it didn¡¯t sound like Fiona.

    Someone stood beside him, calling out.

    ¡°Yon?¡±

    The second time startled him, and he woke up.

    They were gone. For the umpteenth time, they vanished as soon as he opened his eyes. Not that he wasn¡¯t used to it.

    ¡°Pale Eyes. That¡¯s what we called him there.¡±

    Renald stood over him, like a giant. And the damn Sun was shining past his ear, as if it had found a way into Yon¡¯s head.

    Yon turned his gaze. Edgar was still there. There wasn¡¯t a scratch on his face.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°You passed out again. How many times has that happened now?¡±

    Yon didn¡¯t answer. His head hurt sharply.

    ¡°Are you sick?¡± Rex called down to him. ¡°I always get the weak ones.¡±

    ¡°A wanderer in Thorn said he doesn¡¯t have enough blood. And his eyes often turned pale. We saw that too, which is why we called him Pale Eyes. But he¡¯s a good lad.¡±

    ¡°Edgar?¡± Yon was starting to regain his senses.

    ¡°Edgar gave you a good beating. You rolled him over but then passed out. Very, very bad.¡± Rex wasn¡¯t pleased. Yon understood that. ¡°I¡¯ll figure out what to do with you. But you¡¯re not a unique fighter, and you faint. Right now, you¡¯re only good as bait for some predator at night.¡±

    ¡°Next! The woman and the old man.¡±

    The woman was Sara, the sister of the deceased James, and the old man was what Rex called Renald. Perhaps rightly so.

    This would be interesting. Yon still sat on the ground. His head hurt enough to keep him down. Someone tossed him a flask of water, but he was more hungry than thirsty. It didn¡¯t seem like they¡¯d be eating anytime soon.

    And it was Sara who struck first. She was far quicker than Renald and wasn¡¯t shy about using that to her advantage. Renald, on the other hand, showed that he wasn¡¯t wielding a sword for the first time and gracefully dodged each of her attacks. It was as if speed and thought were clashing. So far, neither was winning.

    It was also interesting to see how Renald didn¡¯t tire despite Sara¡¯s relentless efforts. And from the sidelines, it was a pleasure to watch Sara fight. She was truly skilled. The two daggers had become extensions of her hands, and every moment she knew where to strike to give Renald trouble. But Renald didn¡¯t hold back either. He even smiled. He smiled as he fought her.

    Their duel would likely have lasted a long time, but Rex managed to stop them.

    ¡°Better, better. There¡¯s some hope. Especially after the first two. That¡¯s enough.¡±

    Sara didn¡¯t look pleased. She stopped fighting but glared as if she had been fighting for her life¡¯s meaning.

    As the third pair began, and the two archers, Taryn and Kelvin, prepared to measure their skill, Renald approached Yon.

    ¡°That girl is a fury. She fought very well, but I¡¯m not ready to be thrown away yet.¡±

    Yon didn¡¯t answer him. Renald sat next to him.

    ¡°Are the fainting spells still happening?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve never stopped my whole life. But now they¡¯re starting to get in the way. While I was beating Edgar, I imagined he was the one who killed Fiona and Bryon.¡± Yon didn¡¯t know why he was sharing this.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t beat him, Yon. You turned him over and passed out.¡±

    Yon looked at him for a moment. He wasn¡¯t surprised. His mind had often played tricks on him. And often what it showed him later turned out to be something else entirely.

    And always, in those moments, he saw Fiona and Bryon. At least that made it worth it.

    The two archers in front of them were holding swords. They, like Yon, seemed never to have wielded such weapons or at least found it difficult. But the former Lord Taryn held himself with grace. He had one hand behind his back, his right foot extended forward, and with a slightly bent posture, he moved slowly in all directions when attacking and back when defending. And he did the latter much more easily. Kelvin, on the other hand, reminded him of himself. The sword barely stayed in his hand, and he frequently glanced at the bow lying on the cloth. When for the fourth or fifth time, Taryn managed to disarm him, Kelvin crouched low, grabbed the crossbow, quickly loaded it, and fired.

    He wasn¡¯t aiming at Taryn. That was clear to everyone. Everyone except Taryn, who shouted, ducked, and charged toward him. But he stopped at Rex¡¯s shout.

    ¡°The bastard hit.¡±

    Something thudded behind them. Everyone turned to look.

    Rex was the first to reach it, bend down, and pick up the arrow. He lifted it like a hunting trophy and smiled broadly. He was pleased.

    And on the arrow, there wasn¡¯t just one bird. Two swallows, side by side, were pierced as if someone had skewered them on purpose and was about to cook them for lunch.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d only fired a crossbow once? And at a pig?¡±

    ¡°Once, but I was accurate. That¡¯s why my boys lost.¡±

    Rex laughed again. He whistled, and two dogs, medium in size, both black, quickly approached. Rex threw the arrow to the ground, and each dog took a bird.

    ¡°Maybe some of you will be of use to me after all.¡± Rex moved away from the dogs. ¡°But for others, I¡¯ll have to think long and hard.¡±

    He was looking at him.

 Silvia

    Riven stood between them, leaning against the wall, watching. The two women before him exchanged glances, their eyes drifting away from each other. Silvia held her long knife in hand, pretending to clean it while casting quick looks at Elara. Part of her was glad to see her, but to appear now? Out of nowhere?

    Elara, on the other hand, had a small sword hanging by her thigh, but the most striking thing was the spear jutting from her back as they approached. Silvia had never seen her with a spear before. The last time they met, Elara could barely handle a sword, and now she had a full spear. And that white hair? Had she turned grey so soon? The edges still had hints of black. In truth, it suited her¡ªSilvia couldn¡¯t deny it. It gave her the look of a fighter. A warrior. On Eagle¡¯s Bridge, she was just a frail little girl. She had grown stronger since then. Her form was fuller now, and Silvia noticed even Riven had stolen a few glances at her on their way from the tavern to the stables.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Elara?¡± Silvia couldn¡¯t hold back and spoke first.

    Riven stepped between them.

    ¡°I was about to ask you the same thing,¡± Elara reached for her spear and drew it.

    Riven mirrored the movement with his sword.

    ¡°Relax, Riven. I don¡¯t intend to attack you. Though after the last time¡­¡±

    ¡°The last time?¡± Silvia almost jumped. ¡°Do you remember what we said the last time we saw each other?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I remember very well. But the situation is different now.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s different? I promised you that if I saw you again, we would settle the matter in a fight. And for one of us, it wouldn¡¯t end well. Do you remember? Now get ready.¡±

    ¡°No, Silvia.¡± Riven extended a hand in front of her. ¡°There¡¯s no point in doing anything right now. Not until we¡¯re out of this place.¡±

    ¡°Are you defending her? What if she¡¯s one of those people in the tavern?¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I saved you?¡±

    ¡°Saved us?¡± Silvia laughed. ¡°You¡¯ve always loved to exaggerate, Elara. But none of that is true.¡±

    Riven remained silent. Silvia was ready to strike her. Elara also stood in a stance, ready to fight.

    ¡°Go ahead, Silvia.¡± Elara let the spear drop. ¡°Hit me and end this. You want revenge, don¡¯t you? Do it.¡±

    Silvia took another step forward. Her heart said no, but her mind urged her to strike. As she hesitated over what to do, Riven took the weapon from her hand and threw it at his feet.

    ¡°Speak, Elara,¡± he said in a deep, commanding voice that Silvia had always feared. She saw Elara soften at the sound.

    Elara looked at both Silvia and Riven, uncertainty in her eyes. Valdemar had chased them out of the tavern and given them refuge in the stables as a gesture of thanks. Silvia felt mixed emotions toward them. They had saved him, but they had also turned the tavern upside down. If they caused trouble here, they would likely be thrown out of the village. Not that it would be much of a problem, but they wanted to take what they came for first. Horses or maybe a cart. They preferred the latter.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to say,¡± Elara interrupted Silvia¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Like you, I wander. Especially after Omar¡­¡±

    ¡°Omar?¡± Silvia interjected. ¡°That¡¯s right, Omar. Where¡¯s your little friend?¡± She pretended to have forgotten about him, but she hadn¡¯t. Omar and Elara were a pair, just like her and Riven. Both dark-skinned, Omar a bit more, both warriors, both with strong wills. They had found each other on Eagle¡¯s Bridge.

    Elara¡¯s eyes lit up, and she stepped closer to Silvia. The mention of Omar¡¯s name seemed to agitate her. Silvia drew a short sword from somewhere, just enough to keep someone at a safe distance, and stopped her with it. Riven reached out and took it too. She shot him one of her most venomous looks. She¡¯d have words with him later, though she knew it wouldn¡¯t be in her favor.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you, Silvia?¡± Elara nearly shouted.

    ¡°I need to finish what I postponed last time.¡± Anger flared in Silvia. She could still see how Elara had walked into that place and taken Omar with her despite all of Riven¡¯s warnings. They had fought side by side, killed so many enemies, and in the end, they took the money. Not that she and Riven didn¡¯t work for money now, but it was different. Truly different.

    ¡°You asked about Omar, didn¡¯t you? Omar is in Thorn. There, I told you.¡±

    ¡°Thorn? The prison Thorn?¡± Riven spoke again. He was more talkative than usual.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good, that¡¯s where he belongs.¡± Silvia smiled. ¡°Too bad you¡¯re not there too.¡±

    Elara lowered her gaze to the ground. For a moment, Silvia felt pity, but she quickly pushed the feeling away.

    ¡°Elara?¡± Riven decided to break his silence and intervened. His tone was gentle. He placed a hand on hers. Silvia noticed and made a mental note to remind him of it later. ¡°Why is Omar in Thorn?¡±

    ¡°Why do you care, Riven?¡± Silvia threw something at him, which bounced off his shoulder.

    ¡°Omar was my friend. That¡¯s why.¡±

    ¡°Friend?¡± Silvia shouted. ¡°You still dare call them friends? Don¡¯t you remember Eagle¡¯s Bridge?¡±

    ¡°I remember it. But they had no choice then. I understood that later.¡±

    ¡°They had no choice? What do you mean, they had no choice? They chose the money from the guards over leaving with us.¡±

    ¡°We served the Western Kingdoms.¡±

    ¡°You served yourselves. And look at the result. You¡¯re alone, and your Omar is in Thorn. What happened? Did they decide they didn¡¯t like people with darker skin there either?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Elara looked up at Silvia and continued. ¡°We were part of the Solis guard. Even a higher-paid part than the others. They treated us well, and everyone was at our feet.¡±

    ¡°But something must have happened.¡±

    ¡°Yes, one day, Ajax passed through.¡±

    ¡°Ajax? The King of Solis?¡±

    ¡°Ajax has softened in character and grown fat. Very fat. And he doesn¡¯t fight anymore. He just sits on his throne, eats grapes all day, and drinks. His hair¡¯s growing long, and there¡¯s no trace of its blonde color. It¡¯s almost white now. Time hasn¡¯t been kind to him.¡±

    ¡°What does that have to do with anything, Elara?¡±

    ¡°He came to the gates. I don¡¯t know why, but he asked for us from the commander Orvin there. He paid a high price for us. We had no choice.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I knew they¡¯d make you slaves.¡±

    ¡°We were never slaves.¡±

    ¡°Anyone bought with money is a slave.¡±

    ¡°Leave her be, Silvia. Let her talk.¡±

    Elara looked down again and continued. She no longer resembled the confident Elara. She seemed somehow broken.

    ¡°In Solis, we were part of the guard, directly under Ajax. And over time, he took us under his wing. He liked us so much that we were always with him. Only when he was with the queen did he make us leave. And there were times when Omar even stayed.¡±

    ¡°Omar stayed? Why?¡±

    Riven quickly realized what he had said, but it was too late.

    ¡°You know why, Riven. But I had no problems with it. We were paid well, slept in good places, and Solis is a peaceful kingdom. It¡¯s hot, but there are no internal wars or nearby tribes that rebel. We lived well. And we had to pretend we didn¡¯t see the foolish things Ajax was doing.¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°You lived well, and apparently, something happened?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Elara covered her eyes with her hands again. ¡°One of Ajax¡¯s advisors called me to his room one night. I didn¡¯t hesitate and went. I expected him to want the same thing as Ajax, to stand guard at his door all night. Sometimes these people do secret things and want stronger security. And everything was fine until he brought me into his room.¡±

    Silvia looked into her eyes. They had started to well up with tears.

    ¡°Did you kill him?¡±

    Elara lifted her gaze and nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s rare for a woman to be a warrior. It almost always comes down to what they asked of you.¡± Riven¡¯s tone was far too kind. So much so that it was starting to irritate Silvia.

    ¡°I know, but nothing gave it away¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always that. And how did Omar get involved in this?¡±

    ¡°He took the blame.¡± Elara wiped her tears. ¡°He arrived first, and when Ajax and the other guards came, he confessed that he had killed the commander of the army.¡±

    ¡°The commander? That Orvin?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Ajax liked us. Both me and Omar. And he made it so that he managed to send him to prison. He saved him from a public execution. If you kill a commander, you must die. Well, Omar didn¡¯t die, but they sent him to Thorn.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡±

    ¡°I was banished from the kingdom a few nights later. He was afraid they would attack me again or that I would try to avenge him. There was nothing I could do but find you. That¡¯s why I came to Volkar. I know Silvia likes to linger there. And word of you had spread as far as Solis. Or at least the things you had done. But without names. But I was sure it was you. And when I saw you here¡­ I was glad, even though I didn¡¯t know how you would take me.¡±

    Riven looked at her. Silvia did too.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. Both you and Silvia. I know how we parted ways before. Believe me, I regretted losing you. Every day I regretted it. And Omar often talked about you.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about Omar. Are you sure he¡¯s in Thorn?¡±

    ¡°No, but I saw the ship with the prisoners heading there. Omar was among them. I saw him on the deck.¡±

    ¡°You can only reach Thorn by water. And we don¡¯t have much experience with water. And now we have another task.¡±

    ¡°I know how. But I need you both. Tell me what I can do to regain your trust? And then you can help Omar. You¡¯re my last hope.¡±

    A noise came from the back of the stables. Several dark figures moved. The sound of breaking glass echoed. Silvia pulled her weapon from Riven¡¯s hands and was the first to head toward the sound.

    She sensed Riven was doing the same behind her.

    Three men stood before her. She was almost certain there was a fourth among them. She couldn¡¯t see them well, only their outlines. She didn¡¯t know what they wanted, but she knew it wasn¡¯t good.

    ¡°Are you the ones from the tavern?¡± one of them asked.

    Silvia didn¡¯t answer, but she stopped and waited. A slight fear gripped her. She didn¡¯t know why she had rushed forward alone. What was she thinking? She could fight; Riven had trained her, but not against three. And sometimes, she struggled even against one. But Riven was coming too. That comforted her.

    Ahead, she heard the scrape of metal. Then something flashed in the dark stable. The metal was high in the air and descending toward her head. She did nothing. She didn¡¯t even try to stop it. She saw it. Was this the end?

    Someone pushed her, shoving her against the stable wall. She hit her shoulder and fell. Then she opened her eyes. It was Riven. Riven had pushed her. Now he was fighting the three men. Elara was with him. Silvia stayed down. She was the weakest link. She was pathetic. Even Elara was stronger than her and now fought side by side with Riven. What was this intruder thinking?

    Silvia drew her knife and moved toward them.

    ¡°Step back,¡± Riven called as he finished off one of the men by pinning him to the wall with his sword.

    She stepped back. She didn¡¯t care who they were fighting or why. She just watched and felt alone. Look how well the two of them worked together. And they protected her. They protected her like a child. Like a lady. A lady she certainly was not. She hated ladies. She never wanted to be a lady.

    She sat on the ground and curled up. Panic was taking hold of her again. It had been a long time since she had felt this panic. She thought she had overcome it. Riven knew what she was feeling. Only he did. But now he was busy. Otherwise, he would have hugged her and told her everything was fine. She could be weak only in front of him.

    A new body fell near her. Blood streamed from his forehead. She stared at the dead man, unable to move. She was afraid of the dead. Her hands trembled.

    Another fell beside her. Suddenly, it was quiet. She was trembling and whimpering softly. She wanted Riven. She wanted him to hold her. She lifted her head. He was standing, talking to Elara.

    Why was Elara here? What did she want from them? To drive them apart?

    She felt hands. A man¡¯s hands. They were Riven¡¯s. She felt him.

    He held her tighter and lifted her from the ground. She began to cry. Then she opened her arms and hit him. She hit him a second time. Then she stood face to face with Elara. She stared at her. She wanted to kill her. If they wanted to be together, she¡¯d let them.

    She bolted out of the stables. Outside, it was dark. As she ran, she felt her thigh. Her weapon was still there. She could handle him too. She couldn¡¯t fight like Elara, but she could defend herself. And it wasn¡¯t like the village had many stronger than her. She could have killed those in the stables too. If she had been left alone, she would have handled them. But no, Riven had interfered again. As always, he wanted to be the stronger one. And that Elara¡­ Let him stay with her if he wanted. He wanted her even then. The thing with Omar was just a distraction.

    She didn¡¯t like this town. It only brought death and old memories.

    She kept running.

    She decided to flee through the narrow alleys. She hoped no one would intercept her there. She was wrong. In the first alley, two of Mungard¡¯s guards came toward her. She believed she could take them on but preferred to escape. If they caught her, it would create problems for Riven and Elara. She didn¡¯t want to see them, but she didn¡¯t want them to come back for her either. No one was stronger than Riven. No one would catch him. That thought calmed her.

    She turned back and headed again down the main street. She walked slowly and calmly. She wanted to look as unsuspicious as possible. A light appeared from one of the houses, then quickly went out. Silvia hid under the window and listened intently. Nothing. The guards from the narrow alley turned in the opposite direction.

    A shout and the clash of steel echoed nearby. Someone was fighting. In the distance, she saw the same two guards. Now they were running. Silvia drew one of her knives and held it in her hand. Her steps became lighter. As she moved silently, she remembered Zhorin Silent Step.

    Zhorin was her best friend from childhood. Before Silvia lost her parents, she and Zhorin were inseparable. And they called her Silent Step. Zhorin loved to steal, hence the nickname. And she was never caught, though they always knew it was her. If they wondered, she would tell them herself. But only to the kids around her, never to those she had taken from.

    Zhorin had lost her parents during the massacre. The massacre in Chernoval left many children alive. But it killed their parents. It had been over twenty years since then, and she barely remembered them. But she remembered Zhorin. She and Zhorin learned to walk slowly and quietly. This was especially important with the Vanders. They were a scourge in Chernoval. No one liked them, but they tolerated them. The king protected them. As far as she had heard, they were still there. That¡¯s why she hated that kingdom. The thought of having to pass through it with Riven to reach Ishold terrified her. But now Riven was gone. She was alone in a foreign town full of guards crawling through the streets.

    A new shout echoed. It was closer. Silvia drew her other knife and entered another alley.

    ¡°Ah, what a beauty,¡± she heard a female voice that made her jump.

    Silvia turned and saw a woman who must have been at least forty years old. She held a wooden woman¡¯s pipe, common among the lighter women of the kingdoms. The pipe smoked with a pleasant aroma that even Silvia could smell. It was clear the woman had once been beautiful, but now her worn face showed she was far from those years. She wore a long lace dress in various colors, which was torn in places and dirty in others.

    ¡°I can do women too,¡± the woman winked at Silvia and took a drag from the pipe.

    Silvia looked around, first on one side, then the other. She sheathed one of her knives and with her free hand struck the woman, who fell and remained on the ground. Silvia quickly undressed her and put on her clothes. She took the pipe too and hid the body flat on the ground.

    ¡°Hope you¡¯re not dead,¡± she whispered softly and tried to check if she was breathing. She felt warmth, which reassured her.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± another woman had appeared, looking very much like the one now lying on the ground. The second woman looked down, and the moonlight illuminated her pale face. ¡°No. Stay back. I¡¯ll scream! Don¡¯t kill me.¡±

    Silvia looked around again and this time drew her knife. She swung it. She didn¡¯t check if the second woman was breathing. There was no time. Instead, she lifted the long, heavy dress she had taken from the first and left the alley.

    ¡°Why are you out on the streets?¡± Silvia turned. It was one of the town¡¯s guards. Fat and short, with a long spear and peasant clothes. Almost all looked the same, but she remembered this one because of his plump cheeks. ¡°Get yourself somewhere, whore. Your place is in the mud.¡±

    Silvia didn¡¯t know what to say. She felt her knife under the dress. If she killed him, they might find out there were more people with Riven and Elara. ¡°How are they now?¡± she wondered.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, Rob? Who¡¯s that?¡± A distant voice distracted the fat guard, and Silvia used the moment to escape. The fat man grabbed her arm at the last moment and looked into her eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re pretty. It¡¯s rare to see pretty whores. Too bad we have other business now.¡± The guard grinned wickedly and then slapped her so hard it seemed to whistle between her ears. Silvia collapsed to the ground. She didn¡¯t want to scream. She didn¡¯t want to show weakness. She remained on the ground as the fat man laughed and walked away.

    ¡°Find anything?¡± she heard him ask. The other guard responded, but she couldn¡¯t make it out.

    She tried to stand, and on the second attempt, she succeeded. She wobbled. Her ears still rang from the resounding slap and the large hand that had struck her face. The first step was the hardest. After the second, she kept moving. She looked at her hands. Blood was running down one side of her face.

    Someone in the alley she had just left screamed. It was a woman¡¯s voice. ¡°How many whores are in this town?¡± Silvia thought and started running in the opposite direction, as fast as the long dress and the ringing in her ears would allow.

    After a few steps, she tripped and fell. She drew one of her knives and cut the dress to her knees. When she sheathed the knife, it was easier to get up, and she leaned against one of the village house doors. She wanted to be sure no one was around before she moved.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    A man¡¯s heavy voice came from in front of her. Then she saw him. Was it Riven? No, it wasn¡¯t him. It was someone else. She ran at him with the knife in hand. If it was one, she had a chance to kill him. The local guards and sentries weren¡¯t chosen from the best but from those who simply weren¡¯t good enough for the local army.

    Two more steps, and she would jump. She loved to kill with a leap.

    She stepped with her left foot, then her right, and fell.

    Something tripped her. She hit her forehead on the ground, then her knee. She turned and put her hand on her forehead. Blood gushed from her head.

    The last thing she saw was that she wasn¡¯t facing the man she had run toward. There were at least five of them.

 Bayar

    Bayan watched as a woman slowly examined each of the cells before her. The only light in the subterranean chamber came from a wide opening, high up in the common room, barred with several iron spikes. It wasn¡¯t as though anyone could reach it without a ladder or similar tool, but Bayan supposed that if it were open, unwanted visitors from outside might attempt to sneak in and reach the heart of the kingdom through the winding corridors. Yet, even if they managed to get in, avoid the warden, and unlock the heavy door¡ªwhose key only she possessed¡ªthey¡¯d likely become hopelessly lost in the labyrinthine passages. Some led to the library, where guards stood vigilant; others wound their way to the main royal corridor; and still others looped back to the courtyard from which the intruders had likely entered. Bayan knew these corridors well, having run through them more times than he could count, perhaps even more often than Selene herself. He had known Uma since childhood.

    Uma stood tall, gripping her spear, clad in a brown robe, the only garment she owned that wasn¡¯t patched. Her waist was cinched by a belt that highlighted her slender frame. Her red hair cascaded down to her waist, her pride and joy. Her chin was sharp, and her nose even sharper¡ªnot the most beautiful woman in Meihar, which was why she preferred the dim confines of the dungeons, where she could gaze upon those far less attractive than she.

    ¡°Hey, filthy woman!¡± A voice rang out from the first cell, a woman¡¯s voice. Uma ignored her. Bayan was two cells away.

    ¡°Filthy, filthy, filthy,¡± the woman taunted again.

    Uma stepped closer and brandished her spear through the air. The woman laughed loudly. Uma stepped back, leaving her be.

    ¡°Filthy wretch, night is falling,¡± the woman continued, gripping the iron bars with both hands. ¡°You said only one day. Only one day,¡± she growled, shaking the cell¡¯s bars.

    Bayan looked up at the opening high above. Indeed, the light was fading.

    ¡°I am Ora, Ora¡­¡± sang the black-haired woman locked in the next cell.

    Uma took another step toward her, but once more, only laughter followed. Bayan knew Ora well. Black-haired Ora was infamous throughout the kingdom. She would wander the capital streets all night and by morning, attempt to steal something or pretend to beg at the royal gates. Her day often ended in the same way¡ªin a cell, where she¡¯d be brought cold soup and stale bread twice a day. Most of the guards joked about her, calling her their mascot. But not Uma. Uma despised her. If it were up to her, she¡¯d drive her spear between the bars to find Ora¡¯s heart, but such an act wouldn¡¯t please the queen. Uma was a frequent topic of conversation in the servants¡¯ quarters, and amid the jesting, someone was always concocting a story about her. There was a place for Uma in those tales, but she never visited the servants¡¯ quarters. She preferred the solitude of the dungeons, guarding the cells and dealing with the likes of Ora. She adored the queen and spoke only of her.

    ¡°Ora, Ora, Ora¡­¡± the madwoman continued.

    Uma planted herself in the center of the room, equidistant from all the cells, covered her ears with her hands, and screamed. The black-haired woman kept singing. Uma uncovered her ears, gripped her spear with both hands, and began dragging it across the bars, creating a loud, grating noise. The sound irritated Ora, who tried to out-shout the clanging metal, but even that proved difficult. Eventually, Uma tired of the game and stepped back. Ora¡¯s laughter had ceased, and she now stared wide-eyed from the back of her cell, before starting to laugh once more.

    Uma approached the second cell, the one between Ora¡¯s and Bayan¡¯s. The cell was wide open and empty. Bayan couldn¡¯t see her or hear her, but he assumed she wanted to be alone. Uma wasn¡¯t fond of people, and when something upset her, she withdrew into herself, which was why she seldom left this place.

    The heavy door of the dungeon rattled with blows from the other side.

    ¡°Food, food!¡± Ora began to hop about.

    Uma stepped out of the second cell, spear pointed ahead, reached the door, and opened it. A kitchen maid stood outside, someone Bayan recognized¡ªone of the women who worked with his mother.

    ¡°Their food.¡±

    The maid tried to peer inside, but Uma blocked her view, taking the tray from her hands and slamming the door in her face. Uma carried one of the bowls to the black-haired woman, who snatched it eagerly and devoured its contents so quickly that Uma hadn¡¯t even handed her the crust of bread that accompanied it. She tossed the bread at Ora, who caught it in her lap and laughed with her mouth full. Uma grimaced and retreated.

    The other bowl was meant for Bayan. She turned toward him and froze, her gaze fixed on him as if embarrassed. Bayan smiled, but that only seemed to fluster her more, so he stepped back and sat on the wooden bench in his cell.

    A moment later, Uma approached.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you recognize me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°B-Bayan. I recognized you, but¡­¡± Uma turned her head away. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°But you spoke with Ora.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but Ora isn¡¯t¡­ isn¡¯t a boy.¡±

    Bayan took the tray from her hands. Her fingers were cold. She felt the contact and quickly withdrew them, then stood.

    ¡°Man, man, man!¡± Ora yelled from across the dungeon. ¡°Uma¡¯s got a man!¡± she jeered, jumping up and down. Uma spun around and, almost at a run, slammed her spear against the bars of Ora¡¯s cell as Ora retreated into laughter.

    Uma returned to the empty cell. Bayan hadn¡¯t started eating. His head ached, and even the slightest movement caused a throbbing pain that left him dizzy. His ribs hurt too. The two guards had given him a thorough beating. The last thing he remembered was lying in the mud. Then he must have passed out, waking only briefly as they dragged him here. He hadn¡¯t thought of Jasmine then. It wasn¡¯t until now that she came to mind.

    Uma had returned to the empty cell, while Ora sang something unintelligible. Bayan had no desire to listen. He couldn¡¯t wait for night to fall and for Ora to be removed. But he preferred to leave before she did. He tried to stand, slowly. The pain in his ribs flared up again.

    There was a second knock at the door, this one softer and more tentative.

    ¡°Oh, more friends?¡± Ora clutched the bars of her cell as she watched Uma approach the door. She began to jump and sing again.

    Uma exited the empty cell and cautiously approached the door. Bayan was curious about who had come. Visitors were rare, usually arriving only to deliver prisoners or food. Occasionally, Bayan had visited, driven by curiosity, but now he was on the wrong side of the great door.

    Uma opened it slowly, carefully. Bayan couldn¡¯t see clearly, but he was sure it wasn¡¯t the cooks or guards standing there. Before her stood a slender, beautiful girl, dressed in a white gown with dark hair. She was a vision of beauty, a rarity in this place. Then Bayan recognized her. It was Talia.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Uma managed to utter.

    ¡°Uma? You¡¯re Uma, right?¡± Talia¡¯s tone was courteous, even with her.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Uma. May I come in?¡±

    Talia¡¯s politeness was a masterstroke. She could have easily commanded her way in, yet she chose to ask. Uma wasn¡¯t even on the level of the kitchen staff, let alone someone like Talia.

    ¡°I¡¯m Talia,¡± the girl introduced herself, detecting Uma¡¯s uncertainty. ¡°One of the queen¡¯s ladies. May I come in?¡± Talia asked again, though she had every right to enter uninvited.

    Uma immediately stepped aside, opening the door wider. Talia entered, and the room seemed to brighten.

    ¡°What a beauty!¡± Ora didn¡¯t miss the opportunity. ¡°A beauty, a beauty!¡±

    Ora was dancing again, if one could call it that, or perhaps just hopping about in her cell.

    Talia smiled, clasping her hands in front of her like a little girl shyly entering a room full of adults. She looked around at the cells, her gaze falling on Bayan, who caught the smile she directed at him. Talia moved toward him.

    ¡°No, milady,¡± Uma tried to stop her. ¡°You can¡¯t. Please.¡±

    Talia turned to her with a smile. Her expression made her even more beautiful. Uma approached Talia and gently took her hand, trying to protect her, but Talia misunderstood. The sweet girl looked at her with a gaze that was no longer so kind and innocent. Uma immediately let go and stepped back. The smile returned to Talia¡¯s face.

    ¡°Bayan?¡± she said. ¡°Bayan, it¡¯s me, Talia. I¡¯ve come to get you out.¡±

    ¡°A-alright,¡± Bayan was surprised.

    ¡°No, madam. The guards said he must stay here,¡± Uma attempted to intervene.

    ¡°Uma, do you want Queen Selene to come down here herself to get him out?¡± Talia asked.

    ¡°No.¡± Bayan could see that Uma had no desire for that. He could tell by the way she stepped back.

    ¡°Neither do I. So, let¡¯s finish what she sent me to do.¡± Talia reached for her hand, but Uma didn¡¯t realize and stood frozen.

    ¡°Come, Uma. I¡¯ll tell the queen you did well,¡± Talia coaxed.

    ¡°Let the boy go, you fiends!¡± Ora shouted from behind them. No one paid her any attention.

    Uma pulled out the keys, counting them one by one until she found the right one. She slid it into the lock, turned it, and it clicked open.

    Talia entered the cell. Bayan was right.

    ¡°What got into you, Bayan?¡± she asked. ¡°Why were you following us?¡±

    Bayan glanced at Uma, then back at Talia, his expression one of confusion, as though he didn¡¯t know where he was.

    ¡°I needed to speak with you, Talia. But something happened. I don¡¯t remember much. I saw you and wanted to come, but the guards stopped me. I climbed the stone wall, and then¡­ I woke up here. With Uma.¡±

    Uma blushed and turned away.

    "You can tell me more later," Talia said as she took Bayan¡¯s hand, guiding him through the center of the dungeon. Uma made no move to stop them. The door closed behind them, leaving Uma alone with Ora, as usual.

    They walked through the dark, long corridors. The dungeon receded into the distance, with only Ora¡¯s voice echoing faintly behind them. Bayan thought of Jasmine. Could he now see her face?

    ¡°You need to hide. The people from Volkar are here.¡±

    ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Any moment now, they¡¯ll enter the hall where Selene is. I used the commotion to get to you. I¡¯ve been trying for so long.¡±

    ¡°What if they find out you let me out?¡±

    ¡°Leave that to me. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be a problem. I need you to go straight to the servants¡¯ quarters from here. Do you hear me?¡± Bayan nodded. ¡°And don¡¯t come out until King Severin leaves. Do you hear me, Bayan?¡±

    Bayan nodded again and stopped in his tracks.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°May I kiss your hand?¡±

    ¡°Bayan? You don¡¯t need to¡­¡±

    ¡°I insist.¡±

    She glanced around, then offered her hand, albeit shyly. Bayan had heard that this was how nobles thanked ladies, and so he did the same. He took her hand, bowed, and kissed it. She felt his kiss and quickly pulled her hand away.

    ¡°From here, you¡¯re on your own.¡±

    Then he watched her retreating back. He was content. It was all worth it. He held her bracelet in his hand.

    He didn¡¯t wait long, nor did he have time to. He ascended the stairs behind Talia. When he reached the top, instead of heading to the servants¡¯ quarters, he made for the library. Several guards called after him, but he didn¡¯t stop. If the King of Volkar was indeed coming, they would be busy with him. They wouldn¡¯t bother chasing Bayan.

    Two women approached, each carrying massive trays. Both were stout.

    ¡°Watch it, boy!¡± one of them shouted at him. They were the kitchen maids, and what they carried smelled so delicious that it made his mouth water.

    He pressed against the wall to let them pass and heard their grumbling behind him. He silently thanked Jasmine for making him memorize everything. He could find the library with his eyes closed.

    After the second corridor, the guards were gone. They were all gathered in the grand hall where Selene spent her days. Outside, the sounds of voices and the sense of a crowd milling about were palpable. Somewhere, someone was singing.

    ¡°You? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in the dungeon?¡±

    Roth stood before him, blocking the path to the library. He was dressed in his finest robe, or at least the cleanest.

    ¡°They released me. A mistake.¡±

    ¡°A mistake, huh¡­¡± Roth didn¡¯t believe him but didn¡¯t care. He just wanted to pass.

    ¡°May I¡­¡±

    ¡°No. Jasmine isn¡¯t seeing anyone today. And everyone should be with Queen Selene.¡±

    ¡°No one was seeing anyone yesterday either, but you lied to me.¡±

    Roth rolled his eyes and stepped aside. Bayan shoved open the door to the small room and barged in.

    ¡°Rat?¡± Jasmine¡¯s whispering voice asked.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s Bayan.¡±

    ¡°Bayan? Rat told me¡­¡±

    He couldn¡¯t see her, but he could hear her. Her voice was soft. He searched for her on the bed, but she wasn¡¯t there. She was seated in her chair by the large wooden table against the wall.

    ¡°Talia released me.¡±

    ¡°Talia¡­ Why?¡±

    ¡°Because they detained me because of her. I thought you¡¯d seen.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She didn¡¯t turn to face him. She spoke with her back to him. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get in after that. Something was blocking me. There¡¯s something in those dungeons.¡±

    ¡°So you knew I was in the dungeon.¡±

    ¡°They take everyone there. Why have you come? Rat said the next few days will be difficult even for him to visit. King Severin¡¯s grand visit.¡±

    Bayan wasn¡¯t listening. He simply handed her the bracelet.

    ¡°A bracelet? Whose?¡± Her eyes widened. He was certain she already knew.

    ¡°Talia¡¯s.¡±

    <hr>

    The heavy footsteps outside hinted that people were beginning to gather. Severin would enter soon. She had only a little time left. The formalities outside would last just long enough for her to slip the ring with the eye onto one finger and Talia¡¯s necklace onto the other.

    Bayan had left. The boy wanted to stay, but she wouldn¡¯t allow it. It was dangerous for him to be around her when she was in these states. Yes, she often let him stay, but now wasn¡¯t the time. And Bayan needed to be there, lingering nearby in case something happened. To be her legs, just as he had been her eyes.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    She had used the ring twice in the past two days. It had exhausted her. Just thinking about it filled her with disgust and hatred. She didn¡¯t even want to touch it. The ring had a personality of its own. The moment she reached for it, it would seem to withdraw, vibrating strangely. Jasmine would throw it back onto the wooden table before her, and they would stare at each other. She hated it, and it hated her. But it needed to be used one more time.

    She managed to reach the bed and looked at it. The ring was troubling her again. It even seemed to have changed color.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like you either,¡± she said aloud. She felt slightly embarrassed talking to it, but the ring seemed to hear her. It vibrated slightly. When she lay down and relaxed, her body caught fire. Strangely, she had never felt this before. It was as if something was restraining her. Perhaps she was indeed overusing it.

    Outside, all became silent. Footsteps echoed through the corridors of the kingdom, somewhere above her chamber. They were already inside. She had to grasp the necklace and close her eyes. She did so. But nothing happened. She squeezed harder. Something burned her. She continued to squeeze despite the pain.

    Then she fell asleep and opened her eyes in the throne room, or the hall where Selene liked to hold court.

    Selene stood tall and poised like a true lady. Jasmine remembered their mother Lira¡¯s lessons. She had taught Selene well. Talia stood at her left, and the red-haired Valerys stood on her right.

    Her sister hadn¡¯t changed much over the years. Only her face had started to show a few rough edges, but otherwise, she was the same. Jasmine could see and feel everything that Talia did. Somehow, she had managed to sync with the ring this time. She felt joy, which almost pulled her out of the dream. She calmed herself and allowed the scene to unfold before her. She couldn¡¯t see the third of Selene¡¯s ladies¡ªIvora.

    The hall smelled of roast pork and wine. Jasmine hated pork, especially its smell. But she had to endure it. She couldn¡¯t always taste or smell the body she inhabited, but this time, the connection was strong.

    Talia had placed both hands in her lap. Her gaze shifted between Selene and the guests. Jasmine caught a glimpse of Severin. He was exactly as she imagined him¡ªlarge, with dirty, unruly hair and a strong frame that strained his armor. She remembered him as a younger man. Back then, he had been the age of the young man beside him. And that young man must be his son¡ªeither Borin or Bromir.

    If the old healers¡¯ sayings were true, that the first son takes after his father¡¯s face and the second his character, this must be Bromir. He was the spitting image of Severin, though much younger, but he resembled Severin at his age.

    ¡°You¡¯ve surprised me with this dagger,¡± Severin said, turning a small weapon in his hands. Jasmine could only glimpse the emblem of Meihar¡ªa beautiful falcon.

    ¡°It¡¯s our tradition, King Severin,¡± Selene replied. She also held a similar, even identical, dagger. ¡°Most likely, if your father ever came here, our mother would have given him the same. Or something similar.¡±

    ¡°How is your sister, Queen? Is she in the kingdom?¡± Severin raised his head.

    The very first question froze Jasmine. She was stirred. Severin remembered that Selene had a sister. He remembered her. Jasmine felt Talia¡¯s heart start to race. She was provoking it. Talia felt her emotion. She managed to calm herself. Talia also calmed down.

    ¡°No.¡± Selene lied. ¡°My sister went to seek her fortune elsewhere,¡± Selene continued to lie.

    This only made Jasmine angrier. But it was for the best. This way, she wouldn¡¯t have to be present or summoned. She was too afraid to go and didn¡¯t want to see them.

    Talia wasn¡¯t talking to anyone, which irritated her slightly. She needed to learn more. Now she saw Ivora. She stood to the left of her and constantly sought conversation with someone, be it a maid, a cook, or even casting glances at Severin¡¯s son. And he was looking at Talia. Their eyes met several times. Jasmine had no experience with men. Her only encounters were with old Rat, who managed the library. And with Bayan. Where was he now?

    But she didn¡¯t need experience to understand Bromir¡¯s gaze and his male desire for Talia. Even through the girl¡¯s eyes, Jasmine felt the shame each time Bromir looked at her. The moment Talia caught his gaze, she would quickly look away, most often toward Selene.

    ¡°Better.¡± Severin and Selene continued to speak of her. Jasmine didn¡¯t like it. ¡°With all due respect, Queen, with the affliction she had, it¡¯s best that she¡¯s far from prying eyes. I hope she¡¯s found a loving husband, perhaps a second or third son of a wealthy family.¡±

    She didn¡¯t want to listen.

    ¡°I prefer not to speak of Jasmine, Severin,¡± Selene stopped him.

    Jasmine was pleased with her sister.

    ¡°Apologies again,¡± the lord took another sip from his cup, placing it on the table as he looked at Selene.

    ¡°And how is your wife?¡± Now it was Severin¡¯s turn to answer.

    Jasmine hoped she wouldn¡¯t wake before hearing what they had come for. She hated the formalities, but they had to get through them.

    ¡°My wife is well, thank you. She takes care of my daughters. She tends to the kingdom and makes it a home for all. You know, the man builds the house, the woman makes it a home.¡±

    ¡°Here we don¡¯t quite see it that way, but like you, we take joy in our daughters.¡±

    ¡°A great joy, but it¡¯s even greater if you have sons first,¡± Severin sipped again. ¡°And I have two. Both will be greater than I am. That I have three daughters after them is a gift. But let me tell you, Selene, even if I had only the three daughters, I¡¯d still love them the same way. I wouldn¡¯t treat them poorly. Nor would I send them away.¡±

    Was he attacking her or genuinely expressing his thoughts? Jasmine couldn¡¯t tell. But the conversation gradually moved forward.

    Talia was still exchanging glances with Bromir.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure, Severin. I was referring to the northern folk beyond you. Those like Chernoval and Ishold.¡±

    Severin drank again, holding the cup aloft, swirling it gently, and peering into it.

    ¡°Do you like it? The vintage is southern. It grows on our border with Solis. We tend the vineyards together and split the grapes evenly. They handle their share, and we handle ours.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably better with you.¡±

    ¡°Why do you think so?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one thing for the grapes to be crushed by gentle, clean white women¡¯s feet; it¡¯s another when it¡¯s done by the rough heels of Ajax and his men.¡±

    Selene couldn¡¯t suppress her smile. Jasmine saw that she was pleased.

    ¡°There are women in Solis too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true. But there¡¯s also sand. And beautiful women¡¯s feet with sand aren¡¯t the most pleasant thing.¡±

    Selene smiled for the second time.

    ¡°When you go down, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll say the same about us and Ajax.¡±

    ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll have time to meet Ajax. The barbarians should be halfway by now, and if what I know is true, Ajax has done nothing to stop them. If I do see him, I¡¯ll demand an explanation.¡±

    Jasmine prayed for Talia to look at Selene. She wanted to see her sister¡¯s face. She wanted to see her sister. And Talia seemed to hear her.

    Dear sister. Jasmine hadn¡¯t seen her for so long. She had been angry at Selene for not visiting, but now that she saw her, she realized how much she missed her. Memories flooded her mind, mingling with Talia¡¯s emotions.

    ¡°Tell me, Severin,¡± Selene lowered her respectful tone, ¡°why are you here?¡±

    He reached for his cup again but this time stopped.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get to the point.¡±

    Talia leaned over her plate and sipped a little of the soup before her. When she raised her head, Jasmine saw that Severin was drinking again. Jasmine liked wine too, but this man overindulged. Bromir¡¯s cup, on the other hand, was filled to the brim. And he was still watching Talia. But Talia wasn¡¯t holding back either. She was increasingly seeking his gaze. There was something between them. They seemed like people who knew each other. And if they didn¡¯t, they would soon enough. Jasmine didn¡¯t care about them. She wanted to know more about Severin and why he was here.

    ¡°Since you¡¯ve come in person, you must be here for something else, my lord,¡± Selene said, glancing at Talia. Through the girl¡¯s eyes, Jasmine could see her sister¡¯s gaze. ¡°If you just wanted soldiers, you could have told my guards.¡±

    Severin was trying to spear something with his fork but couldn¡¯t hit the mark on his plate. He set the fork down and took another sip. Then he looked at his son.

    ¡°Bromir is getting married. And as is customary in all the western kingdoms, I want to invite you to his wedding.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Selene exclaimed aloud, which seemed to surprise even her. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful, congratulations, Bromir,¡± she said, glancing at his son. He was still casting glances at Talia. ¡°But that could have been in the letter,¡± Jasmine was surprised too. This was one of the last things she expected.

    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think you didn¡¯t want me here, Lady Selene. You keep trying to find out why I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°No. The whole kingdom is excited you¡¯re here. And I think you see that.¡±

    ¡°For the whole kingdom, I don¡¯t know, but I hope at least you¡¯ll welcome me well.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we doing that?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see, magical wine and beautiful women. What more could I want?¡± He smiled. At the table, he was different. He didn¡¯t seem like a lord or ruler of lands. He looked like an ordinary man, one of the most ordinary for whom getting drunk was the only goal.

    ¡°Please, Severin, let¡¯s stick to the subject.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s return to the wedding. I invite you, your ladies, and anyone you deem necessary to my son¡¯s wedding.¡±

    ¡°And the battle with the barbarians?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be back by then. Tomorrow we¡¯ll head south, push them back, and if we¡¯re not too tired, we¡¯ll speak with Ajax. Then we¡¯ll head back up.¡±

    ¡°So the wedding is soon?¡±

    ¡°Very soon. When summer ends and before the first day of autumn.¡±

    ¡°The empty day? The day of the gods? Bold. So it¡¯s even sooner than I expected. We will, of course, honor the invitation. We can¡¯t wait to meet the princess and future queen of Volkar.¡±

    Severin glanced at Bromir. He stood proudly upright.

    ¡°She¡¯s very beautiful. And from a noble family.¡±

    ¡°A noble family? From your court?¡±

    ¡°No. The bride is Loren Jar. Daughter of Uther Jar from the house of Jar, who holds the sunlit cliffs.¡±

    Jar? Jasmine knew of Jar. She had read about them. One of the last families in the northern part. Where now everything had been taken over by Ishold. They guarded the northern part of the Middle Sea. She understood why Bromir¡¯s choice was what it was. This wasn¡¯t a choice of love. Or at least she doubted it. It was very likely that he had been pushed by his father.

    She saw Severin sipping again.

    ¡°All the kingdoms will attend?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m inviting everyone, but who comes is up to them.¡±

    ¡°But if they don¡¯t come, it¡¯ll be an insult to Volkar.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be an insult first to the Pact. But I can¡¯t force anyone. Still, the agreement of the five cannot be undone by something like this. But my relations with some of the other kingdoms will definitely be shaken.¡±

    ¡°Have you visited all to invite them?¡±

    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t plan to invite you personally. I didn¡¯t think it was necessary. I came down here because of the barbarians.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯re just a stopover?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be offended. After all, I could have taken the main road, and then you¡¯d wonder why I didn¡¯t stop to greet you.¡±

    ¡°But you need our warriors too. That¡¯s why you came.¡±

    ¡°Believe me, I¡¯ll push them back even without your help. But I think it would be good for your red-haired warriors to taste the joy of battle. And if we win, which is not even in question, everyone will be happy. Even your warriors, even you. Men need to change their blood from time to time. And that can¡¯t happen without a few battles. A man is not made to stay in one place. He must bleed, fall, and then rise.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to bleed in battles.¡±

    For a moment, Severin fell silent. The cup was again in his hands. This time he didn¡¯t drink; he just held it.

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t love to fight, you¡¯d let men do it for you. But you don¡¯t have men here. You love to fight. And that¡¯s why I think we¡¯re starting an unnecessary argument. We all know what you¡¯ll decide in the end.¡±

    ¡°The six ladies you saw in the last round¡ªTera, Rena, Oriana, Zephyra, Melis, and Helia. What do you think of them?¡±

    The conversation between her sister and Severin was so captivating that even Bromir had stopped gazing at Talia, and the empty looks Talia cast his way went unanswered. No one else at the table spoke except the two rulers of the two kingdoms. And everyone watched them closely. Jasmine wanted this. She wanted to know what was happening, even though she was hidden in nothingness, and no one knew about her.

    ¡°As far as I saw, two of the ladies are injured.¡±

    ¡°My only concern is for Melis. But she assures me she¡¯s fine. And the six are eager to show you that, despite being women, they¡¯re no less than your men.¡±

    ¡°I never doubted they were good warriors. But they can¡¯t be better than a man.¡±

    ¡°Just keep them safe, Severin. I don¡¯t want any of them to get hurt. Protect them, but don¡¯t help them. They¡¯ll handle the rest.¡±

    ¡°You have my word.¡± Severin seemed to have been waiting for this moment and raised his cup. Jasmine had noticed that this was his favorite thing of the entire evening. But this time, everyone at the table followed suit.

    ¡°We will come to Bromir¡¯s wedding. Myself and my ladies.¡± Severin looked at each one of them. When Jasmine¡¯s eyes passed through Talia¡¯s, she felt the pain. She missed Selene. So much time had passed without visiting her. ¡°It will be a pleasure to see your kingdom. And as for the other matter? Are you sure about the barbarians?¡±

    ¡°Two different little birds told me. Both work in those areas. And by little birds, I don¡¯t mean¡­¡±

    ¡°I know what you mean,¡± Selene interrupted him. ¡°You¡¯ve placed your people even among mine. That¡¯s against the Pact.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not a word about that in the Pact. And let¡¯s be honest, you¡¯d lie if you said you don¡¯t have people in the North. Or that you don¡¯t listen to the traders¡¯ gossip about us and those to the north of us.¡±

    Selene fell silent. But Jasmine knew Severin was right. What he spoke of was normal, and she didn¡¯t understand her sister¡¯s reaction.

    ¡°Even if I¡¯ve heard something, I don¡¯t trust it.¡±

    ¡°Because you don¡¯t pay them. If you paid them, the information would be much more reliable.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re insulting Meihar and me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to insult you,¡± Severin exuded calm. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here for that. Just think about what I¡¯ve said.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why the barbarians have started again?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no. What I know has been known to all for years. They¡¯re chasing some legend about the gods of the North. They can¡¯t sail, so their only chance is to pass through the path. And I¡¯m sure many of them want revenge for the last battle.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just let them reach the North?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s strange that I¡¯m having this conversation with one of the five. The Pact explicitly states that¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you about the Pact!¡± Selene didn¡¯t let him finish. ¡°I¡¯m asking about the logic behind it.¡±

    ¡°My and your ancestors were wise people. And if they wrote it, there¡¯s a reason. I can tell you the legends, but you already know them, and it won¡¯t be anything new to you.¡±

    ¡°Still, they¡¯re just legends.¡±

    ¡°Legends that Florentina and Cassian believed in so much that they wrote them themselves into the agreement. So I prefer to trust them rather than think about how to amend what was written by people much stronger and wiser than me.¡±

    Jasmine knew the legends too. Her entire life of inactivity, reading books while sitting in her chair with immobile legs, had at least given her knowledge. She had dedicated herself to reading as many books as possible and knowing more than others. Knowledge was her weapon. Her sword.

    ¡°My six girls will be waiting for you in the morning, Severin. I¡¯ll also send two healers to help you. And if you return them all alive, you¡¯ll gain even more of my respect.¡±

    ¡°Whether they return alive depends solely on them and the god you worship.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s time to say that the morning is wiser, and it¡¯s gotten quite late,¡± Selene placed her hand on Valerys¡¯. Everyone at the table saw it. Talia did too. Jasmine watched through her eyes. She had suspected that her sister slept with one of the three ladies before, but Valerys? Or had she just chosen her for the night? Jasmine felt a twinge of jealousy.

    Talia whispered something in Ivora¡¯s ear. Jasmine couldn¡¯t hear it over the noise in the hall, this time coming from the servants clearing the table. In the background, the court singers hummed something softly to create an atmosphere and not disturb the conversations.

    Talia stood up slowly.

    Somehow, this startled Jasmine, and she woke up. She had managed to hear what she wanted, but she wanted to hear a little more. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was in vain. It was the beginning of the night, and although the important things were already clear to her, she hoped to see just a little more.

    She didn¡¯t know how much time had passed, whether it was a moment or the entire evening, but drenched in sweat and with slight nervousness, she still managed.

    The ring was still on her when she reached for the food on her dinner tray. She couldn¡¯t remember when it had appeared or who had brought it, but she was grateful. She always felt hungry after using the ring. Afterward, she drank all the water they had left her. And then she¡¯d fall asleep.

    But now it wasn¡¯t like that. Just as she bit into the bread, the ring burned her again, and before her, images began to appear. Images of people. It was as if she heard voices too.

    She closed her eyes.

    <hr>

    She wasn¡¯t in Talia¡¯s body. She could see the long corridors of the castle, but she didn¡¯t feel the body like before. She wasn¡¯t in Bayan¡¯s either. But whose body was she in? She wanted to go back. She wanted to see her sister again. To hear more from the table where they were. It seemed time had stretched out. It seemed she had missed it. Was she seeing someone¡¯s memories, or was it happening now? But the body she was in was scared. Yes, the emotion wasn¡¯t hers. The body was trembling. It seemed to fear the dark.

    She heard footsteps.

    They came from the end of the corridor.

    They were quiet and light. At first, she saw nothing unusual and continued to walk down the corridor. Still, she was afraid. Then she looked at her hands. They were the hands of an older woman. Slightly worn, slightly injured, and a little shriveled. And they were trembling. She continued bravely toward the footsteps. Jasmine didn¡¯t understand why she was doing it if she was afraid.

    Then she saw the figure. It was a small, slender figure.

    It was probably a woman.

    She stepped toward the wall of the corridor. Most of the candles that usually lit the place had gone out. Only in the morning would someone come and light them one by one. Just before the queen and her ladies woke up. The queen always woke at the same time.

    The figure ahead came closer. She walked upright and confidently. Jasmine was now certain it was a girl. But what was she doing alone at this time? The rooms in this corridor were almost always empty.

    She knew these rooms. One of them now belonged to King Severin. In front of one of the rooms, there were two of the queen¡¯s guards, who were slightly dozing. They didn¡¯t notice her. And she wasn¡¯t moving now. She waited for the girl to approach. She thought to block her way, but she didn¡¯t. Curiosity trembled within her.

    ¡°Is someone there?¡±

    More footsteps.

    Then a second person appeared.

    The two unknown figures in the dark began talking to each other without paying her any attention. The man¡¯s voice was deep but not as throaty as King Severin¡¯s. The king¡¯s voice echoed throughout the kingdom, especially when he laughed. This voice was similar, but not exactly the same. The other person, with the smaller figure, probably a girl, spoke rarely, but her voice was gentle and flowed through the corridor.

    Jasmine recognized her. So did the body she was in. She felt it.

    The girl was Talia, and the man opposite her¡ªBromir.

    She didn¡¯t recognize her until they stopped in front of the young prince¡¯s room. This was something more interesting. Jasmine hoped the body she was in would approach. And she hoped it wasn¡¯t Bayan. If he got caught a second time, he¡¯d spend more time in the dungeon. And this time, not even Talia could save him. But it wasn¡¯t Bayan. His hands weren¡¯t that old. And he was a bit taller.

    The body took two steps forward, emerging from the shadows. Just enough so none of them could see it.

    The door to the room opened. The first to enter was the girl, likely Talia. Bromir stayed at the entrance, watching her back. The woman through whose eyes Jasmine was watching took another step forward. Bromir didn¡¯t move. He waited for her, reached out, and closed the door. But he stayed outside. And stood before the closed door. He behaved strangely. But then he turned and saw her. He looked her straight in the eyes. And that gaze reached Jasmine too.

    ¡°Come!¡± he said softly and calmly.

    The body obeyed obediently. Bromir didn¡¯t wait for her to come. He walked toward her, reached out when he was close enough, and grabbed her shoulder. Then he pulled her close to him.

    His scent was of roses. Jasmine smelled it. Sometimes she could smell the body she was in. She tried to recall where there were roses in the kingdom, but she couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Did you see the other person?¡±

    ¡°It was¡­ it was Lady Talia,¡± she spoke barely above a whisper.

    Bromir released her, wiped his forehead, and looked up at her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like that answer.¡±

    The woman tried to apologize, but it was too late. Jasmine felt the chill in her stomach. For the first time, she felt something like this in another¡¯s body. There was an iron taste. It was as if she had swallowed metal. The woman placed her hand on the spot. Right where she felt the chill. She raised her hand. It was covered in blood.

    Her knees buckled, and she fell. Jasmine stayed with her until the end. Even when she was already on the ground, she could see through her eyes. She saw Bromir re-enter the room, where Talia had entered earlier. The guards beside the door were still asleep.

    Then the woman closed her eyes.

    And Jasmine opened hers.

 Silvia

    Once again, she dreamt of her sister. She was standing still, but unlike before, she wasn''t small and harmless. They weren''t in the courtyard of the kingdom where they usually lived, even though neither her mother nor her father were noble. They weren¡¯t children anymore. Her sister was taller and more beautiful than she, but she looked at Silvia with disapproval. She had seen that look before, specifically on the night Silvia told her they might be seeing each other for the last time. Silvia knew why she dreamt of her now¡ªbecause the memory of her sister had lodged itself in her mind like a nail and constantly haunted her. One of the things she would never forgive herself for was abandoning her. She loved her parents too, but she didn''t regret leaving them. Even when she returned and they no longer accepted her, she still loved them and had no regrets. But she did regret leaving her sister. Her sister had been more delicate, more sensitive, and she cried often. She cried over everything. She cried when Silvia left. She cried when she returned, though by then her sister had to leave. And she never saw her again except in dreams like the one now.

    Her sister stood there, staring at her with that same look. Silvia ran toward her, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn''t get closer. She stopped suddenly. Her sister raised her hand and waved. Now, she smiled. Silvia smiled too. Something inside her felt at peace. She had forgiven her. That was the most important thing¡ªthat her sister forgave her.

    A sharp pain in her leg brought Silvia to her knees. Now she really couldn¡¯t reach her sister. She was on her knees, and her sister turned her back and walked away. Silvia wanted to stop her, tried to lift her hand to do so, but she couldn¡¯t. All she could do was watch her sister enter the kingdom, heading into the castle of Chernoval¡ªthe place where Silvia had last left her. Two horses followed her sister. They were probably white, though Silvia couldn¡¯t quite remember. She tried to follow, but the pain in her leg was unbearable. Her legs felt as if stone blocks were tied to them.

    After another effort, she awoke. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was from fear or the pain, but she knew she had been dreaming. The pain was the only real thing; everything else was just a dream.

    She squinted in the dark. There were windows, but only moonlight entered the small room where she was. The moonlight was enough to reveal everything in the tiny space, but her eyes hurt a little¡ªperhaps from sleep, or because they had been closed for so long. She also felt a pain in her head. She blinked several times to clear the grit from her eyes. She was seated on a chair, with her hands tied behind her back to the chair¡¯s backrest. She couldn¡¯t feel anything else in the room behind her; there was only a wall. But in front of her, someone was there.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    She could only see the bare crown of his head. Then, his eyes glinted. He seemed like a strong man. When light flickered from somewhere, it shaped his muscles. She saw he had no beard, his face was clean-shaven. His skin, mostly bare, glistened as if damp. Probably sweat. It was stuffy here, despite the stone walls. Before answering, the man straightened in his chair and leaned back. He was holding something in his hands¡ªa knife. He was running his thumb along the blade.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± Silvia asked again without waiting for an answer to her previous question. But from the look of the man before her, she didn¡¯t expect one.

    She remembered little. She recalled wandering the streets of Mungard¡ªthat¡¯s what the place was called, Mungard. She had come with Riven. Where was Riven? Then they met Elera. Oh, how she hated her right now. Elera. Elera, who always brought trouble whenever she appeared. It was the same now. Then the streets, the dark streets, and that whore. The whore she had killed. Or had she? Did they know? Did this man in front of her know about the whore? Or had they captured her for something else? And those in the stable? Who were they? She hadn¡¯t killed any of them¡ªRiven had. Riven. Oh, how she missed Riven now.

    ¡°The master said to guard.¡±

    The hulking man stood up. He wore only a loincloth to cover his male parts. Everywhere else, he was naked. His face didn¡¯t seem ordinary, but Silvia attributed that to the moonlight streaming in. When he got closer, she saw it was a normal man¡¯s face, though a bit broad, sagging, and thick. Thick as if all his body fat was concentrated there.

    ¡°To guard me from what?¡±

    ¡°No questions.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°The master said no questions.¡±

    ¡°Are you stupid?¡±

    ¡°Shhh.¡± His thick fingers pressed against his lips. He had raised his hand, and the knife was in it.

    He was stupid. As strong as he was, he was that stupid. A familiar combination. If he were smart, they wouldn¡¯t have left him just to guard. So she wasn¡¯t particularly surprised. Instead, she decided to provoke him.

    ¡°Go ahead, ugly, kill me.¡±

    He backed away, seemingly frightened.

    ¡°I won¡¯t kill you,¡± he replied, the first coherent sentence he had spoken.

    ¡°Then let me go.¡±

    The big man looked behind him, toward the door to the hall. No one was coming in, but he seemed afraid of someone. He was strong but simple-minded. And he could barely speak. As if he had only recently learned to talk. She had only seen one other person like him. He had been a barbarian, learning to speak the common tongue. He had sounded much the same. It wasn¡¯t uncommon to kidnap barbarians for local purposes. And this one, they had clearly chosen well. He might not speak, but he certainly instilled fear.

    Silvia tried to stand. The big man approached but didn¡¯t do anything. He didn¡¯t even touch her. She sat back down on her own. He was at least twice, if not three times, her size. When he saw she was calm, he retreated.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Nero,¡± he answered quickly, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask.

    ¡°All right, Nero. My name is Silvia.¡±

    He continued to stare at her blankly, as before.

    ¡°What¡¯s your master¡¯s name?¡± She knew he had one. There was no way this brute could run anything more than his empty head.

    Nero turned around, looked around, then looked back at her and answered, ¡°Oryk.¡±

    ¡°Oryk?¡± She repeated after him, trying to remain calm. ¡°Where is this Oryk now?¡±

    ¡°There,¡± he pointed at the door behind him.

    At times, he seemed like a baby. And he acted like one. Nero turned his gaze back to her, but now he seemed irritated. He jumped and swung the knife at her. He was far enough away not to hit her, but still, it was threatening. The air from his swing lightly tousled her hair. Silvia was frightened. She hadn¡¯t expected that. Her eyes had adjusted. She could see more of the room now.

    There was a noise behind the door to the large hall. Someone shouted. Then there was a thud, followed by something slamming against the door. Nero jumped and headed that way. Silvia decided to stay put. She could have used the commotion, but she didn¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t the best moment. And there was only one door. Where could she go? She was tied up. Maybe her legs were free, but she didn¡¯t fancy running with a chair strapped to her back. She had done that once before, thinking it was a good idea to smash the chair against the wall to break it. Well, it wasn¡¯t. She would rather cut the ropes. But there was nothing sharp around to free herself.

    The door opened, and two people fell to the ground. One was a man, the other a woman. She recognized them. One was Riven, the other Elera. She felt both anger and joy. On one hand, she was glad to see them, but on the other, the anger toward them still boiled within her. Especially toward Riven. What had that bastard been doing with Elera while they were together? And how had they even gotten caught? Silvia was a woman and alone. They had surrounded her and captured her. But them? They were two, and they fought well. She couldn¡¯t believe she was seeing them here. She had secretly hoped they had escaped, even if it meant it was just the two of them. Everything was lost.

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    Both Riven and Elera were alive, crawling on the floor. Riven was clutching the ground with his palms, trying to stand. A tall man kicked him in the stomach, making him roll over again. The fact that they were alive calmed her, though the anger still simmered when she thought of them together. She started to sweat, and her hands trembled. Not again. She was succumbing to the tension again. And she shouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Nero, is this one behaving?¡± The man stepped between Riven and Elera. He wasn¡¯t very tall, but he was broad and solid in the shoulders. He had a beard, from what Silvia could see in the darkness, and wore high-heeled boots that added a bit to his height.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nero answered curtly.

    ¡°Have you hit her?¡±

    Nero hesitated before answering. He looked at her.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t. So she¡¯s been behaving.¡±

    Nero nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m bringing her friends over. I think they know each other well.¡±

    Two men appeared behind the apparent master of this place. Each took a person¡ªone grabbed Riven, the other Elera¡ªand dragged them toward Silvia.

    ¡°Nero, tie them up too. They¡¯ll face trial tomorrow.¡±

    Nero looked surprised. He suddenly jumped to work, starting with Riven.

    They placed him in a chair next to hers. Riven was conscious, but his eyes were closed. He wasn¡¯t speaking and kept turning his head left and right, as if he were having a nightmare. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead.

    ¡°Riven?¡± she whispered to him softly.

    He didn¡¯t answer. Suddenly, she wanted to embrace him. She felt sorry for him. What had these brutes done to him? The big Nero started tying him up. He told Riven to put his hands behind his back, but Riven didn¡¯t comply. Nero shoved the chair and took them himself. Riven didn¡¯t even seem to know what was happening, probably didn¡¯t know where he was. Silvia¡¯s eyes filled with tears, and her heart pounded. She tried to control herself.

    They placed Elera in a chair on her other side. Elera could see, but her eyes hadn¡¯t adjusted, and she was frantically looking around.

    ¡°Elera, calm down,¡± Silvia tried to speak to her.

    ¡°Where are we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°We were looking for you.¡± She spoke loudly. Everyone around could hear her. ¡°There was a dead woman. We thought it was you, but it was some whore. They surrounded us and captured us. They think Riven killed the whore.¡±

    Elera wouldn¡¯t stop talking.

    The broad-shouldered man signaled for Nero to step aside, took the chair Nero had been sitting in earlier, and sat down on it. He looked at each of them, laughing.

    ¡°Nice story. Without asking, I¡¯ve learned a lot. Now, my dears, tell me why you¡¯re here. Why did you turn the whole town upside down?¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Elera asked, trying to stand. She couldn¡¯t.

    A beam of light seemed to come from nowhere, passing through the windows and falling on the man¡¯s face. He was swarthy and had scars on his face, like every man who had ever been in a fight. And he seemed to have been in battles, which was evident. The light irritated him, and he looked at it, then pulled back.

    ¡°The entire night was spent chasing you three. While we caught you easily,¡± he pointed at Silvia, ¡°these two resisted. They killed at least five of my men.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll pay for it. You¡¯ll pay for every one of them.¡±

    ¡°Every dead man deserved it,¡± was all Silvia could think to say. She was expecting some encouragement from Riven, which she always received, but none came. She realized he wasn¡¯t even moving.

    ¡°Even the whore?¡±

    That question made her regret speaking. Still, she tried to reason with him.

    ¡°I want you to release us and let us be on our way. We only stopped to rest for the night. That¡¯s all we want.¡±

    ¡°For just one night¡¯s stay, three people are dead in Valdemar¡¯s tavern, four in the stable, a whore, and more than five guards. And you just want to leave?¡±

    For a moment, she felt pride. Had they done all that? Actually, it was mostly Riven. She felt like she had gone back years when this was just another ordinary night for them. She smiled and looked at them. Her smile faded when she saw them again. They were beaten. Badly. Elera wasn¡¯t as beautiful as she had been yesterday. It would take time before she could show her face again without someone feeling repulsed.

    ¡°How do you know it was us?¡±

    ¡°Who else?¡± The man laughed. ¡°Mungard is a peaceful town. And I¡¯d definitely accuse you right now of killing the whore.¡±

    ¡°And them? Accuse me and let them go.¡±

    ¡°Valdemar told us everything about the tavern. I¡¯m inclined not to blame you for anything there. He said you helped him, though it will take him some time to reopen. But as for the stable¡­¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s start over,¡± the man looked around. Nero stood behind him. The others had left. ¡°My name is Oryk, and I rule this place. Now, it¡¯s your turn.¡±

    He was surprisingly courteous. But Silvia had dealt with men like him. She knew that inside, he wanted to kill her. And if possible, watch her die.

    ¡°Silvia,¡± she didn¡¯t lie. ¡°This is Riven, and this is Elera.¡±

    ¡°Are you some kind of family?¡±

    She wondered if he was mocking her. Judging by his face, he wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°We¡¯re not a family.¡±

    ¡°I see. You¡¯re with him, and he¡¯s with the other wench. You got upset and started tearing up the town. You¡¯ve turned everything upside down, and now we have to clean up and console the widows of the dead.¡±

    ¡°Do what you want. You can¡¯t accuse me of anything.¡±

    ¡°Oh, we can, and we will.¡±

    Oryk, or whatever his name was, raised his hand. Nero approached and leaned forward. Oryk whispered something in his ear. The barbarian stood up and grinned, revealing several missing teeth.

    ¡°Normally, we¡¯re a peaceful place, and I really want to keep it that way. But for all this mess, someone has to take responsibility before my people. The village is small, we have about two hundred locals. We take people from the locals to keep order. Well, now most of the braver ones are dead. And after this, it will be hard to recruit new ones. How do you recruit new ones when the previous ones were killed by some visitors? Do you leave such a trail everywhere you go? If that¡¯s the case, I¡¯ll have to kill you myself. And I don¡¯t like bloodshed around me. But everyone will want an explanation.¡±

    Silvia said nothing. She listened and was sure nothing good awaited them. She could see that Oryk wanted to keep talking. And she let him. How could she change his mind?

    ¡°I¡¯ll gather the town in the morning,¡± he looked outside. The sun was slowly rising. ¡°Actually, it seems I¡¯ve lost track of time. I¡¯ll gather the town very soon, once the sun is up. And I¡¯ll put you in the center. Let the wailing widows and their children decide your fate. I¡¯ll give each of them a weapon. I¡¯m telling you this so you can be prepared. And you¡¯ll be tied up. Let them flay whichever one of you they want. I¡¯ll stand aside and watch. If you¡¯re lucky, they might show you mercy. Though I doubt it. I¡¯ll try to tell them in detail what each of you has done. If you¡¯re smart, tell me everything and throw one of you under the cart. Let them kill that one. See, I¡¯m not so bad.¡±

    ¡°If anything happens to us, you¡¯ll answer directly to King Severin,¡± Silvia tried the last thing she could think of.

    ¡°King Severin?¡± This seemed to catch his attention. ¡°As far as I know, the king isn¡¯t here. He¡¯s gone south again to chase after those wildlings of his. He¡¯s like a lovesick puppy with them. The kingdom is ruled by his advisors.¡±

    ¡°Be grateful he doesn¡¯t know how you speak of him.¡±

    ¡°Even if he did, it wouldn¡¯t matter. I hear his son Bromir is becoming quite popular. And I get along well with Bromir. I¡¯m not worried about Severin, and honestly, I doubt you know him at all.¡±

    Silvia looked at him. She didn¡¯t have many more names to throw at him to catch his attention.

    ¡°Bromir is getting married soon.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. And his wife is beautiful. We¡¯re invited too. Everyone from the kingdom is.¡±

    ¡°Even those from the northern kingdoms?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about them.¡±

    ¡°But Bromir does.¡± She sensed an opportunity. ¡°He sent us to invite them.¡±

    ¡°He sent you?¡± Oryk laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the most ridiculous thing I¡¯ve ever heard. Who would send you? Thieves and stinking peasants.¡±

    ¡°Silvia¡­¡± Riven¡¯s voice interrupted her. She turned her head. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to cradle his face in her hands. But she was tied up. She saw that his eyes were open. He looked at her and then closed them again.

    ¡°Ah, your man is awake. Or is he her man?¡± He pointed at Elera. Silvia couldn¡¯t see her well, but she could hear her groaning. She was in pain.

    ¡°The Pink Terraces,¡± Riven said.

    Silvia smiled. She knew exactly what he meant. It even made her smile and cry.

    ¡°What did he say?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business,¡± her nose stuffed up, and tears flowed down her face.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go again, Riven. Just as soon as we get out of here.¡±

    Oryk signaled to Nero. The giant approached Riven and slapped him so hard that the sound echoed through the room. Riven¡¯s head snapped to the side, and he fell asleep again.

    ¡°Silvia¡­¡± She heard her name again. She no longer knew where it was coming from or who kept repeating it.

    ¡°Nero!¡± Oryk almost shouted. Silvia sensed the irritation in his voice. ¡°Prepare the square and gather the people. It¡¯s early, but people around here say the day is known by its morning. What better morning could we give the crowd?¡±