The Mist and the Lightning. Part 11

“And he will say: “My sister Karina helped me! My savior! I couldn't have done it without her!” Nikto said. “Karina, just don't cry, okay?”

“I won’t cry, you can scoff as much as you want!”

“And they will live happily, there, in the forest hut. Quiet and secluded. Well, and you, you will live happily in the palace, be a queen. You're crazy?”

“Say what you want! Only she is a quiet and modest daughter of a forester, and she is twenty-five years old, and every day she sits at the portal and waits and believes. And I believe! And you! You know it!”

“No,” Nikto shook his head, “I don't know it. The Upper world is not in my power.”

“If my brother managed to escape then, he would be free,” Karina said.

“But he failed.”

“At least he managed to save his Rosa. Poor, poor brother of mine. I will help him!”

“Arel, what will you say?” Nikto tugged slightly on the chain, fastened with one side to the ring in the prince’s nose, the other end was wrapped around Nikto’s wrist.

“She will forget about her brother as soon as she drives into the Red Royal Palace,” Arel said, “then it would be safer to leave him to my idiot Vil Luven. He will really take care of the cripple.”

“Do you hear?” Nikto tried to turn his head to Karina.

“You say as if I hadn’t taken you out of prison!” She said indignantly, and she really wanted to pull his hair with force.

“Wow! Yes! It was a real feat!”

“Are you kidding? I won’t comb your hair again then!”

“Yes, come on really, get finished, I'm tired of it. And it's time to go.”

Valentine, who timidly entered the room, froze on the threshold, the lower part of his face was covered with an iron strip of the muzzle, but the frightened eyes spoke for themselves.

“Is everything ready?” Lis asked sharply, he finished the wine from the glass in a couple of sips and got up from the table.

“I… yes… there…” Valentine began to stutter, trembling.

“What the fuck is it?!” Lis swore.

“A sir has come to you… he said that his name was V… Vitor… Kors!”

“WHAT?!”

Karina jumped up:

“Father?!”

“Damn it,” Lis shouted in annoyance, “he came when we need to leave! We didn't have enough time!”

He jabbed his finger towards Nikto:

“I said that we would not be in time!” Lis began to swear.

“Calm down!” Nikto payed back in his own coin. “We will have time for everything!”

“We didn’t make it in time because of your pranks and that,” Lis nodded contemptuously at Arel.

“Close your mouth!” Nikto swore too hard.

Their conversation in a raised voice sounded something like this:

“Damn, we're going to fuck it all up because of you! Instead of shoving your dick in the ass of this goner…”

“Lis, shut up your fucking mouth…”

And at that moment Vitor Kors entered the room.

“Good evening,” he said. And they fell silent, staring blankly at him.

“I realized that I couldn't wait for your servant to take me into the house and introduce me officially. I don’t want to offend anyone, but he looked somewhat mentally retarded, so I had the courage to go in myself, as it’s cold outside. And I thought that not observing official decency in your hospitable home would not be perceived as a violation of etiquette or disrespect.”

“Wh …wh… What?” Lis barely uttered, starting to stutter the same way as Valentine. And Karina rushed to her father.

“Father!” She hugged him. “I am insanely glad for your arrival!”

In response, he also hugged her tightly, and then pushed her aside, looking at her:

“I'm glad you're alive,” he said quietly.

“Everything is fine with me!” She assured him fervently, realizing that he was looking at her short hair that barely reached her shoulders.

“Sit down, Vitor Kors,” said Nikto at last. “Yes, you're right, everything is simple with us.” Because of the mask, the expression of his face was not visible.

They sat down at the table, silently and with some tension, looking at each other. The pause dragged on.

“Hm,” Kors cleared his throat, “I see you are packed, there are saddled horses in the yard, were you going somewhere? Am I in the way?”

“Did you come alone?” Lis answered impatiently with a question.

“Yes.” And seeing the obvious disappointment and annoyance in the eyes of the Fox, Kors smiled with a token smile and added: “I left my people in the town near the fair.”

“And you were not afraid to come here like this? Alone?” Lis grimaced.

“I have told you,” Kors stressed the last word, “I left a regiment of my soldiers in the town.”

“How many?! A regiment?!” Lis shook his head, as if driving away the obsession. He could not hide his emotions.

“Three battalions of three hundred men each, not counting the servicemen.”

“Where did you get so many warriors?” Lis was stunned.

And Kors laughed:

“Well… I'm pretty rich, Lis. Lis? Is that what I should call you? We never communicated closely, unfortunately, the military department for some reason believed that you were in their competence.”

“Indeed, unfortunately,” Lis smiled his trademark grin, he looked pleased and no longer so dumbfounded. “But no matter what is being done, everything is for the best! But now, I'm sure we'll make wonderful friends.”

Kors raised an eyebrow.

“I thought so too. And so I came alone, as if I were visiting friends.” He turned his gaze to Nikto and Arel.

“Make yourself at home!” Nikto said.

And Karina looked at him gratefully.

“Valentine,” Nikto ordered, “bring food and wine for our guest.”

Kors relaxed a little.

“Let's forget the old times!”

“Yes of course!”

Nikto raised a glass:

“Let's drink to the meeting!”

“For the meeting!” Kors agreed, and they drank wine. Everyone, except for Arel, who still didn’t know how to eat and drink, without removing the mask, but lifting only its lower part. Kors noticed this: “You don't take off your masks? I would like to chat with you, Nikto, seeing your face.”

“I beg your pardon,” Nikto said, and it was clear that this was not for real, “but, unfortunately, I can't take it off now, since we were going on the road, and I glue it along the edge to my face and now you fucking won’t pull it off… that is… it is no longer possible to take off.”

“Yes! I'm delaying you!” Kors stood up.

“No, no, not at all,” Lis also jumped up, “we were just going to get to the river and find a good place for crossing.”

“So far?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“To go further.”

“Further, as far as I know, is the village of Riverside, the territory of the Reds and the border fortress.”

“Exactly. We're going to take this fortress.”

“I saw that you have soldiers, but are they enough?”

“Yes, there are few of them, but why not try?”

“I'm afraid that this is too tough nut to crack, and maybe it was worth training your army,” Kors chuckled, at these words, “on smaller goals at first?”

Nikto turned to Lis:

“Lis, show him the map and tell everything.”

Lis spread a map of the area on the table and began to explain. He very quickly, competently and clearly outlined all positions and cleared areas.

And Kors was impressed, the grin left his face. Karina, watching her father, saw this and was proud of Lis. He was a born warrior and now he was in his element, communication with Nikto and Arel clearly led him to degradation, and now he seemed to have perked up.

“I'm impressed,” Kors said. “It's fair. Handsomely. No unnecessary movements, everything is very economical and at the same time productive.”

“Yes, we are not as stupid as you thought,” Nikto answered, and Lis looked at him condemningly, just as before, Arel always looked at Tol when he blurted out something out of place.

“I beg your pardon, I probably just judged the people of the prince by their master,” Kors answered with his own coin, and poor Arel, who had not said a word during all this time, again remained silent.

Kors no longer looked at him and at Nikto either, he asked Lis a few clarifying questions and received comprehensive answers. Karina saw that her father and her fiancé clearly found a common language, meanwhile as two warriors, but still.

“So how many soldiers do you have now? I didn't understand how you separate them, to be honest, you have non-standard platoons and squads.”

“Lis divided Arel’s militiamen into the red manner,” said Nikto, “the red ones form the units a little differently, you should know, Kors?”

“Yes, I know, of course, it's just that it's black.”

“Well, they are black, and our commander is red, and he is more used to it.”

“It's more convenient for me to command,” said Lis. “I'm used to the scheme of reds. What difference does it make that they are black?”

“I see,” it was obvious that Kors was a little stunned by such a blatant disposition, “and the unclean ones?”

“The unclean ones are mine,” and Nikto named the number of the unclean ones, and how they were divided.

“Are you joking? Such inconsistency?! If I bring my warriors, who are formed according to the classical scheme and the rules of the black army, how will we bring all this to a common denominator?”

“Let's figure it out,” Lis smiled, “I also know the charter of blacks.”

“So, if you don’t go into details, you have two detachments of militias, a little more than a hundred people. And about three hundred unclean half-bloods, which are divided into three companies, and in one company there are fifty unclean, and in the other more than a hundred, and each with its own commander.”

“Yes,” Nikto answered him, “Nija has few soldiers, and Zaf has more. I cannot divide them equally and give Zaf's warriors under the command of Nija or Tazh.”

“That is, each commander has his own soldiers as property, this is not a very suitable alignment. Soldiers should be assigned depending on the task at hand, and not on who their commander is.”

Nikto shrugged his shoulders:

“Nothing can be done here, they are unclean.”

“You also have red ones, I noticed, in the yard?”

“Yes, the red warriors who went over to our side. There are sixty of them.”

“But they are red!”

“Every warrior is dear to us. They went over to our side.”

“But they will betray as soon as the opportunity presents itself!”

“Let them try, and half of them are former deserters of the Red Army who fled from the Red order. Ordinary guys in bad circumstances will come in handy,” Lis interjected.

“And many people know and remember Lis, have heard about him and want to be in the army of the legendary Sigmer.”

“Come on, Nik,” Lis was a little embarrassed, “they just like the local peasant women.”

“What are you doing?! Why do you mix black with red, however… more on that later… and you really count every warrior.”

“Father, reds are people too!” Karina intervened, fearing that now talk about the purity of blood, race and human waste might begin. It's a good thing that they didn't say that soon several half-breeds will be born from the red and unclean!

“Yes,” Kors shook his head, “let's leave this topic, you are not noble blacks and just don’t understand the meaning of the true code of purity. Let's go back to the territories. This area would also be worth checking out,” he said, bending over the map,

“Yes, but it is on the maps and it will be possible to draw up a plan here, focusing on them and not wasting time on exploration. Not to attract the attention of the enemy,” answered Lis, and Karina noticed with relief that he didn’t attach any importance to the hints that were offensive to every black, and as if nothing had happened continued the conversation. “How is he used to all this pretentious husk of blacks,” Karina thought with some regret, “he doesn’t react at all and doesn’t hear. How many times have they said this to him?” Nikto didn’t react either. Poor half-breeds, they are so accustomed that they don’t even hear that they are being insulted. And Karina, for the umpteenth time, mentally thanked the Gods for being born with dark eyes and hair, like all black ones.

“We will drive only to the crossing and will return within a couple of days.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I don't want to detain you now, you could go, and I would stay with my daughter and wait for you,” said Kors.

“We cannot leave Karina,” Nikto objected, “she knows the river well, since she was already there. But I would be glad if you stayed and waited for us. We will leave you all the maps of the area and leave Prince Arel, he will give you all the materials you want. Is it possible?”

“All right,” said Kors, “I'll wait for you. You are planning a very risky business, and I want to understand better and decide everything for myself. And I also want to talk on your return without masks, seriously and in a more frank manner.”

Chapter four

Kors and Arel

Vitor Kors knocked on the door of the prince’s room and entered it. Arel raised his face, still covered with a mask, from the sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. Kors looked around the room with some surprise. It was perfectly cleaned: the bed was neatly covered with a fur blanket made from the skins of the fluffy gray foxes that were found at the North Sea and here in the South were a rarity, sheer luxury. There were scraper marks on the clean wooden floor, not a single drop of wax. In the far corner of the room, on a chair, was khabir Verniy, he was without a mask, and perhaps this confused Kors. Verniy was sitting on a chair, bent over an iron bucket, in one paw he held a shiny, ornate candlestick for seven candles, but now empty, in the other – a thick wax candle. The candle burned brightly, and Ver led the flame along the curls of the candlestick. Wax adhered to complex patterns melted from the fire and dripped into the bucket. Thus, the candlestick was quickly cleared. All that was left was to wipe it down with a cloth, and it glittered again like new with gold. The second candlestick, perfectly cleaned, was already standing on the bedside table. Verniy only raised his eyes and again began to slowly move the candle over the candlestick.

“What do you need?” Arel asked first, his brown eyes shining brightly from the narrow slits of the mask.

Kors shuddered, as if with difficulty breaking away from the bewitching action, averted his eyes, from the unclean economic dog, looked at Arel:

“You don’t take off your mask at all now,” he said more caustically than questioningly, “just like your Nikto?”

“Do you need anything?” Arel repeated. “Nik said that you can address me if you need something. Only on business.”

“Yes, of course, I came on business,” threw Kors irritated, “do you really think that I came to you just to chat? I need a map of the village, if there is one, of course. And the surroundings. All surroundings.”

Kors went to the table at which Arel was sitting, and bent down, examining the book lying in front of the prince. The book was open.

“You are reading?!” Kors’ surprise knew no bounds, and now he looked very sincere. “Prince Arel, are you reading?! What is it? A textbook?”

Kors reached out and took the book, Arel didn’t stop him, and Ver, too, silently continued his meaningless, short-lived work.

“Everything is clear,” Kors chuckled, looking at the cover. “It's unclean language. You are studying unclean. All’s clear! Does Nikto make you do it? Well, how are you doing?” He put the textbook in place and took the sheet on which Arel tried to write in unclean.

Kors read aloud:

“My Demon Nik. We are together. I, Prince Arel and my Demon Nik, we love each other with love.”

And Kors laughed:

“We love each other with love?! This is cool, Arel! It seems that you can’t master unclean the same way as all other sciences.”

Arel turned away, standing up. His long dark hair covered his back, and when it was not visible that faceless black leather of a mask was on his face, he was again the same Prince Arel. Tall, thin, graceful, he walked over to the closet and took out a bunch of keys from a drawer. And then he turned around, and the magic disappeared, the mask that covered his handsome face spoiled everything, depriving the main thing for which he was nicknamed the handsome prince. And Kors lowered his gaze, he didn’t mock anymore, seeing that Arel didn’t react.

“Here are the keys,” Arel said, “my servant Valentine will take you to my father’s office. I don't know exactly what is there. See what you want if you don't have enough of what Nik left you.”

Verniy began to polish the candlestick slightly smoked with a candle.

Kors went out.

A few hours later, closer to the evening, he again disturbed the prince. There were now three candles burning in the room in shining candlesticks, wax dripping again onto the freshly cleaned surface. Arel was lying on the bed on top of the covers on his side, he got up when he saw Kors again. Verniy thundered with basins in the adjoining room.

“Prince Arel, I apologize for disturbing you,” Kors began.

“Yes?” Arel straightened the hair that fell on his face, obscuring the anyway narrow slits for his eyes.

“I found a little new in the office, really. Apparently, your Nikto or Lis have already searched everything and got what you need. But I still wanted to look at some of the maps, but they are closed in tubes and I need a key. Key-seal to open the tube,” Kors lifted the metal cylinder he had brought with him, beautifully engraved.

“Hm…” Arel drawled in confusion, “I don't remember where it is. Nik opened something with them, yes…”

“I hope he didn't take it with him?”

“I don’t think so… probably, it is somewhere here,” Arel looked around in confusion.

“You don't take off your mask at all now, Arel? Do you even sleep in it?” Kors asked again. He took a few steps towards the prince, and Verniy appeared on the threshold of the room. Ver only glanced at frozen Kors, and walked past him, carrying a bucket of water in his hands. He put the bucket in the corner of the room.

“I’ll look for it,” Arel said, “and…”

“Okay,” Kors looked a little nervously at the unclean man who was now standing behind him, “when you find it, bring it to me, please. I don’t want to see this one again!”

He backed towards the door. Verniy poured water on the floor and took a rag.

“Here, I brought it,” Arel said hesitantly and handed Kors a box with a key-seal in it.

In the room where Vitor Kors stayed there were several bottles of wine and a heap of papers on the table. He himself was sitting in an armchair, looking at the plan of the Riverside village. But when he saw Arel, he jumped up sharply, and in two steps approached the prince who was frozen on the threshold, snatched the box from his hand, while the other simultaneously slammed the door behind Arel.

“Let's talk without your dog, eh, prince?” He said quickly and angrily. “I've been waiting for this all day!” And he hit Arel in the stomach will all his power, forcing him to bend over.

“Kors, no!” Arel wheezed, not trying to fight back. It was as if it was not at his Estate, but in the office of the King's Security Chief.

“No?!” Kors hit him in the jaw, with a bang tore off the shield, which additionally closed the gap in the mask, made especially for the ring. Arel grabbed his face, covering the mask with his palms, closing the ring.

“Did you mock my daughter here? I know you very well! Did you cut off her hair?! What else did you do with her?”

Kors continued, although Arel still didn’t answer him, didn’t resist. Sitting on the floor and pressing his back against the wall, at some point under a hail of professional blows, he was forced to peel his palms off his face, but tried to cover his head with his hands.

Kors saw the ring:

“What the hell is that?!” He immediately reacted, tried to grab hold of him, but Arel managed to dodge.

“Kors, Nik will learn about this!” He cried in despair with anguish. “What should I do, Nik?! What should I do?”

And Kors stopped.

“Again you behave like a madman! Gods! You are completely sick, how could I forget! Get out!”

He opened the door, pushing Arel out, who didn’t even have time to get up. He slammed the door behind him. Throwing out the prince, Kors squeezed his temples in his hands and collapsed into a chair. He was shaking.

On stiff legs, Arel limped to his room. He entered like a somnambulist, without looking at Verniy, sat down on the bed. The shield from his mask remained at Kors. And Ver saw that Arel came without it, and his hair was tousled, and the buckle on his jacket was torn out with the roots and dangled on a piece of leather rag. The prince glanced at the unclean guiltily, looked away.

“Brush your hair,” Ver said to him in unclean language and pointed to the comb. Arel understood him, he obediently went to the mirror and sat down in front of it. He grabbed a hairbrush to smooth the tousled strands.

“Take off your jacket, it has to be sewn up,” Ver pointed to the jacket.

Arel uncomplainingly took off his jacket.

“Do you hear the owner? In your head? Do you hear him?” Ver knocked on his dog's head, trying to convey to the prince the meaning of the question.

“No, I don’t hear him,” Arel barely whispered, “I don’t hear you, Nik, forgive me.”

Ver went up to him to take the jacket, and Arel handed it to him. And Ver put the key on the table in front of Arel. It was the key to the part of the mask that covered his perforated cheek. Having opened the lock at the temple with the key, it was necessary to unfasten the buckle and remove the flap that covered the lacing.

By unlacing the slit in the mask, the hole could be opened. Arel raised his head in horror:

“No! No,” he whispered, “Nik, no.”

Ver, without another word, stepped away from the table. Sitting down in his place in the corner, he began to mend Arel’s jacket. With trembling fingers, Prince Arel took the key, there were tears in his eyes.

“Yes?” Kors distracted himself from the map, which he took out of the cylinder, using the seal. “Who's there? Valentine, is it you?”

And since there was silence outside the door, he swore and, coming up, sharply opened it.

Arel stood on the threshold, without a jacket, undressed to the waist, and Kors froze, a little dumbfounded, but quickly pulled himself together.

“Oh,” a pause followed, “do you want more, prince? Well, come in.”

Kors didn’t take his eyes off the thick ring protruding into the slit of the mask cut specially for it.

“Come in, come in.”

Arel took a step into the room, as if with an effort, his eyes were empty.

“Can't you forget our time with you?” Kors grinned, slapped Arel on the cheek so that his head dangled to the side.

“Well?” Kors looked expectantly. “Why are you only half undressed? Take everything off. As it should be.”

Arel clumsily began to pull down his pants with fingers clumsy like wooden, revealing a metal chastity belt.

Kors saw it. He saw his body covered in tattoos:

“Beautiful,” he said, “nothing can be said, it suits you. And what's that? A hole through which you can only pee? Oh, poor thing! So your lover chained you, was he afraid that you would cheat on him? Yes, you can. You are a slut of noble blood. You can't be left alone for a minute, right, Arel?”

Arel was silent.

“Well? You came so that I could put something in you, as you love. And where to? Wait,” Kors laughed, “or, judging by the way you stand, there is already something in your ass. You moron!”

Kors screamed and suddenly, going up to the table, knocked it over with a crash. Arel jumped to the side, but Kors had already grabbed him, pulled his hand:

“Where are you going? Stay, once you've come!”

He grabbed Arel, dragging him to the table, pushing on its leg, throwing his own leg over it. Arel tried to break free.

“Sit! Sit!” Kors shouted, and Arel froze. He stood with his back resting on the bottom of the countertop and with his hands back a little, clutching the edge of it. Between his legs was now a table leg, a massive four-sided one. And Arel almost lifted himself on his toes so that this wooden edge was as far away from his crotch as possible.

“Sit, I have said!” Kors sharply pressed on his shoulders, and Arel sat down with a swing, the table leg’s sharp rib bit into him, pressed on the chastity belt. The stick inserted inside the prince went even deeper from the push, and since it happened unexpectedly, Arel, unable to restrain himself, cried out, immediately tried to get up and pull himself up on his hands.