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The Mist and the Lightning. Part 17
Ви Корс


Продолжение пикантной фэнтезийной саги. Старые герои в новом приключении.

Содержит нецензурную брань.





Ви Корс

The Mist and the Lightning. Part 17



20

The Reward



Lis walked confidently, like a master, into the main hall, where Kudmer’s throne stood, and now it became his, but… the throne was occupied. And Lis froze, and a tall elderly man rose from the throne to meet him, and his bright scarlet clothes were decorated with gold so much that it seemed that flames were running over it. The same red hair, only on the temples, like a mountain ash hit with frost, was dusted with gray. Everyone looked at this man, not understanding who he was, and why he took the throne of Kudmer, and now of Lis.



And Lis also looked at him, unable to utter a word:



“Father…”



And his father said nothing and looked at him.



Prince Arel, Nikto, Vitor Kors and Karina, Zaf, Parky and several unclean ones stood behind Lis and also looked at his father in silence.



Vitor Kors came to himself first:



“I think we’d better leave them,” he said quietly.



“Yes,” Zaf agreed, he made a quick gesture with his hand away from himself, towards the unclean ones, as if waving them away, and his warriors and Parky with his three unclean ones moved back to the door.



“We will wait for you in the room next to you,” Nikto told Lis.



“Good,” answered Lis, looking at Nikto and at the same time as if looking through him. It seemed that he didn’t understand at all what was being said to him and what was happening. But when his friends headed for the exit, he stopped Karina by taking her hand and squeezing it tightly:



“Stay,” he said, and Karina froze.



“Welcome home, Sigmer,” said Lis’ father, after the three of them remained in the hall, pronouncing his name differently from how the blacks and red commoners pronounced it, and how Lis called himself, but how it should have sounded right, on the noble “supreme red” language, and it was rather: “Simer”, without such a clear and harsh “g”, and with a strong emphasis on the first syllable. “It is you?”



He carefully looked at Lis, and Lis, not letting go of Karina’s hand, sank to the floor, kneeling in front of his father, and Karina after him. Lis bowed his head, and his father said:



“You've changed a lot… what’s wrong with your hair? It is dark!”



“Yes,” Lis answered, not looking up at his father.



“But how is this possible? Did you dye it? Were you ashamed of its color? The color of your red superiority?”



“No.”



“Did the black ones inspire you to make your hair like theirs?”



“No. My hair itself darkened over time, I don’t know why, after thirty it began to darken,” Lis lied to his father so easily that Karina was involuntarily amazed.



“Really? Very strange,” Igmer said thoughtfully.



He came very close to them, and, reaching out his hand, touched the dark brown, only slightly shimmering in burgundy, Lis’ hair. “Maybe this is how your black roots appeared over time?”



“Most likely, father,” Lis finally let go of Karina, and, taking his father’s hand with both hands, kissed his fingers, Igmer allowed him.



And Lis knelt in front of him and kissed his hand, as if just a couple of hours ago he had not won an unconditional and brilliant victory over the enemy’s army, twice outnumbering his own, and had not captured the twenty thousandth Ore town, and was not fearless and a worthy commander.



“Forgive me,” he told his father.



And he, smiling, finally lifted him from his knees:



“It's all in the past,” said Igmer, peering into the face of his son with fatherly warmth, still stained with powder soot and splattered with someone else’s blood. “I have forgiven you long ago.”



He looked at Karina. She shrank, froze, lowering her eyes, since the shield of the mask hid her expression.



“But you're with her again,” Igmer said, and Karina very clearly caught disappointment and discontent in his voice.



“Karina is my wife,” said Lis, with some challenge.



“Wife?”



“Yes, father. She is my wife.”



“Not according to the red laws.”



“It doesn't matter, we are husband and wife before the Higher Forces.”



“Hmm…” Lis’ father was clearly annoyed, “well… well … Send her away now. We need to talk.”



Lis looked anxiously at Karina:



“Let me go,” she said quickly, seeing his hesitation, and without waiting for an answer, she rushed to the door herself.



Nikto, Kors and the others went out into the adjoining living room. In Kudmer’s palace, there were crystal vases with bonbons and various sweets everywhere. Zaf grinned with satisfaction and, going up to an elegant table on thin curved legs, took off the glass transparent lid from the vase and took a sugared piece of deep pink color:



“What's this?” He asked with interest.



“I think it's a succade,” remarked Kors, since none of those present was in a hurry to answer, “candied fruit.”



“I like this color,” Zaf put candied fruit in his mouth, “so sweet! What kind of fruit is it?”



“Reds have a lot of strange fruits. Maybe it is from the Upper World?” Kors looked at Parky and his two unclean ones, who were already imposingly seated on a velvet sofa and stretched their paws to sweets:



“So. Friends? What is it?! Who allowed you to sit down?!”



And everyone, except those sitting, laughed. Parky and the unclean ones jumped up and darted away from Kors. And he turned to Nikto:



“Nik, sit down!”



And he froze in some confusion. Prince Arel, without invitation, immediately sat down on the sofa, in his hands was already a gold goblet.



“Although, wait!” Kors looked around. “Parky! Bring that chair over there!”



Parky immediately obeyed the order, dragging a carved gilded chair that looked more like a throne to Kors.



“Sit down,” said Kors, and everyone looked at Nikto, and he, as always, blushed and was embarrassed by such close attention and by the fact that Kors had singled him out so.



“Vitor, stop it,” he said quietly.



“Sit down. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here! Someone disagree with me?”



And Nikto’s cheeks turned red even more, since the stripes of soot on them slightly hid it.



“Sit down!”



Nikto sat down. Zaf chuckled and ate another candied fruit.



“I know now who Lis’ father is,” said Kors as if nothing had happened, not paying any attention to the embarrassed look of Nikto, tense Parky and the slightly mocking look of Zaf.



“Did you know him?” Zaf was surprised.



“No. But I fought against him, he was in his time a very… hmmm… tough commander. To enter into confrontation with him was already tantamount to defeat.”



“And you entered?”



“Yes,” said Kors briefly, without details.



“He defeated you?”



Kors froze, and then, shaking his head, replied:



“Yes.”



“It's a pity,” said Zaf, and Kors was surprised to feel that Zaf was sincere and he was really sorry, and Kors’ honesty, the fact that he admitted his defeat, didn’t push him away. Previously, Kors would never have admitted his failure so simply and without explanation, fearing that they would not understand him and turn away from him. And now – now he boldly spoke about his failures and didn’t feel weaker from this. And he didn’t feel that the unclean ones were disappointed in him, they took it somehow absolutely calmly. Kors’ noble black associates would immediately have made bewildered faces in response to such a frank confession. Such sincerity was not accepted in their circles, everyone spoke only about their achievements. Kors felt easy and merry:



“Igmer’s army squeezed us in pincers near Vlas, I gave the order to retreat and tried to lead the people through the swamps. Knee-deep in water, we tried for several days to get out of the encirclement, but still managed to escape from the cauldron.”



“You led the soldiers out of the lethal cauldron?” Asked Zaf, his face was very serious.



“Yes. More than a thousand soldiers, but we lost Vlas.”



“Sometimes it is more right to retreat,” noted Zaf.



“Tell that to Lis,” Kors chuckled with some bitterness, “or he’s Sigmer now. Stop! How did I not immediately guess who his father was! His father’s name is Igmer, and he is his son. Igmer’s son – Sigmer! How simple it is!”



And everyone looked at Kors so that he was even embarrassed a little of their looks, just like Nick was before.



“Well, it's just…”



“Vitor, you are very smart,” said Nikto. He sat in the chair, as Kors had seated him, and also looked at Kors with respect. And Zaf handed Kors a glass of wine:



“Let's have a drink,” he suggested. “And I want to relax already, finally. There are such plump women here, have you noticed? I want to hush up some plump maid!”



“They have eaten too much sweets,” Parky remarked, grinning, opening his mouth slightly, the decoration in his nose still didn’t allow him to breathe normally. He looked longingly at the chocolate and fruit, but didn’t dare to take them without the permission of Kors.



They laughed.



“I'll take the fattest one with me to the Black City,” said Zaf, “or two. Two plump red pigs.”



“What's the point, Zaf?” Smiled Kors. “They will lose weight quickly!”



And Zaf again whinnied in satisfaction:



“Yes! But I saw one with such an ass…”



And at that time Karina entered the room, everyone turned to her.



“Karina? Everything is fine?!” Asked Kors anxiously.



“Yes… probably,” she sat down on the sofa in confusion, took off her mask, her expression was not at all happy.



“What's happening? Has Igmer accepted him?”



Karina looked at her father:



“I think so, he said, “Welcome,” but he didn't even hug him. After all, this is his son! And then, he said to me: “Send her away”, and I ran away.”



“It's okay,” Kors shrugged. “Why would he hug his prodigal son? He didn’t live up to his hopes, Lis failed the offensive, which ultimately led to the defeat of the red army, began to take drugs, “black water”, and, being almost the king of the reds in our world, slipped down and became just a banal bandit. Complete failure. He disgraced his father. I'm sure Igmer had to endure a lot of humiliation and ridicule because of his son. The reds sentenced Lis to death, he was incredibly lucky that he managed to escape. And mind you, his father, no matter what, didn’t disown him. So I think it's okay. And the fact that Igmer asked you to leave is also in the order of things. Lis is used to dragging you everywhere with him, where it is needed and where it is not needed. Red women don’t participate in the lives of men and their conversations. You will have to come to terms with this, Karina, since you chose a red husband.”



“It's just…” Karina looked upset. “He somehow toughly talks with him, and not about that… and Lis, I felt he was unpleasant from this …”



“Yes? Unpleasant? Why didn't he send him to hell, how he sent us here a hundred times a day?”



And Karina looked at her father very condemningly.



Igmer walked over to the table and sat down at it, gesturing to the chair opposite:



“Sit down.”



Lis came up and sat down, his father continued to examine him closely, and Lis looked away.



“You have changed, you have become different,” Igmer repeated again, “outwardly it seems that you have remained the same, but something in you has changed, changed a lot, and I cannot understand what!”



He again looked closely at frozen Lis, held out his hand, turning his hand towards him, looking at the inscription “Impudence”. Reds were calm about body modifications, and for warriors it was often mandatory: scarring, tattoos and piercings were not considered a sin and an unnatural distortion of the divine image of the ancestors, desecration of the body, created by the gods in their own image and likeness.



“You had scars on your face, now they are gone. Where are your battle scars? Did they disappear after thirty too?”



“No.”



“Did you remove them? Are black healers so advanced in medicine?”



“Yes, I got rid of the scars on my face.”



“Why so? Didn't you have the audacity to wear them with pride?” Igmer grinned.



And Lis said nothing.



“Okay. Congratulations. You took over the Ore town thanks to Kudmer’s stupidity. You are lucky. This fat fool was never clever, but this time his head just went blank, he kept repeating: “We will meet them behind the wall. We will meet them behind the wall”, as if a demon had possessed him, he behaved like a possessed person. However, it doesn't matter anymore. Tell me what do you intend to do next?”



“I don’t know yet,” said Lis.



His father looked at him very closely.



“You know. But you don't want to tell me. I'm not your enemy.”



Lis reflexively reached for his cigarettes and lit one. Igmer just shook his head silently and winced. Lis, without taking a couple of puffs, quickly put out his cigarette in a porcelain vase:



“Sorry.”



“What to do now, it stinks anyway! Smoke! What a disgusting habit!”



But Lis didn't light a new cigarette. He still tried not to meet his father's eyes:



“I really don't know yet,” he repeated and quickly looked at Igmer, who looked at him reproachfully.



“Some time ago I heard rumors that red commander Sigmer had appeared across the river. With his army, he cleaned the territories and put things in order, burned the regional outpost. I…” Igmer hesitated. “I wanted to believe and didn’t believe. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t think of anything, I buried you and mourned. And I was afraid that I was just flattering myself with false hopes, and there was an impostor walking across the river, hiding behind your legendary name. But when I learned that Sigmer had captured Crimson Rock… then… I believed it was you. Only you could do it! Crimson Rock is too tough for anyone. And I left the Upper World, I was waiting for you here. Because I knew my Sigmer would not stop and would move on. I knew that you would come to Ore town.”



Lis was silent, his head bowed.



“Do you know what to do next?” Igmer took out Marcus’ folded leaflet from his pocket. “And what's that?”



Lis looked at the leaflet:



“Just agitation.”



“No. Not just agitation. We thought about it with you, planned, dreamed. Many reds are thinking about independence. And now even more. We are tired of the war with the blacks. The war turned into an absurd and unpromising action. You appeared at the right time and in the right place.”



And, since Lis was still silent, his father asked:



“Tell me, how did you manage to survive in the Black City, among enemies?”



“I took on the service of Prince Arel Chig… Chester, he needed an experienced strategist in the fight against competitors for spheres of influence in the city.”



“Are you taking substances?”



Lis shook his head slowly, and, lifting the sleeve of his jacket, showed his father a chained wrist.



“Didn't you take it off? Didn't get rid of it?” His father was surprised. “Do you still wear the bracelet with which I chained you?”



“Yes. I never took “black water” again, I kept my vow to you.”



“I believe you,” Igmer said, “simply because if you continued to do this, you would not be sitting here now.”



And Lis finally looked at him point-blank.



And Igmer for the first time in all this time changed for a second in his face:



“Now I recognize you,” he whispered and was the first to look away.



He got up:



“You probably need to put yourself in order and relax…”



“No. I have a lot to do.”



“Okay. We will still have time to talk, discuss further actions, and you will see that I am your ally and you can trust me.”



“I trust you. I would like to introduce you to my comrades and friends.”



21



Overcoming obstacles



Lis, along with his father, entered the living room, where his friends were waiting for him.



“This is my father Igmer,” said Lis, “father, this is Prince Arel Chester, my patron in the Black City,” Arel, having heard these words of Lis, as always looked at Igmer with arrogant indifference and superiority and, as usual, said nothing.



And Kors even with some envy thought about how the prince managed to make such an expression on his face, despite the still clearly visible bruise under his eye and a black dot on the tip of his nose.



“This is Vitor Kors,” continued Lis, and Kors was pleased that he introduced him, though not the first, but immediately after Arel, “Vitor Kors is the father of my wife Karina, and he helps me in everything,” said Lis. Kors tried to make the same face as Arel, not knowing that he did not need to do anything for this.



Lis’ father smiled a little, and although Kors didn’t hear his thoughts, he realized that he remembered his name and knew who Vitor Kors was, but Igmer didn’t say anything.



“This is Nik,” Lis continued, pointing to Nikto who got up from the chair when Lis and his father entered the room, “Nik is the commander of the unclean.”



“Nik Kors is my son,” said Vitor Kors.



And on the face of Lis was reflected some surprise, but he remained silent, and his father perceived this, in the opinion of all those present, the unexpected revelation of Kors with absolute indifference.



“Zaf is an officer of Nik, and Parky is the captain of Vitor Kors,” Lis introduced also the unclean ones, without in any way indicating their belonging to another race, however, it was understandable anyway.



“I’m glad to meet my son’s comrades-in-arms,” said Igmer on duty, “and I congratulate you on your victory.”



He spoke in black with a slight accent of reds.



After a pause and waiting for a while, seeing that everyone was silent, he added:



“I support the idea of independence of the red underground people and I am not your enemy.”



“Well,” said Vitor Kors, realizing that the awkward silence is dragging on, and none of them, including Lis, were eager to speak, “in this case, I consider it expedient to organize a meeting of the commanders as soon as possible and discuss further actions.”



“Yes,” Lis agreed immediately.



“Shall I sketch out a plan of priorities?” suggested Kors.



“I will be very grateful to you,” said Lis, and now Kors was already surprised, but he quickly pulled himself together, returning business concentration to his face:



“We need to take control of the main vital points in the city: mines, market, temples of the gods, jewelry workshops and offices of usurers.”



“Post and Bank,” added Igmer.



“Yes,” agreed Kors, without showing that the word Bank was not too familiar to blacks, “and it is also necessary to close the city for entry and exit.”



“Nik, will you close the Portal?” Asked Lis, he looked now somehow confused, and it was so unlike him.



“Yes,” said Nik, “I'll block it.”



“There is more than one Portal in the Ore City,” Igmer said, and Lis turned pale.



“Nik, we need to find and close all the Portals,” Lis said, and there was clearly an alarm in his voice.



“Mmm,” Nikto thought a little, “I’ll start with what is in the palace, and then I'll try to come up with something.”



“All portals of the city are interconnected,” said Igmer, “there is a special key-password, and I know it. If you understand the operation of the Portals, I will give it to you, and from here you will use the password to open the exit to another Portal, seal it and open the next one. In this way, through the main Portal in Kudmer’s Palace, you will seal all the Portals associated with it in the city and surroundings.”



“Nik is very good at working with Portals,” Lis said, and there was a little confidence in his voice.



“Yes, I see,” said Igmer, his face continued to remain the same impassive, and it was not clear whether he answered sincerely or it was sarcasm.



“While Nik is doing this, I think I will have time to write letters to the heads of the seven main families of the city,” Kors decided to close the topic of Portals. “The heads of families should come to bow, demonstrate to us their submission and give the symbolic key to the city.”



“I did it in advance,” said Lis’ father, “after Kudmer announced to me that he was going to go beyond the wall, I had not the slightest doubt about your victory. Therefore, I wrote many letters, and also to the heads of families. My name will be a good reason for them to come. Besides, I know red etiquette and some subtleties. Each family has its own primary color, and I wrote letters for them on the appropriate paper, red, orange, yellow and so on. This will endear them to you, they will understand that you are not invaders or outsiders. Pressure is not the most advantageous option in this case, but it would be appropriate to enlist their support and location. So my courier is just waiting for an order.”



And Kors looked intently at Igmer, who, watching him, perfectly caught this look and smiled again with the edges of his lips, but a little stronger.



“And I also think,” with an effort, but continued Kors, “that now it will not be a war, but politics, and I understand politics, and therefore it is necessary to write as many more leaflets as possible about independence and the sale of diamonds. And let Tol’s artist draw pictures for commoners, draw as he can intelligibly: an ugly fat red from the Upper World and poor miners who give him diamonds, and their thin emaciated children in rags are standing nearby and crying!”



Igmer chuckled, shaking his head.



“There is a printing house in Ore town. It can print flyers, newspapers and orders. There are artists there too.”



“It is wonderful!” Kors didn’t give up. “It is necessary to outline the basic rules of the new order, prescribe punishments and fines, and also hang them all over the city. And hang a couple of dissenters in the square. I also consider it necessary to introduce a curfew.”



“Yes,” said Lis.



“Then get to work! And let's gather in the main hall of the palace in two hours for a final discussion. By this time, I will try to sketch out some basic theses.”



“The palace has a special conference room for such events,” said Igmer.



“Do I have to attend?” Zaf asked somehow without much enthusiasm.



“Yes!”



“No.”



Kors and Nikto spoke simultaneously, and Zaf froze, not knowing what to do now.



“I’ll give them everything they need,” Nik said. “They are warriors, not politicians.”



“And me too,” Lis said barely audibly, somehow sadly, but no one paid attention to his words.



“Okay, Nik, after all, they’re under your command, do as you see fit,” said Kors. “I don’t mind at all.”



“I, too, will not embarrass your commanding staff with my presence at the meeting,” said Igmer, “I am still a stranger to them. Will Zagpeace Gesaria be there?”



“Yes.”



“I’d better start mailing letters and visit the head of the purple house in person.”



Igmer went to the table and took a sheet of paper, wrote something on it:



“Here is the address of the printing house,” he handed the sheet to Kors, “Ore town is big, but I hope your people will not get lost, after all, this is a city, not swamps.”



And Kors, swallowing the mockery, silently took the sheet.



22



Free will



Kors, Nikto and Arel settled together in the luxurious apartments of the Rainbow Palace.



They now had a huge living room, dining room, several bedrooms and bathrooms. However, Kors was accustomed to luxury, and Nikto and Arel seemed indifferent to everything. They perceived the objects around them exclusively from a functional point of view, without paying any attention to aesthetics.



“Nik, eat,” said Kors and pushed the plate towards him. They were sitting at a set table, and Nik was still sleepy, because Kors woke him up and pulled him out of bed, and Arel stayed to sleep.



“I don’t want to, I can’t eat a morsel in the morning.”



“It's two o'clock in the afternoon.”



“I don’t want.”



“Please. Well, please me!”



“Vitor…”



And, since Nik didn’t take the cutlery in his hands and didn’t touch the food, Kors moved his chair closer to him, and, taking a fork, pricked a piece from the plate on it, handed it to Nik:



“Open your mouth, take it.”



Nik turned away:



“I’m sick even from the very sight of this food, and don’t stick that damn fork in my face! I'm afraid of it!”



They laughed.



“Nik, I'm asking you.”



“What is it?”



“Stew with vegetables and spices of the reds. Beef. It is soft, it literally melts in your mouth. Very tasty. You need to eat meat.”



Kors put down his fork, and took a piece of meat with his hand, handed it to Nik:



“Will you take it from my hands? Well, please!”



Nik quietly, barely audible and shortly growled and doomedly allowed Kors to put a piece of meat in his mouth, swallowed it with difficulty, almost not chewing.



Kors took the following one:



“I will hand feed you, my love. But you will finally get better and gain weight.”



Nik again joylessly, but obediently took the food, took it, along with Kors’ fingers, taking them into his mouth up to the very golden rings with which his hands were humiliated. A precious ring shone on each finger, and each one was worth a fortune. Kors closed his eyes slightly and breathed deeper:



“No, no… don't distract me.”



“I don’t want more, Vitor…”



“Don't growl. The last, last piece. I promise this is the last one.”



Nik obediently took another piece from his hands.



“Well, at least something,” Kors wiped his fingers with a napkin and handed him a glass of wine, “at least you have eaten a little. I’ll feed you more in the evening.”



“Oh!”



“I can’t see how your ribs are sticking out!”



“There, as if behind them, it hurts a lot, I can't eat…”



“This is hepatitis, you need to be treated,” Kors's face showed an undisguised frustration.



He looked at his pale Nik.



“Do you still love me, Nik? Haven’t you stopped loving me?” And in Kors’ voice there was some anxiety.



“I love you very much,” Nik answered simply.



And Kors smiled, pleased:



“Really?”



“Really, Vitor, I love you very much.”



“And I love you!”



“You treat me like a child.”



“Are you unpleased?”



“I’m pleased. But I’m not a child.”



“For me, you are my child. And I am your father.”



Nik bowed down and kissed his hand, kissed the precious rings.



Kors let him do it, slightly closing his eyes in pleasure.



“Why did you tell Igmer that I am your son?”



“I didn’t have to say that?”



“It is possible, but… now others can learn about it.”



“Who? Igmer is red, whom will he tell? Why would he discuss our relationship with the blacks? He didn't attach any importance to my words.”



“Well, I don't know… Vitor, this is…”



“You don’t want to be my son?”



“I really want, and I’m yours, I have written about it on my face, no?”



“Yes. Yes.”



“But I'm worried about your reputation.”



“There is no need to worry. I wanted to, and I said it. Fox now has a father, and you too!



“I hope the black people don’t know about it.



“Blacks think that you are my lover, whom I torture and keep in slavery.”



“Yes, everything is very confusing and I don't like it. One thing falls on another, these rumors around us…”



“Eh, no one really cares, Nik. Only Zagpeace digs under us, the main thing is that Peace doesn’t learn about us, and that’s it.”



“Peace is the one who knows,” said Nik and looked at Kors very seriously, and, as it seemed to him, a little guilty.



“WHAT?!”



“He guesses, or rather, he is sure of it, but so far he keeps it to himself.”



“Who had told him ?! Unclean ones?”



Nikto shook his head.



“No, of course, the unclean ones will never say anything to people.”



“Who then?”



“He guessed it himself. We are still alike, but he is attentive. Nobody saw your Iness, but everyone sees me next to you all the time. You shouldn't have brought me to them, but I shouldn’t have listened to you and took off the mask.”



Kors covered his face with his hands.



“And he realized that you are my son, and thinks that I am fucking my own son?”



“Yes,” Nik nodded, “that’s exactly what he thinks.”



“And how does he imagine it? Does he think I'm completely finished?! That I made my own son a slave and fuck him?! Is he nuts in his fantasies?”



“He thinks that your wife Iness was your white slave, and an incomplete half-blood child from a white slave – he is like trash, not important for a true black, he believes that you don’t hold me for a man. Usually, such children are simply drowned, like kittens, after birth. And that’s why you treat me this way, even though I'm your son.”



“Tell him that you are a Demon!”



“I can’t. Zagpeace hates everything Leonardo does, all these rituals, witchcraft and appeal to Demons. He hates Demons. He won’t help us, but on the contrary will interfere. It will get worse!”



“Much worse! Oh-oh-oh, fuck! What to do?”



“Nothing!”



“It’s good for you to say so, you are poor and unfortunate, you are my victim. And I am a monster, a filthy pervert! He'll put me in jail for rituals with Leonardo, for Kamiel Varah and for incest!”



Kors walked around the room from corner to corner:



“And you were silent! You didn’t tell me anything!”



“I knew that you would start to get nervous from scratch.”



“From scratch?!”



“Nothing will happen, Zagpeace won’t do anything to you and won’t put you anywhere!”



“Are you sure?”



“Yes. And now he has no time for us at all, he is looking for those reds who held him captive.”



Kors shook his head.



“If I ask you not to communicate with black people, not to talk to Zagpeace anymore, if I ask you not to approach people and not talk to them, will you do it for me?”



“Yes. I promised you this even earlier.”



“And you haven’t forgotten your promise?”



“No, Vitor, I haven’t forgotten.”



“Are you with me? Tell me? Are you with me?!”



“Yes.”



“Say: “Yes, father. I promise you not to get close to people.”



“Yes, father, I promise.”



“I promise you…”



“I promise you.”



“Not to get close to people.”



“Not to get close to people.”



And Kors, in a joyful fit, hugged him:



“Just you and me, without unnecessary people, right?”



“Yes.”



Kors gently kissed him on the cheek, on his own letter, then pulled back:



“It’s almost worn out,” there was some regret in his voice, and Nikto noticed it. He took a pencil from his jacket pocket and handed it to Kors:



“Here it is. Do as you want.”



Kors took a pencil, he heard that Nik in his thoughts quickly thought: “Or do you want to cut your letter with a knife on the back of my head?” Kors froze for a moment, but decided to pretend he didn’t understand.



With a rod soaked in black dye, he renewed his letter. He circled the lines thicker and smoother. The letter “V” stood out brightly on his Nik’s cheek again, and Kors was overwhelmed with emotions, and he understood that they were base and wrong, and that he was feeding Demon with them, and now he was feeding him much more satisfying than with meat before, but Kors couldn’t do anything with himself.



“Let’s go,” said Vitor Kors to Nikto.



“Where?”



“To the doctor.”



“What for?”



“The reds have good medicines, let him give some to you.”



“Vitor, I don't want to.”



“But you need drugs, Nik, and preferably of the Upper.”



“Can you go to him without me?”



“What nonsense?”



“Well, okay, let me go with you and wait for you behind the door.”



“Nik, don't talk nonsense! What a slavish habit of always waiting behind the door? You will just come with me to the doctor’s office, and let him help you.”



“He’s red, I'm not sure he wants to help me.”



“First of all, he heals people, he took an oath and is obliged to help!”



“But not people like me.”



“I love that you keep away from people and don’t trust them, but you don’t have to be completely wild, Nik. Let’s go, why are you against it? Everything is alright. I’m with you, my dear.”



Nik, head down dejectedly, trailed behind the confidently walking Kors, he turned to him:



“Why do you remember now how I took you to dinner with the blacks? These are completely different cases. Don’t compare the noble blacks and the common red healer.”



“He's not common, he is Kudmer’s personal doctor.”.



“And it is very good! It means that he has good expensive drugs. Reds take tattoos and scars calmly, have you seen their teeth? What are you afraid of?”



“Yes, but the red ones treat black water very badly, he will refuse to treat me.”



“What do you mean refuse? Let him try! Then I'll make him do it.”



“Vitor, no… black water is taboo for the reds…”



“We won’t tell him.”



“If he is a doctor, he will understand, and he cannot help, this is taboo…”



But Vitor Kors didn’t listen to him and entered the doctor’s office without knocking. An elderly man in a white robe and a white cap raised his head in surprise and quickly got up from the table, he quickly reached out to the stack of sheets, taking his glasses from it and putting them on.



“A joyful evening,” said Kors loudly in red and himself laughed at what he said.



“Vitor, why are you doing that,” Nikto told him inwardly, but Kors continued to smile insolently, pretending not to hear him. The doctor looked at them, two black warriors in leather clothes, hung with weapons, in some shock.



“I… I… support the policies of the new Head of the town Sigmer and the idea of independence for the red underground people,” he said quickly.



“Underground?” Snorted Kors. “What kind of stupid definition do you give to our world? Why underground? Do you think we all live underground here?”



“This is what the reds from the Upper World think, sir,” justified the doctor, “for them our world is a huge cave in which we live, yes.”



“Okay, let’s skip their silly fabrications and geographic cretinism, we have come on business and for help,” Kors said sharply, and, slightly leaning towards the doctor, carefully looked at the rectangular badge attached to his medical gown at chest level.



“Doctor Cartmer,” he grinned.



“For help?”



“My name is Vitor Kors, and this is my son, and I want you to give us medicine for him.”



“He is ill?”



“Yes.”



“What is with him?”



“He has…” Kors was a little delayed with the answer, remembering the name on the red, “hepatitis. And we need the drugs of the Upper. The best.”



“Hmm, and what kind of hepatitis does he have, what form?”



“What do you mean, the form?”



“Hepatitis is different.”



“Really?”



“You don’t know what kind of hepatitis he has and ask for medicine, not really knowing anything about his illness?”



“Listen, Cartmer, it's your job to know about diseases, I'm not a doctor.”



And the doctor smiled condescendingly:



“I have noticed. Well, we need to find out first what happened to him. Establish a diagnosis and then seek medication. It’s strange that you don’t know his diagnosis. Maybe he doesn't have hepatitis at all, but something else? You would first figure it out…”



Kors suddenly abruptly drew his sword from its scabbard, forcing Nikto and the doctor to recoil from him in different directions, but he simply thrust the hilt into the doctor’s hands:



“Hold and make me an eight, show me a banal eight, well? Why don't you do it?”



The doctor turned pale:



“But… but. I'm not a warrior!”



“I'm not a doctor, damn it!” Shouted Kors. “And I don't have to know all the forms of your fucking hepatitis! You are too proud of your knowledge and medical subtleties here! You look at us with superiority! You see, he knows all forms of hepatitis, but we don’t! Let me now make you fight my son and see how you know all the intricacies of swordsmanship! What, you don’t know anything? So why the hell am I supposed to know your job?”



Cartmer was dumbfounded, and he carefully held out his sword to Kors.



“Take it, please. I am sorry if I was wrong.”



Kors made an arrogant and displeased face and took the sword from the doctor:



“That's it.”



He looked around the room. In Cartmer’s large and bright cabinet, in tall glass cases, there were many hermetically sealed containers, in which all kinds of human organs, embryos and babies with anomalies and other wonders were kept.



Kors looked sideways at the can from which, it seemed, a human eyeball was also staring at him:



“What the shit?”



“This is a unique collection of human organs, healthy and damaged by diseases. I have been collecting it for many years,” the doctor answered, not without pride.



Kors looked skeptically at the life-size skeleton in the corner.



“Oh well…”



His attention was drawn to medical devices located near a tall window, half-sealed with thin white paper.



“Is it a weighing machine?”



“Yes.”



Kors nodded at Nik.



“Weigh him.”



“Weigh?”



“Vitor…”



“Shut up, Nik! I want to know how much he weighs. I think he is underweight, I want to know how much to take action. It is strange that this is not obvious to you and is surprising. I have already begun to doubt your professionalism.”



“Well, well. But then he needs to take off his clothes.”



“No, this is impossible. He won’t undress in front of you.”



“Not in front of me, I don’t need it, but in order for the scales to show the correct body weight.”



“Go weigh him! I will subtract the weight of the clothes, I understand this.”



The doctor just shook his head.



“Then let him at least unfasten his weapon.”



“Okay. Nik, take off your belt and unfasten your swords.”



Nikto obediently took off his weapons and stood on the scales. The doctor aligned the weights on the bar in front of him.



“Well, what is there?” Kors asked impatiently.



Cartmer gave him a number:



“Normal weight. For his height, this is a perfectly acceptable body weight.”



“But he’s thin!”



“He is thin, but not below the norm for his height.”



“You just don't understand anything!”



“Well, maybe a little below the norm, but not critical,” the doctor shrugged his shoulders. “Moreover, he is still young, and he is a warrior. You came from Crimson Rock, right?”



“Yes.”



“Where, as far as I know, you spent a long time in a tough siege. Hiking, battles. Such a life is not conducive to gaining body weight.”



“Are you deliberately misinforming me?”



“No.”



“He's got exhaustion!”



“I would not say that.”



“Everything is clear, you don’t understand anything.”



The doctor just shook his head, but didn't mind. He returned to the table and wrote down Nikto’s weight and height on a piece of paper. Nik, too, silently began to re-fasten his weapons.



Kors took off his boots, because they had a small heel, and stood up to the vertical ruler, put a bar on his head. Then he walked away, examining the figure. Seeing that he was literally a centimeter short of up to one hundred and ninety, he frowned in displeasure and annoyance:



“Heck!” He hit the bar. “It’s a wrong device!”



“Do you speak red?” Cartmer asked Nikto.



“Yes,” he nodded.



The doctor was looking at him very closely, and Nik grabbed the gloved hand onto his belt at his waist.



“Do you take stimulants like most black warriors?"”



“Yes.”



“Narcotic substances?”



“Y… Yes…”



“If you want me to treat you and find really effective and correct medicines, you must allow me to take a blood test from your vein.”



Nik recoiled involuntarily and took a step back towards the door.



“You are afraid?”



“No.”



“Don't you understand why this is needed?”



“I don't know, I think I understand.”



“Having studied the composition of your blood, I will understand what drugs you need.”



“I take prohibited d… drugs,” said Nikto.



And now Cartmer staggered back, but he quickly pulled himself together.



“Then the analysis is all the more necessary!”



Kors was looking at the alcoholized freaks with curiosity, carried away when he turned around and saw that Nik was sitting at the doctor’s table. The sleeve of his jacket was pulled up, the bracelet was unlaced, and the doctor bent over his hand, syringe in hand.



“Hey!” He shouted like a madman. “What are you doing?! You motherfucker! Nik!”



Nikto and Cartmer shied away from each other.



“I need to take his blood for analysis,” the doctor justified a little frightened, obviously not expecting such a reaction from Kors.



“Did you ask me for permission? Was I asked?”



“But… your son seems… quite capable of taking responsibility for himself.”



“I forbid touching him and taking his blood! This is unacceptable and out of the question! Have you even gone crazy deciding to do this manipulation with him?!”



“Manipulation? I just wanted to take a sample of his blood to find a treatment.”



“And from you, Nik, I can’t turn away even for a minute!” Kors shouted angrily at him in black. “They are touching you again!”



“Did I take his cock in mouth?” Nik snapped.



“Well… Nik,” Kors stretched his hands forward, towards him, slightly spreading his fingers, “be quiet… just be silent.”



“But how am I going to get him medicine?” The doctor intervened. “You yourself came to me for help!”



“Just give me the best medicines of the Upper!”



“But this is absurd!”



“What? Are you evading a direct order?”



“If you really want to help your son, understand the gravity of the situation. This is an extraordinary case! He will die! Then don’t bring him to me dying in your arms!”



“Give me the best medicines of the Upper!”



“Why do you interfere if you don’t understand anything in medicine?”



“Are you implying that I am an ignorant black and don’t understand anything?”



“Well, what is the best medicine to give you? If you don't know yourself? The best from what? From hepatitis? If you don't know what form he has? Give you the best sedatives? Or from indigestion?”



Kors froze for a second, trying to grasp the meaning, because the doctor spoke quickly in red, and Kors didn’t know languages perfectly and didn’t know the red language to such an extent that he could easily navigate in medical terms. He saw that Cartmer had fallen silent and was looking at him with a condescending grin.



“Are you kidding?” Said Kors, and in his voice skipped the steel notes that Nik knew very well, he tensed. But not the doctor, because he was not used to being afraid, and he didn’t catch the initial stage of aggression, since he had not encountered anything like this in his life.



“Although, against indigestion there are also different “best medicines”, depending on what you have, diarrhea or constipation…”



And Kors hit him.



“Vitor!” Nik shouted.



Kors turned to him.



“Get out!” He pushed Nik to the exit from the cabinet. “You really better wait outside the door now!”



And Kors pushed Nik out.



And then he turned to stunned Cartmer and reached out to his belt, on which an iron bar hung.



From the doctor's cabinet there was a deafening rumble and the sound of breaking glass, Nik closed his eyes as if he were in pain, and covered his ears with his palms.



Very pleased Kors, slightly flushed and with a blush on his cheeks, left Cartmer’s office and shoved several flat cardboard boxes to Nik, who was waiting for him:



“Here! Here you go!”



“What is it?”



“Medicines of the Upper from his safe. He wanted to hide them from us! You were right, he doesn't give us anything.”



“I… I'm not sure…”



“I started to play for time here. I just had to demand right away, I myself, with my intelligence and tact, adjusted it here. I am always too loyal to people! And these nonentities understand only power!”



“Vitor…”



“Shut up! You should be punished for your stupid behavior,” and Vitor Kors tightly squeezed his hair on the back of his head, forcing him to throw his face up, raised his hand over him, clenched into a fist. Nikto closed his eyes, but didn’t make a single attempt to somehow evade and free himself from Kors, to make him stop pulling his hair, to dodge his raised fist. Expecting a blow, he got a little tense.



Kors smiled with satisfaction and dropped his hand, which was raised above Nik’s face:



“But I love you too much and make allowances for your unreasonableness, although this is wrong,” he bent over him, still holding on to his hair:



“Next time, if you are foolish, I will punish you.”



“But…”



“Be silent! And don’t contradict me! Yes, we just had to come and destroy everything for this Cartmer. And pick up the drugs without all this talk and lyrics.”



“Lyrics?”



“And I spoke to him so politely. Well, now he understands who he is dealing with, and that we are not ignorant savages who are easily deceived! I can't be fooled!”



Kors impetuously embraced Nikto:



“I won't give you offense! Don't worry, my dear, what's that face? I've already forgiven you. Everything is good! It's already over, take it easy. We have the medicines,” he smiled triumphantly. “He would never have given them to us, he would have fooled us, hiding behind pseudoscience. And now we have them!”



And Nikto smiled at him forcibly.



“Yes, I have taught him a lesson. He will remember it forever that he shouldn't behave like that with blacks. I know those clever people who, using their position, try to mislead others. This number will not work with me! Now we will return to our place, I will give you an injection, and you will feel better.”



“I'm fine now.”



“And you will feel even better!”



“What if these drugs are really against constipation?”



Kors looked at him and laughed.



“Nik, my love, are you kidding me? A sense of humor is not your greatest strength. Everything will be fine, trust me,” he gently hugged Nik, stroking his head and kissed the cheek that was not covered by hair with his renewed letter on it. He kissed his letter, as he did constantly.



“What do you want for dinner? I will order to cook for you.”



“I don’t know.”



“These sea creatures from the Upper World, although they look disgusting, taste very good.”



“Who smell like a dirty slut?”



“What?! A-ha-ha, Nik, I have no idea what an unwashed slut smells like.”



“Well… like a fish…”



“Well, now, it seems, I will not be able to touch this dish.”



“Sorry.”



“Okay, the black and green grape-like berries are quite tasty.”



“Which are salty?”



“Yes.”



“Oh no.”



“Why? Are they like a dirty whore too?”



“Well, they are wet and salty… but I'm not because of this…”



“Nik! Now I can't eat them either,” Kors laughed, “is there something that does not taste and smell like a whore?”



And Nik laughed too.



“We’ll be right back, and I’ll give the order for the slave to start setting the table. And to properly heat that marble room with hot steam.”



And Kors cheerfully walked through the arches and enfilades, pacing the palace as if it belonged to him, and Nik, limping slightly, silently followed him.



Arel was lying on the bed, and Kors shook his head.



“Arel, how can you be so lazy? You don't do anything at all, you don't do anything. You are not helping us in any way!”



Arel looked at him with haughty indifference and yawned.



“An absolutely useless creature. Cover your mouth with your hand when you yawn. Senseless creature, what should I order to eat? Maybe you should get an injection too, you must be contagious. What am I talking about? And I probably am contagious too. I, too, already have an infection from you. But why didn't I take my doctor with me!”



“Because he’s not really yours, but the doctor of blacks?” Said Nik carefully.



“Well, our doctor of blacks, he doesn’t pretend to be so clever as this red.”



“Because he stayed with seriously wounded Varah.”



“Yes, I let the guts out of him,” Kors smiled. “For you, my love!”



“You seriously injured him, the infection began.”



“Let him die in a puddle of his own shit, there was no need to leave the doctor with him.”



“Zagpeace thought differently.”



“Why are you talking to me now about Zagpeace? I can’t hear about him, and I’m not cold yet, Nik, I’ll be carried away now.”



Nik thought it best to remain silent.



“Arel, don't start biting your nails! Now take your hand off your face!”



Kors looked with regret at Arel’s beautiful aristocratic hand with long thin fingers, “decorated” with black “rings” of unclean ones.



“How you ruined his hand!”



Nik didn’t answer and quickly touched his nose with his hand. Kors caught his hand, pulling it towards him, removing his glove and kissing.



“Stop doing that. Stop it, my naughty Demon bad student!”



“Who?! This is something new, before I was dirty and shaggy for you.”



“Yes. But thanks to my efforts, you began to wash more often, and I take care of your hair. Now we need to start teaching you.”



“Oh…”



Kors sat Nik next to him on the edge of the bed, and, slightly removing his brush from him, began to examine the black fingers:



“How can you paint black the skin under the nails?”



“Well, these are not really nails…”



“Yes, tell me how you can create this horror with yourself.”



“Maybe I should not?”



“Tell me!”



“Well, nails… human nails are ripped out…”



“Well! Further…”



“Black paint is introduced into the wound, then the unclean claws take root.”



“Did you do this with all your fingers at once or one at a time?”



Nik didn’t answer, Kors kissed his hand:



“Do you like what I give you, my Demon Son, do you like it?” He whispered.



“Yeah…”



“This Cartmer, he was looking at you, he thought: “how beautiful”, did you hear it?”



“No. Vitor, don't make it up.”



“Divine beauty of the Upper”, you heard, you are just cunning now. You heard everything.”



“I have heard this many times, as well as exactly the opposite.”



“Arel, come to me, useless stupid creature, ah-ah, why are you so, Arel, so… ah-ah!”



They undressed, and Nik put Kors on his back, he agreed to accept and all opened to meet him:



“Fuck me the way I fuck you,” he whispered, “do to me as I do to you.”



Nikto pulled it out almost to the end and pushed it back sharply, leaning strongly forward. Kors couldn’t help but wheeze under him.



“So?” Nik asked.



“Yes. Yes. More… don't pity me…”



Nik made a few more of the same hard thrusts all the way and hit Kors in the ribs, he twitched under him:



“Ah, damn…”



Nikto again began to fuck him, and at some point, when Kors had already relaxed a little and did not expect this at all, he suddenly quite tangibly knocked him in the balls and standing cock.



“Oh!”



Kors tried to break free, and Nikto slapped him in the face, on the cheek, slapping him tangibly in the face.



“Not! Nik! I don’t do that! Stop doing that!” Shouted Kors.



And Nikto in his thoughts said: “dirty little rubbish, you must be properly punished!”



“What?” And Kors laughed. He lay under his Nik, shuddering with laughter, shading his eyes with his bent elbow, then slightly removed it, looking at Nik from under his arm, and Nik, unable to resist, began to laugh too.



He stopped, without removing the cock from Kors, but not continuing:



“Vitor, stop laughing, I can't stand that!”



“Do I really think so when I'm fucking you?”



“Yes.”



They laughed again.



“Well, no, I just can't come,” said Nik, “you make me laugh.”



“It's strange that you don’t laugh under me when you hear that,” Kors smiled.



“Arel, shut him up at last,” said Nik, and Arel, who had been lying next to him all this time and watching what they were doing, immediately leaned on Kors, sitting down on his face.



“Arel… no, no… um…”



They continued, no longer being distracted, and Nik and Arel, without much imagination, bluntly pounded Kors from different sides, periodically switching places. Kors gave himself up to his young lovers and allowed everything and did for them what they wanted, forgetting about dinner and about a room with marble benches and warm steam. Forgetting everything.



23



Friendly holiday



Karina didn’t understand how to dress and what to wear. The slaves brought a mountain of clothes: underwear, a bunch of fluffy petticoats, corsets, dresses and embroidered capes. But she didn’t want to wear a cape at the ball, especially since this holiday was more for her own people. But at the same time, Karina understood that reds supporting the policy of Lis would still be present there, his father, Igmer, would be there, and she didn’t want to somehow compromise her husband, disgrace him with her inappropriate appearance. And the traditions of the reds towards women were too strict, and Karina was depressed. How should she dress so as not to embarrass herself? The cape, of course, was the simplest and most correct solution, but Karina couldn’t stand it, although now she clearly understood that in this city she would have to wear it, if only just so that they would not stare at her like a black sheep. She turned to the three slaves. Faceless, immovable sacks, they stood at the entrance, waiting for the order of the mistress.



“Can any of you speak?” Asked Karina. “Or have all your tongues cut off?”



“I can, lady,” said one of the slaves.



“And they?”



“They can’t. I am in charge here, they obey me.”



“Good. What is your name?”



“Uh-uh … a slave, lady.”



“Just a slave? Don't you have a name?”



“No.”



“But this is very inconvenient. Let's call you something. What name do you like?”



“Do you want me to choose a name for myself, lady?”



“Yes.”



The girl froze for a second:



“I don’t know…”



“Maybe let's call you Diamond?” Said Karina. “After all, you are from the Ore town, where diamonds are mined.”



The slave hesitated:



“And then maybe better Gold, if possible, lady?”



Karina laughed:



“Of course! So, you will be my slave, and your name will be Gold.”



“Thank you, lady.”



“You know the customers of the reds better, tell me what to wear for the holiday so as to look dignified. My husband’s father will be there, he is very strict.”



The slave immediately handed Karina a very beautiful cape embroidered with silk and precious stones.



“Oh, no, not that! Is it possible to wear something other than a cape?”



“Then the mask, lady.”



“Excellent,” Karina muttered, “one is not better than the other. Okay, what mask?”



“I'll bring it in now, lady.”



The girls quickly ran out and very soon returned with a whole box of all kinds of masks. Karina chose one of them, the mask was completely made of gold, but light and delicate, like thin lace, and it covered only the upper part of her face, leaving her lips and chin open.



“This?”



The slave nodded.



“Yes, lady.”



“Is it decent?”



“If your husband doesn’t mind, then it is possible to wear it for a festive evening. But not on the street.”



Karina looked at the slave:



“Take off the cape.”



She seemed taken aback:



“But I can't do that.



“I order, take it off. If the lady ordered it, then you can.”



The girl lifted the top of her cape over to reveal her face. She turned out to be red-haired and freckled and painfully reminded Karina of her former Lis. How cute he was! Nikto ennobled his appearance, but at the same time deprived Lis of his personality. But his bright fiery hair suited him so well! But Karina understood that if it was possible to return everything, Lis would never agree to this.



“Oh, you really are golden!”



The slave looked at Karina, and her face was cheerful, her amber eyes sparkled with fervor, it seemed that she didn’t suffer from her inferior position. Although Karina could imagine with horror what it would be like to be in her place. Being a slave to the Reds is even worse than being a slave to the unclean.



“Send these girls away, stay with me only you. And get me a bath.”



“Okay, lady.”



“And get me a bath.”



Karina undressed, and Gold involuntarily stared at her decorated body with round eyes. Due to the fact that the slave woman spent her whole life closed from head to toe, she didn’t know how to control her expression at all, and all emotions were reflected on her face, like she was a child.



“Why are you looking as if you feel sorry for me?” Karina smiled.



“You are so thin, lady, well, that’s nothing terrible, rest, gain weight. And then I'll bring the pads, we'll insert them in the front and back.”



“I can do without all this heap of rags and an artificial ass. No, I don’t need it!”



“And the breast?”



Karina looked at her chest:



“Yes, you can get a little in the breast,” she agreed.



And the slave looked at her with undisguised pity and sympathy.



Karina washed and put on her underwear, the slave tightened her corset so tightly that Karina could hardly breathe. At the same time, when she convulsively inhaled air, the corset creaked.



“No! No! I'll suffocate, tighten it looser!”



“But then your waist will be completely gone, lady.”



“Send it to hell!”



“Then let's make the skirt more magnificent?”



Gold smiled, as if laughing at her new and so wrong mistress.



“Why are you laughing? Drink some wine!”



The slave took the glass extended to her with two hands and obediently drank it to the bottom, her cheeks immediately turned red. She handed Karina a few crisp petticoats.



“Eh, I have already put on a bunch of them!”



“Then let's put on hoops under the skirt.”



“Are you kidding? I won't get through the door through them!”



“Hee-hee…”



Karina looked in the mirror, she quite liked herself this way. The dark red dress made of precious brocade was beautiful and perfectly emphasized, as Karina believed, her ideal figure.



The maid watched her with interest and chuckled softly.



“Why are you giggling?”



“Sorry, lady.”



“Have you ever seen black women?”



“I have seen them. But only slaves.”



“I was a slave too,” said Karina, “but then my master fell in love with me, set me free and married me.”



Gold widened her eyes:



“Is it possible?” Her surprise was so strong that she even forgot to add “lady.”



Karina brought her wrist to a brightly burning candle, a thin monogram lit up on it with fiery paths.



“See? I was marked with fire. Long ago.”



Gold was dumbfounded and silent, and now Karina laughed. Finally, the red girl came to her senses, and, apparently, the wine she had drunk also played a role, because she suddenly said:



“I also love my master.”



“Whom?” Karina was surprised. “Are you talking about Kudmer?”



The maid nodded.



“Yes. About sir Kudmer.”



“But he's fat… fat and ugly! A-ha-ha!”



Gold was embarrassed and blushed even more:



“He was kind. Tell me, was he killed?”



“No,” Karina answered, “as far as I know, he was sent to prison.”



The slave sighed with relief and handed Karina the tightly packed bags:



“Here, madam, this is for the breast.”



“I inserted it already!”



“Sorry, lady, but it seems that this is not enough.”



“And if they fall out? No. I want to relax and have fun, not watch my boobs.”



“Hee-hee…”



The slave beautifully styled Karina’s hair, making a high hairstyle. Karina put on an openwork mask on her face:



“Hmm…”



The slave smiled:



“Yes, very beautiful, lady.”



She covered Karina’s head with a lush, dark pink translucent fabric that went down almost to the floor in the back, and in the front to the middle of the chest, and put on a high precious tiara on top.



Karina froze:



“Also a rag!”



“It's a veil, lady.”



“What for?!”



“But you must be covered, lady.”



“I have put on a mask!”



“The mask is not closed enough, and the veil is always required. It’s translucent. It suits you very much, lady.”



Karina lifted the veil from her face up, but then it covered a beautiful high tiara.



“Damn,” thought Karina, “okay, I'll look around there and then take off this veil to hell.”



“When I become queen,” she said so self-confidently, as if this issue had already been decided for a long time, “I will abolish these idiotic laws that humiliate women. I will cancel all these rules. No one will wear a cape, a mask, or a veil, neither free women nor slaves. Yes!”



Gold looked at her in amazement, but tactfully remained silent.



“And they will stop cutting and stitching women, in general, somehow changing them, cutting off their tongues, mutilating them. Whoever dares to do this will be immediately sentenced to death, but first, on the square in front of everyone, he will also be cut off, let him suffer! Why are you looking like that? Don't you believe that I will do it? My husband also thinks he respects women! And he will bring another order!”



Lis went to them to find out if Karina was ready. Seeing him, the slave immediately hastily covered her face with a cape, and she and Karina knelt down and bowed their heads in front of the man.



Lis gently raised Karina, hugging:



“You're in a dress! What a beauty you are!”



“Do you like? Can I go to the ball like that?”



“Yes. You are the most beautiful girl in this world!” Lis said, lifting her veil, and gently kissing, “my wife is the most beautiful!”



Tables were laid in the throne room of the Rainbow Palace. Many blacks and unclean ones have never seen such dishes, fruits and sweets.



In a luxurious dress, a golden lace mask, covered with a translucent veil and all hung with jewels, Karina sat next to Lis-Sigmer at the head of the table and reveled in happiness. She was happy. She was having fun. She already felt like a queen and imposingly held in her hand a crystal glass filled with champagne. Lis’ father was sitting next to him, on his right hand. Igmer didn’t say anything to Karina, didn’t utter a word, but she didn’t notice any displeasure on his face when he saw her. He remained impassive, so she was dressed correctly and quite decently. Karina smiled condescendingly to those guests who approached them, congratulated them on their victory and wished all kinds of benefits. She nodded arrogantly in response and modestly kept silent. She didn’t even go up to Lila, who was sitting at the table a little further, next to Tol. Lila also covered her face with a beautiful mask of gold chains and coins hanging down with a fringe, leaving only her eyes open. Lila was born in the east and had a better understanding of the local rules for women.



Almost all black mercenaries were here and many of the soldiers of Tol, Marmer and other red ones. There were Shrad, Seamus and Anya, and now she, unlike Karina and Lila, didn’t cover her face in any way and remained dressed like a warrior, in her leather pants and a jacket, and she still cut her hair down to her shoulders.



At the end of the hall, unclean people settled down, and Karina saw Nija, he looked bad, thin, all haggard, nothing remained of former beautiful and bright Nija, and everyone had long forgotten his sincere and infectious smile, because Nija no longer smiled… Karina noticed how he raised his pale face and looked in her direction, she hastily turned away, pretending to talk to one of the guests.



Zaf was sitting at the table hugging the maid of immense size, whom he found in some unknown place. The maid was in complete shock and looked at the unclean with round eyes. She neither ate nor drank, although the tables were bursting with all kinds of food. But the poor thing, probably for the first time in her life, lost her appetite, and she was not at all up to food, she literally almost fainted from horror.



Zaf, not paying any attention to her frightened look, ate and drank like the last time, not forgetting to squeeze the unfortunate woman along the way, he pinched her now by the thick side, now by the chubby cheek, and whinnied. The rest of the unclean ones also behaved quite noisy and uninhibited, since their table was located almost at the exit.



Karina approached Vitor Kors, who was sitting between Nik and Arel, she smiled. By the middle of the evening, Karina took off her veil, leaving a precious tiara on her head, and even the mask on her face could not hide what kind of elated and joyful mood she was in:



“Father, dance with me,” Karina asked, “I am so grateful to you for everything! You are the best father in the world! Give me one dance.”



Kors smiled at her.



“Better dance with your husband.”



“He's being distracted all the time! Everyone approaches him, congratulates him, starts to say something, to ask. Some endless questions,” answered Karina displeased.



“There’s nothing to be done,” Kors said didactically. “Every victory has a downside, and that’s the price of power. Endless flatterers and sycophants looking for their own benefit. And the opportunity to cling to the strong and…”



“To be honest,” Karina interrupted him, “he also doesn’t dance very well.”



“Okay,” said Kors, smiling a little as he got up from his seat. They went to the middle of the hall, where several couples were already dancing.



Nikto and Arel watched as luxurious Vitor Kors and Karina started dancing, how beautiful they were dancing.



“And now I want to dance with Nik,” Karina said when they finally returned.



“Karina, I can't, I'm sorry,” Nikto answered, “I dance very badly and I will stumble.”



“But you move beautifully when you fight,” she said.



“Yes… but dancing… is a little different. And I learned to fight for a long time, but I didn’t learn to dance. I can dance some very simple peasant dance: I stomped, circled, circled the girl, clapped my hands,” Nik smiled, “but you dance very complex dances.”



“It was a waltz,” said Kors.



“Yes, here, you need to quickly move around the room in a circle, I will stumble, and a couple next to us will fly into us, it will be very embarrassing. Sorry, I don't refuse you on purpose.”



“Why would he dance?” Kors intervened again, “it's all nonsense.”



“But you just danced with me!”



“Just because I cannot refuse you anything! I love you very much, Karina, and you know that very well.”



“I love you too!” she looked up at Arel:



“Well, then Prince Arel, you will not slip away, I remember very well how well you dance.”



“Yes, I was not going to refuse you, Karina,” Arel said.



And they went off to dance.



The servant carefully placed a mint green envelope on the table in front of Kors:



“This is for you, sir,” he bowed politely.



“What is it?” Kors was surprised.



“I don’t know, sir, they just asked me to tell you.”



“Who?”



“This letter was given to me by a lady’s slave, sir.”



“Father! It seems that some red lady wants to meet you,” Karina laughed.



“What?” Kors waved his hand towards the servant. “Good. You are free, you can go.”



He opened the envelope, inside there was a note.



“I am writing to you first, and that already says it all. What else can I add, knowing that now you have the right to punish me with contempt, but…” and then everything in the same spirit.



Kors smiled, amused by this situation, but at the same time flattered that only he was sent a love note:



“So they are not as hammered as they might seem? She won't be executed for this?” He turned to Karina.



“But you won't tell anyone and you won't compromise her?”



“No, of course, but I will not approach her either.”



“And you won't ask her to dance?”



“No,”



“But why?”



“I’m not interested in faceless circumcised women, and to be honest, they are all too fat here.”



Karina laughed again:



“This is the daughter of the head of the Green House, she may well not be circumcised, not all red men adhere to these rules, there are those who are quite loyal and give their women freedom, don’t mutilate them for the sake of traditions. If she dared to write you a note, it means that she is quite free in her manifestations, it simply would not have come into the head of an obedient circumcised woman.”



Kors looked towards the part of the room where the family members, whose color was green, were sitting at the tables:



“She's wearing a veil, and I can't see her face, maybe she's ugly.”



“Invite her to dance and see.”



“Let her write notes to Arel, he is a handsome prince, and I am already old for this. I'm not interested in flirting.”



“Dad, don’t sell yourself short, well, what the talks of being old?! If she is so disposed to you, I think that business may not be limited to flirting.”



“So that her relatives would force me to marry her later? Well, no,” Kors laughed.



He brought the note to the candle, burning it:



“Let her look for someone else.”



But in his heart he was very pleased that this girl singled out him, and not young and beautiful Arel sitting next to him.



24



Blood ties



And the holiday went on.



Vitor Kors, Nikto and Arel left the main banquet hall for a while and went to the room that the reds called the hookah lounge, and for the blacks the hookah was a curiosity.



Vitor Kors was sitting on a soft sofa, buried in brocade pillows. In his life, he had already tried this fun of the reds, and he liked it. Therefore, he enjoyed the moment and, at the same time, with his arm bent at the elbow, he relaxed hugged his Nik, who sat next to him, around the neck. Kors pressed his head to his chest, kissing the bright top of his head every minute. Nikto didn’t resist at all and allowed Kors to hug him and press him to himself as he wanted. With his free hand, Kors stroked his bangs. Nikto’s ponytail had long been disheveled, but Kors didn’t care now. He didn’t brush his hair anymore, he didn’t alter his tail, he just stroked and fiddled gently through his hair, ran over the bangs that obscured Nik’s face and his eyes, without removing it or opening his face, stroking him like a beloved pet – a cat or a dog.



Only sometimes, between puffs, he nevertheless slightly shifted his white hair aside, leaning towards the face of Nikto and kissing him gently on the forehead or eyes:



“I love you, I love you, let me kiss you on your such beautiful long eyelashes…”



Lis’ father entered the hookah lounge, he winced, trying not to inhale the smoke, Igmer clearly intended to disturb their bliss, and Kors looked a little questioningly and arrogantly at him, not caring at all about his reputation and what Igmer might think, did not change his posture and didn’t let Nikto go.



“Vitor Kors, we need to talk,” said Igmer. But Kors only smiled smugly, continuing to hug his Nik, he didn’t make a single movement towards Igmer. He stood in front of him, and Kors continued to sit imposingly lounging on the pillows.



Igmer hesitated, and seeing that Kors was not going to get up and somehow show his respect, he continued:



“Can we go out and talk?”



“About what? I have no secrets from my Nik and Prince Arel. Tell me now, what do you need?” Kors took a deep drag and blew fragrant smoke from his mouth towards Igmer.



“Well, well…” It was noticeable that Igmer barely restrained himself, and Kors saw it. “Well… Kors… I noticed that you advise my son a lot, did you write a new set of rules and laws?”



“Yes,” answered Kors, “so what?”



“My son listens to your opinion…”



“Listens?” Kors chuckled. “He follows him. Because it is correct.”



“The code of laws that you wrote and which he began to follow is wrong.”



“WHAT?!”



“It is wrong,” Igmer repeated with pressure, and it was evident with what difficulty this conversation was given to him, “wrong. There are too many restrictions and unreasonably cruel punishments for the slightest offense. The endless curfew and access system paralyzed the city. Residents of Ore town are free townspeople, they are not used to this. You literally locked them home!”



“Yes? Well, let them get used to it!”



“Vitor Kors, I repeat, your rules are too strict and need to be revised.”



“You are not the head of this town, the head of the town is Li… Sigmer, and he agrees with my vision of the situation.”



Kors looked at Igmer with a grin, continuing to carelessly stroke the matted bangs of his Nik, who, pressed by his hand, couldn’t turn his head. And Kors tightly pressed his unscarred left half of his face to his chest, and Nik’s right eye, covered with bangs, could not see, and therefore Nik didn’t look at Igmer, without moving in Kors’ hands, and he himself leaned towards him, slightly removing his head from his chest, and, moving his bangs, kissed the slanting and almost blind eye, again pressing it to him. With a grin, he looked at Lis’ father:



“My laws are correct. And I'll put things in order here. Your son does as I say, because, unlike you, he understands that I am absolutely right. I helped him and I brought him here, not you! Don’t ask for indulgence for the reds, it will not be. The town has a new law. Where were you before? Your son has accomplished everything without you. He came to Ore town without you! You initially accepted him only when you saw him in the battle of Komra, he fought bravely and you liked him. And now you accepted him when he won. Where were you, Igmer, before that? You know, just like you, I had a woman of a different race, but, unlike you, I fell in love with her, married her, and my children are legitimate! And you just fucked this little black girl and threw her away with the baby! Is not it? What can you tell me about cruelty?!”





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