The Mist and the Lightning. Part 16. Ви Корс

There was no need to take what didn’t belong to you! You are not his master, and therefore he didn’t obey you and rebelled.”

      “Wow, rebelled! Eh, he didn’t understand a single command! You didn't seem to work with him at all! Arel, I wonder how you didn’t break your neck and die in battle, your horse was wild! You should be grateful to me and say “thank you” that I kept him and raised him as it should be, and now he perfectly fulfills the commands.”

      “Nik, he ruined my horse,” repeated Arel very upset, again throwing an angry glance at Kors:

      “Did you put on double-bit mouthpiece for him? What have you done?!”

      “I just controlled him,” Kors was also already upset by this conversation and the prince’s claims.

      “Okay, Arel, what do you want from me? Should I pay you compensation? Or if he doesn't suit you anymore, bring him back. Should I pay for him? I'll buy him from you, okay?”

      “Aha, here I am! No really!”

      “Here, take it,” Kors took out several large gold coins from his wallet, handed them to Arel, “this is for my help in training!”

      But Arel didn’t take the coins, turning away:

      “Just don’t even dare to approach him anymore!”

      “Your Beauty, beauty prince?”

      “Yes!”

      “And what is the name of this horse, which is now mine? Beauty too?” Kors could hardly hold back his laughter, and Nikto, looking at them, smiled with his now black mouth.

      “You can call him what you want!” Arel was still annoyed.

      “Okay, Beauty can only belong to, as far as I understand. Is this horse a mestizo?”

      “Yes, he’s half unclean,” Nikto confirmed.

      “And he's quite obedient,” Arel said calmly. “It will be easy for you with him, Kors.”

      “Thank you, Prince Arel.”

      The army of the unclean was already on the approaches to Crimson Rock when the wind blew from the Fort, pouring them into an unbearable fetid stench of rotting flesh. Lis, as usual, didn’t care about the burial of those killed in battle, saving wood and coal for forges and not burning corpses. He ordered to remove everything of value from the dead, take away armor and weapons and simply throw the bodies into the moat behind the walls, sprinkling them with earth a little.

      Unclean Marbas sniffed and smiled, as it seemed to Kors, with a double row of sharp teeth:

      “Nice places,” he said.

      Having met their fellow tribesmen in the Fort, the unclean ones were very happy and arranged a holiday. A full-fledged feast didn’t work out, since food supplies were already scarce, but the unclean Desmod and Marbas brought enough booze and all kinds of substances to get stoned with, and that was the main thing. Throughout the night, to loud music, the unclean bawled songs, arranged friendly competitions and danced with the bear. They kept the entire Fort awake with their noise, endless drunken shouts and howls. But Lis didn’t interfere in this action, because the day before from a man sent to the east, Marmer, a carrier pigeon flew in with a report that everything was calm in Ore town. No preparations for war were visible, no walls were being fortified, and there was no movement of any allied forces. The city continued to live an idle peaceful life, and Kudmer took no action to defend himself. This news greatly encouraged Lis and calmed his nervous condition.

      6

      Worries

      Igmer was reading the report of the agent from Crimson Rock.

      The red counted how many soldiers were in Sigmer’s army, how many horses and weapons, noted the presence of a bear. He indicated that the black officers in command were Zagpeace Gezaria and Ram Murh, the unclean ones were commanded by a commander named White Lord, and the red ones by Marmer. On his own behalf, he added that iron discipline reigned and everyone carried out the direct commands of Sigmer, which he gives out personally, always in the morning and then often also during the day. He very rarely transmits orders through his adjutants. In the evening, Sigmer also personally checks the fulfillment of tasks and requires a detailed report, often in writing, even if it is some trifle. Everyone is accountable to him, both black and red and unclean. He often checks everything himself. He cares about everything. He is very strict. The slightest hitch or poorly done work is punished. The pillars for the guilty are always busy, despite the fact that everyone is already afraid of punishment and is trying their best. Warriors are whipped mercilessly, left in a punishment cell without food and water for the slightest offense. Often Sigmer personally takes part in the execution, and if he doesn't like something, he immediately hits it in the face, maybe right in the conversation. In addition, during the day he conducts training for the soldiers and teaches them how to handle the weapons of the reds. He himself and his Wild Cat, who doesn’t leave him even for a single step, perfectly shoot from muskets. The gunpowder is made to them by a black named Marcus, and he did quite well using the records of the reds. The fort was destroyed and rebuilt by them in a rough manner, only the main tower is intact. But they are clearly not going to stay in it. Sigmer collects the carts, there are few supplies, and feeding is becoming scarcer every day.