Young Vicont

-Where are you sire?

"Don't worry, Gregory, I'm not ten years old and I can ride."

A gray-haired man in his fifties, with glimpses of black tarry notes in his hair and beard, galloped up to a young man of about twenty.

-I taught you since childhood and taking care of you is my duty.

"You're too stressful today, look at the sky a great day, huh?" The provocative fair-haired guy cheerfully caught up with two on his red horse. He was dressed a little better than the young man with whom Gregory spoke.

A blue violet flower flaunted on his leather armor, behind his shoulders was a bow and a sword in a scabbard on the left side fastened by a belt to his hips. There was no disrespect in his words, he was just so cheerful in himself and did not take anything seriously enough.

'' You, as always, Francis ... '' - said the curly-haired guy who was jumping behind.

"Yeah, he didn't grow at all," -added another strong-looking man.

"When did you bother anything the last time?"- He asked and smiled with his wide smile, which looks like a grin of a bearded wolf.

Yeah, Dex, except when he was running away from you after you saw me kissing your sister, the blond said and prepared to gallop his horse.

- Oh you ....

"Well, that's enough"- said the Young man whom the old man caught up with, they politely bowed and obediently shut up.

- You are forever like children ...

All the same, they hunted great, though not the same as before, game is getting smaller.

Many sire poachers - answered the dark-haired hunter with a triangular beard and long hair gathered in a bun.

He was dressed in dense skin of dark brown color on which there were practically no seams and metal inserts skillfully hidden in the sternal slots. His name was Adet and he was the best ranger in the service of Viscount.

Peasants cannot get a crop enough to pay you sire and collect tribute to the king, given that the amount has tripled over the past few years.

They can't be blamed for this, well, let's go back, I think there's enough pairs of pheasants and hoobs for a couple of days ...

Said a black-haired guy with an embroidered black archer in the hood on his chest, who had just fired and was still holding a bow, and his blue arrow flew in the direction of the starry sky, embroidered with the same black and blue threads ... He looked at his comrades and smiled "I'm glad you are friends with me!"

After a moment, they shouted - Long live Viscount Olan! ..

Long live El! ..

******************

It was this inquisitive couple of centenarians from Sadorus who drew attention to this rejoicing group that was not clear what achievement.

-I wonder what's going on there?

-Mm ... I don't know, but I see they are armed so that I think if we want to make contact, we need to prepare and observe them ... In which case we can retreat and regroup. Fighting without a plan is not wise.

Although Jill was confident in his abilities, he did not want to risk his life and the life of his wife.

-First, you need to calculate everything and minimize the risk, or eliminate it altogether.

But, unfortunately, not everything always goes as we plan ...

- Look, there is a glare from the sun - it looks like a reflection from the armor.

- It was Adet, who immediately reached for a bow with his sinewy hand.

Wait, "El said," let's not rush. " Let's go and see, the place is open, I don't think there is an ambush, but just in case we'll split up.

It was Sir Elistart Olan, or as his friends and relatives called him - El.

A young viscount at the age of 20, having lost his father, he was brought up by his uncle Brom and his mother, but Gregory was his teacher of fencing and everything that related to military affairs and what the nobleman should have known. Gregory was a retired military man and, thanks to his many achievements, was knighted. He served in the Olans family mansion for over 15 years. He saw a young viscount growing up, strong and intelligent, noble and driven by the idea of ​​equality, so inherent in all those who are deprived of power ...

Al tightened his grip on his sword ... "I don't think that Derk would have the audacity to send a detachment of his people to intimidate the peasants at my borders, even though his uncle is away ... although times are getting darker.

His appetite for power does not stop growing. Obviously, you will need to do something soon, but for now you need to think about the current state of things ... So who could it be? The silhouettes are not big, like two, they do not look like barbarians, there are no axes and in general weapons I do not see ... It's strange that they just stand and wait? ... Hmm ... well then, is it for the better if there is no aggressive action it will be possible to resolve the issue peacefully ... "

Blood rushed to his chest while he was riding and thinking about all the possible options, but he did not expect to see such guests at all in his ancestral land.

-Who you are? Lay down your arms - this is the land of the Olans - at the same time with a surprise and firmness from afar shouted El. After an instant, another 5 riders were nearby, two of them holding bowed bows, the rest looked on them sternly.