The lovable nature of Pittsu

Cal watched distractedly as the splashes of water played bright and warm in the setting sun, rising and falling again into the mirror-like surface.

For the first time in a while, he could observe something beautiful. The long succession of monotonous days spent in camp had blended into a dull blur for him under the heading of "forget as soon as possible."

Cal remembered the old captain and his death. He rubbed his temples and wanted to address the marshal, who also seemed immersed in his thoughts, but remembered he could not yet speak. He could only powerlessly stir up the memories. The marshal spoke first, breaking the oppressive silence.

"I must warn you that the Transfer technique has its advantages and disadvantages," he said, leaning forward. "You may be disoriented, confused by your own and the other man's memories."

Cal listened to him spellbound, staring now at the marshal, at his graceful hands, with which he gestured beautifully. Since he couldn't answer, he just nodded while the marshal spoke further.

"If you feel you're losing touch with reality, I advise you to think of the key people. People are the most important thing, you know, they'll hold you up like an anchor," the marshal held out his hand and took Cal's palm. Drawing circles on it, he thoughtfully studied the line of his heart.

Cal felt uncomfortable around Pittsu, but he didn't want to make any sudden moves and so he just tolerated his liberties.

"What the hell is he doing that for?" he thought, feeling the excitement of his touch. Cal's embarrassment didn't escape the man across the street. He arched an eyebrow slightly and then rose from his seat.

Slowly walking around Cal, he stood behind him and smoothly ran his fingers through his flowing hair. A chill ran down Cal's back.

"Your hair is so beautiful..." the marshal said, leaning toward his ear.

Cal couldn't take it anymore and jump to his feet. Pretending to be interested in the fountain, he walked toward the water and, without stopping, found himself on the other side, hiding from the intrusive attention.

His heart was pounding treacherously loud. Expecting the marshal to find him here he leaned into the water and washed his face to hide his condition.

When he rose, however, he did not see him near or at all within a mile - the marshal was gone. Cal leaned awkwardly against the edge of the stonework. After catching his breath, he wiped his sleeve and, calming down, went for a walk.

The sun had practically set, and the cool air cooled his hot skin pleasantly. Cal walked in the direction of the sunset, passing a garden and a small grove.

When he reached a large green field, he admired the beautiful horses. The magnificent animals grazed freely, periodically gathering in a group.

Ahead of them went the oldest and most experienced mare, who by tradition was considered the ideal leader of the herd. She knew well the area, all the dangers lurking around, and where the waterhole was.

The frisky stallions ran away from the herd, imagining themselves faster than the wind. The young mares and their children tried to stay close to the group, occasionally pinching their youngsters by the mane, showing their place in the hierarchy of the group. Cal didn't risk approaching the horses; instead, he walked along the field.

His attention was drawn to a group of stallions that had left the herd and were chasing each other. As soon as they reached the edge of the field, they jumped up and immediately ran the other way, and the grass ripped from the ground flew high from under their hooves. When they had had enough to run, they would fall on their sides and turn over on their backs.

Swinging and playing, they released the energy they had accumulated. Cal was involuntarily staring and suddenly asked himself how he knew that the old mare was the leader of the herd. He had never been interested in such things before, but he guessed at once that the gaps in his education were filled by the old captain's memory.

Realizing that it would soon be quite dark, he turned back. As he passed a grove, he heard birdsong and stopped again. The melodious sound caressed his ears, but no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer see the performer. A man with a lantern appeared at the edge of the grove; it was a servant in clean linen clothes. He escorted him to the palace and bowed and left.

As he walked up the steps, Cal was a little worried about what the marshal was up to. To avoid another embarrassment, he could have switched his attention to something else, but as fate would have it, he still couldn't speak. Hurrying to his room, Cal closed the door and searched for something to do.

The dim flicker of the candles allowed him to occupy himself by reading, for the marshal had forgotten a book in his room. Unexpectedly Cal discovered that the book was about an old war.

Turning the pages, he read passionately about feats and tactics, maneuvers and tricks, and then closed the book and threw it on the bed. A small piece of paper suddenly fell out of it. Cal leaned over and carefully picked it up with two fingers.

In his hands, he held a miniature picture of Liam. The sheet in his hands shook and almost fell. Staring at his favorite face, he came to be puzzled.

What feelings did the marshal have for Liam?

Still clutching the drawing in his hand, Cal left the room and went in search of Pittsu. He went through most of the galleries and halls, but he could not find the marshal anywhere.

Finally, on the third floor, he smelled the faint smell of solvent, as if repairs were going on somewhere. Stepping cautiously down the half"dark corridor, Cal approached a slightly ajar door, from behind which a soft light poured and the same smell could be heard.

As he peered inside, he saw the marshal sitting on a high stool in front of a partially finished portrait. Cal froze intending to spy on the artist's actions, but something gave him away, and the marshal looked around.

"Come in," he invited the man with a gesture, "I got my inspiration today from our meeting at sunset and here..." he turned his canvas, and Cal was surprised to see himself on it.

The portrait was unusually good and it was the second time anyone had ever painted it.

Marshall looked at his creation with pleasure, and from time to time he looked at the original to make corrections. Cal raised his hand and showed the marshal his find without any emotion.

Pittsu only smiled warmly.

"You can keep it if you model for me for a while this evening."

It was a bargain, and Cal made himself comfortable in the chair across from the marshal.

Not being able to talk had its perks: no need to think of topics to talk about or find answers to difficult questions. And though there was much Cal wanted to talk about, it all could have waited.

Instead, he looked at Liam's portrait and wondered how he was doing. He wanted to see him as soon as possible and make sure he was all right.

"The damn tag won't come out of my head," Cal was angry. "Why didn't Liam say anything about her? Or did he try and I let it slip past my ears? What do I even want from him?" That last question made Cal's thoughts flow in a different direction.

Meanwhile, the marshal lowered the hand holding the brush and stared at Cal. He suddenly wondered what attracted Liam to him.

Certainly, he was a handsome man, taller than the Head, about the same height as the marshal. His moderately broad shoulders flowed smoothly into strong hips, they were not massive, but rather graceful.

"It's not hard to imagine him moving them rhythmically…" The marshal closed his eyes in embarrassment, then opened them again to look at the man's long legs.

"Hmm, legs slender, not like a soldier used to marching and running. More like a dancer's legs" he caught himself again thinking of their gracefulness and scolded himself for his lack of imagination.

I'd paint him full-length, Pittsu chortled, but he'd have to make a better deal with him to do that. Returning to the portrait, the marshal concentrated on Cal's eyes. Trying to convey their cold gleam, he forgot about everything in the world.

Cal yawned and stretched, and it was as if time had stopped there, and he wanted to go to rest, but for the sake of Liam's portrait, he continued to pose. However, despite his desire to stay awake, he still dozed off.

The marshal breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could look avidly at Cal without any embarrassment. Going even further, he took a blank canvas and replaced the old one.

As he quickly began to sketch the sleeping man, the marshal felt unusually excited. His hand fluttered over the canvas, capturing beautiful features. Cal slept peacefully in his chair and could not stop him.

Small droplets of sweat appeared on the marshal's forehead. He caught the moment of his highest inspiration and hurried to finish a new sketch before his model woke up. It took no more than an hour for another portrait to be almost finished.

Marshall looked at it with undisguised pride. Feeling slightly dizzy from the many efforts he had made, he rose from his chair and drank water straight from the decanter.

Having quenched his thirst, he felt that it was not good to leave his guest sleeping in such an uncomfortable posture and moved a soft pouf to his chair. Carefully placing Cal's feet on this footstool, he allowed him to stretch out and relax in the chair, and only put a rolled"up plaid under his head.

Leaving only one candle lit, he took a bottle of wine and a glass from the sideboard. Half-filled, the marshal sat back in his chair, raised his glass in the air, and saluted his guest.

Getting drunk alone was already a habit, as was wandering around the palace half"naked. For this reason, servants were hired exclusively male.

After the grape drink burned his throat, he involuntarily remembered his father, who had taken another woman as his wife when Pittsu was seven years old.

That's a long enough time to figure out his place in life. Pittsu didn't know what his mother had done to his father, but he never saw her again.

Drinking wine straight from the bottle, he tried to numb the bitterness of his memories. It was especially painful to think of his school friend.

Pittsu had just lost his only loved one, his mother, when his life changed again and he was taken to a boys' school, where everyone had to wear the same uniform and observe etiquette.

At first, he kept quiet for fear of saying something stupid or causing the teacher's displeasure. But one day a blond boy came up to him. His name was Christian, and he wore his name proudly, thinking it was the most beautiful name in the world.

Christian officially, or simply "Chris" at home, had a strength of character and strong convictions. He chose Pittsu as his friend and did not tolerate any objections.

He introduced his friend to the social circle of the other students and taught him to fill out his workbook, prepare for class, and behave with dignity in any situation.

At first, he was immensely grateful to his friend, but then he began to notice a strange peculiarity.

Pittsu increasingly noticed his blond friend staring at him for long periods, as if mesmerized and tried to understand the reason for this attention.