21

— Start building houses!—it's been so many years, blatantly obscene, since Karsten became king.— First dig the basements, in the places that I showed you!— the king points his finger at the map of the occupied lands.— And that all three residences should be like twins! Hmmm... The exile has not been found?—he finished in a calmer tone.

— Sorry, Your Majesty, there are no traces of the exile...— the servant is scared.

They are all afraid, they know that Wentworth the Mad, as they have already nicknamed him because of his temper, can easily kill. He kills for no reason sometimes.

The pencil with which Wentworth marked something on the map breaks in his hands.

The tyrant King exhales noisily.

— Keep looking.—Karsten says dryly.—Bring the prisoner to me.—Let's see what she says to me today...—

***

The bloody witch's face was smashed. The guards did not stand on ceremony with her, counted and broke every bone.

— You once loved...— the old woman says softly.— Not even once... And you think you can get her back... But no. Damn you, Wentworth Karsten... Your soul is dead.—

— Where is she? You probably know where Olga has gone!—Wentworth felt anger boiling inside him.

The hand shook.

— You're sick... Terminally ill... I know why you called me. Do you really want to live for more than a year?—The old woman narrowed her pale eyes.

— Make drugs that will increase my strength and you will get as much blood as you want!— his hands can't calm down.

— A person who is not really a person was born and grows up. He is not invulnerable, but he is immortal... If you drank it, you would live forever and possess this wonderful power...—

Wentworth exhales noisily.

—Will you find him?—The king asks.

— The force is not in my power... I don't own anything but blood... —

A huge flash of flame in my mind.

Anger.

Yes, it's an outburst of anger.

— Take him away.— the king waves his hand.

A thought, very short and fast, like a bird, flies through my head.

The thought that now he is an exact copy of the one he killed once ...

***

The servants are fighting.

The smell of blood.

Anger, already boiling almost constantly, is now flaring up again.

— What's going on here?— Karsten pushes the door with his foot.

— Sir, and you still haven't told me who will be here today...—The servant's voice broke and he coughed.— Who will be on duty at the mistakes.—

— I'm not bringing this to you myself, but Kara! I gave you the opportunity only occasionally to refuse duty and change! For the next fight, you will all receive full punishment! —

***

Wentworth Karsten never uttered this word aloud, which broke him and made him so cold.

Very often, in the very essence, he hated love as some kind of disease or weakness.

But he loved... Once he really felt love.

And now - only hatred.

His heart just stopped fluttering.

— I see them!— the servant comes running out of breath.— They'll be captured soon!—

— Kill.—Wentworth says calmly, stroking the bear, which he really likes to ride.

Yes. He can.

He can stand it if he doesn't see it.

But why are your hands shaking so

much? Are you mentally dead, Wenforth Karsten?

— Kill them all when you catch them!— he repeats.

Olga's daughter is already very grown up, in her eyes you can see the same persistence as her mother.

She is a human being, so it is clear that she was born from this saint.

Maria is great at throwing axes, but she doesn't have a very high speed, the wolves are catching up with her.

One axe cuts through the back of one of the werewolf pack.

Blood shot up in a short fountain.

That day, Wentfort lost more than a hundred of his soldiers, but some madman, who was also lying in wait for them, mortally wounded Maria.

But... Bjorn! Pale plague Bjorn!

Even though his hair had grown much longer, Wentworth was somehow completely sure that it was him.

Wolf eyes see very well.

So, Olga will not lose her daughter...

***

Staggering, Wentworth collapses into the second residence. Apparently, he was overtaken by a blow on his nerves...

— Drink...— the blood witch hands him a bottle.— Drink and you will become strong again!—Wentworth pours the potion into his mouth, preferring not to even think about what it's made of.

— The witch! Have you been treated to blood yet?— the king asks, grimacing from the most terrible taste.

— Don't drink anything before the moon appears! Otherwise it could kill you! One,—a bony finger sticks into his chest.— and your heart will burst in a moment...—

Wentworth went out. He didn't want to continue the conversation with the old woman, she is much nastier than all the potions she prepared.

The heat came up, but it was already like that.

The breeze of the world-conquering winter breathed pleasantly on the red face.

Once crookedly cut hair, Wentfort cuts it with such care and so smoothly, as if trying to surpass all perfection.

To calm himself down a little, the king slowly went to the armory.

What was not there! Hardly anyone else could boast of such a huge assortment of weapons, magical and non-magical.

Even the rarest Chinese cannons were here, and few people outside of China know about them.

Wentworth took out a powder bomb and twirled a black ball that looked like an apple in his fingers. This type of weapon, the one that would cause an explosion and leave no trace, was something the king felt a kind of passion for.

Paintings, an abundance of paintings. They are needed to remember if something floats away from the river of memory...

***

— Your Majesty, this was thrown on the threshold.— Kara approaches him.

A scroll bound with black pearls.

Pearls! Olga Valdez was wearing black pearls when he first saw her!

The thread bursts, the pearls, like black drops of poison, fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"On the wings of the color of night, death will come for you..."

— This is her handwriting...— the words came out on their own.

— Who? Oh...—Kara started to say, but Wentworth suddenly hit her.

He hit her in the face, for the first time in so many years!

Whimpering, the girl crawls away to the exit.

— Get out!—Wentworth shouted, overcome by madness.—If anyone else says her name, I'll kill her!—