Chapter 12.

Colonel Heverad watched Ned as the physician led him away to his chambers, and turned to Shentel, who stood silently, his thin, angry lips pressed together in a scornful grin.

- Well, Major, you've served! How much time do you need to hand over your affairs and collect your personal belongings? Will a day be enough? Or do you wish to commit suicide? I can provide a good blade!

- You won't! We'll see who wins. A day will be enough, - Shentel answered coldly and strode straight, as if he had swallowed a stake, towards the Security Service premises. No one followed him - neither the guards, his subordinates, nor the officers. Everyone looked after him and thought that they would never want to be in his place. Never.

Despite his outward calm, Major Shentel was seething, no, that's not the word - he was erupting like a volcano, emitting streams of hatred, red-hot, hissing like lava.

Who were these people who dared to cross his path? Who were these creatures? Heverad, a miserable nobody, unworthy of leading a corps, a drunkard and a thief, befriending a poor doctor! A sergeant, a nobody, a nobody – how dare he?

Shentel tried to find out who he was and where he came from, but he couldn't. The guy himself was silent, didn't talk about his origins, and it was impossible to find out anything in the usual way - he didn't drink, didn't smoke drugs, didn't sleep with prostitutes - so how do you expect to get information out of him?

Shentel tried to take over his friends, Oydar and Arnot, but they refused to cooperate even under threat of violence. And Ned was not friends with anyone else. Who is this guy who ruined Shentel's life?

The major unlocked the outer door of the room, entered, bolted it, walked down the corridor to his office, opened it and, stepping over the threshold, immediately went to the safe with the personal files of his agents. He took out the papers, fastened with string, and sorted through them for a long time, as if trying to peer into the yellowish sheets of denunciations. Everything was here and about everyone. Separately lay the dossiers on the officers - from their small dirty sins to the crimes that Shentel learned about and which he had kept secret for the time being - as in the case of Brock. And all in ashes. Everything! Everything that he had collected for years, all the dossiers, all the precious sheets of denunciations - incriminating, revealing, illuminating.

Shentel reached into the safe and picked up a bottle of wine that he had taken from one of the soldiers on the base grounds. He resolutely pulled out the soft cork made of shir tree bark with his teeth and, putting it to his lips, tipped the bottle back, pouring the contents down his throat. The tart stream flowed into his stomach, and his soul felt lighter. What should he do? How would he survive the exile? Now the news of his disgrace would spread throughout the capital. Who cared! He had the money, he could sit it out on his estate and try to start a career again. He had connections, and he would take this precious material for denunciations with him. Compromising evidence would always come in handy. Colonel Heverad would not live forever... especially if he put in some effort.

Shentel himself was a little scared of his own thoughts – commit murder? And why not? There is a problem – Colonel Heverad. He is a mortal man. Without him, there will be no problem! As in the case of Ned…

Shentel finished the bottle and reached into the safe again, pulling out another one…

He drank all night and hardly got drunk. It happens - nerves are tense, the body works at the limit and does not allow itself to relax. When the wine ran out, Shentel switched to ointment.

A light drug, it was basically no different from wine – excitement, relaxation (different for everyone), laughter, depression, the desire to do something, fussiness and loss of orientation – one could go on and on listing all the symptoms that the ointment caused.

In fact, there was no particular harm from this herb. But it had one property that made it dangerous. You can't smoke maze if you've had a lot to drink. The drug mixed with alcohol made a person crazy. No – not as crazy as real madmen, gnawing the bars of a madhouse cage or convulsing in fear, seeing ghostly monsters that suddenly grew out of their household members. No. The person walked, talked, did his usual things… but he didn't understand what he was doing. The drug completely liberated, releasing desires that sat in the subconscious. And the stoner didn't understand that he was doing something unrighteous, something that contradicted logic. But at the same time, he built complex schemes that seemed completely natural and logical to him.

After finishing the fifth pack of mazis, Shentel stood up, looked out the window – the sun had already come into its own, driving away the night. The major – or now former major – took his officer's sword and dagger, wrapped them in cloth so that they wouldn't be seen, left the Security Service building, leaving it open, and walked to the officers' barracks, trying to make sure that no one saw him.

The major's eyes were glassy, ​​his pupils dilated, and if anyone had met him on the road, they would have easily recognized that the major was under the influence of drugs. Even a child probably knew the symptoms of drug use in this city. But... he was lucky. No one met him, no one stopped him, no one noticed anything.

The orderly sergeant looked in surprise at the former commander, who squinted his eyes as if from the light, and, just in case, getting up from his seat, asked:

- For what purpose did Mr. Major visit the barracks? What is he looking for here?

- Is Ned the Black in his room?

"Yes," the orderly answered, perplexed, "he didn't go out."

- The rest?

- Everyone is at the inspection - today the Colonel held an inspection, they say - in a few days there will be maneuvers. And who are you looking for? Is there anything I can help with?

- Yes, you can. Look here! - The major put the package on the orderly's table and began to open it. Feeling the handle of the dagger, he squeezed it tightly with his right hand and, sharply pulling the blade out of the package, plunged it straight into the guard's heart.

The unfortunate man died almost instantly, losing consciousness, not making a sound, softly falling onto a chair and throwing his arms to the sides. Shentel only slightly held his twitching body, looking into his dimming eyes, in which a reproach was frozen - for what?!

Shentel didn't pull out the dagger so as not to get splashed with blood, but carefully grabbed the collar of the guy's uniform and dragged him along the corridor, towards the shower.

In fact, few people lived in the officers' barracks - everyone preferred either the officers' town or private apartments in the main city. Only servicemen like Drancon lived here, or Ned, who had no plans to rent an apartment yet, or maybe he just hadn't had time to do so.

Shentel left the body in one of the booths, leaning it against the wall. There was no blood – the dagger had plugged the hole in the chest. Now all that was left was to wait for Ned.

It was possible to try knocking on the door and calling him out of the room - but where was the guarantee that the major would not be disturbed by someone who accidentally returned to the barracks, and Ned could have time to prepare, take a weapon, and then Shentel would be in trouble. Ned was an excellent weapon user - it was proven. So, take him when he was naked. Shentel wanted to play it safe.

And the minutes of waiting flowed by.

They didn't have to wait long - the door slammed, the lock creaked, and someone entered the shower. Shentel didn't see who it was, but there was no one else there except Ned. The water began to roar, and the man snorted, splashing and spitting like a child.

The booth where Shentel was hiding was located quite far from the entrance, so it was impossible to notice from there that anyone was in it.

The major tore himself away from the wall he had been propping up for the last half hour, took his sword at the ready with both hands and, stepping quietly in his soft officer's boots, moved forward.

Yes, it was him, the hated puppy! Ned stood with his back to the exit, between the stone walls of the cabin, and snorted, throwing up splashes and streams of water with visible pleasure.

Shentel raised his sword high, brought it behind his head, aiming slightly diagonally at the top of the enemy's head, got ready... and then the unexpected happened! At the very moment when the sword was already going down and to the right, the guy shuddered, bent down and stood half-turned to the major, examining something near his leg! The sword, instead of knocking off half of the scoundrel's skull, flew past and crashed into the stonework of the shower with a ringing sound.

Shentel was mad: rage, hatred, a sleepless night, the alcohol he had drunk coupled with the drugs he had smoked, all merged into a single impulse – to kill, to kill at any cost! The sword flew in the hands of the madman like a feather, but Ned somehow managed to dodge, and sometimes even deflect the blade with his bare hands, easily hitting it on the flat side and redirecting the blow into the stone of the wall. Shentel did not feel tired, he had no thoughts left except one – to kill! Kill! Kill!

Suddenly, Shentel saw something incredible - his sword was stopped in mid-air, clasped between the palms of this strange guy, who was looking at the major with black, hollow eyes. The sword was motionless for only a split second, and then it twisted out of the man's hands, flying off with a clang to the wall of the shower. A second later, the major felt a terrible blow to his neck, tried to breathe, cough, but only let out a gurgling cackle. And then he fell to the floor, twitching in his last convulsions.

Ned slammed his torn-out trachea onto the floor in disgust, held his bloody hand under a stream of cold water that could wash away everything in the world, and the thick red liquid that stained his fingers colored the transparent "blood" of the glaciers that had run down the stone troughs from the top of Black Mountain pink.

Ned rinsed himself off again, then left the stall, stepped over the major's corpse, dried himself with his towel and pulled up his trousers, trying not to look at the corpse, under which a red stain was spreading. He went to his room, put on his best clothes, and went out into the corridor again. Returning to the shower, he walked along the stalls to confirm his suspicions. Finding the orderly's corpse, he nodded his head - he had assumed so - and, walking along the corridor, left the barracks. He felt bad. Nothing ever happens for nothing - a happy, good morning and, as a counterbalance, a mad killer. Either Ned was so unlucky, or life was so difficult ...

On the parade ground, as always, spearmen marched in orderly rows, swordsmen and crossbowmen moved through these rows, but the number of units maneuvering simultaneously was greater than usual. And on the sidelines, Heverad himself and both colonels, commanders of the second and third regiments, watched what was happening.

Ned considered what was best to do and found no other choice but to head straight for Heverad.

* * *

"Pathetic bastard…" Heverad said quietly, watching the major's body being carried out on a stretcher. "He should have killed himself in style, leaving with honor, but he took the guy with him too! What for? The family of the deceased should be given assistance and a pension. He died on duty, so he deserves help from the state. Adjutant, did you hear? Give orders in the office. And one more thing – send Major Sert to me. Let him take over Security affairs. Someone has to deal with the complaints. You, Sergeant, write a report in which you describe how it all happened. Everything, down to the smallest detail. At the same time, you will practice writing, it will come in handy. You need to be able to express your thoughts in writing. You are not bad at it orally. If not today, then tomorrow, for example. Rest. How are your wounds, are they okay? I don't see Zheresar… did you take the day off or something?" Oh well. Rest up, Sergeant. You've done a good job today. You've taken care of the problem. No man, no problem. He deserved it. But you're strong - with your bare hands and against a sword! Of course, he was on drugs - he reeks of the smell of mazise, ​​but still. A sword is a sword. I saw the notches on the partitions - at least ten blows. It's a wonder he didn't blow your head off.

"They helped me," Ned said thoughtfully, looking at the doors of the barracks, from which the body of the orderly was being carried out at that moment.

- Who helped? - the colonel did not understand. - You were there alone, weren't you?

"The spirit of my dead dog helped me," Ned said calmly and froze again, looking at the corpse on the stretcher.

- Dog spirit? Hmm-m-m...

"The guy's a bit off…, " thought Heverad. " No wonder, given the circumstances. However, each of us is a bit of a nutcase. Are there any normal people? If you delve into the soul of any person, you'll definitely find a bunch of different madness and abnormalities. And he's no exception. The main thing is to channel the madness in the right direction. He's a magnificent, simply divine fighter! So let him kill for the good of the kingdom, for the good of the people. Someone has to do it, so that the "grateful" townspeople, sitting at their peaceful table, snort after him. You always want someone else to do the unpleasant, dirty work. And that's when we, soldiers, despised by the "clean" civilians, appear . "

- Rest, boy, - the colonel said sympathetically, - so be it. As you wish. The main thing is, don't let anyone sneak up on you from behind. They certainly won't be able to overcome you from the front. Well done!

* * *

The guard at the base gate winked cheerfully at Ned, giving him a military salute. Ned raised his hand, too, smiling slightly at the boy, then walked through the gate, freshly painted with oil paint. The paint had not yet had time to harden completely, and Ned walked sideways, trying not to touch the new uniform.

It was a great pleasure to put on a new, beautiful thing - after all, he had never had new clothes, new shoes - only cast-offs and rags. And now here he was - striding like a confirmed dandy! He had white gloves, too, for the parade, but Ned did not dare put them on. It would be too much. It occurred to him - if the villagers saw how tough he was! They would probably stop turning their noses up at him! And die of envy! It began to laugh - would they die or would their noses stop turning noses up? First they would stop turning noses up, and then they would die!

Ned chuckled quietly to himself as he entered the city – it was about a li of cobbled road from the base to the streets, swept clean and smooth. Ned remembered with a grin how he, Oydar and Arnot had returned home from a drinking party. The road was strewn with soldiers, overcome by wine, moving sluggishly, as if after grievous wounds. About four weeks had passed since then, and he had not gone out into the city again. But then – he had never gone out LIKE THIS. Alone, without soldiers, without a whole crowd of guys trying to crawl to the sides like cockroaches.

It was pleasant to walk. Beautiful stone houses, people running about their very important business. Shop signs, brightly painted and covered with inscriptions, simple and with various ornate curlicues.

Suddenly a thought came to Ned's mind: "How can I come empty-handed? Am I supposed to bring something with me? Or is this just a village custom?"

Seeing a shop with a pretzel hanging on a chain, for some reason painted gold, Ned resolutely headed across the road and stepped onto a high porch with polished dark railings.

All the shops and generally the entrances to the houses here were much higher than the level of the pavement - Ned noticed this for himself right away, even on his first trip to the city. At first he was surprised - why is that? But his friends told him that there are very powerful rainstorms here, after which the streets are flooded to a height literally up to a person's waist. Stormy streams come down from the mountains, trying to wash the city into the bay, that's why all the entrances were located so high.

The shop smelled of some spices, the name of which Ned did not know. The pastries and sweets created a unique aroma that made the visitor's mouth water. Behind the counter stood a short, pretty girl of about eighteen, in a tight-fitting sarafan. She looked at Ned without surprise and, smiling slightly, asked:

- What would the officer like? Would you like some candy? Or some cream puffs? Everything is fresh here, my parents are masters at making cakes and candy. Two hundred years of experience, after all.

"And what, for two hundred years they only made candy?" Ned asked for some reason, his gaze drawn to the chest visible in the low neckline of the dress. When the saleswoman sighed, the chest rose and protruded from the tight bodice. The girl followed Ned's gaze, smiled sweetly and asked slyly:

- Do you like our goods? ( A handsome young man. Too bad he's a soldier. His mother wouldn't approve of such a groom. But why not? He's a sergeant, not some soldier. And those lips, those lips! I could just sink my teeth into them... Ugh, Sanda! What sinful thoughts are visiting you! Goddess of love, why are you inspiring me with carnal thoughts?! How sweetly he blushes... He's a boy, not much older than me. And so... His face is manly, His shoulders are broad... Our guys are as far from him as the capital is on foot! )

Ned blushed as he heard the girl's thoughts and forced himself to tear his gaze away from the tempting hemispheres:

- Uh-uh-uh... I need... I need... well, I'm going to visit, and I need to bring something with me. And I don't know what. Can you help me?

- Who are you going to? Hmm... I mean - a man, a woman, a girl, family or friends? Who are you looking for a gift for - the offering depends on that.

– Family. A man, two adult sons, a daughter and a wife.

– Well… Then let's have these cakes for the women – they are very popular because they are tasty and don't spoil the waistline – airy. And some candies of several kinds… cookies – salty and sweet. Salty ones for beer – there are spices in them. What else… hmm… well, that's it! Add a bottle of wine – there's a shop across the street – and the guest set is ready. That'll be five pieces of silver. Aha, your gold one, no smaller ones? You are a rich young man! Be careful, there are a horrendous number of pickpockets. They'll cut off your wallet and you won't even notice. Here's the change. All the best to you, have a nice visit! ( I wish I could grab you, squeeze you with my hands and feet... and not let go! What kind of demon is this?! Am I cursed? They look, but to invite you to a nice tavern, to dance, and then... to live a virgin forever, or what? Thanks to my mother - she took care of herself, and now I stand like a fool behind the counter! The men shy away! All sorts of ugly women immediately find themselves some kind of man, and sleep with them, and get married! But I, beautiful, can't! Are they scared or something? Are they afraid of beautiful ones? Maybe I should pluck my eyebrows uglier or ruin my hairdo?! Maybe then the men will be braver? What a nasty thing!)

Sanda's smile faded as soon as the door closed behind Ned, and she sank down into a chair, her elbows on the counter, propping her head up on them. Suddenly the door of the shop opened again and the sergeant from earlier walked in.

"Have you forgotten something?" the girl asked in surprise.

- I forgot! - Ned smiled warmly. - I forgot to tell you that you are as beautiful as a sunset over the sea! And every man would be happy to take you as his wife. And me too. But, alas, I am only a military man, and my life is unpredictable.

Ned suddenly leaned over the counter and kissed the girl on the cheek. The cheek was smooth, and the feeling of his lips touching warm skin that smelled of spices and incense was something he would remember for the rest of his life.

The girl was speechless from surprise and froze, looking at the guy with wide eyes.

Ned took his bag of cakes and quickly ran out of the shop. He was surprised by his own bold action - why did he do it? But he was terribly pleased to see the delight, surprise and joy in the girl's eyes. And also - this was his first, his very first kiss, and Ned felt it on his lips for several minutes, remembering the green eyes that were so close to his.

He no longer saw how the girl rushed to the slammed door, took hold of the handle, changed her mind, returned behind the counter, sat for about ten minutes, jumped up from her chair again and, running out onto the porch, began to turn her head, looking for someone in the crowd of passers-by. Then, silently and sadly, she entered the shop, sat down in her place, looking into space in front of her, and then began to cry bitterly, like children cry when they lose something that was dear to them and without which their life is impossible. Having cried enough, she decided: "I will find it! I will find it anyway! No matter what it costs me!"

With that she calmed down, took a rag and began to polish the counter, polishing the already smooth varnished board. Gradually she began to hum, and when her mother entered, she was already twirling in a dance, and from the side it seemed that she was holding an invisible partner by the waist, giving herself up to the dance completely. When she was asked in surprise what she was doing, the girl remained silent and only smiled mysteriously...

Ned walked along, smiling slightly, remembering the girl's astonishment. Then he noticed a sign with a bunch of grapes and a bottle - he went in there. After five minutes of discussing the properties of the wine, he became the owner of a bottle for a whole silver coin - buying wine cheaper seemed wrong to him. The seller claimed that this wine was of some year, that the very first persons in the capital drank it, and in general it was not wine, but the blood of the earth! And that he sold this wine to the sergeant very cheaply only because he himself was a former soldier and tried to give discounts to the soldiers.

Ned was forced to believe, since he had absolutely no understanding of the matter and was guided only by the price: expensive wine meant good wine. However, the high price was relative - there were bottles in the shop that cost gold. But this was too much, the guy thought.

The shopkeeper told him where Green Street was. It turned out to be only three blocks away, so he didn't have to hire a cab to get there, which was Ned's first option in case it was too far to walk.

The first passerby he met on Green Street pointed out to Ned a two-story house where, according to him, the doctor Zheresar lived. Indeed, everyone here knew him.

A door painted green, a large ring with a lion's head. Ned wanted to knock with his fist, then thought - after all, there was a reason for this ring to be here. He carefully pulled it - an "anvil" was found under the ring. You take the lion's head and knock on the "anvil"! - Ned realized and, pleased that he had solved the "riddle", energetically hit the ring three times. A minute later the door swung open - Zheresar was standing in the doorway, dressed differently from the one at the base - he was wearing knitted slippers, a loose shirt and the same loose trousers.

- O-o-o-o! Finally! - the doctor boomed joyfully. - Come in quickly! Our pie is getting cold! We've been waiting for you, and for a long time! Why are you late?

"There were reasons," Ned nodded his head, "I'll tell you later."

"Something serious?" the doctor frowned.

- Well... basically, yes. But it's all over now.

"Give me a few words, otherwise I won't be able to swallow a bite," the doctor muttered. "What happened?"

"Shentel. Tried to kill me," Ned answered shortly, stepping over the threshold of the house.

- Hmmm... what a fool. Well, I conclude that since you're here, Shentel is in the morgue?

"Aha," Ned said thoughtfully, looking into the corridor behind the doctor. There stood one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. She was already almost forty, but she was so well preserved that you couldn't give her more than twenty-five. Huge black eyes, a stately slender figure, beautiful hands – she was simply stunning in her appearance. Ned froze, his eyes wide open at this living goddess.

- What are you dumbfounded about? He-he-he... this is my wife Elsa. Come on, don't be embarrassed. Everyone reacts like that the first time. Then they get used to it. Or they don't. Sometimes I look at her and think: how the hell did I get such beauty?

"Because you're a good person," the beauty answered in a melodious voice and laughed as if bells were ringing. "And you also have a good salary."

- Did you see?! That's the main thing for you - your salary! - Zheresar said deliberately plaintively. - And without a salary, women don't need us!

"Don't listen to him, he's joking," the woman smiled. "Your name is Ned, right? Don't be embarrassed, come in. Don't take off your shoes – your boots are clean. And in general, you're so neat and clean – our slobs should learn to look after themselves like that. Come in quickly, we're going to have lunch now."

"I picked this up on the way," Ned, embarrassed, handed the bag to the woman, "take it!"

- O-o-o-o! My favorite cakes! What a great boy you are! Are all the soldiers in the corps so smart? Go to the living room. Kosta, see him out!

"Come on, come on quickly," the doctor beckoned to Ned with his hand and, putting his arm around his shoulders, lightly pushed him in the direction of the room from which his wife had come out.

The living room was large, light, and the whole house was so cozy that Ned involuntarily relaxed, as if he had entered his own home. However, he relaxed in vain. When he entered the living room, he saw a copy of Elsa on the couch by the window, only younger, and with such an arrogant look that looked Ned up and down.

- This is my daughter, Delora, and these are my sons, Hagen and Naskar. They've already eaten something! Why didn't you wait and leave the table?! - the doctor roared. - I ordered you not to gobble it up without us!

- Well, I'm hungry, dad! - the long-haired guy, as big as a wardrobe, said in a bass voice.

- Aha! We're hungry! - echoed another. - We've been waiting for mom's pies since morning!

- Okay, let's go to the table. And you sit down, Dela. Stop looking at the street. The prince won't arrive on a golden horse!

- What if? - the girl giggled. - However, dad, you are right - you will definitely not wait for a prince in this backwater. Only poor soldiers wander here! - The girl glanced at Ned and imperceptibly wrinkled her nose, turning to her brothers so that their father could not see.

Ned sat down on the offered place and froze, like a wooden idol. He did not know how to behave in society. And he did not even know in which hand to hold a fork, in which a knife, or how to hold them at all. No, in fact, he knew how to hold a knife, and very well, but only for fighting. But how to behave at the table - he did not know. Ned tried to appeal to the memory of the "Black", but received no response. It seemed that the knowledge he received through the artifact concerned only magic and martial arts. Then Ned turned on his extra-sensitive perception. He had an idea how to cope with his ignorance.

"What a blockhead! Why did dad bring him into the house? Everyone knows that the corps soldiers are complete boors and rabble! He doesn't even know how to behave at the table! Now he'll probably tear it with his hands and stick his snout in the plate!" Delora thought.

- Well, shall we begin? - Elsa asked with a smile. - We were expecting you earlier, so we were a little hungry. ( Good boy. He's shy. And Delora is acting like a fool again!) What will you have? Let me serve you a little of everything myself, okay? - The woman smiled radiantly at Ned, and he felt his nerves, ringing like strings, relax a little. It was easier for him to fight with Shentel than to sit here now, at the common table with the Geresar family. At least there he would know what to do!

The soup was very tasty. Ned watched how the others were doing it, followed them by taking pieces of the flatbread, carefully, trying not to make noise, putting the contents into his mouth and eating quietly, without slurping, remembering how Oydar had scolded the ill-mannered soldiers in the canteen.

Delora constantly commented on his behavior, hoping for the failure of " this stupid soldier ." Ned was calm, collected, but he just couldn't enjoy the delicious food to the fullest - this constant control over himself got in the way.

Finally they moved on to tea and cakes. The maid brought the unopened bottle, the one Ned had brought, and Geresar, grunting with satisfaction, looked at Ned in surprise:

- And you know your wines, I see! This is a very good year, a glorious wine. Maybe you'll drink a little? Just a little, so you know the taste of good wine! And I'll pour you some, you slackers, just for the company. Just a little! Hey, where are you taking the bottle?! What kind of kids are you! By the way, why do you have a black eye? Have you been playing pranks again? What will become of you is completely unclear! You, Hagen, a big bastard, what are you going to do? Or will you spend your whole life living off your father?

- What's that around your neck? - the big guy was offended. - By the way, I asked you to get me into the corps! And what about you?

- And I asked! - muttered the more puny Naskar. - So why can Ned, but not us? How are we worse?

- Hmm-m-m... - Zheresar mumbled, puzzled. - Ned's circumstances were such that he had nowhere else to go, and everything in your life is fine, why expose your chest to enemy arrows?

"What are Ned's circumstances?" Delora asked innocently. "Did he kill someone? Or rob someone? Or steal from someone? They say the building is full of bandits and thieves. And half-wits, too."

There was silence in the room, then the doctor's voice thundered:

- Get away from the table! Stupid!

The doctor threw a folded napkin at his daughter, and it hit her right in the forehead. The girl pouted and demonstratively, without looking at anyone, left the table. A few moments later, her shoes were already knocking on the stairs leading up.

- Sorry, Ned, - the doctor looked at the guy guiltily, - well, you're a fool, that's all! You got your beauty from your mother, but your intelligence... your intelligence you didn't get.

- Sorry, - Elsa nodded, - but what can you do? Her whole life is about rags, talk about a profitable marriage and life in the capital. Her father has already beaten her - it's useless. Maybe she'll get married and become smarter? Although - it's unlikely.

The woman sighed with a sad smile and took a sip of wine from her glass:

- Yes, good wine. Have a sip. I know you don't drink, but for the occasion... no big deal.

- A soldier, and he doesn't drink? - Hagen snorted. - What's this? Why don't you drink? Some kind of vow? Or something else? Are you sick?

- Stop it, Hagen, - the doctor stopped him, - the soldiers of the corps are never asked about their former lives. That life is in the past. They started from scratch. All of them. But you should learn from Ned how to lead a proper life! Who dragged himself home drunk last week, like a longshoreman after work? Wasn't it you? You're starting early!

- Dad, I want to go to officer school, - Hagen said unexpectedly firmly, - and Nas wants to. Why are you against it? You praise Ned, but we are always in the bad ones! And we don't want to become merchants or doctors! We are fighters! We are stronger and more agile than any of your soldiers! We are the same age as Ned, and we want to join the army!

- Fools! - Zheresar muttered with annoyance. - The army is hard work, the army is sweat, blood, it is... it is... death! Mother will not forgive me if you die! No, no and no! As for the fighters - you are puppies compared to that same Ned! You are one and a half times wider than him, and you wouldn't last a second in a fight against him!

- Oh, come on! - Hagen grinned. - I'll never believe it. Well, maybe it is with a sword. Or whatever they train them with... And hand-to-hand combat - they're worthless. Naskar and I have been going to martial arts school for a year now! And we're the best students there!

- How are you walking? - the doctor frowned. - How?! Where did you get the money for the school? You gave it to me! - he realized, looking at his wife, who had lowered her eyes. - And why? Why do you indulge their stupidity? Why didn't you ask me?!

- Kosta... you're wrong, - his wife frowned. - I know my sons better than you do. You're stuck in your corps and don't notice what's going on at home. They're crazy about the army, reading scrolls and books on martial arts, dreaming of going to officer school and making a career like Nulan! My father was a soldier, so what? He's alive and well, sitting in his house and keeping bees! He gets a good pension. You can help them get into school and find a good place through Heverad, right? Why are you letting things slide? What if they run away and enlist in some deadly place like your corps? What then? Haven't you thought about it? It's better to direct them in the right direction and control them than like this...

- Why are you instilling wrong thoughts in them? What do you mean, they'll run away?! What the hell is that? I'll run away to them!

"We'll run away, we'll run away!" the brothers nodded. "We'll definitely run away!"

- Ned, I'm sorry for dragging you into a family scandal, - Elsa smiled. - I wonder, what do you think about my children's desire to serve in the army? How do you see this army from the inside? You recently joined it, right? How are you doing there? Maybe you can tell my children? My husband is fanatically in love with his demon corps, but at the same time he forbids others to love him! They asked a hundred times to go with him to the base, but he refused them just as many times! So what do you think about the army?

Ned paused, glanced sideways at his brothers, who stood frozen with smiles on their faces, sighed, making up his mind, and said regretfully:

- Forgive me, but I think that both guys see only the veneer of the army. They think that when they get into the army, they will become the coolest, most famous fighters, and also that all the girls will run after brilliant officers like them. They think that now they are cooler than everyone else, that they can beat anyone - due to strength and agility, due to knowledge of martial arts, and they want to rise in this regard even more. And they think about nothing else. In my opinion, they should not be allowed anywhere near the army yet. Their heads are filled with duels and beautiful uniforms. They have heard all sorts of nonsense, that's why they are acting weird.

- There! Exactly! - Zheresar clapped his hands three times, and his claps sounded as if someone had hit the table with a huge stick. - I think so too! The idiots have heard stories, read some books about the army and imagined God knows what! They say they can beat any soldier with their shitty skills! But you have never been in a real battle and do not know what it is! You do not know what death is! You do not know what the blood of the man you killed smells like! And there you go - talking about the army. Idiots, in a word. When you grow up, then we will talk. It would be better if you learned to look after yourselves. Look at Ned - clean, ironed, pressed! Hair is clean, styled in a military ponytail! And what about you? Like vagabonds! It's disgusting to look at!

- Why do you keep pointing at Ned? - Hagen was indignant. - He's the same age as us, he's new in the corps, and does he even know what the blood of a man he killed smells like? You've completely disgraced us! And I'm telling you - we're no worse and better than many fighters! And we'll roll your Ned like a pile of brushwood! We're the best students in the school! Stop belittling us! And you, Ned, should hold your tongue - you braggart and chatterbox! Daddy fell in love with you for some reason and begged for a sergeant's position! Don't I know? I heard them talking to their mother - like an orphan, I feel sorry for him, a smart boy, I asked Heverad, so he arranged... blah-blah-blah. And now you're here talking about things you don't know. Upstart and braggart! ( You damned idiot! I'd break you over my knee, you pompous bastard! Are you still advising my parents something, idiot!)

The table was silent again, broken only by the clinking of Nascar's spoon in his mug. Then there was such a roar that Ned almost jumped.

- You bastard! How dare you insult a guest?! You bastard! I invited a guy to stay with friends, as if he were in his own family, and what did you do?! This little bastard started saying nasty things, and you started doing the same?! You've grown your hair out, don't you tidy it up properly? I'll rip it out right now! You bastard!

Total chaos and confusion ensued – Zheresar jumped out from behind the table, tried to grab Hagen by his hair, he dodged and hid behind his mother. Naskar ran to the side just in case, joyfully supporting his brother with shouts like "He's coming from the left! Hold on, corps!" Delora was laughing on the stairs, having come down to watch the scandal, and only Elsa was sitting quietly, smiling sadly. She watched Ned eat a piece of pie, not paying attention to the noise and shouts, then said:

- You see, that's how we live. He'll come, give us a run for our money, and then he'll go back to his corps. Who do you think they're so disobedient after? So wild and stupid? They predicted a career for him as a singer - do you know how he sings? Just ask him to sing something - it just gives you goosebumps. But he went into medicine. And don't be offended by the guys... they don't mean to say that. You must forgive them - they're idiots. We've spoiled them a bit, I guess. I think an officer's academy would be useful. But Kosta doesn't want to hear anything about it, and that's it. I'm sorry again for dragging you into this scandal - I didn't think it would all turn out like this.

"Oh, come on," Ned chuckled, "I've seen all sorts of things. It's even funny."

- Blockheads! Freaks! You've got Ned stuck in this conversation! Stupid bastards - he could put you both on one palm and not even have to pat you with the other! You'll turn into a wet spot, turn into shit!

Zheresar sat down, breathing heavily and wiping his sweat with a napkin:

- They're strong! You're idiots! It's one thing to twitch in the training room, and another to fight in real life! You'd shit yourself if you got into situations like Ned!

- What kind of situations? - Hagen asked ingratiatingly, grinning. - Did you fight over a piece of flatbread in the soldiers' mess or something?

"It's none of your business," the doctor grumbled. "If he wants to, he'll tell you himself. He just killed a man, a sword master, in a duel last night," Zheresar added unexpectedly. "That swordsman would have simply chopped you into pieces, but he cut him open like a fish! He gutted him so badly that we could barely put him back together! So hold your filthy tongues!"

- Costa! At the table! - Elsa shook her head reproachfully. - What, Ned, really? Is it really true?

- Am I lying to you or something? - the healer was indignant. - You still ask! He won a duel of honor! With spear against sword! You, my idiots, are far from Ned. So shut your tongues in...

- Kosta, please, no army rudeness! - Elsa asked. - Ned, could you tell me what kind of duel it was? I'm interested too. Please...

"If you ask, how can I refuse you," Ned smiled, "but is it worth telling? It's a dirty story."

"Please tell me," Elsa smiled again, "after all, I come from an officer's family, and questions of honor are not at all alien to me."

"Okay then," Ned shrugged.

The story went on for about twenty minutes, interrupted by the doctor's additions and Elsa's questions. The brothers sat there all the time, looking at Ned with wide eyes, and when he had finished, Hagen said:

- Great! Awesome! Made me want to join the army even more! And what happened to this Shentel? Did he commit suicide?

"You could say that," Zheresar chuckled. "He attacked Ned this morning and tried to kill him. Where was it, Ned?"

"In the shower," the guy answered, frowning. "He killed the orderly, dragged him into the shower, and waited there for me to come. Then he attacked me from behind. I survived by chance… I bent down when the major hit me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be talking to you now. He was aiming his sword at my head."

"And how did you manage it?!" Elsa asked, raising her hand to her mouth in fear.

"Something like that… killed him," Ned answered. "He wanted to live, so he survived."

- I don't believe it, - Naskar grumbled, - against a sword... with bare hands... are you fibbing? You've invited some kind of demon into your house, not a man. I don't believe these tales!

"To be honest, I don't care whether you believe me or not," Ned chuckled and became serious: "I think it's time for me to go. Thank you for having me."

- Stay a while! - Zheresar became agitated. - You're leaving so quickly! And all of you, blockheads! For once a normal person came to visit, not all of your idiot friends - you scared him so much with your behavior! Idiots!

- Well, he wasn't afraid of a sword with his bare hands, - laughed Naskar, - but he was afraid! He was just tired of our company, that's all.

- No, it's just a company, - Ned winked, - I've seen worse. But your parents are wonderful. You really are idiots not to appreciate them.

- Now, now! Hold your tongue, - Hagen intervened. - What we value and what we don't value is our business. Once you're ready, get going. Ouch!

The piece of pie thrown by his father hit Hagen right in the face, leaving greasy streaks and bits of filling on it. Elsa stood up and, looking sternly at her son, said:

- I haven't spoken to you for three days. You've crossed all boundaries. Get away from the table!

* * *

Ned walked back to the base sad, not at all like when he went to visit. Everything was not as he expected. For some reason, he thought that such a good man as the doctor would have such nice children. Alas... Strangely, he was very annoyed about this. Why? He himself did not know. It was as if he had received an empty wrapper instead of a candy.

And then he remembered the salesgirl. His soul warmed, and her face appeared before his eyes, and also – he remembered the girl's thoughts about how she would not let him go and would cling to him with her hands and feet. Suddenly dreams began to ripen in Ned's mind – what if… Or maybe…

He threw these thoughts aside abruptly, as if he had deflected an enemy sword – who would need it? Why would some girl, well-bred, pure and homely, need an orphan without a family? The lot of such orphans is prostitutes and the barracks. Should he hope for family happiness? And he decided – not worth it. And he also thought – he has some free time, maybe he should go to those women Zheresar had spoken of? The ones who live near the temple? And why not? After all, he is a soldier, not some… boy!

Ned frowned, stopped in the middle of the road so abruptly that a passerby almost crashed into his back, and, turning over his shoulder as if on a parade ground, walked back towards the center of the city.