by Ervin Agayan
“No, I’m not keen on poetry.”
“I had an admirer about two years ago. He was a poet, who dedicated his poems to me. He used to recite his poems expressively when we met. He did it standing on his knees, placing one hand on his heart, and stretching the other one aside.” Parelia smiled, recalling that scene.
“And you liked it?” Arsy asked with doubt.
“I did the very first time, but then I was sick with it.” Parelia laughed. “Well, you know, maybe other girls like it when young men dedicate poems to them and recite them with emotion and eloquence. As for me, I wanted to run away. I held out until the end of the date only out of politeness, but in the end, instead of putting an end to that nightmare, I agreed to meet another time.”
“And how did you eventually get rid of him?” inquired Arsy.
“With the help of Erania.” Parelia giggled. “She thought highly of that guy, and I used that fact for my benefit. I told my poet admirer that my friend liked him a lot, and since her happiness was way more important to me than my own, I couldn’t date him anymore. I thought Erania and he would find common ground and make a nice couple, but it didn’t work out. One fine day, Erania came to me and said, ‘Arpy, let’s think of a way to get rid of him.’ I couldn’t stop laughing for an hour, and then we decided to pawn the poor guy off on Elmunia.”
“And it worked?” asked Arsy, knowing the answer full well.
“No, hearing Elmunia’s name, he fled. After that incident, he didn’t come around for more than a year.” Parelia burst out laughing again.
“Nowadays, even moms scare their kids with Elmunia so that they don’t misbehave,” joked Arsy.
“You are exaggerating!” frowned the princess. “She’s not the witch you picture her to be.”
“Do you get rid of all your admirers that way?” Arsy changed the topic.
“No, I prefer bitter truth to sweet lies,” she said somewhat regretfully. “I think it is better to tell the person openly that you don’t like him than to stage a play to get rid of him. I know it’s cruel, but it’s the right thing to do, though sometimes, I find it really hard to tell them the truth, for I feel sorry for the guys.”
“And they put up with it without struggle?”
“They do, for I never give them a second chance,” Parelia cut short.
“They are indeed weak-willed!” snapped Arsy with undisguised contempt.
“Oh, come on. You’d do the same.”
“You are mistaken. I’d struggle until the end of my life,” Arsy declared resolutely and added, “That means none of them really loved you.”
“Maybe you are right.”
Parelia felt Arsy stop braiding. “Are you done?” She started touching her hair carefully.
“Yes, but the result is not the best. I’ll fix it with some flowers.”
“Oh, only not that!” the girl exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “I don’t like it. Sometimes, Elmunia braids my hair and decorates it with flowers. Others are certainly delighted with it, but personally, I don’t like it. Can I go now? Oh, sorry. I phrased it wrong.” Parelia theatrically pressed her hands to her breast, put on a plaintive face, and implored dramatically, “My master, your servant wants to know if she can take a leave.”
“Okay, I grant you permission,” declared Arsy with a triumphant smile.
“Thank you!” Parelia took a few steps, but then she turned around. “What about you?”
“I’ll stay here to write poetry,” she heard him answer.
“Are you serious?” She turned to him in full, as though she misheard him.
“No.” Arsy smiled and added with a serious expression, “Erania already told everything to Erik. He must be angry with me, so I’d rather stay out of his sight.”
Parelia nodded silently and stood looking at him for a while, and suddenly, she smiled. “Anyways, you’d better work on poetry. Who knows? Maybe you’ll make a famous poet one day.”
“Arpy, would you like to be my partner in bling?” Arsy asked all suddenly.
This unexpected question caught her off-guard, but she shook her head without a moment’s hesitation.
“No, I play in a pair with Erania.”
“Yes, but she isn’t very good at this game.” Arsy made a wry mouth and added triumphantly, “Together, we’ll beat everybody.”
“Are you a good player?” Parelia asked doubtfully.
“Not really. I am a good swindler.”
“So, you want to win through swindling?” exclaimed the girl.
“Not only. We can think of our own system of winking.” Arsy winked at her, as if the game had begun.
“Oh my God, we are so different! Just like opposite poles!” exclaimed Parelia. “You can’t even imagine how much I appreciate high-minded, honest, and sincere people, while all your thoughts are about fraud, scam, and deception.”
“It’s just a game.” Arsy shrugged his shoulders. “There isn’t a single law prohibiting swindling.”
“Yes, but there are written laws, which have not been heard about by such people like you,” the princess said through her teeth arrogantly.
“All means are good for victory.” The robber brought forward his argument with an equally arrogant smile.
Parelia was about to answer him, but then she changed her mind, as if realizing the futility of her effort. She took a deep breath, cast a disgruntled look at Arsy, and turned around sharply, swinging the braid plaited by him. The smile didn’t leave Arsy’s lips until her shadow-figure disappeared from sight.
The Dinner Following the Trial
A few hours after the trial, Arsy experienced no more pain in his legs, though walking was still challenging for him. Zens helped him go down to the second floor. The dinner table was laid in the main hall of the castle. Lord Mesdrin, his wife Lady Morena, their daughter Nihena, and some other people unknown to the guests—probably relatives and neighbors of the Mesdrin family, were already seated at the table.
The hall was huge. Depending on the circumstances, it was also used as a refectory, a ballroom, and a gym for various entertaining games.
The high ceilings ended in a dome-shaped, glazed roof that let in rays of sunlight. The center of the hall featured tall, round columns of smooth, dark marble, creating a kind of islet where Lord Mesdrin usually received his guests. The wall was interrupted along its perimeter by high arched windows through which sunbeams penetrated the hall, so the room was well-lit, even on cloudy days, and the lights were not put on until sunset.
Unlike the view from the outside, the inside of the walls was executed with a smooth light brown stone with the addition of gilded details in the form of small pilasters, low rails, and capitals. The vaulted ceilings, bends of columns, and ledges were decorated with mosaic in the form of geometric patterns. Mysterious signs were cut everywhere, the meaning of which was known only to Mesdrin’s family.
The floor was executed with smooth, multi-colored marble bearing dark brown circles and spirals that formed fanciful patterns.
The main hall was always light filled. When the sun's rays penetrated the arched windows and flooded the marble walls and floor with light, the room acquired a stunning and near-divine glow, as if peering at a precious stone on a bright, sunny day.
Despite the fact that the table was laid, no one touched the food; everybody was waiting for Sensei Farin. Zens stared at the sumptuous dishes. Arsy felt that his stomach was about to turn inside out at the mere smell of those delicious-looking viands. Sitting so close to such appetizing dishes after days of survival on darn near waste and containing oneself not to rush at them—that was a true trial!
Rumors about Arsy spread throughout Agastan, so it was no wonder that he appeared to be the first topic of the conversation. Not very long ago, one of the major newspapers published a long article about him. The issue in which it was published lay on the table in front of Lady Morena, so she expressively read it aloud from beginning to end.
While she was reading, the serv
ant gave another newspaper to Lady Morena; this one featured a photo of Erathos, where he looked like the devil with red eyes, horns, and a sword in his hands. Erania stood behind his back. Lady Morena showed Arsy the photo of Erathos and asked, “Does he look like himself?”
“They overplayed with the horns,” answered Arsy.
“It is stated here that he does not always appear in that image, but only takes the demonic shape from time to time,” remarked Lady Morena.
“Then you should know better,” said Arsy, looking at Lord Mesdrin. “You’ve been pursuing him for so long and even fighting him occasionally.”
“My girl,” Lady Morena turned to Nihena, “come here! I think there’s some writing on his sword. Can you decipher anything with your eagle eye?”
Nihena took the newspaper from her mother’s hands and started examining the sword that Erathos was holding in the photo.
Nihena liked changing the elements of her appearance several times a day. This time, she had put on crimson nail polish and matching lipstick. She also changed her earrings and necklace.
“You are right, Mom! It’s his name engraved on the sword—Erathos.”
“Damn him!” Lady Morena said through her teeth. She was a very kind woman, but in that moment she was overwhelmed with hatred towards Erathos, who had killed her son—Estron. At the thought of her son, she felt aggrieved, and her eyes filled with tears. Deadly silence fell over the room. Everybody plunged into their memories of Estron.
Morena was blessed with legendary beauty. They say that even the most restrained and cold-blooded mercenaries always start stammering and blushing whenever they see her up close. As the wife of the head of the mercenaries, Morena always behaved well, and like any woman of her level, she was able to highlight both her external and internal beauty.
Morena attained her outward attractiveness from Mother Nature and from her family line, which was famous for having female beauties. Tall and slender, she always represented elegance and femininity. Even after giving birth to two children, her figure had preserved its ideal proportions and shape. Morena placed emphasis on this through her refined dresses and ornaments. At the same time, her image never seemed vulgar, making it clear that she was, first of all, a mother and wife of a respected personality.
Still smooth and resilient, her skin seemed to refuse to succumb to time’s impact, remaining ever young and healthy. Only small, barely noticeable lines in the corners of her eyes reminded of the hardships of the last times and the load of emotional excitement for the children that Morena bore on her thin shoulders. The shade of her face might seem pale to someone, as if the skin did not succumb to even the local hot sun, but this color became an excellent canvas on which nature, the great artist, painted one of her best masterpieces.
Sensual ripe lips were always ready for a kind and sincere smile. A straight, chiseled nose, which many poets called “noble,” and expressive cheekbones held a light glow on her cheeks. And, of course, incredibly expressive and shining eyes made men turn and stare. Only recently, Morena’s eyes had acquired an icy gleam of hatred that flared up at every mention of the devil who killed her only son.
When her well-groomed sharpened eyebrows, lush eyelashes framing her eyes, and long wavy hair of a tinge of delicious chocolate are added to this description, you get the image of a woman who can never be forgotten.
Morena looked flawless as always. This was not only because of her status as the wife of the leader of the mercenaries. She always strived for excellence in everything.
Her headdress was decorated with natural white pearls. Golden threads were used to weave fanciful patterns on her red dress, fitting her slim shape. The earrings, necklaces, and rings of blood red rubies completed her image. Braided in a long, wavy braid, her hair fell past her shoulders and down to her magnificent breasts.
“I was dreaming of his marriage and my grandchildren…” Lady Morena continued after a prolonged pause with a voice trembling with excitement. “How can one send one’s son to death?!”
These words were first of all addressed to Lord Mesdrin.
“What are you speaking about, wife?!” Lord Mesdrin said angrily.
“I am speaking about the fact that you sent your only son to fight with the devil in flesh! If you want my opinion, you behave as though it wasn’t your son who was killed but just one of your soldiers.”
“All my soldiers are my children! Understood?” cried Lord Mesdrin. “If I lost my son, they all lost a brother. Can you understand this?! It’s not only our grief. It’s the grief of all of us, and no one will rest until they claim vengeance for their brother. So, you better keep silent. I suggest we shouldn’t argue!”
“I am not arguing. I am telling you the truth.” Lady Morena kept opposing him.
“And what is your truth about?”
“I bitterly regret having married you…”
“You had to think about it before marrying me,” Lord Mesdrin remarked ironically.
“Mom, let’s not argue in the presence of guests!” implored Nihena, but Lady Morena ignored her request.
“If I only knew what kind of dangers you’d subject my children to, I’d never have married you!” Lady Morena filled her glass with water and took a sip tensely.
The job of mercenaries now seemed disgusting to her, while in the past, when she was young, she found their adventures quite exciting and even romantic. It was this romanticism that also dazzled her daughter, who made up her mind to become a mercenary.
“Simply amazing,” said Lord Mesdrin with a helpless gesture. “You knew perfectly well who I was and what my job was. I wonder if you didn’t quite realize who you were marrying.”
“I did, but I couldn’t suppose it would be so dangerous,” Lady Morena said with an upset voice. “I thought we were the most powerful people in Agastan, and nothing would ever threaten us. How could I know that someday we’d have to fight the devil?”
“I also didn’t know that,” Lord Mesdrin answered in a milder tone.
“Then why did you start hunting him?” asked Lady Morena.
“Because that’s what our job is about—finding criminals!” followed her husband’s response.
“Seriously? Then how can you explain the fact that Arsy, being the most wanted criminal of the time, enjoys a carefree life in Agastan, and on top of it, is sharing a meal with us right now? Not only didn’t you catch him, but you accepted him into our house and have made him feel like a respected guest.”
“We’ll start hunting him as soon as we receive a request to catch him,” threatened the lord, casting an unkind glance at Arsy. “However, no one has turned to us with such a request. As for the reasons, they are none of my business.”
“Why can’t we just live in peace?” Lady Morena wouldn’t let up. “We could take up farming, if nothing else.”
“Stop it, Morena!” Lord Mesdrin slammed his fist on the table so angrily that the plates rang out. “Catching criminals is in our blood. Do you understand that? Every mercenary must realize all the dangers present in his life. If someone doesn’t like it, he’s free to leave Mozakon.”
“Dad is absolutely right in this matter,” Nihena supported him. “Every mercenary must realize the danger present in the lives of all of us and be ready for the loss of a dear person.” Looking at her father resolutely, she said, “By the way, Dad, you must also be ready to lose me someday. After my battle with Erathos, only one of us will remain alive.”
Hearing this, Lord Mesdrin froze open-mouthed. He felt his daughter’s impudent stare on him, along with his wife’s almost hateful expression. Coughing timidly, the lord adjusted his collar then slowly rose from his seat and addressed his wife.
“Hey, why is our athletically built daughter still single, wife?” he asked, pointing at Nihena.
“She’s your daughter too, so ask her yourself!” Lady Morena jerked up her chin arrogantly.
“But it’s you who’s in charge of her marriage!”
“From n
ow on, I leave that challenging mission to you,” Lady Morena declared with a smirk.
“And I’ll cope with it perfectly well,” Lord Mesdrin answered with dignity, whereas his expression showed obvious perplexity.
He scrutinized all the people in the room, and fixing his eyes on his neighbor at his right, Lord Mesdrin addressed him, “My brother Vaso, please, find a suitor for my daughter!”
“No problem, brother Mesdrin. I’ll do it,” the latter answered with a confident smile.
Hearing this, Nihena burst out laughing. It was always funny for her to listen to discussions around the topic of finding a suitor for her.
“By the way, what’s the point of looking further if the suitor has personally arrived in our house? Look at these young men, Mom.” Nihena pointed at Zens and Arsy. “Who do you think best suits the role of my fiancé?”
Zens barely choked on his own saliva, which he struggled with for quite a while, trying not to think about the delicious food on the table. Arsy maintained a stone face.
“What?” Lady Morena showed surprise.
“I’m telling you these two men came to ask for my hand. They just can’t find the courage to confess it. I want to know your opinion. Which one should I pick?” Nihena specified with a smile.
Lady Morena switched her astonished gaze onto her husband.
“Why are you looking at Dad? I’m not interested in his opinion,” declared the daughter. “If I listen to him, I should marry a peasant’s son.”
“Morena, pick one of them right now, and we’ll arrange the wedding for tomorrow,” Lord Mesdrin cracked a joke in his turn.
“Tomorrow!” exclaimed Nihena. “Why not? I’m getting married tomorrow! Mommy, make up your mind quickly to start the wedding preparations.”
“Are you kidding me?” the mother asked unconfidently.
“No, I’m pretty serious.” Nihena’s tone was indeed serious. “These two like me a lot, and they both proposed to me. I just don’t know which one to choose. Zens is a divorcee, and he has a child, and Arsy is a world-famous bandit.”
