Raven's Soul. Volume 1
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Instead of answering, the warriors hammered their swords loudly against their iron shields, making so much noise that King Derek himself cringed and raised his hand to signal them to stop.
– Take whatever you can find! Gold! Fabric! Stones! But no fighting and no squabbling! And one more thing: All demons in the city and in the palace are now under my protection! That means no rape and no killing! Anyone who violates this order will be executed by me personally!
– Unfair!
– Just this once!
– King, this order is too harsh! – The warriors wailed sadly, already anticipating how they would find a demoness each and make them do what they ordered, without violence.
– This is an order! – loudly, in a voice full of steel, repeated the king. – Now to the wine cellars! Bergil! Leave the guard!
– As you say, my King! – The chief of the guard eagerly responded. – Now, that's what I understand. But to deprive our soldiers of female affection?
– That order applies to you and to me," Derek told him grimly. – We are not beasts to rape and kill those who ask for peace.
– Do you know what I think, Your Majesty? You're too noble, and the damned demons don't deserve your kindness at all! – Bergil grumbled, but he dared not disobey, even though he wanted to catch a lush demoness in his arms.
Bergil was not a stranger to violence, but Derek shunned it: he preferred making love to raping women, and he recognized only consent, not the use of his power. Besides, there were many women in his kingdom who wanted to be in his bed: despite the fact that his mother was considered a sorceress who had intercourse with the Devil, Derek was a king after all and was generous with gifts to his mistresses.
Derek smiled crookedly at Bergil and ordered him to give his warriors a decent rest and a place to sleep. And the warriors, looking around in surprise and interest, began to enter the front door of the huge palace of demons, the heart of Flammehav, surrounded by a scattering of red mist. The inhabitants of the palace did not meet their enemies: they hid whoever they could, fearing the wrath and violence that the other inhabitants of the kingdom had faced earlier.
"Everything about these damned brats seems to be covered in blood: they love the color of blood! They even named their palace Blutoke! Blood mist!" – The king thought contemptuously as he scrutinized the tall palace of the demons, which seemed to be trying to tear apart with its tall, sharp spires.
This building was a majestic, ornate structure made of red stone and iron, its silhouettes illuminated by the gold that adorned it. Gold was everywhere, and this excessive luxury further alienated the race of demons from the king of men, who was used to the calm and icy lights of his own palace in the capital city of Kaldwind. Blutoke's demon palace screamed and flaunted its vulgar opulence, reminding Derek of one of the great brothels of Sturfjel, his capital, whose walls and floors were also covered in a screaming scarlet velvet, the color of vice and temptation. Derek knew from the merchants of Kaldwind what orgies and debauchery were going on in the palace of the great Lamar, but he rightly considered himself, who had deprived dozens of virgins in his kingdom of their innocence, not entitled to mock the fact. For, as the king admitted to himself, he was no better than the demons in this respect.
Blutoke had a kind of asymmetry incomprehensible to the human eye, and was so huge that its towers and wings were connected by narrow red bridges. The central part, where the Rossi family lived, was distinguished from the other wings by the golden runes decorating its entire facade, protecting the Rossi from enemies. But to Derek and his army, these runes posed no threat and were useless to their lord: their magic, like that of the demons, had been lost.
"I should have told the horned Queen Varma that she would be warming my bed tonight," Derek grinned gloatingly. – But they say she's many years old, and she's only skillfully hiding her old age with magic… Now that magic doesn't work for her, I think I'll see an old woman instead of her tonight, and a gray-haired grandfather instead of golden-haired Lamar. I wonder how old their daughter is? She looks young indeed. She's beautiful, but, damn, her red eyes ruin the whole impression, and it's disgusting to take her to bed. It's a good thing she didn't inherit twisted horns like her mother… But I need rest: it's fun to swing a sword left and right, but even I need at least an hour of peace and quiet.
And, with the intention of finding himself a small cozy room and drinking a goblet of wine, Derek Merkswerd also headed for the palace. But then Gerd – a warrior, master of several falcons, in charge of the correspondence between the king and the magician Andrada – was beside him.
– Your Majesty, my faithful Kit has brought you a letter," Gerd bowed to the king and handed him a small, tightly rolled sheet of yellow parchment, sealed with a blue seal bearing the image of a fox – Andrada's surname.
– Thank you," the king said briefly, and immediately broke the seal and ran a quick glance over his magician's beautiful manuscript.
Neither he nor Andrada had any fear that their letters would fall into the hands of their enemies and be used against them, because both of them wrote in a secret script, familiar only to the two of them. Derek's eyes slowly narrowed as he read the magician's short message.
– Gerd! Find me Bergil! – he quietly ordered the master of the falcons, and the latter, silently bowing, hurried inside the palace.
"God's grace that these demons cannot now read my thoughts! Otherwise, they would have triumphed… Something must be done, today. I will not hesitate and hope for a miracle," Derek thought to himself and tore the message into small pieces and swallowed it, drinking a sip of water from the flask tied to his belt.
Quickly entering the palace, Derek met Bergil walking back to the square and locked himself with him in one of the farthest wings.
– Keep your voice down," the king warned his friend as he closed the elegant but thin golden door behind him.
– Understood. – Bergil stepped up to Derek and fixed an expectant gaze on his face.
– Worse news than I was prepared for," he said quietly.
– What kind of news?
– Andrada wrote that we must destroy Flammehav and not accept peace if it is offered. But I've already given Lamar my word, and I can't go back on it. – Derek put his palm to his eyes tiredly. – The devil! Why have I been in such a hurry?
– Hey, hey, Your Majesty! Can I get you some wine to lift your spirits? – Bergil asked him kindly.