The Mist and the Lightning. Part 18
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“No, he’s pretty cute,” Kors remarked, finally returning to discussing Valentine. “Chester was far from ugly, and that little slave must have been pretty too. Pleasant appearance. Only you, Arel, don’t know how to handle your slaves. Valentine is dressed too expensively, you allow him to have long hair, you don’t really limit anything, you don’t follow him. He walks where he wants, does what he wants…”
“He never leaves our cart,” Arel objected.
“Are you sure about that? Have you seen how well-bred slaves behave in my house? The cook is in the kitchen, the groom is in the stable. And the slave in the entertainment room. Everyone is in his place and does not hang around anywhere.”
“Yes. All are distributed as in the cells in a prison.”
“Arel!”
And Kors already out of habit, not at all restraining himself, just as he spanked Nik, gave Arel a box on the ear; and he, like Nik, only shrank slightly and swallowed it without answering.
“You need to put a chastity belt on him. Otherwise, he will make children and continue the spoiled family.”
“Who needs him!”
“Are you kidding? His expensive clothes, long hair and tall stature will perfectly attract peasants and slaves, this is quite enough for them. Valentine, can you hear thoughts?” Suddenly asked Kors, abruptly changing the subject from an unexpected guess.
And Valentine trembled again and timidly answered:
“Yes, sir. Quite a bit, only sir Arel’s, sir Nik’s and sir Verniy’s.”
Kors shook his head.
“Yeah… Arel, and all your fault is your carelessness and stupidity! Gods, what am I to do with you all? How to fix this mess?”
“Put it back on,” Arel ordered Valentin, nodding at the helmet, and the boy immediately began to pull it over his disheveled head, slipping a hard leather collar under the collar. He couldn’t himself tighten the lacing on the back of his head, and Arel helped him and closed the back with a lock again.
Kors watched as Valentine himself put on a slavish attribute, as it seemed to Kors, he did it even with some kind of joy or relief he humbly bowed his head when Arel laced him up.
“But his character is not at all the same as that of Chester,” remarked Kors, “or is it you, Arel, who knocked all the crap out of him?”
“Valentine, get out, get out!” Arel ordered, and Valentine rushed to the exit.
“We should have sent him to Verniy to at least wash his face, he’s grimy as a pig,” said Kors.
Arel didn’t answer, he was clearly tired of being busy with a slave. He held out his hand to Kors.
“Go here.”
Kors responded, and Arel threw him onto his skins, holding him to himself.
“Arel, do you love me?”
“Yes,” Arel whispered, leaning on Kors with his whole body and pulling off his pants.
Chapter 5
“Why have you got drunk? I let you go play your fucking cards! I gave you permission! I fulfilled your wish, because I know how much you love it! And you got drunk!”
Kors shouted at his Nik, who returned to their tent in the morning and was pretty drunk.
“All clear! Dull silence! A ram’s look!”
Kors kicked in annoyance at their camp bed, on which Nik was sitting, and Nik quickly moved aside.
“I drank quite a little…”
“Have you seen yourself from the side?”
“Forgive me…”
“Yes, for you to say “I'm sorry” is as easy as to go have a piss!”
“You said one can’t say that … express himself in this way.”
“Why have you got drunk again? I don’t understand, explain to me!”
Nik thought for a while:
“Because it’s… it’s very pleasant.”
“Pleasant?! Is it pleasant to drink and hang around with all sorts of obscure personalities?”
“Personalities?”
“With all sorts of garbage!”
“It’s fun…”
Kors literally gasped with indignation:
“Fun?! Well, for goodness’ sake! I have no words! Your drunken friends will break your head sooner or later! Mador will split your stupid head, this will be also fun!”
“No.”
“Yes! This is usually the end of such adventures, believe me, I know. And you choose your friends the right way – only crap!”
Nik slid off the trestle bed and knelt in front of his father, bending down to him and kissing his boots. He knew that Kors really liked this demonstration of humility and obedience: at the very beginning of their relationship, Kors forced Nik to do it, angering and humiliating him, but now, as time passed, he taught his son to such an expression of love and gratitude. Nik was used to this and often, without orders, crawled at Kors’ feet, licking his boots like a faithful dog. Kors was always happy to let him do it, but now he brutally threw him away.
Having slightly lost his balance (both from Kors’ kick and from the fact that he was very drunk), Nik fell on his side, but quickly pulled himself together and sat down. He didn’t rise from his knees and was silent, allowing his father to scold him. No matter how hard he tried, Kors didn’t feel a stream of suffering or any kind of experience from Nik. Deciding that it was alcohol to blame, which blocked his son’s consciousness and prevented him from being sad and fully feeling the burden of guilt, Kors stopped scolding him:
“Put on the mask! I can’t see your drunken face! Oh, demonic nature, why should I be so punished – to have such a son!”
Nik, upset, but obediently reached for his mask and put it on. He finally got up from his knees and lay down on their trestle bed on his side, facing the wall, clearly trying not to “stick out like a sore thumb” and not provoke Kors. Frustrated, Kors left him alone and lay down on the skins next to him, defiantly embracing Arel.
They slept almost all day and only woke up in the evening.