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- I understand him, but rather than worrying so much, he could have just let them go free in all four directions. I suppose a successful businessman always has a certain risk-taking streak when looking at assets. As for you, - Lester places a huge palm on the squire's pauldron, completely covering it. - If you don't want to, don't tear yourself apart, no one is forcing you. But life is full of many things, Alseus Blugran of Blexol: suffering, trials, and triumphs. The early years are the hardest for everyone, but to everything else - it is long. You are young, not bad-looking, and it's far too early for you to give up on it. And the further you advance through it, the more memories blur. Live without a bright spot for a dozen years or two - a year or two or three of success, and you'll almost forget them. Right now you won't take my word for it, but in time you'll see for yourself. I don't know what your customs are, but in Kanamia, we don't break necks and bury them in the arena without cause. It's possible to climb out of any pit. I demand loyalty - serve me faithfully, and you will lack for nothing. That is my word, and my word is harder than tungsten, - a piercing gaze, with an otherworldly note unusual for him in his normal state, like a misericorde, bores into the interlocutor's pupils, awaiting an answer.
- My lord... Not long ago, Lord Sjöfnlofn, may he forgive me for revealing his wounds, went on an official visit to the Lady of Revnland, brought rich gifts, and took his family along. He is a commoner, moreover from a family with no past prestige, so for someone like him, our ruler, though an outcast among lords, was still a great opportunity to rise higher. As he put it, "to expand prospects toward an even more fruitful and brilliant future," or something like that? So, the negotiations were going well, but at some point he said something, I don't remember exactly what, something typical of a merchant, you know when masters of that craft try to squeeze an extra penny out of their interlocutor? Something like that. So Her Highness's expression changed immediately, as if winter had descended in the room. She said, "I see that the gleam of gold coins is a source of delight for your eye; so be it, I will pay you in plenty!", then she walked over, struck him in the eye with her heel - strange that she didn't knock it out - and added with an evil grin, "but the goods I buy will be at my discretion." Well then, your colleague, the Knight of Unbridled Violence, immobilized him and, holding him by the hair, forced him to watch as the castle guards did their thing with his wife and daughter, and in the end she paid him one gold coin for each person who participated in that outrage. And then they were simply released. Do you understand, my lord? There are things in this world against which a man is powerless. If this is the price of love, then I do not wish to experience it. Remembering their relationship, I don't even know how he holds himself together, still managing to participate in this celebration somehow. I couldn't do that - I'd probably just jump off the nearest tower. But be that as it may, I will approach my service seriously, at least you can be sure of that.
Having listened to this unpleasant story with a stone face, Vargas replies: - Once I caught a thief red-handed, a boy about fifteen years old, maybe sixteen - he looked underfed and sickly. He reached into the pocket of a distracted shopkeeper who was busy with inventory, but didn't manage to pull it off. The punishment for that here is not light, but I didn't make a scene, I led him away from sight and questioned him. He was trembling a lot, begging for forgiveness, and when he recognized me, he burst into tears. He thought it was the end for him, told me about his sick little sister, and that they were orphans. Do you think I believed him? Of course not, anyone in his place would make up any story just to get off the hook. Lead on, I said, show her to me. And he led me - to a decent but dilapidated house, practically no furniture inside, nothing, it had clearly seen better days. And there she really was, lying unconscious, covered in sweat, breathing heavily and hoarsely. A depressing sight, I'm no doctor, but anyone could see her days were numbered. I wanted to recommend a good doctor, would have even shelled out the money, so he could at least help her spend her remaining time in peace. But the boy refused, said he wanted to swipe something to buy lilies of the valley, that it was their mother's favorite flower, she used to weave wreaths from them. Can you imagine? Lilies of the valley! He didn't even know no one sells them. And I had scoured the whole area, told him the place where they grow - outside the walls, in a small forest. And his tired little eyes lit up. I let him go in the end. He ran for the lilies of the valley, and I followed him - just in case, the area was already a bit wild. How he pushed through the branches, scratching himself, falling and cutting himself, barely keeping his balance, but he kept going, gritting his teeth. He wandered around and finally reached the spot, and there the lilies of the valley had grown thick, almost knee-deep - lie down on that featherbed and you'd disappear from sight. And he started picking them, had already gathered an armful, when there was a growl. A wolf, a lone one, which was unusual, also emaciated, but clearly angry. The kid froze as soon as he saw the animal. I was hiding behind a birch sapling, got into a stance - hand on my weapon, ready to jump out. But the boy came to his senses, dropped the flowers, grabbed a stick. He was shaking all over, tears in his eyes, but he stood his ground. That behavior surprised me then, many in his situation would have run, so I decided to wait and see. The beast circled back and forth, then jumped, aiming for the throat as usual. They fell, and the kid shoved the stick into its mouth, so neither could really bite down nor do anything. I drew my weapon, straightened up, and the boy reached around with his free hand, found a rock, and smacked it on the skull - once, twice, three times. The wolf yelped and ran off. Halfway, it stopped, looked back, and the kid stood against it - with a rock and a stick, like a veritable Knight of the Onslaught. He drove it off in the end, gathered an armful, and headed out. It did manage to bite him once in that scuffle, but not badly. When he got home, I peeked through the window - his sister had caught a glimpse of him, was conscious. And when she saw him, battered, with a broken armful of lilies of the valley, stained with blood, which he laid out on her bed, barely standing, she burst into tears. She hugged him, whispered something. The mission was accomplished, and I left, leaving them that moment. But you know what? Much later, I saw her again - delivering orders at a summer café. Brisk as can be, no paleness, darting around like the wind. I asked the neighbors, it turns out she recovered, and without any medicine. Apparently, the sight of her brother, her last close relative, nearly perished, struck her so deeply that she found the strength within herself and overcame the illness, - squinting, Lester gazed at Aconia approaching sunset. - It's up to you to decide what to think about life, what to hope for or the opposite. But for every insurmountable thing, there is also its own miracle.
Happy Life
