Nowaru

“Call me Tantred, Hanelion, and welcome to my home. Comrade Ramola is my comrade.” The blue-eyed man nodded to Ramola, who was already busy with something, and then gestured to Raymond to sit on one of the sofas. “Please, have a seat, and help yourself: Darnian wine, exotic snacks – choose whatever you like.” “And yet, I am disappointed with this turn of events,” the Assyrian woman said as the dark-haired man kissed her neck and shoulders. “I didn’t expect this degenerate to win the tournament, but I didn’t even think he would be eliminated in the first round.” “Who was he, may I ask?” Ramola inquired, engrossed in choosing what to eat. “A legionary, my lover. He sang me songs of love, about how he wanted to be with me forever…” “And did you grant him eternity?” the Taoist smiled approvingly. “An interesting idea.” “Indeed, what could be more interesting than experimenting on people?” the dark-haired man commented sarcastically. “And you’re right, I don’t remember you ever complaining, quite the contrary, you always came back wagging your tail and asking for more.” “Well, well,” the red-haired woman, as before, sat without any visible emotions on her face; it couldn’t be said that she disliked the company, rather, it was just the way she always was. “Experiments on stamina using additional equipment like high-heeled shoes, whips, and other interesting things?” “I suggest we change the subject,” the bald man interrupted the lively conversation, suggesting they discuss the latest events in the city. “Well, for example, the other day, a young man who bought paintings from me died,” the owner of the house tried to pick up the new topic. “Actually, he bought an entire collection from me, spending almost all the money he inherited from his parents.” “Well, now it’s clear how you got so rich,” the bald man said with a sly smile. “By the way, about wealth, Erald died the other day. The dark-haired man paused to take a sip of wine and then continued. “Or rather, he burned to death along with all his servants in his own house.” “Isn’t he your relative?” the Taoist inquired. “Cousin. Older. Karma is a cruel thing.” “Why is that?” “Well, let’s look. There’s Erald, who spends all his money for the well-being of others, leaving himself only the necessary funds for a comfortable life. And there’s Raimar, me, who has drowned more people in blood than I can remember… and I’m alive and well.”