He didn't know the name of that girl he had just saved from the freezing waters. He had taken her to his humble home and had lit a fire for her. He checked her heartbeat rate several times and closed the windows to keep out the cold. He was a Kalekyan, he was used to the harsh temperatures of the north; however, he thought that she, resembling a Drakalian, didn't have the same resistance and so, in addition to closing the windows, he ensured that there were no drafts. After doing so, he focused on her—on who she was. He wasn't used to bringing strangers into his home, especially not Drakalians. A voice in his head suggested to take her to his superior officers, but he wanted to be one hundred percent sure he was dealing with an agent of the Empire and not a common civilian. He knew it wouldn't be easy to discover the truth, in that situation, but he wanted to try anyway. He studied her to try to figure out who she was: her blonde hair was a common trait of the Drakalians; short hair and a little messy—which was unusual. She was wearing torn jeans, a white collared shirt, a black leather jacket and a black tie. He was perfectly familiar with the military uniform used by the Empire, and the clothes she wore were completely different.
She's not a soldier. Is she a spy?
He knew that the Drakalians had strange technologies and, above all, spies were known for their gadgets and lethal weapons that were always well hidden. The girl had a black hair clip on her left and he gently took it off her and took a look at it.
Nothing.
He put the hair clip back on her with the same kindness, a little embarrassed for having assumed that that could be a dangerous gadget. He reached into her various jacket pockets, searching for weapons or badges.
Nothing.
He tried to put his hand in the pocket of her pants, but they were so tight that his large hand couldn't even fit.
In the ankles... maybe?
He inspected to make sure she had no knives, guns or poisons.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She seemed like a normal girl, but he didn't trust her. He couldn't trust a stranger so similar to a Drakalian. There was a limit to what he could do in that situation. The voice telling him to take her to the proper authorities grew louder, but he still hesitated. He knew he was taking a risk, but he didn't want to put an innocent person in danger. He looked out the window, the sky suggested that a snowstorm was coming, and so he closed the door and sealed the windows tightly.
She's not a soldier. Is she a spy?
He knew that the Drakalians had strange technologies and, above all, spies were known for their gadgets and lethal weapons that were always well hidden. The girl had a black hair clip on her left and he gently took it off her and took a look at it.
Nothing.
He put the hair clip back on her with the same kindness, a little embarrassed for having assumed that that could be a dangerous gadget. He reached into her various jacket pockets, searching for weapons or badges.
Nothing.
He tried to put his hand in the pocket of her pants, but they were so tight that his large hand couldn't even fit.
In the ankles... maybe?
He inspected to make sure she had no knives, guns or poisons.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She seemed like a normal girl, but he didn't trust her. He couldn't trust a stranger so similar to a Drakalian. There was a limit to what he could do in that situation. The voice telling him to take her to the proper authorities grew louder, but he still hesitated. He knew he was taking a risk, but he didn't want to put an innocent person in danger. He looked out the window, the sky suggested that a snowstorm was coming, and so he closed the door and sealed the windows tightly.
With the storm I wouldn't be able to get her far from here anyway. I'll have to keep her here at least until tomorrow and then... And then... Well...
He wasn't used to having guests at his house, but he had enough food to feed both him and her.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she didn't make a sound. She had no idea where she was, but began to look around carefully to study the place: the house was made of wood and stone, it was small and spartan. It was a typical mountain home with literally the bare minimum. The bed she was on was made of wood and the blankets were handmade from animal fur. She stood up slowly. She carefully left the bedroom and saw that there were just three rooms beyond that: the kitchen, a small foyer, and a bathroom. Nothing else. Around the house there were work tools, boxes full of fruit and vegetables, firewood and some old rifles hanging on the wall. There were no photographs, but there were wooden vases containing different species of flowers.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she didn't make a sound. She had no idea where she was, but began to look around carefully to study the place: the house was made of wood and stone, it was small and spartan. It was a typical mountain home with literally the bare minimum. The bed she was on was made of wood and the blankets were handmade from animal fur. She stood up slowly. She carefully left the bedroom and saw that there were just three rooms beyond that: the kitchen, a small foyer, and a bathroom. Nothing else. Around the house there were work tools, boxes full of fruit and vegetables, firewood and some old rifles hanging on the wall. There were no photographs, but there were wooden vases containing different species of flowers.
A smell of vegetable soup caught her nose and she peeked into the kitchen; when she saw that young man, in military uniform, cooking she was amazed—but she had to walk away. The heat in the kitchen plus the one in the whole house was suffocating.
Why did he light a fire? I thought Kalekyans didn't suffer from the cold!
She felt like she was in a sauna and she quickly took off her leather jacket; she threw it without even looking and knocked over a vase.
The boy immediately left the kitchen and, when he saw that the mysterious guest was standing and sweating as if she had a fever, he began to worry:
"Are you okay?"
Why did he light a fire? I thought Kalekyans didn't suffer from the cold!
She felt like she was in a sauna and she quickly took off her leather jacket; she threw it without even looking and knocked over a vase.
The boy immediately left the kitchen and, when he saw that the mysterious guest was standing and sweating as if she had a fever, he began to worry:
"Are you okay?"
She shook her head. "I need you to put out that damn fire."
"Huh?! Are you crazy?! You'll freeze to death if I do that!"
"Huh?! Are you crazy?! You'll freeze to death if I do that!"
"Then open a window!"
"No chance. There will be a snowstorm soon and the temperature will drop dramatically—"
"When it'll come?"
"Well, I think tonight—"
"Good." She opened a window and stood underneath it. "Much better!" she exclaimed with a satisfied expression. "See? It wasn't that hard, right?"
"When it'll come?"
"Well, I think tonight—"
"Good." She opened a window and stood underneath it. "Much better!" she exclaimed with a satisfied expression. "See? It wasn't that hard, right?"
"Are you sure you're okay? I mean... it's pretty cold outside, and—"
"Don't play the lovely dad with me, 'kay? I know what I'm doing," she said, waving her hand at him to leave.
"I... um... I'm going back to the kitchen," he muttered in confusion.
"I... um... I'm going back to the kitchen," he muttered in confusion.
She watched him leave and then relaxed under the fresh air.
An interesting guy, indeed.
It was that thought that began to capture her head. This stranger had short black hair, beautiful emerald eyes—just like her—and had a face that was pleasing to the eye. He had broad shoulders and the hands of a mountain man. His military uniform was green with red trim, this meant that he didn't work for the Empire but for the United Tribes.
The United Tribes were a nation that formed in 1427 IC, when the Drakalian Empire began invading the frozen lands of the north. This nation, which was in fact a confederation made up of many tribes, wanted to preserve the ancient traditions, repel the invaders, free the Kalekyans conquered by the Empire and overthrow the various aristocracies that had been created over the course of three hundred years. Not everyone agreed with these 'extremists'.
It was a truly complex reality.
An interesting guy, indeed.
It was that thought that began to capture her head. This stranger had short black hair, beautiful emerald eyes—just like her—and had a face that was pleasing to the eye. He had broad shoulders and the hands of a mountain man. His military uniform was green with red trim, this meant that he didn't work for the Empire but for the United Tribes.
The United Tribes were a nation that formed in 1427 IC, when the Drakalian Empire began invading the frozen lands of the north. This nation, which was in fact a confederation made up of many tribes, wanted to preserve the ancient traditions, repel the invaders, free the Kalekyans conquered by the Empire and overthrow the various aristocracies that had been created over the course of three hundred years. Not everyone agreed with these 'extremists'.
It was a truly complex reality.
The Aisenevian Principality was formed when around twenty Kalekyan tribes agreed to ally themselves with the Drakalian Empire. In 1684 IC, the emperor chose a prince and gave him the task of dominating and representing these tribes. The imperial State called it 'privilege' and in Drakalian intellectual circles the potentates were praised for their compassionate attitude towards the 'barbaric' people of the north. But the emperor and the nobles had no respect for these people. They wanted to kill their culture. Other tribes had suffered the same fate of the Aisenevian Principality. Duchies were born. Dukes, chosen from among the most loyal and servile Kalekyans, were chosen to represent and above all to tame the tribes under their authority. Many Kalekyans had to deal with what was, in effect, colonization by the Drakalian Empire.
The United Tribes fought against all that.
"Lunch is ready," the soldier said, placing the plates.
Elizabeth sat down at the table. He handed her the spoon and when she put the soup in her mouth, her palate was hit by the flavor of tomato, pumpkin, then by that of lentils and beans; black pepper and rosemary served as seasoning.
"Do you like it?" he asked coldly.
She nodded.
"Good. You'll have to get used to it for the short time you'll be here."
"Are you already thinking of sending me away?"
"Why shouldn't I? I don't know you—"
"Same. But that's not a problem for me."
He narrowed his eyes. "Mm... I see..." He didn't trust her. In his eyes that stranger was one of the 'bad guys'.
She understood his feelings, read them in his eyes. That distrust was justifiable. Many Kalekyans had suffered at the hands of the Empire.
"You have no reason to stay here, that's all I wanted to say. And I bet you have someone looking for you. Perhaps a duke or even a viscount—"
"Viscounts no longer exist though," she corrected.
He glared at her. "That's not the point. This is not your place, Drakalian. The fact that I saved your life means nothing."
She was genuinely surprised. For a Kalekyan of the United Tribes to show mercy to a Drakalian was truly unusual. Of all the things she had expected to hear, that was the most shocking.
The United Tribes fought against all that.
"Lunch is ready," the soldier said, placing the plates.
Elizabeth sat down at the table. He handed her the spoon and when she put the soup in her mouth, her palate was hit by the flavor of tomato, pumpkin, then by that of lentils and beans; black pepper and rosemary served as seasoning.
"Do you like it?" he asked coldly.
She nodded.
"Good. You'll have to get used to it for the short time you'll be here."
"Are you already thinking of sending me away?"
"Why shouldn't I? I don't know you—"
"Same. But that's not a problem for me."
He narrowed his eyes. "Mm... I see..." He didn't trust her. In his eyes that stranger was one of the 'bad guys'.
She understood his feelings, read them in his eyes. That distrust was justifiable. Many Kalekyans had suffered at the hands of the Empire.
"You have no reason to stay here, that's all I wanted to say. And I bet you have someone looking for you. Perhaps a duke or even a viscount—"
"Viscounts no longer exist though," she corrected.
He glared at her. "That's not the point. This is not your place, Drakalian. The fact that I saved your life means nothing."
She was genuinely surprised. For a Kalekyan of the United Tribes to show mercy to a Drakalian was truly unusual. Of all the things she had expected to hear, that was the most shocking.
"Stop looking at me like that," he said, blushing. "I just wanted to be nice! That's all! Don't get any weird ideas, okay? You and I are enemies."
She put down the spoon and held out her hand. "Elizabeth."
"Huh...?" He raised his eyebrows.
"My name is Elizabeth."
"I'm... Gavriil." He shook her hand a little hesitantly.
"I don't believe it," she commented, smiling.
"Huh? What do you mean you don't believe it? It's my name!"
"Is your name just 'Gavriil'? That's it?"
"What does 'just Gavriil' mean?! It's my name! I'm Gavriil!"
"Oh, c'mon! You Kalekyans are known for your loooong names!"
"Wait—do you want the patronymic too?! Forget it!"
"Then I won't let go of your hand," she exclaimed, remaining faithful to that playful smile of hers.
"You're acting like a brat! Seriously! Let go of me!" He began to move his arm.
She shook her head and stuck her tongue out at him.
She put down the spoon and held out her hand. "Elizabeth."
"Huh...?" He raised his eyebrows.
"My name is Elizabeth."
"I'm... Gavriil." He shook her hand a little hesitantly.
"I don't believe it," she commented, smiling.
"Huh? What do you mean you don't believe it? It's my name!"
"Is your name just 'Gavriil'? That's it?"
"What does 'just Gavriil' mean?! It's my name! I'm Gavriil!"
"Oh, c'mon! You Kalekyans are known for your loooong names!"
"Wait—do you want the patronymic too?! Forget it!"
"Then I won't let go of your hand," she exclaimed, remaining faithful to that playful smile of hers.
"You're acting like a brat! Seriously! Let go of me!" He began to move his arm.
She shook her head and stuck her tongue out at him.
"You little—! Do you want to make me angry or what? Look, I'll leave you to die in the cold if I have to!"
"Or! You could just tell me your full name.What's going on?" She moved a little closer to him. "Embarrassed?"
"Tch!" He sighed. "Alright then! I'm Gavriil Fyodorovich Korsakov!"
"See? It wasn't that difficult!"
He didn't let go of her hand.
"Wha—?" Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Now it's your turn. You Drakalians have longer names too. Tell me yours!" He was red like a bell pepper.
"I think I'm going to disappoint you a little."
"Why?"
"My full name is Elizabeth Regimia Laberius."
"Tch!" He sighed. "Alright then! I'm Gavriil Fyodorovich Korsakov!"
"See? It wasn't that difficult!"
He didn't let go of her hand.
"Wha—?" Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Now it's your turn. You Drakalians have longer names too. Tell me yours!" He was red like a bell pepper.
"I think I'm going to disappoint you a little."
"Why?"
"My full name is Elizabeth Regimia Laberius."
He dropped her hand, shocked. "You're... not a Drakalian..."
"I am... and I'm not. I'm a 'mixed blood'. My mother was a Drakalian and my father a Tiberian. I was born and raised in the Empire, but I'm not part of those aristocracies that you hate. You can rest assured that there's no one waiting for me. In fact, I think I'm more like you."
"Ah! Please! Do you think this is enough to make you different from the enemy?"
"So you still believe that I'm your enemy? Why? And what will you tell me next? That all Drakalians are evil?"
"Yes," he replied immediately.
"I see, know... I thought the United Tribes wanted to be different from the Empire—"
"We are."
"With such a closed mind? No, I don't think so. Giving a certain people a certain moral attribute is typical of the Drakalians. If you also start doing the same things you'll cancel out any difference between your cause and theirs—"
"It's not the same thing!" he stated, slamming his hands on the table.
"C'mon, don't be so aggressive... I just wanted to talk—"
"No!" He left the table. "Stop doing that! Stop acting like we're two acquaintances talking to each other in a friendly way! Stop acting like this is all a game! We're not friends! We're not! And this isn't a fucking game! Your presence here is a problem! And you know what? It doesn't have to be my problem! Tomorrow you'll leave! End of the story! And never come back here! Never again!"
"I am... and I'm not. I'm a 'mixed blood'. My mother was a Drakalian and my father a Tiberian. I was born and raised in the Empire, but I'm not part of those aristocracies that you hate. You can rest assured that there's no one waiting for me. In fact, I think I'm more like you."
"Ah! Please! Do you think this is enough to make you different from the enemy?"
"So you still believe that I'm your enemy? Why? And what will you tell me next? That all Drakalians are evil?"
"Yes," he replied immediately.
"I see, know... I thought the United Tribes wanted to be different from the Empire—"
"We are."
"With such a closed mind? No, I don't think so. Giving a certain people a certain moral attribute is typical of the Drakalians. If you also start doing the same things you'll cancel out any difference between your cause and theirs—"
"It's not the same thing!" he stated, slamming his hands on the table.
"C'mon, don't be so aggressive... I just wanted to talk—"
"No!" He left the table. "Stop doing that! Stop acting like we're two acquaintances talking to each other in a friendly way! Stop acting like this is all a game! We're not friends! We're not! And this isn't a fucking game! Your presence here is a problem! And you know what? It doesn't have to be my problem! Tomorrow you'll leave! End of the story! And never come back here! Never again!"
"Listen, I'm sorry—"
He raised his hand. He didn't want to hear her talk anymore. "Never. Again." He wasn't joking. "Finish your lunch, I'll go out for a walk."
Gavriil immediately left the house, slamming the door furiously. She was left speechless and lost her hunger.
Klyugin was a small village of a few thousand inhabitants. It stood on the banks of the Ipatiev River. The waters flowed into the cold Lake Chmil. The town was surrounded by thick white forest and the landscape was defined by the pale and long Svarov mountain chain. Gavriil loved that place. He loved it as if it were a woman. Every time he felt bad he would sit on the shore of the lake, he would remain silent and let himself be enraptured by the beauty of nature. His heart always beat fast when he admired that work of art that was the wild and immaculate forests; he almost stopped breathing when his eyes were lost in the mountains; his mouth was incapable of uttering any sound as the rushing streams rang in his ears.
That was heaven. His paradise.
And it was right on the shore of Lake Chmil that he had left the reason for his battle, the reason why he always wore the uniform. A stone stele, two meters high, looked towards the clear surface of the water. Between two trees, near the mouth of the river, the stele represented the only art he would ever be able to produce. On it had been engraved the names of thirty-two people, their dates of birth and death; at the bottom there was a prayer. They were friends, relatives, parents; they were home; they were what the Empire had taken from him.
He prayed silently for them; that was the only way he knew to keep alive the memory of their faces, their voices, their affection. Only in that moment of solitude did he allow himself to cry.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
The sound of an engine broke that silence. He turned and saw, in the distance, an Aisenevian military police speedboat. The only misfortune of living in Klyugin was that the people had to share the beautiful lake with the Empire's guard dog. He immediately hid and, cautiously, carefully observed the movements of the enemies.
What are they doing? Should I inform the headquarters?
Gavriil immediately left the house, slamming the door furiously. She was left speechless and lost her hunger.
Klyugin was a small village of a few thousand inhabitants. It stood on the banks of the Ipatiev River. The waters flowed into the cold Lake Chmil. The town was surrounded by thick white forest and the landscape was defined by the pale and long Svarov mountain chain. Gavriil loved that place. He loved it as if it were a woman. Every time he felt bad he would sit on the shore of the lake, he would remain silent and let himself be enraptured by the beauty of nature. His heart always beat fast when he admired that work of art that was the wild and immaculate forests; he almost stopped breathing when his eyes were lost in the mountains; his mouth was incapable of uttering any sound as the rushing streams rang in his ears.
That was heaven. His paradise.
And it was right on the shore of Lake Chmil that he had left the reason for his battle, the reason why he always wore the uniform. A stone stele, two meters high, looked towards the clear surface of the water. Between two trees, near the mouth of the river, the stele represented the only art he would ever be able to produce. On it had been engraved the names of thirty-two people, their dates of birth and death; at the bottom there was a prayer. They were friends, relatives, parents; they were home; they were what the Empire had taken from him.
He prayed silently for them; that was the only way he knew to keep alive the memory of their faces, their voices, their affection. Only in that moment of solitude did he allow himself to cry.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
The sound of an engine broke that silence. He turned and saw, in the distance, an Aisenevian military police speedboat. The only misfortune of living in Klyugin was that the people had to share the beautiful lake with the Empire's guard dog. He immediately hid and, cautiously, carefully observed the movements of the enemies.
What are they doing? Should I inform the headquarters?
They were looking for something in the water and inspected the banks with binoculars. After a few minutes they moved away and Gavriil returned to the village.
"Everything okay, Gavriil?" asked an elderly woman who was bringing her dog back into the house. "You seem a little nervous. Is there something wrong?"
"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Pepova. Instead, be careful: the weather doesn't look good. There'll be a bad storm tonight."
"I see it, I see it. The sky roars." The dog slipped out of her hand and showed all its affection to the young soldier. "Oh, Stanimir! I'm so sorry!"
"No, everything's fine!" He began to pet the dog. He rubbed its fur and accepted all the kisses in the face. "I love this guy. Good boy. Well done, you're good boy."
He didn't know he was being watched.
Elizabeth, from the window of the house, looked with curiosity at the young man. In addition to being charming, he also had the attitude of a 'friend of the people'. Everyone knew him, everyone respected him and everyone loved him. It wasn't just the uniform that evoked those feelings in the people, that was obvious. They knew him very well, they treated him like a son and like a guardian. And then she thought about how he had behaved towards her. He had been rough, but he wasn't a bad person. She just had to look at how he behaved with the people of the village to understand his heart; he was pure.
Maybe he should know of my job.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a great idea.
Someone like him could help me.
And as she thought about it, she realized that the magical energy was regenerating very quickly. This was good, but also bad. Her body became hotter and hotter and it would soon become impossible for her to stay in that house, perpetually heated by the fire.
"Everything okay, Gavriil?" asked an elderly woman who was bringing her dog back into the house. "You seem a little nervous. Is there something wrong?"
"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Pepova. Instead, be careful: the weather doesn't look good. There'll be a bad storm tonight."
"I see it, I see it. The sky roars." The dog slipped out of her hand and showed all its affection to the young soldier. "Oh, Stanimir! I'm so sorry!"
"No, everything's fine!" He began to pet the dog. He rubbed its fur and accepted all the kisses in the face. "I love this guy. Good boy. Well done, you're good boy."
He didn't know he was being watched.
Elizabeth, from the window of the house, looked with curiosity at the young man. In addition to being charming, he also had the attitude of a 'friend of the people'. Everyone knew him, everyone respected him and everyone loved him. It wasn't just the uniform that evoked those feelings in the people, that was obvious. They knew him very well, they treated him like a son and like a guardian. And then she thought about how he had behaved towards her. He had been rough, but he wasn't a bad person. She just had to look at how he behaved with the people of the village to understand his heart; he was pure.
Maybe he should know of my job.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a great idea.
Someone like him could help me.
And as she thought about it, she realized that the magical energy was regenerating very quickly. This was good, but also bad. Her body became hotter and hotter and it would soon become impossible for her to stay in that house, perpetually heated by the fire.
When Gavriil returned home he immediately realized that the flame in the fireplace had been put out.
Fucking brat.
He sighed and prepared wood to heat the house again, but Elizabeth stopped him immediately.
"What do you plan to do with that?"
"What do you think, genius? You'll freeze to death if I don't make a damn fire—"
"I don't need you to heat the house and, if you do, I risk suffocating. My body heat will be enough to keep me warm."
He looked at her with disbelieving eyes. "Are you serious? Do you realize that the temperature can drop dramatically here?"
"I'm serious," she exclaimed. "I know what I'm doing. Don't light that fire, 'kay? Good."
"You know what? You do you! But I won't be responsible for what happens! It's your problem, not mine!"
Night fell and the storm came. Violently it began to bang against the wooden walls and against the windows. The wind howled. Sometimes one could hear the sound of something breaking and being tossed left and right by the air. And while Elizabeth was afraid that the entire house would collapse on her, Gavriil sat quietly peeling potatoes. The entire building was lit by several candles and that atmosphere was the only thing that gave the girl some peace.
"Are you making dinner?" she asked, sitting next to him.
"Roast potatoes."
"Can you cook those too?"
He looked at her as if she had asked a stupid question. "It's not a complicated dish. My mom taught me how to prepare them quickly."
"Without an oven?"
"I don't need an oven."
Fucking brat.
He sighed and prepared wood to heat the house again, but Elizabeth stopped him immediately.
"What do you plan to do with that?"
"What do you think, genius? You'll freeze to death if I don't make a damn fire—"
"I don't need you to heat the house and, if you do, I risk suffocating. My body heat will be enough to keep me warm."
He looked at her with disbelieving eyes. "Are you serious? Do you realize that the temperature can drop dramatically here?"
"I'm serious," she exclaimed. "I know what I'm doing. Don't light that fire, 'kay? Good."
"You know what? You do you! But I won't be responsible for what happens! It's your problem, not mine!"
Night fell and the storm came. Violently it began to bang against the wooden walls and against the windows. The wind howled. Sometimes one could hear the sound of something breaking and being tossed left and right by the air. And while Elizabeth was afraid that the entire house would collapse on her, Gavriil sat quietly peeling potatoes. The entire building was lit by several candles and that atmosphere was the only thing that gave the girl some peace.
"Are you making dinner?" she asked, sitting next to him.
"Roast potatoes."
"Can you cook those too?"
He looked at her as if she had asked a stupid question. "It's not a complicated dish. My mom taught me how to prepare them quickly."
"Without an oven?"
"I don't need an oven."
He got up and went to the cooking hob. To heat the shelf he used a small stove. He took a wooden plate and began to cut the two potatoes to form many small cubes. He put the potatoes on a metal pan and poured in some oil, a little water and then put salt on top. Finally he closed the pan with a lid.
"Now all we have to do is wait."
"Mm-mm." She undid her tie.
"Everything okay? You're sweating and it's... weird. I just lit a small stove, it shouldn't be that hot."
"No, it's not the stove. It's... my problem."
"You're sick?"
"Depends on who you ask," she replied, moving her hand to throw air at herself.
"That's the dumbest answer I've ever heard," he commented coldly. "You're acting like it's hot in here, but I'm sure the temperature is very low. It's definitely below zero." He thought for a moment. "Maybe falling into the freezing water didn't do you much good. Maybe you have some kind of fever or something like that. Do you want me to take some medicine for you? I have supplies—"
"That's not it. It's magical energy."
"Magical... energy...?” He narrowed his eyes. "You mean that stuff you guys use to do your witchcraft?"
She didn't even explain and went into the bedroom.
"Magical energy, of course," he murmured warily. "Tch! Excuses to annoy me." Or maybe there really is something wrong? But she didn't seem that hot when I brought her in here. What medicines do I have? If I remember correctly I have something for fever, cold, cough and...
Gavriil turned off the fire and removed the lid. The smell of roast potatoes caressed his nostrils and made his bad mood go away. He put them all on a plate and sat down at the table. He didn't touch the food.
"Now all we have to do is wait."
"Mm-mm." She undid her tie.
"Everything okay? You're sweating and it's... weird. I just lit a small stove, it shouldn't be that hot."
"No, it's not the stove. It's... my problem."
"You're sick?"
"Depends on who you ask," she replied, moving her hand to throw air at herself.
"That's the dumbest answer I've ever heard," he commented coldly. "You're acting like it's hot in here, but I'm sure the temperature is very low. It's definitely below zero." He thought for a moment. "Maybe falling into the freezing water didn't do you much good. Maybe you have some kind of fever or something like that. Do you want me to take some medicine for you? I have supplies—"
"That's not it. It's magical energy."
"Magical... energy...?” He narrowed his eyes. "You mean that stuff you guys use to do your witchcraft?"
She didn't even explain and went into the bedroom.
"Magical energy, of course," he murmured warily. "Tch! Excuses to annoy me." Or maybe there really is something wrong? But she didn't seem that hot when I brought her in here. What medicines do I have? If I remember correctly I have something for fever, cold, cough and...
Gavriil turned off the fire and removed the lid. The smell of roast potatoes caressed his nostrils and made his bad mood go away. He put them all on a plate and sat down at the table. He didn't touch the food.
Medicines for: fever, cold, cough, stomach ache and then I have bandages, creams, herbs and maybe even antibiotics. I need to know what's wrong with her and then—
Suddenly Elizabeth showed up with a look that left Gavriil speechless: the girl no longer had her tie, her trousers, her shoes, her socks—she had practically taken off everything. She only had her white shirt on, which with its length didn't even reach the knees. It was absurd. She was practically naked and he was left frozen. She sat at the table; she sat near him and smelled the dinner. With a sunny smile she exclaimed:
"Guten Appetit!" And she began to eat.
He was still speechless. He had no idea whether it would be better to ignore it or talk about it.
"Is something wrong, Gavriil?" she asked with wide eyes.
"I... You..." he got up to move away from her. "You... um..." he took a breath. "Are you... trying to seduce me to extract informations from me?"
"Is it working?" she asked with a feline smile.
"Maybe it's not that clear to you that I don't trust you. At all."
"I know. So?"
"So... what the f—hell do you think you're doing?"
"Hey, c'mon... If you want you can take off your uniform. I would have no problem seeing what you look like under those military clothes," she said winking.
"You fucking brat!"
"For your information, I'm twenty-two, not fourteen. I bet you're not that much older than me. Let me guess: twenty-four."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Haha! I won! And this is my reward!" She ate a few more roast potatoes.
"What game are you playing? I don't understand..."
"Do you really think this is all a game?"
"Look how you're dressed—!"
"Guten Appetit!" And she began to eat.
He was still speechless. He had no idea whether it would be better to ignore it or talk about it.
"Is something wrong, Gavriil?" she asked with wide eyes.
"I... You..." he got up to move away from her. "You... um..." he took a breath. "Are you... trying to seduce me to extract informations from me?"
"Is it working?" she asked with a feline smile.
"Maybe it's not that clear to you that I don't trust you. At all."
"I know. So?"
"So... what the f—hell do you think you're doing?"
"Hey, c'mon... If you want you can take off your uniform. I would have no problem seeing what you look like under those military clothes," she said winking.
"You fucking brat!"
"For your information, I'm twenty-two, not fourteen. I bet you're not that much older than me. Let me guess: twenty-four."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Haha! I won! And this is my reward!" She ate a few more roast potatoes.
"What game are you playing? I don't understand..."
"Do you really think this is all a game?"
"Look how you're dressed—!"
"I'm hot. Literally. I'm hot. I don't want to melt, 'kay? And then, what's the problem? Afraid of a little bare skin?"
"No! That's not the matter! It's—How can you be hot when there's literally a snowstorm outside?!"
"I already told you: it's my magical energy."
"No! That's not the matter! It's—How can you be hot when there's literally a snowstorm outside?!"
"I already told you: it's my magical energy."
"How?"
"Well... um... To start: all those who practice magic have magical energy, or spiritus, within them. The spiritus drains when magic is used and regenerates when not used. However, magic isn't the same for everyone. Each race has specific powers. Nervians are famous for telekinesis, Tiberians for the ability to fly, while Maranians are telepaths. Drakalians can create fire, ice, electricity and can manipulate various elements of nature. Next you have to understand that the amount of spiritus that we, the mages, possess depends on our potential. A five-year-old Drakalian, for example, will have less spiritus than a thirty-year-old, even if we assume that both are inexperienced. This is because a five-year-old child doesn't have a brain developed enough to remember many spells and to use all of them, and therefore their potential is lower. So: high potential equals high spiritus. I'm half-blood, but I have all the potential of both the Drakalians and the Tiberians. In fact, I could theoretically do all the magic of both races... and this means that I have a large amount of spiritus. More than a normal mage."
"So what?"
"Spiritus is energy. Energy is heat. The more energy I have inside me, the warmer I get. Don't believe me? Come."
"No, no. I believe you—"
She sighed and stood up to walk over to him. "Touch my forehead. Please."
He did. She was hot. Very hot. "Wow... Are you sure you're okay?"
She nodded. "See this black choker? It's to keep my spiritus under control."
"I see..." He thought for a moment. "So you can fly?"
"Yes." She sat down again and motioned him to sit next to her.
He did, mostly because he didn't want to leave the whole dinner to her. "Now I understand how you fell from the sky. And maybe you can help me understand something else..."
"So what?"
"Spiritus is energy. Energy is heat. The more energy I have inside me, the warmer I get. Don't believe me? Come."
"No, no. I believe you—"
She sighed and stood up to walk over to him. "Touch my forehead. Please."
He did. She was hot. Very hot. "Wow... Are you sure you're okay?"
She nodded. "See this black choker? It's to keep my spiritus under control."
"I see..." He thought for a moment. "So you can fly?"
"Yes." She sat down again and motioned him to sit next to her.
He did, mostly because he didn't want to leave the whole dinner to her. "Now I understand how you fell from the sky. And maybe you can help me understand something else..."
"What?"
"Why are the Aisenevian police looking for you?"
She was amazed by his intuition, but she immediately suspected there was something more going on. "How did you figure that out?"
"I saw them looking for something in the lake. They came closer than usual to the territory of the United Tribes, this has never happened before. Is it really a coincidence? I don't think so. In fact, I think you're involved. So, what's going on?"
"Well..." She took a long pause. "I tried to assassinate Prince Wilhelm Ostberger."
"The emperor's son?" He was shocked.
"Yup. But I failed and was caught. They wanted to send me to Komar Katorga, however I managed to escape and... that's why I'm here."
"Why did you try to kill him?"
"Because, believe it or not, there are Drakalians who are tired of obeying an emperor. I work for a group called the Syndicate. We want to put an end to the imperial family and start a revolution that will lead to the establishment of a democracy." She paused briefly. "Gavriil, I would like the United Tribes to help us fight this common enemy."
"I'm not the one making these decisions. If you really want this alliance, you'll have to talk to my superior."
"Cool. And where can I meet this superior?" she asked with a sunny smile.
Gavriil left for a moment to get a map. "Pletrey."
"It seems pretty far away," she noted.
"Why are the Aisenevian police looking for you?"
She was amazed by his intuition, but she immediately suspected there was something more going on. "How did you figure that out?"
"I saw them looking for something in the lake. They came closer than usual to the territory of the United Tribes, this has never happened before. Is it really a coincidence? I don't think so. In fact, I think you're involved. So, what's going on?"
"Well..." She took a long pause. "I tried to assassinate Prince Wilhelm Ostberger."
"The emperor's son?" He was shocked.
"Yup. But I failed and was caught. They wanted to send me to Komar Katorga, however I managed to escape and... that's why I'm here."
"Why did you try to kill him?"
"Because, believe it or not, there are Drakalians who are tired of obeying an emperor. I work for a group called the Syndicate. We want to put an end to the imperial family and start a revolution that will lead to the establishment of a democracy." She paused briefly. "Gavriil, I would like the United Tribes to help us fight this common enemy."
"I'm not the one making these decisions. If you really want this alliance, you'll have to talk to my superior."
"Cool. And where can I meet this superior?" she asked with a sunny smile.
Gavriil left for a moment to get a map. "Pletrey."
"It seems pretty far away," she noted.
"If we want to reach it alive we must avoid the main road, it's very easy to be attacked by the forces of the Udalovian Duchy; those bastards have been really annoying lately... especially in that area. It all started with some Udalovian miners who crossed that border, but... that's another story. It's not important."
"So what's our alternative?"
"From Klyugin we can take a dirt road that passes through the forest and reaches Hedeov. It will take at least two days to get there. Then, from Hedeov, we'll go to Pletrey."
"Two days?! Wha-What if we used a boat? I see that Hedeov is on the shores of the lake just like Klyugin."
"I don't want to be discovered by the Aisenevian military police. If we want to get to Pletrey alive and well, we should follow my plan." He put the map aside. "Tomorrow morning we will leave as soon as the weather allows us. I advise you to get a good sleep—"
"Yeah, okay. Aaand... Where will you sleep, Gavriil?"
"I..." He hadn't thought about it. "Um... Well, I can—"
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to sleep with me?"
"HUH?!" He jumped in embarrassment. "What? Are you crazy?!"
She burst out laughing. "C'mon! I said sleep, not 'sleep'! Your face is as red as a strawberry! You're so cute, little soldier!"
"Daughter of a bastard! I—" At that moment he remembered that he had extra furs. "Ah-ha!" He prepared a place to sleep on the floor. "You see? Now you can sleep or 'sleep' with yourself!"
She shrugged and, having taken the last roast chip, she went into her room exclaiming, with sharp irony:
"Virgin."
"Hey! I heard you!"
"So what's our alternative?"
"From Klyugin we can take a dirt road that passes through the forest and reaches Hedeov. It will take at least two days to get there. Then, from Hedeov, we'll go to Pletrey."
"Two days?! Wha-What if we used a boat? I see that Hedeov is on the shores of the lake just like Klyugin."
"I don't want to be discovered by the Aisenevian military police. If we want to get to Pletrey alive and well, we should follow my plan." He put the map aside. "Tomorrow morning we will leave as soon as the weather allows us. I advise you to get a good sleep—"
"Yeah, okay. Aaand... Where will you sleep, Gavriil?"
"I..." He hadn't thought about it. "Um... Well, I can—"
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to sleep with me?"
"HUH?!" He jumped in embarrassment. "What? Are you crazy?!"
She burst out laughing. "C'mon! I said sleep, not 'sleep'! Your face is as red as a strawberry! You're so cute, little soldier!"
"Daughter of a bastard! I—" At that moment he remembered that he had extra furs. "Ah-ha!" He prepared a place to sleep on the floor. "You see? Now you can sleep or 'sleep' with yourself!"
She shrugged and, having taken the last roast chip, she went into her room exclaiming, with sharp irony:
"Virgin."
"Hey! I heard you!"
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