Blood Will
Blood Will
Author: Kirill Klevanski
1

The journey to the capital was rather peaceful. Well, apart from the four times bandits attacked their small squad. They were former soldiers, deserters that had gotten fed up with not being paid. Considering that no one except the Moon Army had fought any wars in the past ten years, they had most likely been ‘downsized’.

The friends had also had to save their horses from a monster at the King of Beasts Stage, which had used up almost all of their meat.

A bit after that, Serra was captured by slave traders. It was a mystery how the witch had managed to fall into a trap set by simple practitioners, inhaling the fumes of a poisonous flower that blocked the flow of energy in her body. In the end, Serra was rescued. Nero, in his rage, reduced the slave trader population of the Kingdom by a whole cartel. Fortunately, they found a small box full of gold in their lair, so their sortie didn’t end up just being ‘charity’ work.

They’d also had to save a village from raiders. Then, together with the villagers, they’d built a dam to redirect a river that had flooded the area. The villagers believed that an underwater serpent had settled in the mountain lake that was the river’s source and the huge waves had been caused by the serpent waking up.

In general, the journey was rather uneventful by the standards of the former officers of the Moon Army. It was a little dreary, but quite comfortable overall. When they arrived at the gates of the capital, they had to explain to the guards why arrowheads were sticking out of their cart, why one wheel was made from animal bones, and why they had a huge lizard pulling the cart instead of a horse (it was because the horse had been eaten. Not by a beast, mind you, but by the travelers themselves — they had been short on food).

Only the medallion of the Generals that Ralpie had on hand prevented an incident. Upon seeing the emblem — a crane on a shield — the guards immediately let the cart through without so much as a second glance.

The capital looked almost the same as Hadjar remembered it. In that distant, bygone time, he would often sit on a random balcony of the tall tower and look at the city that spread out below — at the red roofs of the central district, where, among the many houses made from gray brick, there were also fragrant gardens, ponds, and the palaces of the richest nobles as well.

Farther out, behind the first ring of the fortress walls, was the largest of the districts — the trade district — full of yellow roofs. It was full of shops, markets, fairs, street performances, taverns, and restaurants. Of course, the most prestigious and best institutions, such as the pavilion of the ‘Six Flowers’ (the best restaurant in the city) or the Auction House, were located in the central district, but the trade district was still home to many impressive businesses, even by the standards of the nobility.

Otherwise, their pompous children wouldn’t have been regular guests in the ‘area of yellow roofs’, where they had fun, often taking advantage of the fact that they were immune to the threat of the local guards. That’s how things had been in the time of Haver, and that’s how they remained in the time of Primus. If even Haver, who’d held all the power in his country, hadn’t been able to handle the nobles, then the current King had no chance. He was a puppet that danced to the imperial tune, which played mainly for benefit of the officials and nobles.

Farther still, beyond the second ring of fortress walls, was the poor or ‘outer’ district with its green roofs. It was always dirty, stuffy, and overcrowded. Street vendors shouted at each other, messy signboards squeaked in the wind, and no one had done any maintenance on the roads for a long time.

It was difficult to even see the pavement underneath the layer of dust, dirt, and garbage, which people dumped right on the sidewalk. Their waste should’ve been thrown into the drains, but they had gotten clogged long ago, during the rule of Hadjar’s father.

“I told you that we should’ve gone through the central gate,” Nero said, gritting his teeth. “That way, we would’ve entered the trade district immediately.”

The former Commander of the Bear squad was pressing Serra’s hand to his nose. It looked as if he couldn’t tear his lips away from the girl’s skin. In fact, he was just breathing in her perfume.

“There’s a long queue at the central gate. We would’ve wasted several days there,” Ralpie replied immediately. “We’d have been late for the celebration.”

That was the ‘reason’ they had come to the capital — the masquerade ball in honor of the Princess’ birthday. She was already twenty years old and the ‘oldest’ unwed Princess in the surrounding area.

The city had been decorated and cleaned in every way for the occasion. Even the poor district stunk a little less than usual.

“You should’ve shown them your medallion,” Serra sniffed, holding a silk scarf up to her nose.

“That would be an abuse of power!”

Despite his talent with a sword, Ralpie was a very naive young man with an oddly innocent worldview. Perhaps that’s why he had been sent to deliver a message to the Mad General. The headquarters had probably hoped that Hadjar, known for being hostile to people sent by them, would end up killing him.

“That didn’t stop you from shoving your medallion in the face of that guard half an hour ago,” Nero continued to grumble.

Around them, people with clothes as shabby as Hadjar’s own were buzzing about. The former General didn’t care. He was also the only one who wasn’t pinching his nose with anything and had remained calm.

Sometimes, Hadjar would thrust his hand into his pocket, take out a silver coin, and throw it to the dirty children.

To these people, a silver coin was like the moon itself — distant and mystical. Three silver coins a year were the average earnings of the poor farmers and street vendors.

That’s why, when they approached the gate that led to the trade district, the friends were slightly taken aback when the guard said: “Entry f*e is two silver coins.”

Hadjar was shocked. South Wind had once told him that such a sum was the cost of entering the central district. Not the trade one!

However, for Nero and Ralpie, who had recently been to the capital, it didn’t come as much of a surprise. Nero just grumbled a little about the added cost. Five years ago, the guards had asked for a silver coin and 25 copper coins.

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