THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION

6

  The air was so humid that hands and face quickly became wet. In addition, it was raining lightly.

Having unbuttoned his camisole, Yakir hung it on a stick driven into the side of the round platform. Tori watched him indulgently, occasionally casting eloquent glances at the dark windows of the residence. Waiting for Yakir to take a position opposite, he drew his sword and, carefully placing the scabbard on the sand, spoke:

  “For a long time, I confess, I wanted to talk to you. You made too much noise with that stopper [3] a year ago. Within the walls of this Academy, no one has allowed himself such a thing yet. Timini and I even barely filmed together. It is clear as day that you were helped - you yourself would not have hung him like that. It had to be thought of! The general almost got hit! 

  Yakir shrugged.

  - Lafast said to figure it out yourself - I figured it out. This scoundrel deserved a real noose, not a couple of smiles. But he left me behind.  

  The officer smiled wickedly. He tried to behave like a senior, but it looked so unnatural that Yakir could not bring himself to play along. Tori himself was not distinguished by exemplary behavior, and the older associates never touched him only because he was twice as strong as any of them, although he entered the Academy at fourteen, like Yakir. In addition, many guessed that someone taller stood behind the pupil of the blacksmith's daughter. After a couple of years, idle suspicions grew into certainty. It was difficult to hide the face and heroic figure: they testified to his relationship with General Gorgota better than the most detailed metrics. 

  - I wonder how you managed to study? Stepping slowly to the side, Tori gripped the hilt with both hands. – Or are all doors open for His Highness?

  Yakir laughed softly.

  “No use, officer. You still walked under the table with your aunt when they pointed me to my place. Don't waste your time - I've taken this test hundreds of times. And anyone can say the same about you.

  Patient, you mean? - Tori smiled fervently, at once throwing off feigned importance. Dimples played on his round cheeks - the legacy of the Auric family, as well as wheat-blond hair. - That's good, that's right. Taking a deep breath, he made a sharp lunge.

  Yakir did not block and, dodging, circled around the officer, trying to disorientate him. Tori was strong, and in one-on-one close combat, and even in a limited space, there was no need to talk about the chances, but the strength and mass at the same time made Tori clumsy, while Yakir could move quickly. He fenced above average, although not brilliantly, but this level was quite enough for the title of handbrake. 

  “The playground is too small, you’ll get tired of running,” Tori remarked good-naturedly. - You need to hold out for about ten minutes, are you afraid, or what?

  – Ha! - Continuing to circle, Yakir parried his blows on a tangent and lazily, with caution, struck back - rather to divert eyes.

  - Yes, I won’t push too hard: you’re so frail ...

  “Your tricks are like a milk horse, Erinma. Look, the general is probably watching, he will say later that you showed me indulgence.

  “I do,” said Tori, holding back a smile, not at all embarrassed when he heard his father's family name from his lips. - I could have hit ten times already, and without any sword.

  This is against the rules...

  “And who told you that in life they will follow these rules, eh, Vallor?”

  Dodging a frontal attack, Yakir took advantage of Tori's opening and stepped forward decisively.

  The world quickly turned upside down, red sparkling circles flashed in the eyes. Gasping for air, Yakir tried to roll away, but Tori immediately pressed his chest down with his knee and easily took the sword away.

  “Well, are you giving up, Your Highness? Patting his cheeks, the officer laughed again.

  “Not so easy,” thought Yakir, and, catching his eye, moved his lips, as if trying to say something.

  - What? Raising an eyebrow, Erinma leaned lower, slightly relieving the pressure on his chest.

  The chance was small, but still there. Sharply throwing out his hand, Yakir hit the officer under the chin. He staggered, fell on his side, but did not lose consciousness - and yet this was enough to manage to get to his feet.

  “Ah, you…” Moving his jaw from side to side, Tori smiled broadly and, standing up, brushed the sand off his trousers. - Weak. But unexpectedly. 

  - I suggest we end here. Raising his sword, Yakir put it back in its scabbard and removed the wet camisole from the stick.

  “In vain,” the officer grimaced in annoyance. “But how do you know. I just don't understand why you need stripes? Few patrimonies?

   Having saluted, Yakir silently turned and walked away. There was no point in explaining something to a person who did not belong to the Host and from childhood was accustomed to falling asleep without a dagger under his pillow. In only one thing, Tori was right: the patrimony of Yakiru was really not enough. 

  

  The high, richly painted doors of the generals' chambers gleamed in the light of dozens of candelabra. The corridor was already quite crowded, but Yakir still managed to arrive first. Behind him, with a pile of papers, two more people immediately stood up - an elderly handbrake and a reserve footman from Bartayota.

  “Ask,” came a low, harsh voice from the other side of the door. 

  Bowing sparingly, the guard lifted the bolt and let Yakir inside.

  “Ah, Vallor…” Turning around, Lafast gave him an unkind look and jabbed a finger at a chair, forlornly placed against a massive dark table. The general himself stood at the window, sprinkled with rare rain, and smoked a black curved pipe. Tall and strong as an ancient oak, the permanent General Gorgota, despite his almost seventy years, could give odds to any of his own officers. He was feared not only for his remarkable physical strength, but also for his sharp mind. Even the Head of the Council was afraid of Lafast: he and Tarham had known each other for half a century, and despite the fact that the general openly showed dislike for the Order, the priest did not dare to touch him.   

  "I think you already know what I'm on." - Keeping calm confidence in his voice, Yakir sat down and briefly, while the general was not looking at him, looked around the living room, which also served as an office.

  “So you decided to try your luck?” Having finished smoking, Lafast opened the window a little and, letting in a damp wind, immediately closed it: the fireplace against the opposite wall made a plaintive lingering sound. “Are you sure, son, that you need it?”

  “It is unlikely that anyone will ask me,” Yakir answered evasively. 

  What if there was a choice? Sinking into a high chair upholstered in dark blue velvet, the general sighed noisily. – What would you like?

  - Why these questions? 

  “Answer me when I ask, otherwise you’ll get out,” Lafast said calmly without a shadow of a smile. – You study in my garrison, and while you are listed, I am responsible for you. I deem it necessary - I will leave it.

  Smiling inwardly, Yakir lowered his head. Lafast did not throw words: he had enough influence to delay the inevitable for a couple of years. But the general could not release from the debt to the Leading Line, just as he could not change the existing order. 

  “Does it make sense to swim against the current and end up drowning anyway?” - Forbidding himself to cling to straws, Yakir again looked at the general. He watched him, casting long glances from under graying massive eyebrows. 

  - Well, have you decided? - he asked. - With your head in the pool, Vallor, or will you still sit by the bank?

  - I am grateful for the patronage and care, my general, - Yakir nodded slightly. “But if the heir demands, can I evade?” 

  “You can,” said Lafast. - You are not ready. Serve more, gain experience - you will bring more benefits.

  “I have other obligations as well. And you know them. 

  This, too, can wait. 

  There was a loud knock on the door. Grimacing in annoyance, the general slammed his huge fist on the table top.

  - Let it in! he snapped. - Who else did the hard one bring?

  Hearing a creak and heavy, swift steps, Yakir turned around. Straightening his white jacket, which was spattered with road dirt, Paraman waved his hand in annoyance, ordering the officer following him to wait outside. Judging by the dark circles under his narrowed eyes and dusty boots, the duke had been in the saddle all night.

“Enough, Lafast! Approaching, Paraman threw a heavy envelope on the table and motioned Yakir to stand up. – Documents are prepared and approved. I'm picking him up and the other three tomorrow morning. Did you ask Falinor for a son? I fulfilled both her request and yours. Kindly satisfy mine now.

  Raising his eyebrows, Lafast chuckled and looked straight at Yakir:

  - What do you say?

  Yakir smiled.

  “I am the son of the Leading Line, my general. 

  “Well then, have it your way. Taking the envelope, Lafast took out the papers and, after a cursory glance, signed. - I give Taer the title of combat handbrake, he deserved it. And as for you…” Handing Yakir a clean sheet, the general shrugged his shoulders indifferently: “If you want to get a rank, you will return and finish your training. 

  Feeling anger surge in his chest, Yakir narrowed his eyes defiantly:

  "And if I insist?"

  “Be careful,” Paraman warned quietly. - Don't jump on the rampage. 

  - Insist on what? Leaning back, Lafast folded his arms across his chest. His broad face showed curiosity.

  Suppressing the lump in his throat, Yakir straightened his shoulders and answered confidently:

  - I am at the last stage, I successfully passed all the theories and passed the test - you could not help but see. I consider myself worthy of the title of combat handbrake. 

  Throwing back his head, the general laughed heartily. 

  - Okay, take it, Paraman. Let it roll from here on all four sides. And make sure Tori doesn't do anything stupid.

  “I will,” said the duke. - Do not think that I am happy - do not you know? I've already gone through two... 

  “And I’ll outlive you,” Lafast said good-naturedly. - Do not flatter yourself.

  – Hardly, – Paraman answered him in tone. “I have a bad heritage. Moreover, the culprit of this heredity has not yet been found. 

  “A weighty argument,” the general agreed. “But I don’t think there is any reason: even his patience was not enough for so many years. So don't disturb the shadows - it's time to leave the past in the past. 

  Paraman shook his head.

  - For me, Erinma, the past is always before my eyes: the present was too expensive. 

  “All right, all right,” Lafast raised his hand in conciliation and stood up. "Come on, both of you, I've got work to do." I'll go downstairs in three hours and check the time sheets. And look, Tori, don't say anything. My decision is final: it won't be here. The closer to the fire, the safer. Grow up and understand. 

[1] Mid-level officer. The combat handbrake was subordinate to hundreds and more people and several palechniks - junior officers. He was given the right to teach any academic disciplines, including non-military ones. The reserve handbrake could command a hundred soldiers only when martial law was declared, if the need arose, but otherwise he obeyed the military officers of his rank and carried out their instructions.

[2] Palechnik is a junior officer. The combat palechnik had the right to command ten soldiers and perform staff work. Reserve - was subordinate to military officers.

[3] Stopnik is the highest officer rank in the Kingdom. A combat stopnik, in addition to the right to command, can conduct teaching activities in any discipline, and deal with court cases. The reserve stopnik also has the right to teach any disciplines and deal with court cases. In wartime or emergency situations, by direct order, he can receive the status of a combat officer.