Chapter 3

Hadbel was sitting comfortably on Odegon's throne. The throne of Kanror was a huge chair with legs carved in floral motifs and a backrest depicting the wings of a bird crowned with an opulent golden crown, the symbol of the city. Hadbel, the self proclaimed king of the Equerdas and now of the central Hadgard, filled almost the entire seat with himself. He was a powerful man in his prime. A thick black beard framed his chubby face, and his long gray hair fell over his shoulders. There was a simple silver band on the conqueror's head, symbolizing the status of King of the Equerdas. The rest of the clothes did not differ much from the uniforms of the other soldiers. The head of the former king of Kanor was now held by Gorsep, son of Hadbel, and his right hand.

"Have it impaled in front of the main gate. The people must know that a new lord has come." Hadbel's boomy voice echoed across the throne room.

Gorsep only smiled and pointed at the soldier standing behind him.

"Did you hear the order?"

The soldier nodded.

"Carry out." Having said that, he handed him the bloody trophy.

Gorsep approached the throne.

"Father, do you remember what you promised me?"

"Yes Yes." Hadbel smiled slightly. "I am surprised by your persistence. We have one of them, he's locked in the north wing, and the rest of the bodies are in the east tower. Maybe you can find her there?" There was irony in his father's voice, but his son didn't care.

Gorsep moved in the indicated direction without a word. The castle was shrouded in smoke, the stench of burning corpses was everywhere. Odegon's former subjects, under the supervision of the Equerds, cleaned up the bodies of the fallen. Gorsep headed first to the East Tower, where, by order of the mighty King Hadbel, the bodies of all the mercenaries fighting for Odegon were thrown into one heap. Already on the steps leading to the small square in front of the tower, he saw a pile of people. His heart was beating faster, he wanted to throw himself on the pile for a moment and look for his beloved face with his own hands. But he regained his composure and summoned four soldiers.

"I'm only interested in women." He said, showing his emotionless face to the gathered ones.

After exchanging short but meaningful glances, the soldiers began shuffling the bodies. The job was unpleasant, two days did their job. Swarms of flies hovered over the corpses, and the bodies slick with blood, rain, and mud were hard to toss. Gorsep watched the practice closely. There weren't many women. His eyes were caught for a moment by the familiar face of a blonde woman with beautiful long hair. He's seen her somewhere before. His missing one, however, was not among the dead. He smiled. He went to the dungeons located in the north wing.

The narrow steps were uneven and chipped in places by the tooth of time, forcing Gorsep to descend carefully. He was holding a torch in his hand. The darkness and the musty smell that prevailed here did not encourage a longer stay.

"Where is the living mercenary?" He asked the sentries

"Here, Your grace." The guard obligingly opened the iron-forged door.

In the corner, in the weak torchlight, he saw a pair of eyes fixed on him. He came closer. The mercenary, leaning slowly and with effort against the wall, stood up. He was tall and broad-shouldered, on the right side of his temples there were traces of clotted blood and his lower lip was unnaturally swollen.

"Do you know who I am?"

The mercenary nodded.

"I'm looking for your commander, do you know if he's alive?"

"Setia" His voice was hoarse. "Setia." He repeated, swallowing saliva "Is alive. I saw her running away."

Gorsep was pleased with the prevailing twilight, as an expression of relief and deep satisfaction was visible on his face.

"Where might she be now, I advise you to think carefully about your answer. I will decide about your life or death."

Tregor looked closely at the prince's face. His black eyes reflected the flame of the torch. There was something unreal about their meeting. The prince was interested in an ordinary mercenary. He had a chance to survive, and that was the most important thing, besides, he didn't owe Setia anything, she had left him to the enemy.

"Fenigrid. We were supposed to meet there, if anyone survives."

Gorsep left without a word. The cell door closed again with a loud squeak.

"Prince, what about the prisoner," the guard asked

"Kill him."

Gorsep walked slowly to the exit, he was fed up with this dungeon and yearned for light. The torches were put out at the entrance to the cask of water. For a moment he listened to the hiss of the fading fire. Fenigrid. This part of Hadgard was beyond his influence. Wait. He already had his plan and knew who would help him implement it.