2

The royal court was in utter confusion. The councilors' worst fears were confirmed – Glerion decided to attempt negotiations with the elves. The king's advisors went out of their way to persuade him that it was pointless and would only cause an unnecessary "storm," but the king refused to listen. He persistently maintained that a complete understanding with this "noble race" would bring Milvette's kingdom many benefits, and above all, an ally in all wars. No one could explain to him how wrong he was. The king was deaf to all arguments. However, in one of the drawers in Misterel's chamber lay a document that was meant to put an end to all the king's follies. A document that was meant to disrupt the order that had prevailed for many, many years – the scepter being inherited from father to son. The drawer was duly secured. Misterel ensured that the document, drafted by all the king's most important advisors, did not fall into unauthorized hands. He put it in one of the drawers and installed a special lock, the key to which only he possessed, and no expert in breaking such security could open it. The rolled-up piece of paper lay there, waiting for the right moment....

*

And finally, it arrived. The king was leaving for the newly founded elven city of Les Mette and could think of nothing else....

*

"You, Killhu, will go to Memphelion, to Bistla. You will deliver this letter to him. If you deliver this letter without any delays or problems, you will be handsomely rewarded. You will receive an additional 100 rebates...

" "Yes, Master Misterel. I will deliver it without delay. You can rest assured.

" "I haven't finished yet!" the councilor said angrily. "I still have one more thing to tell you. If any individual, of any race, accosts you along the way, you are to under no circumstances engage in conversation with them and under no circumstances stop them." If you see anyone taking too much interest in you, get rid of them. I don't care how. Just get rid of them. However, if you realize you can't handle it, you are to burn this letter. Do you understand? Burn it!

"Yes, I do. And don't raise your voice at me. I'm a messenger of royal rank, not some lowly servant." Killh refused to be pushed around. "Only one thing surprises me. Why are you so concerned, Master Misterel, that this letter doesn't fall into the wrong hands? Is this some kind of conspiracy? Because if so, know that I don't participate in conspiracies.

" "Maybe you haven't taken part before, but you will now," Misterel said in a composed voice. "I assure you, this time you will. Because I will pay you 300 urges for completing the task. That bag of coins will be enough for two months of intoxication. Think for yourself. For a simple task from the king, you would receive 70 urges." And here you get 300. Isn't that reason enough to break your rules just once?

"At first you were talking about 200 tributes, and now you've upped the ante to 300. You must be incredibly keen to have your letter delivered by a royal messenger, and not some common rag, a mere lackey. The question is why? Why do you care so much about me?

" "You're wrong. I don't care about you at all. I'll tell you more: I simply don't give a damn about you. I don't give a damn about you and your damn rules!" Misterel lost control for a moment. "I chose you only because you're supposed to go to the Knights' Guild. I can't send anyone else there, because they would discredit me in Bistl's eyes. Only you are suitable for this 'mission.' Because you are the only 'learned' messenger in the entire kingdom. You! Fucking Killh vun Morth! No messenger in the entire kingdom is called by your name. They have a first name, and that's enough for them. They don't have a prefix before their surname, and they don't have just a surname." And you're different. You have a first name, a prefix, a last name. A little while longer, and you'll start aspiring to "van," because "vun" won't suit you anymore. But don't worry. "Vun" is already the highest rank for you. You probably don't even expect anything more, and if you do, you're a complete fool.

"Calm down, Master Misterel. Insults are slowly flowing from your lips, and according to the law, no one but the king has the right to insult a royal messenger. The king himself only has such a right if the messenger fails to complete the task entrusted to him

." The messenger was remarkably calm. "I see you're familiar with the law. That's good. I hope you also know the rules of knighthood and won't make some foolish mistake that will ruin any chance of further cooperation with Bistl."

"So you still want me to go to Memphelion." Killh feigned surprise. "Even though I told you I don't participate in conspiracies." Even though you've told me you hold me in the highest regard. Hmm...admirable persistence. However, I still refuse your offer and repeat: I will not participate in the conspiracy.

"I've heard that before... Hmm...okay...so I'll tell you differently. This is no conspiracy. You are to deliver a simple, friendly letter to the guild, requesting your presence at Bistl's royal court to discuss an extremely important matter concerning the new law the king signed today. Do you accept the offer?

" "Yes, I accept now," the messenger smiled slyly, "but in return I demand 400 yucks and the best horse you have in the royal stables."

Misterel and Killh laughed and shook hands...

*

The three messengers left the city and set off in different directions. North, east, and west. Merion, Zondel, and Bistl were supposed to arrive in Milvatras today...

*

Killh rode like a madman. He loved riding at a deadly pace, and now he had at his disposal a fiery stallion called Milvett. It was a "royal" horse, usually ridden only by Glerion. This, however, was quite rare, as the "great lord" ordered carriages. The messenger didn't stop for a single stop. He knew the matter he was on was urgent. He had been galloping for some time. "I should soon see the outlines of my destination," he thought. And so it happened. The city came into view. "Very close now. I can already see the walls," he thought...

He had arrived... He dismounted. The gate was closed, which struck him as odd. Gates were usually closed just before sunset. He didn't know, however, that in Memphelion, the customs were somewhat different. The gate was always closed, regardless of the time of day. Knights guard the heart of their profession well. He pounded the wooden gates with his fist a few times. He looked up and saw a bow aimed at him. On the bridge, above the gate, stood a guard, his legs spread apart, clad in well-made armor, seemingly a messenger's. Killh's surprise knew no bounds. In "normal" cities, a special window was made in the gate. The guard always stuck his head out and checked who he was dealing with. This wasn't very wise of him, as someone might have simply chopped off the head. The messenger realized he didn't know everything he'd thought about knights, as he'd previously thought, and he became a little frightened.

"Who are you?" a voice came from above

. "I come from Misterel to Bistl with a message. I have a letter to deliver." Killh replied calmly

. "Aha. That's what I thought. Bistl has been expecting a messenger for some time.

The messenger was forced to wait a few moments. Finally, the gates swung open, and he rode inside. He saw the massive structure of the gate and marveled.

"Welcome, friend, to the knightly city of Memphelion. By the will of the guildmaster, Bistla ven Helt, I am to lead you to the headquarters of our guild. I am Herion. I will not honor you with any further names, as they are unnecessary," the knight joked. "And you, surely, Killh vun Moth. The king's messenger.

" "I see I am dealing with a truly royal messenger. I have never been pleased to meet a messenger with such a 'title.' Let us go. Mehron is waiting."

The men entered the city. They walked along a cobbled street. The guild hall was located behind the main square, so the knight and the messenger had some distance to cover. The streets were lined with ordinary inns. The knights drank ale and mead and munched on meat. Killh hadn't expected this profession to feast in such a way. Only now did he realize how little he truly knew about knights. Finally, they reached a circular square, in the center of which stood a statue of a very famous knight – Dreith ven Fosen. Dreith died in 210, according to the human calendar. Ninety years had passed since his death. He was already history, but a much-celebrated one. Every child in the city, even the smallest, knew that no one had ever contributed as much to the knightly profession as Dreith. He founded the first knightly school in the then small town of Memphelion. Until then, young boys who wanted to become knights had to be very lucky to fulfill their dreams. They had to be adopted by some high knight, who would later prepare them to "enter the ranks of the profession." He taught them swordsmanship, instilled morality... When Dreith founded a knightly school, everything changed. Now, every boy could easily prove himself in the ten-year school. If he persevered through the entire 10 years, he became a knight, and from then on, the rules of the profession applied to him. This greatly facilitated the process of "increasing the ranks of knights." A boy would be sent to such a school at the age of six, and if he survived to the end, he would become a knight at sixteen. This sparked great opposition from wizards, who believed that knighthood was completely unnecessary. They claimed that knights only knew how to swing a sword and nothing more, meaning they were the same as ordinary soldiers. “So what do we need them for?” they asked each other. Before they realized their mistake, a war broke out between the professions. The stupid and senseless skirmish lasted a very long time. But it had to end sometime, and of course it did. It ended with the death of the leaders of both “groups.” Dreith ven Fosen was killed, and so was the archwizard. Everyone understood that the dispute was pointless. In 210, they made peace. The Supreme One’s successor – archwizard Bismart ven Sollen – signed a document confirming consent to the establishment of a knights’ school. For the first time in many years, the wizards had compromised...

*

The men left the square and entered the wide avenue leading to the guild headquarters, which turned out to be a manor house. It wasn’t as large as the one in Milvatras, but it was still impressive...