and the white strand that had been knocked out during the fight, and Kors’ body was pierced by a convulsion: demonic energy filled with pleasure that didn’t belong to this mortal world. Kors groaned, arching and cumming right in his pants. Nikto kissed him on the lips, and Kors answered him feverishly with all his passion.
“Kors, you get stoned with me,” Nikto laughed, “you are the same as Arel. No wonder you got along and were lovers for so long.”
“Yes, let me get stoned, let… my Demon…”
Nikto pulled away:
“Be patient a little, now is not up to this, you see.”
Kors didn't care, he had been alone for too long, tired of being alone and now he wanted to be near this creature and feel pleasure. Nikto put on the mask again. They came out of the arch, and Kors saw Arel’s grim gaze. He stood nearby, but didn’t interfere.
The unclean warriors divided into three lines of defense in order to repulse the attacks of the reds in turn, since it was clear that the attack could last for several more hours at least, and it would not be possible to withstand it, without the opportunity to catch their breath and recover.
The sky was covered with smoke, and it was already impossible to determine whether it was sunny or not. Kors didn’t feel his hand, and his pace slowed noticeably. Incessant flashes from the reds’ weapons hit the eyes, their feet slipped into a mess of blood and mud. Nikto, and oddly enough, Prince Arel, insured him, and Kors was very pleased by it. The unclean ones fought as if they were wound up, and Kors was already beginning to doubt that they were flesh and blood creatures, not machines. All around was littered with corpses. Fortunately, the reds were also tired, slowed down, and by the evening it became noticeably quieter.
Lis rode up to them on horseback. He apparently decided to bypass the positions. His horse squinted with his eyes and constantly strove to stand on its hind legs, emitting a nervous whinnying, there was foam on its face, the incessant roar and red lighters finished off the poor animal, but Lis didn’t pay attention to the almost distraught animal.
Atley Alis’ face, stained with soot, was focused, and at the same time somehow strangely joyful:
“How are you?!”
“We are coping!”
“On our right wing, they retreated.”
“Here too.”
“Now they will retreat over the moat and start at dawn. Close up the wall, faster!”
2
Protection
Trust your own capabilities, increase them with knowledge and experience. Trust your intuition and let it grow into effective action.
Lis decided to urgently gather all the commanders to discuss the situation:
“Have you called me?” He asked, and Kors nodded.
“Yes. In half an hour, everyone will come. Emil Gabriel died on the defensive.”
“Brother of your former lackey?”
“Hmm… Yes.”
“That’s already your second officer, Kors.”
“Menerhis was subordinate to Prince Ariel Riel.”
“They came with you.”
“They came for the wealth of the reds, there is nothing to be done, this is a war. And I heard rumors that Emil was leaking information about our actions to the Black City to his brother, and Clive Gabriel was reporting everything to Leonardo.”
Lis shook his head, he looked upset and gloomy, lit a cigarette as usual. Kors noticed that Lis’ face was still dirty, streaks of soot smeared across his cheeks. He didn’t wash or clean himself up after the fight. Before the meeting, he laid out Fort’s plan on the table and made notes in pencil, but didn’t take a minute to simply wipe the dirt off his face with just a wet towel. Lis was so preoccupied with his war that apparently he didn’t even think about it, it seemed he didn’t think about anything at all except the war. And Kors bitterly concluded that this attitude towards himself and seemingly trifles gave up Lis as a commoner, a poor man, accustomed to do without water and walk dirty, without discomfort. Kors moistened a napkin on the table with water from a jug and handed it to Lis:
“Alis, wipe your face, please.”
“What?” Lis looked up from the Fort’s plan. He looked at Kors a little questioningly, as if trying to understand what he wanted from him.
“Wipe your face, please, you're black with soot.”
“Kors, don't bother me with any bullshit now, okay?” But Lis took the napkin and wiped his face. Kors felt relieved from his heart, now his noble friends would not think anything bad about his son-in-law. Lis lit a new cigarette, his pensive glance back at the plan. Nikto and Arel entered the room.
“Nik, have you called your commanders?” Lis asked quickly.
“Yes. Zaf, Nija and Tazh will come now.”
“Whose commander is Nija?” Kors remarked skeptically. “Of five unclean ones?”
“Kors, I need him,” said Lis, “I also can't stand him, believe me, but now I need him,” he glanced at Karina. She averted her eyes. She didn’t open her face, because her lips had not yet fully healed and Karina didn’t want her father to see that Lis was beating her. Moreover, Lis told her that she could only be with an open face in their rooms. And he forbade her taking off the scarf. Therefore, Karina, obeying his orders, remained with a black silk scarf on her face.
“Send Karina away,” said Kors, “she has nothing to do at the meeting. Let her rest in the room.”
“She fought on a par with everyone else,” Lis objected. He turned to Karina:
“If you want to rest, you can go to the room. If you want to stay by my side, you can stay.”
“Can I stay with you?” Asked Karina, pleadingly looking at Lis with her expressive eyes.
“Yes, you can.”
And Karina, right in front of her father, fell on her knees before Lis, bending over to his boots:
“Thank you…”
And Nikto, smiling under his mask, made Kors feel what Lis felt now, when such a beauty as Karina, with her noble black father, humiliating herself, crawled at his feet. And Kors went up inside with indignation. Lis lifted Karina, again placing him on the chair next to him.
“You yourself, Alis, run into trouble, at first you drag her everywhere you go, where some men are, and then she kisses others,” said Kors.
“She will not do it anymore,” Lis smiled.
“Maybe you will also wrap my daughter in a cape?!”
“If I want, I will close her completely with a cape.”
“She is not a slave, but a noble lady!”
“She is my wife, and if I so want, she will wear what I command,” Lis seemed to enjoy teasing Kors.
“My wiff,” whispered Kors, he, like many black ones, was infuriated by the red accent of Lis, “put a bag on her head!” With annoyance, he reached for his gold cigarette case, decorated along the edge with blue stones.
Lis just grinned, flashing in a half-smile that looked more like a grin, the edges of his even white teeth, and again bent over the drawings.
Karina didn’t look at her father, she silently adjusted the scarf on her face so that it reached her eyes and put a hood on her head, covering her hair tied in a ponytail.
Kors mentally addressed Nikto: “What is he doing?! He plays with her as with a living doll, covers her face and still flaunts her!”
“Lis likes it when she sits next to him, admires and admires him, looks with loving eyes,” Nikto also mentally answered him.
Kors just shook his head, opened