and disagreement, supported the side of the envoy from Shelber, but the council did not approve of this position.
«My years are passing,» he raised his bushy eyebrows sadly. «And I don’t see a decent youth capable of ruling Vayelon. I have spoiled my children too much. The elders are already forty years old, but they are all helpless children. I propose, to the council, to introduce a new position in the department that is temporarily fulfilling my duties.
– We are not against such a position, but it should be occupied exclusively by a local, – the senator, sitting somewhere in the middle, waves his index finger. – For example me. To give power to a stranger, and even to some governor from Shelber… we will not allow!
– Well, calm down, – the king raised his hands, trying to calm down the shouting advisers. – In a week, we have to give an answer. Collect troops. Our answer is war.
Dark clouds were gathering in the sky. Peals of thunder and striking lightning fell right into the tower of the majestic temple of Selim, in the deserted city of Fimirel. Abandoned stone cottages surrounded a single residential structure stretching to the very heavens. Gloomy, dark building. This dizzying cone-shaped structure is even taller than the skyscrapers of Vayelon. And, most importantly, it moves. Each floor, like a huge disk, in the form of a semicircle, planted on top of each other, slowly revolves around its axis. And at the top, segments of a sharpened fiery roof. It glows bright orange. With the help of kinematics and changing color rendering, the illusion of flowing lava is created. No wonder this tower got the name – Volcano. Queen Fimirel Bil Hamhharaf lives here. An insidious witch who for the sake of power killed her father, and then her brother. She hates men, and therefore killed her son in order to make her daughter the receiver of power. Even all members of the council, in Fimirel, are exclusively women. The only man in the entire Rohvem Valley who can argue with the distraught ruler is High Priest Makhtum. He heads the most important common shrine of the Nahmau. This is the divine, first common religious temple of Selim – Birhatten, and, according to the law, no one has the right to take away the power of the chief priest over the spiritual community. Initially, this temple was built as a palace for the kings of Rohvem, even before the Fimirel tower appeared. But, the building turned out to be too chic, breathtaking, in a word, grandiose. Such a large-scale and magnificent complex that the then ruler Mastakh thought that only gods should live there, and decided to transfer the building to the clergy. A couple of centuries later, when the ideology of the «Law of Svurt» was popularized, the temple was slightly rebuilt, made it even larger and more fantastic, suitable for all spiritual levels. It is strange that the greedy queen did not even try to take possession of this building, because it is several times more beautiful than her palace. Perhaps, she still had some kind of upbringing, and respect for faith, otherwise, if she were blinded by power by a naive dictator, she would have been overthrown by her own advisers and caretakers. Hatred of the opposite sex, the future queen accumulated from childhood. A talented girl has always been ignored and not taken seriously. Her father called any of her suggestions nonsense, although he himself ultimately accepted them and said that these were his brilliant ideas. Now, the touchy lady hates all men in the world, and even her wife Liger is afraid of unpredictable passion and crazy fanaticism, having long planned to escape from the city, to the neighboring village of Dagbu, following the rest, adequate residents.
Today is the brightest night the Knight Masod has ever seen, standing at the farthest outpost of Vayelon. After feeding his horse, he quickly went to the tent to hide from the beginning of the downpour. A strong wind has risen. The catapults standing in the field rolled towards the fire and almost caught fire. The horses whinnied in fright. Two thousand people, already on alert for the second week, on the southern border of the Osiris, tirelessly watch the rugged terrain of Rohvem. Grabbing an earthenware pot, the guardsman began to have supper, quickly eating flour cakes with berry filling. The comrades sat closely with each other, telling different stories. Suddenly, outside there were the shouts of the guards. – Everybody out! Faster, faster! Under construction, under construction! Stand in front of your tents! General Mandalis has arrived!
– What’s happening? Does the general show up in the middle of the night, in such terrible weather, without warning? – Masod goggled eyes, barely chewing on another pie. He carefully pulled back the curtain, peering through the small window of his tent. «Move your ass, guy,» his comrades hurried out into the street. There was complete confusion. It was not just his retinue who came with the general. With him came an army of at least five thousand people in full combat readiness.
– Roll up camp, prepare your horses and sharpen your arrows! – shouts the commander of the outpost. By the decision of the council, in a day, we move forward to capture Fimirel and liberate the Osirian villages.
Delight appeared in Masod’s confused eyes. Under a raging downpour, in the middle of the night, for the first time he felt the greatness of the army gathered here, and his irreplaceable, great role in the fate of an entire people. Gaining strength, the warriors, as it should, slept for the last time. In the morning, two knights gathering brushwood in the vicinity of the camp noticed movements in the distant bushes and reeds, a swampy peat land.
– Hey you, stop!! – Shouted one of the soldiers to a black, human silhouette, moving behind the tall grass. – Come here, or I’ll come to you myself! – he unbuttoned the cover and took out his blade, with a decoratively curved blade and a chopping handle. «Wait, don’t get excited,» his partner stopped him, grabbing his shoulder. «It’s just an old priest. He doesn’t hear you. He picks berries, I guess. Leave the poor man. – How do you know that this is a priest? – he was indignant, pushing his friend aside. «Maybe the spy from Fimirel changed his clothes. We are obliged to check, – having run up to the very hummock, surrounded by impassable thickets, they have not found anyone. At the same moment, screams were heard from the camp. «It’s begun,» the soldier muttered to himself. – What started? – his partner is perplexed. – Savages, attacked again. Acadian and Sumerian tribes, admirers of ancient traditions, along with the Nahmau, consider these lands cursed. During the time that we are here, they have already persuaded us three times to get out of here, in response our commander only laughed. The turn has come to answer for our stubbornness, – with a smile, he twisted his long spear and ran towards the screams.
The battle unfolded. Hundreds of wild hunters, calling themselves «blackheads,» hunted down the generals’ troops that had come that night. Reinforcements came to the Sumerians from the north. They are superstitious Acadians with three leaders at their head. The Osiris, organized a tactful defense, under the command of General Mandalis himself, who is also a member of the council of the wisest in Vayelon. The victory was won with minimal losses, however, this event disrupted all the plans of the command. Having sent messengers to the city, with the news of an immediate offensive, the general did not wait for the coming of night. An impressive army of seven thousand people at that time, crossed the borders of Rohvem and moved in the direction of Fimirel. Black silhouettes, again crawling in the reeds. When the soldiers directed their arrows at them, warning of an attack, they were frightened and jumped out of the nasty, seething quagmire.
«You can’t get through here,» one of them creaks in a hideous voice with a terrible accent. It was Sabarets. A representative of an almost completely extinct ancient people. They were called Sabars by Osiris. This word means «transparent heads», which was true. They are so different from other people that their organisms do not coincide with the general human DNA. The processes on the coccyx, which they can even wiggle, indicate the presence of full-fledged, albeit short, tails. With blisters and black abscesses all over his face, he was certainly not a priest of the great temple. These creatures worship their unseen gods. The Sabarian people are not aggressive, but disgusting. Selfish and rebellious. Even the greatest kings of Mesopotamia could not conquer them. The longer you look at these people, the more you get the impression that they are not people at all, but some other, peculiar kind of mammals. Bald, wrinkled heads, with transparent skulls, seem eerie, twisted in shape. And their terrible wrinkles. They, like protruding