“And to whom should I speak it?” Arel said. And despite all the horror of his position, his completely slave existence in the cruel hands of Nikto-Demon, in Arel’ voice one could still very clearly hear, albeit quiet, but some kind of patronizing intonation, the way he seemed to lazy stretch out the words a little. The intonations of a born lord, prince, characteristic of a person accustomed to order, command, dispose. And it was hard to say how much time and humiliation it would take for them to disappear, and whether it would ever happen.

“To whom should I make a speech?” He repeated. “Before the unclean? Congratulate them on their victory after seeing me naked and crawling on my knees at the feet of their White Lord? I was exactly like Marcus now. Or praise the noble black of Kors for their bravery? This would be very appropriate, especially considering that for them I am a fallen prince, a painted hole. Ah-ah, you probably mean my people, my peasant militias? How many were there? More than two hundred, and they fought bravely. And who should I congratulate? They all died.”

“Not all,” Lis replied quietly. “About ten left.”

“That's lovely! I don't have people anymore, Lis. You made warriors out of my peasants. And now there are no warriors or peasants. The land is not cultivated and there will be no harvest. Those remaining in the Estate will starve to death. You have robbed me of all my subjects. You, Lis, threw my people into the red meat grinder.”

“What was left for me? To send there the noble black Kors?”

“I don’t know,” Arel shrugged, “you are a genius of strategy. Not me.”

“Forgive me, prince,” said Lis seriously. “Sorry, nothing personal.”

Arel looked at him indifferently:

“I don’t care. Spit on it. Lis, don't bother yourself.”

“Lis used the tactics of reds,” said Kors. “Reds worship fire, for them people are like matches. And people are still not matches to burn with boxes! I was against it from the very beginning!”

And Lis couldn’t resist:

“What is it! Whatever I do, I will never be your equal! You treat me like shit! The demon perceives me as shit, Kors is true black, you perceive me as shit, aren’t you nuts?! I do everything! And thanks to my plan, you are here! Do it better! Why didn't you do?! You enjoy the fruits of my labor, bathe in warm baths and shit on my head!”

“I don’t shit on your head,” Nikto said.

“And I too,” Kors didn’t keep himself waiting, “we are grateful to you.”

“Fuck you!”

“Lis, I will order everyone to gather in the square so that you, our most important and beloved military leader, congratulate everyone on the victory. Yes?” Nikto asked.

“Yes!” Lis snapped. “Gather them. I’ll take Marcus off and come.” He pulled the chain:

“Marcus, get up and follow me.”

“Tie him! And put on a mask,” Nikto shouted after him, but Lis didn’t answer and didn’t turn around.

“We're going downstairs,” Nikto said when Lis left. “We need to call Karina. Valene! Call Karina, quickly.”

And Valentine rushed to carry out, but either he was still poorly oriented in the new environment, or he was in a great hurry, when suddenly, not fitting into the doorway, he bumped into the doorframe, hitting it at full speed. Only the muzzle rang. Valentine was literally knocked over on his back. He fell and lay motionless.

“Oh-oh-oh, you motherfucker!” Nikto said. Kors approached the boy, bending over him. Valentine groaned softly, shaking his head weakly from side to side, stirred and slowly sat down. Stunned by the blow, he clearly didn’t understand anything.

“I think I'll go get my daughter myself,” said Kors.

Lis led Marcus into a basement room filled with massive wardrobes stuffed with old folios and expensively bound books. On the table were stacks of plump notebooks.

“Look,” said Lis, “the scientist of the Reds conducted his experiments here, invented all sorts of exploding things. He was very good at it until his arms were blown off. Here he wrote down everything he did. Proportions, some formulas. Do you know red language?”

Lis turned to Marcus, he stood naked in front of him, embarrassedly covering his genitals with his hands, and looked at Lis in complete bewilderment and even with some kind of horror. Lis shook his head.

“Hey?”

“I know it a little, I learned it at school,” Marcus said barely.

“Well, the numbers are the same in all languages. You will understand,” Lis looked at him carefully. “What's the matter, Marcus? All the bad things are over. Come to your senses!”

But Marcus didn’t answer, he looked away. And Lis’ face became hard:

“Don’t disappoint me, don’t make me regret my kindness! Are you really going to commit suicide? Is Nikto right? So the Demon is right?!”

“No… no… but I can't make gunpowder!”

“Sit and learn!”

“Why all this? To kill as many people as possible?”

“Marcus!”

“Why are you doing it?”

“Do you want to return to the unclean?!”

“No!”

“Then what’s the meaning of this question?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Go here! Sit down!” Lis opened the notebook in front of him. “Do you understand anything?”

Marcus glanced at the pages dotted with numbers and even seemed a little interested:

“It's chemistry.”

“Do you understand it?”

“Now, wait a minute, please.”

“Make it out clear. I have no time to wait, I will come to you later. You can watch everything here, touch it. Explore. This is your world now, study it, scientist!”

“A-ah? Will I stay like this… without clothes? Naked?” Marcus shivered.

“Do something, show what you can do. And the Demon will give you clothes, allow you to take off your mask and gloves.”

“Will you put the mask on me again? I don't see anything in it.”

“Marcus, you are not a human now. A person has a face and clothes. You haven't got it yet. And I can't do anything about it, I also obey. You have heard. I am your master, but he is mine. I am a slave to the Demon.”

“You have to be crazy to do this voluntarily,” Marcus whispered, looking at Lis with such fear in his eyes that Lis didn’t even consider it necessary to answer.

“Will you make gunpowder?” He just asked again.

“Did you save me because of this? When I said that I was a scientist, did you decide that I would make you gunpowder?”

“No. I pulled you out of there because I felt very sorry for you. About gunpowder it occurred to me later. And now I regret that I succumbed to emotions then!”

“No, don't be sorry! I will do!”

“Let's see,” Lis handed him a mask. “Put it on.”

And Marcus, unable to restrain himself any longer, wept bitterly:

“I can't do this… all this… my whole life… it was as if it was crossed out, on the day they grabbed me there, in the cave…”

“Well, why the hell are you going there alone, and even so far away? You entered their territory.”

“I studied stone flowers,” Marcus looked at the cabinet, inside which behind glass doors, interspersed with all sorts of artifacts, there were several stone flowers. “This… Nikto needs drugs? A stone flower is suitable for this. You just need to dry it and crush it. Or if you are sorry to ruin completely, cut slightly and collect the juice.”

“Marcus, you got me sick with your fauna!”

“Flora.”

“Stop shedding tears, it has already happened! And it was foolish to think that the unclean would chat with you, listen to your lecture on stone flowers and let you go. Your naivety has ruined you.”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed bitterly, awkwardly smearing tears across his face, trying to wipe them away, but he couldn't, because they continued to flow from his eyes, and he was unable to calm down. “But what you did to me, you… you look at me… everyone was laughing. Why aren't you laughing?”

“There’s nothing funny at all, dry your tears. If you shed tears in a mask, everything inside will be wet and very unpleasant.”