“There's a wolf walking by the lake,” Tol explained. “Here, they found a boy from the militia on the same day as you left. I don’t let anyone go there anymore.”

“How well it is drawn,” Kors couldn’t resist.

And Tol was delighted:

“Some freak used to work with Lila in the theater, he sculpted all sorts of decorations, and when the theater closed, he stayed on the street. So he came to us.”

“Yes,” agreed Kors, “it is a very correct decision. There are many illiterate among your soldiers, and the pictures explain everything clearly. That you can't go to the lake with wolves,” he looked at Nikto, because of the mask it was completely incomprehensible whether he was angry with Verniy or he didn’t care. Moreover, Verniy was standing nearby in his dog’s helmet, looking at the drawing on the board and did not look tense at all, his posture was still calmly relaxed. “Nothing will happen to him,” Kors suddenly thought with some inner confidence. Nikto didn’t even turn his head to Verniy, didn’t even look at him. He stood, looked at the body of unfortunate Tishka, torn apart by his beloved pet, and said nothing. And did he look at all? Did he see what the dog has done? Due to the black inserts covering his eyes, it is impossible to say with confidence. Or was it really a wolf and not Verniy at all?

“What's this? Why is this red here?” Lis said.

And everyone was distracted from the corpse of Tishka and looked at the red one, hanging next to on a rope tied around his neck.

“This is red Almer, he said a lot of unnecessary things about you, intimidated newcomers and was also constantly stoned. This is not how things should be.”

“Clear. Well, why did you hang this one?” Lis looked at the next corpse.

“Is he not a sorcerer?” Tol asked in surprise. “You see, Al, he has the same thing on his face, uh-uh… glasses, like the blind man you killed and whom we found buried along the road. You killed him? I decided not to risk and also got rid of the four-eyed!”

Kors froze. Tarmer! That’s where he disappeared! He looked at Lis, damn, he killed Tarmer to spite Kors! For some reason Kors was sure of this, but he was looking for this red. And everyone was silent. He asked Karina, and she said that she knew nothing, although she probably knew everything perfectly well. She deceived Kors! Her father! Everyone around knew where Tarmer had gone, except him. And they were silent. He looked at his daughter, but her face was covered with a cape. They were all closed, all the people of the Demon had masks: Nikto, Verniy, Lis, Karina, and Kors himself because of his jewelry and painted face. All were fenced off from the world of people by a barrier that made them faceless, and it was not clear now what Karina and Lis felt, because Tol, unwillingly, unwittingly revealed his act to Kors.

“Tol, are you going to hang every red in glasses?” Said Lis as if nothing had happened. “There are plenty of them, and this is not witchcraft.”

“Really?” Tol was surprised. “Well, okay.”

“What’s this?” Lis took a couple of steps and stopped at the corpse of a naked red maid. Her face was blue and swollen, but her fair white body, smooth, with large breasts and a fluffy bright red triangle of soft hair on a slightly convex elastic pubis, was beautiful.

Tol smiled.

“Such a funny red girl, let them admire her. In general, it's not me. These are the mercenaries of Zagpeace, they say, she began to talk with the prisoners and said something bad about us.”

“We have no prisoners,” said Lis.

“Well, yes… well, those that have just come over to our side. Zagpeace said she talked a lot, said, said… maybe she was a spy! Here it is!”

And now Lis looked skeptically at Kors:

“It’s the same song. Will your mercenaries hang every woman who has flown in?”

“They’re not mine anymore,” Kors replied quickly, but he was hurt and unpleasant. No, the black warriors couldn’t repeat this cruel trick again, and so he tried to justify them:

“I don’t think Zagpeace ordered a private case to be put on public display. He is usually very scrupulous about such matters. Surely she was really talking too much.”

Lis turned away and walked on. There were a few more hanged soldiers, the former theater artist also provided them with intelligible drawings, which reflected their faults.

“What? Fell asleep at the post? Jumped up not fast enough at the sight of the commander?! Tol, if everyone is hung up, we will run out of soldiers! I don’t have such a large army to spend like that!”

“They won’t end,” Tol muttered, and Lis looked at the scaffold being put together, where a few more nooses were being prepared.

“I'm not an executioner! I’m a warlord! Yes, I send people to their death, this is my profession, and I have been given this right. But then death itself decides who to pick up and who not! Tol, all executions have to be only with my approval. A pillory and a whip, this is enough for punishment!”

“They are disciplinarians,” Tol said, but not too confidently.

“Alis doesn’t care too much about discipline in the ranks,” remarked Kors, “for him it is of paramount importance that the soldier fights bravely, and in peacetime he can do whatever comes into his head.”

“I’m fine with discipline!” Lis raised his voice. “And you don’t consider these measures inappropriate in a situation where we have every military unit on the account?”

Kors shrugged.

“The warriors of Ram Murh are an illiterate rabble from Lower, I don't know how best. You say that you are not an executioner, and about the waste of people, but I heard how you executed every fifth after the capture of the Fort across the river.”

“They chickened out and fled in battle, that's different! They failed the offensive!”

“Sometimes it is smart to back down. You were not ready to storm the Edge Fort. I will not argue, you are just the only one who saved the situation at that moment, with your extraordinary and courageous act.”

“No! I will not back down under any circumstances! And those who do this will face the death penalty. Retreat is your tactic, Kors, and I know perfectly well how you surrendered Vlas by retreating.”

“I led people out of the imminent cauldron!”

Kors didn't think Lis knew about his past military achievements or failures, and he was hurt. Yes, Kors didn’t have high-profile victories behind his back, but he was not considered a coward, a bad commander who was only capable of retreating. He made the right decision then under this small town, and now Alis poked his nose at this retreat near Vlas, as if he screwed it up.

“You'd think you wouldn't have backed down then. There was a desperate situation there,” he said displeased.

“Me not!” Lis immediately answered, and Kors believed him, he would not back down. He would have sent all the soldiers to death in this cauldron, but he would not have retreated, and maybe he would have won. You never know. And Kors didn’t take risks and a thoughtless waste of human resources then, and no one reproached him for that, but here…”

“Do you think I'm a weakling? A cabinet warrior?”

“I didn't say that. Moreover, I consider you a good commander. A stable average. And those towns that you managed to recapture: Nira, Ples, Meadow village, remained yours. You did everything reliably. You don’t have the talent of a commander-in-chief, but as a performer of specific combat missions without initiative, you are not bad. No great shakes, economical and prudent in resources.”

“Have you studied my entire combat biography, damn it?”

“Of course! Crassus hammered us in his studies with the heroic history of the black people and the endless war with the red. And your careful multi-moves as an example of a brilliant strategy. Then I realized that I would never do that when I became a commander.”