The unclean ones settled down in Riverside for the night, they kindled bonfires and made a terrible holiday with sacrifices. The soldiers hung each other on chains, piercing the skin on their backs with sharp hooks. They wounded their flesh without pity, passing hooks through the skin on their arms, legs, back, and if they did not hang themselves, then they simply hooked heavy weights to the hooks so that the wounded flesh would stretch. They pierced themselves through with thick needles, inserted sharp knives into their cheeks and lips, which protruded from their mouths. All this action was accompanied by a booming rhythmic beat of drums and howling of trumpets.

“Are you going to pierce yourself and hang yourself too?” Asked Kors looking at Nikto.

“No.”

“Why? It’s quite your style.”

“They make these sacrifices for the Demons to appease them and get help in battle. And I am the Demon,” Nikto answered, and, turning away from the raging crowd of unclean soldiers, went to the house. And Kors had no choice but to follow him.

Kors lay on his side on a dirty mattress in clothes and boots, blankly staring at the opposite wall and at the rat slowly picking something in the corner. Nikto and Arel kissed and hugged behind him, undressing each other. The sound of their kisses and the clang of taken off weapons falling to the floor drowned out the screams of the unclean and equally vile sounds of instruments outside the walls of the house. He heard and felt how Nik and Arel lay down on the bed, intertwining their bodies, the mattress trembling, and now, when they were very close, Kors heard their moans better, the hoarse hiss of Nikto, the tinkle of his trinkets and chastity belt. Arel, fucking him, screamed loudly, cumming, and Kors realized that Nikto again didn’t utter the coveted phrase either aloud or mentally, and, therefore, Arel was now free from this restriction. Kors didn’t turn to them, nor did he get out of bed. He didn't care. Even if Arel now turned him around, undressed him, ordered him to get down on all fours or suck him off, he didn’t care. It was as if they weren’t around right now, but it seems he was absent for them too, because, having fed up with the submissive body of the Demon, Arel didn’t touch Kors.

Kors stood under the canopy near the stable, getting ready to leave as they were returning to Crimson Rock. Nearby, the unclean of Desmod’s detachment were also preparing their horses for the journey and were talking loudly out loud. These unclean ones were simple soldiers and didn’t know how to communicate like their demonic commanders, and Kors couldn’t help hearing their chatter inattentively.

“For a horse to be fast and tireless, you need to smear his legs and stomach with deer fat,” said one.

“Reindeer fat is garbage,” the second objected to him, “you need to hang the tooth of a wolf, killed on the run, on a horse’s neck.”

“They say,” the third intervened in the conversation, “that the surest way to make a horse fast is to take a mole and with a knife, bought without bargaining, pierce its neck. And then put a few drops of blood on the horse’s head. And then you need to carefully remove the skin from the mole, leaving the paws, and stuff the skin with hay. And drag it three times along the face of the horse, from nose to ears!”

Kors just grinned, he had long been accustomed to the proximity of unclean beings. He had already put the saddle on the horse’s back when he saw Arel heading towards him. The prince walked slowly over and, looking at Kors with a slightly arrogant smile, stretched out his hand to the reins:

“Give me back my horse, Kors,” he said not harshly, but still in an orderly tone, and Kors, without saying a word, silently removed his saddle from the back of the most expensive horse in this world. From the horse of Prince Arel.

Together with the unclean, they crossed the river. Nikto, Prince Arel and Kors rode in front of the troops, heading for the Fort.

“Have you changed horses?” Nikto asked, looking at Kors with his black eyes, his face was open.

“Well, what was left for me,” Kors complained a little indignantly, “if he took it away from me!”

This horse of Arel, which he was riding now, was also very good, but Kors was still annoyed:

“And now I have to fuck with the next uncontrollable prince's horse!”

“So, your Beauty is with you again?” Nikto turned to Arel.

“Beauty?” Kors was surprised. “Was that not the name of the previous horse? Beauty, as far as I know, was slaughtered by Black Bey in revenge on Arel when you were ambushed in Lower during the Winter Festival. And he cut off his ears.”

“And you know everything,” Nikto shook his head, “all Arel’s horses have the same name,” he smiled.

“I took the horse away from you?!” Arel was indignant. “You were the first to take it away from me! And you tore his mouth with the bar bit!”

“Your horse was badly brought up!”

“He just didn't want to obey you! Damn, how could it be ?! Nik, he crippled my horse!”

“I don’t know, Arel, how you dealt with him, but your horse was simply uncontrollable, and only harsh training measures brought him to his senses,” Kors replied sharply.

“You just didn't have to steal my horse! There was no need to take what didn’t belong to you! You are not his master, and therefore he didn’t obey you and rebelled.”

“Wow, rebelled! Eh, he didn’t understand a single command! You didn't seem to work with him at all! Arel, I wonder how you didn’t break your neck and die in battle, your horse was wild! You should be grateful to me and say “thank you” that I kept him and raised him as it should be, and now he perfectly fulfills the commands.”

“Nik, he ruined my horse,” repeated Arel very upset, again throwing an angry glance at Kors:

“Did you put on double-bit mouthpiece for him? What have you done?!”

“I just controlled him,” Kors was also already upset by this conversation and the prince’s claims.

“Okay, Arel, what do you want from me? Should I pay you compensation? Or if he doesn't suit you anymore, bring him back. Should I pay for him? I'll buy him from you, okay?”

“Aha, here I am! No really!”

“Here, take it,” Kors took out several large gold coins from his wallet, handed them to Arel, “this is for my help in training!”

But Arel didn’t take the coins, turning away:

“Just don’t even dare to approach him anymore!”

“Your Beauty, beauty prince?”

“Yes!”

“And what is the name of this horse, which is now mine? Beauty too?” Kors could hardly hold back his laughter, and Nikto, looking at them, smiled with his now black mouth.

“You can call him what you want!” Arel was still annoyed.

“Okay, Beauty can only belong to, as far as I understand. Is this horse a mestizo?”

“Yes, he’s half unclean,” Nikto confirmed.

“And he's quite obedient,” Arel said calmly. “It will be easy for you with him, Kors.”

“Thank you, Prince Arel.”

The army of the unclean was already on the approaches to Crimson Rock when the wind blew from the Fort, pouring them into an unbearable fetid stench of rotting flesh. Lis, as usual, didn’t care about the burial of those killed in battle, saving wood and coal for forges and not burning corpses. He ordered to remove everything of value from the dead, take away armor and weapons and simply throw the bodies into the moat behind the walls, sprinkling them with earth a little.

Unclean Marbas sniffed and smiled, as it seemed to Kors, with a double row of sharp teeth:

“Nice places,” he said.

Having met their fellow tribesmen in the Fort, the unclean ones were very happy and arranged a holiday. A full-fledged feast didn’t work out, since food supplies were already scarce, but the unclean Desmod and Marbas brought enough booze and all kinds of substances to get stoned with, and that was the main thing. Throughout the night, to loud music, the unclean bawled songs, arranged friendly competitions and danced with the bear. They kept the entire Fort awake with their noise, endless drunken shouts and howls. But Lis didn’t interfere in this action, because the day before from a man sent to the east, Marmer, a carrier pigeon flew in with a report that everything was calm in Ore town. No preparations for war were visible, no walls were being fortified, and there was no movement of any allied forces. The city continued to live an idle peaceful life, and Kudmer took no action to defend himself. This news greatly encouraged Lis and calmed his nervous condition.