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Our grandchildren and fathers are proud of us!
The marquis boy sang well, just wonderful. Although the song was not from that opera, and from another time. And in general, not entirely appropriate at this point. But he sang with pleasure and feeling, and this is already excellent.
Several riders on black horses and in armor rode up to Julius. The largest of them, in a gilded helmet, sternly asked:
- What is it to eat here? What are you, a foreigner?
Julius boldly replied:
- If yes, then what!
The brute remarked:
- Your clothes are luxurious, but you go on foot, not on a horse. And why is that?
The marquis boy answered ironically:
But why,
It is impossible to live in the mind
But why,
You can't trust anyone
Why, life does not teach us anything,
Why, why, why!
Gromila noted:
- We will arrest you and send you to the torture cellar. There the executioners will find out who you are. Maybe even a spy!
Julius replied in a harsh tone:
- I'm the Marquis de Caesar!
The head of the guards growled:
- Show me the document!
The boy reached for his belt. He then knew that in this world, he was a marquis from a noble family. But this still needs to be proven. And show a document with a stamp.
But there was no document. Like a beautiful white horse. The boy remembered that he had left the horse and the document and the weapon as a pledge with the vampire Hess. Why?
The vampire released the captive children for this. And he had to return the deposit if Julius could find the magic snuffbox that this bloodsucker sorcerer sowed somewhere in this city.
Julius expected to figure it out, but this mission flew out of his head. That's how it happened.
And now the boy was in a difficult position. Without documents, no one will believe him. And clothes can be stolen, just like gold.
The guards, seeing Julius' confusion, dismounted from their horses. Hastily searched the boy, took the gold. They also tore off an expensive camisole and smart boots. After that, they tied the boy.
And barefoot, in one shirt and rolled up trousers, with a rope around his neck, they led him to the castle.
Julius felt humiliated. He is led like a dog, or a slave on a leash. Moreover, the hands are tied behind the back, which hurts, and the hands, and the elbows, and the shoulders are numb and painfully ache.
Yes, and the pavement street of the medieval city is very dirty, and horse and cow cakes are scattered along it. Which is very disgusting.
The boy's bare soles are rather elastic and callused. They have not yet had time to pamper and soften. Rather, he suffers from the loss of expensive and shiny boots morally than physically.
But it's disgusting to feel robbed. And as if you are no longer a marquis, but a commoner.
The boy walked, slapping his bare feet, his mood was not major.
However, to lighten the mood a little, one could sing. But nothing came to mind. It's like the inspiration has been turned off. And a complete lack of enthusiasm.
Julius sighed even harder. The old, barefoot girl in a tattered, impoverished dress suddenly ran up to him and chirped:
- Are you a prisoner?
The guard shouted at the child:
- Back off! We're bringing a spy in for questioning!
The girl murmured:
- Wow! But it's so interesting!
The head guard remarked:
- If you want the executioner to roast your heels, then you can come with us. Perhaps you are his accomplice?
The girl replied:
- No! I see him for the first time. But he is still a boy, and are you really going to fry his soles with fire?
The head guard nodded.
- Certainly! Our executioners are professionals. And waiting for the boy and the rack, and the whip, and red-hot tongs!
The girl chirped:
But it's so cruel!
- We will flog you now! - And the guard swung at the girl with a whip. She jumped back and rushed to run, flashing her bare, pink heels.
Julius took a deep breath. His mood was not major. And now it's completely messed up.
Here the boy was brought to the fence with sharp spears on top. Here was the building of the city prison. And this is a real fort. In the prison yard, they just flogged a girl. She was quite beautiful, although somewhat thin and bony. And the whip of the executioner whipped her on her bare back. The torturer himself was in a red robe, and rather fleshy and massive.