In good society

15. 07. 2013
6th international conference of exopolitics, history and spirituality

That day I had thirty miles in my legs, and I set out for a trip before dawn over Klohariánské forests. It's been just five or six days that I've done it and signed up for my condition. Whoever set out Kulah's borders, essentially some states within the sovereign realm, knew why to lead them through the worst-accessed places. If you've come across steep mountain ranges, wide lakes, shattered rivers, muddy canyons, or impenetrable forests in my case, you could almost be sure that you will find a more odd country behind them than the one you are so regretted .

When he thought about it, he almost said, as if nature itself wanted the country to be divided just like that. But that was just a turn-by-turn, because in reality no one could think of it. To get such an idea at all, he would need a map. And he could not have been there simply because someone had to create it first and all such works were carefully guarded in the bowels of the Lunian capital, in the middle of Tukatu, the capital city of our enlightened ruler.

However, 'Tukatush' was merely an established name that originated in ancient languages. Officially, the metropolis invited otherwise, but none of the ordinary people knew or admitted it, because the use of Noble Speech by the Unnamed - the poor - was punished. Cutting out the tongue, as usual. Which was a milder punishment than for holding a map for which an eye was drawn, or copying it (eye and hand), but it was still enough that the living majority would not play on something that wasn't. Logically, it was a little nonsense, for the noble speech was so complicated, and the names in it so frantic, that nobody who did not have to deal with it. However, order was order and maintaining a firm hierarchy was a matter of utmost seriousness.

As far as the maps are concerned, originally, both eyes were making copies, but such a person could not work well and pay taxes. According to research by social experts, his life was on the edge of efficiency. The experts, as they themselves called themselves, were mostly spiritual, because they often did not have anything to do that would prove useful. Given that the government of commissioning in their wisdom suppressed everything that did not bring the world of prosperity and prosperity, the law of eyewitnesses was amended. With one hand, the man still worked disproportionately more than the one with both hands but without eyes. He did not pay for the legs.

I had the extraordinary opportunity to see the map, indeed Map, once seen. In fact, I studied her. I had to. I spent several weeks in a locked but well-lit room, so that I could remember every detail of her. Cities, fortresses, their names, paths, boundaries, distances between them and all topography. The room where the Map was studied was secret and was called the Map Room. It was the only complete and complete map, and it was huge. The room was huge, because if it were not, the observer would only see the bottom edge. There was a need for a distance.

Because of the quality of secrecy, there were no windows anywhere, but the lights were like the noon. My question about this phenomenon has remained largely unexplained. In the middle of the stone floor was a single piece of furniture consisting of a dark red rug and pillows. They were already dilated. There was a double entrance door in one far corner, and in the corner opposite the toilet. Going into the room was only once in a lifetime, and with her abandonment, a promise of lifeless secrecy was imposed on you, otherwise you know what. There was not much room for inquiries in general over the past centuries.

It was clear to me that I would not be coming that day. Where the eye saw, a peaceful, humid hill spread. I appreciated that this time, my journey led me to places where grass and other green things grew on the ground. The sun set for a hill on the right, and I realized again how great I was hungry. What I came out of the forest I did not encounter a single settlement. On the way I met only a few lonely settlements, mostly pastoral, but they were too far to return.

I wondered if I could make a living on a human dwelling before I was completely silent. I sat down and said I would meditate on it. After all, there was dusk, and therefore a time of obligatory prayer to our Lord, the only, all-powerful creator and life-protector - Hulahulaukan.

So I have the text, with all humility, naturally, and calmed my mind so that it may merge with divine wisdom for the time to show me the right direction. Then I got up and continued straight.

It did not take two more hours for me to give up the word of thanks. I saw a small orange light over the black curve of the horizon. As if at that distance he heard the wood burst and the kettle bubbled over the fire. I crossed the elevation in front of me, the cold stream and the steep valley behind him, and rushed to the building.

Recognizing the smoke above the roof and the dark outline of the cottage, I slowed to a weighted pace. After all, one of the basic pilgrim's rules teaches: "You never know who is watching." This was true of hearing and feeling, but the third wasn't much said.

There were several voices from the bowels. At least one was female, which is usually a good sign. Before I knocked my door on my door, I looked behind the house. That was another rule. Then I listened. There seemed to be a good mood inside. Although I could not determine the topic of the talk for a short while, it was not about anything violent or suspicious. I put on the most trusted expression I made and repeatedly knocked the end of a stick with a thick plank. Voices subsided, typical. Then came the faint silent sneak and thrust, and after a moment the door opened.

First the lamp came out, followed by the arm, and then the head. It was the woman. She had dry, hard features, her hair casually pulled back. "Traveler?" She said, looking me up and down. "Are you a monk or something?"

“Yes, lady, peaceful evening! A wandering monk looking for shelter tonight and something to eat. I sat and meditated, and providence led me to your doorstep. ”I bowed.

"That was a providence," she laughed. “Indeed, the hospitality of a monk brings benediction under the roof and the smile of the Lord. Even the desire of abundance, ”she lifted the forefinger of the other emerging hand“ if He gives His mercy. ”

I gave my respectful attention.

"It's been months since the last monk passed this way!" She continued. Then she eased her enthusiasm and her eyes narrowed. "You're bringing us a blessing, I hope?"

“I bring, only with an empty stomach is difficult to bless. It doesn't have the right strength. ”

The woman laughed and finally invited me.

The yellow light obstructed me as a warm tide. The flames of the flames were running out of the unbroken stone walls. The fireplace was in the middle of the room with a paved floor, and four men and another woman sat around it. I greeted

and bowed. "May I lay down next to the door?" I asked, but did not wait for an answer. I dropped my travel cloak from my shoulders, leaned the cane against the wall, and hung one, larger and heavier bag on the peg.

"Oh, sure!" Exclaimed the hostess, who was putting the lamp on the ledge. Then she took a wooden bowl from the shelf and approached the fireplace. She picked up a thick hot mixture from a large cauldron and handed it to me.

"Please, please sit down with us!" They invited me over each other as I thanked for the food. I slid the smaller bag behind my back and sat down.

"It seems that a selected company has gathered here today!" One of them laughed. “Let me introduce us. Maybe we're just plain Unnamed, but we still know what's right! ”A tall man with longer black hair and a leather tunic shouted. One by one he introduced himself as a peasant, a shepherd, a carpenter with a woman who came from a nearby village, and himself as a stonemason. The hostess was his consort. I usually dropped the names, I knew I wouldn't need them. No one would expect a Chaplain representative to call the Unnamed names. However, this did not reduce their obligation to provide information about themselves to the representatives of the state organization. In fact, any information if asked.

I stood up and looked friendly. “And I'm a monk on the go. Bulahicr my name, which is not important, ”I added humbly. "I'm happy to be here tonight."

"That's wonderful!" The carpenter's wife cried, lean and blond hair. “I've never seen a wandering monk before! Do you have a lot of adventure on the go? ”The carpenter elbowed her in order not to be disrespectful, but she ignored it. "Little of what happens in the wider region will bring us to the settlers."

“I wander the world, visit places of pilgrimage, and practice in the humble service of the Lord and the Chapel. I help where it is needed and, if necessary, I teach his Order. I can heal the body and soothe spirit diseases. But your eager ears will probably disappoint you. On the roads I meet mainly wild animals, here and there buyers. I left the capital many years ago, flourishing, and I have no doubt that it continues to flourish in the hands of our enlightened monarch. Trade flows between the regions, the fields give birth and orchards bloom. Ombudsmen pass through countries and intervene where necessary. Bandits and traps are in at least three hundred years. That's just out of earshot, but because I'm on my own

none, I have no reason not to believe. We live in blessed times and we should be grateful for that! ”

A peasant, a wrinkled and skinny guy with a beard, entered the conversation. But he did not raise his eyes from the fire. “What about the barbarians of the northern wastelands? They just disappeared? ”

"Where does he know?" She thought. The states in the northern empire really had a problem with them. Unknown tribes made rapid and accurate invasions deep into the interior. They were carrying more than crop and cattle with them, and they were increasingly bold.

"It is possible that once the steps take me to the Outer Border," I took a dramatic pause. “But she is well guarded. The reinforcements for crews on defensive bastions flow regularly north. I have no doubt that the borders are safe and the defense of the empire is strong. There is no cause for concern! ”

"Does anyone have a taste for pickled vegetables?" The stonemason's wife turned from her cupboard as her knife clattered. "I have a few glasses forged for such precious occasions." The offer met with enthusiastic acceptance.

I asked for openness and asked them not to spoil my presence with my presence. I quietly enjoyed the food and listened to their conversation. They talked about the many banalities in the life of ordinary people, and with the slander they were defaming competitors in their craft and neighbors.

"Friends," I held up my hands after tens of minutes of pointless gossiping, "advanced in the evening, and what fun it would be without a sip of good leaven!" I reached to my waist and shook a yellow gourd in which the liquid splashed. “I carry it from a distance. A gift from the Turukus Administrator Rovahorín. ”Empty glances. “You don't know who I'm talking about? Turukuss is the capital of a neighboring country, hundreds of miles south of the Kloharian forests. I will be happy to share with you if you share with me your daily fluid! ”

"I had no idea," Mrs. Carpenter jumped on the bench, "that the monks are allowed to drink alcohol!", Earning another twitch from her husband.

“It is necessary to receive the gifts of the Lord when they come to us. They are a symbol of his hospitality. And the cold is still one of the strongest enemies on the road if it has nothing to warm you up! ”I radiated my good mood to the surroundings. “I left the comfort and warmth of the Chapel to serve better and learned that sometimes it was necessary to take various precautions to survive in the interests of

I raised my forefinger. "If you don't tell me, I won't tell you either," I smiled.

"You won't say what?" The stonemason raised an alarmed thick eyebrow. I looked around and sucked the air from the room deeply into my lungs. It was a mixture of smoke, aroma from food and those involved, but when you know what to look for, you will find. “Is it illegal alcohol? Probably Pálice, I guess. Homemade? After all, it is a good way to improve its sales before winter and without taxes. ”

They were silent and stared. Then the stonemason laughed grimly and stood up. “Woman! Bring the cups and the jug from the chamber. ”Then he turned to me. “You will see for yourself that the seal on the pitcher is genuine! Just real state wine. ”He urged his wife to act. "How should we engage in such activity when state vineyards supply us with such quality."

"Sure," I waved. “Excuse the stray monk a little joke. Even a man of faith likes to have fun and laugh when he rarely has the opportunity to do so. Please don't blame me. ”With a short squeak, I pulled the stopper out of the gourd's throat and poured a pint of gold liquid into each cup. "Enjoy it!"

While everyone was enjoying a strong taste they were not used to, and their impressions were rudimentary, I glanced out of the corner of my eye on the jug that was already on the cupboard. The seal on it was really right. Nevertheless, the traces of burning crushed granule, which I often used to produce home-made alcohol, I could recognize almost anywhere. It was a crystalline mineral with a strong bitter taste and aroma. Its burning left little yellowish spots, especially on wooden beams around the smoke removal roofs. After all, from my childhood, I had more than enough memories of such production. So only until my family had been given to the Koreers.

The magic drink from my pumpkin, as I confidentially told him, was really miraculous, and he was an invaluable helper on the road. It was not a gift of an administrator, but an old recipe. I just allowed it to be improved by a mixture of several convenient herbs, whose composition I kept filing during my journey. In the right amount, he could tell even the most gruff silence and the next day make him a window that he had to ask a neighbor for his own name.

I was always happy about the soul when the fun awoke and the troubled shyness of the prosecutor disappeared from the present. It is no surprise when people are open to each other.

In order to further disperse the remnants of tension, I began to tell of my origins. It was shortly after all the master stonemasons had filled our cups for the third time with his legally acquired jug. My listeners attracted great attention when I confided that they were just the Korers, who made a premature period in my childhood. Korers nobody liked.

The corrector is something like the sovereign's extended arm. It is an executive and often a judicial power. The corrector represents the eyes and ears of the state. It is an information channel that feeds news from the whole realm. Certainly, to a large extent, thanks to them, it is relatively safe on the road. Not as much as public opinion says.

The empire is great, and individual states usually have enough resources to settle order on their territory, but that is not enough. If a ruler has to maintain his sovereign government, he needs sovereign power. That is why the country is cruising men and sometimes women who are empowered to act and, if necessary, command. Powers granted either by the ruler or at least by one of his representatives. The trouble is that they do not always wear uniforms and do not always remain loyal to their mission. Some mistrust on the part of a simple person is just a healthy expression of an effort to survive.

"Why did you join your own enemies, then?" Asked the bearded peasant, who spoke the least of all, frowning the most.

“After my older brother and I were left alone in the burned house, we buried our parents. Nobody helped us. They were scared. I hated them all for that time, but time changes many things. We left and survived as much as we could. I swore revenge on the Proofreaders. Little baby crazy idea. After some time we ended up with one band. It was only a few poor souls who had lost hope. They stole whatever they could, sometimes killing someone. But there was one who led them. He took us and replaced our father for several years with his brother. He taught us many useful things, but eventually ended up just like the others - on the tip of the concealer's sword. It was a massacre when they came to us. They wanted to kill both of us. My brother was defending me and of course he didn't survive, then there was none other than me.

I don't know how many, but there was a monk among them. I remember hitting his staff between my head and the blade that was coming down from above. He stood up for me, said I was too young, and the Chapel would take care of my sin otherwise. ”

"So how did you become a monk?" The carpenter's wife spoke after a long time, staring at me, apparently impressed by my story.

"Yes. My soul has found peace and, after some time, the power to forgive. Though these are painful memories, I do not blame the men who took my parents' lives and later my robbery companions. After all, they only served such noble goals as I did. ”

There was a moment of silence, into which several logs cracked in the hearth. After a long time, the stonemason's wife spoke again: "We are all grateful that we can live here peacefully and avoid such inconveniences." She smiled, stood up and adjusted the fire with the poker. Then she moved away, probably for more fuel.

"I'd like it to stay that way," the stonemason muttered.

I smiled. "It seems like a kind region full of nice and generous people." I picked up the goblet and circled it in honor of the hosts. "Believe me, if I have the opportunity, I will only spread praise for you." I drank the rest of the liquid from my glass and stood up. "Yes yes, now is the time!" I pulled a chain from the stern with the symbol of the sun, in which the palm was open and in its center the eye, the symbol of our Lord, the god Hulahulaukan. The unnamed often called him Hula.

The housekeeper just returned with a few more logs that she folded at the back wall. I took the chain from my neck, grabbed it in my hand, kissed and blessed in all directions. I blessed this dwelling and the people in it. I have spoken a few saintly words to attract divine attention to this house and to bring enough for the next few years.

Surely she had passed midnight. "Friends!" I threw my hands. “I am grateful to you for your hospitality and the unforgettable company that you have diversified on my endless journey. Thank you, ”I bowed toward each of them.

"Now, if a corner is found for me, I'll put my head back in the early morning and I won't bother you with my presence anymore."

The cub was found in the next room. There was also a mattress and a blanket, which was a luxury that was not usual.

"I have already prepared everything," said the housekeeper, after wishing the company a good night and thanking once again. Then I disappeared into the darkness

between the four walls that only a few rays of moon had penetrated. He sank into the blanket and closed his eyes.

All day of march and conversation long into the night. I was completely exhausted. The alcohol I felt in my head did not help too much either. I felt the painful sleep that lay on me. While I was breathing regularly, I listened to the muffled voices.

Only the morning sky was visible through the narrow window. The fresh air flowed in and there was silence. I lay on my mattress and watched the calming color for a moment. I knew I had to get up and continue. I stretched, walked to the window, and looked outside. "It looks like it's going to be good travel today," I thought. I was so supple that I lost my alertness. I opened the door, walked into the main room, and immediately tripped over a heavy log that had been left there.

"Ah, damn ..." I swore. I forgot I left him there and tripped over him again. I was so tired, I just couldn't make myself tidy. Actually, it wasn't the log I left there, it was the peasant. I thought I'd have breakfast first. Cleaning will wait a moment.

Much has left since dinner. The taste was spoiled only by the smell of burnt flesh on the carpenter's hand, which fell somewhat miserably over the raised edge into the fireplace. It was my fault, I didn't notice. Now I had his charred skin right in front of my eyes. "All right," I replied. This part of my work didn't bother me.

I chewed still lukewarm pieces of stewed poultry and looked around for the mess surrounding me. "I'm not going to clean up the splashes on the walls."

I finished. Reluctantly, I put the bowl down and straightened. A crack in my back. "So, monk?" I asked myself.

I stood with my hands on my hips surrounded by bodies. “Probably pulling them out one by one. What else? ”So I dragged them outside the house. The pastoral effort to escape I appreciated only retroactively. He was certainly the hardest of all and he would give me a hard time. Fortunately, he had been on the porch for several hours. As I woke through my memories of last night, it occurred to me that I had never seen a herdsman so fattened before. In fact, he did not seem to me at all to be a shepherd, but rather to a butcher. He was also quite mobile as long as he could. That shook my head.

I was a little sorry for the carpenter. After all, she was the only one against when the others talked about how best to get rid of me.

"No," she urged her husband. "That's not necessary."

"Shut up, goose!" He hissed at her.

It's been a few tens of minutes since I was down. The stonemason sent his wife to listen for a moment with her ear pressed against the door.

"I can't hear anything," she whispered.

"All right," he said. “Maybe he's a monk, and maybe everything he said was true. Maybe not. But I am not going to risk it. ”He looked at everyone individually.

The farmer pulled his sleeve on his shirt to remind others of his deep scar on his forearm, which remained as a memory of his encounter with the previous holy man. “It's been a long time since we've done a monk. And the last one was not defenseless. ”

The shepherd, who was mostly silent, looked at the bag for a long time, hung on a peg next to the front door. "I wonder what he is pulling around."

The carpenter took the words: “We don't know how long he sniffed before he got here. When he sniffed that we were making Pálice, he might have noticed the other… ”he gestured chin significantly behind the house to emphasize a hint at something that wasn't talked about.

"If we let him go, the Proofreaders will show up soon. That's clear, "the stonemason concluded.

"I don't think he was dangerous," the carpenter's wife sighed. "Why keep him here a little tomorrow and treat him nicely. He definitely has acquaintances. I have heard that the Chapel sends contributions to those whom the monks mention well. It would also dispel the suspicions of people from the village… "

"How can you be so stupid!" His husband demanded. She lowered her head. "Wait a minute and I'll send you to the underworld right behind him!"

Already in the door of my arrival, the housekeeper seemed to be the impression of a determined woman. Silently she opened the socket now and pulled out a long knife for slicing root vegetables. His blade flashed in the light of the fire.

"True," said the stonemason. "It's your turn this time."

The fat shepherd grinned. "Ala, I'll cut him."

"Nobody takes that from you," the carpenter silenced him.

The stonemason nodded to the woman, and she slowly and quietly opened the door.

It is always good to have two luggage with you. People soothe when you let your load lie somewhere outside your reach and then tend to ignore your second needle. It also does not make a good impression if you do not move away from anything that can be used as a weapon, such as your travel stick. In short, they are less cautious.

Even though it was my wish to just spend the night quietly, the Lord has many intentions with you. Forcing sleep all the while was tiring. I urged them, if they wanted to do anything, to do it quickly. That's why I was very pleased with the faint spins of the swinging hinges.

But it was all different. Just a moment earlier, I jumped out of the mattress and quickly shuffled the blanket to confound the attacker, at least at first glance. I thought it was thick enough to make it go. The dark color of my work was also not useless.

I pressed my back in a corner, barely a meter from the window. There was the shadow darkest. He pulled his hood over his head and covered his pale skin. With my hand, I opened a small bag that I kept in my waist and pulled out my asshole. He hid it in the fold of a wide sleeve, so that by chance she did not bounce off a little of the moonlight inside her and did not breathe.

"One… two… three…," I heard the approaching foot silently.

She flicked her pale arm down the pale pale stream, and grabbed the blanket. The blade shimmered whitely.

Sudden breath and surprise. Then nothing. The blade of my throwing knife burst into the housekeeper's sleep. I rushed to her as fast as I could to capture her falling body. I directed him and let him fall silently on the mattress.

Pulling the knife locked into the skull was a certain delay.

"What's next?" My head flashed. Fortunately, the window was wide enough for me to stretch through. That gave me an advantage and a moment of surprise. I walked around the house and pressed against the front door. A moment of silence.

"What's taking her so long?" Said one.

"Go see it," the other growled. The pickaxe roared and footsteps sounded.

Now is the right moment. In a few seconds it will be too late.

I opened the door. The stonemason jumped first and ran to the gun cradle. He stiled it, but he did not come back. The same blade that overturned the plan

his wife, and his wife. There was a dull bump from his top, and then a shot as he struck a massive worktop.

Meanwhile, the carpenter leaned toward the wall, but the poacher was gone. Only the ash scoop is left. He gripped her like a club and headed straight to me, jumping across the bench, dropping his wife to the ground.

The only weapon in my reach was my sticks, which had been patiently waiting in place. I reached for her, bounced the first blow with a blade, and the other end struck the man in the back. He flinched but attacked again. I grasped my hand as if I wanted to tear her in two. A long straight blade slipped out of her, and the end of the stick was her hilt. I was surprised. Tesar's determination was cool. But it was too late. The bottom of the stick in my left hand struck him in the face, and while losing his balance, the blade of the sword passed through it from the left side to the right shoulder. It was then when his hand went into the flames and began to roast.

Meanwhile, the peasant had been able to return from his discovery mission to my bedroom and tossed me to my side with the fat shepherd. I did not notice where he came to him, but the thunderbolt had a chopper in his hand. Big chopper.

I was a little disappointed with the idea that they would stand against me at once. I swung the sword and released my palm. The slim band of metal screamed through the air and traversed the farmer just below the sternum. Additionally, I figured I hurled him too violently, forcing the galloping man in the direction of the flight and pinning him to the wooden doorbell. Technically, that was a mistake, not only did I voluntarily disarm, but I could also destroy my weapon if it hit a stone's edge in the wall.

Several times my chisel passed through my head. There and back, back and forth. I jumped as I did. I kicked the punch with the remaining part of my stick, but I just gained some time. I had to get to my sword. As I stood up and retreated, I tried to get his right hand behind his back somewhere. Managed. I threw a hilt, the weapon loosened, and the pinned body slid to the floor. It left a bloody smudge like a slug slime on the wall behind it.

Somehow I swung against the chopper. I did not know how. Suddenly, however, he took off in a different direction. Her hand flew with him. The attacking shepherd began screaming and running away. The justice caught him up in front of the house.

Suddenly there was silence. I stood above the big body and looked around. It was a cold night, and the stars glowed so clearly. I pounded my lungs with some full sips of refreshing air.

There was a carpenter crawling around the house and probably looking for the sharpest thing in her neighborhood. She found it, but her own thick hand refused to let her go.

I went back to the house. I wiped the blade for a piece of cloth I found on the edge of the bench. I did not know what to do with her. She was terrified to death. She barely stood on her feet as she shivered. She held her forearm with her two hands, and she waved in front of her a chisel that held his fingers so hard. She was poor from blood.

I leaned my back against the cupboard. "I guess I could arrange for them to send you some compensation from headquarters. Unless, of course, someone started snooping around here and discovered the buried corpses behind the house. And also the Drum. But you could easily get away with it if someone testifies in your favor. It's not your house after all. You might even excuse yourself from those corpses, but they would probably ask a lot of questions. So what?"

She was looking at the trigger around her, and she was obvious she could not think.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She hesitated. Then she stammered, "Lucimina."

"You look like a nice lady, Lucimino. You stood up for me when the others wanted to kill and slice me. Do you have kids?"

"Two." Tears welled up in her eyes.

I thought. "When I get to the nearest police station, I can send a message that you helped me in an emergency and ask for some money for your children. When I make up a story and you testify to them… "

"No!" She shouted. "The Proofreaders will come, they will ask. People don't like us because of our husband. They're talking terrible things about us. "

"I guess terrible things were happening here," I interrupted.

"I didn't want to, he got me involved. We had nothing to live on. But they will betray me and the children will take me! ”

"Probably yes. But the proofreaders will not come. "

But despite my sobs and despair, she almost did not hear me. They probably were bad about that. It was clear that if someone really started to ask, despite me

she would not receive any money and the children might have taken it away. The children of the criminals are not treated well. If, of course ... I thought of how out of it.

"How much do you care about your children?"

For a moment, she was crazy about something, but I understood that most of all.

"I'll make them feel good."

That may have been an exaggerated statement, so I corrected myself, "Well, at least they'll have a future."

I had the feeling that he was listening to me again, or at least trying to.

"But I have to do what it takes. You too. Here…, ”I reached into the bag behind my back and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper. "Can you write?" She nodded. I laid them on the bench in front of her and told them to write their children's names and birth dates there.

It took her a while to finally drop her hand with a chopper and start to do something useful. The script was terribly shaken, but it could be read.

"Thanks," I said. I approached her, kneeling in front of the bench, leaning over the paper and crying.

"Your children will be taken care of. Don't worry about them. "

She looked up at me with those bloody and red-eyed eyes. There were full incomprehensible hopes. I put my hand on my shoulder and the blade in it dipped as deep as it could. She did not shout. She breathed and dropped her head on the bench. Between her knees a dense puddle began to form immediately. It looked strange.

I took the name paper and tried not to blot them out. Then I had to clean the sword again. Last time.

Now I could easily modify the report for her benefit. Send him in the nearest town on the Command and ask for the children to take over the children. With their mother's heroic act, who killed one of those criminals herself and saved my life, they really had a chance. Fortunately, I knew that my report would have sufficient weight in itself so that no one could investigate it anymore. Once they can become servants, soldiers, spiritual or they can be just like me - Korekers.

Looking at the trigger around me, however, I thought I'd rather be the monk I was doing so successfully. From time to time, at least. I was so tired. So much. I yawned. He drove back to his bedroom and for the first time stumbled over a farmer stretched out between the door. To pull a dead housekeeper from his bed was a superhuman task. I just threw a mattress and

he let her roll into the corner. I stood a bit beside and slept hard until the late morning.

When I put all six bodies neatly apart, I resisted the urge to simply burn them. Generally, I do not like to make a decision. I tried to search the house for a while, and if I did not find the necessary tools, I would light them. Unfortunately, I found both a bucket and a shovel.

I found it quite convenient to bury them directly in front of the house. Not deep. Nevertheless, the sun was still on the zenith when I was done. It was a relief because the burned hand was smelt in the fresh air, and the chopped hand was beginning to tend, too. In spite of that, the worms and other parasites did not take long before they discovered it.

I drew low mounds and made a simple table for her poor lady with her name and a wish for a quiet rest. I prayed for the undisturbed journey of their souls through the underworld and a successful return to the creator.

All that remained was to leave a message on the door for passers-by and possible survivors. I made a golden color, the ingredients of which belong to the obligatory equipment of every Proofreader on the road, and on the front door I wrote an official header beginning with the words: A brief description of the crime and the accused and convicted persons followed. Then just a warning to vandals and other subversive elements who would like to remove the inscription and finally the date. The last line read, as usual: "Performed by: Odolak Bulahičr Travel Proofreader."

Finally, I attached and dyed an official metallic template with the state emblem and the order sign that sent me for the trip.

It was done.

Before I left, I searched for chests, cabinets, and drawers, but besides a smaller supply of food and a Bottle flask placed under the lid in the pantry, I did not need anything.

I had only a light meal, but it was always blatant when burying, but I did not want to take a hard step.

He started a pleasant afternoon. Beneath the hill on the right side of the slope, I saw a thin line of excursion. It will surely lead me to the nearest village or

city. That's where I send the message to the headquarters. When nothing happens, in a few weeks, fresh orphans will be on their way to Tukatu.

Then I may be able to go back to my main mission and turn my steps towards the northwest. I was glad my little delay had the sense that something useful might come out of it. It was not so bad at last. And I usually like to make my way happy with the memories of the merry moments spent in good society.


Continuation: Close meetings

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