Cinderella and Alangazar - страница 7

Freed an entire village on his own by lifting a fallen tower onto his shoulders and holding it while the children escaped.

Once, like in a tale, he spoke to a bird, who guided him to the enemy’s heart.

Calm as a mountain lake – but in fury, a storm.

Wise, a man of few but thoughtful words.

Respects women, elders, and children.

Believes true strength is in the heart, not the fist.

Cinderella.Cinderella’s camp.

Morning began with its usual hustle in Cinderella’s camp.

Soldiers were marching, orders rang out sharply, and someone had already dropped a steaming kettle of buckwheat stew in the mess hall. Cooks were cursing, recruits slipping in porridge, and Alangazar was wiping cabbage off the wall, looking guilty.

When Cinderella stepped into her headquarters, everyone snapped to attention.

She wore impeccable military attire: a dark blue coat with golden buttons, a belt with a crest, and polished boots.

The uniform not only conveyed command – it suited her. Especially the elegant officer's beret with an emerald clasp.

– Stand down. Documents on the table, – she said calmly.

First on her desk was Alangazar’s leave request. As per protocol, the giant was due rest after the latest exercises.

She signed with a flourish – he beamed and rolled off toward the forest for firewood and fresh air.

Then entered her adjutant – a lean and diligent lieutenant named Guzel – with a new folder.

– Recruit paperwork: Lieutenant Ertoshtuk. Special request. His story is… quite unusual.

Cinderella flipped through the file. Amid reports and assessments, there was a letter – handwritten in a strong, elegant script.

It began:

“When I was a boy, a witch came to our aul. She told my father:

‘Give me the boy – and you may live.’

My father knew he couldn’t defeat her. But he didn’t give me to the witch – he gave me to fate.

He hid a dagger by the roadside and sent me after her, knowing the witch would wait in the form of an old woman…”

Cinderella raised an eyebrow and kept reading.

Young Ertoshtuk rode and saw an old woman sitting by the road, looking tired – like a kind granny from a story.

But something felt… wrong.

Then he spotted the gleam of a dagger hidden in the moss – his father's gift.

– Grandmother, could you hand me that dagger? – he asked politely.

– Boy, croaked the woman, if I sit, I won’t rise again… if I rise, I won’t sit again…

He didn’t dismount.

He leaned down, grabbed the dagger himself – and in that instant, the “granny” became a witch:

Her cloak turned into storm clouds, her hands into claws, her eyes flashed green fire.

He spurred his horse – they fled, the witch close behind.

– Earth, open! – he cried in desperation.

And the ground split open under the horse's hooves.

He fell into darkness – into the underworld of giants and flame serpents.

There, through trial and battle, he grew – in strength, in spirit, in skill.

When he emerged, he was no longer a boy – but a man, quiet-eyed and steady.

Now he had returned – and was requesting service in Cinderella’s army.

“And then, if you permit, I will return to my homeland…”

– the letter concluded modestly.

He never mentioned that he had fallen in love with Cinderella from the first tale he heard of her.

He simply ended with a beautiful, deliberate period.

Cinderella paused, a faint smile flickering across her face.

She closed the folder and placed it carefully in her drawer.