“What do you need?” Arel asked first, his brown eyes shining brightly from the narrow slits of the mask.
Kors shuddered, as if with difficulty breaking away from the bewitching action, averted his eyes, from the unclean economic dog, looked at Arel:
“You don’t take off your mask at all now,” he said more caustically than questioningly, “just like your Nikto?”
“Do you need anything?” Arel repeated. “Nik said that you can address me if you need something. Only on business.”
“Yes, of course, I came on business,” threw Kors irritated, “do you really think that I came to you just to chat? I need a map of the village, if there is one, of course. And the surroundings. All surroundings.”
Kors went to the table at which Arel was sitting, and bent down, examining the book lying in front of the prince. The book was open.
“You are reading?!” Kors’ surprise knew no bounds, and now he looked very sincere. “Prince Arel, are you reading?! What is it? A textbook?”
Kors reached out and took the book, Arel didn’t stop him, and Ver, too, silently continued his meaningless, short-lived work.
“Everything is clear,” Kors chuckled, looking at the cover. “It's unclean language. You are studying unclean. All’s clear! Does Nikto make you do it? Well, how are you doing?” He put the textbook in place and took the sheet on which Arel tried to write in unclean.
Kors read aloud:
“My Demon Nik. We are together. I, Prince Arel and my Demon Nik, we love each other with love.”
And Kors laughed:
“We love each other with love?! This is cool, Arel! It seems that you can’t master unclean the same way as all other sciences.”
Arel turned away, standing up. His long dark hair covered his back, and when it was not visible that faceless black leather of a mask was on his face, he was again the same Prince Arel. Tall, thin, graceful, he walked over to the closet and took out a bunch of keys from a drawer. And then he turned around, and the magic disappeared, the mask that covered his handsome face spoiled everything, depriving the main thing for which he was nicknamed the handsome prince. And Kors lowered his gaze, he didn’t mock anymore, seeing that Arel didn’t react.
“Here are the keys,” Arel said, “my servant Valentine will take you to my father’s office. I don't know exactly what is there. See what you want if you don't have enough of what Nik left you.”
Verniy began to polish the candlestick slightly smoked with a candle.
Kors went out.
A few hours later, closer to the evening, he again disturbed the prince. There were now three candles burning in the room in shining candlesticks, wax dripping again onto the freshly cleaned surface. Arel was lying on the bed on top of the covers on his side, he got up when he saw Kors again. Verniy thundered with basins in the adjoining room.
“Prince Arel, I apologize for disturbing you,” Kors began.
“Yes?” Arel straightened the hair that fell on his face, obscuring the anyway narrow slits for his eyes.
“I found a little new in the office, really. Apparently, your Nikto or Lis have already searched everything and got what you need. But I still wanted to look at some of the maps, but they are closed in tubes and I need a key. Key-seal to open the tube,” Kors lifted the metal cylinder he had brought with him, beautifully engraved.
“Hm…” Arel drawled in confusion, “I don't remember where it is. Nik opened something with them, yes…”
