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.”
