Dmitry Raspopov has been one of the most popular writers in the Russian segment of the Internet for a long time. All his works are dynamic and have an exciting plot with an unpredictable outcome. Raspopov does not advertise his life and is not a public person. Dmitry's works are mainly popular among young people under thirty.
biography and personal life
Dmitry Raspopov does not advertise his personal life and does not publish practically any information about himself. However, according to data from social networks it became known that Dmitry is married, and to this moment His place of residence is the city of Samara. He has his own personal website, where he shares his creative plans and communicates with readers. During the period of his literary creativity, he managed to attract the attention of literary critics and acquire a large number of fans.
Book series "Master of Blades"
Dmitry's first book, "Blade Master: The Beginning of the Journey," was published in 2009 and brought him fame. The story about a teenager who finds himself in another reality has won the hearts of many readers. Gradually, he published a continuation of the first novel, and thus a whole series of books “Master of Blades” appeared. Read the stories in this order:
- "Blade Master: The Beginning of the Journey"
- "The Master is Forged"
- "The master is forged."
The plot of the book "Blade Master: The Beginning of the Journey"
The plot of the fantasy novel is quite linear and tells about the adventures of a narcissistic and self-confident young man.
The author of the book "Master of Blades" describes the dreams and daydreams of many teenagers that arose after reading science fiction novels. A young guy finds himself in an unknown world after an unsuccessful visit to the restroom. The work has a rather interesting and intriguing beginning. Gradually, the eighteen-year-old teenager becomes a local influential aristocrat and also begins to understand local languages. In the middle of the book, the guy turns out to be the heir to a village estate. He surprises everyone with his intelligence, justice, and honesty. An ordinary Moscow boy, spoiled by his parents, selfish, just graduated from school, finds himself in a medieval fairy tale, where kings and nobles, barons and sorcerers, gnomes and orcs, slaves, peasants and shamans live.
Heroes of the work
The genre of the book "Master of Blades" obliges the author to create a variety of fictional characters to add suspense to the story. Maintaining the interest of a larger number of readers, of course, is the main goal of any author of adventure novels, including Dmitry Raspopov. Sword fights, the conquest of lands, as well as the abundance of otherworldly creatures plotting against each other add drama to the plot.
In Raspopov's novel "The Blademaster" there are rich landowners, magical creatures, as well as typical heroes who existed in medieval villages (the city blacksmith or priest). Raspopov used prototypes of real life figures to create believable characters for the epic novel. For example, George R.R. Martin used facts from the lives of the medieval families of York and Lancaster during the Wars of the Roses as inspiration for his own work, A Song of Ice and Fire. In creating heroes, Raspopov in The Blademaster follows in the footsteps of his famous predecessors.
Sequel to "Blade Master"
The continuation of the novel “The Master of Blades: The Blade is Forged” and “The Master is Forged” tells about the further path of a young man who has already become accustomed to a parallel magical reality. He will have to complete many tasks, including developing more advanced weapons to fight evil forces and enemies. Main character becomes a wise and brave person.
Genre and style of the book "Master of Blades"
In fact, all books by Dmitry Viktorovich Raspopov are adventure novels with elements of medieval fantasy, which have an incredibly exciting plot and interesting actors. Raspopov's books belong to the so-called “self-publishing”, that is, this is literature published without the participation of professional publishing houses and editors. A novel is a long fictional prose narrative. He has a close connection with real life, which distinguishes it from the medieval novel. In most European languages there is also such a term as a novel, which emphasizes the universality of this concept. All books by Dmitry Viktorovich Raspopov are quite easy to read and engage the reader. Currently, the author has written more than 10 books, including the “Emperor's Shadow” series, “Son of the Galaxy”, “Artisans of Souls”.
Medieval fantasy
The genre of "Blademaster" is traditional medieval fantasy. Many believe that Raspopov writes in this style to attract more readers, since this genre is extremely popular.
Medieval fantasy is a subgenre of fiction that covers the Middle Ages and is sometimes simply fictional versions historical events. This subgenre is common in European literature. It may include various elements traditional culture and society of the Middle Ages, including monarchical government, feudal social structure, medieval wars and mythical entities common to European folklore. Medieval fantasy is largely a collection of myths created by the peoples of Europe to explain natural phenomena and other events.
History of the medieval fantasy genre
Experts believe that the prototype of this genre was the medieval legends about King Arthur and the knights Round table. Many writers have been inspired by the mythological basis of these works. John Ronald Rowell Tolkien subsequently wrote his most famous fantasy novel, The Lord of the Rings, using elements of medieval life. In general, all works in the fantasy genre have a tinge of mystery. Tolkien's classic work "The Lord of the Rings" is an example of historical fiction.
Master of Blades 4. Blade Sharpened
Inquisition or lose everything? Death or finding a kidnapped wife? What's worse, old enemies or new ones? What is stronger, a legendary weapon or a created one? - all these questions will have to be answered by the hero of the new novel in the Master of Blades series - Maxim Kuznetsov, better known in the new world under the name of Viscount Maximilian...M. Eksmo, 2018
New fantasy action series
Scheduled release November 2018
ISBN 978-5-04-098397-1
Pages 352
The fourth novel in the Master of Blades series.
Illustration on the cover by O. Gorbachik.
Contents of the cycle:
4. Master of Blades. The blade is sharpened
Dmitry Raspopov. Master of Blades
If the ordinary Russian teenager Maxim had been told that he would soon become Baron Maximilian, if they had even hinted that he would have to participate in the palace intrigues of a large kingdom, if they had promised that the dwarves would welcome him and that he would soon rule his own castle... What would Maxim answer? Most likely, he would have decided that they had not made a very witty joke on him. But in vain...
Dmitry Raspopov. Master of Blades. The beginning of the way"
If you were told that in a year you would become a baron? If it were hinted that you would participate in the palace intrigues of a large kingdom? If they promised that the gnomes would host you? If they claimed that you would manage your castle and village? What would you answer?
Dmitry Raspopov. Master of Blades. The blade is forged
Surprisingly, the more I am in this world, the more the realization comes - everything I do is needed not only by me, but also by the people and gnomes around me. After all, by uniting two nations and forcing them to work towards one goal, I achieved amazing results, not to mention the fact that no one before me could simply bring them together. Therefore, now, while restoring the sword of the dwarf king, I have a question: did I end up in this world by accident?
Dmitry Raspopov. Master of Blades. The blade is forged
Baron Maximilian, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of His Majesty Numed III to the Throne of the Undermountain, the first thane of the earth - this is a complete list of titles that a simple teenager from Earth managed to acquire when he found himself in another world, but new adventures await him ahead, as well as an old promise to forge sword of the dwarf king. Will the hero cope with them? Can everything planned be fulfilled? After all, a descent into the cave of the blade masters awaits him - you will learn all this in the new book of the series - “The Blade Master. The blade is forged."
The third part of the series, one might even say, is long-awaited.)) Considering how long it all drags on. But it makes a strange impression. ((
Plot: the previous book ended with Max, who has proven himself to be a Master of Blades, immediately taken by the dwarves and sent to the dungeon to learn how to forge magic weapons. From this moment it begins. The author does not fall into fantasy templates - and it immediately turns out that it will not be easy. The elders of the dwarf clans, for whom Max’s activities are already disturbing their lives, conspire and wall him up in this very dungeon. But, of course (the author still does not deviate so much from the canon), the hero will overcome all obstacles and find a way out of a seemingly hopeless situation. He will discover the secret of the ancient Masters, master their technology, restore his position on the collective farm, where, of course, everything began to fall apart after his disappearance, and will lead a new large-scale campaign. The greedy elders are really fed up. This means their power must be overthrown. Long live communism and world revolution! literally. Max will organize a communist party and build socialism in a separate magical kingdom... Well, along the way, some events will still happen on the surface, since Max is still listed as an envoy to the dwarves and, therefore, must periodically appear with a report on his activities and gifts to the throne. Major disasters are brewing there too. But Max, having established himself among the ideologically correct gnomes, can still feel confident. In the finale, the initially set goal is even achieved - Max finally finds his way to the magicians... But at the same time, new opportunities open up again...
In theory, everything looks very interesting (although I perceive the trick with communism and revolution with great doubt). But somehow one gets the impression that the author himself has lost interest in his cycle. In fact, there was enough here before general descriptions, but now they are just going through the roof. Almost the entire book consists of these general descriptions. Looks like a plan diagram. This is how the hero organizes life on a collective farm, this is how he plans a revolution, this is how he studies ancient technologies and conducts experiments on them, this is how he distributes assignments among his comrades... There are very few episodes with ordinary action.
But at the same time, it doesn’t feel like this is the finale! Very strange. If the author is tired, why doesn't he finish? Why are new hooks and tails appearing again? A stunning new technology received from magicians, which the hero immediately begins to master with enthusiasm? Interesting plot devices - the hero's marriage and the imminent appearance of a child - this is interesting... supposed conspiracies and coups in the kingdom - this is all very voluminous? Strange, incomprehensible.
It’s good that we were attacked by nomads then,” he continued, “otherwise I had a wild desire to go back and clean up your face.”
“Well, a paladin with a black sword, in my opinion, is not bad,” I smiled broadly when he slightly pulled the sword out by the hilt and showed a black blade.
Okay, this has been a long time coming days gone by“,” he waved it off, pushing the sword back, “especially since he saved me more than once, so everyone got used to it in the end.” They were even interested in the master who creates such unsurpassed weapons. So what happened? Why are you here? If the head finds out that you are in the capital, you will be in trouble.
And you? - I looked sideways at him.
“I’ve become so absent-minded in my old age,” he chuckled, “I constantly forget everything.” It happens that I see someone, and in the evening I forget that I met him.
In general, I came for help,” I decided to tell him the truth, seeing that he was well disposed toward me and did not remember old grievances, “just promise not to do anything before the Duke of Walesa talks to your head.” He promised me to meet him today.
Is it that serious? - The Count immediately pulled himself together and began to remind me of his former self.
My pregnant wife was kidnapped by steel golems sent by magicians, who demanded a ransom for her in the form of a monthly tribute.
If I wanted to surprise and stun him, then I succeeded. The Count reminded me of a fish that was first thrown ashore and then also stunned with an oar.
That’s why I asked you to keep it secret,” I chuckled sadly.
Are you absolutely sure about this? - The Count looked at me seriously.
Steel golems, portals, visual messages from magicians, what else is needed to convince you of this? - I shrugged.
“Yes, well, you can surprise, Maximilian,” the count thought. “For the last two years, we have been faced with problems that could not be explained except by the intervention of magicians, but we carefully drove away this thought from ourselves, believing that this simply could not happen. But if the magicians have returned and are stirring things up again, then a lot becomes clear.
Have they really caused trouble in Shamora too? - It was my turn to be surprised.
Not them themselves, but their emissaries... now it’s clear where they came from for sale magic items and a series of incomprehensible deaths occurred.
So you think Brother Anthony will be interested in helping me?
I don’t even know, Maximilian, the head has a good memory, but last years relations with you were far from ideal, it’s right that he at least accepted priests.
Then I will once again ask you, Count, not to disclose anything that I told you until the Duke has conducted preliminary negotiations.
If Brother Anthony asks directly, I’ll tell you about our conversation,” he shook his head, “if not, then I’ll pretend that I’m hearing it for the first time.”
That's enough for me, Count, I was glad to see you again.
Mutually. Would you like me to introduce you to my friends? - he asked, nodding behind him.
Perhaps now is not the time for this; we must first wait for the outcome of the negotiations.
I agree, see you then?
We politely bowed to each other and went our separate ways, he returned to his entourage, and I returned to the house.
* * *
Mister Viscount. Mister Viscount. “They gently touched my shoulder, so I woke up, opened my eyes and looked at the maid in confusion.
“His Grace asks you to come to him,” she quickly jabbered, seeing that she had woken me.
Lead. - I rubbed my face with my palms to come to my senses, and, getting up, asked to pour water on my hands to rinse and cheer up, I didn’t want to go completely sleepy. Cold water brought me to my senses, and, having wiped my face with a hard towel, I fully woke up and hurried after the maid, who, as if especially for me, swayed her hips as she walked. Judging by the candles lit everywhere, as well as the complete darkness outside the windows, it was late.
Mr. Viscount, please, the owner is waiting,” the door of a familiar office was opened in front of me.
Good evening“Your Grace,” I greeted the Duke, who was sitting in his travel clothes, apparently not even having time to change after visiting the Inquisition.
Sit down, Maximilian. - He pointed to a chair next to his desk and thoughtfully continued: - There are good news both bad and I'm not even sure there are good ones.
How was your meeting with Brother Anthony? “I was surprised by his words, but decided to ask questions from afar.
In general, it’s very constructive,” he nodded to his thoughts, “as for you, I agreed: while you are in the capital, I am responsible for you and there will be no reprisals from the order against you.
But... - From his tone I realized that, as always, there was a reservation.
You don’t poke around anywhere and don’t visit anyone, the maximum you can come from your home is to me.
I didn't come here for fun anyway. - I shrugged. - What about the main thing? What did he say?
This is more difficult. - The Duke frowned. - Firstly, and this is strange, Brother Anthony listened carefully to my story about the events that took place and began asking about everything, down to the smallest detail. I thought they wouldn’t believe me or wouldn’t take my words seriously enough, but everything went differently, it seemed like they themselves had encountered magicians, I can’t explain his intense interest in anything else.
“The Count was right,” I noted, without telling the Duke the information I had obtained in a conversation with the paladin, “it seems that magicians have again begun to interfere more actively in people’s lives.”
Secondly, without much persuasion, he agreed to help you, but set several conditions,” the interlocutor continued, not noticing my thoughtfulness, “and if you don’t accept any of them, there will be no deal.”
What are these? - I asked gloomily, imagining what the inquisitor had come up with for himself.
You will provide them with samples of this stone resin that the magicians demand from you, and you will also completely obey all orders of Count Stolsky, who will be appointed your curator.
I don't see any problems. - I was surprised at such simple demands, assuming that they would demand something beyond the bounds, and preparing to bargain.
You don’t quite understand, they don’t intend to gather a squad and go with you in search of Nikki, they first want to test your loyalty to the faith and the church in order to decide whether to help you or not.
And how long will this verification last? - My mood went downhill again.
“As much as they need,” Walesa finished me off, “these are their conditions, which are not discussed.”
It’s strange, if they test me for a whole year, do I have to endure it all this time? “I didn’t really like this arrangement; without a clearly defined time frame, I could have been stuck in the city for a long time and in the clutches of the Inquisition.
You can accept their terms or refuse, but I can give you advice based on personal observations.
Of course, Your Grace, I completely trust your opinion,” I hastened to agree, I wouldn’t want to hear advice from a person whose life is nothing but intrigue and conspiracies.
Brother Anthony was not at all interested in the beginning of our conversation, he doesn’t need either you or your wife, but... - the Duke chuckled loudly, - but as soon as the conversation turned to the elixir of youth, it was as if he was replaced: bargaining began, he began to offer options, yes and the requirement to obtain resin samples also appeared for a reason.
How old is he now?
About fifty, a little more - and he will be a decrepit old man,” Walesa grinned, “so I barely caught the change in his mood before the negotiations went in the direction we needed.
It turns out that I should look for magicians not to save my wife, but to find him an elixir?
You have always been a smart guy, Maximilian,” the Duke looked at me askance, “so this time you set your priorities correctly: if the head of the inquisitors even suspects that you will not provide him with the elixir of longevity, you will become completely useless to him.” The same will happen if they themselves can create it based on the samples you provide.
This is unlikely; I have experimented with stone resin more than once, but have never been able to achieve the desired result.
And Maximilian,” the Duke looked at me carefully, “I hope in your searches you will not forget that I am not young either?”
Your Grace, as soon as I find even a bottle of resin, I will immediately give it to you, and not to this old brat.
Walesa looked at me with noticeable relief and remarked:
Great, Maximilian, then rest, tomorrow the count will come for you, and you will begin your service.
Am I going to become a paladin? - I didn’t understand.
Not really, but rather their confidant. - He chuckled again. - But you can always leave, the main thing is to remember what is at stake.
How can I forget this when I dream of my wife’s screams every night? - I answered with a sigh. - Thank you, Your Grace, you are helping me once again.
“I’m just confident in your prudence, Maximilian,” the Duke assured me, rising from the table. - You always clearly set your priorities and can sacrifice your pride for a good cause. I'm not even talking about the fact that we are a family.
I groaned, my head was pounding, as if a puck had hit me, and I wasn’t wearing a helmet. Without opening my eyes, I grabbed her with my hands. A warm breeze blew in my face, and birds chirped nearby.
“Okay, stop,” it clicked in my brain. – What a warm breeze, what birds? It’s a snowstorm now, winter is just around the corner.”
Quickly opening my eyes, I looked around, and I felt bad.
“Is it just my glitches or did my head hit the rock so well? – the first thought came. “Or maybe I’ve already died and am in heaven?”
The second thought made me sweat even more, rise up and sit on the ground.
Eyes, ears, nose, fingers - everything indicated that the surroundings actually existed. I sat on the edge of a green forest, and the warm wind pleasantly blew across my sweaty face. Still not understanding anything, I stood up and looked around again. Now I definitely panicked, a terrible fear rushed into my heart, and in despair I beat my legs with my fists.
Behind me was a forest, and in front and to the sides was a field of ripening wheat: I had seen it before in my grandfather’s village. It was not only summer around me, but also completely unfamiliar terrain. Asphalt road there was no sign of it, no matter where you looked, there was either a forest or a field.
After a while, my legs, which I had hit so hard with my fists, began to hurt, and I had to stop my own execution.
“Okay, Max, stop panicking,” I ordered myself. - Calm down and get yourself in order. They showed all sorts of things on TV, maybe you were just thrown to the other side globe where it's summer now. I need to go find people and find out where I ended up.
Having decided this for myself, I found peace. Since I was sweating a lot while wearing a winter down jacket, hat and gloves, I first stripped down to my shirt and, picking up a stick that was lying nearby, tied all my clothes into a knot and threaded the resulting lump through it, just as I usually hung my bag with my uniform on a stick.
A warm breeze blew pleasantly, blowing the wet body from all sides.
- So, where to go? – I asked myself.
It didn’t matter where to go, since there was no road.
“If it doesn’t matter where I go, then I’ll go along the edge of the field, because someone sowed it, and he might not like it if I trample on the wheat,” I reasoned.
Having decided on the direction, I set off.
“It’s strange,” I thought, “the air here is even cleaner than my grandfather’s in the taiga. I wonder where I ended up? What kind of country is this? May be, South America or Africa? – I wasn’t very good at geography, so I couldn’t answer my question.
Suddenly I heard the sound of blows and the laughter of teenagers.
“People,” I sighed with relief and walked in that direction.
As I got closer, I saw a wild scene: a group of teenagers in strange clothes, the same age as me, surrounded an old man lying on the ground and kicked him, cackling joyfully as he twitched from the blows.
I had a hard time seeing the old man, the teenagers were blocking him, but I managed to notice that he was also dressed in ancient clothes, as if he had stepped out of a medieval painting: a black and silver camisole with puffed sleeves and funny stockings coming out of puffed shorts. The teenagers, however, were dressed exactly the same.
- Well, grandpa, will you sign your land over to me? – the voice of one of the teenagers, better dressed than the others, suddenly rang out. “I promise I will be a good heir and will feed you... sometimes.”
Hearing his last words, the six teenagers laughed again.
At first I didn’t believe my ears, but even though the teenagers spoke a language unfamiliar to me, I understood them perfectly and, perhaps, could even answer them in the same language. Unknown to me, I also had a lot of other knowledge in my head: about some gnomes, orcs, various measures of measurement, peculiarities of pronunciation, and so on. As soon as I began to delve into this layer of knowledge, I got a wild headache.
“I’ll deal with this later,” I decided; first I need to decide where I am.
“I wonder where I ended up,” I thought, listening to the speeches of the teenagers. Although I understood them, I felt internally that I had never heard such language on TV.
Meanwhile, the old man quietly answered something to the teenagers, and they, as if enraged, again attacked him, kicking him. It was no longer possible to withstand this: even though there were a lot of enemies, I could not leave the old man to be torn to pieces by them.
Taking the clothes off the stick, I grabbed it more comfortably and rushed at the teenagers with a wild cry, dreaming that they would get scared and run away. As soon as they saw me, they turned pale at first, but, realizing that I was alone, they grinned and, pulling short narrow swords from the sheaths on their belts, stepped towards me.
I tensed: their pieces of iron looked very natural, shouldn’t I know how the steel shines, playing in the sun with polished edges.
“Now we’ll tear this commoner to shreds,” said one of them, making a sign with his hand to the others.
Everyone froze, and he approached me, waving a sword with a blade two fingers wide.
A shiver ran down my spine - I realized that the sword was really real, and not a plastic dummy from a store, painted with silver. From the confident and arrogant face of the boy, I realized that he was not joking and that I was really going to get chopped up.
“Damn, where did I end up,” I was scared, “it doesn’t look like they’re filming a movie here: there are no cameras, no other actors.”
- Well, hillbilly, are you scared? – the guy chuckled, smiling contentedly. “If you fall to your knees and lick my boots with your tongue, then so be it, I won’t kill you.” I’ll only trim my ears so that next time I’ll know how to interfere with Count Ronald.
Out of despair, I put a stick in front of me. The teenagers were distracted from the old man and laughed in unison at my undoubtedly stupid trick: opposing the sword with a crooked stick.
“Romuald, pierce him quickly,” shouted the best-dressed teenager, who looked like the leader of this gang, “otherwise the manager will come galloping in and ruin all our fun.”
The old man rose from the ground and, apparently, wanted to shout something to me, but a kick threw him to the ground, forcing him to cough heavily.
-What are you bastards doing? – I could only hiss. - The police will come and you will be locked up for a long time.
The teenagers laughed again. The guy standing opposite me swung his sword and cut down part of the stick that I had set up as a block. My hands burned with pain from the blow, but I was able to restrain myself and not throw away the rest of the useless piece of wood: for some reason I held on to it, like a drowning man holding on to a straw.
- Romuald, why are you messing around there? – one of the teenagers asked capriciously, turning to my opponent.
“I want to play with him,” Romuald answered, knocking the remains of the stick out of my hands. “Just so you know, smerd,” he said before the next swing of the sword, “no one will save either you or this old man.”
The sword was rushing towards me with great speed, and only my goalkeeping skills allowed me to dodge it. I jumped back and almost fell.
“What a jumper,” the teenager laughed, making a stabbing lunge.
I again dodged this blow by going to the left.
“Romuald,” shouted the leader of the gang, “should I take care of him myself?” Can't you stab the stinker?
“But, Ronald,” replied the slightly discouraged teenager, seeing how I was dodging his attacks, “he’s slippery, like a snake.”
“Well, stab him like a snake,” the teenager replied, which caused laughter from the rest of his friends.
For the next two minutes I jumped and jumped like a real grasshopper, barely dodging the whistling sword. True, I made a mistake once, and the tip of the sword touched my shoulder, tearing my shirt. My shoulder burned with pain and blood appeared.
Seeing her, the enemy screamed joyfully and rushed to attack with double speed. I realized that I could only hold on for a couple of minutes. If before this my speed had saved me, now I was thoroughly exhausted, and besides, the flowing blood was getting on my nerves, making my heart clench with fear.
- Yeah! - Romuald yelled, seeing that I had tripped over a stone and sprawled on the ground. - I jumped, slave!
He raised his weapon over me, and I was already preparing for death, when suddenly the sword flew out of his hand with a loud ringing sound. I looked at the teenager in surprise and, seeing that he himself was even more perplexed, looked to where the sword fell. It turned out that next to him lay a broken arrow with a tetrahedral tip.
Immediately after this, with a very short interval, five more arrows knocked the swords out of the hands of the other teenagers. They screamed in pain, shaking their broken hands. One of them tried to raise his weapon, but an arrow that flew from the direction of the wheat field pierced his leg - the teenager fell to the ground and screamed in pain.
The whole gang froze in place with fear, and then, grabbing the wounded man by the arms, they ran away, realizing that the shooter was not joking and could shoot them like partridges. Their swords remained on the ground.
I got up with difficulty and went to the old man, barely moving my legs, worn out by jumping.
- Grandpa, are you okay? – I asked politely, lifting the old man from the ground and shaking off the dust from his strange outfit.
The old man was still coughing, but not as much.
“No... cough... but I’m already... cough... cough... better,” he said, rising from the ground and leaning on my shoulder.
Another old man came out to us from the field, only armed with a long bow as tall as he was. On his back hung a quiver of arrows. I realized that this was the unknown shooter who saved the old man and me.
“Oh, it’s you, Gran,” the victim smiled at the approaching archer, who immediately grabbed the old man from the other side. “As usual, you’re on time, I’ve already lost count of how many times you’ve already saved my life.”
“Master, what are you talking about,” answered the second old man. “Yes, if it weren’t for you, my children would have been torn to pieces by Count Ronald’s dogs, and then you gave money for my family to move to another duchy.” I owe you an unpayable debt.
“Stop it, Gran,” the old man smiled sadly, “you started saving my life back during the First War of Magicians.” So it is I who owe it to you.
“Dear grandfathers,” I interrupted them, “maybe we can quickly get out of here before they return with reinforcements?” I suggest contacting local law enforcement agencies and filing a complaint against the actions of these hooligans. They must be punished, they almost killed me and you.
The old men looked at me incomprehensibly, and the one whom the other called the owner answered:
“I don’t know who you are, young lad, but we don’t have, as you said, “militia,” and I don’t even know such a word. It is also certain that no one will put Count Ronald in prison anywhere, his father is the Duke of Narig. The only thing you're right about is that we need to get out of here quickly before they come back for their swords.
I picked up my things, and we walked in the direction indicated by Gran, who carefully helped his owner walk.
While we were walking, I decided that I would no longer express my thoughts until I figured out where I ended up: all these counts, swords, “masters”, the First Magic Wars confused me. I felt like I was in a children's fairy tale or the Middle Ages.
“But this simply cannot be,” I corrected myself, “this simply cannot be.”
Very soon we entered the village, and a crowd of people poured out to meet us. Looking at their attire, I realized that they were dressed very simply, like peasants in all sorts of films about fairy-tale knights saving princesses. The only thing missing was the knights themselves.
Women threw up their hands in pity, and men wrinkled their faces with displeasure as we walked past them.
“Soon the owner will be killed, and we will be given to Duke Narig, he will get even with us for going against his will and not running away to other masters,” I heard the whisper of one of the women.
“Even without that, his soldiers trample our fields and rape our daughters,” cried the one to whom these words were addressed. “It would be better if the baron agreed and transferred the last village to the duke.”
- It’s none of your business, women! – a man standing next to them shouted at them. “You will cry more bitter tears when we move on to the Duke and his lustful son.”
I heard the whole conversation, and a huge seed of doubt began to ripen in me: what if I had fallen into some kind of a parallel world and my home is not here at all, but somewhere unknown? I urgently need to look for a magician or wizard who will send me home.
These thoughts brought tears to my eyes, and so that no one would see them, I pretended that a speck had gotten into my eye.
Beyond the village we passed through a large Orchard and came out onto the road leading to small castle. I opened my mouth in admiration - it really was a real castle with all its attributes: a moat, a drawbridge, a fortress wall with gates, waving banners on the pointed tops of the corner and central towers. I had only seen this in pictures or movies before.
True, when we came closer to the gate, the reality turned out to be much more unattractive: only a small parapet remained of the ditch, the bridge was without chains and would hardly ever be able to be raised. The castle itself was similar to the old men walking next to me: it had clearly seen better times.
Even I understood that the castle needed urgent repairs, since the dilapidated walls threatened to collapse on their own, without waiting for the troops besieging them.
- Master, what happened? - shouts were heard from the castle, and two elderly women ran out to meet us, who, examining us, began to wail sadly.
- So, everyone be silent! - ordered the old man, whose voice suddenly rang with metal. “This young man saved me from Count Ronald and is my guest of honor.” Give him the guest room closest to me.
“But, master,” one of the women interrupted him, “there has been no furniture there for a long time; we burned it all this winter because there was no firewood.” We can only arrange it in the servants' quarters, this is the only place where there are benches left.
The old man looked at me guiltily.
“Don’t be upset, grandfather,” I hastened to reassure him, “I’ll stay with you for a while, I’ll put myself in order and tomorrow I’ll go look for the magicians.”
As soon as I said the last word, I realized that I had blurted out the wrong thing again. The faces of everyone present became earth-colored, and Gran generally jumped up to me and covered his mouth with his palm, looking around.
The old man looked around just as carefully, but apparently calmed down, he said quietly:
“I don’t know who you are, young lad, but if you value your life, never utter this word in our kingdom.” And in general, if you want to live a little longer than a couple of minutes, don’t say this word out loud. If you are simply thought to be seeking connections with the unnamed, you will be executed, but first they will torture you for two weeks to find out more about them.
Seeing the state of those around me, I realized that they were not joking at all, and from now on I decided to keep my mouth shut until I found out where I ended up.
“Go wash, rest from the road, settle down for the night,” the old man continued in a calm tone, “and in two hours, at dinner, you will tell us everything.”
I thanked him and followed the women, who immediately began to ask me who I was, where I was from, why I was dressed in such strange clothes, how I met Baron Krohn. I immediately came up with a legend that I was going to stick to in the future. I don’t remember anything, I don’t know who I am, I woke up in the forest, wandered randomly and met a baron who was attacked. That's how we met.
The women groaned and patted me on the head, saying that losing oneself is the worst thing that can happen to a person.
While we were talking, we came to a small darkened room in the corner tower of the castle. There was everything there: from kitchen fires to benches littered with rags and skins.
“Well, this is your shop,” one of the women nodded to me when she finished bandaging my shoulder, scratched by a sword.
I looked at the place she indicated.
“Poor Tal died of cold this winter, and there is no one else to carry firewood to the castle. It’s not for Gran or the armless to carry them.
I thanked her and headed towards the shop. There was such a stench all around that I wrinkled my nose. How do they even live here?
Walking towards the bench, I stepped on a mouse and jumped away when several dozen of these creatures rushed away from me, squeaking displeasedly. I almost felt sick, and when I saw in the semi-darkness that the rags lying on the bench were moving slightly, I, barely restraining myself, rushed outside. I definitely won't sleep in this place.
Jumping out of the tower, I looked around, looking for where I could stop for the night. Then I heard painfully familiar sounds that stirred my blood - somewhere there was a forge, and someone was working in it. I went there with the thought: I’d better ask to spend the night in the forge on fresh air rather than lie down in that bedbug infestation.
Rounding the corner of the tower, I saw what I was looking for. The forge stood on backyard the castle, separate from all the buildings, it was from there that the sounds of hammer blows on metal were heard. As I came closer, I was pleasantly surprised: the forge turned out to be the best building in this castle - not a single lopsided or fallen stone, in addition, everything was coated with clay.
