Blutoke had a kind of asymmetry incomprehensible to the human eye, and was so huge that its towers and wings were connected by narrow red bridges. The central part, where the Rossi family lived, was distinguished from the other wings by the golden runes decorating its entire facade, protecting the Rossi from enemies. But to Derek and his army, these runes posed no threat and were useless to their lord: their magic, like that of the demons, had been lost.

"I should have told the horned Queen Varma that she would be warming my bed tonight," Derek grinned gloatingly. – But they say she's many years old, and she's only skillfully hiding her old age with magic… Now that magic doesn't work for her, I think I'll see an old woman instead of her tonight, and a gray-haired grandfather instead of golden-haired Lamar. I wonder how old their daughter is? She looks young indeed. She's beautiful, but, damn, her red eyes ruin the whole impression, and it's disgusting to take her to bed. It's a good thing she didn't inherit twisted horns like her mother… But I need rest: it's fun to swing a sword left and right, but even I need at least an hour of peace and quiet.

And, with the intention of finding himself a small cozy room and drinking a goblet of wine, Derek Merkswerd also headed for the palace. But then Gerd – a warrior, master of several falcons, in charge of the correspondence between the king and the magician Andrada – was beside him.

– Your Majesty, my faithful Kit has brought you a letter," Gerd bowed to the king and handed him a small, tightly rolled sheet of yellow parchment, sealed with a blue seal bearing the image of a fox – Andrada's surname.

– Thank you," the king said briefly, and immediately broke the seal and ran a quick glance over his magician's beautiful manuscript.

Neither he nor Andrada had any fear that their letters would fall into the hands of their enemies and be used against them, because both of them wrote in a secret script, familiar only to the two of them. Derek's eyes slowly narrowed as he read the magician's short message.

– Gerd! Find me Bergil! – he quietly ordered the master of the falcons, and the latter, silently bowing, hurried inside the palace.

"God's grace that these demons cannot now read my thoughts! Otherwise, they would have triumphed… Something must be done, today. I will not hesitate and hope for a miracle," Derek thought to himself and tore the message into small pieces and swallowed it, drinking a sip of water from the flask tied to his belt.

Quickly entering the palace, Derek met Bergil walking back to the square and locked himself with him in one of the farthest wings.

– Keep your voice down," the king warned his friend as he closed the elegant but thin golden door behind him.

– Understood. – Bergil stepped up to Derek and fixed an expectant gaze on his face.

– Worse news than I was prepared for," he said quietly.

– What kind of news?

– Andrada wrote that we must destroy Flammehav and not accept peace if it is offered. But I've already given Lamar my word, and I can't go back on it. – Derek put his palm to his eyes tiredly. – The devil! Why have I been in such a hurry?

– Hey, hey, Your Majesty! Can I get you some wine to lift your spirits? – Bergil asked him kindly.

– Wine will not help, my friend!" the king laughed softly and took his palm away from his eyes. He was in no hurry to remove his blood-stained armor. – But the fact that I promised to give the demons peace is not the worst of it.

– Don't drag it out, Your Majesty! – Bergil grumbled unhappily.