Chapter 14: Nulara

“Are you two in a relationship?” isters asked, smiling.

“We have only recently met, deshaar...” Valdiramir began to answer.

“Don’t call me that way, better by name, besides Jamashar and deshaar sound almost the same, you won’t even notice the difference, glorious Valdiramir,” the old man said and winked. Ishkmet snorted, Nulara rolled her eyes.

“Nulara and I,” the half-elf continued, “are united by the fact that we both have larmarian roots, and I just...”

“Are you going to keep telling strangers the truth?” Nulara interrupted. “Though you are a half-blood, you should have gotten cunning and intuition from the arqilunians.”

“Blood owes him nothing or anyone else, larmarian,” Ishkmet intervened, “Oops,” at that moment the wagon ran into a small bump on the road, and they shook, “Nulara, you sound like a racist!”

“What?!” Nulara said indignantly. “The sand dwarf is going to talk about racism?!”

“Yes, that’s right, I’ll talk about it!” the wallitarf continued to drive the carriage, without even looking at the girl, “You said that the forest elves should be so and so, but that’s a racial stereotype! An ermirian is not some kind of fruit from which you expect a certain taste!”

“Bravo!” Jamashar exclaimed. “And I didn’t know that you, my friend, could speak so beautifully and coherently!” the old man laughed and patted the dwarf on the head.

“Ay, Jamashar, did you listen to me or not?” I shouldn’t have compared ermirian with fruit, but with some animal, yes, so that you understand that you can’t just ruffle someone’s hair without permission when you’re not alone, even if it’s a very close friend! I’m not your son, old man, and haven’t you forgotten that I am older than you?”

“Exactly!” isters remembered. “You, wallitarfs live up to two hundred and forty years, and we isterses, like the larmarians only up to a hundred. By the way, Valdiramir, how long do the half-elves live?”

“Everyone knows that,” Valdiramir was surprised, “any forest elf, even a sand elf, joining a snunorf, larmarian, isters or azdairik woman, will live for about two hundred years. Jamashar, you are a sage, you have read so many books, didn’t you know that?”

“Of course I did! It was just necessary to distract you, friends, from the unpleasant dialogue about races.”

“Yes,” the dwarf interjected, “I just forgot what I wanted to say to Nulara, but thanks, old man, for reminding me. Nulara, you shouldn’t expect some kind of stereotyped behavior from a certain race, each ermirian is unique, as each fruit, even if they seem similar at first glance. Don’t assign labels and you’ll open the full spectrum of behavioral diversity.

“I’m going to write my memoirs,” Jamashar was delighted, “in my entire life I haven’t heard expressions from him like “stereotyped behavior” or “spectrum of diversity.” I should make notes! I only wrote down, “If you are hungry, master dragon, eat our karkhashes.“” And the old man laughed.

“Will you always remind me of that?” the dwarf said sharply.

“Have you seen the dragon?” Nulara showed interest.

“Yes,” Ishkmet replied, “he was huge and black…”

“He was not black,” Jamashar interrupted him, “it was very dark, but he was blue, in my opinion, with such light glowing edges.”

“No, he was black,” Ishkmet insisted. “But what’s the difference? The important thing is that he didn’t burn us.”

“I saw him,” Nulara said. “In daylight, he’s blue with white edges. He and three other dragons were in Eileenelia, supposedly became an ally of the arqilunians. A deceitful union!” suddenly tears came to her eyes, but she held them back. Dragons can only blaze with fire and lie!”

“I don’t know, that dragon seemed friendly to me,” Jamashar said.

“He wasn’t friendly,” Ishkmet said, “he was not hungry, and he was bored. Another time he might eat us without hesitation. Besides, as you remember, he was sure that we would die in the desert since we dared to make a fire...”

“Quiet!” Valdiramir said. Everyone listened and heard the clatter of the karkhash’s hooves. A small group of trees near the road blocked their view. Valdiramir jumped off and ran to the vantage point. Then he came back instantly.

“Along the river,” the half-elf said, “an army is moving, and it looks like it is an army of snunorfs.”

“What? Do they want to attack the arqilunians or not?” the dwarf was surprised.

“I’ll talk to them,” Nulara said, “everything will be all right, trust me,” she jumped off the wagon and ran to the group of trees near the road. She heard the clatter of hooves; the army spotted either her or Valdiramir. Two riders rushed towards them.

When the riders approached, Nulara saw that they were indeed snunorfs, and she stepped forward.

“I am Nulara Tossed, daughter of Timnar Tossed and the rightful heir to the titles of yarlantan of the Larmar Islands and snonungyarl of Lakhtumorer.”

“Stormentan, this is Timnar Tossed’s daughter,” one of the soldiers shouted, apparently in great surprise, because he sitting on his karkhash instead of galloping back to his commander.”

An elderly man with a grey beard and full black armor rode up.

“I am Carlfrig Wulfrongson,” he said, “I knew your father, dear armetieri,” and he bowed to Nulara.

Nulara bowed back.

“As you know, stormentan, my father is dead.”

“Yes, and I’m very sorry for your loss,” Carlfrig said sincerely, “he was a remarkably honest and kind person, but with a tough grip when it came to his people.”

Nulara held back her tears.

“Yes, he was, thank you, stormentan. Perhaps you will be comforted by the fact that the azdairik, who was guilty of the death of my father, uncle, cousin and others, was executed by the Tulvarick VI Molotildar.

“Although news comes to us, armetieri, but more often from the north. I only know that king Tulvarick is now in Forsholden.”

“Yes, the execution was carried out there.”

By this time, the carriage arrived at them.

“These are my... companions,” Nulara picked up the word, “but we are going to different places.”

“May I ask, dear armetieri, where to? Do not think of it as insolence, but I know something about the settlements in the north. And you, apparently, are heading north.”

“Yes, dear stormentan,” Jamashar suddenly perked up, “my friend Ishkmet and I,” isters pointed to the dwarf, “would like to visit Jöhnstromken, do you know anything about this city?”

“Curious,” said Carlfrig. “What is your name?”

“Jamashar Mantillish.”

“It is curious, Jamashar, that the isters, accompanied by the noble larmarian yarlantan, travels across the arqilunian land towards the northern snunorf city. A spy? A deserter? A traitor?” Carlfrig raised an eyebrow slightly.

“None of this!” the old man was indignant, “I’m a traveller and I love books and I want to find something!”

“What exactly?” Carlfrig asked.

“Erm... Books, biographies, scrolls...” Jamashar was confused.

“He is obsessed with books,” Ishkmet said, “I hope, dear stormentan, you will not arrest us for the crimes, that did our kin?”

Carlfrig measured him with a glance.

“No,” he replied, “Don’t you know that since twenty-one years ago from Järvanhogen, Hoogmeerfall and Jöhnstromken citizens disappeared, there have been no other people there, except the Snunorf ikhagatbers? Back when I was a konungtan, we travelled around all the nearby towns and cities and concluded that the inhabitants had disappeared from only the three mentioned settlements. The western bridge of Jöhnstromken was destroyed, so I had to travel around the river with my detachment. As I understand, you are interested in the library, dear isters?” the old man nodded, “So it was plundered back then. However, thieves were looking for something valuable, the books aren’t much use to anyone, and they are probably still there...”

“Dear stormentan, forgive me for interrupting, but why are you here in Eileenelia now?” Valdiramir intervened.

“Order of His High Northern Majesty Ganrikter Chrisskarson II. We are helping anyone in any way we can. The primary goal was to repel a possible attack from the southeast of Kaushmanashtoon’s army, but the dragons changed the course of the current war. And now we…” He broke off as the rider galloped.

“Stormentan, an urgent message from Frostgarstrad!”

“Hmm, this is not the king’s seal,” Carlfrig said and, breaking the seal, unfolded the letter. He read it to himself, but his face changed dramatically. He made a pause. His eyes blazed with rage. “The king is dead! The king was killed by condemned snunorf with his inmates, and they have taken over the capital,” he restrained his anger, and continued, “it is also said that hundreds of citizens were able to escape from the capital and now Frostgarstrad is just a city occupied by criminals, maybe there are several hostages within the city.” He turned to the officers accompanying him, “I order to turn around, we are heading to the capital! I’ll chop off the heads of these skitatskums by myself!”

“Can Ishkmet and I go with you, dear stormentan?” Jamashar asked suddenly.

“The King is dead!” Carlfrig answered sharply, “and you think of going on some kind of a trip?!”

“Our king is dead,” Nulara said, “and we must avenge him!”

Carlfrig looked at her in confusion. Twenty-one years ago Snalm Chrisskarson XIV relatives were staying in Jöhnstromken and then disappeared, like the rest of the snunorfs, but Snalm’s son was in the capital and took the throne after his father’s death. However, Ganrikter II had no siblings and no children. And since it was now impossible to find suitable other options, the northerners had no choice but to declare Nulara their queen. But the larmarians rarely sit on the throne of the Norvinoria...

“Yes, um ...my queen! Your Majesty, that’s what we’ll do!” Suddenly a confused Carlfrig blurted out.

Nulara’s mouth opened involuntarily, but she quickly felt it and closed it.

“Well,” Carlfrig continued, “find a karkhash for the queen!” he ordered.

“Now, that’s become very interesting!” the wallitarf put in and ironically bowed to Nulara. “Your Majesty!”

“I will have to leave you, Your Majesty,” Valdiramir said.

“Why?” Nulara asked.

“Do you remember that I need to meet my mother, don’t you?”

“I don’t remember that you promised that, Your Majesty,” Valdiramir smiled.

“I promised that to myself.” At that moment, a black karkhash was brought to Nulara, and she jumped on it.“Good luck, Valdiramir and goodbye.”

The army had already regrouped and moved north by then. Carlfrig and Nulara rode off to take their places in the vanguard. Jamashar and Ishkmet rode behind.