Chapter 57: The Arrival of the Sarmatians

  Justinian found Bogna slumped at the base of a tree, fainted from the shock of what she had witnessed. Startled, he quickly shook her awake. She blinked in embarrassment, clearly unwilling to explain anything.

  There was no time to question her.

  Soon, they went out to meet a loud and colorful caravan. At the head of the procession was an obese, broadly smiling devil with a large, curled mustache and a long beard. None other than Nikodem Rudnicki, a great landowner and Justinian's mentor.

  "It's good to see you, Nobleman Rudnicki," said the latter, spreading his arms wide.

  His smile was sincere. The devil had taught him much, and who knows if he would now be living peacefully on Mountain of Plague and Misfortune were it not for that education.

  "Hohoho, and you as well, my dear friend! I see you haven't been idle in your cultivation since defeating Greedius!"

  The young man smiled slightly but noted the state of Rudnicki's caravan.

  His hellish steed was breathing weak fire from its nostrils, clearly tired from the journey. The rest of the nobles didn't look too fresh either; loud snores came from a good few wagons.

  "It would be a slight against hospitality if we spoke of this now. First, allow me to offer you a place to stay for the night."

  The nobleman's gaze followed his, and soon the red-skinned devil furrowed his brow. His grimace showed that he clearly didn't like what he saw. His hand even trembled slightly, as if he wanted to reach for his saber, but in the end, he shook his head.

  "We would be obliged!"

  Justinian nodded and, together with Bogna, they led the caravan to the village. During this time, Rudnicki observed which of his companions had managed to fall asleep and snore, glaring at them as if composing a list in his memory, but he didn't say much.

  It wasn't long before the servants, mostly dried to skin and bones, set up large tents, into which their lordships were led. The Grim Judge grew thoughtful for a moment seeing this, but he made no comment, only glancing occasionally at Bogna, who paid no attention to the poor wretches.

  "Are you sure you don't want to stay in our dormitory?" he asked the nobleman, a little embarrassed that the newcomers hadn't even accepted his lodging.

  Rudnicki smiled mysteriously at these words.

  "Tomorrow, you will learn the reasons for our decision."

  The next day, when everyone was well-rested, bonfires were lit near the dormitory, and the smell of roasted meat and quince vodka filled the air.

  Rudnicki and his Noble Brothers looked around the area with admiration.

  "Well, devil take me, my dear friend!" roared the devil, slapping Justinian on the back so hard he almost fell into the fire.

  "You've turned this forgotten backwater into a proper settlement! Look, Noble Brothers! The fields are tilled, the buildings are clean, even that old drunkard Ignatius looks like he's become useful!"

  The nobles nodded in appreciation, sipping drinks from richly decorated goblets. They were genuinely impressed.

  They had seen much, but none of them expected that something could be made from the Emptyhead's land.

  "Rudnicki, you old fart! An old drunkard founded your line!" the lord of the mountain retorted.

  The Noble Brothers, including the man himself, burst out laughing. Nikodem himself took no offense and immediately began to joke about someone else.

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  Ignatius the Empty-head was clearly treated by the newcomers as one of the Noble Brothers.

  'Whatever you say, they have a rather similar approach to life,' Justinian sighed, observing this.

  The feast, meanwhile, was in full swing. The hubbub of conversation mingled with songs and silly jokes. At one point, one of the nobles, a devil with a face ruddy from alcohol, leaned toward the Grim Judge.

  "Has Your Lordship heard what is happening on the estates of the late Greedius?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Justinian raised an eyebrow. News from the world reached him very rarely.

  "Apparently, the Orange Prince, the previous ruler of Ukuun, tried to take over the mountain by force!" the nobleman continued excitedly. "He gathered a few former allies and set off on a conquest!"

  "And what happened?" Justinian asked, genuinely curious.

  "He was repelled, that's what!" the devil cackled. "Greedius may be dead, but his systems are still working. Apparently, one of the adepts brutally subjugated the rest and took over the formations on the mountain. The Prince couldn't do a thing!"

  This news left Justinian lost in thought. He knew the brutality of that place, and the fact that a new ruler had arisen from such a system... It filled him with great unease.

  At one point, Rudnicki approached him.

  "Well, my dear protégé! I must tell you, you put on quite a show achieving Foundation Stabilization! It's been a long time since one domain swept all the others off the moon!"

  The young man guessed what the nobleman was referring to. He remembered how, after the sacrifice, his energy had dispersed the manifestations of Felix and Septima.

  However, he didn't pay much attention to such things. He was more interested in his friends.

  "Is there any news about Felix?"

  The nobleman slowly poured himself some quince vodka from the bottle into his mug. He was not happy with what he had to say.

  "Our golden boy is alive, and that's the most important thing. But what kind of life awaits him when he wakes up?" - here the devil waved his hand, grimacing. - "It will be good if he can walk at all."

  Justinian sighed. He had heard details later about what Faustus had done, and there was no doubt that it was thanks to him that he had been able to defeat Greedius.

  The price that the dimension's favorite adept paid for it, however, was devastating. Ripping out his own cultivation foundation was like a disability, one that Felix himself had chosen.

  The memories of the day he finally achieved his revenge reminded him of someone else.

  "And Septima?"

  Rudnicki twirled his mustache, emptying his mug without difficulty.

  "Rumors of strange lights on Mountain of Darkness still appear, but people have stopped saying they are there to take over Boruta's legacy."

  The young man nodded. Maleficius simply seemed uninterested in the affairs of the 66th dimension. If it were otherwise, he probably would have helped Greedius when he used that strange artifact on the voivode.

  'But why did Septima help me?'

  He had previously felt the she-devil watching his fight with Belisara. He sensed in her a desire to fight. After the adept's death, however, the woman withdrew and even helped him by dealing with the Orange Prince.

  Rudnicki noticed how absent-minded Justinian had become.

  "But there's more to this story..."

  "Yes?"

  The hellish nobleman looked at him with a glint in his eye.

  "It is said that Boruta is unofficially insisting that all hostility towards Maleficius be abandoned."

  The young man raised his eyebrows upon hearing such a statement.

  'Isn't showing such weakness in the devil's world too risky?'

  What he was thinking was so obvious that "The Orphan" burst out laughing.

  "My dear friend, you may have a respected reputation, but you'd be no good at cards."

  He clapped him on the back as he said it, emptying another mug of quince vodka.

  "Come, boy. Let me stretch my poor old bones."

  Looking at the folds of fat rippling on his calves, Justinian became certain that if they were poor, it wasn't because of old age.

  The party was going on all around, and the visiting nobles admired the state of the homestead they found. A green-haired Franciscus curiously watched a discussion between two obese devils about the most noble form of literature.

  A little further away, a completely drunk Ignatius, arm-in-arm with Rudnicki's son, was singing songs about "barely legal" beautiful-eyed she-devils.

  Even Doctor Totius found an opportunity to socialize and was lecturing a few completely drunk guests on how they should live.

  As Justinian wandered over to Rudnicki's tent, he looked at his guardian with disbelief.

  'So this is why they didn't want to stay in the dormitory...'

  The nobleman was very flattered by this look and even raised his chin a little higher than usual.

  You see, the interior of the tent... was disgustingly rich. The amount of golden ornaments, belts with crystals, and shirts interwoven with foreign fabrics was simply staggering. The young man was sure that even counting the extravagant Ignatius's residence, there was no such wealth anywhere on Mountain of Plague and Misfortune.

  What could the young man do but shake his head?

  Nikodem Rudnicki, meanwhile, motioned for him to come inside.

  "Sit down, boy. We did not come to your mountain with such a large procession for no reason."

  The devil's eyes grew much more serious, and even the flush from consuming the quince vodka disappeared from his face.

  Justinian sat down opposite him, guessing that the matter was serious.

  'Could this be related to the earlier summons from Boruta?'

  Seeing the atmosphere growing heavier, he was all ears, expecting shocking news.

  The devil slowly smiled, seeing his interlocutor's apprehension.

  "My dear friend, I want to adopt you into the House of Rudnicki!"