Decided! He would no longer hide in corners and drink rat blood! He would turn everyone around into vampires and let the townspeople suffer!
Having settled on his plans, the young ghoul immediately set about putting them into action. His first victims were the owners of the house where he had been hiding.
***
The man lying on his stomach evoked no particular associations. He didn't seem to be from his unit. After all, who could understand? No one wore uniforms anymore. Back in the twentieth century, you could tell by looking at a soldier, but here there could be nuances. Ally, enemy, neutral—everyone dressed the same, and it was rare if they marked their affiliation to a specific army or unit.
— So, who is this? — Alexander asked Leonid, who was standing nearby.
— He was crawling through the forest towards your camp. The gendarmes met him and asked why he was crawling, and then explained the extent of his delusions, because a human is a bipedal creature!
— And if we drop the jokes and sarcasm?
Instead of answering, the voevoda (General) tossed a flask to the triumvirate, containing about a hundred milliliters of liquid. Alexander didn't protest at the lack of tact and simply drank the blood, emptying the container. Before him lay a rather unusual individual. A lucky and experienced hired killer, who had lived and worked comfortably in Ur for several years until, by a foolish accident, he had fallen into the hands of the guard and ended up in the Zalonsk mines.
He was pulled out earlier this year and presented personally to Archmage Elos. The governor outlined the man's future, without offering a choice or demanding consent. A ritual of submission and just one assignment: to kill Archmage Dukon. And so the convict had been trying to make his way from the forest into the mercenary camp right on its edge, and then to infiltrate the central camp of the besiegers by posing as one of them.
— Where's his weapon?
Leonid also silently threw the scabbard containing a massive stiletto made of moon silver to the commander.
— Did you figure out what kind of artifact this is?
This time, the voevoda had to respond.
— No. A wild mix of spells, one on top of another. Most of it is unfamiliar to me.
The hilt fit comfortably in the hand, and the triangular blade glowed with a steady magical light. While instructing the assassin, the archmage had said to simply strike. It didn't have to be directly into the target's body; the main thing was for the stiletto to come into contact with the victim or their protection, and then everything would happen on its own. Elos had repeated several times that any protection would be pierced. Interesting! But magical sight showed a mere tangle of embedded spells within the structure of the item, and most of them were related to Light magic. The artifact maker was a genius.
— Do you think there will be more assassins? Considering the cost of this little toy? — Alexander sheathed the weapon and waved it in the air.
— Mines, and now this stiletto. I wouldn't be surprised if tanks made of moon silver start rolling around here. Elos has prepared thoroughly.
— And I don't think there's any insurance. This is too expensive! — The knight pulled out the stiletto again and admired it. — And what about the mines, by the way?
— So far, fourteen have been dug up.
— And where are they?
— Disarmed and placed in a cache. We set it up a couple of kilometers from here.
— Good, try to find any remaining mines. Maybe not all of them have exploded today.
After a wild mob of armed convicts attempted to attack the camp early in the morning and was destroyed by a single spell, Archmage Dukon had shut himself up in his tent and refused to see anyone. The duke, who was left in charge, didn't dare make any plans and only ordered the disarming of the planted mines. This kept the besiegers occupied all day. And at night, someone scratched at Alexander's tent and invited him for a walk in the forest.
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