Готовый перевод Господин Барон / The Baron: Глава

Chapter 18

Gravstein greeted us with the usual gloomy skies and light rain. Elepar said goodbye without going into the courtyard, so I walked down the street to the gate with mixed feelings - it was nice to be back in my own home, and it had been a fun trip, but there would be problems, demands, strange people, and all the other things that go with ancient castles. I can't worry about them. I'll just solve it somehow! Or I'll leave it for the morning. Am I a baron or not? I'll have a feast with my faithful retinue.

Egelbert was waiting for me at the gate, as frowning as everyone else around me.

"Got dag, Mr. Baron."

"Could be a little less formal, mate. Or have we got a problem? Of course, something happened. I hope the castle hasn't been captured yet."

"No, this morning's siege went well. We won again."

"Nice! So what's so bad then?"

"Baron Elig von Custhiv visited the town. Unfortunately, there was an incident..."

We were approaching the main tower, and it was strangely quiet. I wanted to get away from the drizzle from the sky, too. The rain was a mental mockery. I could call upon myself the kitchen duty to be closer to the hot ovens!"

"What kind of incident?'

"Miller, the one who owns the shop at the corner of the castle, took slight offense at the demand made of him, after which he caused the baron to be disrespected by his words and actions... the Baron's indignation. The shopkeeper was detained in accordance with the nobleman's demand. He is now in a cell in the castle prison, as von Custhiv has sentenced the commoner to the proper punishment and placed him in your hands to administer justice."

"Couldn't he do it himself?"

"He took the opportunity to hand over the accused to you." Von Schnitze's voice was strange. "First, the defendant is a Gravsteinian, and second, you, as the eldest of the country's barons, can and must protect the interests of other barons by exercising the right of 'counsel at his word'."

"OK, let's put him on trial, get an acquittal."

"The trial has already been held by Baron von Kusthiv."

"Then send him for a further hearing so he can be pardoned. Or no, I'll put him on community service for a week. That's the third complaint!"

I threw my bag on the bed with relief and turned to the door. The stewart stood with his head still lowered and nervously twitching his cuffs.

"A convicted person can only be pardoned at dawn the next day."

"What? Oh, yes, I seem to recall you saying something like that. Then put the old troublemaker in a cell and let him sit up till morning to think about his anti-social behavior. Don't forget to bring him a pillow and a proper blanket."

"Alexander... Mr. Baron... The sentence under the Truth of Esks shall be carried out before sunset of the same day."

Before sundown... the trial has already taken place. Baron. Commoner. Several pieces of the puzzle clicked together, and the next moment I raked the old man by the collar and hissed in his face:

"Are you suggesting that I execute a man?!"
*******

"That's what the law says... Alexander, I don't know what to do!"

"To hell with those laws!"

"It was adopted by our ancestors."

"To hell with the ancestors too! Let's make an exception!"

"And how long before someone decides it is okay to make an exception for themselves? The law is an internal need, validated by experience and accepted as a rule. The law is what we believe in."

He averted his eyes, but the phrase was too familiar to object. Letting the manager go, I walked over to the window. It was still an hour and a half before sunset. Oh, dear!

"How is that even possible?"

"You see, Alexander, our laws were passed in brief moments of freedom, which were, alas, very rare. And in such moments..."

"You've been pulling away for all the past."

"You could say that." His voice was wistful. "The Righteous Court Act was passed by the Volksraat for a very specific reason when one of the barons was using the support of another invader to overtly abuse his rights."

"And how many people remember him?"

"Perhaps only historians. That period of liberation lasted less than six months, and the only person affected was the person against whom the law was enacted."

"And who's so memorable one?"

"I don't know, Alexander. Will you think of something?"

I was silent. So, one of my townsfolk has been sentenced to death for misunderstanding the political moment. The baron-jerk exercised his right to pass the sentence on to me. Technically he was even right - but the fact that the peaceful, though acrimonious old man would have to be executed was another matter. According to the law, everything is right.

Do I believe that von Kusthiv didn't know what he was doing?

"Where is that bastard?!"

"He left as soon as Sir Ulfric's guards arrived, but he had time to conduct the trial and the procedure of transferring the defendant to the senior baron of the land of Esk in front of witnesses. To you."

"Misbehaved and got away with it, the bastard. Any options for postponing the execution?"

"Alas, I couldn't find it. I called you, perhaps we could have done something in a day, but I couldn't get through."

"I turned my phone off while I was talking to de Nui, and then I just forgot about it. But why did you... at least make a run for him?!"

"We have been waiting for you, Mr. Baron."

"They waited! Fucking waiters..." I ran through the possibilities one more time and asked again without hope: "Is the case registered?"

In the Town Hall and in the Police Station papers.

The only thing left to do was to swear. It was an idiotic situation when the Esks, considered by the people around them to be shallow and, to put it bluntly, a little turned on by customs and laws, trapped themselves in a trap concocted by someone else and justified this opinion. Everything is right. Everything is according to the law. Albeit against common sense. Like the whole thing about secession and bringing back old customs... customs? Customs!

"Right, stop!" I rushed frantically to the cupboard, where I had thrown all the old books and scrolls von Schnitze had applied... there was something here, wasn't there? There must be something! Not in a book, but in these scrolls, which the steward had slipped to me for a better understanding of the spirit of the nation. Did I see something that... this? No... Yes!

"There! It is said that according to custom, the condemned person can recite a prayer while the executioner is preparing, and only when he has finished can the execution be carried out!"

"It's only an indication, not..."

"Silence! I command you - put him under the gallows and let him recite until morning! Don't you dare interrupt his communion with God!"

"Mr. Baron, isn't that too cruel? Miller is too old. He won't last the night. Waiting for death is scarier than death itself..."

I raked him by the collar again:

"Von Schnitzel, if this old scandal, having lived to his grey hairs, has had no loving children, no respectful pupils, no reliable neighbors who can care him through to his proper term, then what the hell do I need a subject like that for!"

"Do you mean they can?"

"You know what my favorite anecdote is? When a man asked the genie for a few trifles and when asked why he didn't choose money, might, or wisdom, he replied: So, could I?"

"I got it, Mr. Baron!"

"Then run! By the time they put the noose around his neck, everyone should know what's going on! And don't let the tourists get too close. It's only our business!"

"Yes, Mr. Baron!"

I read the protocol of the trial one more time, with the Baron's beautiful, curly signature and his name speaking for himself. I knew Miller, a scandalous old man. He had even complained to me about something when I met him. But calling names and throwing stones? How could he have been driven to it?

I was torn apart by conflicting desires. I wanted to go, to find the scum that had set me up. I wanted to punch all the locals in the face so that they would wake up and stop living with idiotic ideas about the world, I wanted to sit in a corner and ask God why he had done this to me, but that was all for later. First.... what first? The armory!

I left the faithful mace unattended, going straight to the rack of swords and searching for the right one. Wrong, wrong again... this, maybe? Turning the katzbalger around, I shoved it back in, blunt as hell. Finally, some luck with one of the sabers. Apparently, it was a real weapon because of its unsightliness it had remained in the rack rather than being sold by the former barons. It was long, curved, with a simple hilt without any ornamentation, but even now, it was sharp. Could it cut through the rope in case of trouble? All right, we'll sharpen it.

He sent the servant at the door to the castle workshop and quickly changed into the boyar's dress uniform. If you are going to break a few laws, you should prepare accordingly!

When I opened the door to the courtyard, I almost dove back in - dozens of people, townspeople, castle dwellers, police officers in uniform, town hall staff in national costumes - hundreds of people filled the entire castle courtyard. And they were all looking at me.

In a month, they had all become accustomed to living by the rules of the Middle Ages, but this was a turn they had not expected. The baron-foreigner, the accused and condemned countryman, the gloomy sky, the drizzle of the occasional lulling rain; welcome to the Dark Ages, where human life was worthless!

As if anything has changed since then, though?

I went through the crowd to the steps of the scaffold without looking at the waiting faces. The condemned man, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, was staring blankly away from me. In the corner, an unfamiliar-looking brat was looking about mockingly, wearing a national dress but with variations; he had high, narrow boots instead of wooden boots. A representative of the prosecution, apparently.

Coughing, which in the silence of the hundreds of silent waiting figures sounded particularly loud, I turned to the old man:

"Mr. Miller, you have been accused by Baron von Kusthiv of insulting his dignity and violating his birthright, and by the laws now in force, you have been sentenced to death. Calling on the right of the elder Baron Elig von Kusthiv has placed you in my hands to see that justice is done. Is there anything you can do to justify your behavior?"

"I... Baron, the bastard started molesting my granddaughter! I couldn't stand it!"

"It wasn't like that! Ellie just complimented the girl a couple of times. Nobody touched her! And the old man jumped on us, even though we could have stayed at his house. It's the law!" The big man in the corner spoke with a pleased grin, and it was clear that he was not clever, which was why he had been left behind. However, that was not the only reason. "Everything was fair: the trial, the verdict, and the transfer. Yours, you hang him. You are too spoilt. You do not observe the right laws!"

"Von Schnitze?"

"Unfortunately, Baron von Kusthiv was in the right." The steward climbed up onto the platform and stood beside him. "In the laws of the Esks there is a reference to the right of lodging, according to which barons, while on the road, may stay in any house, if necessary, but for no more than one night and one day."

"I see. Well, I can only pardon, according to Truth, tomorrow. Mr. Müller, are you a believer?"

"Baptised, Mr. Baron."

"All right, you can pray before the execution." I looked back at the smiling big man, and he was suddenly wary. "Put him in the cell. I don't like him. We'll judge him in the morning."

"What?!" But he was already being dragged to the door to the dungeons, with kicks on the way. I caught a glimpse of him and watched Fisk placing a sturdy stool under the hinge and helping the prisoner up. The scaffold was wide enough, about five meters across, so that even with a few people standing on it the surrounding people could see everything clearly. It was a tourist attraction - a gallows! Anyone could try the role of the condemned man...

The silence in the gathering dusk was interspersed with the sounds of everyday life. A cow was mooing in the barn. Something was clanking in the tower, and a car drove past the gate. Someone coughed, and a wave of coughs went through the yard.

We stood in silence, waiting for the signal, and finally Eggie peeked out of the window, showing the clock:

"Sunset!"

The guard put a noose around the neck of the man standing on the stool, the execution formally began. I nodded reassuringly to Miller and ordered:

"Begin!"

The pale but upright old man sighed and began:

"Pater noster qui est in purpose..."

A man of the same stout, red-faced build, with only less grey in his moustache, walked past me and stood beside the old man. The husband of his eldest daughter, who had arrived from the capital of the federation an hour before, was slightly taken aback by what was happening, but stood and carefully held his father-in-law under his elbow. So far his help was not required, but... the octogenarian would not stay in one place all night without help. Or would he?

I turned away, walked through the still-parting crowd to a chair in the courtyard, and, sinking heavily into the chair, placed my sword in my lap. There was silence in the court, and dozens of people standing around silently stared now at the scaffold, now at me. Look, look. You could have stopped the trial, you could have hidden the criminal from the 'evil me' by turning him in the morning, you could have imagined anything - but you waited! Look now.

I touched the sharpening stone to the edge and held it out. Now the sound of the blade being sharpened was woven into the words of the prayer.

There were ten paces of empty space between me and the nearest townsfolk, and for some reason no one risked entering the exclusion zone. There was me and there was them. Authority and subjects. Perhaps it is right, the authority is always perceived as something alien, it is always easier for people to tolerate an alien ruler. It does not matter whether a stranger by blood or spirit - the main thing is not to be one's own, then it is somehow easier. I'm just a perfect match.

And they demonstrate this to me so clearly.

I don't know if the steward had to muster up the courage to enter this circle of emptiness, but he soon came up to me and after a minute stood there began to console me:

"Alexander, you must not blame yourself. According to the Truth of Esks, a nobleman must root out evil where he sees it. Miller is not your vassal, which means the visiting baron had the right to pass a sentence on him. And to pass the right of execution to you, the oldest baron in the land. By insulting one baron, Miller has thus insulted all and every nob..."

"Fuck such nobility."

"This is the reality of the past, the way our ancestors lived. By the way, it's pretty much the same now."

"Egilbert, stop looking for excuses. Tell me better - if I had overturned the sentence, how would it have affected my status as an "elder"?"

"It would cast doubt at the very least." The old man answered without hesitation and nodded to himself: "But von Kusthiv cannot claim the title anyway. Next up is Ewald von Welleschwarm. Do you think they are in cahoots?"

"I don't think anything anymore, Egilbert. I'm waiting for the morning."

Von Schnitze sulked as he began to fumble with his cuffs again, then resolved and coughed:

"I'm afraid, Alexander... Mr. Baron, I haven't been entirely honest with you. You see, you can't sell the castle."

"Tell me something I don't know, Egilbert."

"Oh, is that so? I thought..."

The old man fell silent.

"What you thought is your business, and I checked that possibility on the first night. The Majorat is not transferable. It's strange that the castle is for sale."

"The castle was bequeathed to me as a mediator so that I could find a new, worthy owner for it. I wanted to put it in the hands of some rich man first, but everyone who wanted a title, and didn't want to spend money on renovating the castle. And I love Gravstein too much to give it to such a person."

"I knew there was something fishy going on."

"I would have given you your money back, just like the others. But I had to find a new baron as quickly as possible, and you, Alexander... made quite an impression on the solicitor. He's a local, and he also cared about the castle, so he thought you'd be a good fit."

"A young fool who doesn't know a damn thing about local realities, who genuinely thinks he's only buying a piece of paper, and who wouldn't think of going to check?"

"And who immediately wrote the paper allowing me to do exactly what I wanted to do."

"What about the reports?"

"I know foreign languages so bad that I might have written the address wrong when I sent them."

"It's all a lie."

"Excuse me, Alexander. The fate of the castle... is too important to me."

"I'm not offended, Egilbert. What about you? You could become a baron and do all the same things."

"How could I, Alexander? The von Schnitze family are hereditary stewards, not owners!" He even straightened slightly in indignation. However, the impulse immediately faded. "The children didn't want to stay here. Only the youngest had been brought up in the spirit of the Oldtimers, the others..." He sighed. "A barony needs a master, and I couldn't do that. You were better at it."

My grim look of twenty-three years of 'failing' esk didn't notice.

With another apologetic shrug the old man stood up, adjusted his waistcoat like a uniform and walked off with his hands behind his back. He did not look back at the scaffold.

Coughing, attracting attention, Sato stooped to his right, kneeling and bowing in a completely Oriental fashion without straightening up:

"I have a confession to make, Mr. Baron."

"In what?"

"I tricked my way into the castle!" The boy was clearly worried but very oriental: tense, straightened, only his fists on his knees clenched.

"Is that so?"

"I am not a descendant of samurai, my family are tradesmen."

"Yeah? So what?"

"I took someone else's place, the place of someone who could have helped you!"

"Yeah, right. Although... I've heard that in Japan they teach swordsmanship in schools. How do you think you can cut a rope with the first try?"

The boy looked at the sabre outstretched to him with a strange expression, as if dreaming of grabbing it, then twitched, looked back at the gallows and shook his head:

"Forgive me, sir. I..." he fell silent and then continued, carefully concealing his feelings, "I am not a real samurai, I only pretend to be one, and therefore I am not worthy to take up arms. I've been training since Junior High, but... maybe I should have joined a volleyball club, as my friends said. Seven years of lessons, and I'm not sure I can do it. I'm afraid of letting you down. Forgive me!" And he bent over in half again.

So what can I say?

"You know, Sato, I'm not sure I can cut the rope on the first try, either. And I'm not sure I'm a good baron. And that I'm good at teaching you. But even though I'm doubtful, I'm still sharpening my sword. Someone of your countrymen said: "If you only need a sword once..."

"You have to carry it all your life."

"Otherwise, this could be the last time. Okay, for me, but when other people's lives depend on you, there is no time for doubts. If you have to do it, do it."

He turned his head and looked at the condemned man for a long time. Miller was beginning to tire, pausing in prayer, leaning on the shoulder of the next man who approached in earnest.

"If I cut the rope, your honor will be hurt."

"Well, roughly speaking, all that would be questioned is my status as the eldest of the barons of the land of Esk and the right to judge their disputes. But like hell, I'd trade a dubious right for the life of one of those who depend on me. Fuck this "honorary title", Sato. I can live without it."

"I'm not ready. I don't dare... I'm sorry!"

"Ready or not, it's up to you to decide. You've been handling weapons more than any of the squires, and I'm sure your sword is sharp enough. And since you say you know a bit about swordsmanship, I'd feel safer if you stood there, at the edge of the platform, ready to back me up a bit."

"I... - the boy lowered his head again. "You are too kind, sir! I am not worthy of your trust!"

Ah, such youth and its antics. He must have slipped Katzman the money, blushing and sweating, and now he waits every night to be exposed. And then there's that damn execution.

"Really? Well, if you're looking at it that way, of course." Squire lowered his head even further. "But let's not forget that there are other ways to look at it. Sir Ulfric has remarked that you are the most dutiful and obliging of the squires. Sir Erraine has gladly accepted your considerations for some sort of festival." I held up my hand, stopping the boy's retching. "Yes, I know you all came up with it together somehow. But if the other squires only laughed, you decided to actually suggest it and insisted. Eggie keeps begging me to send you to him, saying you can make any technique work."

"My father owns a repair and tuning company... I've been handling appliances since I was a kid."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. And the tourists are happy with you, and the old steward, even Isabel was complimentary. So basically, you have what it takes to... to be, if not a knight, then a worthy squire. Knowledge, diligence, reliability. You happen to have a sword. You just need to take that last step."

"Which one?" He looked at me as if preparing to make that very move. It was a shame to cut such an impulse short.

"How should I know? I can show you the ways. You have to choose for yourself."

We were silent. The Japanese was drawing something with his finger on his knee, and I was still using the sharpener on the steel.

"I am guilty, sir."

"So what else?"

"The castle was under siege, and I was alone in using provisions without sharing them with others."

"So you're the one who ate the sägdimirl?"

He bowed and took the time to straighten up. What a fool, how he likes to be guilty of something! He wants to commit hara-kiri here, to make up for it!

"All right, I admit your guilt. And I sentence you to eat all the leftovers!"

"A-Ah..."

"It seems that only you are capable of eating this crap anyway. Even the locals have started complaining that tourists are throwing this "exotic delicacy" all over town, stinking up the place. Do you really like it?"

"Very similar to what we do at home."

"Yes - the sea too, lots of seaweed and shells and no decent food. Stop worrying. We've got work to do. Get over to Eggie's, and check on the cars. We'll have to make a trip in the morning. We should be all set. Then stand with your sword on the platform."

"Hai!" He broke into another bow and snapped sharply. What a kid, and he's nineteen, isn't he? He is a boy. The cockroaches in his head are big and loose, so he gets carried away from time to time.

"Sir Baron?"

"Norman? Decided to confess something too?"

"What? Oh, no, I just wanted to ask..."

He didn't have time to finish. In the silence of the castle courtyard, filled with dozens of people waiting patiently, the sound made everyone freeze, though there was nothing so scary about it. It was just the cracking and creaking of wood breaking away. And immediately an involuntary sigh from the multitude of witnesses who turned to the scaffold: Miller stood swaying, and beside him froze in horror an elderly woman, either daughter or daughter-in-law, completely unprepared for such a turn - the old man, clutched in the noose with both hands, fumbled with one foot in the air, under the other a stool crumbled, from which pieces were chipping with an eerie slowness.

There was a passageway to the scaffold in front of me, and suddenly there was a mass of townsfolk jerking and obstructing my way. I could only shake them off with my sword above my head and watch as the leg of the stool split in half and fell off. Mayor was the cleverest of them all; while I was trying to find a way to jump on the scaffold and cut the rope without hurting anyone, Sir Erraine stepped to the wheezing convict and put his arms around him, and lifted him. The old man was no lightweight, having gained weight over the years, so something had to be thought of quickly. Set up a new stool? Damn, cursed laws and thrice cursed conventions, the execution could not be interrupted, not like this...

"Smartass, take a knee next to him!"

The cleverest of my squires nodded as he jumped, dropping down beside the patiently held knight and pulling his twitching leg toward him. Miller found his footing and pressed the weight of his body against the knee. Elil gritted his teeth but endured.

"Standing! Here we go!"

"Dan, help him!"

Yes, my lord!" The Texan collapsed at the feet of the executed man, forcibly grabbing the other leg and placing it on his knee. Miller, still held by Sir Erryn, cautiously crouched down and even found the strength to remove one hand from the noose, clutching at some townsman's shoulder. The woman standing beside him sobbed helplessly, her mouth covered with the palm of her hand.

I caught my breath, wiped my sweaty forehead, and looked up at the sky. It was a long way to dawn, but the executioner was standing more or less firmly. Someone had angrily shoved the wreckage of the stool to the ground, and big Fisk shrank back miserably, though no one had said anything to him. I'd have to reprimand him and calm him down before he started blaming himself.

"Erdar, you bastard! Why didn't you check your inventory?"

"My Lord, I..."

"Silence! Two weeks with no wine ration!"

"Yes, Sir Baron. I..."

"Never mind, don't do that again in the future. Smartass, Dan, how are you?"

"He's standing fine. Add someone else under his arm."

"Alex."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Sir Erraine, line up a shift, ten minutes per man. Selection by height and weight."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Miller, a prayer, for fuck's sake!"

"Pater noster... qui es... in celis..."

Sir Ulfric was angrily tearing a twig. He had nothing to do, there was no mess, and with his sparrow build, he could not stand up near executed man. So, what to occupy him with?

"Guards to clear the aisles to the platform. You stack up like sheep!"

"Yes!" The policeman was immediately relieved, ordering the diverging Gravsteins away in an orderly fashion.

Once again, I looked around the courtyard, returned to my chair, took my saber, and sharpened it. Look, good townsfolk, your superiors are calm and busy, which means everything is going as it should. Even if I want to kick you for your idiocy! Ah, you good and kind people, who lawfully, at the word of a scoundrel, sent one of your neighbors to his death, what are you doing? Though, what do I know about you? What does anyone ever know about another human being?

My squires - who are they? Well, they're young, sensible guys. They've had an easy qualification in the competition, live together, make fun of the only girl on the team

Why have I noticed Sato standing and looking at the kitchen door several times? He's only drawn there when I send Marty out to practice throwing. So there's something between them?

Smartass, chubby, and always deliberately setting himself up for stupid situations - why does he do that?

Norman, the older of them, is already a practicing doctor. Why would he need "squire training"? Dan and Robert had become friends lately, going everywhere together, but they hadn't exchanged a word all night - why? Marty - why is she like that? Teenage dope or something serious in the past? Egilbert, seemingly the personification of common sense - how did he allow this idiotic situation to happen?

Eggie, Fisk, Magda - constantly around, constantly in sight, and all as, if you think about it, unfamiliar as they were a month ago.

I once had an acquaintance, who found herself working as a cashier in a supermarket, and she found it fun to "forget" to punch in a purchase and "gift" it to a customer. The point of the game was to guess who would return the excess and who would keep it, and she succeeded once in a hundred or so. Neither appearance, age, nor the value of the purchase gave a clear result. Two years later, she became the director of the shop, so the game was different - guess which cashier was playing such a game. Well, there are fewer surprises, of course. Although, surprises do happen.

Humans, they're interesting animals. Weird.

The grinder smoothed the steel, whispering something unpleasant, the cold of night crept under his cloak, torches crackled, a generator buzzed, sounds came from the outbuildings, and every ten minutes mayor gave a low command, changing the men standing by the gallows.

The townspeople were silent.

At one moment, I checked the blade and realized there was no point in sharpening further, but I kept the stone moving anyway to keep my hands busy. In the darkness of the castle courtyard, surrounded by high walls, it was impossible to see the horizon, so I jerked nervously when, at the same time, an alert rang out on the phones of dozens of people crowding around, and a shout came from the top of the donjon:

"Sunrise!"

"Great. Get the decree over here! Take him down!"

While the finally exhausted "criminal" was being removed from the scaffold, Egilbert quickly slipped me a paper, and with five strokes of my pen, I signed the pardon, as well as abolishing all laws within the barony, implying the death penalty. You should have done it sooner, you fool!

"Sato! Are the cars ready?"

"Yes, my lord!"

"Where are you going, Alexander?"

"To visit someone! You've got too many barons here, we've got to reduce the number of such animals!"

I gripped my sabre and rushed to the gate.

* * *

I witnessed a very beautiful ritual in Gravstein. Impressive, it reeked of antiquity! I didn't quite understand what was going on, everyone was too busy to explain, and I couldn't get close enough, but I hope the ritual will be repeated soon - very enthralling, very much so!

from the blog, #travel, #beautiful

Chapter 19

What I like about Eskenland is its size. We drove thirty minutes to Kusthiv, drove around the sleepy, gradually waking town, talked to the rare locals, and after making sure that none of them had seen their baron in three weeks, we drove back.

The morning walk in the cold was refreshing, and the sandwiches Magda had put in the car on the way back made me feel a little lukewarm. I was ordered to stand on a hill from which I could see the harbor, the castle roofs, and the rising sun, and I got out of the car, leaving my sword behind, and sat down on a rock to look out over the gray-blue sea, feeling the stress of the night drain away.

That's a good joke they played on us! What am I going to do about it? And I have to somehow extinguish the people's anger that I snapped at them for nothing: now the townspeople will start looking for someone to blame so as not to be the one to take the rap for it. They say he tortured an elderly person for the sake of his status, a tyrant. They did everything right, according to the law, but I, of course, had to act fairly.

So we have to think about what to do "smartly".

Elil coughed behind me, holding out a thermos of coffee. The spear was under his arm, and the shield on the cart he'd slipped into the boot. Smartass had shown recently that he could make good on any punishment - the shield now showed my semi-legal coat of arms, an open grave with a black tombstone against a scarlet background. So unfolding it with the coat of arms forward, the squire on the other side unfolded the rag with the advertisement. A new one each time. I don't know who advised him to do this, Izja or Egilbert, but if it was necessary to scold someone, Smartass would get it again.

In the meantime, I pretended not to notice anything. The bosses are so inconsiderate, yeah.

"Sir Baron? What are we going to do next?"

Judging by the shadows behind me, all the squires were now lined up in a semicircle.

"What do you suggest?"

I hadn't smoked since I was a kid, but now I suddenly felt like it. Not to inhale smoke, but to twirl the pack in my hands, stretch a cigarette, gazing wisely and thoughtfully at the sea horizon in the distance. It's supposed to be at times like this.

"Shall we look for the bastard?"

I hummed. Yeah, you'll find him now.

"We'll fulfill our obligations under the siege treaty. Ewald certainly has nothing to do with it. Then I'll have lunch with the castle guests. Then I'll pay a visit to the town for an inspection. I haven't been seen there for a couple of days now. It's time. Lots to do today."

"So we're not even kicking this scum?!"

"Marty, our dear combat and very hot buddy - what can we charge him with?" I didn't turn around, but I could see the girl's menacing squint, as well as the other henchmen's snide smiles. "He was taking advantage of the situation, a loophole in the laws, for some sort of advantage of his own. A classic intrigue, where the victim is forced to work for the villain voluntarily, by circumstance."

"What was he trying to achieve with this?" Norman, the most rational of the squires, was not asking me but rather with me.

"A good question. And any good question has an answer. Let's look for it in these words - "what", "he", "with this" and "wanted to achieve". I wasn't talking for them, and I wasn't talking for Fisk, who was listening at the machines. I had to say out loud all the things I had been thinking about during the night.

"What - if I hadn't fulfilled my, so to speak, legitimate duty as the eldest of the barons, that status could be called into question. I don't mind. Ancient customs aren't always reasonable, but someone really needed it right now. He - the main villain is Elig von Kusthiv, a young man of thirty-two, who hardly ever appears in the barony. What he does in life is unknown. Only there is talk that he matches the family name and even managed to serve time somewhere for criminality. If he had dragged the girl to the hayloft, I would understand. If he had tried to take something by force, it would also be understandable. But this sharp-looking lad had the money for a retinue of foolish but tough fellows, and he knew ancient customs from somewhere."

"That's not him!"

"That's right, Alex. So he was working for a third party. Moving on from "with this" to what, exactly? Attempt on old man Miller's life? By questioning any of my rights? The very fact of using an ancient custom? Or something as yet unknown to us? It's not clear. "Wanted to achieve" what? What I would do is clear, Miller is, after all, my man, and I would try to get him out. But I would be breaking an ancient custom, which means... someone needs the legitimacy of doing something to change my status." I am silent. "And only our esteemed local historian von Schnitze can explain what is going on." I took my phone out of my pocket, remembered with a grunt that I had switched it off for the night, and clicked it. Nine missed calls! Trying to call Ewald didn't work either. His phone was silent. "Something had happened to him. To the castle! To the cars!" The squires were racing ahead of me.

At the entrance to the castle, I was surprised to see Von Welleschwarm's men getting into cars and waving goodbye to us. I decided to check the matter along with the others, so I passed the townspeople who wanted to say something to the squires, saying that the young men would collect all the complaints, and then we would work, and I rushed to the donjon myself. Von Schnitze Junior was already running towards me.

"Eggie, where's Dad?"

"What?"

"Yes. Having carefully reviewed the agreement you and Mr von Welleschwarm made, I found no point in fulfilling it."

"What do you mean you "found no point"? You didn't make the deal, so you can't cancel it."

"I have a different opinion. All this extravaganza is a waste of my client's resources. So I'm going to end the hopeless enterprise."

"Have you decided to surrender?"

"On the contrary, I suggest you do so."

"That's something I'm not going to do. Strong walls, brave fighters - it would be foolish to agree to surrender."

"For nothing. As far as I know, your manager has dispatched most of the men, so your available force at the moment is ten or fifteen?"

"By the way, if I decree that all those who join me are exempt from taxes, half of your soldiers will defect to me on the same day. And the rest the next day, after they've burned down your headquarters."

"Oh, I am aware of your methods. I'm afraid they won't work in this case. My squad is made up of people who will need some kind of advice and help once they join the Federation. I'm capable of giving it to them. Only me. Everything is perfectly legal and beneficial to all parties to the treaty, so they won't betray it."

I looked at him skeptically. There must have been some humanity left in the official's soul, so he averted his eyes and blushed a little.

"Nevertheless, bloodshed is not in my plans, so I suggest you surrender. I promise good treatment, decent conditions, and release in a fortnight."

"The answer is no. I could surrender to old Ewald. He's a man of honor but to you? No way."

"In that case, in thirty minutes we will begin!" Fritz turned on the spot and staggered away. Prussian blood was obvious. You could see the mercenaries marching at random, as long as they did not drag their weapons along the ground. It is nothing, the Russians have always beaten Prussians, and the Romanian baron will smash them into mush.

"Close the gate!"

Without turning around, I walked into the courtyard, climbed up the wall, and looked carefully at what was going on below. They were getting ready to set something on fire. At least some of the jerry cans had been taken out of the car. Damn, how convenient for the locals: give them an order, and they'd be gone. Ours would've stayed to gawk, or done overtime on their own for the fun of it. We could have turned them over, but these guys... They got the order to burn, they'll burn. And shoot. And I have really eighteen boys and girls, plus four old men, plus myself. We could run, of course, but I reckon that would somehow benefit my main enemy. Yeah, should I give the order to boil the tar? Although we don't have any tar... we could melt down a collection of Von Schnitze records.

"Baron-san?"

"What, Sato?"

"What will the appointments be today?"

Oh yes, I'm sending them out to "internships" at this time.

"Check the armor and weapons. Sato, with me, stay close by. Smartass and Norman to the courtyard to help Eggie. Dan and Alex are in reserve, so you can rest for now."

"And me?"

"You?" I glanced at Marty. The martial buddy frowned as she waited for me to mock her again. Well, it's a sin to disrespect someone else's expectations: "So you're willing to give in to the guys on anything?"

"I'm not inferior in any way!"

"Great. You peel potatoes in the kitchen until tonight."

"For what?!"

"For bickering."

"But I'm not bickering!"

"And after the potatoes, you'll be scrubbing pots and pans." That's what Katzman, who had already come up, said. "Because the squire's correct answer to his lord is to be done, Your Grace."

I put my palm up, Izya gives me a high five.

"Squire Marty, we're not playing games here. If you're sent to the kitchen, it's necessary!"

"What to do there? Today the Welshwarmers wouldn't even let a food truck through for tourists, and there's only half a sack of potatoes! What are we going to eat tomorrow if these assholes start laying siege in earnest?"

"To hell with it, we'll slaughter a cow, enough for a week. We'll have some fresh meat at the same time. My favorite childhood treats are haematogen and homemade sausages!"

"Haemato-gen..." Smartass quickly clicked his PDA, peered at the result, hiccupped, and asked again: "Home-made sausage, eh? How did you make it?"

I, wearing the collar they had brought, explained at length and tastefully to the city's youth how a pig was first slaughtered, butchered, blood drained, intestines cleaned, minced, and sausage made. The squires slowly changed color from their customary piggy-pink through blue to green.

City kids, what do they know about delicious and healthy food? In my childhood, there were epidemics of pseudoscientific beliefs like "it's bad to eat eggs from spotted chickens" when a product was suddenly considered very, very bad, and a child was given it with caution. The mother was frightened by the terrible bacteria that crawl out of the fridge at night and scratch at the bedroom door, and the result is that the son has a lifelong conviction that the real delicacies are by-products and homemade sausages.

I was amid a gastronomic fantasy, and I pointed out that it was time for some breakfast or even lunch. The boys who had taken the hint scattered, the girl, muttering angrily under her breath, walked away, looking around, and Sato politely stepped back. The Gascon, on the other hand, moved closer, peering sideways at me and behind the wall.

"Katzman, fun is fun, but I think the jokes are over. They're going to shoot here, and they're going to shoot at us. What, you don't want to give up your position?"

The chief of the guards, who at this point was curling his fingers and counting the crossbowmen in preparation, wiped his forehead nervously and answered in a sudden, clear-cut voice:

"You know what I'll tell you, Sir Baron? My Gascon mother may curse me if I die here, but the ancestors who slaughtered the Canaanites will understand their descendant! I'm staying!" He swallowed suddenly, quickly crossed himself, and added, "though, I am a little scared, Alexander Nikolayevich. Maybe...?"

Maybe

"Izya, get both cannons ready to fire!"

"I am not an artilleryman!"

"Didn't you ever do any homemade stuff when you were a kid? It's no more complicated than that. Go for it!"

"But we don't have any gunpowder at the moment! The supplier won't bring a new one until this evening!"

"Izya, so that in twenty minutes, the cannons are loaded and standing in front of the gate!"

"Yes, Sir Baron! Oy-wey, why do I always have such bosses?"

Who's to say why I have such subordinates?

"Sato, report on the castle."

The Japanese bowed and began to deliver the news.

Strangely enough, nothing about the events of that night has yet to reach outside the city walls. It would seem that a lot of people were involved, everyone had relatives, and everyone wanted to tell, to share, but no, not a word! However, I think a lot is going on in the world that we are not even aware of. Small towns on the outskirts of the world are not so sleepy and serene.

More interestingly, someone on my behalf canceled all the tourist excursions. This was done just as I was foolishly running off to spill the guts to an unknown enemy. At the same time, busloads of mercenaries appeared at various exits out of town - they were probably meant to hold me up if Egelbert had reached me - and only when he and Von Velleschwarm had left the castle did the vehicles move in.

I didn't listen any further. So far, everything was going exactly according to notes - and it wasn't me who had the lead. Sadly. I was still in danger of taking part in the bloodbath, as I had been pushed to do many times before. Somebody wants trouble in Eskenland... I've already figured out who. Yesterday I was not sure, but now I understand. All that remains is to understand why. Something I don't know, some local trick known only to connoisseurs. And only one of them was taken from under my nose, along with a possible ally. Elepar must be sleeping it off after last night... I pulled out the phone and tried to call - it was disconnected.

"Get the head of the guard here, quick!"

Sato raced down the stairs, and I glanced down once more. The gasoline and crossbows were now joined by large, stubby metal shields for two people. Prepared, bitches. You can't do that quickly. So what do we do with you? No, what to do is clear, but then what?

I was only distracted by the indignant noise behind me:

"No gunpowder, Your Grace! N-o! Provide me passage beyond the wall and thirty minutes - all will fire non-stop, as I hate to say where, at whom, and in what place! Alles! Non, nicht, no! And even if there was, where can I find you a gunner in five minutes? It's his day off!" The Gascon was prepared for me to start accusing him in some way, and so he defended himself in advance by attacking. "I am a professional, of course, and I can get anything, but how can I get it if my hands are tied? And guns without gunpowder don't shoot!"

"Hush, hush... That's not what I'm talking about. I'll never believe in my life that they haven't contacted you. I think it's time for a betrayal." And I pointed my finger at the guns, then nodded, pointing somewhere behind the wall. Katzman looked back, rubbed his chin, and shrugged:

"Do you think so, Sir Baron?"

"I sense it. Don't get it cheap!"

"It's an insult!" Pulling out his phone as he went, the Gascon hurried off somewhere with the most mysterious look.

"Does Mr. Hachimoto really intend to betray you? Or is this a military trick?" Sato looked after Katzman, who was already whispering something into his phone, squinting his eyes and putting his hand on his sword.

"Maybe he really is. Only, you see, it doesn't matter which side he's on. No matter what he does, you have to be able to turn it to your advantage. That's the moment I've been waiting for. Well, if our Brave Mustachioed Man can save some for his old age, that's fine with me."

"I noticed his mustache had come off... a little."
https://youtu.be/VCCv7V01ZEo

"Sato! It's not appropriate to hint at people's little shortcomings! Maybe poor Izya has been dreaming of a posh Zaporozhe-style mustache all his life. It's not his fault he got two strands of hair from his parents, is it?"

"I beg your pardon!" There you go. He is bowing again.

"Find all the squires. Bring Fisk. We won't wait for a siege. It benefits the enemy."

"Shall we attack?"

"You'll find out. Run!"

After seeing him off, I first leaned back, then slid down the wall and sat down right on the rocks. The sky is blue, there are birds, and there is some working noise in the city. Here, the horn is from the harbor. We have a siege here, we are preparing to fight, to shed blood, and there people live peacefully and do not care about our squabbles... By the way, why don't I call in the knights? But we shouldn't. Either we will win on our own, or the enemy will reach some of his goals.

"Gravsteins! We, the subjects of Baron von Welleschwarm, invite you to surrender! We promise everyone good treatment, hot food, and respect for all rights! You cannot win! We are outnumbered, but we don't want bloodshed!" A mechanical voice from behind the wall made me a jerk, and I looked out: a police megaphone, placed on the roof of one of the cars, was broadcasting; the besiegers were bustling about, gathering around a familiar figure and listening to something.

Yeah, so Katzman's already made a deal. Then it's time to get started. It's almost lunchtime, and I haven't had anything to eat! Where the hell are those squires?!

Cranking myself up to make my intonation more angry, I quickly stood up, leaned over the wall, and shouted:

"Hey, down there! Negotiations! We need to talk! Thirty minutes in front of the gate!"

The megaphone quacked and whistled, then Leser's voice rang out:

"Ten minutes and not one more! Attempts to resist will be firmly prevented!"

"Fifteen!"

"Ten!"

I waited a moment as if pondering, and then agreed:

"Ten! Go to the gate!"

Again there was a squawk, a whistle, and an apparently dictated voice on the recorder just as lifelessly continued:

"... attitude, hot food, and respect for all rights! You can't win..."

Well, we'll see about that.

Quickly giving my orders, I made my way to the exit of the donjon, where my main hope of victory stood. The cannons were, as von Schnitze had explained, Napoleonic, old, the polished bronze glowing dully and menacingly. And the caliber was such that my fist would fit. They were supposed to have other carriages, but these, with their big wheels and almost modern-looking wheels, made them look more imposing. Fisk and I, with some foul language, pulled first one and then the other out, setting them side by side and aiming for the gate. When I looked around I found five of the lads beside me, laughing as if they hadn't been in front of a fight.

"What's the fun, young people?"

"Finally found out who was studying for what. We've got the full set here - there's the warrior dwarf, I mean Dan is a metalworker, there's the forest archer Alex is from Woodville and has won prizes at school, Robert is a barbarian gent with a long sword, there's even the squad healer Norman! And Marty is just the quintessential witch! A descendant witch of Chaos! And I'm a sage wizard!"

"Mmm... a normal team. And what?"

The youth looked at me with a "what did you expect from him?" look, but as soon as I opened my mouth, someone shouted demandingly from outside the gate.

"Get ready!"

"Yes sir!"

Norman stood by the right cannon with a smoldering cord as the most responsible, Fisk by the left.

I stood in the middle, with my hands on the barrels. I had to stretch out a little for the sake of the spectacular posture, but what could I do? Finally, Sato waved his hand from the tower, and I ordered:

"Open the gate!"

The gate opened slowly for a long time. The opening was marked by the cheerful faces of the kusthiv men and by the satisfied look on Leser's face as he was supposed to be standing in the front. He saw the guns as they came in but smiled. The flaps slammed against the walls, and the victorious procession entered the castle courtyard.

"Attention, I suggest that everyone drop their weapons and surrender! Otherwise, we will open fire. The cannons are loaded with buckshot!"

The cheerful laughter in response was a little disconcerting. We're in the middle of an important moment, and all anyone does is laugh!

"Unfortunately, Mr. Mogila, we know for a fact that you have no gunpowder." Leser took a couple of steps forward. "You have lost! I'm prepared to accept your surrender... Isn't that why you called me here?" The smiling official half turned to his warriors, and they eagerly cheered him on.

"Not really. I just wanted to show you this. - With a swipe of my foot, I sent a tin of grey powder scattering its tail along the way. "Gunpowder. It's good for these babies as well as some pretty simple hand bombs. Look up." The mercenaries raised their heads as if on cue. Men appeared at most of the windows, holding bottles and cans in one hand and lighters in the other. A whistle blew from the wall, and there stood Dan and Alex, clutching bottles with wicks already lit.

"Just because you have been told something, Mr. Leser, does not mean you have been told the truth. However, the claim that if we shoot now, you will be nothing but mincemeat on the walls, you can believe." I paused for a moment, then commanded. Stand against the wall, and prepare the documents for registration of the status of prisoners of war. If you do not comply, I will feed you with nonexistent powder and make you drink gasoline! Do it!"

The mercenaries, glancing now at the commander, then at the cannons, at the walls, at the tin that had stopped just beside them, began to place their swords and crossbows on the ground in a disciplined manner. A few servants in armor and with ropes came running out of the open door of the dungeon.

"All right, lads. Don't relax just yet, but..."

Marty, stepping out from behind the door, suddenly grinned, waving her hand. A knife flew past my temple, and a thud was heard. I turned sharply, trying to draw my saber. With a snap, an arrow flew past the other temple...

Damn!

The mercenary fell flat, dropping his unloaded crossbow.

"A-aa-ah..."

The girl stood with her hands over her mouth in horror. I had to take a few steps towards the prisoners standing with their hands up and take a closer look.

"All right. You threw the hilt forward. But you hit it right in the center of the forehead. Sato, write Marty a candy bar for saving me and two days of practice on the small target."

I had to ignore the heartbreaking sobbing behind me, keeping my warrior mask on, and not reveal myself - my throat was dry. Damn, I owed that girl a lot! Not sure about the cuirass, but the chainmail on my back would have been punctured.

"I think it's the kind of thing that demands a reward."

"Oh, you'll give the girl a bonus?"

Katzman, who had disappeared into thin air for the duration of the fight, was already hanging around with the most businesslike of looks.

"No. I'll let her leave work half an hour early today."

"Where to go, there are enemies everywhere?!"

"Yes? Well, then he'll stay in the castle."

He nodded in agreement, then picked up a pinch of gunpowder from the ground and sniffed it.

"Aleksandr Nikolayevich, where did we get this? I know for a fact that there was nothing, don't I?"

"Izya, if the bosses don't have personal savings, they are shitty bosses."

"Then why not just throw grenades at them?!"

"Because if the employees think that the management has everything, they are shitty employees. One tin can left, and it's half-empty."

"You mean grenades?"

"With the purest Eskenland air."

Outside the gate, a recorded howl of "Surrender! We guarantee..." was already annoying, although I liked the irony of the situation - the callers were already being tied up and taken to the cells. The real ones, not the tourist ones. Only Leser I ordered to be locked up with Schreiber. The man wanted revenge for a colleague? Let's have a "Two-Taxman-Two" in the castle. A duet to complain to the tourists...

"Young people! Shut up, that talker!"

I waited for someone to run off to turn it off, but the squires suddenly piled on the wheels of the cannon carriage, rolling the gun into the gate. After a minute, there was first a loud "Bang!", then an equally loud "Hurrah!", before everything finally went silent. I didn't disturb them. Let them have fun. Even my hands were shaking, and those of the young ones...

I looked at the car, which was already smoking, and decided that the boys had to be kept busy! However, the squires did not see my displeasure, discussing the gunshot with joy. Young people, all they want is noise and fun!

It was strange that I had not ordered the cannon to be loaded. There was only a tin of gunpowder left, I know, and it would have been useless if the attackers had scattered. And a buckshot round at point-blank range... that's a little overkill. But somebody loaded them, didn't they?

"Fisk, where are you?! Get over here now!"

"Here, Sir Baron!"

"Why were the cannons loaded?"

"So the head guard didn't make it in time, and Sato gave me the order. Is something wrong?"

"That's it."

I imagined him, thinking I had given the order, firing buckshot at the crowded enemy... and shivering again. How many times must I tell you, no joking or reticence with the Eskenlanders! That's a very obliging nature of theirs. Shouldn't he be ordered to do something really unbelievable? Yeah, they'll do it, and then I'll have to deal with it. I've been told war is a faintly predictable thing, but this much?

All right, we got rid of these. Now we have to... What?

"Eggie, call the barons, find out..."

"Already, Your Grace. Nobody's phones are answering."

Slowly exhaling, I, already knowing the answer, asked:

"Is everything OK in Eskenborg? Are the phones working there?"

Five minutes later, it turned out that the second and main castle, where the elections were to be held traditionally, was also silent. The police station there could have been brought up to speed, but something told me that this option was also taken into account.

"Let's pack up!" I've already dialed Sir Ulfric's number. He must know how to deal with the likely capture of all the barons. It's his job description.

"I hear you, Sir Baron."

"Sir Ulfric, I have bad news for you." Quickly recounting everything that has happened since my departure, I suddenly heard:

"Sorry I won't be able to help you."

"You won't?"

"Yes, since it's that bad, I'm needed here in town."

For a few seconds, I tried dumbly to understand what he was saying, but I pulled myself together and asked again:

"So you're not coming?"

"No, I told you - there are more important things to do."

"What if I ask the mayor?"

"I'll call him now too. We will be very busy in the next hour and won't be able to help you."

I was quiet, absorbing the news. So good knights. So loyal vassals!

"So I have to go there and save everyone alone?"

Ulfric answered instantly:

"That would be very helpful. Forgive me, Baron, urgent business. I think Sir Erryn and I can manage soon, but who knows? But you go, really, whatever's going on out there."

Without saying goodbye, I switched off and suppressed the urge to smash the phone against the wall. God knows what. These were normal people. I tell him bluntly that someone is plotting a coup and seizure of power, that we should go and rescue our own, and he says "business, sorry"!

Ugh, what a day! Well, God be their judge, maybe there really is something more important... but what the hell? They're used to being conquered all the time, so they don't bother!

"Sir Baron, I'm ready!"

"You're not going, Marty." I hadn't turned around yet, but the answer rolled off my tongue.

"Because I'm a girl?" There was no familiar emotion in her voice, just a sad stubbornness.

"Because..." I have to think of something. I don't want to take a girl into battle. Fighting is no place for them. Fighting and dying are for men, but how do I explain that to her? "It's going to be hard work."

"I can help!"

"You will help, just... just not there and not like that." Silently, I turned to Sato and yanked his sword from its sheath. "On your knees!"

The girl, momentarily pale, suddenly looked around, then fearfully stepped forward and dropped to her knees. Damn, she's small... She's so small, though she's energetic.

"I, Baron Alexander Mogila von Gravstein, having been convinced on the battlefield of your courage and readiness to defend your comrades-in-arms, hereby knight you. Arise, Dame Marty Adams!" Smartass and Norman stepped forward, gently lifting the first of their company of knights to her knees, jaw sunk and eyes wide. Yes, it's sudden for me too. I can think of no other way. "I ask and demand the service - I am entrusting you to guard the castle. In case of emergency, we must have a place to retreat to, you see what's going on. Now get to work, all of you, quickly!"

"Alexander! Sir Baron, I'm with you!"

"No. I need someone in the castle."

"Mr. Isabel can do it!"

"Half the servants are sure he betrayed us."

"I can fight too! Leave one of the squires behind!"

"Marty, can you single-handedly roll a cannon or move my shield? They can. No one's questioning your authority amongst the servants, though."

Behind him, someone added, in a low voice, something like "There are no fools".

"By the way, what are we standing around for? Get the cannon hitched to the car, quick! And bring my mace!" Sometimes it's better to break arms and legs than to chop off a head... just to make them suffer longer.

Three minutes later, the doors slammed together. Marty stood lost on the porch, I nodded at her to say it was okay, and then the car started.

"Sir Baron, why do we need a cannon?"

I wanted someone to explain to me why we were so busy attaching a bicentennial weapon to a modern Mercedes, but I only uttered it with the most confident intonation:

"You'll see. Let's go!"

* * *

In cultural news, there are local festivals in the north of the Federation with the usual cheerfulness and good-naturedness that are ready to welcome neighbors and tourists.

Lots of great entertainment, scenic views, and friendly locals await your visit!

from an article in Nuheter Politiken Zeitung

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