The inn he was staying at was quite expensive and dedicated to foreign customers. He had some time left until the evening, so he decided to eat some local delicacies, try some local wine and then take a walk around the area. The climate in Katamira was milder and when the sun was shining, like today, the temperatures were above zero and Moros could feel the coming of spring. He ordered a rabbit stew with local red potatoes and herbs, which gave the food an unusually aromatic smell. Combined with a strong red wine with a fruity note called Sundero, the dish had a wonderful effect. Moros was delighted with this food. As a slave, he always ate whatever his master deemed appropriate, or sometimes he went hungry. To this day, the ability to choose what to eat or drink was a luxury for him. For a moment, he returned to that morning when his whole life had changed, that time near the swamps. He wondered what had happened to the whole caravan, had his red-haired owner survived? If so, she had probably met an unpleasant fate at the hands of the Orchads. Uales mess with people's fates quite a bit, he sighed and drank his glass of wine with pleasure. He wanted another one, but he had a meeting with Machaja ahead of him and he wanted to stay sober so as not to mix anything up.
Evening came relatively quickly. Standing in front of the orange door of the herbalist's house, he felt a strange nervousness. He banged the knocker a few times and waited until the door opened in front of him. Machaja gestured for him to enter. He found himself in a white room again. On the table stood three glass bottles.
"The one with the green cap is a poison that works with a two-day delay, the one with the red cap is an immediate-acting poison, and the clear one is an antidote to the one with the red cap." Machaja said, presenting him with the next bottles.
"Four drops of the green one are enough, it is tasteless and colorless. The one with the red one requires 10 drops per cup. The antidote, exactly one teaspoon, should be consumed two hours before. Despite taking the antidote, the body's reaction will be violent. Abdominal pain, vomiting, and foam at the mouth."
Moros silently noted the information in his memory, then hid the bottles in separate pouches, which were attached to his studded belt.
"How much do I pay?" He asked, looking at Machaja. The herbalist had loose hair that flowed in waves down to her waist.
"For everything, 12 gold arenas."
Moros took the requested amount from the pouch, it wasn't little yet knowing that's the price for a human life. Those few gold coins looked very pitiful in his eyes.
"Here you are ." He handed the herbalist the money.
"Thank you." Machaja took the coins and looked at Moros.
Moros was smitten by the woman's eyes for a moment. He had the impression that she did not want him to leave or maybe he wanted her company? He looked deeply into her eyes and smiled shyly. Machaja returned his gaze, so he felt encouraged and took a step towards her, leaned down and gently touched her lips with his. She smelled of herbs.
"You are not afraid?" She asked with a slight smile on her full lips.
"What should I be afraid of?" Moros was surprised for a brief moment.
"You know who I am, few people stay in my house longer. Everyone wants to get out of here as soon as possible. I trade in death." Machaja's eyes were very serious.
"You trade in herbs" - Moros touched her long, silky soft hair - "The buyers are the ones who decide on their use."
After these words Machaja clung tightly to him, pressed her lips to his and he felt the roundness of her breasts. His hands traveled along her body, lifting her dress up. He kissed her full breasts and knelt to kiss her inner thighs. He heard her moan softly with pleasure under his caresses.He placed her leg on his shoulder and kept pleasuring her with his mouth. He could hear her heavy breath as her hands gripped his hair. Moros didn't want her to come from his tongue only so he stopped, stood up and turned her round only to enter her from behind. She was so insanely wet it felt like heaven. They made love passionately and violently, as if they had only a few moments left to live. Moros did not return to the inn that night.
***
Domir was dragging his legs and forcing himself as he could barely move. He was out of breath and the pain was bursting through his chest. The cold air made his breathing problems worse, he had been running after Gorep's horse for over an hour. He stumbled several times and was dragged along the ground, injuring his knees, elbows and back. Gorsep would slow down then and allow him to get up only to continue this mad run. His wrists were burning like fire, they were rubbed raw by the rough rope.
In the early morning, the great king Gorsep rode into his estate and without a word dragged him out in his shirt and trousers. In his grace, he allowed him to put on his shoes. His estate was searched and grain was found, the surplus of which he had been hiding in an underground granary. It did not help to explain that he was doing it for the king, to help him and provide food. Then, before his eyes, his entire family was executed, including his pregnant daughter-in-law. That was when life lost its meaning for Domir. He ran after the horse, but he was no longer a proud aristocrat but a man broken by pain. Time stood still, the only thing that mattered was catching his breath, step by step and with each stumble they were getting closer to the goal set by Gorsep.
Silence reigned in the village behind the wooden fence. From the outside, nothing revealed the terrible secret it hid. At the sound of Gorsep's horn, the gate was immediately opened and twenty soldiers lined up in two rows on the square next to a spreading tree.
"I greet you, my king." Said Kwadrim, bowing slightly.
"Did everything go according to my wishes?" Gorsep assured himself while getting off his horse.
"Yes, my king. Once a day, a bucket of water. At first they cursed, then begged, for the past week there has been silence." Kwadrim smiled slightly.
"How're your men?" Gorsep pointed to the standing soldiers.
"Well, sir, I chose them myself. No one had a problem with it."
"Very well. - Gorsep pulled the rope that Domir was tied to - Tie him to the stake in front of the temple entrance - saying that he handed the rope to Kwadrim - and break the bricked-up entrance."
The soldiers quickly got to work, after a moment in clouds of exhaled steam and with the sound of pickaxes and hammers the wall separating life from death fell. From the interior erupted first a sickly sweet smell and then the stench of rotting remains.