But the prince! — Suddenly wedged into the conversation, princess. You can't fight him!
— Why I cannot do that?! — Troy was outraged.
— He is not worthy to cross with you with ... Fists! You can just kill him if you really want to!
— Honey, but I don't want to kill him! I want to defeat him! And, in a fair fight. And these are different things!
— Well, then he should become at least a knight — the princess answered clearly.
— So make him a knight! What is the problem?! This is your subordinate. Or give it to me, I will immediately knight him! It's not a problem!
“But he must first prove himself worthy of becoming a knight!” — objected the girl, almost crying. — He must perform a feat or defeat another knight in a fair duel!
— Another knight? I don't see a problem. Do you have knights of his age? Well, there, by right of heritage, I don't know. There must be! Or let him finish with mine, by the way, also a knight.
— He can't finish with your half—dead knight. This would be unfair and undignified for the future defender of the crown.
— I hope, five knights for one to be enough to confirm the dignity?
— We have such! — The king suddenly got involved in the conversation. — Bring five worthy boys. Let this fool's head be unscrewed! Because the shoemakers are already ready to become knights ... Maybe the wordless dud will also want to become kings ... Eh! And where the world is heading... At this pace, we will soon be asking our women how to properly mount a horse and in which hand to hold a sword!
The whole party burst into laughter.
I was finally released. I pressed with clean clothes the blood running from my neck from a specially carelessly removed sharp blade by one of the evilly smiling guards. Fortunately, the cut was not deep, and the wound healed rather quickly.
Cotty, — the prince suddenly spoke, — Can you warm up before the fight? Who's going to bring the guy a practice sword?
— Sword? Why do I need a sword? I don't need it! — I mumbled, shaking my head.
— Do you want combat sword? — Well, okay... Who knows Cotty so closely as to entrust him with his military weapon?
— Well, finally I got lucky! How good it is to be a beggar, a ragamuffin unknown to anyone ... — Before I had time to think about it, my familiar giant with a mustache got out from behind the table and, slowly going around his part of the table, went up to Troy and bowed.
— Your Highness! I, Michelson, the youngest son of Jarl Ragnar, hand over to my friend and worthy warrior my great and mighty sword named Njord! He will quickly subdue any violent slayer, just as Njord himself helped me and my ancestors calm the storms raised by Epirus after an extra glass of wine!
— Well, we understand, we understand... We don't need this heresy here. — The owner of the party cooled the fiery speeches — You're Michelson, baptized! Why then do you tell us your fairy tales ... — The king glanced apprehensively at the priest, who was sitting right behind the princess and attentively listening to this conversation.
— Why just fairy tales ... — The Varangian was offended — My sword really helped. — The big man whispered quite quietly. And having poked me his piece of iron with a belt and a scabbard, he went offended back to his place, which had not yet cooled down from releasing gases during passing the meal.
— Well, let's get started! — The prince briskly drew his sword from its scabbard, helpfully brought by his servant.
I also tried just as vigorously to slam the blade against the wooden scabbard. But for some reason, this infection got stuck there. What I did, how I did not twist and bang the sheath on the floor, the sword did not want to go out.
"Help this fool!" — yelled the bored king. — If you are fighting with your fists the same way, then I am calm for my throne ...
The guests of the party unanimously supported the vassal with a drunken laughter.
The owner of the sword, who arrived in time, could not do anything with it either.
— Michelson, when was the last time you got him? — Asked the prince, tired of standing in the stance, and looking with bewilderment at our unsuccessful attempts. And when we, pulling and loosening in different directions, almost pulled him out, five teenagers were brought into the hall.
— Okay, Cotty, don't worry. I already understood that you have trouble with the sword. — And, putting his magnificent blade back into its sheath, he returned to his place at the table.
I, having returned the semi—drawn sword to the perplexed Michelson, began to knead and warm up the muscles and tendons. Bouncing and throwing my hands in front of me, I finally tried to test what my new body was capable of outside the combat situation.
And I must say that I liked the result. No, there was no huge force, that it could suddenly appear. But after having a thorough snack, I suddenly felt a decent energy boost in the form of a surge of energy never seen before.
I suddenly really wanted "to make the bridge". And I, throwing my hands back, did it! Yes, I not only became easy, but also ran around in this position twice around his own hands. Guy! Yes, you are flexible as a snake! Who are you, guy? Obviously not the spineless and cowardly son of a shoemaker!
***
— Pretender, have you finished your circus act?! — Having taken a vertical position, I saw that an elderly, clean—shaven man in a beret with a bright feather and in red pantyhose with a scroll in his hands came out to the middle of the hall. I nodded.
— That's good. Otherwise, I already thought that yesterday's circus troubadours had forgotten one of their jesters. — Everyone laughed merrily.
— Ladies and Gentlemen! Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Eminence. We're going to have a challenge today! Five worthy sir knights will take turns fighting unarmed against an unworthy knight candidate to confirm the common truth — shoemakers are not knights, but dirt under the hooves of his horse!
— Yes, you got it already with your dirt! — I thought, — I stayed here for a little more than a day, but I can no longer see her, let alone hear about her.
— What does it mean they will take turns? The King suddenly got up from his seat. — Let them all attack him together! And then I'm already fed up with this farce. The old man in red bowed and shouted.
— Simultaneously!
— It's not fair! — Suddenly, the princess jumped up, and came to my defense.
— Father, they're going to kill him! No, he certainly deserves punishment for killing the poor one-legged cripple. But, given that it was the three of them who attacked him, we can still limit ourselves to censure ... Well, or a small spanking, finally. But why kill something!
— Didn't understand?!.. — The puzzled king looked inquiringly at his daughter. — This thin snot dealt with three one—legged men? And even killed one?
“Actually, there were eighteen of them, my king. The prince intervened. — And they attacked him almost simultaneously. He simply had no choice but to defend himself! But one hefty big man, albeit a cripple, after meeting with this son of a shoemaker, did not rise again. This guy nailed the Adam's apple of the cripple to the spine with the heel in a jump. I saw it myself. Terrible sight....
— Eighteen! — Exclaimed the king! Behind him, the whole hall whispered — eighteen, eighteen, and he killed one ...
— Well no! It can't be! Margaery, my daughter, is it true?
— Yes, it's truth. And so I ask you to punish him for this with rods, but not to kill with the help of these innocent, handsome young people! — Half—dressed, the five guys selected for the duel exchanged satisfied looks.
— Sorry, dear, but now I just have to look at this miracle! Cotty, or whatever. Come here.
I obediently approached the evil man with the crown.
— So, — he whispered barely audibly, — if you win, you and your relatives will not pay the land tax for a whole year! Do you keep pigs for the royal kitchen? — I did not know exactly who those pigs were intended for, but just in case, I nodded in the affirmative.
— And if you also defeat the prince, then I will reward you with pigs, and land, and three acres of forest. Although no, one acre is enough for you. And you will not pay all taxes for two years! Apart from the military tax, of course. Everything, come on! Show what you are capable of! The killer of cripplers... — It was clearly visible how sparks of excitement flashed in the eyes of the king.
***
Well, I might be able to defeat these boys. But the prince ... He was painfully sharp and quick to reprisal. I still felt uneasy about the dead one-legged dude. Well, excuse me, man, you climbed on me yourself ... Not even yourself! It was clearly a group attack, after all. I have every right to defend myself in all possible ways and means...
I quickly assessed the situation. Five brats were looking at me. One of them was well—fed, but not from sitting at the computer, but simply from very active taking meals. This one is perhaps the most dangerous, with its weight.
Two more blond, lanky guys grinned maliciously. Oh well, they didn't have long. That's probably all. The two kids who were looking at me in fear were clearly random citizens. Although they could, if anything, confuse all the cards.
The king waved his hand and the fun began. The warriors at the tables were chanting my name, Cot! Cot! And they didn't forget to place bets. I decided not to rely on chance and derive two random components from the equation.
The tactics used by my opponents turned out to be a little unexpected. Instead of swooping in en masse, as their overlord ordered, these idiots did me an invaluable service by pushing two of the weakest fighters ahead of them. It can be seen that they have heard enough fairy tales about eighteen disqualified one-legged football players. Probably they decided to check on whom it is not a pity, what kind of animal turned out to be in front of them!
— Well, thank you! And then I myself wanted to arrange a hunt for them, so that they would not get underfoot.
Two sharp side hooks from the left and right hands, which landed right in the jaw, and my frightened opponents fell right under my feet, and peacefully fell asleep on top of each other to the joyful wild cries of the drunken brethren at the tables.
I move back, waiting for the opponent's move. And he immediately followed, or rather ran at me.
My thick visavi ran like hell, wanting to skate over my thin body and roll me into the local asphalt under the terrible name of mud. It would be foolish to try to stop this machine for laying the same asphalt. But I, spurred on by drunken brethren, for some reason tried to do it. And I decided to brag about my incredible turntable. The initial success, apparently, relaxed me a little.
But instead of hitting the fat mass approaching me in the head, I punched at the fat man's dangling breasts. And then I was thrown to the stone floor. The fat man's comrades were not at a loss, they ran up and beat me so badly that for the rest of my life I vowed to show off beautiful blows in front of the public.
And here I am, with a broken nose, squeezed under the very ribs by the plump, incredibly strong paws of a fat man, I am hanging without reaching the floor with my feet, and taking on a hail of blows from both sides of his sinewy comrades. To my great happiness, they did not know how to beat, unlike the same prince. And I endured these hard pokes relatively easily. Yes, I was in pain, but it was tolerable.
There was comparative silence in the hall. Everyone was waiting for me to be beaten, and I would slide exhausted to the floor. But I was in no hurry to pass out, and the guys were very tired.
And that's when the drunken company began to wave its hands resignedly, they say, what did you want from your son, a shoemaker, a miracle? Well, then you go to church! There are miracles. And here is a brother, the truth of life ... — I tried to escape from the clutches of this fat man. True, I tried before ... And he beat his head and knocked with his foot — he didn’t care at all ... And the supply of fat in him, as well as strength, is enough for ten people like me. Hmm... And what should I do? I had no idea at all...
And these two blond—haired bros, taking a breather, went back to their fighting... It didn’t hurt much, but the punches were piling up, and I felt pretty good about it. Oh, if it could be something sharp here! But even my nails were cut short, and I would never reach in my life with my teeth.
Now, if only here, my father’s terrible scissors were... Or at least the needle that I imagined at night ... I once pricked myself with a curve needle and it hurted a lot... Then I even dropped a cup of coffee — it was so much hurted. If I could only get her in the ass of this fat guy! He would have let me go!
And almost losing consciousness from the mass of missed blows, and even more tightly squeezed thick paws, nevertheless I am painting my saving needle on my fingertips and drive it to the offender under the sweaty shoulder blade with a swing.
— Ah!!! — The crazy cry of the fat man brings me to my senses. — I was bitten by a snake! Help me! — I'm lying on the floor, and this idiot is running around the hall, waving his arms and trying to reach his back. But this is simply impossible to do with such a fat torso.
Without thinking twice, I get up, and staggering, I run after him.
From the outside it looks pretty funny. A barely alive kid is chasing the same kid, but three times bigger. My two other offenders, not understanding anything, simply stepped aside so as not to fall under a train rushing in a circle.
Almost Kotiching up with the strongly yelling young knight, I knock him down in a jump, and then with an accurate blow to the base of the skull, I still stop the screams that made everyone so amused, and sit down on the carcass to rest a little.
Having grasped the situation, two blond brothers, and the fact that they were brothers, I had not the slightest doubt, well, or, in extreme cases, they were relatives, ran at me in the hope of throwing me, sitting, on the floor.
— Here are the bastards! They didn't even let me rest!
I was about to get away from the attack, but suddenly I noticed a surprisingly familiar object on the fat man's body... I was about to get away from the attack, but suddenly I noticed a surprisingly familiar object on the body of a fat guy...
— Crap! Yes, this is it — my needle from a past life!
A crooked needle stuck in almost halfway of his sweat-slicked back. Without thinking twice, I pulled the needle out of his greasy skin, waking up the dormant volcano in this way. Despite his large mass, the fat man blew himself up with such speed that he threw me onto the stone floor and forced his partners to run away. The same time, he rushed to the exit, knocking down the gaping waiters along the way.
— Well, tankers, now let's fight? What can you do without your tank?
I slowly tucked my find into my pants. And under the astonished cries of the guests, I moved on my offenders ...
***
I inflicted biting blows on the torso to one or another juvenile feudal lord without any effort on one technique, paying my due for the previous beating. You shouldn't have kept me like a captured partisan. Now you must feel the pain!
The guys tried to somehow beat back. But they already waved their hands quite well while knocking the breath out of a poor boy. So I had no idea what else they could do to me. Therefore, I almost did not evade retaliatory strikes, compensating for all this with the ability to correctly take a blow.
I wanted these bastards to learn their lesson well. And when they no longer reacted to the next strike that arrived, I did not finish them off, although the screaming crowd was thirsty for blood. And I just stepped aside. One of the fair—haired guys wanted to follow me, but the second grabbed his hand, and shaking his head imploringly, they say, don’t do it, brother, he just fell to the floor, dragging his comrade along with him.
***
What happened there! Everyone chanted: Cot! Cot!
The king left the table, everyone stood up in unison. He came up to me and, tearing me off the ground, kissed me passionately right on my bloodied lips.
— You are really surprised me! Why didn't you kill those bastards? I saw that you could! They wouldn't take pity on you... Oh, yes, you're mute... Well, nothing. You know, how I need such knights! — He yelled, and everyone unanimously supported him with their own, — wow! But remember, kid. You should never leave an enemy alive. If he can bite you even a little, he will definitely do it! There is no place for pity in war!
— Ahe—he! The priest coughed at the table.
— Well, yes ... — The king suddenly came to his senses. — In war there is no place for pity, but there is a place for compassion and generosity! — And again looked at the clergyman, who was already nodding in satisfaction.
— Where is my sword? I will personally knight him!
Literally a minute later, the servants brought the king his sword. They even brought two swords — one was taken to the priest. The priest blessed the sword and put it on me. Then, I was surrounded by dudes in armor and forced to kneel. The king waved his jeweled sword at me. But suddenly he hit me on the neck!
— Remember, Knight! — The King suddenly spoke, — this is the last blow that you can leave unanswered! Stand among your equals!
I stood up. Everyone cheered again:
— Koti! Koti! Koti!
— Well? Now can I add his head to my list of wins? — Prince Troy, who suddenly appeared next to me, spoiled for me and, apparently, for the king, all the festive euphoria, in which only confetti with fireworks was missing for complete happiness.
— Excuse me, prince! — Suddenly the princess took the floor. — But he is now our vassal. And we can't just offend him like that!
— What? — The prince boiled — But he pushed me! Isn't that a reason for a duel?
— Then he was a commoner. And I offered you to kill him! But you didn't want to! And now he is a Knight of the King!
— Well, then I'll push or hit him now! Is that enough to challenge him to a duel?
— If you push him, or even worse, hit him in his own kingdom, knowing that the King Himself knighted him, then you will inflict an indelible insult on the King, and we will have to kill you, and conquer your kingdom! — The princess confused everyone present even more
— Daughter, and what, completely without options? — The King himself, entangled in these intricacies of the laws of his own kingdom, moved his eyebrows and turned to the princess.
— Well, why not. If you and the Prince bet on money, for example, or on land area, then the fight is quite possible.
— Nu here is, Prince Troy! Everything was decided! Let's just place our bets!
— Well, what bets do you want to make? — The dumbfounded boy looked at the king, who was looking cunning like a fox.
— Ok! A real trifle! 50 thousand of golden coins and 2,000 armed soldiers. And all of this is for half a year with full care from you. And my daughter's consent to marriage is from me... But in any case, you will give me 50 thousand for the war. I'm trying for you! Come on, Troy. You are almost like my son—in—law! Even if you lose to this brat, sorry, Sir Koti, but to be precise — to the brat knight, then you will not lose at all, since Margaret will certainly agree to your marriage with her. Am I right, daughter? And we have the oldest family among the 32 kingdoms, by the way!
— I won't lose! — the prince boiled.
— Well, that's what I think! And these bets are needed to bring some variety to our gray, everyday life! Moreover, you came here to marry my dear daughter, and she, by the way, has already refused three handsome men in disgrace. It is difficult to understand what's on her mind ... Did we agree? That's perfect!
— What do you want, sir Koti? — Having heard that in case of victory, I can bring such a considerable profit, I decided to negotiate better conditions for myself.
— Well, come here, don't mumble!
I walked around the hefty table and began to show the formidable king on my fingers that I wanted ten percent of the winnings.
— What do you want? — The King could not understand — Do you want 10 acres? Not? Do you want 10 years of tax evasion? I don't understand... So, 10 acres and 10 years of tax evasion? Okay, you'll have 10 acres and 10 years tax—free. Come on, get ready. Only ... — He called me closer and whispered in my ear:
— I don't want to give my daughter in marriage to this monster. But I don’t know what to do ... So come on, don’t let the old man down, and I, for my part, will do everything!
And the King, turning away, made it clear that the conversation was over.
The same shaven dude in a red pantyhose came out in the middle of the room. After another nasty fanfare, he unfolded the paper and read it.
— Being in good health and in good spirits, King Henry III and Prince Troy made an agreement, according to which, as a result of a fair duel of Sir Koti, — he turned around to be proved that there was no any mistake, but making sure that everyone was listening carefully, what they agreed, continued, — and Prince Troy without weapons, to death, or the inability to continue the duel for health reasons ...
— That is here! — And this is the most important thing that interested me — they can't kill me.
I had little interest in what would or would not happen to the prince. I looked again at the shiny needle in my pants. This sharp thing proved that the impossible is quite possible. So I was not in a hurry to write myself off as scrap. In that case, this self—confident young man can do it for me. Even though I’ve been through a lot today, I felt just fine! And my body, having finally received normal food, very carefully and carefully, down to the smallest piece, turned it into the energy I needed so much right now.
And since almost a thousand years of progress and knowledge separated the prince and me, the advantage was clearly in my direction. Yes, and my reach life experience was giving me much priceless experience! If this young talent had been in as many fights as I have, it would have been king of the universe! So I did not tremble at all from fear of a formidable opponent. On the contrary, I was confident in myself completely and unconditionally. I felt like a boa constrictor at the sight of a rabbit, or vice versa ...
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