WITCH KINGDOM

Chapter 1

The clanging of metal, someone's malicious remarks and an indescribable stench, as if I was lying in a puddle with someone's shit, excite all my refined insides, literally forcing me to open my eyes. A couple of meters away from me, crossed swords, someone's unfamiliar silhouettes flicker. Through the pain in my eyes and in my whole body, with difficulty raising my head, I noticed that a group of militant women mixed up in this medieval swarm: some in leather armor and with swords, some with daggers, and some even hand-to-hand. They mercilessly torment each other, cursing the whole wide world, and thereby, along the way, trying to prove to their opponents that they are right.

Ladies fight three on two. And the advantage is clearly not on the side of my sister and my secret admirer

"secret admirer" - the thought flashes through my head, - "I hope this shall work out for me!" But, the idea of ​​kinship that originated in the brain, at some subconscious level, triggers the internal mechanism of any owner. "Protect what you have it might not be clear today but it will" my inner self screams showering strange love feelings.

One of the attackers, having managed to take advantage of the confusion, jumps behind Sigrid, wanting to cut her throat. Something needs to be done!

Some kind of pin sticks out in my chest, piercing me through and nailing me to the ground. With such wounds do not survive. I can feel the blood bubbling, the salty goo rushing out through my nose and mouth. With my hand, I try to find at least something more or less weighty to launch into that treacherous bitch, already ready for her final blow. Unfortunately, nothing but horse feces can be grabbed by a weakened limb. Torn apart by pain and disgust, gritting my teeth, with the last of my strength, I threw a hastily crumpled ball of horse shit.

Lucky, the throw is right on target - right in the face of the attacker! She grimaces disgustingly and steps back, trying to clear her eyes and mouth from the crap that clogged them. Belatedly noticing the retreating woman behind him, Sigrid in a hurry, backhand delivers a quick blow, wanting to cut off the head of the insidious bitch with one movement. Alas, the short one-and-a-half only casually touched the hand of the raider who was covering her face. Crimson blood splattered in all directions. Like a pendulum of living flesh, the incompletely torn off brush hung on the skin under the heart-rending cries of the wounded.

This picture causes indescribable delight in my heart. The cry of the enemy, fear and agony, as well as a sense of greatness on the face of my Sigrid, who, having thrown "not finished off", with fury drives her first opponent into the dirt - this was an amazing spectacle, for which the "past" I would not be stingy to give and own life.

"When could such a "finished" person have a lover?" It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Blood bubbled from his mouth and pierced chest. The body is dumb. And there was definitely a pile of horses under me. No sterility, judging by the landscapes and outfits, in the Middle Ages. Which means I'm 100% dead. I don't know how I ended up here, but...its a good thing met someone whom when i see her my heart melts a little bit.

...How I would like to stay in this world a little longer. See more battles, other people's not suffering and no blood. Thoughts about the latter force the cold that has rolled over the body to recede. If I close my eyes again, then this will be my next end.

– What are you waiting for, Ilva?! - A rough female voice came with a frightened cry, - Help me!

Taking advantage of the fact that the older sister was distracted by me - a wounded brother, the robbers, taking their friend and tucking their tails, immediately screwed up.

"It's a pity, such people need to be finished off ..." - the sister made a mistake. She shouldn't have run to me, the living dead. She had to finish what she started!

Sigrid's face hanging over me like a painted painting by an unknown artist. In eyes as blue as the sky, I see horror and fear. A lot of scars, a broken eyebrow and lip, a hematoma on the forehead, from which, soon, there will definitely be a bump. Poor fellow. How much pain did she endure getting each of those old dried marks?! I had never seen such a militant female face before, but everything about it was beautiful and sexy!

Already feeling death, with shaking fingers, stained with blood, I wanted to brush away from those eyes an inappropriate, as it seemed, tear. "I understand, Sigrid... I'm sorry... But you're crying about something completely different... Your only little brother is already dead, and I'll recover soon after him."

Having jerked out a metal pin from my chest, the narrow-minded youngest literally accelerated the process of my necrosis.

"Barbarians" - I thought at the moment when the eldest, raising my head, began to pour some kind of disgusting potion into my mouth, and ... My chest burned inside my lungs, and then a flame blazed in my stomach. Twisting bones, tightening damaged skin and restoring organs, it literally brought me back to life. The real magic! It can not be! Am I in a fantasy world?!

There were already tears in my eyes. And my heart, promising to burst out of my chest, beat in admiration - there could not have been a better outcome! I'm alive. A young body fell into my hands. My new world is full of violence and blood. And this means that I can, without restraint, improve the skills acquired in the past. I can become a real perfect assassin! lover, maniacs, corrupt officials and simply lost sadists. I'm sure there are plenty of them. And that means I can finally realize myself one hundred and one percent!

"Hush, Glaud. Hush, honey. It's all over already," Sigrid whispered, pressing me to her chest, "Please don't cry, my little hero. They won't touch you again! the older sister kept saying, wiping away the tears of my joy.

"I believe, sister, because only a few days will pass, and they really won't touch anyone else."

Now, in Sigrid's eyes, I was a young man of eighteen years of joy. My name was Gloud. The surname, like that of any other foundling of these parts, is Wolf. Weak character, quiet and shy, with a poorly developed body and weak magical potential. The boy is not a gift. But with a little work, I think I will be able to return this body to its former shape. It's a pity for the boy - the past owner of this vessel. Indeed, in fact, it was precisely such that I never touched and even tried to protect. A victim of cruel routine and harsh reality - that's how he was. The boy did not stand out in life, and, as a rule, was the object of universal ridicule and censure. But, despite this, he found the strength in himself, in the last seconds of his worthless life, to protect his older and beloved sister from the spell that broke through and, in fact, interrupted his life. As for me, this is a fitting ending! In memory of his sacrifice, and in gratitude for the gift given to me, I am a butcher with ten years of experience, so be it, I will take on the responsibility of caring for his family, which, by the way, I never had.

My icy hands touched my sister's protective seals. Now I was to play the role of a frightened rabbit that almost became food for wolves. The memories I received were too crumpled. I am sure that gradually it will be possible to put them and myself in order. In the meantime, I'll have to try to come to terms with the way they treat me:

"Se-sister i'm fine..." I said, looking into her eyes, adding an unnatural hoarseness to my voice, finally trying to get up from the stinking heap.The jaw of the warrior tightened, so much so that it seemed to me that it was about to jump out of the joints. That Glaud had never spoken to her like that. And this oversight of mine had too strong an effect. A sudden change in behavior was useless. Who knows how the aboriginal barbarians, clad in armor, will react to the "fall" into their world, who, moreover, has taken possession of the body of their relative? I didn't want to be burned at the stake...

"Ilva, you stupid sheep. Why the hell did you drag the boy behind you?! the eldest barked, lifting me up in her arms like a weightless princess. The feeling, let's say, is nasty when a girl holds you in her arms. But, there's nothing to be done, I'm not some kind of hero, but, just an actor trying to find love.