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Guests would arrive at the estate near Erfurt by invitation. Yes, there was a time when the owner kept the gates open for all: friends, acquaintances, complete strangers, and often eccentric visitors. But life can be harsh—sometimes too much so. Eventually, the time came when guests could only come by invitation or, if particularly selected, if the guards recognized their scent and left them alone.
Over the years, Gaius Corsican had tried his hand at numerous professions. He managed to restore a printing press and published books—not only monastic ones but also knightly romances, scary tales about various monsters, and even a small encyclopedia of the great Leonardo da Vinci. Later, he ran a boutique selling fashionable clothing and practical footwear for travelers. For three years, he captained a caravel to the African coast, catching several bands of pirates along the way based on wanted lists. In short, whatever Gaius undertook, he excelled at it—with a certain effortless flair, though it was underpinned by meticulous study, hard work, and a strong sense of integrity towards clients.
However, there was one problem for this Corsican native. His parents were simple peasants who couldn’t protect him from the powerful. So, when his ventures started bringing in bags of gold, noblemen backed by corrupt officials would appear to seize his ideas and property. But without the brains, diligence, and dedication he put into his work, those enterprises—whether a printing house or any other “tasty pie”—would collapse within two years. And while initially, the phrase “that dark-haired fool is to blame” was used, disgruntled customers eventually began throwing punches. Gaius, however, never wanted to return to the wreckage—nor did he see much point in it. By then, he was already occupied with something new, living his next idea.
Around the age of fifty, Gaius grew tired of the endless harassment and moved his large family to the northern lands of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. Fortunately, these lands had been cleared of much of the riffraff; no large monsters had been sighted for about a decade, and night patrols were only maintained in villages lacking tall fences. In cities, regular guards and tower watchmen sufficed. To keep the fields from lying fallow, the king issued an edict on tax breaks and the sale of unclaimed property for a pittance.
After wandering around the area, Gaius stopped by the Plague Sisters and asked for their help in inspecting an abandoned farmstead. It turned out that the ruins housed some small, toothy creatures, which they quickly buried, set up protective amulets that the new owner had brought, and helped build a low fence. Now, in any weather, the Sisters or the ladies from the Brotherhood could stay overnight with a family that remembered its friends.
A year ago, the Plague Midwife received an unusual request: to find fighting dog puppies from Vechta. Before the catastrophe, local breeders actively raised Fechtbergs and sold them to livestock owners or wealthy merchants. These huge dogs could take down a wolf single-handedly, feared no armed men, and defended their masters to the last drop of blood. But when the Plague came and Darkness descended upon Europe, it was a massive pack of wild Fechtbergs that destroyed Bremen. The city would later be reclaimed, and most of the dogs hunted down. In people’s memories, these massive dogs would forever remain as monsters from wild lands.
Agness completed the task. She had just gone on a small raid along the edges of the abandoned fields and forests, where various monstrous creatures roamed. She checked a few ‘juicy’ spots from tips, filled her purse, and quite literally stumbled upon four puppies, circled by scavengers. The older dogs in the pack had perished defending their offspring. So, she unleashed her Dobermans, took out a few scavengers with her musket, and finished off the wounded ones who didn’t manage to escape. She gave the puppies water and brought them to Gaius. In fact, she liked it so much that she eventually gifted the well-maintained estate owner twelve more young dogs, two strange crossbreeds, and a ‘dodik’—a giant porcupine with a massive mouth and armored head. She felt sorry for him—he’d been lying in a ditch, close to death with a torn-up belly. Since it was on her way, the Midwife dragged the poor creature in the trunk, cursing at the metal pierced by quills. She thought Gaius would stuff it and feed the meat to the dogs. But no—he nursed it back to health, spoon-feeding it. Now, Dodo happily roams the pasture, guarding the many cows from any trouble. He gets upset if the dogs catch some creepy creature before he can join the fun with his short legs.
Incidentally, thanks to the animals roaming freely, the large family can ignore any uninvited visitors. Have you seen the stakes? You shouldn’t go past them; there’s a sign posted. Our road doesn’t go through, either. So, you reach the stone circle, ring the bell, and wait. If someone’s free, they’ll come to see who the wind has brought.
Friends don’t linger on the outskirts—they come straight to the house. But you must understand the difference between true friends, for whom the doors are always open, and the various tax collectors, drifters, foolish knights with lackeys, and other ragged sorts. Some of these folks aren’t even identifiable afterward. What remains in the bushes beside the road are bits of armor, a piece of a leg, and a horse’s tail. Who they were or why they came remains a mystery.
In Erfurt, the Corsican family was respected, and any complaints about them were immediately thrown into the trash. Gaius donated generously to the local temple, bringing sacks of dark creatures’ entrails and herbs for magical potions. He cleared the northern approaches to the city so effectively that no creature even dared to venture there—they’d be devoured instantly. He also provided the city guard with three grown puppies, and now, at night, not only did creatures avoid the streets, but so did all manner of rogues. In short, Gaius felt he had found true happiness, settled down in one place, made new friends, and enjoyed life.
***
“You've really bulked up!” Agness exclaimed, slowing down beside the massive dog standing at the roadside. Sure, you could pass by, who would argue? But he’d bark, and within a hundred steps, you'd run into the pack, eager to block the road. They knew this game, having encountered it before. They’d even played with the wheels of the car, those rascals, dismantling the armored vehicle nearly piece by piece. Later, the owner apologized, kept them fed and watered during the entire repair. The sneaky dogs put on innocent faces, like, ‘What? Us? We did nothing; it took itself apart.’ So Agness gave the grinning snout a scratch, pulled him close, and kissed him on the nose. Such a sweetheart. And they don’t bother the Dobermans, treating them as puppies. They're small, can’t even play with them properly. Give them a nudge, and they tumble away, rolling over.
On the porch, Janeshka was already waiting—a blonde eight-year-old angel. One look and you’d know—she wasn't a biological daughter. The whole family was dark-haired, as black as raven feathers. Only Gaius had a touch of gray in his beard and temples. But if you foolishly called her “a stray,” they wouldn’t hurt you; they’d just throw you out past the gate, and it would be best to forget the way back. They’d found the little girl on their way north. There was no question of an orphanage. Mother Magdalene had bathed the frightened girl, treated her sores with ointment, found a dress from the older daughters in their bags, and said:
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“Well, I have one more daughter in my old age. Thank the Lord for blessing us with this joy in our home.”
Agness parked her car under the canopy. They’d built it on the side specifically to keep carts and other vehicles dry in the rain. Stepping out, the Midwife gestured for the black dogs to run off and play with their friends, then opened the trunk and called over the little angel.
“Janeshka, look what I brought. This box is for you. It’s heavy, so you’ll need to ask your brothers for help; you probably can’t carry it alone. These bags are for your father, and that barrel over there is for your mother… You know what, call for some help; we won’t manage all this on our own.”
“Got it, I’ll be quick! Just don’t give my stuff to the sisters! They’ll start begging for it! I want to open it myself!” The little imp spun around on the porch and dashed into the house.
“The sisters will be too busy to bother,” Agness chuckled, glancing at the trunk, packed to the brim. This time, the older girls would get silk ribbons, dress fabrics, and other useful things. As they say, if you have a map of rich stores in abandoned lands and a bit of luck, you can always bring home good loot. Before the Plague, wizards placed protections against rot, dust, wood-boring beetles, and other nasties, and that service is becoming popular again now. Candles are expensive, so they’re not burned needlessly in the evenings. What else to do? Population is recovering at a good pace. If fortune favors, within thirty years, people will finish off the remaining dark pests and reclaim the empty lands.
The bags and boxes were moved in an instant. In one corner of the large room, the girls excitedly unpacked ribbons, admired rolls of fabric, and sifted fine pearls from hand to hand. It looked like the future brides in town would win young men’s hearts at the autumn fair.
In the middle of the table, Janeshka’s gift was placed. They opened the box, the side walls unfolded, and now the girl was intently dressing a large porcelain-headed doll. The set included about fifteen different dresses, jars of powder, little combs—everything a little princess would need. There was even a crown. Where the Plague Midwife had found such a marvel was best left unasked. Mother Church and Father Royal Justice did not look kindly upon the expropriation of other people's regal treasures. And so what if the former owners had been eaten? There would always be those eager to lay claim to such serious assets. So, it was "found somewhere by accident," and exactly where or how—well, she just couldn’t remember.
***
Agnessa got to the main issue after a bath, a hearty dinner, and two mugs of pitch-black beer with a slight bitterness.
“Gaius, a good acquaintance of mine has a bit of a problem.”
“A monk, maybe?”
“No, they don’t come to me with requests; they go straight to the abbot. You have to understand—he’s an important figure, a serious man. And I’m only good for running around the area and poking dead things with metal... Sir Bruno Donner, one of the discretes. Not long ago, we fought to contain a breach there with all our forces. We had a good time of it. Half his retinue was eaten, but he managed to hold the castle. They kept the monsters from spreading around the area… Anyway. We took down the big ones, but there are still a lot of smaller creatures left in the ravines. Bruno’s asking if he could take a puppy or two from you. The dogs you raise would really help the patrols… And don’t worry about payment; they managed to sell some organs well, so the knight’s good on funds.”
“Sir Donner? I’ve heard of him, yes…” The master of the large house stared thoughtfully at his nearly empty mug, considering whether to sample another liter of beer or if his legs wouldn’t hold him. “Let him come, and we’ll discuss it. I could sell him three dogs, a Reichsthaler each. Any cheaper, I’m afraid, won’t do.”
“Cheaper? You’re joking, old man! People are ready to pay a hundred per head for your dogs! I heard the aldermen complaining themselves that they can’t make a deal with you!”
“Don’t confuse things,” Gaius wagged a finger sternly. “There’s a difference between Sir Bruno, a defender of the border and a protector of the common folk under his care, and those fancy-dressed lords who’ve never even seen a monster... So let him come. Just make sure you bring him the first time so I can introduce him to the guards.”
“Got it… We’ll be here by noon tomorrow then. He’s in your area on business with his squires, staying in Erfurt tonight.”
Setting aside his empty mug, the Corsican smirked.
“You’re clever.”
“Practical,” Agnessa corrected, adding, “Bruno’s bringing some gifts, too. But that’s for you two to handle…”
The guests arrived at noon. The Plague Midwife arrived in her rumbling armored truck, and a knight’s retinue of twenty men-at-arms led by Sir Bruno. As the iron-clad giant slowed near the porch, three massive dogs immediately positioned themselves beside him, each the size of a small horse but without the fluffy tail.
Removing his helmet, Bruno dismounted, carefully patting the dog standing nearby, and asked the master of the house:
“What kind of magic makes a Fechtoberg grow this big?”
“You’d have to ask my wife. She mixes their porridge with meat… I just make sure they’re well-fed.”
“Yes, I see... Well, I have no shortage of provisions... Hey, be careful with that wagon; they might nip you if you get too close! ... Master Gaius, let me show you the gift I brought for you.”
The puppies sniffed curiously at the occasionally twitching sack covering the contents of the wide wagon. When the fabric was removed, Gaius and his family saw two rows of woven cages filled with ten sharp-toothed creatures. Gloomy lizards with broad wings. The "gifts" whistled and hissed, stretching their long necks and baring teeth at the people.
“Wyverns?!”
“Yes, Master Gaius. Missed them nesting in one of the castle towers just under the roof. They wintered there, and now I need to find them a home. The adults are already settled and treat the castle’s residents as their own. Agnessa constantly has to scold them.”
“And who gave them permission to snatch my chicken leg right out of my hand? I didn’t even get a bite before one of those critters swooped down from the rafters and snatched it! ... Well, I made sure they coughed it up later back at their nest… They respect me now.”
The knight laughed.
“Of course they respect you! You might not fly, but you chased them all over the place; scales were flying everywhere! Later, they even helped you hunt boars in the outer fields… So I still have a few at home. But I’d be happy to give you this young bunch. I fear the adults will eat them if they get in the way.”
Sizing up the sharp-toothed creatures, Gaius asked:
“Then why do you need dogs? Wyverns can spot any threat approaching the castle from the air!”
“Yes, during the day. But at night, they don’t like to leave the nest. The cleverest ones either sleep under the tables in the great hall or slip into the kitchen, curling up near the hearth. I need to strengthen my patrols to keep an eye on the area in any weather.”
“Understood... Then let’s trade. Three year-old pups for these critters.”
Boots clattered on the steps as a blonde little girl climbed into the wagon.
“Oh, they’re so cute!”
Before anyone could say a word or warn her, Yanechka had already opened a cage door and climbed inside.
“And who’s this green one? And whose big wings are these? Hey, no pinching… Want a treat? This is a crust of bread with salt… Should I pet you? … And where are you sticking your head—do you want some too?”
Gaius sighed and shrugged.
“She’s got a talent, my daughter. She can make friends with any creature. So we’ll take them. All ten. She won’t let go of a single one until she’s had her fill of play.”
A year later, each wyvern’s head had grown to the size of an oversized merchant’s chest, and Yanechka was outfitted with a harness for flights. After re-roofing the house for the third time, the Corsican finally gave everyone who hadn’t understood the first time a stern lesson with a switch: no perching on the house! He had even built a special roost made of stripped logs beside the garden beds—*there* was the place for them to play!
Meanwhile, Magdalena couldn’t have been happier with the flying and running creatures around. After all, mothers are always pleased when their little ones eat well.
***
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