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Finally, his day had come. Loztu had spent exactly one month in the Dyke and his tour had finished. He ate a good breakfast, in order to be able to stand the journey to Albe, in Govria. He was resting between two crenels and he gazed the land that he would travel through in a short time. It was a lonesome meadow, covered by tall grass with a very green colour in that time of the year, the first days of May. In that moment, when it was beginning to get light, the grass hardly could be seen because the entire area was covered by the fog. The fog started to dissipate slowly as the sunshine became more intense.

He told to himself, while he waited during more time than planned, that he was waiting for the vanishing of the fog in order to not getting confused during his walk. However, Loztu knew that when he were at the other side of the Dyke, he would start an unknown and unsure path, and his anxiety forced him to delay as much as possible his departure. Finally, the fog cleared, so he had to go to the barracks in order to pick up his luggage.

After picking up his belongings, several comrades who he knew during past tours approached him for telling goodbye, shake his hand and wishing him good luck in his adventure. Uttuk, Easgu and Munture, his closest comrades, accompanied him to the gate of the Dyke and they farewelled him there. When the soldiers of the garrison activated the mechanisms and the huge gate started to open slowly, Loztu was already alone. His heart beat faster and he felt, for a moment, that he was not able to go out, but it had no sense to make the soldiers guarding the gate wait, so he, finally, crossed the gate.

He started to walk purposefully while he heard how the gate was closed behind him. When the sound of the mechanisms stopped, he turned back for the last time and he saw that, from the battlement of the Dyke, three soldiers farewelled him moving their arms. Loztu said goodbye in the same way and he went away the gate.

During the first part of the travel, while the fog dissipated completely and he could see well the huge meadow that he crossed, Loztu regretted because he could not stay in Hakol a little time more. The Republic was recruiting an army for attacking the kawtsut and he could not enroll. From the last war against govrians, his country lacked the strength for controlling their population, so kawtsut were so numerous that they dared to hounding the armies that went to the Dyke for relieving the garrisons, as it happened to Loztu's one. Loztu felt that he was betraying the Republic, but he really could not delay more time his departure.

After an hour, he passed close to the blackish remainders of a hakol farm, and that image made him remember why he started that adventure. His father served in the Dyke during the Seona War, although, fortunately, on the top of the Dyke. That war happened about thirty years ago when, due to a series of poor harvests, the Republic planned to farm the lands under its rule at the other side of the Dyke, where no hakols lived for fear of the govrians. A lot of families were given lands for farming, and they built hamlets and isolated farms. In the first moments, govrian scouts only watched them from afar.

After, the scouts started to gather in groups and threatened the farmers, who did not want to abandon their own country. As the threats did not work, they started to burn the isolated farms and send the families back to the Dyke. Govrians ignored the diplomatic protests from Hakol, so the government recruited a four hundred men army, in anticipation to a deterioration of the situation. And the things became worse. The govrians understood that burning farms did not work, so they captured dozens of farmers and they held them prisoners several weeks. When they were liberated, they had been ordered to say that it was the last warning: if farmers did not return to the hakol side of the Dyke, they will die. Hakol authorities' error was not believing them.

When decimated families, children and women who had lost their husbands and brothers, started to return to the Dyke, the Republic deployed the army, no longer fearing of provoking the govrians. The army was divided in four columns that chased and rejected govrian looting parties. In the first moments the hakols were successful, but one of the four columns was surprised and defeated by a govrian battalion. That defeat proved that would be almost impossible defending the area splitting the hakol army. The only option was gathering the army and marching towards Seona, the city from where all the raids came. The goal was immobilizing the govrians threatening them with a siege. Republican tacticians hoped that Seona authorities would not attack the hakol army without a war declaration from the King. However, the fourth govrian legion marched towards them and the Battle of Seona took place.

He remembered the depiction that his father done, that was based in the survivors' tales. The govrians, taking advantage of the longer range of their longbows, hounded the hakol army and killed the most of its crossbowmen. Govrian light cavalry tried a frontal charge, but the hakol army resisted and they were rejected. Despite of govrian horses are gigantic, they never charge against a closed infantry formation whose soldiers resist: infantry is only annihilated if the soldiers get scared and flee. But it is needed a lot of courage and discipline.

However the hakol soldiers' courage was useless. Govrians weakened the hakol formation with their archers and used the cavalry for hounding them. Instead of charging the formation hold on, galloped circling it and they killed a few hakols lanced them from afar. The hakol army became immobilized. When some soldiers took the bait and tried to attack the govrians, they were massacred. The army resisted for a long time, although the soldiers knew that they were lost. When govrian infantry came towards them, hakol lines broke and the army scattered in disorder. Enemy cavalry killed them with no restrictions, so only the third part of the army could reach safety behind the Dyke.

His father formed in a battalion that crossed the Dyke for distracting the govrians and giving the remainders of the defeated army an opportunity to reach the Dyke. Loztu did not forget the apprehension that his father showed when talking about govrian cavalry. Fortunately, the enemy refused charging against a disciplined hakol unit and left the battlefield without attacking them. Anyway, the govrian fourth legion had already achieved their goal. That battle weakened the Republic and showed that the hakol army could not defeat the govrians in an open field.

By that, when he saw in the distance a horseman's tiny figure, Loztu felt anxiety. And his heart beat faster when he saw that the horseman, probably a govrian scout, came towards him galloping. Hiding or escaping was useless. Loztu followed the law and carried a letter of safe-conduct that granted him permission for travelling through Govria, but he feared of being killed by the horseman only for fun. He hoped to arrive to Albe without bumping into a scout, but it seemed that they patrolled eagerly the border.

When the horseman was near, Loztu stopped and faced him. He was about to starting to tremble and felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest, but he stood pretending to be calmed, despite that he was looking at the figure of a huge horse ridden by a huge man who carried a sheathed sword bigger than him and ignoring that the horse galloped towards him as if it tried to mowed down him. He had to make a big effort for not leaving the rucksack in the floor and taking his shield and his axe, only for feeling safer, but it was not a good idea to show any kind of hostility to a foe like that.

As Loztu supposed, the horseman stopped the horse and let it to walk slowly surrounding Loztu. The govrian was a hefty, long-haired, blond man, and he gazed Loztu showing suspicion in his blue eyes. He had a couple of scars in his face that gave him a threatening look. Suddenly, the horseman said:

"What are you doing in Govria, hakol?"

They were still in hakol territory, but he was not going to start an argument about that. Although Loztu learnt during his childhood a bit of govrian language, as all the hakol males did and, he passed several years studying and practising the language with one of the few traders from Koltu who visited Albe regularly, he had feared of not being capable of understand a native govrian speaker, but fortunately, he could. Loztu formed a sentence in govrian and answered:

"I am travelling to Albe for personal reasons, sir. I carry a letter of safe-conduct."

"An what?"

He left the crossbow in the floor very slowly, took off the rucksack, opened his travel cloak and took a document while he told:

"A document that grants permission to me for travelling through Govria."

The govrian surprised him:

"Ah! A safe-conduct."

That was what Loztu had told. He stretched out his arm for giving the document to the horseman, but his horse was so big that he would have to approach him and the horseman would have to lean towards him. However, the govrian drew slowly, put the sword near to him, without pointing at him, and told:

"Put the letter here."

Loztu obeyed with some qualms, however, the govrian simply raised the sword, studied the document while he casted him some suspicious and quick looks. Finally, he put again the letter in the sword, lowered it up to Loztu's height and told:

"Very well, Lostu, you can continue your travel, but don't make trouble or we'll bring back kicking to the Dyke."

The horseman sheathed his sword and moved away. He soothed because he could hold a conversation in govrian language, although he did not like that the govrian could not pronounce properly his name.

Albe was near the Dyke, half day away from it. He stopped for drinking and resting and continued walking at a good rate. When the mountains at his left covered it no longer, he had a nice sight of the coast and the meadow where Albe was. Although it was still afar, he thought that it was a huge cite circled completely by walls. The harbour could be seen very well from his position, and he could see several three-masted ships anchored. He knew that they were galleons because he passed a long time learning facts about govrian culture before leaving from Hakol. When he had enough money, he would sail up to the mainland in a ship like one of those, and in the mainland his true quest would begin.

He approached Albe in a calm rate, because he was sure about arriving to the city a couple of hours after noon. When he was very near to the city, he took a road where a few wagons and some pedestrians went over. When a govrian male overtook him and looked at him with an unfriendly grimace, he was fully conscious of govrian's huge size and he could not avoid to feel intimidated.

The road led towards a gate in the walls, a gate almost as big as the one in Bukret's Dyke. The gate was between two towers with straight flanks and rounded walls in the front, in such a way that formed a corridor. It was a so wide corridor that, although a lot of people entered and went out the city, there was a lot of free space. There were four guards who watched the passers-by. Loztu stopped before arriving to the gate and gazed it for a while, admiring the strength of the walls and the height of the fortification. Laying siege to that town would be a very difficult task.

Finally, he went towards the city and reached the gate. He could not reach even the half part of the corridor. One of the guards, who seemed to be even taller than the others, stopped in front of him, ordered him to stop and told:

"Where do you go?"

The question was stupid, but Loztu not even expressed a light insinuation.

"I go to Albe, sir. I carry a letter of safe-conduct."

"I don't know what the hell that is, and I know that you go to Albe, I'm not stupid. Don't you know that you can't enter armed?"

That became him distressed: nobody warned him about that rule.

"But... sir... I can't throw away my arms, they are an heirloom."

"For me, as if they are made in gold: you won't enter with that. And nobody is asking you to throw them away."

He pointed at a door in the side of the tower situated in the right according to Loztu. The door had a sign above, but Loztu could not read anything written in Govrian.

"I am really sorry, sir, but I do not understand."

The govrian guard snorted in a rude way and told:

"Enter that door, give all your arms and you'll be given a paper with your name and a number. When you want to leave Albe, enter again, give the paper and you'll be returned your arms. Did you understand this time or will I have to repeat it?"

That man was annoying, but Loztu acted like everybody would expect from a hakol and he ignored his lack of politeness.

"I understand, sir. Thank you very much."

The guard let him pass and Loztu went into the room that they had been told. He was in the most peculiar hall that he had never seen. Govrian furniture and decoration were very different to hakol ones. The hall was very much coloured that its equivalent in Hakol and the walls were decorated with tiles that had geometric patterns. There were six armoured guards who impressed Loztu due to their height and armament. In front of him, there was a wall with an aperture of about four meters. There was a big counter, covered or made in wood, a man that seemed distracted and a high number or cupboards behind it.

He had decided not let himself be impressed by the govrians, so he purposefully approached the counter and realised that his upper surface was above his head. He thought that should be ridiculous trying to climb up, so he raised his right hand and moved it above the counter as he told:

"Please, sir, excuse me."

After a few moments, the govrian put his head out the counter and told surprised:

"Oh, good man. Please, come this way."

Loztu walked towards the place that the man had told and he stopped when he saw a door opening in part of the counter next to the wall. The upper part of the counter on the door could be also opened, so Loztu could looked at the public servant, who was a bit bent towards him. The man told:

"Please, give me your arms."

Loztu obeyed although he did not like to get rid of the axe. When he gave all his arms, he remembered that govrian public institutions were very corrupt. By this, when the public servant left the arms on the counter for examining them, he took a  handful of coins and told him:

"These arms are an heirloom. Would this amount ensure that you will take good care of them?"

He showed him discreetly a few coins. Their value was two marks and six squils and he had to revise them for ensuring that he was offering a proper amount. Govrian monetary system was more complex that the one from Hakol and Loztu still did not know if an amount was high or not. An additional difficulty was that in Hakol there were only two types of coins: the pwk that was divided in a hundred selyt, but in Govria there existed three types: the dalie, divided in six marks, and each mark was divided in twelve squils. The govrian man held him in contempt and answered:

"You must also give me the breastplate. And the fee for what you have mentioned is written in that sign."

He pointed at a parchment pinned in a wall. In the Republican institutions there were no signs because it was supposed that all the information which somebody would need must be explained by the public servants. He had not expected that the inability for reading govrian language could become a problem.

"Excuse me, sir, but I can't read govrian writing."

"The official fee is four marks. Please, I need the breastplate."

Loztu took off the breastplate and gave it to him together with the money that he asked. The govrian public servant took a couple of parchments, one big and other small, from a drawer set into the counter and told:

"What is your name?"

"Loztu, sir."

He wrote down the name and told:

"Your surname?"

"Trokolgu."

The man looked up a big book, wrote something in both parchments and, finally, put the big parchment near Loztu. He gave him a feather and an inkwell and told:

"Please, sign at the right bottom part of this document. If you cannot write, draw a cross or a circle."

"I can write, sir, but in my own language, not in govrian one."

"That will be perfect."

He had to sign on the floor, because there was no other surface appropriate to his height. After that, the man gave him the small parchment and told him that he could go out if he wished. While he went out the hall, he looked at the parchment, which was filled with unintelligible signs. There were four short lines that, he suppossed, represented the arms that he left in deposit. He kept the parchment and, this time, nobody blocked his way to Albe.
Chapter V: At the other side of the Dyke
And, finally, Loztu's adventure starts. The first part of the travel is short and takes place in an area apparently calm. I can tell in advance that he will face govrians for the first time.

I edit this because I forgot something. Govrian monetary system is inspired in the danish one until 18th-19th century. In the Danish monetary system, 1 rigsdaler had the same value that 6 marks. Each mark was divided in 16 skilling. In Govria, the main monetary unit is the dalie (made in gold) divided in 6 marks (made in silver) and each mark is divided in 12 squils. I want to strengthen the similarities with a nordic culture of Govria with this, although being a fantasy kingdom, govrian culture will include elements from other countries.

From the beginning to the moment in which Loztu see some ruins, the song that should sound can be the "Canto de Andar" (Song for walking) by Luar na Lubre, a nice medieval style song in which you can hear harps, accordions, flutes... This video with that song includes some nice filmations done in Cabo Ortigal, in Galicia (Spain): www.youtube.com/watch?v=63OeB5… The lyrics, translated into English freely:

It begins to get light slowly in the lands of the twilight
the fog vanishes with the rays of the sun
My love, my love, we go facing the biggest sea
my beloved (1), my darling, we go through the lands of the other side
caress the silence and hear the heart
that a lot of your dreams beat with their sound
My love, my love, we go facing the biggest sea
my beloved, my darling, we go through the lands of the other side

It's time for walking and for not forgetting
that the future that has to come is what you must do
My love, my love, we go facing the biggest sea
my beloved, my darling, we go through the lands of the other side
and the quiet sun lays down the sea
becoming us small with so much vastness
My love, my love, we go facing the biggest sea
my beloved, my darling, we go through the lands of the other side.

(1) "Miña amada" in the galician original, that means that "my beloved" is addressed to a woman.

La versión en español está aquí: imageshr.deviantart.com/art/Ca…
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Al fin había llegado el día. Loztu llevaba un mes exacto en el Muro y su periodo de servicio había terminado. Había desayunado bien, en previsión del viaje que tenía por delante antes de llegar a Albe, en Govria. Estaba descansando entre dos almenas del Muro y perdía la vista en las tierras que iba a recorrer dentro de muy poco. Era una pradera solitaria, con la hierba alta y muy verde en aquella época del año, principios de mayo. En aquel momento, en que empezaba a amanecer, apenas se veía porque toda la zona estaba cubierta con una niebla que se iba disipando despacio a medida que la luz del sol cobraba fuerza.

Se decía a sí mismo, mientras esperó más de lo previsto, que aguardaba a que la niebla se disipara para no errar el rumbo. Sin embargo, Loztu sabía que, una vez al otro lado del Muro, iniciaba un camino incierto y desconocido, y su inquietud le llevaba a retrasar al máximo ese momento. Al fin, la niebla se disipó lo suficiente para obligarle a ir al barracón a por sus cosas.

Tras haber recogido sus enseres, varios compañeros a los que conocía de otros periodos de servicio se acercaron para despedirse de él, estrecharle la mano y desearle mucha suerte. Uttuk, Easgu y Munture, que eran los más allegados, le acompañaron a la puerta del Muro y le despidieron allí. Cuando la guarnición accionó los mecanismos y la inmensa puerta se abrió lentamente, le habían dejado solo. Se le aceleró el pulso y se sintió por un instante sin fuerzas para salir, pero no era lógico hacer esperar a los soldados de la puerta, así que la cruzó.

Comenzó a caminar con paso decidido mientras oía cómo, a sus espaldas, el portón volvía a cerrarse. Cuando supo que estaba cerrado, miró atrás una última vez y vio que desde las almenas, tres soldados le despedían moviendo los brazos. Respondió de igual forma y se alejó de la puerta.

Durante el primer trecho, mientras la niebla terminaba de disiparse y podía contemplar la gran llanura que atravesaba, iba pensando en que lamentaba no poderse quedar un tiempo más y participar en el ejército que la República estaba reclutando para atacar a los kawtsut. Desde el último conflicto con los govrianos, su país no había tenido la fuerza suficiente como para controlar su población y, por ello, se habían vuelto tan numerosos que se atrevían a acosar a las columnas que iban a relevar a las guarniciones del muro, como le sucedió a la suya. Sentía como si traicionara a la República, pero era consciente de que no podía retrasar más su partida.

Tras una hora de marcha, pasó junto a los restos negruzcos de una granja hakol y esa visión le recordó por qué había emprendido aquella aventura. Su padre sirvió en el Muro durante lo que se llamó la Guerra de Seona, aunque, por suerte, encima de la muralla. Aquello había sucedido hacía unos treinta años cuando, ante una serie de malas cosechas, la República planeó cultivar las tierras bajo su soberanía al otro lado del Muro, vacías por temor a los govrianos. Se concedieron tierras a numerosas familias que levantaron aldeas y granjas aisladas. Al principio, los exploradores govrianos se limitaron a observarlas de lejos.

Después, empezaron a reunirse en grupos y a amenazar a los granjeros, que se negaron a irse de su propio país. De las amenazas, pasaron a quemar las granjas aisladas y, al principio, se contentaban con enviar a las familias de vuelta al Muro. Las protestas diplomáticas de la República fueron desoídas, de manera que el gobierno reclutó un ejército de cuatrocientos hombres en previsión de que la situación empeorase. Y lo hizo. Los govrianos, al ver que la quema de granjas no funcionaba, capturaron a decenas de agricultores y los retuvieron durante semanas. Cuando los liberaron, les habían ordenado decir que era la última advertencia: si los granjeros no volvían al otro lado del Muro, empezarían a morir. El fallo de los mandos de la República fue no creérselo.

Cuando empezaron a llegar al Muro familias diezmadas, mujeres y niños que habían perdido a maridos y hermanos, la República desplegó al ejército, sin importarle ya provocar a los govrianos. El ejército se dividió en cuatro columnas que persiguieron y rechazaron a las partidas de saqueadores govrianas. Al principio todo fue bien, hasta que una de las cuatro columnas fue sorprendida y derrotada por un batallón govriano. Aquello demostró que iba a ser muy difícil defender la zona. Sólo se vio una alternativa: el ejército se unió y marchó hacia Seona, de donde partían todos los ataques, con la intención de inmovilizar al enemigo con la amenaza de un asalto. Los estrategas de la República confiaban en que los govrianos no presentarían batalla sin una declaración oficial de guerra. Sin embargo, la cuarta legión govriana avanzó hacia ellos y se produjo la Batalla de Seona.

Recordó la descripción que le hizo su padre, basada en los relatos de los supervivientes. Los govrianos, gracias al mayor alcance de sus arcos largos, acosaron al ejército hakol y acabaron con buena parte de sus ballesteros. La caballería ligera govriana probó una carga frontal, pero el ejército de la República no flaqueó y los rechazaron. A pesar de que los caballos govrianos son gigantescos, nunca cargan contra una unidad de infantería que se mantiene firme: sólo la aniquilan si los infantes se asustan y huyen. Pero se necesitan mucho valor y disciplina.

Sin embargo, el valor de los soldados de su pueblo fue inútil. Los govrianos debilitaron la formación con los arqueros y usaron la caballería para hostigarla. En vez de cargar directamente, galopaban en paralelo a sus líneas y mataban a unos pocos soldados alanceandolos antes de rebasar la formación hakol, que quedó inmovilizada. Cuando algunos soldados caían en la trampa y trataban de atacar a los govrianos, eran masacrados. El ejército aguantó largo tiempo, aunque la tropa ya era consciente de que estaban perdidos. Y cuando la infantería govriana avanzó, las líneas hakol se vinieron abajo y el ejército huyó en desbandada. La caballería enemiga los mató a placer: apenas la tercera parte del ejército logró ponerse a cubierto tras el Muro.

Su padre había formado parte de un batallón que salió del Muro con la esperanza de entretener a los govrianos y permitir a los restos del ejército vencido llegar al Muro. Loztu no olvidaba la aprensión con que hablaba de la caballería govriana. Por fortuna, los govrianos rehuyeron cargar contra una unidad hakol disciplinada y se retiraron sin luchar. En todo caso, la cuarta legión ya había logrado su objetivo. Aquella batalla debilitó a la República y demostró que el ejército hakol no podía vencer a los govrianos en campo abierto.

Por eso, cuando vio a lo lejos la figura diminuta de un jinete, Loztu se sintió muy intranquilo. Y se le aceleró el pulso al comprobar que aquel jinete, que sólo podría tratarse de un explorador, se le acercaba con rapidez. Esconderse o huir era inútil y aunque había seguido escrupulosamente la ley y portaba un salvoconducto que le daba derecho a recorrer Govria con libertad, temía que aquel jinete decidiera acabar con él sólo por diversión. Loztu había tenido la esperanza de llegar a Albe sin toparse con ningún explorador de la cuarta legión, pero era evidente que patrullaban la frontera con bastante empeño.

Cuando el jinete estuvo cerca, Loztu se detuvo y se encaró con él. Estaba a punto de echarse a temblar, y el corazón se le quería salir del pecho, pero aguantó con aparente tranquilidad la imagen de un caballo descomunal montado por un jinete enorme que llevaba envainada una espada más grande que Loztu y se le acercaba como si quisiera arrollarlo. Le costó mucho trabajo no desprenderse de la mochila, embrazar el escudo y sacar el hacha, sólo para sentirse seguro, pero no era prudente mostrar hostilidad ante un rival como aquel.

Como Loztu sospechaba, el jinete detuvo al caballo y lo hizo caminar muy despacio a su alrededor. El govriano era un hombre fornido, rubio y con el pelo largo, y le miraba fijamente con unos ojos azules llenos de desconfianza. Tenía un par de cicatrices en el rostro que le daban un aspecto terrible. De pronto, dijo:

—¿Qué haces en Govria, hakol?

Seguían en territorio hakol, pero no iba a discutírselo. Aunque Loztu había aprendido de niño un poco de govriano, como todos los varones hakol y, además, había pasado años estudiando y practicando la lengua con uno de los pocos comerciantes de Koltu que visitaban Albe regularmente, había temido ser incapaz de entender a un govriano nativo. Construyó en govriano una frase y respondió:

—Voy a Albe por motivos personales. Tengo un salvoconducto.

—¿Un qué?

Dejó la ballesta despacio en el suelo, se quitó la mochila, abrió la capa de viaje y extrajo un documento mientras decía:

—Un documento que me permite viajar por Govria.

El govriano le sorpendió:

—¡Ah! Un salvoconducto.

Eso era lo que Loztu había dicho. Se lo tendió pero aquel caballo era tan grande que tendría que acercarse y el govriano agacharse. Antes de conseguir hacerlo, el jinete desenvainó despacio, puso la espada cerca de él, sin apuntarle, y le dijo:

—Ponlo aquí.

Loztu obedeció con cierto reparo, aunque el govriano se limitó a alzar la espada, estudiar el documento mientras le lanzaba miradas desconfiadas y, finalmente, volver a dejarlo en el arma y ponérselo a su altura. Y dijo:

—Muy bien, Lostu, sigue tu camino, pero no causes problemas o te devolveremos a patadas al Muro.

Sin más, envainó y se alejó al galope. Le tranquilizó comprobar que era capaz de entenderse con los govrianos, aunque no le acabó de gustar que no supieran pronunciar bien su nombre.

Albe estaba muy cerca del Muro, a medio día de marcha. Se detuvo una vez, para beber un poco y descansar, y siguió avanzando a buen ritmo. Cuando las montañas que tenía a su izquierda dejaron de tapársela, tuvo una vista espléndida de la costa y la llanura en la que se alzaba Albe. Aun desde lejos, le pareció una ciudad enorme, rodeada por completo de murallas. Se divisaba muy bien el puerto, en el que había anclados varios barcos de tres mástiles. Sabía que se trataba de galeones porque se había preocupado mucho de averiguar todo lo posible acerca de la cultura de Govria antes de partir. Cuando reuniera el dinero suficiente, uno de aquellos barcos le llevaría al continente, donde iniciaría su auténtica búsqueda.

Se fue acercando a Albe a un ritmo tranquilo, seguro de llegar, como muy tarde, un par de horas después del medio día. Y sus previsiones fueron acertadas. Cuando estuvo muy cerca de la ciudad, se incorporó a un camino que recorrían unos pocos carros y algún caminante. En el momento en que un govriano le rebasó y le miró con una expresión poco amigable, tuvo plena consciencia de lo enormes que eran y no pudo evitar sentirse intimidado por su tamaño.

El camino llevaba a una puerta en la muralla, una casi tan grande como el portón del Muro de Bukret. La puerta estaba flanqueada por dos torres de paredes laterales rectas y curvadas por delante, de manera que formaban un pasillo. Era tan amplio que, aunque había cierto trasiego, quedaba mucho espacio libre. Había cuatro guardias apostados, vigilando a los transeuntes. Loztu se detuvo a cierta distancia de la puerta, y la contempló durante un tiempo, admirando la solidez de los muros y la altura de la fortificación. Habría sido una tarea árdua asaltar aquella ciudad.

Se decidió a avanzar y llegó a la puerta. No tuvo tiempo ni de llegar a la mitad del pasillo. Uno de los guardias, que parecía aún más alto que el resto, se plantó delante, le ordenó detenerse y le dijo:

—¿Adónde vas?

La pregunta era estúpida, pero Loztu se cuidó de ni siquiera insinuarlo.

—A Albe, señor. Llevo un salvoconducto.

—No sé qué demonios es eso, y ya sé que vas a Albe, no soy idiota. ¿No sabes que no puedes entrar armado?

Aquello le angustió: nadie se lo había advertido.

—Pero... señor... no puedo tirar mis armas, son un recuerdo familiar.

—Como si son de oro: con eso no entras. Y nadie te pide que las tires.

Señaló una puerta en el lateral de la torre que se hallaba a la derecha de Loztu y que tenía un letrero encima, pero Loztu no sabía leer el govriano.

—Disculpe, señor, no le entiendo.

El govriano, demostrando su falta de modales, resopló y dijo:

—Entras por esa puerta, entregas todas tus armas y te darán un papel con tu nombre y un número. Cuando te vayas de Albe, entras de nuevo, entregas el papel y te devolverán tus armas. ¿Lo entiendes ahora o te lo repito?

Aquel individuo era irritante, pero Loztu se portó como se esperaba de un hakol e hizo caso omiso.

—Lo entiendo, señor, muchas gracias.

El guardia le dejó seguir y Loztu entró donde le habían indicado. Se encontró con la sala más peculiar que había visto nunca. El mobilliario y la decoración govrianas eran muy distintas a las hakol. La enorme habitación en la que estaba era mucho más colorida que la equivalente en Hakol y las paredes estaban decoradas a base de azulejos con motivos geométricos. Había seis guardias con armadura completa que le impresionaron por su tamaño y armamento. Frente a él, había un muro con una abertura de unos cuatro metros en la que se alzaba un mostrador grande, cubierto o hecho de madera. Había un hombre con aire distraído detrás y una buena candidad de armarios a espaldas del hombre.

Dispuesto a no dejarse impresionar, se aproximó decidido al mostrador y descubrió que su superficie horizontal estaba por encima de su cabeza. Le pareció ridículo tratar de encaramarse, así que alzó la mano derecha y la movió por encima del mostrador mientras decía:

—¡Señor, disculpe!

Después de unos instantes, el govriano se asomó por encima del mostrador y dijo:

—¡Pero hombre de Dios! Venga por aquí.

Loztu caminó hacia donde le habían indicado y se detuvo al ver abrirse una puerta en la parte del mostrador que estaba pegada a la pared. La parte del mostrador sobre la puerta se podía abrir también, de manera que Loztu podía ver perfectamente al govriano, que se inclinaba ligeramente hacia él. El hombre dijo:

—Entrégueme sus armas, por favor.

Loztu obedeció, aunque le intranquilizaba mucho desprenderse del hacha. Cuando le tendió todas sus armas, recordó que las instituciones públicas govrianas eran muy corruptas. Así que cuando el funcionario puso las armas en el mostrador para examinarlas, sacó un puñado de monedas y le dijo:

—Estas son las armas de mi familia. ¿Bastaría esto para asegurarme de que las cuidan bien?

Con disimulo le mostró unas monedas que valían dos marcos y seis squiles, que tuvo que revisar para asegurarse de que le daba una cantidad adecuada. El sistema monetario govriano era más complejo que el hakol y Loztu seguía sin saber si una cantidad era alta o baja. Tampoco ayudaba que, frente a las dos empleadas en Hakol: el pwk dividido en cien selyt, en Govria usaran tres tipos de monedas: el dalie, que se dividía en seis marcos, cada uno de los cuales se dividía en doce squiles. El govriano le miró con mala cara y respondió:

—El peto también me lo tiene que entregar. Y la tarifa para eso que me dice está en ese cartel.

Le señaló un pergamino extendido clavado en una pared. En las instituciones de la República no había carteles porque se entendía que esa información debían darla los funcionarios. No había previsto que no saber leer el govriano fuera un problema.

—Discúlpeme, señor, pero no sé leer govriano.

—La tarifa oficial son cuatro marcos. Por favor, necesito el peto.

Loztu se quitó el peto y se lo entregó junto al dinero que le pedía. El govriano sacó un par de pergaminos de un cajón empotrado en el mostrador, uno de ellos pequeño, y añadió:

—¿Cómo se llama?

—Loztu, señor.

Escribió el nombre y dijo:

—¿Apellido?

—Trokolgu.

Le vio consultar un libro enorme, escribir en el pergamino grande y en el pequeño y, finalmente, le acercó el grande, pluma y tintero y le dijo:

—Firme en la parte inferior derecha. Si no sabe escribir, ponga una cruz o un círculo.

—Sé escribir, señor, pero en mi lengua, no en govriano.

—Servirá.

Tuvo que firmar en el suelo, porque no había otra superficie adecuada a su altura. Tras aquello, el hombre le dio el pergamino pequeño y le dijo que ya podía marcharse. Mientras salía, miró el papel, lleno de signos incomprensibles. Había cuatro líneas cortas sueltas, que supuso enumeraban las armas entregadas. Se lo guardó en el jubón y, esta vez, nadie le impidió entrar en Albe.
Capitulo V: Al otro lado del muro
Y la aventura de Loztu empieza por fin. Su primera etapa es breve y tiene lugar en un sitio en apariencia tranquilo. Puedo adelantar que va a encontrarse con govrianos por primera vez.

Como banda sonora, hasta en momento en que ve unas ruinas, podría sonar el Canto de Andar, de Luar na Lubre, una preciosa canción de estilo medieval cantada en gallego: www.youtube.com/watch?v=63OeB5…; En el vídeo hay cuantas filmaciones grabadas en Galicia, en el Cabo Ortegal, aparte de la letra en gallego y castellano en subtítulos.

Se me olvidaba un comentario. El sistema monetario govriano está inspirado en el danés hasta el siglo XVIII-XIX. En el sistema danés, 1 rigsdaler valía 6 marcos, cada uno de los cuales valía 16 skilling. En Govria está el dalie (de oro) dividido en 6 marcos (de plata) a su vez dividido en 12 squiles. Quiero reforzar con ello el carácter nórdico del país, aunque al ser un reino fantástico pueda incluir elementos de otras culturas.

The version in English is here: imageshr.deviantart.com/art/Ch…
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Yesterday, I saw two persons who reminded me some situations about my story that takes place in Govria and Hakol countries, the one that starts here: Chapter I: Farewell, Koltu .

The first one has not appeared yet. It will appear in chapter eight or nine. I talked in this chapter about three men that wore white long sleeved shirts and troussers and black waistcoats or vests. In a commercial area I saw a man dressed in that way. He was from the India, I think, and he was accompanied by a woman dressed as if she were from that country.

The second one was a girl with dwarfism that I found in a pub dancing with other three girls (I do not know how is that in other countries: in Spain is usual that girls and boys do not mingle while dancing: girls and boys dances in separate groups). She was really little, less that 3 feet. She was surrounded by people as twice as tall, and I remembered that Loztu, whose height is equal to 3 feet, should look in the same way if he were visiting a govrian city, walking in any govrian street.

The interesting thing is that these two visions took place the same day.

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Neivria loathed doing that, but she had no option. She stood near a wall, in a crowded street. She wore a very low-cut dress and bodice and she tried to approach some gullible man who would feel attracted by her cleavage. That morning she had made two unsuccessful attempts.

Albe was a huge city, full of criminals and with markets that seemed to be plenty of opportunities for a thief, but she could not take advantage of any. She passed the three first days after arriving to Albe settling in her aunt's house and knowing the city. At the fourth day, she walked through the Square of Govria, the biggest in the city. That day, the square was a marketplace. She had not practised very much, but she thought that stealing the money from an unwary passer-by would be easy. She saw a man who held a doublet, with his back towards her. Neivria put her hand into his clothes, grabbed a pouch with a few coins... and she felt that her waist was grabbed firmly. The man turned and told her:

"Are you trying to steal from me?"

"Of course not, sir, it's just that..."

"Liar!"

The man hurt her and despite she struggled, he did not let her loose. Finally, she could release pushing the man and she escaped running. She tried again several times during some days, but the only that she got was a bump produced by something that a woman threw while she escaped from her after she tried to stole a pendant from that woman. Neivria got tired of so much failing and she thought that she should team up with other criminals until she earned enough experience. She went over the taverns in the rough part of Albe until two men with dangerous looks approached her and they proposed to her the job that was doing in these moments. Her role was easy: going over a crowded street dressed in a way that attracted attention, seducing any gullible passer-by and bringing him to an alley where her two mates will rob from him everything that he carried. Although it was not easy to convince her victims because people in Albe were wary, they were able to rob three or four men by day. Her part of the loot was the smallest, because her role was the less risky. However, the worst thing for Neivria was that neither her skills, nor her training, nor her intelligence let her to earn money: she was only successful if she showed her cleavage. She deluded herself thinking that she would laugh about these so difficult first steps in her criminal career when she were a feared pirate.

Neivria noticed that a very tall and handsome man with a moustache peeped at her. She thought that he could have a high status and decided to try. She followed him for a while and when he stopped in front of a tavern, she pretended to stumble into him by accident.

"Excuse me, sir. I was miles away."

She felt glad because the man gazed at her and he answered, smiling:

"No need to apologise. You can do it again."

Neivria laughed and remained close to him. She moved her hand to her chest, as if she wanted to cover herself, but, instead, she put it on her dress. That trick never failed: the man, following her hand, looked at her cleavage.

"Thank you, sir."

She went away from him a few steps, wiggling her hips, and she invited to him to follow her with a glance. The man told:

"May I walk with you?"

"If you wish..."

They walked for a while and the man told:

"Your accent is very nice. Where do you come from?"

"From Malgate". She smiled and told: "Thank you, but it's a farmer's accent."

"It sounds very well in your lips."

She loved the compliment. The man turned to his back and brought her behind a big column, pushing her gently. He made Neivria lean her back against its surface. She was trapped between the stone and his arms, and the man gazed at her as if he wanted to kiss her. However, Neivria did not mind, because she felt attracted to him. He approached his face to hers and, instead of kissing her, he whispered in her ear:

"You are gorgeous."

She loved being whispered in that way. And she had to contain herself for not panting when, in a very gentle way, the man started to kiss her neck, from the ear to the bottom. She let him to continue until she considered that it would be not safe to spend more time. Then, she stopped him telling:

"Please, not here."

The man stood up straight in order to look at her:

"Why not?"

"Because anybody could see us. I know a more discreet place."

Her companion looked at her attentively:

"An alley?"

"Yes. It's very close to here."

"OK. Let's go."

The man stretched his forearm and they started to walking arm in arm. When they were near the place where he would be ambushed, Neivria saddened. She would go by for having a good time with that handsome and seductive man, but if she would do, her accomplices would get angry. She was so tired of nasty men who forced her to be continuously putting their hands aside her breasts, that she was happy to have known a very different kind of man. She asked him to enter the alley, but the man trapped her again between the wall and his arms and he told:

"Is this the alley you talked about?"

"Yes, it is. Come on!"

"Your accomplices are waiting for me there, aren't they?"

And, before Neivria could react, she found a dagger at a fraction of an inch from her throat. She felt that her heart started to beat really fast and she looked at the man with very opened eyes. He made gestures with his hand and three men that Neivria had not seen until that moment drew their swords and entered the alley. Neivria started to tremble: in Albe only policemen could bear arms.

Neivria heard shouts in the alley while her captor forced her to enter. Her two accomplices went out after a moment with their arms tied in their backs by shackles. One of them, Bumold, looked at her and shouted:

"Did you try to seduce a policeman, you bloody idiot?"

Neivria was affected so deeply that could not answer, but her captor told:

"Do not bother her. I pretended to take the bait. We received several reports from people robbed that were related to a girl with farmer's accent and we decided to capture her."

Her captor forced her to turn and another policeman tied her hands in her back by shackles. She had to contain her tears when she understood that everything was over for her. All her dreams had been broken; she would rot in jail for a long time, perhaps, during years.

The policemen and their prisoners went out the alley. Neivria and her captor walked in the last place and the others had to  hack their way through a group of nosy passers-by. Without levelling her sight, with trembling voice, Neivria told:

"What will happen to me?"

"I don't know. The judge will decide."

They continued moving forward through a very meandering path and, after a long time, they arrived to a huge building and went down to the basement. Her captor took off the shackles from her and, without telling a single word, he locked Neivria up in a small musty smelled cell. The roof was very high and it had only a tiny window at the top. Neivria passed several hours there, feeling very anxious, thinking that she could pass several years locked up in a place like that, or, even, in a worst place. She would never sail the ocean; her world would be reduced to the space between the four walls of her cell.

The same policeman who captured her freed her and took Neivria to a luxury office. A skinny man, with almost not hair and a long and sharp nose, was sat behind a desk. His name was Novot and he was a judge. When he approached, Neivria did not know where she had to place her hands, so she crossed them in front of her, with her arms lowered. His expression was hard and bitter and he was about two inches shorter than her. He asked Neivria about her name, origin, where she lived and the people that lived with her and, finally, if she knew what she was charged with. Neivria answered with low voice, raising her sight as less as possible. She had to tell the judge in which way she started to work with her old accomplices. After that, the judge sashayed pensive in front of her and he asked:

"Aren't you too young for being a criminal, Miss Neivria?"

"I'm nineteen years old, Mister judge."

"That's what I said: too young. And address me as 'your Honour', please". He sashayed for a while and told: "Do that aunt, in whose home you live, know what you work as?"

Neivria always feared that her aunt would realise that she was a thief; however, she was going to pass some time in jail, so she would realise anyway. She was honest:

"She has no idea, your Honour."

The judge looked at her for a while and told to the policeman:

"Percin, tie her wrists with the shackles. We are going to know to Miss Neivria's aunt."

He obeyed and after that, they went out the building accompanied by three more policemen and Neivria conducted them to her aunt's house. The judge knocked the door and, after a short time, her aunt went out. Neivria had a lump in her throat that became unbearable when her aunt seemed terrified looking at the judge, the policemen and Neivria. The judge told:

"Good afternoon, madam, am I talking to Olvanda?"

"Yes, sir, what is happening?"

"Do you know this girl?"

"Yes, I do. She's Neivria, my niece. What did happen?"

The judge answered:

"Let's talk in your house", and he entered.

The judge passed a lot of time in her aunt's house and went out alone. He had in his face the same sour look that he had in his office. He looked at Neivria and told:

"You made your aunt really upset, Miss Neivria, and I think that she did not deserve that."

That was a torture for Neivria and she had to exert herself for containing and begging the judge to be jailed once and for all. He added:

"Did you know that if any of your accomplices had killed one of the victims that you sent to them, you would be sentenced to death in this moment?"

She answered with a tiny voice:

"They assured that they would not kill anybody."

"And did you believe that? Oh, yes! They were not interested in killing anybody because if they would do, they would be lost, but if any of their victims would have resisted with determination, these swine would get angry and would kill him by accident. You wouldn't be the first one who was hanged for something like that."

Neivria felt dizzy and had to make an effort in order to avoid falling down. She hanged on one of the policemen who had trapped her and the policeman held her firmly in order to avoid that she fell down. The judge looked at her and told:

"You were very lucky, Miss Neivria. After getting tired of crying, your aunt begged for mercy upon you, and I will be compassionate. I sentence to you to imprisonment for two weeks. I hope that the darkness, the loneliness and the silence will help you to think about what you want to do with your life from now."

He faced Percin and told:

"Imprison her in one of the cells in the basement. We will draw up the documents after; now, I will have a drink."

And Novot went away accompanied by two policemen. Neivria, Percin and the other policeman came back the building where she was interrogated by the judge. During the walk, she almost came down due to the tension that she had to bear. She recovered when she understood completely how lucky she was. However, she became tormented all the time because she was really near to lose everything in exchange of a few coins of loot.
Chapter IV: Broken dreams
This chapter is devoted to describe Neivria's life after her arrival to Albe. Some comments. I inspired in the "corchetes" for describing the policemen. The "corchetes" were, more or less, policemen during 16th and 17th centuries in Spain. They were in charge of capturing criminals and a sort of "judicial agents". By this, in Govria they receive their orders from the judges. Also, govrian judges are similar to the Spanish ones (and the european ones, perhaps) from that period. In these centuries, the investigation were carried directly by the judges, with the help of the police. Nowadays, judges do not search for evidences that could condemn the prisoners, but that was usual five centuries ago. The problem was that the judge was not impartial since he investigated for gather evidence against the prisoners. Novot acts in that way.

Govria is more similar to a nordic country that to Spain, although I used the historical information that I know the best. Anyway, the judicial system that I depict is not intended to be historically accurate.

Novot judge is the most "Spanish" character so far. I do not know explain why I think that. Perhaps due to his teatricallity (he sashays, he brings with him four policemen for impressing), for his slight arrogance, for his paternalism and his attempts for approaching the prisoners...

Translation of this chapter was difficult for me, mainly, in the dialogues. In Spanish version, I use a lot the "usted-tú" system (deference treatment vs normal speaking) and I do not know if I could express in the proper way the diferences between "usted" and "tú", that are both translated into English as "you". I use a lot in Spanish the deference treatment in order to stablish the relationship between two or more characters. For instance, in Spanish Neivria uses "usted" when she stumbles the handsome man, but he uses immediately "tú" when he answers. He uses "tú" because he liked Neivria and she understands immediately and starts to use "tú" for addressing him. In English I tried to translated making Neivria to addressing him as "sir". When the man answers, he does not use "Miss" or "madam". I'm afraid that the slight sarcasm in some judge's dialogue lines is lost in translation.

La versión en español está aquí: imageshr.deviantart.com/art/Ca…
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Neivria detestaba hacer aquello, pero no tenía alternativa. Estaba de pie cerca de una pared, en una calle transitada. Llevaba un vestido muy escotado y buscaba abordar a algún incauto al que atrajera su escote. Esa mañana había hecho un par de intentos sin éxito.

Albe era una ciudad enorme, con una población criminal de buen tamaño y mercados que parecían llenos de oportunidades para una ladrona, pero no había conseguido aprovechar ninguna de ellas. Dejó pasar tres días tras su llegada para instalarse en casa de su tía y conocer la ciudad. Al cuarto día empezó a recorrer la Plaza de Govria, la mayor de la ciudad, en día de mercado. No lo había practicado mucho, pero robarle la bolsa a algún viandante despistado parecía fácil. Vio a un tipo que sostenía un jubón con el brazo izquierdo, de espaldas a ella. Le deslizó la mano entre sus ropas, agarró un saquillo con unas cuantas monedas... y notó que le asían la muñeca con mucha fuerza. El hombre se volvió y le dijo:

—¿Me estás robando?

—No señor, claro que no, es que...

—¡Embustera!

Le hacía daño y aunque forcejeó, no la soltaba. Consiguió liberarse dándole un empujón y echó a correr. Lo intentó varias veces más durante unos días, pero lo único que consiguió fue un chichón producido por algo que le lanzó una mujer, a la que había intentado quitarle un colgante, mientras huía de ella. Se cansó de tanto fracaso y pensó que debería asociarse con otros malhechores hasta adquirir experiencia. Recorrió varias tabernas de los bajos fondos de Albe hasta que un par de tipos con muy mal aspecto la abordaron y le ofrecieron el trabajo que hacía en aquellos momentos. Su papel era sencillo: pasearse por una calle transitada con una ropa que llamara la atención, seducir a algún incauto y llevárselo a un callejón donde los otros dos tipos le robarían lo que llevase lejos de la vista de los demás. Y aunque no era fácil porque la gente de Albe era desconfiada, lograban desvalijar a tres o cuatro cada día. Su parte era pequeña: su papel era el menos arriesgado. Aunque lo peor para Neivria consistía en saber que ni su habilidad, ni su entrenamiento, ni su inteligencia eran lo que le permitía ganar algún dinero: sólo conseguía resultados si lucía escote. Se ilusionaba pensando en que cuando fuera una pirata temida por todos los marineros, se reiría de aquellos comienzos tan difíciles.

Se fijó en que un hombre con bigote, muy alto y muy apuesto, la miraba con disimulo. Por su aspecto, le pareció alguien de cierta posición y decidió tantearlo. Le siguió un trecho y cuando se detuvo a la puerta de una taberna, fingió tropezar por accidente con él.

—Discúlpeme, señor. Iba distraída.

Le gustó comprobar que el hombre la miró de arriba abajo con interés y que respondió sonriendo:

—No te disculpes. Por mi parte, puedes hacerlo otra vez.

Neivria se rio y se quedó muy cerca de él. Se llevó la mano al pecho, como si quisiera cubrirse, pero lo que hizo fue posarla sobre el vestido. Aquel truco nunca fallaba: al hombre se le fue la vista al escote.

—Gracias, señor.

Se alejó de él unos pasos, contoneándose, y le invitó a seguirla lanzándole una mirada. El hombre dijo:

—¿Te acompaño?

—Si quieres...

Caminaron un rato y su acompañante dijo:

—Tienes un acento muy bonito. ¿De dónde eres?

—De Malgate—. Tras una sonrisa añadió—: gracias, pero mi acento es de campesina.

—En tus labios suena muy bien.

Le encantó el cumplido. El hombre miró hacia atrás y, empujándola suavemente, la llevó tras una columna muy grande y la hizo apoyar la espalda en su superficie. La tenía atrapada contra la piedra y la miraba como si quisiera besarla, pero a Neivria no le importaba, no sólo porque su objetivo fuera seducirle, sino porque le atraía. El hombre acercó el rostro al de Neivria y, en vez de besarla, le susurró al oído:

—Eres preciosa.

Le encantaba que le susurraran de esa manera. Y tuvo que reprimirse para no jadear cuando, con mucha suavidad, el hombre empezó a besarle el cuello, bajando desde la oreja. Le dejó hacer todo el tiempo que consideró prudente y le detuvo diciéndole:

—Aquí no.

El hombre se enderezó para mirarla:

—¿Por qué no?

—Porque nos van a ver... Conozco un sitio más discreto.

Su acompañante la miró con interés:

—¿Un callejón?

—Sí. Muy cerca de aquí.

—Muy bien. Vámonos.

El hombre le tendió un brazo y caminaron por la calle cogidos del brazo. Cuando estuvieron muy cerca del lugar donde iban a tenderle la emboscada, Neivria sintió algo de lástima. Si no fuera porque sus compañeros se enfadarían mucho, habría pasado de largo y se habría ido a disfrutar de un buen rato con aquel hombre tan seductor. Estaba tan harta de tipejos cuyas manos tenía que desviar continuamente de sus pechos que le agradaba haber conocido a alguien diferente. Le indicó que entraran en el callejón, pero el hombre la volvió a atrapar entre la pared y sus brazos y le dijo:

—¿Ese es el callejón al que me llevas?

—Sí. Vamos.

—Ahí me esperan tus compinches, ¿cierto?

Y antes de que Neivria pudiera reaccionar, tenía una daga a milímetros de su garganta. Sintió que el corazón se le desbocaba y miró al hombre con los ojos muy abiertos. Éste hizo gestos con una mano y tres hombres que Neivria no había visto hasta entonces, desenvainaron y entraron en el callejón. Neivria empezó a temblar; en Albe no se permitía a nadie que no fuera policía llevar armas.

Neivria oyó gritos en el callejón mientras su captor la obligaba a entrar en el mismo. Sus dos compañeros salieron al rato con los brazos atados a la espalda con grilletes, empujados por los policías. Uno de ellos, Bumold, la miró y gritó:

—¿Has intentado seducir a un policía, pedazo de imbécil?

Neivria estaba demasiado conmocionada para responder. Fue el hombre que la retenía quien dijo:

—Déjala en paz. Fui yo quién la busqué. Habíamos recibido varias denuncias de robo relacionadas con una chica con acento de pueblo y fuimos a por ella.

Su captor la hizo volverse y otro policía la obligó a poner las manos en la espalda y le aprisionó las muñecas con grilletes. Tuvo que aguantarse las ganas de llorar cuando comprendió que aquello era el fin. Todos sus sueños se habían roto; iba a pudrirse en una celda durante mucho tiempo, quizá, años.

Los policías y sus prisioneros salieron del callejón. Neivria y su captor cerraban la marcha y los de delante tuvieron que abrirse paso a través de un grupo de curiosos. Sin alzar la vista, con voz trémula, Neivria dijo:

—¿Qué me va a pasar?

—No lo sé. Es cosa del juez.

Siguieron avanzando por una ruta un tanto sinuosa y, al cabo de un buen rato, llegaron a un edificio enorme, bajaron al sótano, su captor le quitó los grilletes y, sin una palabra, la encerró en una celda pequeña con olor a humedad, con el techo muy alto y una sola ventana diminuta muy arriba. Neivria pasó varias horas allí, angustiada, pensando que pasaría en un sitio así, o peor, largos años. Nunca surcaría los mares; no conocería más mundo que cuatro paredes.

El mismo policía que la había capturado fue quien la sacó de su encierro y la llevó a un despacho lujoso. Detrás de un escritorio había un hombre delgado, con muy poco pelo y la nariz larga y afilada. Se llamaba Novot y era juez. Cuando se le acercó, Neivria no sabía donde poner las manos, y las cruzó por delante de ella, con los brazos bajados. Su expresión era dura y amarga, y mediría cinco centímetros menos que ella. Le preguntó su nombre, procedencia, dónde vivía y con quien y, por último, si sabía de qué se le acusaba. Neivria respondió a todo con voz débil, alzando la vista lo imprescindible. Tuvo que contarle de qué manera empezó a trabajar con aquellos dos. Tras ello, el juez se paseó pensativo frente a ella y preguntó:

—¿No es usted muy joven para ser delincuente?

—Ya tengo diecinueve años, señor juez.

—Lo que he dicho, demasiado joven. Y llámeme "su señoría"—. Tras otro paseo, añadió—: ¿Y esa tía con quien vive sabe a qué dedica usted?

Siempre había temido que su tía supiera que era una ladrona, aunque dado que iba a pasar un tiempo en la cárcel, se iba a enterar de todos modos. Neivria dijo la verdad:

—No tiene ni idea, su señoría.

El juez la miró un rato y le dijo al policía:

—Percin, póngale los grilletes. Vamos a conocer a la tía de la señorita.

Así lo hizo. Tras ello, salieron del edificio acompañados de tres policías más y Neivria les llevó a su casa. El juez llamó a la puerta y tras una breve espera, su tía salió. Neivria tenía un nudo en la garganta que se volvió insoportable cuando su tía miró aterrada al juez, a los policías y a ella. Antes de que dijera nada, el juez dijo:

—Buenas tardes, señora, ¿es usted Olvanda?

—Sí, señor. ¿Qué sucede?

—¿Conoce a esta muchacha?

—Sí, es mi sobrina Neivria. ¿Qué ha pasado?

—Hablemos dentro— respondió el juez, y entró.

El juez pasó mucho tiempo en casa de su tía y salió de ella solo. Mostraba la misma expresión avinagrada que en su despacho. Miró a Neivria y dijo:

—Le ha dado un disgusto enorme a su tía, y no creo que ella lo mereciera.

Aquello era una tortura para Neivria y le costó contenerse y no exigirle al juez que la encerrara de una vez. Éste añadió:

—¿Sabe que si cualquiera de sus compinches hubiera matado a alguna de las víctimas que usted les entregó, estaría ahora mismo condenada a muerte?

Con un hilo de voz, respondió:

—Me aseguraron que no matarían a nadie.

—¿Y usted se lo creyó? ¡Oh, sí! No les interesaba matar a nadie porque estarían perdidos, pero bastaría con que cualquiera de sus víctimas se resistiera con determinación para que esos canallas montaran en cólera y lo matasen. No sería usted la primera que acaba en la horca por algo así.

Neivria se sintió mareada y tuvo que esforzarse por no caerse. Se apoyó en uno de los policías que la sujetaban, quien la asió con más fuerza para evitar que fuera al suelo. El juez la miró y dijo:

—Ha tenido mucha suerte, Neivria. Después de hartarse de llorar, su tía me suplicó piedad para usted, y se la voy a conceder. La condeno a dos semanas de reclusión. Espero que la oscuridad, la soledad y el silencio la hagan pensar en lo que quiere hacer con su vida a partir de ahora.

Se volvió hacia Percin y dijo:

—Llévesela y enciérrela en una de las mazmorras del sótano. Redactaremos los documentos después; ahora voy a beber algo.

Y se marchó con dos de los policías. Neivria, Percin y el otro policía regresaron al edificio donde la había interrogado el juez. Durante el camino, estuvo a punto de venirse abajo por culpa de la tensión que había padecido. Se recuperó cuando terminó de asimilar la suerte que había tenido, aunque no dejaba de atormentarse al saber lo cerca que había estado de perderlo todo a cambio de las pocas monedas que había obtenido como botín.
Capitulo IV: Suennos rotos
El título del capítulo es "Sueños rotos", obviamente, pero no puedo poner eñes en el título.

En este capítulo narro cómo es la vida de Neivria tras abandonar su pueblo natal. Sólo unos comentarios. Los policías que aparecen aquí están inspirados en los corchetes, un equivalente aproximado de la España del Siglo de Oro. Los corchetes eran los encargados de capturar a los delincuentes y eran una especie de agentes judiciales. Por eso, hago depender a la policía directamente de los jueces. Por otro lado, los jueces govrianos se parecen a los españoles (y quizá al resto de los europeos) de la época. En esa época no sucedía lo que hoy en día, en que la investigación policial y la judicial son independientes. En el Siglo de Oro, los jueces investigaban activamente al reo, en vez de oír las conclusiones policiales. Eso tenía el problema de falta de imparcialidad, porque el que juzgaba se ocupaba de buscar las pruebas incriminatorias. El juez Novot actúa de esa manera, como puede leerse.

Govria es más parecida a un país nórdico que a España, aunque me haya inspirado en los datos históricos que mejor conozco. Y, de todos modos, el sistema judicial que describo no pretende ser histórico.

El juez Novot es el personaje más "español" que ha aparecido hasta ahora. No sabría decir exactamente por qué: por su teatralidad (se pone a dar paseos, se hace acompañar de cuatro policías para impresionar), por el punto de arrogancia que tiene, por la cercanía y el paternalismo que muestra hacia los reos...

A version in English is here: imageshr.deviantart.com/art/Ch…
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Yesterday, I saw two persons who reminded me some situations about my story that takes place in Govria and Hakol countries, the one that starts here: Chapter I: Farewell, Koltu .

The first one has not appeared yet. It will appear in chapter eight or nine. I talked in this chapter about three men that wore white long sleeved shirts and troussers and black waistcoats or vests. In a commercial area I saw a man dressed in that way. He was from the India, I think, and he was accompanied by a woman dressed as if she were from that country.

The second one was a girl with dwarfism that I found in a pub dancing with other three girls (I do not know how is that in other countries: in Spain is usual that girls and boys do not mingle while dancing: girls and boys dances in separate groups). She was really little, less that 3 feet. She was surrounded by people as twice as tall, and I remembered that Loztu, whose height is equal to 3 feet, should look in the same way if he were visiting a govrian city, walking in any govrian street.

The interesting thing is that these two visions took place the same day.

deviantID

Imageshr
Spain
I will start to fill my profile. First of all, I must say that English is not my native tongue, so I would like to apologise for the mistakes in my texts. If your mother tongue is English, your corrections will be welcome.

I will use this place to publish erotic tales. I am too shy for writting this kind of literature, so in this profile I will always remain annonymous.

A very important remark is that my writtings are intended to be respectful with the women (and with the men). I will never write about humiliations, rapes or other kind of topics that could be interpreted as a defense of treating women as if they were born only to be sexual objects. If you think that this is my goal then, probably, I will need to improve a lot my English.

I hope that you enjoy my writtings, when published.

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:iconunicornqueen123:
UnicornQueen123 Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2015  New Deviant Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks you for the fav! It means a lot! :) :D
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Imageshr Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2015
You are welcome. The photo is wonderful; I love cats :)
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:iconunicornqueen123:
UnicornQueen123 Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2015  New Deviant Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you :) And yes same 
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Lewdster Featured By Owner Apr 6, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you the :+devwatch:!
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Imageshr Featured By Owner Apr 6, 2015
You are welcome. I liked your comic Miss-En-Scene
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Imageshr Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014
You are welcome :)
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:iconxti100lagrimas:
xti100lagrimas Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2014
Así que te has dedicado a fotografiar flores en mi ausencia eh eh ehhh!! Hacía mucho que no me pasaba por aquí jaja Bonitas fotos :)
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Imageshr Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2014
Hola. Gracias por la visita y me alegro de que te gusten las fotos. También he estado escribiendo algunas cosas, aparte de fotografiar flores. A ver si subo algo por aquí, que hace tiempo que no lo hago.

Espero que sigas paseándote por DeviantArt de vez en cuando. Un saludo.
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:iconxti100lagrimas:
xti100lagrimas Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2014
Pues ya estás tardando jajaja nah, si yo estoy igual, textos sin terminar y por supuesto sin subir, que desastre!
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