Nine were the knights who left Dragontina's palace, unaware and heedless of her curse. And so, they rode on towards Harmozyka, Zadracarta, and Margiana, where, according to the rumours of pilgrims and townsfolk, the battle was being fought between four kings, powerful in state and crown, for the hand and love of Marfisa. 

Two million soldiers were said to have clashed that day (if we are to believe the poets, who multiply everything tenfold). Horns sounded in the distance, hooves stamped, and banners fell and rose.  

Zamasphes watched as his city withstood the onslaught, while his troops arrived to reinforce it. There he was, resplendent as ever in his golden armour, commanding the troops of Persia from afar, like the wind commanding the sails and directing the bows.   

On the opposite side of the battlefield, we see Oridans leading the troops of Kusana. His robes are red and orange, like a shining dawn. A large gem adorns his turban, while another adorns the ring he wears on his tail. His royal guard is made up entirely of cercopes, magnificent and terrifying to behold.  

And so, despite the distance, these two suns of east and west seem to look at each other from afar. Each smile as if understanding the other's plan. Kusana's troops storm the walls: the humans stand guard, keeping the Persian troops busy; the cercopes climb and storm the walls. Hold or take the city, these are the terms of victory.  

And so, the two kings wait, each with a surprise in mind. There they were, the troops of Sarmatia, coming like a wave to the rescue. This immense cavalry splits in its advance. The humans go south to join the battle on the field; the sirens run east, seeming to crash into the walls. Madness? Despair? Here the Sirens are in the saddle, and with one leap they charge the walls. They run, they flap their wings, and with this thrust they scale the walls, unencumbered by the guards who are engaged by Oridans troops on the opposite side.  

The city of Margiana seems almost finished, but lo and behold, a new army emerges from the hill, led by Pandracon. There are no Hyperboreans with him, they are not a people who love violence, but the Alans follow him as terribly as the earth shakes.  

So, who will Jupiter give the victory to? Not everyone seems to care, least of all the nine horsemen watching from the hill.  

"And then people complain that Helen started the Trojan War..." said Rogerius, "what have you done, little sister, to make them so mad?"  

"Don't look at me!" replied Marfisa, "I can't help it if the men are stupid."  

"So, what shall we do?" said Rogerius, "Shall we go and tell them that you are here and that they are fighting for nothing?"  

"I don't know if drawing the attention of four armies is a good idea," Marfisa replied. "And then seriously? It's fine that I'm beautiful, but how many of you find me so beautiful that you want to take me to bed?"  

Hermanubius raised his hand, followed by Aquilans and Gryphon, obviously Madalgarius, Astulfus and of course Rolandus. Rogerius joined in, just so he wouldn't be the only male who didn't think she was beautiful.  

"..." (Marfisa).  

Medulfa snorted and raised her hand as well.  

"...?" (Aquilans)  

"...?" (Astulfus)  

"...?" (Gryphon)  

"...?" (Hermanubius)  

"...?" (Madalgarius)  

"...?" (Rogerius)  

"...?" (Rolandus)  

"What? She's got a nice body. It's just her character I can't stand," said Medulfa, before turning to Aesara.  

"I- it's not like I would take her to .... to... there, though, sometimes I'm a bit j- jealous of her... shape," said Aesara.  

"It's fine that men are useless, but the women here are a mess too," said Marfisa.  

Rogerius laughed. 

"Back to serious business? What do we do now?" said Rogerius.  

"Uf!" snorted Marfisa. "Aquilans, Gryphon. Go to your father Oliverius and tell him I am here. Rogerius, Hermanubius. Try Zamasphes. Aesara and Astulfus with the Oridans, and I'll take care of Pandracon. Let's see if we can convince them to settle this like adult.  

Said Marfisa, and perhaps it is best not to remind her that she did not exactly behave like an adult with Medulfa at the beginning of this story. Yes, maybe it's better not to remind her, partly because her idea isn't a bad one. 

"So... to the attack?" said Astulfus.  

"In a moment," replied Hermanubius moving away from his horse. 

He took his crossbow and loaded it with a resin ball. It was a strange crossbow, with many springs and gears. Once loaded, he aimed it at Pandracon with a blow that knocked his helmet off and knocked him from his horse.  

"And so falls our great king of Hyperborea and Alania," said Hermanubius, before mounting his horse again.   

It took Rogerius a while to connect the dots. "Wait. You're still angry with Pandracon for what happened in Rome."  

"No!" said Hermanubius, looking away.  

"..." (Rogerius). 

"If you are done with your vendettas, we can ride," Marfisa said before stopping a few paces from Phazanius. There was something about Aquilans and Gryphon's horses that had caught her attention. 

"What's that?" Marfisa said, pointing to something dangling from the saddles of the two sirens. 

"A stirrup," said Aquilans. 

"...?" 

"A stirrup," said Gryphon. 

"It's not like I'll understand better if you repeat it twice." 

Aquilans put his foot in the stirrup and used it to get on his horse, then said: "You Romans, how do you get on a horse?" 

Marfisa took her horse by the hairline near the ear, gave herself a push and climbed into the saddle. 

"Sure, you Romans complicate things," said Gryphon as he mounted his horse. 

Only Rolandus remained on the ground, saying: "I am still convinced that it is better to go on foot." 

"Yes, yes. I understand," said Marfisa, taking him by the collar and sitting him on her lap. "They are dangerous above and unreliable below." 

So, the nine came down from the hill. 

When in the sea the furious wind blows with great noise, it brings hail, rain and great terror. The wave is darkened by the clouded sky. With such ruin and such fury, the four armies moved on, but like a command from Jupiter, a new wind arose, cutting through the air and revealing a clear, blue sky that made them forget all their previous fear.  

So, the nine advanced, cutting through the air, and all seemed to turn and forget the battle that was still being fought. Four kings took up their telescopes to see these nine fools that no less than four armies were prepared to challenge, and all four were puzzled and amazed to see their prize.  

In front of Marfisa's face, the city lost all its value. Ambassadors and messengers were sent everywhere to order the hill taken. There was already talk of a fifth army, and in panic all the troops were reorganised. Every king wanted to talk to his ally.  

Aquilans and Gryphon made their way through the ranks and reached their father. They broke spears and shields. I cannot say whether they did so out of fear that Oliverius would be wounded, or out of fear that he would marry Marfisa and make her their mother. What is certain is that three lions were seen on the battlefield that day. All to attack! All to attack! Kill these three now that they are in one place, for if only one of them survives, this dynasty of Sarmatia will eventually conquer the world! But why am I shouting? The three of them together are unstoppable.  

Things are calmer for our Aesara, partly because Astulfus has learned his lesson from the last king he met and intends to approach the Oridans more diplomatically.   

The fate of Hermanubius is no different, for with him is Rogerius, and unlike his twin sister, he has a somewhat less impulsive character. It is a pity, because it does not look like it, but Hermanubius is an excellent archer and crossbowman on horseback. It would have been nice to see Nubian cavalry in Rome's service against Persian cavalry, but I suppose it's for the best. Hermanubius does not like to use violence, and an attack on the Persian King's Guard could probably cause a minor diplomatic backlash. 

There he is approaching. Proudly on horseback our Rogerius, while Hermanubius follows him. He is stopped by the guards and shows the ring with his imperial coat of arms.  

"I am Rogerius Ulpius Vopiscus, son of the emperor of Rome..." said Rogerius in an imposing but calm tone, "...your king of kings knows me, we have met before in Ecbatana and Rome."  

So it was that Zamasphes made pass a Rogerius, unaware of the surprise that awaited him. The king of kings was there, with his beautiful black hair and olive skin. At his side was a beautiful green-haired maiden whose presence unnerved all the soldiers, although I had promised them not to do anything strange (why is everyone afraid of me?). 

When he saw me, there was only one thing Rogerius could say in surprise, and that was, "Mum?!"  

"Oh, my goodness darling, that was supposed to be a secret until the second or third book," I said. "Or maybe even the fourth. I haven't decided how to divide them up yet."  

"Wait! It's not like this whole mess is happening because you've got it into your head to write a new epic poem?" said Rogerius, giving me a suspicious look.  

"Of course not, silly!" I replied with a smile. "Everyone knows I write prose."  

"..."  

"Then do I seem to have the power to move four armies?" I continued. "I just gave your sister a little nudge."  

"Let me guess. A little nudge like you gave our father?" he said with an even more suspicious look.  

"Well! I guess it went well with him," I said.  

For some reason, my son continued to look at me suspiciously, but then he shifted his eyes to Zamasphes. It is not good to ignore a king in front of his army. I stepped behind him, as is customary, but Rogerius is in danger of forgetting the etiquette.  

"Lord of Persia..." Rogerius began, "the Marfisa you are fighting for has just arrived on the battlefield. Stop these pointless fights, for you can be sure that no one possesses her now, and you cannot win her in this battle." 

"So Marfisa is here, but not in the hands of the Oridans, as he boasted," Zamasphes replied amusedly, with an arrogant grin on his lips. "I have every interest in seeing my Margiana unharmed by foreign troops. It will be difficult to convince that hothead Pandracon to accept my command."  

"It may not be that difficult. I see Marfisa is working hard to catch up with him," I said.  

"Then I guess this battle is already over..." said Zamasphes, "...I'm just sorry I can't see how that braggart will end up being cut down to size." 

With that, the King of Kings turned his gaze to the battlefield, where Marfisa can be seen descending furiously. Let us return to her, who is so in love with Madalgarius that she wants to show him how much she is worth. There is no prize more desirable than Marfisa, and she wants to show him. 

So, she makes her way through the confused crowd, approaching Pandracon but leaving her companions behind. Madalgarius and Medulfa follow in vain but stay behind. 

Pandracon can hardly believe his luck when he sees her coming and spurs his horse away from the battlefield. He cares little about appearing a coward, for he will soon have Marfisa to himself. 

With the intention of trapping Marfisa, he began to flee, running fast across the plain. Marfisa paid no attention to this ignominious flight, in fact she thought she was doing it out of fear; without any other thought she set out to follow him.  

They came to a dark forest, and in the middle of this flat forest was a beautiful meadow around a spring. 

No one knows who built it. It is said to have been created by Zoroaster to refresh the philosophers and entice them to wisdom and reason. The philosophers never found it, too good at going round in circles to find the right path; but for a young man like Pandracon, who cares little for the subtleties of language and prefers what can be demonstrated before his eyes, finding this spring was easy. 

Pandracon paused there at that fountain and dismounted to rest, but he would not take his weapons from his hands, nor would he remove his armour or shield; and he hardly waited for Marfisa to arrive, and when she saw him waiting at the fountain, she said to him: "King of Hyperborea and Alania, you have fled, and yet in Rome you showed yourself so strong and so brave!  

How could you be so ashamed to turn your back on a woman and a catizus? Perhaps you thought you could escape your fate after defying Rome in her amphitheatre? Now see how you deceived yourself. He who can lose honourably, must lose; for it often happens, and easily happens, that to avoid shame in a duel, shame and dishonour are acquired at once".  

Pandracon turned away at first, then answered in a low voice: "You are certainly the wisest woman I have ever found in my life; but you accuse me without reason. You Romans like to call others barbarians, but you do not know when others are using strategy. I wanted you alone in front of me to finish the duel I wanted to start in Rome". 

Pandracon threw her sword and shield to the side and spread her arms wide, inviting Marfisa to accept the challenge. 

"Come and face me as you would have done in Rome, but if I win, you must follow me to Hyperborea and become my queen. If I lose, you will have a captive king." 

Marfisa paused for a moment, then dismounted. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Rolandus. 

"If you prefer, we can go and argue with his entire army," said Marfisa, "...but while he's here, let's end the matter with this braggart." 

They took up their positions: Marfisa on one side, armed with cloak and sword; Pandracon on the other, armed only with his armour. Rolandus watched from a distance, hopeful and concerned for his friend's fate. 

There were no more words between them. Pandracon attacked and the bitter and cruel battle began. With fierce slashing and pointing blows, Marfisa was a master of skill, but the blade kept bouncing off Pandracon's armour, which he parried and struck with his forearms. They fought (as Rolandus later told it) until late in the evening, when, perhaps from fatigue or perhaps by mistake, Pandracon grabbed our lady by the wrist and refused to let go. She made a tentative attempt to free herself with one forearm but was caught by the other and held completely still. 

"What are you going to do now that I have you?" said Pandracon, to which Marfisa replied by blocking his leg with her own. 

"And what does that mean?" continued Pandracon. 

"It means that you are not new here, and that makes you my prisoner," Marfisa said. 

Pandracon tried to move, but in this position, there was no way to do so without losing his balance. Then he tilted his head back to headbutt her, but Marfisa tilted hers forward, blocking his chin. 

"Oh, no. No headbutt here," said Marfisa, to which Pandracon could only laugh. 

"You're just as cunning as I remember," said Pandracon, letting her go. 

They both looked up and noticed that the sun had set beyond the horizon and that the sky was beginning to turn starry. So Marfisa began to talk to Pandracon: "What shall we do..." she said, "...for the day is gone and so we cannot fight a duel?"  

Pandracon said with ready words: "We will both rest on this meadow, and in the morning, when the day comes, we will return together to fight." 

So, the decision was made by mutual consent. One approached the other and their fists touched, then they lay down on the green grass as if there was an ancient peace between them. They lay side by side, like old friends, in the shade of a great pine tree, while Rolandus stood far away, watching over his friend like a faithful guardian. 

"May I ask you a question?" said Marfisa. "I know I'm beautiful, but doesn't it seem excessive to send more soldiers into the field than all of Greece did for Helen of Troy?" 

"I do not know who this Helen of Troy is, but if they sent fewer soldiers than I did, it means that this Helen had nothing but her beauty," replied Pandracon. 

"...?" (Marfisa). 

"...?" (Rolandus). 

"You really don't remember what you gave me?" said Pandracon. 

"I took half of Rome to bed. Imagine me remembering who I gave what to?" 

"It's not because you slept with me that I want you to be my wife..." said Pandracon, laughing so sonorously that it would make any comedian feel incompetent, then he suddenly froze, "...no! Wait! That's part of it, but there's something else. You really don't remember me?" 

Marfisa and Rolandus examined Pandracon carefully: every angle, every part, until their gaze fell on his sunny face framed by red hair. 

"..." (Marfisa). 

"..." (Rolandus). 

"...!" (Marfisa). 

"...!" (Rolandus). 

"Wait! Are you not Lyrcanius?!" they both said in unison. 

Lyrcanius laughed, then said, "You really didn't recognise me? Pandracon it’s just a nickname." 

"How on earth could we have recognised you?" said Rolandus in surprise. "You've practically become a giant!" 

Marfisa, who was now curious, replied more calmly: "What did I give you that was so important?" 

Lyrcanius closed his eyes and began to tell of his youth: "My father earned his living by trading along the Rha and Tanais rivers. I helped him as much as I could, sometimes picking fights with the young men I met and overpowering larger opponents. 

I felt like a king in those days, and thought I would conquer the world with my strength, until one day my father decided to accompany some merchants to the Mediterranean.  

The first thing I saw were the imposing walls of Panticapeum, or at least they seemed imposing until I saw Tomis, Athens, Syracuse and Rome. Never in my life have I felt so small and insignificant as I did in those houses that I thought belonged to kings. Every single apartment in Rome was the home of a lord, and I need not tell you how the imperial palaces seemed to me when your father invited mine to speak to him of the unknown lands of the north. Unknown to you, at least. Remember what we did in the palace library?” 

"We had sex?" 

Lyrcanius laughed again. "Yes, that too, but also something more important." 

"...?" 

"Come on! You even bragged about it," said Lyrcanius. 

At this point Rolandus approached, curious to hear the answer, while Lyrcanius continued to insist: "Come on! I put all the tribes of Alania to work for you. What did you give me that was so valuable that you convinced an entire people to follow me to conquer you? You boast that you have half of Rome in your bed, but even if that were true, and I do not believe it, I doubt that they would follow me this far south just for you. 

Marfisa and Rolandus continued to look at him, puzzled and confused, but also extremely curious. 

"Wait! Isn't it because I taught you to read?" said Marfisa. 

"...?" (Rolandus). 

“It took you a long time to remember!” said Lyrcanius. “It was in this library that you impressed me by repeating exactly everything I said and wrote. I walked into that room thinking the books were stupid decorations, and I felt surrounded by the gazes of a thousand wise men a thousand years old." 

Lyrcanius rose and made the following speech: "For there are two ways of contending, the one by reason, the other by force; and as the former is proper to men and the latter to animals, the former must be resorted to as much as possible. And we need little reason to understand that we are born for justice, and that law is formed by nature.  

This is evident when we consider how natural it is for us to be sociable, and how little we differ in the pursuit of justice. Let arms then give way to toga, laurel to praise, for the health of the people lies in the supremacy of the laws.” 

Lyrcanius paused, as if moved by a nostalgic memory, then turned to Marfisa and said: "It was neither my strength nor my immense size that made me king of the tribes of Hyperborea and Alania, but these words I learned from your books. You in the south remember me as Pandracon: he who has the strength of a thousand dragons, but it was the wonders I brought north from your land that made me king over all kings and it’s only with knowledge and creativity that can I bring prosperity to my people.” 

“There is no individual of any people who, if guided by nature, cannot attain virtue” said Rolandus, closing her eyes.  

“Your heart is in the right place, but Marfisa's is elsewhere.” 

Marfisa did not answer, just looked away sadly, her thoughts elsewhere. So, they went to sleep, except for Lyrcanius, who understood Marfisa's feelings and left the forest in silence, and so must we.