The deep-set, strangely colored eyes looked absent in the cloudy haze surrounding them.

Eyebrows like the determined stroke of a brush held by an original and artistic hand. Disconcertingly long and lavish lashes that would now capriciously hide the languid gloss, now accentuate the whiteness surrounding the iris. The bluish shade, hinting at minute veins glowing through delicate lids. The abyss of shadow that created a shocking contrast between the luster of those eyes and the silken hue of the skin surrounding them. They were not beautiful eyes but haunting, harassing, agonizing in their vacancy. They did not merely hide a secret but buried it thirty feet deep, covering even the very spot of disturbed earth with a three-fold veil.

What was behind them? There was no promise in them, and yet for a glimpse of the mystery - no, even for a glimpse at the veils hiding that mystery - men would be ready to kill.

Men would be ready to kill.

This story is, strictly speaking, not historical in the purest sense of the word. It tells about people and places that you'll never find in any history book. Unless, of course, you'd happen to find the national library of a country called Revnash. No, don't go looking for that either. Even though it's sometimes hard for me to remember, it is located in a fictional world. In fact, it's the very big northern neighbour of another country called Dorelion (where, hundreds of years after the events told in this story, you can find a charming rascal called Leone... the hero of 'Never Forget the Importance of Style', another story of mine).

So, if you happen to ask a Revnashi person, the setting of this story is definitely historical. Actually it's so ancient history that some people might be tempted to prefer the name 'mythology'. But as we know, that tends to happen when events are sufficiently far in the past and stories of them have had enough time to spread and mutate into fanciful proportions. And yet, at the root of it, there have been real events and real people living through them.

Remember: everything I write contains male/male relationships at some point of the story. It may also, at some point, contain descriptions that may disturb the squeamish. If those will be a problem for you, don't even start reading.

This story is dedicated to my partner Aigha without whom none of these stories would exist.