Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 33

Chapter 33

The road was still as boring, long, and dusty as it had seemed at the beginning. The creaking of the wheels, the neighing of the horses, the smell of sweat, leather, and shit in equal proportions - all this did not add to my good mood, and it legitimately gave me a headache and a willingness to kill another legendary creature for a hot bath. I think I've conveyed enough of the shades of my mood, at that moment, when Tarya, hitherto silent and quiet, said just one phrase:

"Teach me, Tin." Quietly and mundane, she said, as if she were commenting on the weather.

To be honest, I was waiting for this moment, and I was a little afraid. Even a hedgehog knew that sooner or later my words would have to sprout, like the seed that was sown. Until now, the girl herself had remained silent, limiting herself to small talk about nothing and cooking, not trying to demonstrate that she had heard my point of view at all.

I can't even say what I wanted more: for her to make the first move, or for her to remain withdrawn. The latter, of course, was low and despicable on my part, but bordes don't let go of the bitard, even after many years. I didn't know how to talk to girls, and I still haven't!

However, since she was able to transcend her traumas and fears, leaving them behind and taking that very, many times mentioned, step into a new life, it would be ugly and wrong to back out now. No, I could probably make a case for "she found her own way" and other crap like kung fu warrior movies, but that would be a pretty messy decision. It's kind of rotten. I mean, I almost broke her personality (not even talking about the ring!), and when she's accepted the need for change, I tell her to "deal with it, dearie, yourself"? No! Since I gave her my hand, I'll have to drag along the one who now has no other way but to follow me.

"And what do you want to learn?" I ask distantly, not taking my eyes away from the bright blue sky, which seems to be a vast and boundless ocean, into which it would be too easy to fall forever.

"Anything!" Suddenly she says, happily and cheerfully, and pokes me in the side with her elbow. "I really don't know anything about the world, and what I do know and know how to do... You're right, Tin, I don't want that either. So teach me, my lord, according to your will!"

The last phrase was so out of step with the townswoman's vocabulary that I almost coughed. Was she quoting someone? However, there can only be one answer to such a phrase. Only, perhaps, I will cover the two of us with silence, so that the ears of others do not burn. Even if the noise around us is strong, and we are talking very quietly, what if our coachman, for example, decides to warm his ears. Right now he is busy arguing with his acquaintance leading the cart next to us, but you can't be too careful.

"No way!" I shook my head disapprovingly. "You must decide what you want, my beauty or nothing will ever change for you. First circumstances dictated your will, and now I will dictate it. I gave you a choice, so choose, don't dump it on me! Just think hard and tell me, what would you like?"

"It's not that easy, you know!" I think she even got a little indignant.

"So I'm not rushing you." I try to calm the emerging resentment. "Think about all the things you wanted that you could never afford. Not just mountains of gold and silver, but what you wanted to be. Say this."

I feel like a therapist from an American movie, but I see no other options for having a conversation, and I can't slip. I really wonder what exactly she will answer, what she considers important?

"To see the world, I guess." She stretched out in a low voice. "When I was a kid, I always wanted to run away, far away, where there was no one but me. I couldn't escape, and I had nowhere to go, so I stayed."

I punch my inner hiki in the jaw, forcing myself to listen and try to understand. You can't make funny jokes here; she needs support and encouragement. In a good way, I should have started this conversation earlier, but the main thing now is not to ruin this endeavor, since by some miracle she was able to overcome herself.

"We'll see the world, there's no doubt about it." I nodded. "But I don't think you'll be interested in dusty roads and stinking caravans, like this. I can't take you to the most beautiful places in the world in an instant, but I can show you. I'll try to show you."

An idea took shape in my head that seemed more tempting and clever by the second, to the point of desperate bewilderment that I hadn't come up with it before. I had no choice but to be amazed at my shortsightedness. But even though I had grown accustomed to my abilities, I did not always use them for creative and unorthodox purposes (unless, of course, those purposes involved murder).

The skill works perfectly, and a level-six townswoman has no chance of deflecting or even weakening such an effect. After a few heartbeats, we are both sound asleep.

"I've been wanting to ask you something for a long time, Tarija." I turned to the maiden who flinched at the sound of my voice. "You speak too well for a standard townswoman, especially compared to the rest of your fellows. Where did that come from?"

The object of my interest only gave me a frown, and then I looked around once more, appreciating the endless landscapes of the violet shimmer of the dream world.

"You're kidding me now, aren't you?" The woman asked sadly, her eyes fixed on me with frightened eyes. "Will you at least tell me what's going on? Where are we?"

"Eck!" That's all I could say.

Okay, I admit, I'm a bit of a klutz. I'm too used to the dream world, so much so that I don't even pay attention to it, but for my companion, even just being here is already quite stressful. It's trivial for her to look away from my figure, because then she would have to look into the shifting mists that replace the floor, the ceiling, and the walls, stretching for miles in all directions. Infinity is frightening, and this world seems truly endless.

Realizing my mistake, I instantly took control of the dream, turning it into a small and cozy room, stacked with soft armchairs and equipped with a hot fireplace. This elicited an immediate reaction, followed by calm. She still doesn't know what's going on here, but the nightmarish abyss beneath her feet is already gone, which is good.

"I apologize. My mistake, I admit my guilt." I start apologizing right away because I intuitively feel that it was my fault. "We are in a world of dreams, where any dream you see, and quite fantastic, can become a reality if you try hard enough... Geez, I feel like I'm reciting a travel brochure. So, I decided to show you through my dreams the places I have been, would like to be and have never been. Here it is."

A moment of silence, and then that pest, that traitorous face, that vile bitch, quietly giggled and started laughing! Laughing at me, bitch, laughing! She's in withdrawal, she's stressed out! And I feel like an idiot! I mean, I feel even more like an idiot than usual.

"Oh, you should have seen your face, Tin." She finally calmed down, though, and stopped laughing. "I was really scared, sorry for laughing... Phew... Don't do that again without warning, please, that fog was really scary."

"Well, all right!" I waved both hands away. "I already realized I was stupid, and I even know exactly where. I'm going to put you back in a good mood with the speedy hiking route. That is, I'll show you different interesting places, because you didn't understand, about tourism... Shit, I'm going on a fucked-up date again... It's not a date, by the way! Why are you laughing again?"

And she was really laughing like a goddamn terminal stand-up victim, except she wasn't rolling around on the floor! She even managed to fall into a freshly created upholstered chair, unable to stand on her feet. No, I understand that dealing with the opposite sex I am a little dumb, but that's no reason to mock me. Which of us is the boss, and which of us is the submissive follower promised me by the Ring? I've never been mocked in a fantasy medieval time!

"I'm sorry, but you look so funny when you make excuses, I can't help it." She seemed to like the chair, for she did not seem about to get out of it. "Just like the son of the chief magistrate's clerk when he came to ask for the hand of the blacksmith's daughter. All dressed up like a turkey, and babbling, too..."

She noticed the kindness on my face, though, and then decided that her cool stories could be left for later, rather than retold now. For I was seriously considering giving her a quick preview of the golden collection of horror movies of Earth. In the first person, so to speak.

"My mother was literate, though she didn't say where she learned it." Quickly, quickly, this bird chirped. "She never taught me, but she always spoke well, and I tried to follow her. It came in handy later in life when I had to play. They believe easier and all that, that's all."

She started to answer the question I'd asked at the beginning of the conversation, determined to placate me and distract me from thinking about all sorts of bad things. I had to admit that she had succeeded in calming me down and then dispelled the chainsaw that had been formed from the matter of dreams. Obviously, it was working and humming.

"An ulcer," I said as if I were passing a verdict in court and diagnosing it in my medical records at the same time. "You are a complete pest, totally devoid of conscience and self-preservation."

"The sneaky and insidious enslaver." She answers in the same tone. "You've bewitched me right away, and you're not even going to fuck me. Or... You don't like women, you like men? Just say the word, I might as well use my new power and bring... It didn't work, did it?"

The last phrase she uttered without faked embarrassment and understanding squint, but in a quite normal tone. She's going to troll me again!

Shut up, girl! - I'm making a mean face. - I didn't buy that kind of joke after the first two weeks on the boards, and you're planning on playing me on my own turf? You got a lot of balls!

Of course I didn't fall for it, but my butt was on fire for the first two weeks. But that's the way it is with everyone on the Internet - until you get a shot, you can't communicate normally with the degenerates and moral freaks that inhabit the network. Especially if you are one yourself.

I look at Tariоa, who pretends to be all "obediently modest" again, except for shuffling her foot (because she's sitting in a chair), and then I smile and laugh softly. I admit that this altercation has really cheered me up, which, after weeks of silence, when the only companion, even if silent, was Ygra and her "Y", was far from being at its best. Tarija laughed, too, not withstanding the theatrical pause and destroying the image of the modesty she had so carefully constructed.

"Okay, what would you like to see?" Having calmed down, I return to my previous course.

Give it all you've got. - The girl finally thawed out with a sly smirk. - I'll take a look, and I'll tell you.

"Well, lady, you asked for it yourself..."

I was going to do my best to show off what I could, to get the most out of my abilities. I really wanted to show off my skills, to show off, and I was not going to hide it. And the hope that the system would view my artwork positively enough to raise the last level of the ability I had not fully mastered played its part, too.

And I was creating like never before.

I showed her the underground city I had visited, but by rewinding it in time to the years when it was still inhabited by living and breathing creatures, rather than a vast necropolis. I had to make a lot of things up as I went along, but I had the basis, as well as a high degree of concentration with a sick imagination.

We sat in the same cushioned armchairs, and majestic halls full of light and human noise passed us by, mysterious corridors covered with secret signs, laughing people going about their business. I led an admiring, unadulterated-looking woman to an underground reservoir, in which there were no monsters, only crystal-clear water. She even got out of her chair (after making sure it wasn't dangerous), wetting her hands with the water. And tried to splash me!

I didn't upset her and let her get me wet, and then I retaliated by having to adjust the dream to dry us both out near the end. But it was, without a doubt, fun, almost for the first time since I'd arrived in Kraj. Fun and good-naturedly funny. This world doesn't get enough good jokes at all, yes.

After that, I showed her the central hall, where the evil Spectre now sat, only without the destruction and desolation. The shimmering threads of all sorts of charms, the engravings and bas-reliefs, the mirror-finished floor, and the hundreds of reflections from the magical lamps that turned the room into a living fairy tale.

I showed her the most beautiful forest scenery, avoiding a demonstration of the greenskins that inhabit those forests. I showed her the sunrises by the river, when the sky turns blood-red and the wind blows your hair like you're standing on the bow of a ship.

I led her through the gloomy, yet delightfully enchanting swamps, whose magic was not even spoiled by the multitude of monsters that inhabited them. I led her through the forest at night, when it is filled with the rustles and thousands of sounds that permeate the world with an endless melody.

I replicated the landscapes and beauties I'd seen in other people's dreams, drawing from myself to get the fullest picture possible. Many of the locals had been to Stavrock, the capital of the kingdom of Melaret, to which Kraj belonged, so I could easily skim the scenery in front of us. The city, by the way, is really beautiful, somewhat reminiscent of modern historical centers - stone houses, stone sculptures, and stone paving stones. That's if you don't go out of the rich neighborhoods, of course, because there's plenty of dirt and crap in the rest of the place.

I also went through all kinds of fantasy pictures, movies, and games, creating real, or rather seemingly real, prototypes in my dreams. Tarija was especially impressed by the almost entirely realistic map of the first Dark Souls, which are based on Gogol, that is, which are Dark Souls. For once it came in handy to memorize these places, and everyone was saying don't nerd out, don't nerd out!

The scenery of the dead city impressed her, I bet the tooth. Not my own, of course, but you know what I mean.

I was done after more than twenty-four hours of subjective time when Tarija's eyes began to slip shut in her dreams. I decided then that I was going to hurt her a little more because unlike me, she wasn't used to working with dreams for long periods of time. And we are now in my dream (it's easier and better quality scenarios), not hers, so stretching the time puts a lot of stress on her brain. Let her rest and get some real sleep, and I'll think about it.

When I got back to reality and made the sniffling body comfortable on my shoulder, I really thought about it. The fact that dreams can be used in different ways was already clear to me, but today was an eye-opener. The possibilities of dreams are not limited to nightmares, training, and behavioral fixations, for I had missed a whole layer of different tricks.

Can I teach her the dagger technique by my example? Or are the skills only trained in reality. What would happen if I tried to spar with her in dreams? How does her hypnotits work when she's in such a shaky world and does it work at all? Can I teach her to read and write while in a dream and while accelerated?

A whole bunch of questions, and it's been more than a week since we talked about the meaning of life! I'd better get out of my shell and get to work, now that I have the chance. It is possible to drag ballast along all the time, of course, but it is better not to. Especially since this ballast is not really ballast, but a member of the team to conquer the world. So far the team has only two personalities and two whole, three-tenths (Ygra, yes) reasonable, but it's just the beginning.

Since my Shadowlord class makes me a thoroughly dark character, it's about time I started thinking about following the Dark Lord code, creating the Death Star and the Ring of Omnipotence.

So it was!

It was only about five days to Ostmark, and the caravan began to scatter. The first to disappear were the guards and the adventurers, who had turned back to their homelands. They ought to have stayed another day or two, but they hurried to sort out the spoils of the orcs I'd slain. While the meat had long been scavenged by scavengers, simple knickknacks such as enchanted weapons and amulets remained. Though rummaging through the decaying corpses and their remains would be unpleasant.

Then the small co-caravaners began to drop off one by one and in groups as they went about their business. Some stayed in small villages to sell some of their goods, rest, and decide where to go next, or even to turn back. Some were just lucky enough to have relatives in such places. Some did not have enough money or supplies for a longer journey, so they had to leave right away.

In any case, the caravan was almost halved, after which our speed increased a little, and the caravan drivers themselves relaxed considerably. The dangerous lands have been traversed, and here, if we are to expect an attack, it is only dashing people. The chance is not very high, because these gangs prefer to walk in the depths of the more settled areas, where it's easier to hide and get away from pursuit, and where there are so many small villages, which is so easy to hide a base. But here people are simple - they see a thug, they chop up a thug.

"The first thing I'll do in Ostmark is going to the market for clothes." Tarija grimly grumbled. "After the bathroom."

I have to agree with her opinion, and put my head down at the same time. It was enough for me, to clean my clothes and body just to step a couple of times in the Shadow and back. But it was very difficult for the girl, who had only two sets of clothes with her, because there was not much water in the caravan, there was no place to bathe, and the heat was terrible. I could have thought about taking more clothes, but I was in a hurry at the time, and she was scared to open her mouth once more.

We had to clean the body and clothes with hastily made alchemical reagents. The wet washcloth "made by Kostik" was undoubtedly monstrously effective, but it was no substitute for normal washing.

"I guess I am, too." Nodding. "I mean about the bathing, not the rags."

I got the proverbial "what do you know, inferior?" look that women of all worlds and races were able to cast, and then they turned away in anger. It took about five seconds for the insult to last, and then they started to poke me again.

"Are there going to dream tonight?" And there's so much hope in her voice, it's embarrassing.

Since our first interaction, I have continuously used sleepwalking to communicate, teach, and even develop my partners. I was able, for example, to identify several patterns of learning in dreams. Tarija learned to read the local language syllable in four days. I mean the kind of writing they teach the rich merchants here. Of course, I did not know it myself, and I was not going to teach Tarya Russian or English, because it was risky. And I was a lousy teacher.

But I knew that there was a professional "tutor" in the caravan, who had been hired to teach rich kids by their rich parents. The parents, by the way, turned out to be cultists, even if not mutated, so the man who had miraculously escaped a fate worse than death (not at all old, by the way) panicked and fled the region.

I spared him from his long-standing nightmares and gave him only pleasant dreams, and in return I made him work in his dreams, teaching poor Tarija to read and write. The apprentice herself, in return for all her laments, was promised that for every lecture she would receive another excursion to all sorts of beautiful things. The last time I took her through the streets of Minas Tirith, and before that, it was the Titanic.

The patient cried and stabbed, but continued to eat the cactus.
T.N.

"They will be today." I resigned myself to giving her the day off, or she might have a nervous breakdown at this rate. "I think that you might be able to read the signs on the taverns, and you were pretty good at counting before, so you can be happy that today we're resting."

I was kissed on the cheek and she started to build a fire while stretching her tired legs. We'd camped until morning, and she'd been too tired to sit all day. The hints of intimacy in this heat, in the absence of water sources nearby, but the presence of a whole bunch of prying eyes were not even made to me. Tarija was a smart lady, and she knew that if I decided to fuck her, it would only be after we entered the city.

However, some of the lucky people who had their carriages or closed-roof wagons were not in the least disturbed by other people's eyes. Especially my "victim," to whom I arranged a luxurious life with his two mistresses, distinguished himself. Honestly, several times I had to move from my wagon with shadow steps to have a good laugh in the woods, scaring the animals and birds!

Sometimes I'm shocked at myself because this can only be done under a wild drinking spree or harsh chemistry. But I managed on my own, for my alternative giftedness needs no external power! Only my own sick mind, only hardcore!

Actually, the guy's having a little catastrophe right now, with his broken priorities, his difficult moral choices, and all that other crap of the same sort. He can't yet admit to himself that he's been subjugated and used in every way by his two maids, whom he used to view as living mannequins.

But somehow every time they played with him, weakness overcame his body, and his mind found a thousand reasons why he couldn't make a fuss now and have a scandal that would just kill the damn bitches who had lost all sense of boundaries. And so it was, day after day and time after time, with more and more "situational amusements," after which he had to hide the suspicious stains on his pants, which he was not even allowed to take off once. And it's a good thing they let those stains show up, instead of leaving him unsatisfied and mad as hell.

Like, for instance, right now, when the youngest of the pair - only eighteen winters old - puts his head on the carriage seat and sits on his face. At this time, her mother (thirty-five at the most, guys) does not let escape from a firm grip, sitting on his stomach, at the same time also working her hands right through the thick fabric, once again leading "master" to the edge, but not allowing him to step over. At least he "agreed" to lend them some cleansing potions, so at least the girl's body was clean. He'd do anything now, though, after a few minutes of this - the pleasure he was getting would put a damper on free will and resistance.

That's it for moron.

I was still working with Yggra, who was the most dangerous creature in the forest and was no longer in danger in the area. I had to order her once, however, to increase the distance she kept from our camp because a couple of the remaining guards had almost spotted her tracks.

The rest of the time she is either hunting, sleeping, or, pardon my French, wanking. The latter seems to have become her favorite thing to do, and the sensitivity of her ring-altered body is beyond praise. It's funny enough, but in combat, she ignores pain even better than before, but pleasure easily makes her drift in seconds. Or is it the fact that her hands are guided by the skill of a master at making love? Clairvoyance thinks it's all fifty-fifty here, which I agree with, in general.

The thought of taking an alchemical pheromone suppressant and then poking the big Amazon, just so she wouldn't suffer alone, is crossing my mind more and more often. I could be wrong, but among the reasons for these flickering thoughts, I see prolonged abstinence and a fully available beauty constantly sleeping at my side. If there were a creek here or at least a stone bathtub like on that damn island, I'd probably have a "three-night stand".

Alas, for now all we can do is sigh and wait in silence for Ostmark.

"Are you **** the most, smartest, ****?" Politely asks the leader of a small group of five people who decided to borrow some money from a "clearly wealthy man," which of course he will surely pay back... someday. "Like, so we're not a human being to you, ****, ***** your mother? А? What, men, are we going to put up with such ******?"

In fact, the departure of most of the guards and the transformation of one large caravan into a dozen small ones, just following the main one, was the reason for such a sharp increase in courage, clarity, and aggressiveness in the ranks of previously quiet and law-abiding people. The huge fat man, who had gathered this gang into one fist, said his weighty "I have brought you to safe lands, now fuck all you want, but I am ashamed", after which his mercenaries began to keep only his wagons under control. Naturally, I could have joined them again for a small bribe (it's possible that they did it for the coins), but I slept through the opportunity.

Or rather, I had paid, but I had not arranged for my luggage and transport to be hauled to the guarded area by a cabby who had finally gotten a drink. So there stands this cart full of luggage in the middle of the frankly marginal personalities, begging to spread its contents to the sides. Naturally, no one will risk killing us, openly certainly not - in this case, the mercenaries still intervene, but to trick for money, banal pressed to the point of giving himself the money ... very possible, necessary and approved for a real man. And I, if I wanted to be a real man, was obliged to lend money to the same man. And I, the scum like that, I don't respect them, I despise them. It's not a shame to punch me in the face for that, and it's also a shame to take the payment for insulting me.

If at first the actions of the sumo wrestler seemed pretty brutal. First the first time he charged the price, and then the second time, but now I understand him. I think it was really hard for his guards to keep those marginal people in line, especially after the guards and the adventurers had departed. As it was, all the more or less adequate paid a small price, and the rest stayed here. It was already clear that there were now two camps, a normal one and this one, separated by an empty space a hundred meters wide.

Hm.

If you think about it, they might kill someone, if they do it right.

"What are you, a bitch? You swallowed your tongue and shit yourself? Huh! You choked on shit, didn't you, ***?" At this point, even Tarija seemed to have a face-palm, even though she'd seen a lot of such figures.

As the immortal classic said, 'Yes, I know a lot of assholes, but I've never seen anyone as fucking stupid as these!'

The last of the five, squealing desperately, ran toward the road, straight toward another caravan, heading in the direction from which we had just come. He would have run to our guards for help, but he was too scared to realize it, and now it was too late.

The people around me laughed merrily, for the most part. There were, of course, some unhappy with the way I had treated the five true men, but for some reason, they didn't risk expressing their indignation to my face. The four bald, toothless guys, whose faces were hard to see because of their boils, were howling even louder now.

I was careful not to kill in front of witnesses, but an ordinary alchemist who smacked somebody with a prepared gift in a moment of danger is quite in the spirit of the local society. The clairvoyance indicates that even if this story is told, it won't last long, purely as a funny anecdote. In general, there are the least amount of dangers here.

But the need to take care of the last asshole, alas, does exist. Just so you don't lose face, which is a real shame by local standards. You get attacked, payback or everyone around you will think you're just a temporary possession of things they really need. I'd say I'm disgusted with such customs, and I don't care about that reputation myself, but the truth is, I'd be more than happy to kick the [bleep] out of that [bleep].

Just for the love of art.

Caravans are quite active along this route. Even though they only go to Kraj only in huge crowds to ensure safety (the smaller groups are just eating), I still saw quite often lines of wagons passing us. They were, by the way, the main reason for the sorest yelling of our caravaners - the road is quite narrow, and it is very difficult to determine who needs to pull up to the side of the road and who will get through first.

In order not to get stuck by bumping into each other, they use the turnoffs. If you see a turnoff, stop immediately and negotiate the order, while also looking for convenient parking spaces. Have you ever tried to place almost a hundred wagons so that another hundred could pass those that had stopped? Judging by the yelling, in which not even the prepositions were censorious, the task was very extraordinary.

This caravan, obviously, had already made a deal with ours, so they rode quietly and did not worry about anything. And here comes my victim running, yelling the standard "kill". The pretty unwise decision, because you can get a lash from the guards before you have time to be surprised, but the man was a phobia of any poison, so he was not thinking straight. It's not hard to guess that if you can literally know other people's fears like you know how to breathe.

Anyway, the runner got his kicks before I got past the couple hundred meters that separated us (I wasn't running, dropping feces, I was just walking leisurely). But when I started to approach my victim, I almost ran into an imaginary wall when I heard the voices of the men arguing. And then I smiled and walked even faster, literally rushing toward them.

It's...

This is unexpected, I admit.

"Yeah, why the fuck did you stop at all, you fucking assistant?" The rough and soaked bass was pounding on my eardrums, and the tone of his voice was a sign of considerable irritation. "There's no fucking place to stamp it, can't you see that?"

"Alas, my friend, I can see it clearly." Another voice, young and resonant, and with a much more proper accent, answer him. "I just really want to know what could have frightened him so much, and so close to a fortified caravan camp."

"P-please, good people, save me, please..." This is the incoherent muttering of the runaway poor thug, who seems to have received, thanks to my efforts, a lot of psychological trauma.

"You're looking for trouble on your ass again..." Tired, doomed, and as if resigned, the older interlocutor waved his hand. "Can't you wait till the bloody Kraj? There you'll have problems with orcs and monsters and khultists fuckers, as you say."

At this point I can't stand it any longer and correct the jaeger who made a mistake in the lexeme, pointing out his wrongdoing. For you should not use unfamiliar words if you are not sure that you can pronounce them correctly!

"The right word would be cultists." I cut into the conversation in so boring way as possible, which almost made the little man squeeze himself to pee... not nearly, fuck.

"Thank fuck, Tin, but the point is the same!" Hans, who had gone on a rampage, mechanically shrugged it off and was about to continue the tirade intended for the goggling Losij, when he suddenly realized it. "Tin?"

I could hardly keep from laughing when I saw the reactions of the two boys to my arrival. I hadn't expected such a reaction from myself, but, damn it, I was tired of the constant silence! And my clairvoyance clearly indicated that the two of them were happy to see me, genuinely happy. The first people in this world I'd ever met.

Are they friends?

I'm not sure yet, but they are definitely reliable comrades, to whom you can entrust your back. Although it is more likely that I will have to watch their backs, but the idea is understandable!

"Well, that's me." I try not to show my emotions.

"What about this one?" Hans points his finger at the still-crouched man.

"He wanted to rob me." I just answer the truth, as it were, which brings to my senses a silent Losij.

"You? Rob you?" His eyes immediately changed from squeamish (after this one had tried kissing his boots, begging for salvation) to the least bit respectful. That's how you look at someone who goes up against a dragon with a toothpick, tries to stop a fireball with his bare palm, or invests his savings in an MMM - a complete retarded degenerate, but not everyone has that kind of recklessness.

"Well, there were five of them." I parried, feeling the meeting scene slowly turn into some kind of bullshit circus. "Good to see you guys. Halt! Hands, hands-off, my ribs are going to crack!"

My cries were ignored. They couldn't hurt me with their embrace - it was too much of a difference in stats, multiplied by my reinforced bones. Although I admit, I'd like to strengthen them more now.

"Meet Tarija, guys." I introduce my companion, who is thoughtfully kicking the still-unrestrained, but already swearing robbers in the kidneys. "Tarija, I'd like you to meet Hans and Losij. Two strange men who decided to start looking for me to give me back a whole bunch of gold."

In response, I got a kick in the leg from Losij, indignant at my dirty insinuations about their honesty about the trophy, and a mouthed whistle from Hans, who didn't even think to hold a comment.

"I see you haven't wasted any time, Tin. You'd have to try pretty hard to find a girl like that, wouldn't you?" But he didn't even think of undressing her with his eyes or making advances, just admiring her.

"I'll tear your eyes out if you keep staring at me." She commented politely on Hans' rather frivolous remark, which only made him smile even more broadly.

"As you can see, her manners are not very good." Sadly, I commented to Locij on the actions of the comrades, who seemed to be enjoying their quarrel without even turning to swear.

"Are they related, by any chance?" The duelist asks with a certain amusement, to which he receives a synchronized indecent gesture in his direction, and then he can't stand it and laughs too.

I'd forgotten what it was like to really talk.

A couple of hours later, our wagon left the caravan, as did Hans and Losij (we arranged that quickly), and then we found a nice clearing, just right for a small group of travelers. The pot was bubbling over the fire, and the sausages and garlic were roasting deliciously, and the boys were taking out their flasks, and not empty at all.

Looks like the stars in the sky have aligned today to say "booze."

The main thing is not to drink to unconsciousness, or in the middle of the woods, you can die that way.

"So she originally tried to kill you?" The nobleman asks me again after I've told him part of my story.

Of course, I decided to keep the secret of the Ring, at least for now, but it would be foolish to hide the fact that this girl was a commonplace gangster. Both of my companions are quite worn out by life, and characteristic signs are easy to spot. If she can fool them with pretenses for a short time, but not for long.

"Everyone wants to bully an alchemist, especially if he has no patrons in town..." I shook my head in frustration.

"You have a strange way of finding allies, don't you?" To his credit, he didn't even suggest for a second that the girl had just tricked me into cheating. Though she might have.

" Really?" I give out my comments on the retelling of my adventures from the mouths of my comrades. "And I thought I was the only loser who managed to find trouble in the middle of nowhere."

All the trouble those two got into, really creeped me out! They, unlike me, had no superpowers, even though they were at a high level. And still managed to cope without dying on the road! Particularly memorable story with a nice and quiet village of cannibals, as if taken from some horror movie, and the village has infected the madness of the creature, which barely managed to win. I have a very complicated relationship with all sorts of cults and creatures. Deadly complicated, I'd say.

By the way, I noted an important detail: Hans and Losij have an amazing talent for working as a duo - the stories are so great that I don't know how to comment on them. Tarija listened enthusiastically. I avoided talking about my exploits. But I couldn't guarantee that she wasn't the one who was trying to trick the guys into information by playing the enthusiastic fool.

"It's quite simple, really," Losij says, with a slightly slurred tongue. "Something very unpleasant has been going on in Kraj, of sorts. There had been rumors of a possible Orc raid, and a cult in the city. So we thought we'd look for you where there was the most noise. So it's a pity we can't go there now: I have a great thirst to talk to such tan'hsey after that village."

To hear the always impeccably polite swordsman utter a fierce Elvish swear word was rather unexpected. But his attitude toward guys like that conveyed a hundred percent. I'm sorry to disappoint him.

"There's no cult with a legendary creature, and there's no orcish raid either." I am careful not to mention my participation in this "no", just out of pure paranoia.

"Oh, congratulations on your victory, eek!" Drunkenly muttered Hans, to the consonant nods of the aristocrat. "You haven't lost your shape since... hic... coming to civilization!"

"What makes you think it was my doing at all?" I asked these drunks indignantly, without any pretense of indignation.

"Well, look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't you." The duellist retorted, poking me accusingly with a fire-roasted and surprisingly delicious-smelling sausage.

He didn't see the moment the sausage came out of his hand, but that didn't take away from the smug expression on his face. The only thing he needed was the "I told you so" sign on his forehead, really.

"Well, that's how." All the alcohol in my blood was gone, wiped out the moment Losij, who looked serious, answered my question about how they'd found me. And my lack of surprise at the adventures I and they were having was understandable, too.

He answered very simply and clearly - he sent me a list of all his titles in the Status, among which the inscription " Companion of the Hero" proudly hovered. Now it is clear how they found me, and why they were so "lucky" to have all sorts of (un)pleasant things along the way. And the story, told by the grandfather of young Losij Asterium, made everything clear.

It wasn't that I was ashamed, but I felt bad that I had suspected the two of them for so long, actually subconsciously ready to attack and destroy dangerous witnesses at any moment, when they really wanted to help me. If they had wanted to make a mess, they wouldn't have had to try.

Hans, too, looks surprisingly sober, as if expecting something. Perhaps the same knives in the throat - unlike the rather frivolous young Losij, he knows how to cover the tracks. I suddenly realized that that was why he was drinking like crazy, to quell the nasty feeling of impending doom.

No.

It would be wrong to kill them now, especially after my motivational speech to Tarija, who was passed out from her drink. Since they'd jumped into the sinking boat with me, I'd have to treat them accordingly.

Remember when I complained about the lack of a villainous team of my own to conquer the world?

Now I really have one.

And I will have to conquer this world if I want to live in it, not survive.

The material?

The puppet?

Go to hell, you bastards! You called me here! You missed my appearance!

I don't give a shit about the fact that there's nowhere in this world waiting for me! I don't give a shit about all their handheld Heroes and Chosen Ones, I don't give a shit about their armies, their power, their authority!

My smile, I'm sure, would stop someone's heart, but neither the jaeger nor the duelist looks away. I silently hold out my clenched fist, with the two fists of my... ...now my companions. We don't need words, just as I don't need to test their loyalty through dreams - the clairvoyance working at maximum speed speaks, shouts, and howls about everything I'm ready to ask it.

We are silent, simply because everything that needed to be said was said long before this day, even long before my arrival on Alurej and the birth of my friends. Everything that needed to be said, everything that could be said, was not said by us or for us.

But it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing else matters.

You didn't wait, bitches?

And I'm already here!

* * *

12 pages.

Yet the loneliness met.

Dices are consistently good, but no crits on both sides.

The remoralization of Tarija is slowly going on, and MC's 4chan past is suddenly getting in the way of proper companionship. I dread the day when the MC will have to go on a date with a girl not subject to the Ring. That's how I imagine this epic, legendary, and mythical Fail at once.

P.S. Dear Anatoly Mikhailovich, yesterday you complained about the absence of any work with Tarija. She just did not fit into the chapter, and also the hero was long dumb, waiting for her move. That's exactly right. At first, I wanted to post this in the comments, but I did not want spoil it.

P.P.S. The way Hans and Losij got to MC and their adventures are described in a series of Omaks by the reader PahaVol. If you're interested, you can look for them at the link
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Q6YAXnkbdloXi1zcE0HfwXRYoUncQG7H/view.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/522826

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP