Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 12

Chapter 12

The rest of our journey was remarkably monotonous, except for the one time I decided to use the summoning again to make a useful "acquaintance" with the creature from the Shadow. The second time, I was considerably more cautious, realizing how lucky I had been the last time I'd been summoned. Not that the Elder Shadows were dangerous to me - I was sure that I would dismantle them for parts if there was any fighting between us. But such an attack would be fatal for my comrades-in-arms, the Shadows excel at killing, fast and savagely. Any school named after Dark Coverlord would give them a red diploma without a second glance! They wouldn't shake their hand goodbye, though, lest they get their fucking hands chewed off, but otherwise, they're exemplary demonic creatures from a horror movie.

So this time I did not go at random. The first thing I did was to prepare for myself and Losius, as the only owner of the anti-shadow class, a complex of stimulating potions, and without any particular side effects. To increase their effectiveness, I even made them strictly individual, with the addition of essence from the recipient's blood. For anyone other than me or Losius, the potions we took (barely visible sky-blue for him and almost colorless for me) would be, if not poison, then certainly a delightful laxative.

I would have drawn some kind of protective circle as well, but, alas, that is not my specialty at all. Of course, the rudiments or even the advanced basics of Ritualism can be mastered without a special class, on the skill alone, but here you cannot do without a long training and education with mentors and literature. Even heroic learning has its limits... Maybe I should try some dabbling in ritualism for dummies myself in the future, though. Even an amateur can make a simple protective circle but at most, it can stop only a low-level, nearly-decayed deadman from the lack of energy. The Shadow can't be impressed by such tricks, except, on the contrary, to arouse contempt. So no protective circles, despite Locke's assurances that "he read how to do it, and even saw Kasia do it once". No, no, let's not do any unproven bullshit before an important and dangerous case.

The summoning took place in another clearing in the forest, even deeper in the thicket than the previous one. I'd bet that some kind of ritual had already been performed there, even if there was no trace of it left long ago. My magical perception was silent, but there was a whiff of something bad at the edge of my consciousness. It was the perfect place to summon something really, really bad, with a guarantee!

Everything went so according to plan that I unconsciously began to clench my buns, preparing to hear the famous "good evening" /// The hunter walks through the woods, looking for someone to shoot. Suddenly he sees something moving in the bushes. Just as he takes aim, a Hare jumps out of the bushes. "Don't kill me," he says, "I'll tell you some news for it, without which you can't be in the woods. The hunter hesitated: "Well," he said, "tell me your news. Hare: "There is a Moose in the forest. He fuck everyone, very cruelly, in all holes. But this Moose has one feature: he is very polite. The hunter was surprised and let the Hare go. He goes further. He sees something in the bushes, a redhead. He takes aim - a fox comes out of the bushes: "Don't kill me, I'll tell you news, without which you can't be in the forest." The Hunter was curious again, and the Fox told him about the Moose, who treats everyone cruelly, but is very, very polite. The Hunter shrugged his shoulders, let the Fox go, and went on. He sees something big sitting in the bushes. Just aimed - out of the bushes comes Bear: "Don't kill, I'll tell you the news". And he told him about the Moose. The Hunter was very thoughtful, let the Bear go, and sat down on a stump and wondered what the hell it was. Suddenly from behind two hooves rest on his shoulders and a soft voice: "Good evening...".///when the bad things did happen. And, doubly surprisingly, it didn't happen, even though I could still feel my ass as I walked right on the edge of some kind of trouble.

This time I was no longer pulling shadows at random but was trying to give the clearest and clearest description of what I wanted to pull into reality with my call. Even so, several times I had to send out creatures that were too brazen, or not exactly suited to my requirements. This was not so much the fault of the summoning technique itself, as it was the fault of the summoner - the wrong or incompletely set summoning conditions.

I contracted two full-fledged Shadows and one Elder, though this one was much weaker than the previous patient. The cold under my heart was much greater, and my emotions seemed to have faded and faded, as did my vision. It was as if suddenly you were not color-blind, but You look at a slightly faded picture. It seems that all the colors are in place - blue sky, green leaves, and red caps of some mushrooms, but the colors are too dull and fake, as if in an old photo.

I didn't feel any influence on my thinking, or any attempt to influence myself by the Shadows, but for some reason I was certain that I didn't need to summon more. I could do it, and even without much consequence, but I shouldn't. Intuition, of course, but I wouldn't need it to realize that truth.

The first full-fledged Shadow was presented as a pure fighter. Just in case there was an urgent need to leave a barrier that I didn't feel sorry for. The second, an equally pure scout, who would have to stick his nose where I wouldn't risk sticking mine. The scout looked like a small urchin, even smaller than a real snake. Except that, despite its small size, it was even more powerful than its " fellow fighter.".

This small creature, also because of its size, was able to seep between the joints of various magical nets and barriers. And in the most complicated cases, it could dive to a deeper layer where the barriers no longer manifest themselves, and emerge from the depths inside the protective perimeter. A bite from such a snake will allow the creature to pour a huge amount of shadow energy into someone else's body, almost guaranteed to kill them. The creature is greedy and vile, but cowardly. The creature didn't even have to be intimidated, because it agreed to the contract when it realized that it couldn't escape. I immediately paid that one with a piece of reserve.

The third fully-fledged Shadow looked like my favorite silhouettes - like a human figure with an enormous hump and disproportionately long, clawed arms. The creature had no special powers, but it was masterful at compacting and decompressing its body, either by passing blows through itself or by splitting a full knight's armor with a single sweep of its claws. It, too, had been summoned to reality before, and so it knew exactly what it wanted to pay: the lives of whoever the creatures pointed it toward. And it also hoped to fulfill its obligation, and then stay in reality and feast on the local wildlife, intelligent and not so intelligent. I agreed, largely because the reserve is not rubber, and an extra barrier is needed. And I have doubts that those against whom I send this creature will let it get away with it.

With the Elder, everything was much more complicated and easier at the same time.

I needed someone who could if I happened to walk alone again, cover my team from the enemy's magic while remaining smart enough not to try to eat them. Or rather not, for being under contract, the creature wouldn't risk touching them even if they were as dumb as bread. I needed a Shadow who could understand the very concept of "protecting some people from other people". One who could, in the first place, not rush into battle - into other people's souls and lives - but boringly and methodically put up barriers and hurdles, and hit numerous enemies with shadowy blows.

If I hadn't owned a mythical class, I wouldn't have been able to do any good. First of all, not every summoner can set such complex and rare selection criteria for the Shadow dwellers. And secondly, even if a summoner were able to wrest such a monster into reality, it would hardly want to do such a job, even if it could.

The creature, a completely complete abomination that came to my call, was very old, older than any other Shadow I had summoned. And it was also very intelligent, accustomed not only to killing and eating but also to studying and understanding its victims. The creature was incredibly dangerous, and communicating with it conjured up associations with Dr. Lecter sitting in a cage right now, figuring out how he would eat you to the sound of a classical violin. Very, very hard communication.

If it weren't for my recent title and my status as Lord, I wouldn't have succeeded. At most, I would have been able to get the world apart in different corners of the ring. But it listened to me, stayed silent (I mean, without sending any images or measurements) for almost a minute as if it were wondering if it was worth the trouble, and then it quoted me a price.

I told it to fuck off and whipped the creature painfully through the call noose, hinting at a price reduction.

The creature called the price again, but this time a smaller, more moderate one.

I told it to fuck off again, but I didn't strike again, limiting myself to a taut noose that stopped in an instant from impact.

So we haggled, testing its toughness until it reduced it wants to more or less normal values. I was left with an empty reserve, instantly restoring it with a Breath of Magic. The hatred of the creature intending to devour the weakened and foolish me as we made the deal, taking advantage of the total emptiness of my reserve, was a real balm to my soul, making me smile with such genuine joy that my face involuntarily turned into a monochrome face covered in a mesh of black veins, and the Joker's smile on my face nearly opened its shadowy maw. Some part of me, a part of me that frightened myself, was genuinely waiting for her attack, wishing she would even.

It left silently, and now I saw in the creature not only cold and evil calculation and humility before a greater power, but also the very real fear, deliciously sweetly mixed with the heartfuul hatred and rage of a deceived deceiver.

My face quickly returned to normal, the world regained its colors, even if they had been dimmed by the contracts, and I realized that I was done with summonses for the near future.

It came out pretty good, I think, especially with Elder.

The creature looked like... an awesome mantle cloak with a high collar, worn over an invisible cloak. Inside the cloak itself, there were shadow swirls, but it was the "fabric" of the cloak that was the body itself. And this cloak could, as already said, do many things. Basically, it was the same shadow control, almost reaching the level of myself at the time of the Battle of the Kraj. Even higher in some ways, I guess, but only in some aspects. There were also the standard shadow stealth and teleportation abilities, and an excellent ability to apply all of that together. The creature did indeed often work on the summons, learning perfectly how to interact with humans, and was even able to distinguish between "allies" and "outsiders," attacking only the latter and shielding from the former's blows.

It is true that such a treasure was usually paid for by a couple of dozen not the weakest sacrifices. He liked to eat ordinary peasants, but not as much as he liked high-level warriors and mages, like comparing buckwheat gruel to an awesomely refined restaurant menu. It even tasted elf once, with an unplatonic love and appetite for the race.

Anyway, with me, it would literally work "for the FOOD".

Whitewater was a completely ordinary town, much smaller than even Ostmark, not to mention the Krai. At most ten thousand people, the absence of any significant places and buildings, provincial appearance and complete calm and measuredness of the townspeople and villagers accustomed to a peaceful life. These are the kind of cities that are probably described in every second, if not every first, fantasy, when they want to give the hero of the work a rest in a quiet backwater and gain strength.

I was absolutely, positively sure that I shouldn't go there. I just didn't want to go there, didn't want to go near it, or show my face to anyone. We approached from the side of the old road, where almost no one walks these days. The clairvoyance made it clear that after some of the mines had been exhausted, all the villages and one small town in that direction had slowly deteriorated until they had disappeared altogether. It was because of this that we managed to get to Whitewater almost unnoticed, although we were still cautious and did not stop for the night in any of the villages. We haven't even seen the occasional traveler or caravan in the past week - it's really isolated, even if it's almost in the middle of the Melareth Kingdom territories.

And now, standing on a hill from which I could see the walls and the tallest buildings of the city, I was shamefully hesitant to go there. My intuition was silent, unwilling to tell me the reason for its warning cries. And clairvoyance was feeding me a bunch of unhelpful trivia, instead of giving me a clear answer to my questions. I couldn't tell if I was stupid, or if there was some kind of protection against people who liked to know everything, like me.

"I'm not going in there." All I say is that, causing suspicious glances from my comrades.

"So?" Hans, as always, pretends to be the avatar of brevity.

"Nothing." Answer. "There's some outlying farms or farmsteads over there. We'll settle there, preferably at night, so no one can see us. Taria will help make sure the owners don't spread rumors about the strange company. We'll wait a while, and then we'll get down to business."

"Is it that bad?" With feigned indifference asks the Duelist.

"No, oddly enough. The threat is not great at all, at least the one closest to the others. I just can't understand the source of the threat and the reason why we are under that threat." I dare to express my suspicions thoroughly. "It seems to be nothing, but considering my skill levels, the fact that I can't sense and examine the threat in detail raises legitimate concerns."

"Well, that's just f*cked up!" The girl sums it up. "Will there ever be a time when we all just show up, do our stuff, and everything is quick and easy, without a huge pile of problems and all kinds of freaks ruining our vacation?"

She still hasn't forgiven the long-dead bastards for ruining that night. I think I did them an admirable favor by killing them before the furious Taria got there.

"Okay." The pathfinder took the word. -"The farms, if I understand correctly, should be over there. We'll wait two hours for the sun to set, and then we'll be on our way."

So, we cal it a day.

Still, Taria's boobs are an incredibly cool cheat. It's also a very handy infiltration tool, almost completely devoid of flaws. All we had to do was choose a farm that was far enough away (half a day's walk to town) and big enough and rich enough, and then occupy it as guests of honor.

Quick treatment with a battle striptease and we just don't get noticed. Or rather not so. They cook food for us, make our beds, and follow our orders if asked, but in everything else, they just don't see us. It is as if four people walking around the grounds were a trifle, not worthy of any attention, and generally do not interfere with work. Even the horses were put in the stable, so as not to shine unfamiliar transport in front of possible prying eyes.

Seventeen people lived and worked on the farm - one family of owners and nine hired laborers, who served as guards against possible bad men. There were scarcely any bandits here anyway, and even the laborers had enough to deal with the occasional robbery. It's a quiet place, a good place.

We paid a pretty decent price for our lodging, though Taria looked at me like I was an idiot but my opinion is the same: while you can, don't hesitate to pay for a good service. Especially since we won't be poorer off the silver.

We spent the next two days just resting, keeping an eye on the local people and trying not to show our faces outside, though the latter was purely a tribute to my paranoia. No cults or sinister village cannibals were heard of here, though a couple of stories about monsters living in the woods were very convincing, as were a few missing ones.

The latter was strange, because we hadn't even encountered any wretched goblins, let alone more dangerous monsters, on the way here. Deep in the forests, of course, there was still some interesting prey for Ygra, but near the settled land, all sorts of abominations had long since disappeared. And there were real cases of disappearances, which raises legitimate questions.

The slightly dull colors no longer cause surprise and the desire to wipe my eyes, but they annoy me enormously. I can hardly keep myself from cutting off the contracts, getting rid of the ice flakes under my heart that are worse than bitter radishes. I put up with it more out of reluctance to waste the carefully prepared trump card than out of real necessity.

We can't have a normal workout - there are too many eyes and ears, and there are guests on the farm (and then we have to sit in the house, entertaining each other with tales). We limit ourselves to regular warm-up exercises, even without the dreams I created. Firstly, to save strength, and secondly, because without practicing what we have learned in reality, no amount of dreaming will help.

Ygra was frolicking in the distant forests, once again threatening the population of local wildlife and slowly getting deeper and deeper into the thicket. Losius was reading a book he had brought from home, making some notes there. Hans and Taria were playing dice, quietly trying to catch each other cheating and trying not to get caught.

We waited.

"Is it hard for you?" Hans continued his whining. "I'm asking you for the little things, you ruthless witch!"

Hans was suddenly faced with a very amusing situation. The farmer had two pretty maids, and a young and very beautiful daughter. And they would not have minded the rude but effective advances of the pathfinder. The maids certainly didn't mind, which was confirmed by the clairvoyance. If it weren't for the fact that Taria's brainwashing had turned them into obedient dummies, ready to do any order without even realizing the impropriety of what was going on.

When all three girls at once, in response to the vulgarly humorous suggestion to show what they had under their dresses, smiled politely and pulled up their skirts, Hans was a little taken aback. Then he became enthusiastic. Then he hesitated. And then he spat and went to Taria to ask her to give the girls back at least part of their brains because it was not interesting.

"Fuck, even the whores in the brothel are somehow more interesting than those... these! Be a human being, Taria, don't mock the good people." Hans pressed with authority, meaning by good people only himself and Losius. The latter, by the way, also looked at the local girls with interest, but without fanaticism.

While my company was trying to figure out how to reprogram the minds of the peasants, so that they could be seduced for real, and arguing about the morality of such an action, I tried to find an answer to my suspicions about Whitewater. And the first thing I did was to drag to the guest room a large round mirror about half a meter in diameter, which stood in the room of the farmer himself. He lived richly, if he could afford such things - the interior detail would be more suitable for some aristocratic families than for ordinary farmers.

Well, there are all kinds of landowners, including people like these.

The mirror was brought in, after which I silently wiped it with a cloth and... I remembered that I had promised myself not to stick my head into any holes without prior preparation. After dragging Losius and Taria out of another game of dice, and Hans out of the bed of the fair-haired maid, whom he had dragged there by "conventional" methods, I began to explain my plan, which was met without much enthusiasm, but with an understanding of its necessity.

A look in the mirror.

The look is deeper than the reflection itself.

Activation of the Soaring in the Dreams.

The Edge of Reflection.

Let's rumble.

It was easy enough to use the mirror as an amplifier, but the biggest strain was on my brain - it was too taxing on the mind. Fortunately, I had already achieved the rank of a great master in clairvoyance, which allowed me to cancel out ninety percent of the overall discomfort of the process. The more so that the process was now well controlled, and the stimulants and tonics specially created for the purpose were flowing in my blood.

The fun was added by an activatedSoaring in the Dreams, gradually filling the room with flashes of purple mist that flowed in and out of the reflection, changing shape, color, and the meaning it contained. All I had to do was to pick up this flow, direct it toward the right target, and wish to see.

And I saw.

Whitawater was surrounded by a peculiar field, which was almost impossible to smell unless one possessed the enhanced skills of intuition and premonition. It was not a dome, a barrier, or a net, but rather a fog covering the entire area. Barely perceptible, barely perceptible, but quite effective.

I was confronted by another clairvoyant or similar class, honed to watch over a certain territory. My non-existence skill would allow me to conceal my presence, to feed a prepared lie, to substitute a void and a blank slate. Especially now that I'm already aware of the presence of such surveillance. But there's just one small detail here: I still don't know the reason for the surveillance, the source of the surveillance, or even the face of my likely adversary.

As I examine the city, I become more and more convinced that the superimposed field was set up a long time ago, maybe even decades ago, if not hundreds of years ago. It has been regularly updated, kept up to date, and used for all sorts of little things, but the field hasn't found anything for a very long time. Whoever was watching the observation point reminded me of a sleepy supermarket guard, who looked at the monitor only once in a while and played on his computer secretly the rest of the time. The main thing here is not to alarm the patient, or the complexity of the mission will increase by an order of magnitude.

Pouring more Dreams into the mirror, practically turning it into the purest reflection of the world, which no longer has any real embodiment but is only an intangible concept, I begin to distinguish more and more details. For example, I see that the observer himself is not in the city. There are practically no major forces there at all, just a few groups of rumor-gatherers and guards handing in two sets of reports.

The signal itself goes deep into the forest on the north side of the city, lost in the depths of the thicket, and it was hard to find anything hidden there, even with my boost from Soaring in the Dreams and the use of the mirror. Instead of searching for obscure things, I chose to make better use of the time by slowly checking on the inhabitants of the city and the surrounding area. I was able to see the people of the city, and I was able to see what was going on in the city and what was going on around the city. I was able to see a lot of unnecessary information junk, but there was also a lot of useful information.

For example, to find out all those who snitched about all the strange things they encountered. There were a lot of snitches in the city in general, for they were given a little money for useful information. True, when one looked at this network of spies, especially when one looked at it this way, one got the same feeling that this work was too routine. It was as if, despite all the reassurance, no one was expecting a really serious accident, for the prevention of which they had been put here.

Once I understood the basics, I began searching for what was hidden in the woods. It's a good thing that my brain was quick enough - without knowing the exact coordinates, I could have spent a couple of weeks shaking the woods in search of a reliably hidden location. Here we need to act differently, for example, through the same spies and informers - they must know who they work for and to whom they need to carry reports. Practice showed that I'm not the only one so smart - they did not know that just got a binding amulet and a list of topics about which to collect any information. Suspicious groups of travelers, stopping in the city for some reason, by the way, were on that list, and in the top half of that list.

When I realized that none of the state people knew where their bosses sat, I began to sift through the city with a fine sieve, feeling a growing tension and the energy of the Dream filling the room more and more intensely. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the subtle chime of Sky's energy, shielding Losius and company from the side effects of my abilities. That's good, so I don't have to worry about hurting anyone by accident.

It took me a while, but my struggles bore fruit.

Glacio, a young hunter and gatherer, dragging his old mother and young sister out into the world at the same time, was a risk-taker, even if unwitting. With neither good equipment nor high skills, he hunted in the Northern Woods, from which the lovers of freebies regularly did not return. It was blamed on the beasts, heavy trails with lots of rocks, deadwood, and ravines, and, of course, on the ubiquitous monsters that were found nowhere around except in Northern Woods.

But if he didn't want his family to live in poverty and his sister to have to sell her body, all he had to do was take his chances and hope in Lady Luck. Strange as it may seem, he did get lucky. Largely because the guy had the brains not to go really deep, taking advantage of a lot of prey literally at the very edge of the dangerous forest. He made good money by selling the fruits of his hunt, and even collected a little for his sister's dowry, with his mother's approving and proud gaze.

The only thing he never told anyone was that there were no monsters in the Northern Woods, except for the most dangerous - the humans That story, which the hunter, sleeping (at this moment) as a peaceful baby, would tell no one, had happened two and a half years ago, imprinted on Glacio's memory forever, even if he would prefer to forget the nightmare.

It all began when a group of young hunters, led by the most implacable enemy and foe of a very straitlaced young man, began traveling with Glacio himself to the Northern Woods. Patrick was everything Glacio wanted to be, possessing a great deal of charisma and a love for oppressing all those who did not appreciate that charisma.

Glacio suffered from his attacks for quite a long time. It was because of the activities of this company that he had to move to the Northern Woods from the usual forests. They simply wouldn't let him hunt properly there, and he risked becoming an outlaw. Well, when they saw what profit is made by a pathetic low-level loner, who has not even got a class yet, hunting in an "as if dangerous" area, they immediately decided that they themselves were smart enough, and thus can make money and experience at all without straining.

Glacio deliberately went out later that day to give his enemies some distance, especially since they were going deep into the Northern Woods, not along the edge of it. After avoiding a few primitive and insulting traps, he moved a little away from the usual route and took a little to the side. It was there that he encountered a slashing boar, clearly not a low level, who had managed to move from mere beasts to full-fledged monsters.

The hunter's light arrows stuck in the layers of fat that served as armor, and the furious body forced Glacio to climb a small, steep rock next to the swift river. The boar was killed, but the hunter did not see the death itself - the agonizing beast had kicked the rock so hard that the hunter was thrown directly into the river.

He was as lucky as I had been, for he'd been able to grab onto a passing log, lingering on it, almost losing his only bow. The current carried him past rapids and small waterfalls, where, by some miracle, he didn't drown or break his neck in the whirlpool.

And then he saw it.

A castle, or rather a fortress, literally carved into a huge steep cliff.

The strangest thing he was willing to swear was that this castle, like the rock itself, was not there. Moreover, the structure manifested itself literally before his eyes as soon as Glacio crossed a certain boundary. And he also saw his foes, who had been roped up right on the riverbank and seemed to be preparing to be executed on the spot.

Harsh men, dressed in camouflage cloaks, armed with expensive (he, as an expert, could see perfectly well) combat bows and short blades, made an unforgettable impression on the young man. And then his comrades, who were not comrades, began to die quickly, quickly - one sharp and a quite painless stab with a dagger in the back of the neck and that was it. They didn't even realize at once that they were being killed, didn't have time to scream. Perhaps they were still hoping for something.

Patrick was the last to die, and he even managed to see Glacio floating by, holding on to a log. He was evidently about to shout - whether to call for help or to give the lad away before he died, but the gag prevented him from doing so at once, and the blow of the dagger extinguished the life and status of the hopeful jaeger.

Sad.

At that moment, Glacio's body was clearly guided by Fortune itself, because he shifted position in an instant. He took advantage of a second mistake by the medieval special forces, who lost the river from view for a few moments. If they had spotted him, they would have turned him into a hedgehog; even Glacio, let alone the mysterious assassins, could not have cared less about the distance.

Abruptly and almost silently he dove into the water, hiding his body under a snag, right in its shadow. When the professional gaze of the royal jaeger (Glacio did not recognize this uniform, but I remembered from Hans's stories) slid across the water surface, he did not notice the intruder, walking along the river and back again.

Then there was the long rafting trip down the river, nearly ending in frostbite and pneumonia, followed by a terrible week of feverish delirium and nightmares, followed by nearly a month spent on a huge detour along the Northern Woods to get back to civilization. Back home, where he had already been buried and mourned, he returned as a level thirteenth, possessed of an unusual class and with a sack full of booty, including a couple of very expensive herbs and roots. Enough for a new bow, new clothes, and even a drink with which to commemorate his enemies.

Uncomfortable questions could not be avoided. But luck was with him again, as were his brains, and so by keeping silence with some and lying to others, he managed to get them to leave him alone. He had no nightmares, no ghost of Patrick, and no images of his sycophants. Only a strange uneasiness lurked somewhere in the back of his mind as he watched the rock and its hollowed-out fortress slowly dissolve into thin air.

For the next day and a half, I searched my nose bloody for other witnesses and eyewitnesses, having suffered an epic fail. No, there were still a few people who knew or guessed, that there were outposts of Royal Rangers deep in the thicket, capable of shooting anyone who strayed carelessly into the territory they were entrusted with.

There were several witnesses of units entering and leaving Nothern Woods on dark nights. They were driven by black stagecoaches, whose drivers never used lanterns or lamps, but drove with such speed that the dust rose in spite of the darkness. The caravans of such stagecoaches never showed up during the day, and any questions about these strange carriages were answered with an unpleasant conversation with the guards, at best. In other cases, those interested simply disappeared.

The inhabitants of Whitewater were law-abiding and not very curious, so they preferred not to touch anything that did them no harm unless they touched it themselves. Don't ask for a virgin sacrifice? That's great!

Trying to find the hidden castle from Glacio's memories was not very successful, though here I was rather hesitant to force my way through the veil of concealment. If they noticed the interest, it might end up being more unpleasant than a simple headache.

I came out of my room tired, angry, and sleep-deprived, and then I stuck my head in a barrel of ice-cold water and stared for a long time at the morning sky, where dawn was just rising.

It was at that moment that I realized that this mission would not be easy.

"Your room is cleared, though I didn't believe such a thing was possible, I admit," Losius reports tiredly, reaching for the fried chicken legs while grabbing a bowl of excellent apple cider. "When you first came out of there, the door there looked like a breach into another dimension, I swear to Sky!"

That's right, that's right.

Soaring in the Dreams had turned my cubbyhole into a real lake of purple and lilac mist, stretching its tentacle-like ribbons beyond the room. I had to go back and literally push the accumulated dream into the mirror that was still lying on the floor, which was slowly turning into a real break into unreality. The rest of the energy I managed to collect and extinguish on my own, without the use of the mirror, and then I gave an order to Losius to blot out everything there by Sky.

Even though his power isn't as effective against the Dream as against the Shadow, it still has some effect, and with my full support, the anomalous zone has no chance. Though if I decided to use what I'd accumulated for a powerful strike on the area, I'd have a good chance of driving a hundred or two standard guards mad if they were around. And if I put in a good amount of my own, I'd be able to get more of them. I know it wouldn't be very effective against stronger units, but I know that against a lot of weaker ones, Dream unstoppable - they'll kill themselves before they get to my position. And you thought it was a non-combat class., Kostiл.

Yeah.

Units.

Alas, here, instead of digital dummies there are living people, and I am uncomfortable with the idea that very soon I will have to deal with such people. It is one thing to slaughter brigands, slave traders, and other scum, but simple servicemen honestly following orders - that's a completely different story. However, I would have no objection to the killing of those sonderkommandos who are engaged in mopping up anyone who gets too close to the mysterious castle.

Just as long as I don't get beaten up myself.

"They are very tough guys." The unaccustomedly serious Hans lectures, not even thinking of touching a jug of cider. "They're as ruthless as dogs, but they're also well-trained. We've only seen a few of them from afar, and never in action, but we've had to clean up their messes, and I'll tell you this: Royal Rangers, whether they be Snake Eyes or Soft Paws, are not just a bunch of drunken fighters. They are aces, capable of working under any conditions. And trying to dislodge them from prearranged positions is a dead giveaway."

The only one among us who has served in the King's forces, who knows who we will be up against. Not at all consoling us with his speeches, clearly letting us know that it won't be yesterday's peasants who are going to ruin our lives. It's not that we didn't realize it ourselves, but we would have liked to! Could I have had any luck at all in this regard?

"They can't be below level twenty, and a squad leader has to be level twenty-five, otherwise they don't give him a fucking job. Even three units working with bows on an advancing line of rank and file infantry might just roll up two or three hundred warriors if there wasn't someone of comparable class among them." He continued his briefing. "Our second-in-command swore that he had seen such a massacre with his own eyes, and you could believe him-he wasn't a tongue-twister."

"What do you expect from these wonderful men?" Relaxed and sleepy, after having fun with the farmer's molested daughter, Taria asks. "Except for their fucking awesomeness."

"Don't be a prick." The father's sharp slap served to reinforce the remark. "It's you I'm worried about. It's all right for Tin, but for you to catch a stray arrow is like a sneeze for me... What are we waiting for? Constant flickering on the edge of the field of vision and blind spot attacks. While one distracts, the others hit, you get distracted by the hitter, the one you distracted from hits. Pulling enemies apart, the bastards. The method of fighting - or be faster and smarter, or powerful barriers, strong line and area attacks, until you knock them out one by one."

"And how are they with close combat?" Here Losius, as an expert in close combat, wonders. "How much do they avoid it? And do they avoid it?"

"I don't know, I haven't been told these details, but if you remember that almost all of these bastards are firing classes, they're not very good at cutting up close. I think you could gut a couple or three of them without breaking a sweat if you caught them on a maneuver, or if you cornered them. Just don't get your ass shot by the arrows of their partners, or it'll hurt to sit down."

This time the apples are no longer thrown at Taria, but at the laughing Hans, which somewhat interrupts the usual business-like tone of the passing briefing. Despite the regular banter, the general mood remains completely serious, and the readiness for the battle is absolute. I sincerely do not wish to drag my men into the Woods, especially given the number of possible opponents. Yes, it is not easy to maintain a large force away from all possible witnesses, but the very presence of a full-fledged fortress convinces me that I will not have to deal with a small elite unit, but rather with the same elite, but much larger.

However, first, you have to find this unit before you get beaten up by it.

"Do you understand everything, Janelle, dear?" With a honeyed voice, Taria asks the girl in her arms.

Black curly hair, slightly dark skin, a fine figure with all the right shapes, a sharp-nosed and pretty face, and a completely lost look, as if she is trying to remember a long-forgotten dream, but can not do it.

"Yes, mistress!" With a slightly slurred tongue, she answered. "Three times a day... thinking of your feet... touching myself..."

I just shook my head in response, trying not to judge other people's passions. I liked watching Evangelion, my boss was a fan of Comedy Club, and half of my female classmates watched their own women's shows and broadcasts. Everyone has their own weird tastes, and those who don't, are just lucky enough to hide them. I'm sure there are plenty of people who are completely convinced that love of hypnosis and a hardcore foot-licking fetish is way better than watching a story about giant Mecha and a whiner.

"Taria, damn you!" Interrupting an intimate moment. "Can't you fucking walk to your room?"

"She is so funny shy, if I make her cum in front of everyone, that I just don't have the strength to hold back." My attempts at common sense are ignored, as usual, with a cheerful, cocky smirk. "Especially since she likes it. I asked!"

"You know, Taria, I might tell you a big secret, but if you've almost driven her to the state of a vegetable by a constant stream of pleasure, she'll say more than that." At the same time with my words, I reach for the top kitchen shelf, where now there are jugs of cider, for I deserve to savor some alcohol today since I can not get drunk anyway because of the perks of the alchemy class. "I'm not offering you, because you're already a good one."

"Yes, yes, I'm very good!" The bastard nodded vigorously. "I'm the best! And you're also wrong. Janelle enjoys what I do with her and I don't drive her crazy at all. It's just that someone here likes to come suddenly while cleaning."

I remember seeing this same maid stop abruptly and leaned her arms against the wall a couple of times today. I even thought to see if she was sick, so I could whip up some medicine. And the clairvoyance, the bastard, did not indicate a single hint of the true cause of the unlucky (or, conversely, lucky) maid's sudden "indisposition"!

Instead of commenting, I just make a facepalm, almost without dropping my precious burden. It's useless to prove the unwholesomeness of her judgment, especially since she's not so wrong - my clairvoyance, apparently as an apology, confirmed that the maid really does get high not just because she's ordered to enjoy the situation. It's not certain that she would as easily have agreed to this kind of entertainment without Taria's prior treatment, but there's a good chance she would have.

Or there are enough perverts in this world.

Or maybe Taria is incredibly lucky in terms of finding these perverts.

I don't know... Should I be jealous of her?

"Would you like to keep us company?" My companion asks in a suspiciously creepy way. "Let's go upstairs and the two of us can explain to you how much we like this kind of game. What do you say?"

"It didn't sound seductive, it sounded ominous." I nodded with the look of a seasoned old man, dodging the apple that had been thrown at me.

Seriously, there are apples all over the place in this house! Recently there has been an extremely bountiful harvest and there is simply nowhere to put them anymore. I wasn't even lazy enough to use shadow silhouettes to haul the huge number of baskets to the barn so I wouldn't have to listen to the shouts and hustles of the head farmer who was afraid of losing the crop.

" Seriously, though, I'm a little confused." I continued the interrupted phrase while taking a bite of the fruit I caught. "Or rather, I understand that, due to the specifics of the skill applied to you, your desires are very obvious."

"Okay." She interrupts me abruptly, waving her hands in the air in front of my face. "Slow down a little. Janelle, go to bed, get some rest. You go to bed, and then you cum and go to sleep, okay?"

The maid only smiled and walked away in silence, only giggling when her "mistress" palm slapped her buttock. If my perception is correct, it was the left one.

"Tin. You." At this point, she was clearly choosing her words, but I didn't risk interrupting her, because she looked so combative right now. "So, you. You're cool, you're dangerous, and sometimes you're smart, too. But you act like a fool. Just understand, Tin, to fuck you in the ass with my boots so that it gets to your brain that you've already managed to do more for me than any other bastard in this world has ever done. I got class, I left Kraj, I saw the world, while in good company and by no means on the rights of some pet. I live what I want and fuck whoever I want. I'm alive now. I'm really alive now, not like before. I have people I can turn my back on and not expect a poke with a knife. It was all because of some strange citizen I'd decided to stab once before."

With every word she said, she was coming right at me, so I involuntarily stepped back, and gradually put my back against the wall. It was not that I was so afraid of Taria, but she looked like I was going to talk to my neighbor, who turned on his hammer drill at about six in the morning on a Sunday. Anyway, screw her, and I'm scared!

Perhaps anyone who would do for me even a hundredth of what you did would have every right to bend me over the table and not care what I think. For some reason, you think that all my desires are a consequence of submission. No, it wasn't. And even if they were, I have enough brains left in my head to know that it wasn't by submission alone that you bought me, far from it.

I stay silent.

Taria stays silent.

Through two walls the voluptuous moaning of a maid who has carried out the order given to her can be heard.

"I feel like the heroine of a tabloid show about big love." She grumbles a little embarrassed. "Just still missing... No, it's all there. The noble knight, the mysterious cloaked figure, the evil witch doctor, and the great mission. I just never even thought that shit could happen in earnest. And you're that, sorry for the breakdown, okay. You just piss me off with your correctness when you don't need it at all. Not for you, not for me."

I peel myself off the wall and scratch the back of my head in puzzlement. According to the canons of many dramas and date-sims, it would be good for me to hold her close to me, kiss her, and declare my love for her, but I have a feeling that our "conversation" killed any desire for intimacy, not only for me, but for Taria as well. No, if I "bent her over the table" now, she wouldn't mind at all, but it wouldn't be right.

Fuck.

Should I start the thread in the style of "there is one chan". /////Such threads began to appear around 2008, shortly before the demise of the old 2ch, and were the typical whining of the incel about how hard it was for him to get sex (mostly either because of his not particularly good looks, because of poverty or just his own indecision, which made him communicate only on image boards).

Altho-o-o-ough.

For example, if I create a shared dream for all the inhabitants of Whitewater, then simulate this dream in the form of that very image board, then put a subconscious understanding of the rules of the Internet into the minds of the sleepers, and then run the resulting simulation, I can get a pretty passable likeness of my cozy boards. Warm and lamplight, like the sound of a vinyl record.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tube_sound

"I think you're thinking about some bullshit right now, Tin." My companion is showing a suspiciously high index of intuition.

"There is such a thing." I lowered my head guiltily. "In fact, I should call Losius and Hans, because I do have an outline of the plan. And then we'll talk about the topic you raised."

"I'll bet you plan to go into the middle of hell alone again, isn't it?" Taria grinned slyly and unreasonably, clearly hinting at something bad.

"Look, did you say something about bent and fuck?" I asked, giving my face the most serious expression of an inquisitor interrogating a witch. "If you keep pissing me off..."

"Can I get a complete list of things that piss you off? Well, so that I know exactly how to get, I mean, avoid the horrible punishment?"

I walked silently into the Shadow to drag the men who were playing cards (where did they get them?) to the council, careful not to hear the laughter behind me. I am the dreaded Shadow, the harbinger of doom. They do not laugh at me, but yell in holy horror, which means I just imagined it. That's right!

"So your plan is to stick your ass in the flames again, and then act according to the circumstances?" Losius waited for my nod before continuing. "Is it just me, or have we heard it all before?"

Taria is choking on something, making a horrible choking swan sound, reminiscent (but only reminiscent!) of a laugh that she can hardly contain. I save my companion and tap her on the back so she doesn't foolishly choke, and then I get a grateful (not outraged) look.

"Exactly." I'll confirm that right away. "It's a great plan."

"I do not wish to doubt your qualities as a leader, Tin, but can you answer us all a simple question: why is he great?" Still politely and gently, as if holding back a swearing, the nobleman asks.

"It always worked before." And then, when I realize that he's going to snap, I get serious. "And now, since everyone has joked about my abilities as a tactician, I suggest that you listen to the reasons why I chose this particular plan."

If anyone had wanted to say anything after looking at my somewhat angry face, they were holding back their desires, so to speak, until a better time.

"In fact, I'm the best infilatrator in the group, and it's no ordinary bandits and not even the seasoned slavecatchers who confront us. The same elite fighters that you have become in the course of our adventures await us there, the only difference being that there are far more of them than there are of you. If you think your leader is going to go in alone to storm that obscure Fortress Hidden in the Leaves, you think ill of me. I'm not an idiot! Well, not that much. Ideally, I'm going to leave this place without engaging a single enemy combatant at all. Come in, pull information out of other people's dreams, and then crawl away just as quietly."

One second to sip some water and regain my breath, while assessing the pensive faces of my companions, and then I continue, trying very sincerely to make my point.

"I appreciate your impulse and desire to help, but for now you have nothing to do there. And I really, really want to keep it that way. But. If. It so happens that we have to storm this fortification, I promise you that I will not leave you aside. Is that all right with you?"

I set off without fanfare or sound bells and whistles, largely because my comrades all knew my stealth capabilities, which meant they did not doubt that I could at least retreat without too much trouble, even if, by some miracle, my enemies noticed me. And they wouldn't because a great master at stealth multiplied by the stealth enhancement from my class and the Shadow Aegis made me an Elusive Fantasy Joe. It wasn't goodbye, it was more like saying goodbye to a man who was going to work than anything else. True, some people couldn't say goodbye without pathos, but that's not the point.

"When you come back, I'm going to lock you in my room and not get off until I get back at you for all the days I've had to spend in the company of my fingers," Taria whispered in my ear while the goodbye hug lasted.

"You know, in those very tabloid shows, such a phrase from a beautiful lady, even if it was said in different words, was usually followed by the hasty and sad death of a handsome prince! I should probably fear for my life, shouldn't I?"

"So that's the prince, and that's you. Even if a dragon eats you, you'll either choke on it or chew your way out of its belly. In fact, I'm glad you don't deny my intentions, so go ahead and don't stay there too long."

I silently drifted off into the shadowy step, starting to move quickly in the direction of the Chascha, genuinely surprised that I could feel myself smiling contentedly even in shadowy form. Whether it was the motivation from Taria or just the nice weather, the mood was great and cloudless, like a summer day. It even seemed to me that the colors that had been muted by the contracts were a little brighter and richer.

It wasn't about the promise of hot sex at all, no matter how it seemed otherwise.

It's just that I suddenly remembered that we are still human beings.

And it would be better for all of us to smile and live while we can.

Authors note:

13.5 sheets.

The dices roll out quite well, as in the case of summoning - there is almost a crit and a very successful application of Breath of Magic. In general, when working with summoning, this is a very useful skill.

Got lucky in finding the witness, as well as with roll for intuition - noticed something wrong, decided to settle on the farm.

Not bad with the mirror, though it's a long way from raising the skill.

Well, and Taria.

Plus on morale and an increased likelihood that he will fuck her on his return.

That's it.

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/534915

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP