Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 15

Chapter 15

After nearly twenty-four hours of sweet, dreamless sleep, the road back felt like a flight of wings. Part of it was really flying because I regularly switched to the shadow form when I didn't want to have to deal with obstacles. Before I flew back to the farmhouse that our company had occupied, I'd rather fly around it and look around, just in case I saw something nasty. Fortunately, no one seemed to have stormed the place during my absence, so everything remained unchanged except the apples. The harvest was already finished, though no one was in a hurry to process the fruit into cider and liqueurs.

I stepped out of the shadowstep inside the walls, causing a passing maid to shriek softly and almost drop a pile of washed sheets, which she was purposefully carrying somewhere. However, the subcortical directives left there by Taria had calmed her down quickly, forcing her to greet my appearance with a calm and polite smile.

"Does the master want something?"

To be honest, I wanted to respond with the typical for Earth forums "show me your tits," but, first of all, she would not understand the joke, and secondly, she would do as she was told, still smiling politely. I don't mind that much, but I still remember Taria's promise not to get off of me until I was satisfied. Of course, a hot bath seemed like a much more pleasant experience for me right now, but I'm all for that later. And, come to think of it, so do I during my bath time.

"Water. Hot. Lots of it." After a pause, I give out, still refusing the tempting scenario. "To my chambers."

Still smiling politely and placidly, the maid ducked past the slightly wrinkled me and followed her orders. The shadow actually helped me stay clean and not stink. But all the same, this much time without a normal bath was a bit much. And it's not so much the dirt that torments me as the banal fatigue, primarily moral. These days I have not only not relaxed, but I have also kept my ass cheeks so tight that they could cut a rail. The slightest error on my part would have caused, if not death, then certainly problems, and the constant readiness to fight and retreat, hanging at the back of my mind, was no more exhausting than the fight or retreat itself.

In short, I wanted to eat, sleep, and fuck a willing Taria, and there was an almost insensible barrier to be overcome that separated me from these actions. That is, to simply announce my return to the team. So that everyone would know that the commander was not wandering in unknown lands (read: shitholes), but was back to his native, as far as this temporary base can be native, shores. The more so that my comrades themselves, for sure, were already three times fed up with the continuous waiting, without the possibility of even going out or to the pub. The only thing left to do was to play dice and play cards and taste the ill-fated cider.

I expected a certain reaction to my appearance, preferably joyful, but the expression on Hans' and Losius' faces, both of whom were already quite tipsy, was a little off-putting. First, there was a storm of joy, then thoughtfulness, and then sincere sadness, sadness, and burning guilt, which immediately made me start to have bad suspicions in my heart. These suspicions immediately began to be confirmed when the boys did explain the reasons for their mental torment:

"Forgive us, Tin." The unbrushed Losius spoke, tugging awkwardly at the cuff of the sleeve of his crumpled shirt, not noticing how dirty (for the always-clean Losius!) his fingers were staining the embroidered fabric. "We couldn't keep her safe. I'm so sorry."

"I warned her! I told her! Don't do it, I told her! It's a mistake, I said!" Hans, whose cracked voice could barely contain his anguish and rage, echoed the nobleman. "But she would not listen to me ... So young, so foolish, eh ... foolish girl!"

A thousand possible scenarios of events that ended with the death of my partner ran through my head, and the thought that clichés should not be underestimated was beating in my head. What kind of an isekai would go on a dangerous mission, leaving alone a woman with whom he had just had a heart-to-heart talk and who had promised to sleep with him on his return! It's a fucking combo! And when you consider the rest of the coincidences with the standards of classic fantasy adventure novels, it's even a triple-f*cking combo! I couldn't say that I was overwhelmed with guilt and immense sadness, but the situation itself touched something deep within my callous soul.

And then my brain turned on, and I remembered that my clairvoyance insisted that Taria was quite alive and not even too ill. And the shadow sphere, to which I was so accustomed that at times I no longer noticed, also pointed out to me the location of the perfectly alive and moving girl who was now in her room. Only then did I realize that both of my companions were still talking:

"I told the silly girl that pie wasn't fresh anymore, but she knows better than anyone! She ate worse than that when she was hungry! And we're both just gluttonous woodpeckers who are wasting good food!"

I stared at both men, twitching my left eyelid at the same time, out of great sadness, and then they both started coughing and then laughing openly. And these are my faithful fucking companions, trolling their own leader and inspirer as if they were a couple of pathetic bitards!

"Fucking morons!" I nail them with a powerful argument and walk away in a halo of coolness and superiority over humans, elves, and other upright people.

I must have imagined because it couldn't be, that my answer went unheard as the two drunken degenerates continued to roar like two angry horses who ate two buckets of marijuana cones instead of hay and ate half a pound of amphetamine. But of course, it was just imagination.

Taria looked alive, full of hatred for the world, and a little barbaric. I mean, her color was barbaric, which was orcish, green, or rather, greenish. There were huge blue bags under her eyes, just like the ones I get when I overdo alchemy or am just really exhausted. The waste basin next to her and several jugs of water with which she was giving herself an impromptu gastric lavage completed the picture of food poisoning in a medieval setting.

Actually, if you are seriously poisoned, you can die of stupidity, especially if the source of the poisoning was stale meat, but here it was not so sad. The clairvoyance clearly stated that after a few more hours of suffering and the girl would recover. I don't even know what to think about it? Maybe someone had cursed me and my love life so that the only partner in my field of vision would be Ygra alone forever? I wouldn't be the least bit surprised even by such a f*cking thing, for it fits perfectly into the phantasmagoria that surrounds me.

"Are you going to laugh, too, like those two idiots?" The irritated victim of bad cuisine asks in a weak voice. "And by the way, welcome back, good to see you. I would have hugged you, but, as you can see, I'm a little mopey."

"I'm not going to laugh, although there are a few jokes on my tongue." I'm going into denial right away, pretending that I wasn't going to hit her with witty comments. "I just want to let you know that I actually have some of my medications in my room, and there are plenty of them that can help with food poisoning. And not just food poisoning, if you think about it."

"Goddamn it! Why didn't I think of that, I'm so stupid and naive! What a wretch!" Taria splayed her hands dramatically, clearly playing for the audience. "I wish all your jars were labeled so I could tell one from the other just by taste. But if I tasted like that for a long time, the stale beef would be the least of my problems."

I scratched the back of my head, understanding the rightness of the former bandit, and at the same time reminding myself to mark not only the complexes of enhancing and healing potions issued to associates but also the usual first aid kit, so as not to repeat this circus with the horses.

"So, do I need to make you some kind of mixture to make you feel better?" More of an assertion than a question.

"I told you I was glad to see you, didn't I?" Despite her unhealthy appearance, she still puts on an innocent, charming face. "Very, very happy!"

I hum and hide in a shadow step, going to my room, where with a quick search using the method of poke, the hope and swearing, I find at once a set of drugs that should help a lady in trouble.

"By the way!" I noticed after Taria had drunk two of the potions and chewed a little bit of the bitter pill. "You could have just drank the healing potion instead of waiting for me to show up, especially since I might have stayed longer."

Before my eyes, the fresh-faced beauty, whose appearance was quickly acquiring its usual smooth and predatory beauty, looks incredulously in my direction, as if she were looking at an amphibrach-speaking ram. Eventually, she chooses the right words from her point of view:

"Don't take me for a complete fool, Tin. I'm from the city of adventurers, after all! And more than once I've heard stories about how bad it can be after the medicinal stuff. It's just like what I've been going through, shitting and puking farther than you can see, except for the rash all over the body. Why are you laughing?"

And one young but promising Mystical Alchemist in my face was laughing, almost to tears. And no, the reason for my laughter was not because of the dose of cheerful drugs I took.

"What a comparison, Taria! That's flattering! As if I put in your first-aid kits the primitive rubbish, with which it is easier to kill the wounded than to pull out from the other world! Wake up, my dear, my compounds can already be sold by weight in gold, and those of them that go to you even for three times their weight together with the container that holds them!" Trying to pronounce the words through uncultured laughter makes my eyes go dark, but I just can not stop, apparently, from the nervous discharge after my adventures.

"B-but... But we all suffered after the thugs' camp, didn't we?" The girl desperately clings to her version of events. "You gave us that new stuff to make us feel better, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, because in addition to the passive regeneration potion, you had a whole bunch of other shit in you that allowed you to fight on equal terms with the veteran thugs. And alone, my formulas are almost harmless."

Further comments of the woman, who realized that she had tortured herself for nothing and endured all the symptoms of poisoning, and also the snide comments of her associates, whose help she first rejected arrogantly, and then did not ask for out of pride, I think I will not mention, because among them not only prepositions but even pauses between words could not be considered censorious.

"It's good to have you back, Tin." Glumly declared, sobered by the spray I'd made on the fly, Losius. "We were beginning to chew the walls with boredom. If we'd had a little more time, we might have done something bad that we would have regretted later."

The sullenness of the aristocrat was ensured not only by his sobriety, but also by the fact that my mixture took away the hangover not immediately, but with a slight delay in time. So the guys would not suffer from headaches and dryness for twenty-four hours, but they would have to suffer for a couple of hours. Although, I can't rule out the possibility that they really feel bad, and I'm not talking about their joke right now. It's a miracle they didn't get so drunk that they got really serious, with all the trouble that goes with it. I suppose it was my absence and the team's awareness that I was out there doing dangerous work and that all they had to do was sit around and wait for the results of my activities. In such an environment, even very hardened personalities could lose their nerve, and all three of my friends (even Taria, who had matured) are warriors and fighters, not professional secret agents and saboteurs.

So it's not just a stone in their garden, but in mine, too, and I'll get even more of it. I had behaved somewhat irresponsibly, as I now realize. I was too keen on the idea of revealing the veil of a dark secret that hid the Mechanism of the Summoning, and so I lost all sense of purpose when I set out to "adventuring". At least I hadn't lost my sense of caution. Otherwise, I could have gone straight to the attack, to show my courage and not worry about problems. The paranoia of the bastards in the fortress was a good thing if you look at it that way. All those defenses had managed to sober me up and take away my sense of false invulnerability. If the defenses had been weaker, I could have ignored the risks and gotten myself in so much trouble, I could have hanged myself.

"I fucking affirm. Your return, especially in one piece, is great news. But I still say your face was priceless!" Hans never betrays himself, managing to find a way to poke fun at everyone and everything, even when he's screwed up.

"Clowns." I'm going to tell you bluntly. "All three of you."

"And the Green Boobs?" The only lady among those present is indignant. "How could you forget her?"

"And she doesn't..." I was going to say "not trolling" here, but thinking back on all the episodes of our communication with her, I am beginning to doubt that fact, too, because she has a very sly face.

"Not fucking?" Pouring poison on the bandit, finishing my sentence for me.

"This, too." I don't fall for provocation. "Anyway, now that the greetings are over, I suggest we get down to business. Go to your rooms to your beds, and don't resist when I put you to sleep. We'll do the briefing and planning in Dream, or I won't have time for stories if I don't use that method. Only I will take a bath, and I advise you too - the hour is late."

"Well, at least it's not training again." The girl stood up with a doomed look from the table where the evening conversation was taking place. "I've had it up to here with your " imaginary" goblins, who for some reason fight in a way that some of the more experienced thugs can't. That's why they're always poking me in the liver with their iron, isn't it, Tin?"

"Because you don't cover it with a block, stupid!" Hans interjects. "If you've decided to use a dagger and crossbow as your primary weapon, then don't be lazy, okay?"

"Yes, daddy!" And then it came back to me. "Tin, let me take a bath with you, or these two will bring me to tears! I'll cry, I'll be offended, and I'll also stop eating!"

"You really ought to eat less food whose freshness is justifiably questionable.' She is already being teased by Losius, who convinces me that my pernicious influence of the network troll has already begun to infect even his pure and innocent soul, which makes me feel warmth of sincere pride in my heart.

"I think I'll consider your offer after the briefing, despite how tempting it is." I politely decline. "It is better to do it now, while my memory is fresh and you are still sober."

That last banter was good enough to earn me an overzealous halo of indifference from Losius and two simultaneous obscene gestures from Hans and Taria. Well, they're almost back to normal now, getting back into shape, so to speak.
* * *

"Holy shit! They're all fucked up and over the edge and further up their asses!!!?' If anyone was impressed by the spectacle of the positions prepared by the opponents, it was poor Hans.

No, of course, all those present except Ygra expressed their admiration, horror, and amazement. But it was the experienced pathfinder, who better than anyone else understood the amount of effort that went into creating the outer circle of defense, who was more dumbfounded than the others. I was the one who, because I was an isekai, was not well versed in the prices and values of local trade relations, but Hans was well aware that the cost of the work involved in creating the treasure I was demonstrating was just off the charts. To the extent that throwing gold bars at the attackers might have been a little cheaper. All right, I'd overreacted with the gold, but the silver would have been worth a try. I'm not so sure about that, though. The magical alarms alone, with their resources, amulets, or high-class specialists, cost an astronomical sum.

Losius, in response to Hans's approximate price tag, only shook his head in puzzlement. He said that for Melareth this kind of spending, on a regular and continuous basis, might be hard, if not impossible. Frankly, I was glad to hear that. I would have thought that if they could make such a mess out of a simple frontier human kingdom, it would be better to not even go deep into the continent. The clairvoyant psychic immediately broke me down, giving me the bare minimum of information, but it was relevant. As it turned out, the fucked Stone was not created without the participation of specialists from other states, and the subsidies for its maintenance were also allocated... but not as large as I would have liked. So I had to admit the unpleasant fact that most of the work was taken care of by the locals.

"It would be better if they spent that money on personal mansions and soirees." Somehow the aristocrat was offended, imagining the amount of taxes (including those supplied by his estate!) going in that direction.

As you might have guessed, I created one huge dreamscape in which I copied the entire enemy defenses with near-perfect accuracy, allowing my comrades-in-arms a decent view of the future battlefield. Naturally, I made the traps inactive, so as not to throw anyone careless out of the Dream. What's more, all those glowing lines, nets, and webs were nothing more than the usual color illumination, albeit rather complicated.

So, looking at the blue-tinged structure hiding beneath a layer of soil, almost indistinguishable to anyone who doesn't have high-class sensory abilities, you can instinctively sense and understand part of what I understood myself. That this structure is a magical trap based on the energy of water and cold, turning the one who touched it into frostbitten remains, as well as anyone else who happens to be near it. That it could be activated from a distance, at the request of one of the rangers who constantly monitored the movements of the enemy.

Dotted lines outlined the most popular patrol routes, a light illumination that gave away every tree trail and ropeway, and every single lie-in with a supply of arrows, alchemical grenades, and poisons was indicated by arrows hanging in the air, pointing directly at the equipped cache.

As a result, the forest landscape looked more like some kind of cyberpunk creepiness, with a bunch of holographic advertisements hanging in the air, rather than a peaceful and tranquil woodland. Well, not counting the prepared nasties, of course.

"What the hell is that?" Taria poked one of the traps with her finger to make it clear which one she'd singled out this time.

"Another mine, but of nature, I do not understand." I dismiss it as I continue to watch Hans, pointing out convenient positions on the illusory model of the nearest clearing that I had created. "Something to do with the Astral, I think. At the very least, the sensation is somewhat reminiscent of the spirits summoned by orcish shamans, albeit distantly. The effect is probably purely mental and magical, with no particular external manifestations, illuminations, or material effects. Once you enter, you die, or you go crazy, or something else bad."

The girl nodded and wandered further into the Dream, not bothering to touch the many alarms thread - we're just looking around, not practicing. On the other hand, Hans paid no attention to her, working hard on our plan of attack and looking for convenient approaches. The problem is that the competition took care of this matter immediately, having a much better base and training than the average rank-and-file border guard. All the most convenient places were either occupied or turned into a trap for those who ventured there. Those that remained were perfectly shot from several positions, albeit covered from the most basic directions. The pathfinder gave his hand to the fact that these "loopholes" were left on purpose so that the attackers under attack would hide there. Then they would be carefully carried with their feet forward(*) from a prearranged platform in a very unexpected place.

Ygra walked in circles through the glowing forest, too, working up an appetite for herself and a nervous tic for me. Strangely enough, I managed to explain to her that the glowing things were not toys, but dangerous traps. Ogre had encountered creatures capable of creating magical attacks before, and once even ran away in shame from some terribly vicious spider that could weave invisible magical nets that burned as badly as acid. She knew what I was doing, but it didn't make her any more serious.

While I explained, albeit very roughly, the degree of danger of the enemy and possible problems, I thought I would go gray. The funny thing is that she understood me, even though you must take her perception of reality into account.

What pissed me off more was that she wasn't scared at all. Well, not really, because we don't shake in terror, either. She took the seriousness and strength of her future adversaries for granted as if it were meant to be. No worries, no doubts, nothing at all! For her, the coming battle was just another hunt, and swamp ogres know how to hunt even those who outnumber them in strength. And she took me as her leader, which meant that my decision was a priori correct - I decided to attack, I knew we'd win. So far our mutual adventures only confirm her opinion, because victories and successful hunts were one after another, there was a lot of prey, and I even fed her goodies, which earned the title of almost celestial, even if you leave out the ring. I have this suspicion that even if, by some miracle, she were to fall into submission, she would simply not notice this fact!

"Okay, we've seen everything here, now let's go to the next Dream, I'll show you the interior of the fortress, and you'll understand the real meaning of the word f*cked up." I give the order, simultaneously picking up the whole company with a weightless and insensible rope, literally pulling them out of this dream to transfer them to another one, created beforehand, while they were looking around here.

"Okay, I admit it." Only the pathfinder said when even his impressive arsenal of scolding constructions came to an end. "It's still nice and cozy outside. But it's fucked up right here. How are you even gonna get in there, huh? It's gonna fucking kill you just like that! You can't get through it the normal way, there's not a single fucking gap!"

Still, my comrade is not used to working at our current level, which is, however, quite understandable. His class and level are undoubtedly very respectable, especially when combined with the existing titles, but Stone's defense, as well as the composition of the opponent, belong to a different level, not just the elite, but the real tops of their business.

Would a standard Hero be able to overcome all the obstacles here? I'm not at all sure, even though I can gauge the potential of our brethren. A "normal" legendary and two epic classes at my level would hardly be able to get close to the Stone unnoticed. If he has a class build honed to be invisible, he might be able to approach unnoticed, but I'm not so sure. And I'm not sure if he'll be able to leave quietly after that.

Just think about it!

I am the possessor of three mythical classes and couldn't even get inside the fortress! Or rather, in theory, I could do it, but I, first of all, did not take the risk, justifiably fearing a missed nuisance, and, secondly, I was not sure that I could get back out. A direct assault or successful abduction of the target was out of the question. At best I would have escaped by dropping poo when the alternative was death or capture. The locals would have been glad of such a gift!

On the part of my team, we are now trying to break into the Central Bank's defenses with a can opener and a shovel, which makes us feel that we are bound to fail. No, they believe in me and my cunning, but they no longer believe that they can do it themselves. Perhaps it was only pride that prevented them from admitting that they had been overzealous in demanding that I take them with me on my first raid.

"I'll model the interior rooms now. There's very little there, but at least look at what's available." I interrupt their self-discovery with another fascinating cartoon.

"I'm still pretty good at remembering, but didn't you say you didn't dare go inside?" The duelist clarified, looking thoughtfully at the strange magical construction that combines an alarm, a trap, and something else I don't quite understand.

"I looked through the summoned Shadow, nearly killing it in the process," I answered calmly, already creating a three-dimensional model of the fortress, without the need for a separate Dream. "I can't get everywhere I want to go, but at least I checked the insides. And the sensory systems too. I could foolishly crawl in,"

"Foolishly?" All three of them asked at the same time, clearly alluding to my penchant for suici... that is, to take unnecessarily risky ventures that could end in injury and death.

In response, I just silently point my finger at the first scheme and begin to tell my observations - they will still accuse me of excessive risk! As if I didn't know it myself!

We got out of the dreams I'd created pretty quickly. In real-time, hardly seven hours had passed. We had spent several days in the dreams, and we had successfully discussed and identified most of the traps. We even scribbled a rough plan for getting around these traps, but only a very rough one. All our plans were based on knocking some of the rangers out of their positions. To impose the game on them already inside their labyrinths of trails and logs, where they would not be able to properly use their favorite tactic of remote combat. Naturally, such a move on the part of the hypothetical invaders was foreseen by them, and therefore the rangers would have freedom of maneuver at all times, as well as a convenient position for firing directly at the areas captured by the saboteurs.

It's hard to work against pros who know their strengths and weaknesses very well. And, worst of all, they have the time and money to strengthen the former and compensate for the latter. Total superiority in levels could have helped, but alas, that was not the case. In Taria's case, the opposite was true. Potions could be the answer, and here I would not just have to make individual cocktails for them. No, gentlemen, I would have to literally pump my companions with the most powerful stimulants, so that even a low-level Dancer could fight on equal terms with a pumped-up warrior and win. And also to make sure that the taken crap does not kill or cripple those who took it with its kickback and subsequent poisoning.

For an ordinary alchemist, no matter how many times he was a great master, this task was almost impossible. For a Mystic Alchemist, there were other options, but even so, it would not be easy, if not impossible. At the very least, I would have to take reagents from somewhere, because the ones I have now are simply not enough for something like this - there is no sufficient sample, there is no necessary quantity, there is nothing, to be honest with you. Another question that will have to somehow solve - is whether to go into the woods for mushrooms or rob the local warehouses, at the risk of attracting attention to themselves by my actions.

So many questions that no one is rushing to answer to make my life easier.

The idea of a brainstorming session appeared by itself and was easily explained by the fact that I, despite my high skills and advanced abilities, at times missed little things that became critical later on. And in planning, I was not brilliant at all, nor was I particularly anti-talented.

My plan with the Ludolovs was very clear and sensible, but the comments of Hans, Losius, and even Taria were also helpful in pointing out a few of my mistakes, which were not difficult to correct before the critical moment arrived. So now we were sitting around the table, eating meat-laden food (We had enough of apples) and discussing what we could do.

"Look, Tin." Taria stretched out thoughtfully. "Do you even need to go in there? No, no! Listen to me! Suppose you want to steal some important turkey who knows a lot. Okay, that's understandable. But he's not the only one who knows. Why don't we go to Stavrosk and look for someone else? I'm sure that many people know about this mess with Heroes, and you can't hide a spear in a haystack, no matter how hard you try."

"I dare agree with these judgments." Losius immediately backs her up. "Yes, it's better not to try to kidnap the King, for Arial the Third is not much worse guarded. But one thing is certain: his guards are always prepared for such an attack. But to arrange for the disappearance of one of his own kind-at least one of the princes - we can at least try. They will no doubt look very hard, but we will not be the only ones. But if we attack Stone, we shall have a much narrower circle of suspects."

Hans is quiet for now, even though he agrees with much of what is being said. However, he understands that I should have thought about it, too, so he's waiting for me to respond. To tell the truth, I did think about it, only much later than the plan to kidnap him. I asked myself exactly the same question when I returned to our occupied farm.

Indeed! If my fellow soldiers are summoned by royal decree and in the presence of the monarch himself, then why shouldn't I steal someone who is present at these summonses and knows a lot about them? Not even a prince, but just someone of the nobility, or even their entourage. There must be many who are pulling a huge amount of secret information, willy-nilly knowing everything his lord knows, and maybe more.

And most importantly, the search will be really not for anonymous vigilantes, but for dangerous competitors and blood feuders, which people in power are always and everywhere has! The version with the fugitive Hero looking for information on Yoke would not be taken seriously without a couple of liters of liquor, and with it, too, probably. Naturally, such a path would be safer than my current plan.

"Alas, I must disagree with your words, my friends." I shake my head in the negative. "You see, the problem is... The people you suggest "asking around" don't know much more than we do. They may know the ways of the ritual of summoning and controlling summoned, and they may even know the ritual itself, or have some connection with the ritualists who know how to perform it, but that's not exactly what I want. I'm not going to summon a pretty Chosen One to kill my enemies for me and keep me happy on long winter evenings. I need to know the very structure of the summoning mechanism, how it was created, how it was modified much later, and how it can be broken back into its original form. This is it."

The silence was my answer, and the faces of my companions became very thoughtful. I wasn't entirely sure I was right myself. But my intuition, barely squeezing through the overlapping canopies, was screaming that I was right. Even though its cry was muffled by the multitude of flaps, my "hearing" was enough to distinguish the main syllables.

"What about coming back here later?" Taria suggests again. "Leave quietly, grow up a little on the same orcs in the Kraj, especially since there's a big incomplete set of adventurers, and then come back here with high levels and kick the freaks without sticking our heads under an ax?"

"Heh! You're so naive Taria." Losius even dropped his usual formal tone in response to the girl. "If raising levels were that easy, everyone around here would be flashing their fifties, or at least their forties! The higher you climb, the less experience you get for killing relatively weak opponents. Now I could go out alone against a relatively large group of greenhorns, or even a not-so-great tribe. It would be an uphill battle, but I have a chance of winning. They are, however, far fewer than the chances of falling in battle, but they are there. And I'm sure that if I get even one level in this fight, it will be a miracle of miracles. The higher it is, the harder it is. Right now you're the only one who can level up orcs relatively normally because I and Hans have outgrown barbarians. I'm not talking about Tin at all."

"As unfortunate as it may seem, Losius is right." I acknowledged. "That's not to say that waiting is bad or wrong, but if we all want to evolve together, we can't just hunt low-ranking monsters anymore. Even strong epic creatures are good enough for us now, but even on them, we won't be able to evolve fast enough. And we have to find one if we don't want to go deep into the wilderness and wait for them to find us. After all, then we ourselves would have nowhere to run to."

"And a squad cutting up fucking monsters like your pigs is going to be watched very fucking closely. And I don't fucking doubt that we can slaughter them." Hans comes in, chewing on another kale pie. "And if we don't cut them fast and often, we're back to the same shit we had with the orcs. There will be no experience, no levels, and no point in waiting."

"How about we do this hunt anonymously?" This is where I step in, interested in the topic. "How about coming quietly, stabbing another abomination, dismantling the corpse for parts, and quietly running away? It's a way to avoid showing our faces, gain experience, and not pay the tax on the bodies of monsters if they try to take it off us."

Yes, that's right, it's exactly like I said - if you kill a creature, you have to pay tax on it when you sell the ingredients you've taken from it. Not much, but all the free hunters who don't have Adventurer Guild tokens (which also pay this tax, albeit to a lesser extent) are really pissed off about this rip-off. While you are poaching alone or in a small group, it is still bearable - you can negotiate with the alchemists to get the calculation without the tax, especially if the alchemist himself needs the same reagents. Yes, and small groups quietly evade this fee, as well as all kinds of buyers of booty. But once you get certain credibility in the trade field, you immediately begin to get a lot of attention from the guards and the treasury.

As a result, it turns out that loners and small squads do not really notice this tax, as to sell the extraction for the full price is still necessary to manage, even if bypassing the levy. But all the competitors to the state monopoly on mining the "gifts of the frontier" are sharply placed in a stall, where they begin to be mowed down in every way. The money does not stop flowing, but it is no longer possible to jump higher without the visible patronage of the ruling elite.

The exception is all the same adventurers, and that is at the expense of the fact that they traditionally get their preferences for carrying out combat missions and raids. That's why they are allowed to conduct a certain amount of trade and have their laboratories and warehouses. But even if they cross the line, they'll get a noble reprimand from the taxmen, because there's no need to undermine the royal power here. But even the treasurers themselves, who risk pushing too hard, risk displeasing the Guild by raising the cost of hiring their men all at once. At best. At worst, they simply stop accepting missions until they apologize.

The army, of course, is a powerful force, and Melareth has its squads of monster-hunter, but to compete in this field with the Adventurers, who are honed in such matters, they succeed only at the expense of huge losses. And then the palace moneybags can only humbly beg forgiveness without waiting for their taxpayers to be devoured. Of course, every kingdom is eager to gain full control over the Adventurers. Somewhere they succeed, somewhere Guilds are abolished, but in most cases, if the state has many contacts with the frontier or just troubled territories, then having a Guild is banal more profitable than paying for a similar regiment out of their own pockets. At the same time, there is also a place where you can send all sorts of the rabble.

It's in the Kraj, as I've said many times before, the Guild is represented by a relatively normal lineup. In the shittiest areas, where the mortality rate is off the charts, they send those who don't feel sorry for them. In fact, such places are more related to the royal army, where the army men and the rare guild specialists act as overseers than to the Guild, but it's too complicated for someone who isn't a guild authority. I didn't have the strength, then the time, and now, far from the Kraj, the opportunity, to gather information from the dreams of such authorities.

"No, you're wrong, Tin." The ranger interrupted my thoughts. "I'm sorry, but you're the only one who can execute such a plan. Well, maybe with your tame giantess, too. We can't even move around without being seen by the whole squad, especially if we have to carry a bunch of monsters' guts with us. We'd get here by sneaking around, but you don't get to wander all over the Continent, let alone Melareth. They'll track us if they want to."

"And many will want to track us, I assure you." The duelist immediately acquiesces. "Because strange individuals who wish to remain anonymous but slaughter epic monsters will attract even more attention than mere elite monster hunters."

We argue for a few more minutes but in our minds, we all realize that the idea of coming back a little later can be buried right now. I mean, we can come back a little later, but either with a tail of personalities interested in our actions or without being pumped in the process. On the one hand, we can not care about the possible interest in our affairs, because we can easily drop all the tails and go through the woods, coming straight to the Whitewater.

But that's where the damned clairvoyance comes in, and not even my own. It's me and my few companions who can hide from most of the insiders of all kinds. The same cannot be said for those who would be looking for us. In theory, such a plume of attention can be reset or redirected, but I can't do that now or in the near future.

No, if I want to attack the Stone, I'd rather do it as an incomprehensible no-name that no one wants and no one is interested in. Sensing interest in a certain personality, especially when the personality itself is safely hidden, is a task for a really cool Seer. It's just that the specialists sitting in the Stone are among the cool ones, which makes me sad-sad.

Attacking now is a huge risk, unspeakable stupidity, and complete idiocy of an overconfident isekai who is so eager to get trouble on his ass.

Attack later - not possible at all, simply because if you do not sit on his ass all this time, pumping only alchemy, then strike inconspicuously no longer possible.

Now, let's say, how would that work?

Seers in the Stone are beginning to sense, for some reason, that there is a very noticeable focus of attention directed at them. Or rather, not even on them, but the territory under their control. It's as if someone is looking for trouble on their ass, taking an undue interest in the place. They activate their abilities, trying to pick out the reason for the interest, and the people who are interested themselves. And, suddenly, they get a whole string of unrelated individuals who don't give a shit about the fold, or any of its contents.

As they scratch their heads, the Seers begin to look for a point of contact and do not see it point-blank, for I am perfectly capable of hiding my presence. In fact, they see only the remnants of all these personalities' attention, which, come to think of it, is not directed at the fortress at all! Now the question is: what triggered the alarm? I don't think the locals are all such idiots that they aren't familiar with the skills and abilities that provide a counter to clairvoyance. And the phenomenon of the "comet's tail" is no doubt familiar to them as well.

We put two and two together and get a logical four. And we conclude that Stone was interested in someone who had previously piqued the interest of all the noticed personalities but remained hidden. Now we take a paper, write orders, and send people to find out what kind of brute has so infuriated the "tail" that he tied himself to the "comet" hiding from their search. Then we get a report on the strange monster hunters and start asking uncomfortable questions.

Cool, right?

That's why employees of all sorts of secret guards and other orders of sucksassine try to leave the least information, rumor, and memory about themselves. The bigger the wave you raise, the easier it is to trace the center of that wave, to find the stone that made the water run in circles. Hidden faces, complete silence, no living or dead witnesses - it helps, but still not completely. Those with skills similar to my out-of-existence are valued more than any other army corps - the ability to screw up an enemy (or even an ally) so that not a single jerk associates you with the problems you get is a truly invaluable skill.

Of course, things are not as sad as I just described. You might say that I have made the colors as dark as possible. Before you pull your hair out of your ass and go bury yourself in a cemetery, there are a few things to keep in mind that will calm the despair in the isekai heart.

First, there are hardly five places in all of Melareth where there is such a professional group of Seers and, most importantly, large-scale psychic enclosed fields, covering the entire surrounding area. If there were only visionaries or only a field, they would simply not be able to sense the "tail," for they are qualified to do so only in damp fantasies of their power.

Second, if I don't bring allies with me, I can hide even such an ephemeral trace, especially if I don't draw attention to myself, even when working as part of a group. We'll pass the same Losius off as the chief plotter, and let him get the glory and glorify House Asterium for all eternity. We don't even have to make up a legend. He accidentally got to the Wildlands because of an unstable portal, got levels, titles, and a powerful class, and then began to massively use this class to enrich himself and get the glory as soon as possible. But I'm still not sure I can pull off the kidnapping of the old mage if I don't have help from the outside. And who would help me if I had to go alone?

Third, if I worked my ass off, I could even try to unwind the trail left by clairvoyance, but that would require an enormous investment of time and effort, and it would also tie me up as much as possible, so I would not be a full-fledged combat unit. I won't even talk about redirecting, not even a great master would be enough, because you'd need a better one.

Fourth, I can't be at all sure that the people in the Stone can sense we're coming. Yes, in theory, their skills and class abilities allow for all of the above, but you have to be vigilant, wait for guests, and take advantage of their skills in time. Undoubted professionals are sitting in the fortress, but they do not expect an attack in any way, more reeling from their service life, albeit in good conscience than actually expecting to visit the sneaky saboteurs.

So what should I do now?

I decided not to cancel the attack, not because of any logical reasons, and not even because of my intuition, which, as if to spite me, was silent, leaving the choice to me personally. I decided to attack because somewhere deep down in my heart I understood a simple truth: if I refuse now, no one will make me go back to the main quest.

My disguise has evolved enough even to deceive the Hero's gaze by pretending to be a local. It would be a very good decision to start making dough with my crew, to get an adventurer's patent, to cling to the legend of an experienced fighter who escaped across the wilderness from his past masters and began a free life... And just live, damn it! With my powers it shouldn't be too hard to take out all sorts of little things, making a spectacular career. And then I could make a move and get a title - I mean a noble one - quietly playing Civilization, developing some distant barony into a full-fledged state.

Simple solution.

Correct one.

But fucking no mine.

I was already contracted for this job, back when I received my title of Anti-Hero, "contracted," if not even earlier, right when I was thrown under the Alurey sky, and there is no way back. There is really no one to stop me from "getting off the track," except for one person: myself. Silly, I suppose, but I'm not going to fight it, just enjoy it. And let those who are going to handle my activities fight it.

The only pity is that my comrades may not understand this approach, for they want to live as much as I do, and they have far fewer ways to survive. Should I really send them home? Or order an operation to draw the main attention to themselves? Just the same monster hunt, which they might as well do without my help?

My offer was listened to in silence, after which they all sat still for a few seconds. I was doing a reckless thing, though, and I was obliged to give all of them a chance to get off (except Ygra, but she didn't care). It's not even the recklessness itself, but the fact that it's not even necessary now. Because there are other options, maybe more complicated, but less dangerous. Yes, they followed me when we were drinking dwarven vodka together on the trading trail near Ostmark, but it is one thing to follow the owner of a heroic charisma, and quite another to follow him into the hell when they have already seen the hell and imagine all the difficulties associated with it. Especially if the leader himself understands that it is not necessary to go into battle now. Or rather, not absolutely necessary, but four-fifths necessary.

"Hmm!" Tarya said.

"I could not have conveyed my point of view better than this beautiful maiden did." He said, primly and emphatically polite and for the first time, he called Taria by some lofty epithet.

"Just like I said it myself!" Hans echoed her tirade, with his unaccustomedly serious voice and the gaze of an old soldier.

"You could have been a little more polite." I grumbled, wiping my face with a towel at the same time after the brown-eyed asshole had spat a jug of wine almost full in my face in response to my suggestion to "not take any unnecessary risks and split up"..

"What for?" Losius asked in amazement. "Since you have overheated your head enough to think that we would leave you alone with your war against the whole world just because you consider it your duty not to retreat now but to challenge the enemy, it was necessary to cool that head."

And I had already forgotten that this man knows how to stir with shit with only words no worse than a professional lawyer, only with the transition to the local specifics. Fucking aristocracy! For him, the concept of "I can not retreat because I must fight, even if it's stupid, irrational, and even suicidal in some places" is not a whim of Kostya the idiot, but almost an everyday occurrence - he had half his family killed in the last war with Sorz.

I looked at Hans, but there was no understanding in his eyes either, as if I had just said something stupid, and very offensive. That's how skinheads would look at a black homosexual Jew who walked into their meeting, pushed the Führer off the podium, and began to argue that goyim are subhuman and that the chosen race should be allowed to rule the world, allowing same-sex marriages everywhere and so on. That was not a good look.

And only Taria was smiling at the sight of me! She had a strange smile, though, which made my instincts tell me to keep my distance between us, and ideally to hide behind the men. Just in case. Just in case not only the wine, but the jug itself, might accidentally hit me. Thirty or forty times.

"Oh, stop it!" I can't stand the pause. "If you all don't give a shit about your lives so much that you're ready to go with me to the other world giggling merrily in rainbow fireworks, then fuck it. Just don't you dare accuse me of anything when you're at the reception in the hell."

I probably should have said something pompous right now. That I was now certain that we were going to win this fight, but I didn't say that, even to myself. The probability of failure was still critically high. Obscenely high. Not as high as when I'd gone to fight the creature from the Kraj but not much lower.

Except that somehow I felt surprisingly at ease. Despite the possible trouble, the coming weeks of incredibly boring training and other nonsense, not to mention the extremely low odds of our overall survival.

After all, there is a one in a billion chance nine times out of ten.

Authors note:

13 pages.

Dices went smoothly, a couple of crits was, but not for particularly important reasons.

MC relaxed and rolled seven on perception, so he did not immediately understand the point of Hans and Losius' joke.

They rolled out 97 on the successful joke, and there was also a plus for the inattention of MC, which caused the crit to come out. And yes, there was a comment that anticipated the joke almost verbatim from the moment MC left for the mission.

Taria had an unfortunate meal (one of many randomly generated minor mishaps), but severe consequences were avoided.

It also roll out 47 on the patience of the team, which made them drunk and almost caught the eyes of random passersby. Here, by the way, Kostik was right - they are warriors, not saboteurs who are used to being quiet. His mistake.

Talked about possible alternatives, including those guessed in the comments.

The alternative of kidnapping a different person did not work, because Kostya failed intuition roll.

But the idea of "wait a year or two" may well have changed the plot for the next two or three dozen chapters. But in MC worked the desire to get to the truth, and he also clearly felt that he might not want to go back to the interrupted quest.

That's the way it is. I had to divide the conversation-planning itself into two parts because the characters decided to discuss a lot of things. However, I didn't have to roll the dice for the next chapter, because I rolled them earlier. I can do it faster.

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP