Готовый перевод Общий файл / Does Force Bind to Responsibility?: Глава 13

Chapter 13

The large troll, nearly two feet tall, spat and backed into a thick tree. The other, smaller trees, he'd just blown down on his way here. He was fleeing.

Trolls don't keep track of time, they don't have a fixed calendar. There is day and night, winter and summer. The last summer had been very good, nourishing. His search for food after winter led him to the outskirts of the great forest, and here he came across tribes of men. The weak and deaf-mute humans were very easy to hunt. When he was hungry, he could literally catch one or two in a couple of days. Of course, the humans quickly realized there was a hunter, and even tried to hunt him down and kill him. The troll then did a good job of replenishing his meat supply, some of it even rotten. The humans became afraid of him.

He became bolder and even stopped camouflaging his lair. On the contrary, he began to decorate his surroundings with bones. Wolves, humans, and even bears began to avoid his lair. There were no strong beasts so far from the heart of the forest, and the others recognized him as the strongest. So it was for the whole summer.

When that human female in black showed up, he was surprised at the insolence and a little relieved. The prey had come on its own. He crawled out of the den to meet her and tried to drag her into the depths, and then realized that now he was the prey himself. The female grabbed his finger and easily broke his entire hand with a single tug. She would have torn it off if the troll hadn't given in at the last moment. So he just slammed his head against the wall.

There was no place for resentment or disappointment in his worldview. He very easily accepted the fact that someone stronger had appeared and made him his own prey. It was a given that the strong would devour the weak. The troll had long been strong and ate the weak. Now someone stronger has come along and will eat him. If he catches up, of course.

She caught up. It had been a long chase, starting at sunrise, and now it was a hot afternoon. The troll was quite adept at ambush and stealthy travel through the woods and knew the local swamps and ravines well. At first, he even thought he could get away with it, the stalker disappearing from his perception now and then.

Alas. For this insanely strong female, it was a game. She amused herself by making him work hard in this pursuit. Giving him hope that he was about to get away from her. It was all in vain. When the troll realized that trickery would not work, he tried to just go deep into the woods. That's where this female could find a more interesting target.

It didn't work. Now the troll realized it for good. There was no point in running, no point in surrendering without a fight. The broken arm was healed, and he took hold of his club. It was a good club, made of the bone of some unknown beast whose remains the troll had found a long time ago. It had served him well for years. Sturdy, heavy. And useless.

The wait was short. Soon there was the rustling of metal and the sound of footsteps, and then a human female appeared. She was dressed in black, from neck to toe, with black hair flowing down her armored shoulders. At a leisurely pace through the clearing she'd left behind, she approached the troll.

He already knew the price of this slowness. With a short growl, he swung his club warningly, sweeping away the surviving undergrowth. He swung it once, didn't have time for a second. The second swing was too easy, and with it, the pain pierced his arms. The club continued to move, and the troll's hands along with it.

A female voice was heard, from behind him. A deep, soft, very scary voice.

"You don't want to play anymore?"

The troll turned with his whole body, trying to nail her to the tree, and was unsuccessful. His thick knuckles thudded into the trunk of the tree giant, and sharp pain and nasty weakness spread over his stomach. He looked down. The hard belly was ripped open and its guts were already spilling out. A new flash of pain pierced his back. His legs became abruptly false, and the troll fell.

"It's a shame to kill you like this."

Sharp pain in the neck, and the whole body became strange.

"You understood right away, and you did everything right. I'd even respect you if you weren't such a wimp. It's true."

The pain in the neck was replaced by dull indifference, and his eyes went black. The troll's mind resisted for a few more moments and finally faded.

Draga deftly tossed the monster's head into the leather sack and tied the straps. She didn't even bother counting how many times she'd done this. Three or five, whatever. It was always the same anyway. Those who think they are powerful monsters are so self-confident that they don't even try to hide in any way. Bears, ogres, werewolves. The troll at least amused her a little with his attempts to escape.

Boring.

Of course, the Prophet warned that this would be the case. At first, at least. Still, she hoped she would find something to be proud of. In vain.

The town she was sent to was unpleasantly squalid. It was small, dirty, and smelled like an orcish cesspit. The weak and arrogant people who lived there complemented it like worms complement a lying corpse. A harmony of disgust. She would have loved to turn it into a black-flamed pit, but...

'You will become one of the adventurers, the local mercenaries. Perform their tasks, gain reputation and fame. The more fame you gain, the better. You will divert all attention to yourself. Unwanted ones included.'

She must become the best mercenary. The most famous and the most respected. She must be the most visible to the powers that be. The rest of the Prophet's agents and he himself will be unnoticeable against her background...

And if these 'powerful ones' turn out to be the enemy, it will be her who will have the honor to take their hit.

So, the eradication of this abominable shithole was postponed indefinitely. As much as it saddened her, the Prophet's will prevailed.

There were no significant problems in the Adventurers' Guild. Of course, the stranger was looked upon very obliquely. Especially since she could not write or read the local language. That was strange - there was no problem with speaking. But with writing, there were a number of inconsistencies. She could not understand the local scribbles, and the natives understood neither Latin, nor Cyrillic, nor Kanji.

She didn't really care. So she didn't understand what was written, so what? Let them explain in words where to go and who to kill. There was a hitch with the first time, the administrator tried to mumble something about her duty to understand what was going on. One slap, and the understanding was established. One mission, and the question simply never came up again.

There was another conflict. Her newly acquired colleagues had tried to point out her place. By that time she had learned to restrain her powers, and there were no fatalities. Some fractures and internal bruises, nothing serious. Strangely enough, the men held no grudge against her. Now, if she showed up at the guildhouse, she'd form an entourage. They're eager to learn how to fight from her and even offer her money to beat them half to death. And not just adventurers.

Well, there's a mutual benefit. At the same time, she learns not to kill or maim. It's not so easy, as it turns out...

Draga snapped her fingers. The shadows of the trees and ferns curved strangely and merged into one big patch at her feet. In a few moments, the simple shadow became a huge blob of impenetrable blackness. The blackness stirred and rippled, and a large stallion of the same color floated out of it as if it were on the edge of the spot.

Draga slapped the nightmare on the withers, jumped into the saddle, and hitched the bag to the saddle. She had to hurry, she didn't want to waste more than one day on one task. Sure, Nightmare wasn't the fastest mount, but it was the least strange to the natives. She should be considered human.

* * *

In the cozy office on the second floor of the E-Pespel Guild sat two persons. The Guildmaster was at a desk by a darkening window, and opposite, in a padded armchair, was a thin girl with blond hair tied in a ponytail.

Guildmaster of E-Pespel took a deep breath.

"Lady Tia..."

The girl with the cold eyes tilted her head to her side.

"Master Miran. We've already discussed it. If your new recruit is really that good. Then she doesn't belong in this hellhole."

They had been arguing for over an hour. Though it was rather difficult to call it arguing. Miran, of course, is the head of the guild branch, and formally has a higher status. But E-Pespel is a deep province. And Tia is a member of the adamantine-ranked team. One of the two strongest on the continent at the moment.

"Let me at least keep her for a month, please. There is literally an invasion of our outskirts from these damn woods. Not a day goes by without a clash with the greenskins. Every man counts."

"And how would you handle it if it wasn't for the occasional recruit?"

The elderly man grimaced and adjusted his monocle.

"As usual. But it's going to be very expensive. It's not even about the budget, although that too..."

"There will be losses of staff. They are much harder to replenish than the treasury. Talent is so rare..."

"Master Miran. Are you the head of a branch of the world's most reputable non-governmental organization, or a boarding house for noble ladies?" Tia asked harshly.

The question was rhetorical, they both understood that.

"The weak will fall. The strong will rise."

Miran answered irritably.

"And when they are raised, you will appear again and take them away, won't you?"

"Perhaps," came the cold reply. "It's not a question of my personal whim."

It was indeed so. Tia was doing her leader's bidding. Lakyus was aware of a lot of guild business that she didn't share with her fellow guild members. These orders could not technically be orders to the guild members. But the guild's top management always supported the guild's most prominent members. What today was a private request from Lakyus, tomorrow could be a direct order from the Head of the Guild. To oppose it is only to spoil relations.

Tia read the recruit's personnel file again, making it clear that the conversation was over.

If the rumors and the record are true, this is quite an interesting recruit. In fact, she was aware of several of them, coming literally out of nowhere, joining the guild at the same time. The rest were more like over-trained soldiers, albeit with good talents. Quickly joined the existing groups, greatly enhancing them, but that's all. What army these soldiers were from, remained to be seen, but for now, there was enough work for them, in which origin and political views did not matter.

E-Pespel was a very special case. An incredibly talented swordswoman, reportedly a religious fanatic, but one of the "quiet ones". She follows her faith without trying to attract other people to it. Suspiciously mobile, in a day of assignments whose purpose is far beyond a day's walk in one direction. Indifferent to the rank system, still walking around with an iron badge. And at the same time independently performs orders for experienced gold-ranked teams. Extremely confident.

It was very likely that the "upstart" was trying to be sent to her death by giving her a knowingly unreasonable order. Lucky sent Tia to see the recruit, and if it wasn't a fraud, to see to it that she was transferred to E-Rantel. Strong adventurers were much more needed in that frontier town, a stone's throw from the Tob Forest and the Katze Plains.

Well, if she is a scammer, then disclose the details of the scam and liquidate it. She would not be the first to try to earn fame and promotion in this way.

The usual hum of the reception hall changed slightly, and Tia Tia paid attention.

"Looks like your recruit is back, doesn't she? She was sent to hunt a troll, if I'm not mistaken. That was fast."

"Yes, Lady Tia," Miran nodded. "Should I invite her here?"

"There's no need for that. I'll come down."

"Whatever you say. Let me know if you need anything."

Tia nodded briefly and left the room. From the stairs to the first floor she could hear better what was going on in the hall. A subdued congratulations, an acknowledgment. That was definitely her target.

When she came down the stairs, she saw that woman. It was impossible not to notice such a woman.

A vicious beauty in exceptional armor, composed of craftily fitted plates. Her hair and armor are blacker than the darkest night, and she is politely dignified. Around her, at a respectful distance, are all the unoccupied adventurers of the city.

Tia appreciated the manner of her gait, her posture... Whether a cheater or not, she had beautiful movements. Smooth and graceful, yet precise and sparing.

Meanwhile, the woman, placing a large bag of something round on the receptionist's desk, brushed off the purse and, throwing something like "write it down in my name," went to one of the desks. Tia headed the same way.

She was recognized and given directions, and no wonder. Any adventurer knows an adamantine rank by name and face. Except for this new girl. When Tia sat down across from her, she raised an eyebrow with a silent question.

Tia noticed that the new girl was incredibly attractive. She was confused for a moment; she'd never seen beauty like that before.

'She could have been anyone. Any man would be at her feet at the wave of her hand. What made her become an adventurer?'

Someone dutifully placed plates of hot food, a jug, and a bowl in front of the new girl. She ignored the food, staring at Tia with a half-smile.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" the voice was appropriate.

"I apologize, I was rude. I'm used to being recognized as a member of my team at all times and in all places. I'm Tia, of the Blue Rose adamantine group. Your name is Draga, right? They also call you the Dark Maiden."

"That's it. What business do you have?"

Tia was slightly offended by this attitude even after she named herself.

"I want to test your power first. There are rumors about you, and I want to know how true they are."

Draga boredly waved it off, unsealing the jug.

"There's a whole line of people like you. Come tomorrow, early in the morning."

Tia began to feel angry at such disrespect, but tried not to show it.

"A queue, so... I'm sure they'd be happy to let me have it. Am I right in assuming that?" Tia turned around meaningfully.

The crowd respectfully backed away.

"As you can see, the queue issue is solved."

Draga tilted her head and set the jug aside.

"You won't let me have dinner in peace, will you?"

"Right."

They stared into each other's eyes for several moments. Tia tried to understand her interlocutor, to read her facial expression, the movements of her pupils and eyelids. It was in vain. A slight irritation and nothing more could be read on that beautiful face.

Finally, Draga hummed wearily.

"I usually beat the willing in the backyard. Let's go."

She stood up and walked calmly toward the back door. Tia began to boil over with such self-confidence; she wanted to put the insolent new girl in her place. She followed.

A crowd of spectators had already gathered in the backyard. Draga stood relaxed in the spotlight, with her head bowed to the side and her hand on the hilt of her sword.

It wasn't very convenient. Tia specialized in stealthy attacks and sneaky moves from the blind spot. Of course, she was an excellent swordsman in open combat too, but she still wanted to prove herself at her strongest side.

"Usually it goes like this. I get attacked and they try to hurt me. I fight back until I get bored, and then it's over."

"You are very self-confident, Mrs. Draga. Have you never met a strong opponent?"

With these words, Tia moved leisurely in a circle, keeping a close eye on her adversary's movements. Draga snorted contemptuously and waved her hand smoothly.

"It makes me sick. I keep hearing about the "strong opponent," but every time all I see is an arrogant worm with whom there is only one difficulty: not to kill by accident. Where does that come from in you, tell me?"

"I don't think I'm anything like the 'arrogant worms'?" Tia grumbled coldly, picking her moment to attack.

'She's a nasty recruit. Is there no authority for her? I'm no match for those you're used to, and I won't be coy with you. You asked for it...'

"Uh-oh, are you trying to talk me to death? I'm sorry for the time."

She hadn't finished the last word yet. And Tia attacked. With the utmost concentration, between inhaling and exhaling, Tia ducked and darted toward Draga. She aimed one dagger at her chest, more for a distraction. Clearly she could not penetrate that armor, but anyone would defend against a first attack. The second dagger was aimed at her groin. No armor protects the groin from below. And even if the blow was unsuccessful, it could be redirected to the inner thigh.

If the attack fails on all fronts - Tia hits her in the chin by head and breaks the distance.

And then Tia realized that Draga's bluster, while annoying, was justified. She just wasn't where she'd just been. Tia saw only a blurred movement to the side.

'Move so fast in armor? It's a bullshit!'

She abruptly interrupted the attack and slashed the air in front of her with her blades, while at the same time she jumped back.

Draga looked at her with a bored expression. Her hand remained on the hilt of the sword. It didn't look like she planned to use it.

Although you can expect anything from such a dexterous adversary.

Tia, reassessing Draga, moved around her again in a circle.

'It looks like I'll have to use the skills'

She was terribly reluctant to do that. Skills are the trump cards of any gifted fighter. They must not be known by others. Because one day you show your trump cards, and the next day there are countermeasures for them.

But it seems that without trumps this woman cannot be defeated. She will have to go to extremes. Adamant adventurer has no right to lose face.

As she continued her smooth stride, Tia used [heightened senses], [low acceleration], and personal technique - [deception]. This skill imposed an illusory effect on her that made her movements visible with a half-second delay. From the outside, she was seen where she was half a second ago. Such a discrepancy between visible and actual movement confused even the most experienced fighter, giving Tia a head start in any fight to the death.

She wasn't going to let the new girl go without a good whipping. Even at the cost of revealing her secret tricks.

[dash]

[step through the shadows]

And here in front of her is the armored back of her opponent. A double dagger lunge into her sides and... No resistance. Draga's silhouette melted away like smoke, and then Tia felt herself being yanked off the ground by the scruff of her neck.She twisted like a cat, aiming her daggers where Draga's face should have been, but she was too slow. Draga grabbed her by the collar from behind and just tossed her against the fence like she weighed nothing.

Tia reached the obstacle with her legs already assembled and immediately pushed off, making another dash toward her target. The silhouette was clear in her mind, no thoughts other than the need to kill or maim and finish it off.

She did not have time to understand what happened. Later, when she analyzed the fight, she realized that Draga had simply poked her in the solar plexus with the hilt of her sword. Now she just felt shocked and complete paralysis. The armor hidden beneath her clothes didn't help much, the cramping across her body hinted at broken ribs. Lying on the ground and trying to breathe, she saw the lath boots in front of her face. Draga squatted in front of her and stared into her face for some time with an unreadable expression.

"You really are stronger than the others. Like an ant is stronger than a mosquito. Well, get some rest."

She patted Tia on the shoulder and headed off to the guild building.

The spectators, who had been silent since Tia's first attack, began to whisper.

"Damn, I totally don't realize what's going on."
"Tia's fast as hell, but our Maiden read her ahead, did you see her?"
"Yeah, they're both like lightning, I can't keep track."

One of the adventurers came up to her and held out his hand. Tia waved it away irritably. She hated to realize that her defeat had so many eyewitnesses. Her breathing was almost back to normal, and she stood up and slowly stretched. Her bones were intact, after all, and that was a good thing. There was a respectful murmur around her. It seemed that the new girl's victims didn't usually get off so easily.

Lucky will definitely appreciate the information. And she should rethink her own outlook on life.

Draga was at the same table, drinking wine from a bowl. Tia approached the table and bowed.

"I apologize for that. You are a real master, I was wrong about you. I have come to make you an offer on behalf of my team. It is in the interest of the guild, and in yours as well."

"Hmm?" Draga wondered.

"Your undoubted talent as a warrior is wasted here. I suggest you change departments and move to E-Rantel."

"And why would I want to do that?" Draga stretched out melodiously.

"Whatever you're trying to accomplish as an adventurer, you'll get more at E-Rantel than you do here."

"Yeah?" Draga leaned lazily back in her chair and spread her arms. "What makes you think that?"

"E-Rantel is three times the size of E-Pespel. It borders the cursed lands and the great forest. Believe me, it needs strong adventurers much more. And it will offer much more to a skilled craftsman like you."

"I'll think about it."

Draga didn't want to make such a decision without asking the Prophet. Though she certainly wanted to be there. After all, the Prophet himself was on his way to this E-Rantel.

Draga heard his voice every day, in the morning and in the evening. And now would be an opportunity to see him. Everything else paled in the face of such an opportunity.

* * *

Three days had passed since the battle, and everyone's impressions had already settled. Monsters are monsters, but the main task still had to be accomplished. Find and neutralize the necromancer. Bryce went out that night, muttering that he couldn't sleep, to explore the local cemetery. He returned in the morning, brooding and frowning, and reported that the cemetery did show signs of desecration. Someone had been digging in the graves, not with their bare hands, but with tools. And after digging the graves back up.

So the spontaneous rise of the undead was out of the question. Especially so powerful. It was unclear at all where it came from.

Era renewed vigor to investigate the pens and inkpot used by the guest of the manor, and she got some results. She found that they had indeed been used by a strong but inexperienced dark wizard. Such a sorcerer would hardly be able to raise such strong undead.

Daimon helped clean up the aftermath of the fight. The funeral of the only casualty was quietly arranged without the adventurers' involvement, and they had nothing against it. Except that Taler volunteered to say a last prayer. No one objected, especially after what had happened.

He looked a little dejected, after he realized that there was nothing more that could be done for the dead man. There was practically nothing left of the poor man's head, and no amount of healing could have helped. Era marveled to herself - before and during the fight he was calm and even somehow relaxed, intervening only once with his spell. Afterward, he was confused and visibly despondent, looking at the deceased man. It was strange.

He turned out to have a rather interesting face. Now it didn't fall out of my mind when her gaze slid off it. It was perfectly regular and symmetrical, and at first it seemed juvenile. And if you look closely, you can see subtle wrinkles near the lips and eyes, the calm, soft facial expressions also did not suit such a young man. Sometimes there were moments when he seemed not just mature, but even old.

And most importantly, Taler stopped giving her such unwanted attention. No negativity, just burned out and cooled down. He didn't stare while he thought she wasn't looking. Didn't look like he wanted to say anything when he was next to her. Nothing like that happened anymore.

And that was good.

The next morning they went in search of the sorcerer's potential lair. She was able to use the imprint of the power that she had obtained to make an amulet. It was supposed to react when they approached the person who possessed the power. Not a compass, of course, but it was a lot better to know there was a dark warlock within a few miles of you than not to. Especially when you're about to kill him.

The search seemed to take a long time. The lands of the nobleman who had hired them were not small at all, and only a small portion of them had been explored. The cultivated land and clearings ended about ten miles from the estate, and then the wilderness began. Not as wild as the Tob Forest, but it had its share of hard-to-reach places and ravines.

They walked around the explored land in the first twenty-four hours and found nothing suspicious. No sign of a campsite or camp. This meant that either the sorcerer had long since fled to another region, or... or he'd found a shelter on the cursed plains.

That wouldn't be so good.

In the evening, the adventurers combed the surroundings of the last farmstead and again found nothing. The cemetery at the farmstead itself was untouched, and its inhabitants had no complaints about nightmares or disappearances.

Now they were camped halfway to the estate.

"And I was so hoping I wouldn't have to go to the damn plains," Bryce exhaled, leaning back on the grass.

"There's a silver lining," Daimon replied thoughtfully, chewing on a herb. All his attention was absorbed by the way Era was stirring the fragrant brew in the cauldron over the fire.

"What is it?" Bryce asked sneeringly.

"Well, for example, the plains don't have ground fleas that always get under your jacket."

Bryce waved it off lazily.

"It's better than the undead. Honestly, there's been a lot of them in the last two trips. I want to finally kill someone warm and alive."

"The last time this "alive and warm", he cut you up like a fish," Daimon grunted uncertainly.

"Next time I'll cut him up. He doesn't have an arm anymore. And now we have Taler, too. You're going to do that thing again, aren't you?" Bryce looked back at Taler, who was sitting next to him.

Taler grinned at the corners of his mouth.

"I think something can be done."

"You see, leader, we have the power with us. You see, Leader, we have the power with us. Let's take on some bandits, huh?"

"We could. They are so well paid, after all. And it's so easy to prove that you killed a bandit, not a common traveler. And it's easy to catch them. It's a fairy tale, not a job."

"Oh, you're doing it again. Let me dream."

Talik was used to this kind of talk. Bryce was always whining and complaining, Daimon was playing along, turning the subject upside down, and Era was making it clear that she thought they were both idiots. Now he was included in their company, too.

In general, he liked it. These guys never got discouraged and relied on each other for everything. Usually such close-knit companies are not open to outsiders. But he was able to gain their respect. He was both pleased to feel that he had new friends and hard at heart. After all, he was cheating on them, no matter how much.

It was his fault they had to fight the undead. Not that he had much choice, though. If he didn't direct the monsters toward the manor, they could have attacked a less defensible settlement. Remembering how easily a monster had killed a guard, Talik had a good idea of what a whole pack of them could do to common folk.

Still, he could have ordered Spy to kill them on the approach. The guard wouldn't have died, the boys wouldn't have had to risk their lives. The fact that he didn't know it would turn out this way was a weak excuse. It was no consolation.

From his point of view, the battle was somehow sluggish and slow. Talik mixed the perception of Daimon and the others as living people with a familiar playful attitude. All their movements in battle seemed somehow deliberate, slow, like a theatrical production. These guys were no match even for the rank-and-file guards of "his" city. For a moment, he even began to see what was happening as really just a highly detailed game. It was hard to regain his grasp of reality.

These are living, real people. You can't treat them like game characters. It's unfair and dishonest. They deserve respect. He's the one who got unreal power for free. There's nothing to wonder about.

And along with great power came a huge pain in the ass. Thank you, Alien Space Bats.

One way or another, he would have to go back to his town. This little adventure, more like an escapism, could not go on forever. He had figured out almost everything he wanted, and he understood what ordinary life in this world was like. It was now possible to surmise the further relationship between the world and Dawn City.

Of course, with politics and trade relations, it is obviously not that simple. But with a general understanding of how the world lives in this world, it won't be very hard to figure it out. Especially knowing Earth's history.

Of course, there is magic here, and that changes a lot of things. A lot of things, but humans remain human...

What stressed him the most was the impending loneliness. He was here, if not forever, then at least for a very long time. There are no other players here, no one to share his real thoughts with. No one to open up and speak honestly.

Pretending to be someone else for the rest of my life. Not much of a price to pay for what I got, really. But it's still a little sad.

And even if other players show up here, it doesn't mean that he will make friends with them. Rather the opposite. Can his contemporaries, unconstrained by morality and law, be trusted?

No. Both local history and basic common sense say otherwise.

This reflection led him to an interesting thought.

I can find those who came here before. You guys are dead, but that's not a problem for me right now.

Why? Oh, he has a lot to ask them. At the very least, what killed them.

Resolved. I'll dig around in local libraries, I'm sure there will be clues as to where to look.

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP