Готовый перевод Общий файл / Does Force Bind to Responsibility?: Глава 21

Chapter 21

* * *
*Daimons group*

The road to E-Rantel took less time than one might have expected. There was absolutely nothing to remember along the way.

Daimon and his group decided not to stop at the settlements along the way. Bryce grumbled for appearance, but he knew without a doubt that the sooner they reached the Guild and relayed the information, the better.

The light show in the sky promised to change quite a few things in the Kingdom. And perhaps not only in the Kingdom. It was too great a phenomenon to be taken for granted. Era believed that the churchmen would inevitably see it as a sign of the end of the world. And so the Church would surely try to consolidate its position under the pretext of rallying in the face of the threat.

And no one will ignore one of the most influential political forces if it starts pulling the blanket over itself.

Era was also eager to talk to the Chief Sorcerer of the E-Rantel Guild. He was by no means the strongest of the wizards, but he had a great deal of experience and knowledge in all things magical. Even the legendary Paradin himself had tried to lure him to teach at the Imperial Academy.

There was pandemonium in front of the gates of E-Rantel. It was always crowded - merchants, suppliers, mercenaries, nobles, mercenaries of all stripes. Now it looked as if the city was under siege.

"It feels like all the villagers around here are rushing into town," Daimon said as he looked for a place in the queue.

"Do you think it's because of that light in the sky?" Bryce clarified.

"It seems that way. I don't see any other reason. Although I didn't think the scale of panic would be so great. Can you imagine what will happen when those who live farther away get here?"

"I think there would be less anxiety if it weren't on the Cursed Plains," Era stretched out thoughtfully. "It would be nice to get into town at least by evening..."

Her words were prophetic. The enormous number of people wanting to get into the town stretched into a chaotic queue for miles. There were occasional arguments, fights, and on one occasion even a stabbing. Only Daimon's brutal intervention saved the bloodshed by giving the troublemaker a showy beating.

By evening, it was clear that they simply would not get into the city in the general order. The people around them were angry - it turned out that no one thought of the fact that they might not get into town on the first day. Children cried, and enterprising carters offered overnight lodging in warm hay at exorbitant fees. Finally, word spread through the crowd that no more newcomers were allowed into the town. Indignation began to boil among the people.

"It's no good," Daimon said dryly.

There was a growing clamor everywhere. Next to their company, someone was speaking to the crowd about injustice, and it resonated with the hearts of the listeners.

Era glanced furtively at the firestarter and turned away. But the ringleader noticed her gaze.

"Why do you turn away, redhead? Or don't you think we're being treated unfairly? Maybe you're one of the ones who's sure to have a warm bed and a hearty lunch there, huh?"

The orator was clearly fired up by the feeling of the crowd behind him. He clearly needed a scapegoat.

"Why don't you take us there with you?"

Daimon walked up to the voicey man and smacked his forehead on the firestarter's nose with all his might. He fell unconscious, bleeding profusely all over the place.

"Shut your mouth." He looked sternly at the crowd, who didn't know what to do without a leader. "You want a riot? There is plenty of gallows in E-Rantel, enough for everyone."

"But they won't let us in..." A voice came from somewhere in the back rows.

"Whose problem is that? Go back to your homes."

He defiantly turned away and walked back to his friends. The crowd, deprived of its source of inspiration, began to disperse into separate clusters. Campfires began to appear by the side of the road, where weary people were gathering.

"It's bad," Bryce muttered, looking dejectedly toward such an unattainable gate.

The doors were already closed, and although the drawbridge was lowered, it was blocked by a dense line of guards with halberds.

"What do you suggest?" Daimon asked.

"Well... Nothing so far. But as a last resort, I can find costly methods."

"Legal?"

"Depends how you look at it," Bryce grimaced.

"Let's do it tomorrow if the situation doesn't change."

"Ok."

Era was already looking for a place to sleep. They had the tent, and it was just a matter of finding a place with a good view of the gate. Considering that almost the entire area around the road was already littered with tents and carts, it was not going to be an easy task. But she was up to it.

When they were already stationed next door to a company of silent thugs, scaring away the simple peasants by their mere appearance, Bryce raised his head and listened with interest.

"What is it," Daimon inquired.

"I don't know yet, but someone definitely has a chance to get into town today without bloodshed. Guys, let's pack our bags, we can't miss it."

Daimon and Era looked at each other but did as he said, and made their way to the road still full of people. They didn't have to wait long, and soon there was indignant shouting and disgruntled babble. Someone was walking through the crowd like through a reed. At first, Era was surprised at how quickly the angry shouts subsided, but then she realized what was going on. First came the stifling stench, and then its source was revealed.

Through the crowd walked a warrior in heavy armor, smeared with something dark. He was armed with a spear and a shield, which he easily pushed out of his way those who did not have time to get away. And slung over his shoulder was a mesh sling with two ogre heads dangling from it. Huge, ugly, fat faces with a hideous grins discouraged any desire to quarrel with whoever had apparently separated them from their bodies. And the adventurer's steel medallion rolled lazily over the scruffy blood on his chest plate.

From beneath the raised visor of his full helmet, she could see a ragged, frowning face with eyes red from lack of sleep. She was not even aware of the line of four men marching in the warrior's wake.

"Hey, brother in business!" Bryce came out in front of him, showing him the plate.

"What?" the warrior stared at him incredulously, not slowing down. Bryce had to back away to continue the conversation.

"I see nothing in the world is going to keep you from getting behind the gate tonight, is there? Let us keep you company."

The warrior looked back. One of the four companions following him, in chainmail, with a sword and also with a steel plate, nodded and said:

"It's okay, Wall. We're all in the same business."

"Whatever you say," Wall nodded.

Daimon and company joined the little column. Bryce immediately stuck to whoever gave the "permission".

"Is Wall your leader? I've never heard of him."

"No, he's only on his second mission with us," he replied. "We're pretty fucking lucky to have a fighter like that. I hope he stays with us longer. I'm the leader here. For now, at least. I'm Ginn."

"I'm Bryce, this is Daimon, our leader, this is Era."

He nodded toward the head of the ogre swinging on Wall's back.

"Was it hard?"

"No. I was surprised myself, we were on our way to fight goblins, and then the ogres came out. I thought that would be the end of us. Wall was hit so hard it would've stuck someone else upside the head in the ground. But he didn't give a damn. He poked ogres with his spear, pissing them off so much they wouldn't even turn their backs on him. Tim and Vales had hacked the goblins off, and I was skinning the ogres' knees. The easiest victory of my life."

"The five of you beating two ogres, that's a drinking theme, I'll make up for it."

"Deal. my friend."

Over the course of the conversation, the sprawling company reached the gate. The guards, seeing the approaching procession, stood at the ready, their halberds bristling. The men behind them watched with interest, and they could be heard arguing about how it would end.

Wall walked as he walked, completely unimpressed by the weapon pointed at him. One of the guards, judging by his stripes, a sergeant, shouted:

"Halt! There's no way into the city!"

"There is," Wall said grimly, still not slowing down. "I have two marks on my chest that prove it. A badge and a monster head. Out of my way."

The confidence in his voice, and the way he was moving straight toward the line of halberds, shook the guards' confidence - the soldiers began to glance at their commander. He evidently weighed what he valued more, a quiet shift or a fight with adventurers who were also in their own right, and waved his hand wearily:

"Pass."

The line parted, giving way. The adventurers, accompanied by angry, if not disgruntled, glances, made their way to the gate and into the city.

Inside the city walls, too, it was far from quite - a lot of people had managed to get to E-Rantel, and not everyone had a place in the inns and taverns. Dog barking, cursing, drunken shouting, and foul language from the numerous guards, who were extremely harsh and even violent in their repression of any disorder, spoiled Era's mood.

Thanks again to Wall, which frightened away every person they saw, they quickly made it to the Guild House. The square in front of it was relatively quiet and sparsely populated. Era had feared it would be like the marketplace, or the cathedral square - a lot of people, angry, hungry, waiting for something bad to happen. But a few thugs with brass plates at the entrance apparently discouraged any desire for outsiders to gather here. Ginn turned to Daimon's company:

"We're going to close the quest. We'll meet in the lower hall. Bryce promised a drink, remember?"

"Holy thing, how could I," Daimon smiled. "The way you got us in, I'll get you personally drunk."

"Oh, don't promise what you don't know," Ginn laughed. "It's impossible to get Wall drunk. He's invulnerable."

"Ginn," Wall stepped closer to the talkers. "How much longer do I have to carry this shit on my back?"

"Guys, we really have to go," Ginn said a quick goodbye and headed with his company toward the back door.

On entering the Guild Hall, Bryce casually remarked:

"You noticed that too, didn't you?"

"Yes," answered Era. "You mean the armor, like on those skeletons?"

"With the same insignia," Daimon nodded. "It's all the same."

"I've got a gut feeling there's going to be a very thick mess about this insignia," said Bryce thoughtfully. "Let's keep it out of the report for now."

The rest of them nodded silently.

* * *
*Talik*

In the evening, Talik sat on the bank of the ornamental pond in the courtyard of the palace, feeding the colorful carps. The graceful, lazy fish deftly picked up breadcrumbs tossed into the water, illuminating the pond with a whimsical game of iridescent colors.

Talik was in a rather heavy mood and wanted to be alone, but getting rid of Draga without upsetting her was impossible. She was standing behind him with a tray stacked with hot bread and glowing with pride at being helpful. Talik was determined to get her into bed again tonight, except that after Spy's resurrection, he had other things on his mind.

Marius's curses slowed mana and health regeneration so badly that even a simple resurrection would only have enough for the evening. Talik thought with muffled envy and irritation that perhaps he shouldn't have taken that perk for natural regeneration. By greatly speeding up passive resource regeneration, it rendered any kind of potions and elixirs practically useless. Spending them on himself was like pouring them out and waiting for the effects of the vapors.

+Drink a couple of big bottles in the morning, and you'd be as good as new. 2800 resurrector, 1500 bottle. And I'd be in a shitty mood all day, not just tonight. Yeah

Another batch of crumbs flew to the insatiable fish.

Resurrecting Spy went smoothly. In the back of his mind, Talik expected it wouldn't work. After all, he'd always considered himself a realist, and he was partly one even here. And Spy, when they put him on the altar in the temple, was starting to stink of a corpse with his throat cut open. And yet, it worked. And that was a good thing. Now there was the certainty that even if one of his "subordinates" was killed, it was not a verdict yet. Even with a noticeable loss in levels, he could bring them back to life.

But the news, which the stalker was not slow in giving, made Talik sad.

++Another player, Rogue. So, if we don't find a common language, he will be a guerrilla. Catching a rogue on the foreign territory... Yeah. And also, he's been here a long time, and judging by the phrase, "hoped that such meetings will not happen again," survived at least the past guests. What were they, demons, I think. Altogether, a grown man who's lived here for at least two hundred years. Who knows what he's picked up in that time, both in terms of attitude and in terms of gears. Theocrats, for example, have surprised me. And me, with the whole City, but without any real experience, how to run it all. And the NPCs just agree with any of my decision.

He stretched out on the bench and stared at the sky.

+Although, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he knows what kind of faggot nailed me like that. And if I'm lucky, they're enemies. He didn't seem to mind talking to me, checking the ground, to understanding who he was dealing with. The only thing is how to find him now... Although, there are options here.

[message]

"Marius, are you busy now?"

"I conduct a comparative analysis of images of power circles of the same type in different publications. Nothing so important that I could not interrupt for your instructions."

"Do you remember that guy, Lias? How's he doing?"

"He is progressing. Nothing worthy of attention yet, but if you compare it to when he arrived, he has progressed noticeably."

"I need him. It would be great if he could come to the palace..." Talik glanced at Draga. "In a couple of hours. And I thought you said you'd bury me in with your research."

"Given your current height, the stack of notes would reach up to your collarbones. It's going to take me a while before I can give you a proper burial. About six and a half days."

"No. Bring the most important thing you think is there. Tomorrow morning."

"As you wish."

Talik broke the connection and turned to Drega, once again assessing the "cosplay" option, and belatedly hesitated.

++Geez. I need a real secretary. Someone to remind me of such things. Okay, whatever, I'm not a character in Katsuba's favorite comic books, that kind of crap won't distract me.

* * *

"...Thus, the hero is a person who is not only the center of attention. It is also a person whose opinion is listened to, even by those who would like to get rid of him. A person who is aware of everything that will become of interest to him. An agent of influence. Understand?"

Talik, engrossed in his impromptu lecture, paced the echoing marble corridor.

He finally found an approach to Draga. Before, he had asked her. Now, he gave her the initiative - "as a reward for her faithful service," he graciously allowed her to ask the questions herself.

From there on, the conversation just sorted itself out. It wasn't even a conversation, but rather a monologue. In any case, it was at least something akin to feedback.

Carefully choosing his words, Talik shared with her plans to make contact with the "Head of the Guild " and a punitive raid into the cursed plains. Finally, Talik vaguely mentioned the bone dragon from his visions.

+How easy it is to make her hate anyone. Just a hint that this bad boy is hurting me, and she would die but tear him apart.

He managed to coax out of her the reason why she'd stayed by his side in Necropolis. She told him that she, too, had a problem with her "friend-or-foe" identification and that it had begun when he had almost fallen asleep on her horse. She could feel his "true lord aura" fading and then reappearing, flickering and weakening. And when, after passing through the portal, it disappeared altogether, Draga did not lose her head but decided that it was some kind of test. And now she was sure of it for good.

The two hours flew by very quickly. With some regret, Talik interrupted the conversation and got a message from Marius. Arcilich and his apprentice were already waiting in the palace.

As a place to meet with Lias, Talik chose one of the many palace chambers. Such facilities are used to provide an administrative bonus to the guild economy. Now they were mostly empty - the Lich officials didn't care where they worked, and their reception offices were set up directly in the city from day one. This trivially simplified access. And Wilhelm didn't want the townspeople to go to the palace as if it were their home on any occasion.

A moderately pompous office, with comfortable furniture - sturdy armchairs, a walnut table, massive patterned shelves for scrolls and books. Thick, soft carpets covered the floor. High, austere windows overlooked the inner circle of the palace - from here the enormity of the main temple was clearly visible.

From what Talik had seen of the world, he figured that such an environment was enough to keep his face in front of any of the locals.

And besides, there was plenty of paper and writing utensils.

+While this slacker is having a date in "jail," I can't even organize a meeting. It's good to have everything ready. But I'll have to work on my image because it's getting ridiculous. I am the ruler of everything and everyone, after all. High-quality pathos can save a lot of blood, Talik grudgingly remarked, sitting down at the table more comfortably. He wanted to put his feet up on it, but he resisted the temptation. Draga stood in the corner of the table, where she could intercept a possible attack.

[message]

"Marius, can you feel where I am? Bring him in."

"Indeed, Your Holiness."

"Don't come in yet, we'll talk later."

"Do you not wish a mortal to see the extent of my obedience to the :Lords?"

"Glad I don't have to explain."

The archlich's ingenuity was a little unsettling, but Talik had already seen how it could be exploited.

Half a minute later, the door opened and one of the guards at the entrance peered in.

"Your Holiness..."

"Let him in," the "prophet" waved his hand.

The guard disappeared, and Lias appeared. He looked very different from the last time I'd seen him. He was just an intimidated, battered, and unimportant boy.

And Lias, who had entered the office, looked confident, collected. He had lost a great deal of weight, and under his eyes were the dark spots that come from long stress or lack of sleep. He was also white to an unnatural whiteness - even his eyelashes and eyebrows were white.

And for some reason, Lias was wearing the robes of a younger novice. Talik felt slight displeasure at this fact. There was something of an encroachment on the personal. He could not quickly formulate for himself what it was that displeased him.

"Have a seat," Talik made an inviting gesture toward the chair in front of the table.

Lias, slouching and bowing, strolled over to the seat and sat down.

"You've changed since last time. The gray hair, is it from worry or something else? Because of Marius?"

"I cannot know, Your Holiness. Master Marius is very strict and demanding, but without a doubt the best mentor I could imagine. If that gray hair is his fault, I am the only one to blame."

"If studying is so stressful, it can be stopped. I foresaw that it would be difficult for you with Marius, but I didn't intend to wreck you."

Lias tensed up for a moment, then relaxed and lifted his head.

"Your Holiness, I would very much like to continue learning from Master Marius."

"He's not here, and he'll never know the content of this conversation unless you want him to. So answer honestly, do you really want to keep learning from him, and if so, why?"

Lias hesitated a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"Marius the teacher is extremely strict and sometimes punished me for lack of diligence, it's true. But I swear I deserved it. He never hurt me for no reason. He gave me more knowledge than I could get in a lifetime."

"So you were having trouble at first, but now you're generally okay with it, am I right?" Talik summed it up.

"So it is, Your Holiness," Lias bowed deeply.

"You say you've learned a lot, and from what Marius tells me, you're showing some promise. I'm glad to hear that, and I'd like to understand the difference between what you knew and could do before and what you have now. Can you explain it to me briefly, so that I, as an outsider, can understand it?"

Talik saw that with his words, Lias turned pale and covered in sweat.

///I could understand him, he obviously wasn't expecting the semblance of an exam. I used to think that being an examiner was cool. I don't feel that way. I'm sorry, kid. But I really need to know what I asked.

Lias, meanwhile, pulled himself together.

"Before I got here, I knew three spells, two rituals, and forty prayers. I had enough power to cast a spell five times, and after that, I could use one spell again in three hours. After a day's preparation, I could perform the ritual and then not be able to use magic for about ten days. With prayers, it was a matter of luck. I didn't know how to fight well, I was afraid."

Talik nodded. He would have loved to know more, especially about rituals and prayers, how they worked, and what effect they had. But asking about such things was likely to damage the image of a mysterious and omnipotent being. Not that it was critical, given the mistakes he had already made, and the ones he would still make. Still, it was worth questioning Marius first. The meticulous and pedantic undead probably already knew everything Talik wanted to know. And if he didn't, then he could sacrifice his image.

"Now I could use up to ten of my old spells in a row, and one more every ten minutes for two hours. It took me less than an hour to get ready for the ritual, and after that, I had enough power for a couple more spells. And I figured out how to control the power without spells."

"That's really interesting," Talik wondered. "I assume Marius knows about this?"

///Direct control of magic, the ability to do supernatural things without being tied to a pseudo-game system that does everything for you. It's like getting the source code. The ability to understand what and where it comes from, to discover the laws of physics of this world... How fortunate.

"Teacher Marius knows and helps me in every way to develop this gift. I learned it only because of him."

"That's very good. I thought you weren't happy with the situation, but if you're happy with it, let it go on as it is. I take it you're living at the temple now?"

" Э... No, Your Holiness, I... I am..."

"So?"

"It just so happens that I live in a guest house. Master Marius let me live in the city of the living and told Lady Rangeso to keep an eye on me, and she dragged me there and left me there, and the teacher let me stay there..."

++What the fuck are you talking about," Talik almost asked aloud. "Who the fuck is Lady Rangeso anyway? I'm supposed to know, but I can only assume it's one of the vampires of Necropolis. What the fuck, he could have been eaten! Not that there'd be anything left to resurrect. Well, I'll have to ask Marius that. Somehow he is very independent, in some ways, and that's good, but why did not agree? Okay, the situation is there, so all that's left to do is make the best of it. If you look at it that way, this kid's like a beta tester. One way or another, people from the outside will show up here, and we'll learn how to behave on Lias.

The boy himself was clearly neither dead nor alive. Talik could understand the confusion. For an ordinary man of this world, a guesthouse was clearly unaffordable. Talik remembered the estate of a middle-class aristocrat where he'd stayed with the adventurers.

"Do you like it there?"

"Yes, Your Holiness..."

"Then you can stay there. As compensation for being held here."

"Let them hold me all my life, I'll be only glad!"

"It will be seen. Do you have any other requests?"

"It's nothing, Your Holiness. The guards always look at me like wolves wherever I go. If I'm not with my teacher or Lady Rangeso, they stop and inspect me at every corner. Even those who saw me an hour ago."

"Hmm. Let's see what we can do. I'd also like to know where you got those clothes?"

"It was given to me by the Reverend Nitia, the prioress of the temple where I was employed as an altar boy. She told me that my old clothes were not suitable for visiting the Palace."

"You said Nitia..."

Talik couldn't remember the name at all. Temples were just infrastructure objects with general passive morale and health bonus. When they designed the infrastructure they stuck them everywhere they could, and they ended up with 177 of them, not counting chapels and small altars. Abbots came as part of the package, and names for them were out of the question, just a level 45 buff healer.

++Well, they're personalities now, too, with names and life histories. It will be interesting to know more about them. And that Nitia, whether to scold her off for giving the stuff to a stranger, or to praise her for her initiative, Lias is now formally part of her household.

Interesting precedent. And an important point came up because I am, like, the highest clergyman but I have never even spoken to the diocese. Plus the case for the piggy bank.

"Okay. Now, actually, to the main business. I need to write a letter to someone, and there's a little problem - I'm not very good at local writing. I can read it, but if I write it myself, there's a chance I'll make mistakes... That's why you have to take dictation."

Talik moved a gilded writing set to Lias. He hesitated, as if afraid of damaging the precious things, and laid them out.

"Dictate, Your Holiness."

* * *
*Jay-Gul*

The shadow slid silently between the two barrels, stepping a step closer to its prey. The moment was right - the breeze stirred the crown of the tree under which the carefree target was dozing.

Another light gust of wind - and the shadow moved on, to the log wall of the barn. It snuggled against the rough wood, merging with it, and listened.

The target snoozed carelessly, snorting lightly and moving its lips.

The shadow restrained itself from rushing toward the target at once, and, in the thrill of its forthcoming success. Step by step, seizing its moments, it moved from the wall to the pile of straw, from the straw to the apple tree, under the crown of which the victim swayed in a pitifully crackling hammock.

Climbing the knotty, sprawling tree without disturbing a twig was a matter of moments. And the moment of truth came. There was a battle cry:

"Aha!"

And the shadow swiftly swooped down on the belly, barely covered by a leaky linen shirt.

"Uhu." The target muttered in agreement.

The spectacular success was followed by an equally spectacular failure. The belly suddenly retracted and bulged out.

"Wee!" Annika squeaked as she flew into a heap of thorny straw. "That's not fair, you were peeking!"

"It hurts. You're sniffing so hard I'm almost deaf."

The haystack moved, revealing a disheveled and slightly out of breath girl.

"I'm not sniveling!"

"Yeah. I woke up to the fact that you weren't sniffling. And almost knocked the barrel over, too."

Annika climbed out of the stack, shook off the straw, and moved resolutely toward the orc lying in the hammock.

The orc was clearly a lot bulkier than I expected for the suspended bed stretched between the apple tree and the barn. But if the orc had a goal, he'd get it, one way or another. Even if it meant getting into a hammock a little bigger than his underwear.

Annika grasped the dangling, thick and knotty, acacia log-like arm with both of her own and pulled.

"What do you want?" there was a doomed grunt.

"Let's play."

"Let's play hide-and-seek, shall we?" There was a glimmer of hope in Jay-Gul's voice.

"No. You weren't even looking for me last time!"

"That's the point."

Let's go to play, pwease! Aren't you bored just lying around?"
https://youtu.be/5-xeRFy0wyc?t=315

"Nope. I'm on quiet time."

"Let's go!"

"You obnoxious monster, why are you clinging to me? Go harass someone else."

"Orcs are all busy, and adults too, grannies are boring and talk all sorts of nonsense."

"So ?;%: the other children."

"Moms won't let me near the little ones, and the others have boring games. Let's go!"

"I tired."

"You don't do anything all day, you just yell and kick everyone."

"This is the most important job of all."

The village headman, standing in the shade of the log cabins nearby, only sighed as he listened to the argument. Who could have known it would happen this way?

After the ultimatum that had been issued by the intruders, the arguments and scolding lasted all day and had not subsided even by nightfall. Under the roof of the common house, there was not enough space for the whole village, but there was certainly room for everyone whose opinion had any weight at all. Hunters, lumberjacks, the blacksmith, the medicine man, fat Liz, and the mothers of the families. There were several common points of view.

Some felt they had to leave. To the woods, or the plains, or the neighboring settlements. Anywhere was better than living under the monster rule, risking going into soup with the whole family every day.

Others, the younger ones, thought they should gather everyone they could and give the monsters a fight. They said that one Akuro was enough for a lifetime, and no one needed new "masters" here.

Others offered to surrender. The headman himself also thought that was the best way out, and for good reason. First, the monsters were speaking, and therefore sentient. The fact that they were sentient meant little in itself, and the headman understood that.

But there was a second. The monsters were obviously stronger than humans. So much so, in fact, that they wouldn't need to talk about anything if they wanted human meat or girls. They would have come and taken it. But here they are, making an offer, however crude. And they even pretend to let those who do not agree to go. And about the maidens, Akuro's prisoners, they haven't even touched.

And third. Orcs, wild-looking creatures, had steel weapons. Very good, and made precisely for orcish hands. The headman knew a little about how steel was made. Ordinary savages would never have made such a thing.

The headman had been beaten a lot by life, and experience had told him that if the strongest came to negotiate, you had to give in.

By late afternoon, when the discussion had subsided and boiled over several times, when several fights between particularly dissenting voices had died down, and when the women's hysterics had begun and subsided, he rose from his seat and walked leisurely, demonstratively, toward the exit.

"Where are you going, headman?" voices rang out.

"Go home to bed. It's late."

"Don't you care about the fate of our settlement anymore?!" the fat woman's voice rumbled.

The headman stopped, put his hands on his belt, and shook his head.

"Why, yes, I do care. I can't speak for everyone, but I know for myself that I will stay and surrender. Monsters? So be it. But think of the humans. How did Smokey get on our necks? How's Gutless? Akuro, may his soul go astray in the underworld? Monsters, unlike humans, made an offer and gave us a choice. And I made mine. And you can yell at each other till morning since my word means nothing to you."

The headman's timing and intonation were precise. After all, he had known all these people for a long time. And when the monsters came the next day, they opened the gates without a word.

There were more of them than the last time. They were as big as they looked, arms as thick as a man's leg, lumpy with muscles and scars, and they looked at people with detached contempt. They did not, however, cause the outrages that the headman feared.

The ringleader left some of his men on the gates and walls and told the headman to gather all who could walk on the patch outside the common house.

"Is everyone here?"

The monster's throat was tin-plated, everyone could hear it.

"You've surrendered. I'm in charge now, everything's mine now. Everyone must obey me. If you don't, the first time I'll give you a ";%, the second time I'll kill you. I'm Jay-Gul, the big man, the leader of this gang. Above me is Bun Ironhead, chief of my clan. Above him is Warboss. Above all is the Creator. You're all nobodies. Those who know something useful can become something. War, hunting, craft, that's what's at stake. When we're done here, I'll look to see what's here. Stocks, tools, children, everything. Then those who don't want to be mere peons let them come to me and tell me what they can do. We'll see what good it'll do."

"Except for me, you should all know him. This is the shaman. If you got sick, lice, wolf chewed off the leg, it's for him. With a gift, of course. He'll do even worse for it, and he'll be right. And then there's this elf. He will be responsible for everything that happens in the woods around, he knows all the roads. I've said it all. Now scatter to your burrows and wait."

Then the ringleader really went through every house and barn and thoroughly searched all the poor properties of the settlers. Surprisingly, there was no looting, though there was a fight.

Though it could hardly be called a fight. One of the villagers tried to trick the orc into hiding a box of dried meat. The orc quickly found what he had hidden and, without any ado, savagely beat the head of the family, in front of the whole family. And he said that the next smart guy like him would be disemboweled.

No one else would risk it, and hearing that orcs don't take what they find, the rest of the inhabitants even made it easier for the green-skinned, shoveling all the possessions out for show.

After the search, the ringleader left people alone for two hours. He was apparently waiting for those who could actually do something to come to him. There were no fools. Or rather, it turned out that the village was full of fools.

Toward noon, the orc ordered all the men to be herded outside the fence and forced them to clear the area around it. Some of the orcs headed toward the woods, and some stayed with the men. The men were pulling out the brush and prying up the boulders that the orcs had turned out. The holes from the boulders were backfilled and trampled.

No one gave people a break, and any attempts to even just slow down for a couple of minutes were severely suppressed by heavy cuffing and scolding. Conversations were suppressed no less harshly; one of the loggers was beaten nearly to death for trying to be idle.

Green big men who seemed not to tire at all. They scoffed at the people falling off their feet by the end of the day, when a muffled horn sounded from the village.

Hearing the horn, the orcs herded the men back into the village, onto the patch in front of the common house. Quiet curses toward the headman and whispers of despair did not cease for a moment. The ringleader came out of the common house to the crowd and glared at them for a long time, as if he wanted to see something hidden. No one could stand the stare; everyone was looking under their feet.

Finally, the ringleader spoke.

"It was only the first day. That's how peons live their whole lives. A peon can't do anything well. Whoever doesn't want to be a peon has to be able to. Is that clear?"

A determined voice was heard from the crowd.

"I know how to make hides!"

"That's good. What's the name?" The orc perked up, beckoning a finger at the caller.

The lad, squeezed out by the crowd, trembled before the overhanging orc.

"Bunch."

Orc nodded.

"Stood to the side. Who else?"

"I'm a good woodsman!"

"Good. What's your name?"

"Ches."

"To the side. "

The "I can do it" and "I am able to do it" cries came one after another. Almost everyone in the village knew how to cut wood or fish, work with hides, or search for honey from wild bees. And the orc made it abundantly clear what awaited the inept and lazy.

No one was sure whether it would be easier to do what they called themselves skilled at. But still, there was at least some chance.

Then there was the "feeding. It was humiliating, getting food as a mercy. But no one resented it.

In the morning, the ringleader assigned the men those tasks in which they said they were skilled. Under the supervision of the orcs, of course. And compared to the previous day, life began to get better. The woodcutters, for example, weren't required to do much, marking, chopping, and clearing trunks. The hardest work - chopping and stacking logs - was done by the greenhorns. And it wasn't out of piety for humans. It turned out that orcs, strong as bears and idiotically industrious, are not very good where brute force is not enough. And have a simple way of looking at things - everyone has to do what they can do well.

And if a man is good at marking where to cut, then let him do it. Where only strength is needed, the orcs can do it themselves. They picked up the basics of any new task very easily, and were very slow to learn anything more complicated.

Also, the ringleader found out on the second day that fat Liz could brew tough moonshine even from reeds, and this alone raised her authority to an immeasurable height compared to the rest of the people.

The fat one, a cunning and understanding woman, quickly made friends with the thin and baleful orcish shaman. They were just like each other in character, both of them very smart, both of them greedy and heartless extortionists, both of them keeping their secrets strictly to themselves. Some even chatted about the color of the kids next spring. Then they stopped - their tongues swelled up so much that they couldn't close their mouths. The shaman turned out to have an excellent hearing...

Within a few days, life had settled into a pattern. It made sense to clear the ground around the paling to make room for a new one. Although what the orcs were building could rather be called a full-fledged wall. Not very straight, but very strong. Thick logs were dug deeper than a man's height and reinforced with clay mixed with stones.

Then another shock came: the goblins came to the settlement. It wasn't that the villagers had a bad relationship with them - it was more of cold neutrality. The goblins didn't go where humans hunted, humans didn't go where goblins worked, and that was fine with everyone. Sometimes they even traded with goblins. The forest dwellers traded rare herbs, for which they had many uses, from preservation to banishing insects, for iron objects like knives and shovels, and grits. But trade was always conducted exclusively outside the walls, and goods, women, and children were always watched. And there was a reason for that.

Now the little savages entered the orc-occupied village as if it were their home. They came into sight, sent a messenger, and the orcs let them in quietly. Three dozen nosey and fangy short men led one, a particularly ugly one with a scorched gaunt pattern on his face. Almost all the men were outside the village, and the women were about to quit their jobs and try to hide in the houses. But the orcs didn't appreciate it and forced everyone back to business. The villagers' assurances that letting goblins into the house was a very bad idea were treated with irritated indifference.

The goblins brought with them many sacks, barrels, and crates of salt, steel nails, saws, hoes, and many other household items. Just brought them in and handed them over to the important frowning leader.

The goblins stayed in the settlement overnight, making the locals quite nervous. And the problem did happen. At night, a woman's screaming echoed through the village. Some of the forest runt fell for a local girl, dragged her into the bushes, and, receiving a serious rebuke, stabbed her.

As soon as the alarm was raised, the rapist was handled by his own men, and his belly ripped open on the spot. Jay-Gul arrived in less than a minute to find the goblins huddled together, surrounded by eager orcs. The goblin chieftain held out his rapist's head, and explained the situation in a nutshell. The orc grasped the goblin's ear firmly, lifted it into the air, and roared:

"You're their boss. You are responsible for them. Their mistake is your mistake."

The goblin only closed his eyes in agreement. Jay-Gul drew his knife, and in the balance cut off the ear by which he held the runt. The piece of flesh flopped down next to the fallen goblin.

"Eat!"

The little man silently put the severed ear into his mouth and chewed it. When the ear went to his stomach with a noisy gulp, the orc asked:

"What did you learn?"

The goblin glared at his troops.

"That the boss had mercy. Could have killed usall, his goods were touched. The boss is kind. I will remember."

"What else?"

"I'll be even better at watching who's underneath me."

Jay-Gul nodded and looked around at the crowd.

"What's going on? Let's go home now. There's a lot to do tomorrow."

The shaman healed the injured girl's wound without further ado - only a thin scar was left of the wide wound. The incident was over, and the goblins left in the morning.

After another couple of days, Jay-Gul gang grew noticeably.

Another gang of orcs, with their ringleader, came to the village, already almost completely enclosed by the new palisades. They brought with them large, vicious pigs and oxen, and in return, they took several bales of hides and linen, a dozen baskets of fish, and a barrel of sticky tree resin.

From the beginning, there was some tension between the two gangs. Those who could afford it hid. And for good reason.

The leader of the new gang, as big and stout as Jay-Gul, but trimmer than he was, slapped the boss on the belly at goodbye.

He clearly wanted to say something else, but did not have time - a ponderous fist of the ringleader of the village with a juicy rattle crashed into his face, throwing him back a few steps.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, snotlout?" Jay-Gul asked, making a broad gesture to stretch his shoulders.

"Oh, you !";% pig!" The other orc roared, shaking his head and spitting blood. "You rat, sitting on the edge here, grow up a fat! You're not even worthy to look at a warrior!"

With these words, the out-of-town ringleader pulled his axes from his belt.

Instantly both gangs gathered around. The orcs looked on unpleasantly but stayed out of the fight. The two leaders were surrounded by a ring, so there was a small live arena.

"Am I not worthy to look at a warrior? Are, are, where's the warrior? Are you the warrior, eh, brat?"

Saying this, Jay-Gul kneaded his fists. He didn't carry a weapon in the village, and he regretted it now. But he wasn't about to back down, either.

"I'll kill you!" The second orc roared, swung his ax, and rained it down on Jay-Gul.

But he was clearly counting on this course of events. With an amazing grace for such a heavy body, he jumped toward and away from the attacker. It didn't go very well - one of the blades grazed his face, so hard that for a brief moment the bone was visible. But on the whole, he achieved his goal, knocking the enemy down with his body. The orc did not falter and snapped his fangs into Jay-Gul's face. Before he knew it, Jay-Gul had dug a knife from its sheath on his back. The blade flashed rapidly several times, jabbing into the neck and ear.

Jay-Gul staggered to his feet, took the axes from the dead man, and kicked the motionless body. Then he turned his face, streaming with blood, toward the warriors.

"Well? Who else doubts my strength?! Don't be shy, girls. I'm strong enough for everyone."

Another orc came out of the circle, with a two-handed ax.

"Our boss seemed like a formidable warrior. And he was defeated by an unarmed fat man. Such a shame. I should have challenged him first. I'll have to kill you now."

Jay-Gul silently spread his arms out to his sides in an inviting gesture. The challenger exploded and leaped forward, swinging his ax. Jay-Gul threw an ax at his chest at the same moment.

The weapon was struck back immediately, at the cost of a moment's hesitation. Jay-Gul immediately took advantage of it, jumping up and dropping a second ax on the challenger's head with a jerk.

He reacted and jerked his head to the side. The blade didn't split the skull, but slid across it, removed a thick layer of fleshy skin, and stuck it in his shoulder.

The challenger roared and lunged, not even close to hitting Jay-Gul. Jay-Gul's fist smashed into his jaw, stripping him of his balance, while the ax wrenched from his shoulder and came down again. There was a crunch, and shards of bone with drops of brain and blood flew sideways.

The body fell softly to the ground. Jay-Gul dropped the other ax and turned the first one over in his hands with a hum.

"Will there be a third?"

After long moments of silence, another orc emerged from the circle.

"You called yourself Jay-Gul. I've heard of one Jay-Gul. That Jay-Gul went into battle under the Creator himself. And Warboss himself sent him on the first raid."

"Ha ha, the good old days, yes. And the good new ones. I'm that Jay-Gul."

Orc nodded.

"It would be an honor to die at the hands of such a warrior. They," the orc pointed to the corpses, "didn't realize it, but I see."

"You can die afterward, boyz. Come under me."

He shook his head.

"Rusty Hand said I would be chief under him someday. I swore an oath to him."

Jay-Gul nodded.

"And you can't go under Ironhead's boss now. That's a pity."

The challenger removed the twin axes from his belt loops and came up, stepping smoothly around the Jai-Gul. The latter, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head, watched the challenger's every move carefully.

Seeing that the challenger was giving him the initiative, Jay-Gul took a step toward him with a swing. It was a deceptive move, but the challenger didn't realize it. He tried to pull the same trick with the ax throw.

It didn't work. Jay-Gul was waiting for such an attempt, and he kicked the weapon away. The challenger neither dodged nor swung away from the falling two-handed ax. The first blow was the last.

"You wouldn't be a Boss," Jay-Gul said with a sigh, snatching the ax from the dead body. "Rusty Hand tricked you. Pity, though. An orc gets his brains a lot less often than his strength."

He stared hard at the others.

"Who else?"

The orcs silently drew their weapons, and one by one threw them at his feet. One of them did it later than the others, with obvious reluctance.

"Pick it up," Jay-Gul commanded.

"Whatever you say, "boss," he sniffed.

He stepped forward and picked up his weapon. Jay-Gul immediately swooped down on him, landing a heavy blow. He managed to evade the first one by knocking the ax aside, not the second.

"I don't want any rats!" barked Jay-Gul into the remnants of his face. "No one needs rats!"

Later other orc gangs came in. An average of every couple of days. And there were no such problems - though the tension was felt at times.

The orc, waving the clingy girl away, caught himself in a strange feeling. He told her to go away, but he didn't really want her to go away. He liked to bicker with the rebellious child. He liked being talked into it. He knew he would give in and they would play. And it was as if the child sensed it.

If anyone else had thought to interfere with his rest, the boss would have quickly dissuaded him from such foolishness.

Jay-Gul was about to grab the girl to tickle her and let her escape when he caught the change in the background noise. He turned his head, listened, and sighed.

All right, little girl, I'll be busy right now. Go take a walk.

The girl, who understood the changed mood, pouted, putting her hands behind her back.

"Go, I said. Go, go, Uncle Jay-Gul is about to do adult things. We'll play later."

Annika stopped sulking and ran away, and an elf appeared from around the corner of the house, accompanied by one of the boyz. The boyz was carrying a severely beaten man in one hand, bound tightly at the wrists and ankles. The mouth of the bruised and blue-faced face was gagged.

The elf was carrying a tattered leather bag and three identical wide belts with daggers in their sheaths.

The orc waited silently for them to approach.

The elf did not report to him directly, he was not part of the usual orc hierarchy at all. But the chieftain said that the wretch must be here. And if the Chief said something, it had to be done.

It was not customary to ask the Chieftains the reasons for their orders, but Jay-Gul took a chance. If tradition was being broken in order, he wanted to know why. Just so he wouldn't get into trouble.

The Chieftain didn't beat him but explained. The elf supreme witch possessed a magic that allowed her to speak to her own, no matter how far away they were. And if anything important happened, she could find out about it and notify those involved much faster than the orcs themselves could.

It made a certain amount of sense. The Orcs, spilling out into the world in an avalanche, faced the problem of communication. A messenger had to be outfitted to deliver important news. And on his own, he could take days to convey what was important right now. Or there was another option: shamans, who were addicted to their powders and potions, could also whisper to each other over long distances. But the shamans had to be in approximately comparable conditions at the moment of communication. And interpreting the results of such communication was a pain in the ass.

And that's not counting the fact that the shaman after the "séance" came to his senses in a couple of hours at best.

So a direct order and an understanding of the obvious benefits forced Jay-Gul to bury his displeasure deeper. Especially since the elf had no intention of angering the boss. Upon meeting him, he pulled the orc aside and proposed an agreement whereby they would not cause each other problems. By this agreement, the elf acknowledged the orc's right to command, and the orc acknowledged nominal equality in status. The orc, after some thought, agreed. It was better than vying for authority with a subordinate of another senior vassal. More benefit and less trouble. So, though the orc did not like the constant presence of the blond lout who was not part of the usual hierarchy, he did not show his displeasure.

The elf, like the rest of his breed, was a good tracker and an expert ambusher. It was a good skill, requiring qualities that orcs could never have - patience, equanimity, and perseverance. He'd slaughtered quite a few ogres and goblins fleeing the forest, unwilling to acknowledge the authority of others, reporting on the fact. And it was strange that this time he brought someone back alive.

As they approached the boss, the orc carrying the prisoner tossed him at the chief's feet. Jay-Gul put his fingers behind his belt and kicked the body squeamishly.

"Where did you get it?"

"Four miles north of here," the elf answered with a slight nod. "There was a party, three of them. Not natives, different speech and equipment, bad though it was, it looked like a standard, they didn't do that here. I forced them to split up and tried to make contact with each of them. They did not want dialogue and in general, did not behave like guests so two I killed, one I decided to bring to you for questioning."

"That's a good decision you made, right one..."

Jay-Gul headed toward the orc house, gesturing for the others to follow.

The whole house was one large room, with only crudely assembled weapon racks and hides. At the very center of it was a vast, stone-sheathed hearth, smoldering in the thick smell of feet.

The prisoner was thrown to the ground beside the hearth. Jay-Gul pulled the gag from his mouth with a sharp movement and gave him a light slap.

"Tell me. Who you are, what you've been sniffing around. Tell me everything."

"We're just hunters," he mumbled with his split lips, frightened. "We've been tracking mon... Beasts."

"So... Just hunters," the boss hummed.

He took the leather bag from the elf and tried to untie the knots. He tweaked it a couple of times with a rough, scruffy fingernail, scowled, and just tore it open. Cloth-lined vials, strips of dried meat, carefully coiled fine rope with a metallic sheen, small pouches of loose material, and a coiled map of thin leather sprang to the tumbled earthen floor.

Jay-Gul picked up the map and turned it in his hands.

"Elf, have you seen this? What is drawn here?"

"I saw it," he nodded calmly. "A map of the area, not very accurate. The village is on it. There is a lake four miles to the west, and it's been dry for thirty years, so it's an old map. The new icons, match the routes of the loyal to Dawn goblins. This route is recent, less than a week ago. There are more signs, but their purpose is unclear to me."

"That's how it is. Wow, hunters. So much watched." Jay-Gul squatted down and hovered over the prisoner. "Could it be that they're not really hunters, but, say, enemy spies, hmm?"

"No, I swear, not spies!" He fidgeted.

"Oh, all right, then. I was beginning to think bad things about you. If you swear, it must be true. Well, it's for the best." Jay-Gul shoved the gag tightly back into the prisoner's mouth. "If you were a spy, we'd have to keep you here alive. Spies know too much, they're more used to us alive. So much hassle. You're just a hunter, you don't know anything, nobody needs you. So we'll have a nice soup for dinner, with some human flesh in it. The boyz will be happy."

He no longer paid attention to the desperate mooing man.

"Well, elf, come on, there's a lot to do," Jay-Gul beckoned the elf to the exit. "Remind me to teach the shaman how to cut the skin properly; he ruined all the fun last time."

" When you boiled the last soup, did the meat die before you put it in the boil?" He raised an eyebrow boredly.

"Yeah, yeah, that time. Remember when he fucked up the laxatives, you know, before cooking? There was shit floating in the soup, can you imagine?"

"Yours even didn't notice."

The silent boyz burst into a frenzy:

"What the %?*( are you talking about, when *?:% such "?;*!..."

He was interrupted in his speech by a heavy slap from Jay-Gul.

"Shut up."

The orc frowned and fell silent.

All three of them came out of the house. Jay-Gul coughed, leaning against the log wall. The boyz frowned uneasily.

"Boss?"

Jay-Gul barely straightened up and turned his twisted, blackened face toward him. Tears oozed from his eyes. He whispered hoarsely:

"Did you see it? Did you see his face? Shit in the soup, I can't..." Jay-Gul coughed in a twitchy cough again.

The elf and Jay-Gul returned to the prisoner after a couple of hours. This time the shaman was with them. Skinny, wiry, and hunched over, with thin hair, he looked sickly and weak compared to the other orcs. Only the look in the shaman's venomous-black eyes, intelligent, tenacious, unkind, made it clear that in his case personal physical strength was the last thing to think about.

"Is it?" The shaman was busily asking.

"It. Get to work." Nodded the boss

The shaman took out a crooked knife and in a few movements ripped open the prisoner's clothes. The way he moved resembled the movements of a spider catching a large fly.

"The skin is ruined, not fit for a drum," grumbled the shaman, pointing to the chest and belly of the prisoner. There were old scars and a tattoo of some bird's wings spread wide.

"And it's kind of skinny. I'll give you some laxative, it'll make you five pounds lighter."

The shaman plunged a knife into the ground next to the poor man's face and retrieved a crumpled wooden bottle from the depths of his robe. Then he tore the blindfold off the captive's face, holding up the gag. He immediately pushed the gag out of his mouth and screamed:

"I am a spy! Spy! A know a lot!"

"What does it say?" The shaman asked unhappily.

"I am a spy of the imperial army, you can't eat me!" The bound man yelled hoarsely.

"You swore you were just a hunter," Jay-Gul leaned over him. "And now you're pissing in my ear about some kind of army. I think you just don't want to go to the cauldron, that's why "?;%"

"It's true! I can prove it!"

"Yes? Prove it. Let's hear it."

The prisoner began to prove. He did so willingly and in great detail. From what he said, Jay-Gul understood the main thing - there was an army of almost a hundred and fifty natives, a day's march from here. Fifty men on horseback, a company of pedestrians and archers, a hundred, and two mages.

It was both good and bad. The bad thing was that there were too many of them, and there were also mages. With a mage, you never know what he'll cast. The good news was that there was finally going to be a good fight. Even if they were wimps, like the ones Jay-Gul fought last time, they were outnumbered.

The question of whether they would even risk an attack, the orc immediately dismissed. First of all, there are many more of them and for humans, this alone is a great excuse. Secondly, they'd need something to eat. Jay-Gul's men could carry ten days' worth of provisions each. They could stretch their supplies by hunting, but it's hard to feed a band of two dozen by hunting alone, and it's good if you can find a bear or a family of boars. And every orc is a hunter.

And there are a hundred and fifty people here. Everybody wants to eat. And anyway, with that many people here, how could they ever get past a fight? Jay-Gul was firmly convinced that even if they didn't want to, he would make them.

When they heard about the enemies nearby, the boyz became very excited. Jay-Gul had to cool a lot of hotheads eager to have an adventure right now.

By the end of the day, he had sent messengers to the lumberyard and fish post, and by the end of the day, the whole gang had assembled in the village. Gathering everyone on the patch in front of the common house, Jay-Gul surveyed the troops.

With the recent additions, it was nearly forty boyz It was far more than the tough guy was used to seeing under his command.

The snarling, snorting crowd was out for blood. Right now, right this second, they needed an enemy. Jay-Gul remembered himself as part of such a crowd, and he knew what to say.

"Shut up ?;%:::!"

He staggered to the front of the hushed crowd with an imposing look.

"The enemy has not yet arrived, and you are already climbing the wall. Tomorrow everything will happen. Tomorrow they will come."

"Why wait?!" an indistinct murmur was heard.

"Because I said so!!! So we don't have to run far. And that while we're there they won't burn down our village. They'll come on their own."

"And if they don't come?" There was resentment again.

"If they don't come, then we'll go after them. In the meantime, let's get ready. The guests must be welcomed with respect."

The evening passed with preparations. Jay-Gul channeled the energy of the orcs, seething with the anticipation of a fight, into a safe channel. The thatched roofs of the people's houses were dismantled. Jay-Gul had a pretty good idea what would happen if a few flaming arrows or a wizard's fireball hit such a roof. There was no time to convert a thatched roof to a boarded one, so for the time being the frames were covered with hastily sewn soaked hides, which were plentiful.

The ditch outside the palisade was deep and carefully pinned with sharp stakes. Jay-Gul himself thought that the moat would not play a role in the coming battle. If the spy we caught wasn't lying about the number of cavalry, no one would charge against the walls. Cavalry is the main striking force, and it's not very good on the walls.

The elf was sent after the nearest goblin patrol. Small marauders hung around the edge of the great forest, catching the "infidels" fleeing the forest. Ogres and trolls, survivors of the fights, often tried to leave their old haunts on their own. Goblins, having suffered enough at the hands of both, did not pass up the chance to take revenge. The orc God did not approve of the abuse of prisoners, but was quite respectful of revenge and killing the enemy.

Orcs didn't think goblins were good fighters. They were good at stalking, ambushes, and raids, and not much else. Jay-Gul didn't have much respect for them, either. Still, even they could be useful.

After some deliberation, Jay-Gul decided to let the prisoner go. Of course, the spy himself did not know that he had been released. Annika had helped him escape, and the stupid ogres simply hadn't noticed. They didn't make the child lie about something that didn't happen. Jay-Gul didn't like the idea of teaching her to lie. He believed that if the child would hurry up and keep quiet, the man would make things up for himself.

The shaman kept grumbling about the healing potion, which he must have "forgotten" in a prominent place. Without the potion, the prisoner wouldn't have gotten far - the elf had twisted the poor man's hands and feet so badly that his hands and feet were dying off.

* * *

The marching camp of the imperial troops lived its usual evening life. Between the even rows of tents, sentries with torches passed once a minute. Each sentry had two more in sight at the same time. At the corners of the square formed by the camp were sentries, changing every two hours. At a flight of arrows, all the trees around the camp were fallen, so that it was impossible to approach unnoticed.

The scout, shabby and ragged, was spotted at once. And without going into detail they took him to Baron Pallon, the leader of the army.

The baron was not listening to the report of the scout alone. Lady Feo, commander of the imperial cavalry, was also present in the modest by the standards of the nobility commander's tent.

At the end of the story, the frowning baron rolled his jaw.

"Go eat and sleep."

The ranger saluted and rushed off to carry out the command. The Baron sighed and turned to Lady Feo.

"What do you say, Lady?"

Feo, crossing her arms across her chest as usual, replied thoughtfully.

"I will say that I do not believe in such a successful escape, your lordship."

"Explain," the Baron raised an eyebrow.

She made a vague gesture with her hand.

"A group of experienced rangers on a combat mission were hunted down and strangled as rookies. And now there is a survivor who was able to escape from those who strangled them. And he wasn't caught after he became aware of the layout of the fortifications, the numbers. Sounds like a load of crap to me."

"It makes sense. And I suppose whoever captured him the first time would have no problem capturing him the second time."

"That's the way it is. I think they let him go. It's uncharacteristic of monsters, so I couldn't know why. It could be a hint that they don't consider us a threat. Or an invitation to a trap."

The Baron frowned.

"I'm thinking, maybe, or. That's not what I expected to hear from a professional monster hunter."

"What did you expect, your lordship?" Feo raised an eyebrow. "I have never seen, much less killed, the monsters the ranger told me about. Orcs? There are half-human half-pigs, I've encountered them. They're animal-like and barely speak human speech. If they were, I could tell you something definite, what to expect, what tactics to use, and what to be afraid of. But first, the swine-men would leave neither the settlers nor the scout alive. If they didn't devour him at once, they would break his bones and keep him in the pit until they were hungry."

"And the second?" the Baron inquired coldly.

"And secondly, coherent speech. Monsters are incapable of this at all. And half-humans rarely need to learn a human language at all. They're sentient beings, Baron. I'd try talking to them, for starters."

The baron's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Hmm, talking to non-humans. About what? Shall we ask them to leave? Or even acknowledge their right to this land?"

"We should first understand who we're dealing with before we make any decisions," Feo answered coldly.

"I can easily tell who we're dealing with. Monsters." Cut off Pallon. "The subhumans disturbing our nation's borders. Bloodthirsty savages are coming out of that damned forest. They ravage small settlements and attack patrols. And our task, if not to end it, then at least to weaken this invasion. Coincidence, trap, or invitation, does not matter. We have found the location of the lair of non-humans, presumably cannibals. And we have a more or less exact plan of the area. We also know for sure that there are people among them. If they are there as cattle, it is our sacred duty to protect them in the name of the empire. And if they are renegades or rebels, we execute them. In the name of the Empire."

Lady Feo nodded aloofly in response.

"I have been assigned to your command, your lordship," she finally replied. "And I will carry out your orders. I can't understand why you would ask me anything if my words mean nothing to you."

"Because, Lady Feo, I was hoping to hear something practical from you. And not..."

"And not what?"

The Baron became furious at being interrupted for a moment. But then he pulled himself together. Feo continued more calmly.

"Maybe you wanted to hear a suggestion to storm the walls, even if they were wooden. With the cavalry as our main strike force? I have not seen these fortifications, and I cannot estimate what forces it would cost to take them, or what losses there might be. I have not seen the enemy. Negotiations are needed at least to understand who we are dealing with, how they build, how they think, and how they treat death. And after that plan some kind of action. Do you want a frontal attack? Give such an order, and it will be carried out. I merely remind you that we swore an oath to the Emperor, not to you. And for every man fallen in the execution of such an ingenious plan, the imperial executioner will ask you."

The baron gritted his teeth, choking on the urge to slap her. There was too great a chance of losing an arm.

Among the troops entrusted to him by his majesty's decree, Lady Feo was the only former adventurer. And she also commanded half a hundred heavy cavalrymen. As commander, she was appointed his adjutant and bodyguard.

Baron had heard much about adventurers being skilled and calculating fighters. It could not have been otherwise; a professional monster hunter cannot be a bad warrior. His Majesty was not stingy in recruiting them into the army by any means necessary. As far as the Baron knew, it was extremely expensive. Adventurers were extremely reluctant to trade their careers for service in the regular army, and were tempted at least by the knight's spurs. And even so, they only went into service because the monster slaying the emperor had baffled the army. For an adventurer below the rank of platinum, there was simply no job left.

The specifics of battles with monsters led to great losses, and where a small group of adventurers managed without losses, squads of soldiers lost dozens of people killed and crippled. Ghosts, possessed, vampires, werewolves, magically altered beasts, witches, self-taught sorcerers, demon worshippers, demons themselves, and a host of other threats traditionally repelled by adventurers were not what the common soldier was prepared for.

This did not stop the Emperor. And he achieved his goal - the adventurers, left unemployed, began to leave the empire. Or, accept offers to leave the Guild.

And they were worth all the cost. For example, Feo, formerly of gold rank. Upon first meeting her, the Baron was disappointed. The friendly, indifferent woman had many scars but did not stand out for her physique or charisma. The Baron said nothing to that regard, though he began to seriously doubt the legends of invincible adventurers.

The campaign quickly proved that he was right to be silent. His first impression was wrong. Lady Feo was a tireless creature, never seeming to tire at all. She rode or stood all day, never taking off her heavy armor, never even breaking a sweat. She was physically strong enough to lift a grown man in her arms and carry him calmly for several hours without taking off her armor. In training fights, she could only be hit with a sword if three men attacked.

The baron accepted this fact and tried to show the lady respect apropiate to a knight. He even considered the possibility of marriage, at first. A woman is capable of giving birth even at thirty, so age would not be a great hindrance. After all, one could have concubines for pleasure. Yes, she was not of noble blood, but her position in the army mitigated that disadvantage.

The relationship soured very quickly.

The first unpleasant surprise was that Feo obeyed the baron as commander and nothing more. It made no difference to her whether the man in front of her was a nobleman or a common soldier. She was a commoner herself, and yet she had absolutely no respect for titled persons in general and the Baron in particular. There was a time when the Baron had hinted to her that a commoner, even with her knightly status, might well be lashed for disrespect. Feo suggested that he should try it.

++Do you want to give me a reason to drown you in a bucket of shit in public? I'd appreciate it.

She was not afraid. She wasn't afraid of anyone or anything at all. And it wasn't bravado or well-mannered courage - she just didn't know how to be afraid, didn't know how to do it.

And the second unpleasant surprise was the realization that the Emperor did not, by and large, care who solved the problem on this section of the border. Whether it was to rehabilitate a tainted clan or a career advancement for a generic upstart.

The decision to get rid of the rival came as a matter of course. The problem was the lack of a way to do it. In a direct confrontation, he didn't stand a chance, he knew that. In a direct fight, Feo would simply cut him to pieces. There was no way to accuse her of anything either - the knights knew her well and respected her, and would hardly tolerate a slander. Appealing to disrespect for the class would simply raise a laughing stock, at best. Knights are not just about nobility and honor. They are also very willful, experienced, and ruthless cutthroats.

And now a great idea came to the Baron's mind.

"Have it your way, Lady Feo. I admit your words are reasonable and measured. We'll try to talk to these... Orcs."

* * *

As soon as it began to dawn, Jay-Gul was found by an elf. The orc was sitting by the fire, next to the shaman's tent, sharpening the edge of his axe. His ears twitched now and then, responding sensitively to the voices around the camp. The warriors wanted a fight, and they had to be very alert. So they wouldn't find a fight before the guests arrived. It would have been embarrassing.

"Boss, the enemy is coming. If the pace continues, in a couple of hours they will be in sight."

The orc grinned contentedly without turning around.

"So they've taken the bait. What about the ambush?"

"Goblins are placed on the expected path of the enemies and are waiting for a command. I should note that if the enemy commander is not stupid, there is no way to attack suddenly. The terrain is too open."

"And who cares? It's not about the sudden, it's about timing. Those goblins, isn't their boss the one whose ear I cut off?"

"No, the other one. This is the one that was able to capture me in the beginning."

"Oh, I've heard of him. I don't remember his name, just that it's a stupid name. I'm surprised you let him live. I wouldn't."

The elf did not answer.

"Well, it's for the best," Jay added when he realized the elf wasn't going to answer. "Sit down and eat."

The time passed quickly. The orcs, three and a half dozen of them, had gathered at the gate. They were quarreling now and then, and if it hadn't been for Jay-Gul's vigilance to quickly break up the fighters, the fight would have been over long before the enemy arrived.

Jay-Gul saw the problem in the current size of his gang. There were too many fighters for one leader. And he didn't know how to solve it.

There were obvious ways. Let them outnumber each other to an acceptable number, for example. Or send them to slaughter as soon as the opportunity presented itself. As boss, he had every right to do so, and yet something hinted that it wasn't a good way out.

After all, the Nobs had hundreds and thousands of warriors under their command. Both in the form of small gangs and in the form of "antags". The antags were sometimes over a hundred in one place. A hundred fighters without a leader, equal to each other. All they needed was the voice of their leader to end any strife. Jay-Gul wanted that, too. But to have the voice of a Nob, you had to become a Nob. And to become a Nob, you had to overthrow the previous one.

Orc was well aware that by challenging the leader, he would die. He was not afraid to die; after all, when a warrior takes up arms for the first time, he accepts death as fate.

Except he didn't want to die a stupid, useless death. And if he challenged the chief just for ambition, that would be exactly what it would be.

The elf, standing on the parapet of the palisade, raised his fist. Jay-Gul felt a sense of satisfaction, all the unimportant problems receding into the background. The orcs, too, became quiet and composed all at once.

Nothing disciplines like an enemy in sight, Jay-Gul noted as he climbed up.

Soldiers were approaching the village from the west. The total number was under two hundred, more than the escaped spy had said. Jay-Gul counted by the dozen, and he counted 12^12 of infantry or so. And five more were cavalry. Even from a distance, it was clear that almost all were in armor.

The army approached slowly and stopped about half a mile from the walls the orcs had erected. They stopped and began to regroup. The infantry lined up in triple lines, facing the walls. The cavalry in equal groups at their sides. There were a few riders behind the infantry as well. No matter how hard he squinted his eyes he couldn't see their gear. One thing was clear - they had no armor on.

The orc poked his fat finger in that direction.

"Can you hit those over there?"

The elf shook his head negatively.

"Far away. The arrow won't even reach."

"Damn."

The orc was about to wave his hand, sending the rampaging boys into battle, when the elf squinted and pointed in the direction of the enemies.

"Look."

"What's the matter?"

"Two riders separated, clearly heading this way."

The orc's face stretched.

"Just the two of them? They're pretty good."

"I don't think they're going to fight. I think it's a negotiation."

"Wut?" Jay-Gul was even more surprised. "What's there to talk about?"

The elf shrugged.

"I don't know. But that's how people do it. To talk, to get to know each other."

"This is weird. Here we are, here they are, what we have, the spy told them, what they have, the spy told us. What fucking negotiations about what? Did they bring that casino here for nothing?"

"You decide."

Jay-Gul looked again, and when he saw that two riders had indeed separated from the detachment, he grumbled irritably and came down from the wall to the gate.

"What there? WHERE?! Chop-chop. Boss when?"

"Shut up. I gonna talk with their boss. Open the gate."

He was overwhelmed with irritation, and impatience. He felt the same way all the orcs felt. The more annoyed they were, the more annoyed he was. And the orcs, feeling their commander boiling over, became even more irritated.

Jay-Gul stepped out of the gate, swaying his axe, and staggered toward them. He didn't go far; he was about forty paces away, leaning on his weapon.

The riders approached. Jay-Gul wondered how heartless one had to be to load an animal with so much iron. There wasn't a single part of the human body that wasn't covered in metal. There was relatively less steel on the horses, but it was decent, too.

When the riders came within striking distance of each other, they stopped. One of them lifted his visor and assessed the orc. He appeared to be the superior of the two. And yet it seemed to the orc that the other was a far more worthy fighter.

"Identify yourself!" finally broke the silence.

"I'm Jay-Gul, I'm the boss and the owner of this village. What do you want?"

"I am Baron Pallon, appointed by the grace of the Emperor to bring order to this land. I see you're intelligent. I'll give you a chance to save your skin. Leave this place immediately, and tell those who want to live to do the same."

Jay-Gul was taken aback. He looked at the other, then back at first, and laughed. The orc laughed heartily as long as he could breathe, slapping his thigh. Then he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and caught his breath. And then he burst into a fit of laughter again.

"I suppose your laughter means no, monster?" The horseman rumbled.

"Oh fuck, hahaha haha... Oh, I can't... Ohhh. Anyway, I'm not gonna kill you right now. I wanted to, but I won't. Here's the thing, man. You're stupid. You're... You're stupid. Have you come to threaten an orc with death? You? Threaten an orc with death? Death? Three jokes in a row. Funny, very funny. I appreciate it. Now go to your gang. Tell them we'll kill them. Let them come here and die like warriors. Or let them run and die like fowl. I'll let you live because you're funny. You will amuse me. That's all I said. Off you go."

Jay-Gul gave one last chuckle, turned, and headed for the gate. The baron gritted his teeth and reached for his pouch. The second rider followed the movement and shouted:

"Don't you dare, you idiot!"

But there was no time to interfere. Baron pulled a small but powerful steel crossbow out of its case, already cocked, and fired a bolt into the orc's back.

Jay-Gul turned around at the shout, and a short metal arrow sliced into his shoulder. It hurt rather badly for such a small projectile. It felt like someone had driven a nail into his shoulder. My head felt a little dizzy, and my body felt heavy.

There was a thud and a dry cracking sound as the elf fired his arrow. It failed to penetrate the armor of the baron and shattered into splinters.

"Mine!" roared Jay-Gul, dashing after him.

A second rider blocked his path. The sword whistled dangerously close to his neck and split his ear. Jay-Gul had to change his aim. As much as he wanted to tear the dishonorable bastard apart, he couldn't ignore the fighter right next to him.

He swooped down on the new target with all his strength and fury. With his experience in encounters with humans and then ogres, he expected nothing from his opponent. Just because the man had a lot of steel on him couldn't make him a good fighter. The orc finished off the horse with a short swing, with a single strike of his axe. The animal had no chance of dodging with such a burden. The heavy blade smashed through the horse's skull, along with the engraved steel plate it was covered with.

The rider sprang rather gracefully from the saddle of the falling horse and stood in a fighting stance. By the short curses from under his visor, the boogeyman was finally convinced that it was a woman.

This in itself was not unusual for Jay-Gul. Orcish women did not usually fight on the front lines, but they could always enter the battlefield with bows. Fast and strong, they were inferior to elves in marksmanship and range. But where an elf had to carefully target a vulnerable spot, an orcish woman only needed to hit.

For example, an escaped leader could have been knocked off his horse by an orcish woman's arrow. If not at the first, then at the second.

Jay also knew that the city and palace guards were women, about a third of the total. The elves had at least half of them. Maybe more than that, and you couldn't tell the big-eared ones apart. Jay still wasn't sure what gender the elf in his gang was.

So there was nothing strange about the woman-warrior. And yet there was something wrong with the whole situation.

"Stupid world," grumbled the orc. "Women have balls more often than men."

The woman, meanwhile, without any distraction, swooped down on the orc, striking the orc with two swift slashes with her sword. Jay bounced back and kicked her in the shield with his foot. She closed in expectantly and lost the initiative. A brief moment was enough for a good swing with the axe.

Against expectations, the human wasn't tossed aside as a sack of shredded meat in a twisted steel wrap. The axe ricocheted off a well-placed shield. It took Jay-Gul barely a second to regain his and his weapon's balance. And human made good use of it. A momentary lunge of the sword at the neck could well, if not end a life, then cause a serious wound.

If the opponent was another human.

Jay-Gul gently stepped aside, spun around, and brought the axe down again, not with the blade, but with the butt. There was a thud of crumpling steel and a crack. The knight's shield dented and cracked, and she jerked backward, barely able to keep her balance. Jay-Gul immediately struck again, expecting to finish her off.

The woman did not defend herself but threw herself into a clinch with all her weight in a stabbing blow. And this time successfully. Jay-Gul didn't have time to dodge completely, and the edge of the sword left a long cut on his stomach.

Orc retaliated by kicking his opponent in the groin. The steel skirt cushioned the blow, though the body was still thrown back a few paces. Jay-Gul swung his axe again, and a bolt stuck in his shoulder scratched the bone and cartilage. The blow turned out to be awkward, and the knight took it away from her head with his sword. It saved her life, though the fight was still over. The blade struck the shoulder pad with such force that it broke the bone.

Jay-Gul drove his axe into the ground and, keeping his eyes on the wobbly figure, plucked a bolt from his shoulder. The dizziness was almost gone, though there was still an unpleasant burning sensation in the wound.

"You are a good warrior, human. Why are you commanded by a dishonorable coward? You should have defied him... Hold your weapon steady. I will kill you with all respect."

The human did not reply. The orc nodded, acknowledging his reluctance to waste words, and raised his axe. And then the human fell. She didn't try to cushion her fall with her hands but collapsed to the ground.

Jay-Gul raised an eyebrow in surprise, stepped closer, and pushed the body with his foot. He leaned over, flipped the body onto its back, and tried to open the visor without waiting for a reaction. The stubborn iron was much tougher, than it looked and did not open at once,

The woman was alive but unconscious. The orc had seen this before - it had happened to humans and ogres from severe but not fatal wounds.

He couldn't decide what to do. To kill her now, as it were, would be unfair. She had fought fair and deserved to die in fight.

He was distracted by a shout from the wall. Jay glanced up to see if the elf was pointing in the direction of the enemies.

The commander had already galloped toward them. A horn sounded, and the troops moved toward the settlement.

Jay put the decision aside, threw the body on his shoulder, and walked back to the gate. Boyz was nervous. When he had barely stepped behind the walls, he was overwhelmed again by a seething rage. He leaned the motionless body against the wall.

"Elf!" Jay barked, "Call the shaman!"

Throwing everything out of his head that made no sense to think about, he stood in the middle of the open gate. His blood was boiling, his head dizzy with venom and the urge to kill. He breathed deep into his lungs and pointed his axe forward toward the oncoming warriors of the enemy.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

The ground and walls trembled in unison with the instantaneous cry. The orcs poured through the gate in one mass.

Jay-Gul himself was eager to give himself over to the rampage. To immerse himself in the chaos of blood and death without a trace of thought. Wagh beckoned, like a nap after a three-day march through the marshes. Like fresh moonshine on a festive evening. Like a beautiful woman who walked into an empty tent.

And yet something held him back. That something was fireballs, bright even in daylight. Three orbs flew into the air from behind a line of enemy infantry and flew lazily toward the village. They seemed to float slowly through the air. Jay-Gul knew the price of such slowness.

He knew what was coming. And he hesitated, torn apart by the contradiction. To surrender to the Wagh or to stay where he was and fight the fire.

Not knowing what to do, he did what he always did. He recalled the order in detail.

Boss told us to take this village, subdue it with as little damage as possible, and fortify ourselves here. And that order remains in force until Boss gives another.

What could be worse than failing a Boss's order? Only to fail an order from the Creator. And by the way, it was the Creator who told the Warboss to deal with the issue of the occupation.

If the village burns down, it cannot be called minimal damage. And there will be nothing to fortify on.

"Aaaaaaah! Goddamn, you fucking wizards! Damn you three hundred times! Aaahhhh!!! Shaman, fuck your guts, where the fuck have you been!!!"

The shaman was already waddling toward the gate, and the elf had carried out the order he'd given me a minute before. Jay ran toward him.

"What..." The shaman grumbled and then stopped talking.

Jay-Gul poked his finger behind his back, upward, without stopping. The shaman seemed to lose his temper.

"So-ka. I'll do what I can."

"Elf, signal the goblins! Let them do what they want, but the mages must be stopped!"

The elf nodded and disappeared with a blurred dash.

"Everybody in the houses, open the doors, get in the corners!" Jay yelled at the top of his tinned throat. "Fire from above! Don't lock up! When it fucking hits, count to five! If it's quiet, run out and fight the fire!"

For the most part, his cries went to waste. The villagers had stayed indoors since yesterday and didn't show their faces outside. The orcs, with their desire to spill blood, discouraged any desire to cross paths with them.

The shaman, meanwhile, took his time walking out onto the cathedral square in front of the former headman's house. He took off his heavy bone beads as he went.

"Appear."

Above the beads, there was a fluttering haze like a blistering heat wave.

"A deal is a deal, spirit. The time has come."

The haze crawled over to the shaman's arm and immediately enveloped him completely. The shaman looked up at the sky - fireballs were already falling on the settlement from a height of two hundred paces. The humming whirring of boiling fire could be heard even below.

The shaman tapped his staff on the ground and yelled:

"Ashes to ashes! Flame to flame!"

The ground shook perceptibly, and a dusty haze rose above it. And the shaman burst into flames as if he'd been bound in twigs. The roar of fire drowned out the rest of the screams. The fireballs in the air exploded into many fat smoky pieces and spilled downward.

Almost all of them reached for the shaman, who was shrieking with rage but standing still.

There was a rumbling noise. The fragments of fire exploded as they slammed into the shaman, spattering acrid, flowing flames for dozens of paces. The cathedral square was instantly a blazing inferno.

Several pieces of fire fell in other places. Two fell on a house on the outskirts, one on a barn not far from the patch, and three more somewhere on the other side of the village. Jay-Gul couldn't see where, just hoped it was on the ground and not on the buildings.

The flames roared on the patch even though the ground was burning. Whether the shaman had survived, the orc did not know and considered this question of secondary importance.

If he's dead, there's nothing to be done. If he survived, how could he be found in a fire, the heat of which made his hair crackle even at a distance?

In any case, the shaman accomplished his task. He drew back the firestorm. Mages should also notice how a spell that had already worked suddenly begins to eat up magical powers again and in much greater quantities.

Although, in the opinion of the orc, it turned out too much. Either the shaman overdid it, or the mages were strong. Though it didn't really matter at this point.

The orc ran to the house on which the fiery fragment had fallen. The hide-covered frame of the roof did its job. The piece of fire spread across it without hitting the house itself. People had already run out of it.

The father of the family, his two sons, the mother of the family, and the wife of the eldest. The older woman held two grandchildren in her arms, and the younger one held a one-year-old to her chest.

Stunned and deafened people looked around, the baby screamed.

"What's up! Women, over there to that house, it's not hit! You, over here, you two, over there!"

There was no need for repetition. The commander's tone and direct instructions washed away the confusion. Women and children rushed to the house next door. The men began to help the orc pull the burning hide from the roof.

The hide was thrown there on the spot, only folded in half. Jay-Gul and his assistants rushed to the other side of the settlement, where the fire had also fallen.

A barn not far from the patch was crackling merrily with fire, but Jay-Gul didn't see much point in dealing with it. There weren't supposed to be people in it, and if the fire spread to a house, it wouldn't be long before it did.

The other places where the fire fell were also without casualties. In one place, it really fell on the ground. In another on the tent of the shaman. The tent had been hard-enchanted against fire, and by the time Jay-Gul and his assistants got there, the tent was already extinguished. It smelled of greasy smoke, but not even a hole appeared.

At the third crash site, the fire did hit the house. The occupants had already tried to fight it out. It was no use - the speed of drawing water from the well made it impossible to stop the fire from spreading, let alone put it out.

Jay immediately intervened in the process. The women were driven to the nearest shelter, and the men began to remove the roof. They did it quickly, though the fire had already crept over the walls and some of the roof framing.

Through the screeching and crackling of the fire came a warning cry from someone. Jay looked up into the sooty sky. Several more fireballs were approaching.

"Air! To the shelter, quickly, quickly!"

Without questioning what the air had to do with it, the men scattered. The orc himself stared at the greasy trail of lights until the last seconds, calculating where they would fall, and only then ran into the nearest house.

It was crowded and quite noisy. Someone was crying, children were yelling, someone was asking what was going on, and someone was demanding that everyone be quiet.

With this man, Jay-Gul was in complete agreement.

"Shut your "?;% mouths! Quiet!"

There was silence for a second. Then there was a rumbling sound from outside, and something rattled from above. The orc listened, counted to five, and commanded:

"Everybody outside, look around women and children where there's still no fire! Not women follow me!"

A quick check showed that at least a quarter of the houses were on fire. Some of the other houses had smoky roofs, and the roof defenses were acting up again.

People were running and screaming in a cloud of smoke. It was a mess, and the panic threatened to cause more damage. Jay, cursing himself and his short-sightedness, began to restore order.

The thunderous matting, kicking, slapping, and simple, clear instructions from Jay-Gul quickly bore fruit. The running became orderly and purposeful.

Not everyone was busy extinguishing. Orc feared that if there was another strike, the wells would show the bottom, and there would be nothing to extinguish the really important buildings, like the forge. So they left the badly burned houses to burn, taking out what was most valuable.

He took the most active part in eliminating the fire. The orc's tremendous strength and resistance to pain and burns saved many who stumbled or otherwise failed to get out of the burning houses. A new firestorm never came. Half an hour later, there were no more open flames. Jay told the survivors to gather for roll call. They gathered not far from the old patch. The ground was still greasy with smoke at the cathedral site itself.

There were not as many dead and missing as he feared. Five of the panicked men who'd missed the second blast of fire burned outside the houses. Two suffocated in the smoke, another was nailed by a log. A guy thought he heard a scream in a burning house and went to save them.

It could be worse.

Then one of the boyz who had gone into battle appeared. He was covered in blood and cuts, a sword scar across his muzzle, one eye in place, and a bloody hollow in place of the other.

"What's in there?" Jay grumbled enviously to the boyz.

He didn't look much better, covered with soot, abrasions, and bloodshot burns.

"We tore them up!" The boyz proudly announced. "They had to run. The ones on horseback were fast. A few got away. A few surrendered."

"How many of our men are dead?"

"Ten. Another five were chopped up but alive."

"Their boss? Their boss, what about him?"

"Their boss run away."

Jay-Gul could hardly suppress his rage.

"@?;%!"

"Don't be angry, boss. He won't get far, the horse will get tired. We'll catch up."

"Right. Okay, what about the wizards?"

The goblins slaughtered the mages. We got into a melee, while this and that, we couldn't get to them. And the goblins came from behind, scaring them off. The mages set them on fire, but the little guys did good, especially their boss. Burned all over, but he made it. Only died when he stuck a knife in the belly of a wizard. Cut up the mages, that's all. The guys sent me to ask what to do next.

"Bring them here. The living, the dead, the horses, the gear. Bring them all. We'll sort them."

"Yeah." The messenger glanced at the smoky fires, the pillar of smoke from the patch. "You had fun here, too, didn't you, boss? The boyz were worried you weren't going with the rest of them."

"Whoever was worried, let them ask me themselves. I will tell them very clearly why. It'll take a week to get their teeth together. Go ahead."

* * *

"Now it's just a matter of time. Take it."

Talik handed Draga a scroll-wrapped letter with a gilded seal. She accepted it with a deep bow and put it in her inventory.

"Do you remember what to do?"

"Absolutely, Prophet. I will deliver it to the E-Rantel guild, and while I wait for an answer, I will meet with Gazeph Stronoff and establish friendly relations with him. If a Bone Dragon appears, destroy it with as few outside casualties as possible. Whoever summoned it, capture it at all costs, preferably alive."

Talik nodded.

"I hope for you. It's important."

Draga bowed deeply again and left.

[message]

"Marius?"

"Yes, Your Holiness. My time has come?"

"Yes. Just meet me at my temple."

"As you wish."

It took only a few minutes to get to his private quarters. Marius was already waiting at the entrance. The grotesque figure of the lich provided a wild contrast to the majestic archway of the entrance. In his hands, the lich held several thick, dark-colored folders with silver edging. At Talik's appearance, the lich bowed deeply.

"Are these folders of your research?"

"Yes, Master. The most important thing of all that has been studied."

Talik took the stack outstretched. It was rather heavy for its size. He beckoned the lich to follow him, opened the first of the folders, and glanced through them as he went. He frowned, flipped through the second, the third... He felt some sort of unnatural irritation. It was as if something flickered in his lateral vision. Something familiar and important, and at the same time forgotten and elusive.

As he entered his office, he irritably nailed this stack to his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Your Holiness, have I made you angry?" The cautious baritone of the lychee sounded.

Talik slowly exhaled.

"You not. It's just that I was expecting something a little different."

"What is my mistake?"

"This one," Talik waved his palm at the stack of folders. "It's not science or research. "Necrotic energies," "soul substances," etc. Bullshit, to put it simply."

He collapsed into a chair. Marius hovered mournfully over the table.

"Marius, I do not doubt that you put a lot of effort into observing and categorizing. That part is very well done. But here are the conclusions, it's... Can you explain to me, for example, what "necrotic energy" is?"

"It is the energy coming from the world of death through every being that has lost life. Depending on the lifetime power of the deceased being..."

"That's enough. Okay, let's say the energy coming from the otherworld. How did you even determine that it existed, and even more so in this form? What metrics did you use when generating it, and with what? With your senses? Here," Talik shook one of the folders in his hand. "is a detailed description of the act of killing a living being. Knowing what the creature did when it was alive, I am willing to set aside the moral side of the question. And so, at the end of this act, "life energy" was expelled, after which "necrotic" energy began to be released. The question is, what was your measure of these energies? What was the measure of their quantity and properties? What are they, and how do they spread and accumulate?"

"I thought these things were obvious, and now I realize I was mistaken. I cannot answer the questions asked, Your Holiness. I am grateful for this criticism and regret that I wasted your time. "

"It's not that it's wasted at all. You have made many useful observations. These charts, at least. Great comparative analysis and classification of power patterns. Really well done and brings up a lot of thoughts. There's really a lot to work with here. As an engineer, I can already see some interesting things. But other than observations... You just don't have the education to do real scientific work. Yeah."

"I regret my uselessness, Your Holiness."

"And you, too. As if there's any use in having regrets. The problem is your education, or rather the lack thereof. Until we fix it, at least in the basics, there will be no work."

"Do you wish to teach me? I can't tell you how happy I would be about this opportunity."

%%Why shouldn't I be? I'm not much of a teacher, of course... On the other hand, if this supercomputer really wants to learn, there shouldn't be much of a problem. Unless there's a "machine uprising", but... It already happened, and I can't leave things as they are.

"It's not that I want it so much... It's okay to try. But first, let's finish the other business. About Lias. He said a lot of nice things about you as a teacher. And, by all appearances, not for nothing."

Talik flipped through the thick journal containing everything about the boy once more. Including a comparative analysis of power gain, the literature used, and the process of adapting it for "mere mortals". Through trial and error, Marius soon found his way to Lias. Among other things he literally " pumped" the guy, forcing him to exterminate the low-level undead of his own making.

"I made every effort available."

"Does this effort include the fact that he moved to live in the city of the living?"

"Absolutely. It's one of the strongest motivations for him to do his best in his studies."

"And at the same time, you gave an outsider access to the guild without asking me. It is not a bad thing for an outsider to see the guild from within. It's even good to learn from him how the city will be seen by outsiders. The bad thing is that I will know that the outsider is integrating into an isolated system by the fact."

"This is my miscalculation, Your Holiness. It will not happen again."

"I really hope so. Okay, what's next..."

Talik went through and thumbed through the folders. In fact, Archlich had compiled the notes perfectly. A table of contents and a statement of conclusions. Footnotes with page numbers detailing considerations and observations. Yellow paper with a greenish tint and strict black typeface carried a lot of really important things.

Talik was both relieved and apprehensive as he read the notes. Marius was aware of literally everything.

His minions, the lichs, recently assigned to the role of clerks in city services, provided exhaustive information about all the cases that passed through them. The information was systematized, classified, and sorted.

What, when, and where was going on, what was being talked about - and what was being withheld, what the residents were unaccustomed to. To summarize his observations, problems were brewing in the city.

Humans and elves were ceasing to respect the draconids. For the moment, it wasn't a problem, per se. But in the foreseeable future, if nothing was done, it could be.

Apparently, this was because the two races had representatives among the Elder Servants. And there was a great deal of importance attached to it. The Elder Servants, as the rest of the NPCs understood it, were someone close to the higher powers and represented the interests of the entire race. The draconids had no such representative. And somehow, it turned out that since they were not illuminated by the highest attention, they were not as important as the others.

Either Wilhelm missed this point or simply ignored it. Or maybe he deliberately neglected it based on the same logic. One way or another, any disputes between draconids and representatives of other races were resolved not in favor of the former.

Talik had a very good idea of how relations between nations of different "sorts" might develop. The history of the Earth had quite illustrative examples.

It was good that orcs and undead didn't bother with anything at all. Both of them didn't give a damn about the other races.

Although Talik did not want to rely entirely on this data. They were collected only in the "human" part of the city. Though it was inhabited in one way or another by representatives of all the races of the guild, humans had a serious majority.

"Yes, it's more like the real world," Talik leaned back in his chair, studying the stained glass ceiling. "It's better this way, though. A clear problem is always better than the unknown."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't bother yet. Is this an inventory of your household?"

"Yes, I suppose that's a good definition."

"Okay, I was just about to ask... Oh, I take it you made your own pudge?"

"Yes, Your Holiness. Not unlike the works of Lord Cassius, but useful."

"Kashchey yes, his build was really good... Hmm, I wonder how he would behave if he were here too."

"Is such a possibility not excluded?" Cautiously asked the archilich

"Well..." Talik thoughtfully stretched out, flipping through the pages. "I don't think you can expect any of us here at all, but you never know. Only about Kashchey, that's for sure."

"May I know why this is so?"

"He's... Hmm. He's dead. For real. A year ago... That's eight years for you."

"This is hard for me to comprehend, Your Holiness. I always thought death had no authority over the Lords. And Lord Cassius himself ruled over it... Moreover, I had the good fortune to see Lord Cassius later than the time you mentioned."

Leach was a little downcast.

+Well, how to explain to him what a character on the bot is?

"It's hard to explain, Marius. In the universe, as you know it, we're really incapable of dying for good. At least, not without our will. But in our... Homeworld, we can die."

"That's how... Could I... Get the details?"

"It's a sad story, Marius. Maybe I'll tell it you someday. There are more important things right now. Is the undead you created stable?"

"To my shame, not really. At least the one based on flesh. The supposed lifespan of the Pudges is less than a month. The hounds are even less. Perhaps the problem is that they are assembled from dead bodies..."

"And you'd like to try to assemble them from the living? Forget about such things. In any case, it is highly unlikely that the result will be different."

"And what do you see as a problem?"

"Hell, it's the fact that a living body cut into pieces becomes dead and begins to decompose. If you were a muscular surgeon with the proper training and tools, this could have been avoided. Or use dead water. But if it can be found in this world, it certainly won't go into making pudges. In any case, it's enough for current needs."

"Current needs?"

"Yes. In those plains where I found trouble. There was quite a show there, and I suppose it has to do with the way you and Illadria spammed the portal interceptor. More likely, there's an outpost or fortress or something like that. Whoever is the master there has shown himself to be the enemy. Decency demands a courtesy visit, and common sense demands a study of their technology. We will not strike into the unknown with our main forces. But we must try and provoke them to show us what they can do."

"That's a delightful thought. That way we can try out my crafts. Yes."

"You made three pudges and send two of them there. Let one stay in reserve for now. Send a dozen death knights with the pudges. They're not too shabby and relatively hard to kill. And they'll need a commanding officer. There's no point in sending a Wraith. We need someone more serious..."

"I would send a vampire, Your Holiness. They are intelligent and disciplined enough not to do anything foolish. Their lineage and ambition..."

Talik was quiet, taking stock. Vampires were pretty formidable fighters for their levels. Not without their weaknesses, of course. And it would be interesting to give an NPC the initiative and see what came of it.

On the plus side, it was much easier to resurrect a vampire than a living or named unit. Even Marius himself could do it without losing any levels.

On the other hand, it's a vampire, after all...

"In theory, a vampire could lose control and create a hotbed of infection. A lot of problems, to put it simply."

"This will not happen in practice, Your Holiness. My direct authority is sufficient to prevent such a thing from happening. And if for some reason, it is not enough, I will personally destroy it. Along with the problems."

"All right. Let's do that. When will they be ready?"

"Now."

"Then, here's your task. Find the place over there where those sparks are in the sky and examine it thoroughly. If there's a fortification or something like that, grab it. If we're lucky, we'll play big fish."

"I don't fully understand the term..."

"Provoke an attack, estimate forces, add reinforcements. If the enemy adds more, we'll add more, and so on, until the limits of one side's resources are clear. In fact, the group with the vampire will act as biting bait. A small fish to which a bigger fish can bite, on which we drop an even bigger fish, and so on. All more or less serious mash-ups start with this. Well, we'll see what the results will be. Either we take the bridgehead, or we loot everything there and destroy what's left."

"I get the idea. I'll do my best."

"You may proceed."

Marius bowed out and left the office. The irritation and uneasiness did not let up.

%Maybe we should cancel this "expedition. I have a bad feeling about this. On the other hand, there is no way to leave such a raid unanswered. What I don't like about it, I don't understand. Vampire? Well, in theory, he could do a lot of damage. In practice, if Marius was watching him, he wouldn't make it, even if he tried. He wouldn't be a threat to the Guild, even if he were to mutiny or get out of control. One seventy... Or maybe we shouldn't trust Marius. But even with his recognition knocked down, he's still stuck up for me. Who should I trust, anyway? Maybe there's something else at work here.

The characteristic melodic chime of "message" sounded in the head. Talik exhaled and accepted the message.

"What's the matter?"

"Your Holiness, stalker cf17. A scout reports that the orcs from the edge of the forest were attacked. The attack was repulsed, there are casualties and prisoners."

"Where were they attacked, by what forces?"

"Orc-occupied local village, first in line. The leader is Jay-Gul. An armed formation attacked. Humans, a preliminary estimate of about a hundred and sixty units."

"Locals?"

"All the signs say so."

"How far away are the next two stalkers and what are they doing?"

"Me and cf23, terrain control, forty minutes of rapid marching."

"Try a very quick march. Head straight there, and find out the details on the spot. Get all the details from the prisoners about where they came from and why they attacked."

"Roger."

+*+*Is that mean, that the other side checking me on too? My friends, you shouldn't do that. Of course, I understand everything, but for such things, I repay hard in the game. I don't want to be the perpetrator of massacres, but just watching savages from feudal society attacking MY Guild, I want even less. Want to know what a guild war is? I'll show you.

The anxiety and irritation receded, and instead came an outburst of indignation, and outrage. The feeling was so strong that it made me dizzy for a second. The first thing I wanted to do was to rip off all the available "units" and send them to destroy all life on the side from which the attackers had come. It was worth a tangible effort of will to hold on.

+Bastards. Kashchey, give me power. Like you said... To slap a girl, to send the manager to hell, to insult a friend - it may seem appropriate, only while you are angry. This is a different level, but the principle is the same. Taking revenge for a single attack with genocide is not something really worth doing. It's in the game that there is no real death, and the culprit is always unambiguous. Moreover, there is the possibility that it is a provocation to lure you out and hit you. Okay, consider it lured out. But first, calm down and figure it out... At least until details emerge. Too bad the message doesn't work with small units.

He threw his legs up on the table, interlocked his fingers and scowled.

+The first village is the eastern part of the forest, and it can be considered the border with this "empire" that Akuro and Era spoke of. Robbery can be ruled out. A hundred and fifty men, that's not a unit that can be fed by plundering. Anything is possible, but... Unlikely, in general. Then it turns out to be soldiers, and soldiers usually attack under orders. Find out who gave the order and give them a couple of flaps, and at the same time make sure it doesn't happen again. Based on the fact that they were waved off by a gang of orcs, not the most powerful formation, to put it bluntly...

[message]

"Warboss, how was your war in the woods?"

"It is no longer war, Creator. Hunting. The boyz are having fun."

"I need some of them to have fun in a different place. Come over to my place and we'll discuss the details."

* * *

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