Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Глава пятнадцатая. Первое приключение Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter Fifteen. The First Adventure of the Hero of the Elf Queen

* * *

The Portal Complex, through which Cyril had arrived in White Harbor, was located on a decent-sized rocky hill on the outskirts of the city, beyond which the Forest began. And it had a great view of White Harbor, which was, no fool, impressive. The city was of a pretty decent size. Of course, not even close to Moscow, but by local standards, quite impressive. There was also a very beautiful view of the Elven Bay from the hilltop. Kirill could even distinguish distant forested mountains on the opposite shore. The young man with his maids deliberately stayed on the platform in front of the portal complex, admiring the view.

And Gata and Armina, who had been to White Harbor before, willingly answered his questions. First, as it is not difficult to guess, Cyril was interested in the harbor. Huge in size, formed on the one hand by a natural promontory, deeply embedded in the bay, and on the other hand by a good-quality artificial embankment with powerful fortress walls going on top of them, it could accommodate dozens, or indeed, hundreds of ships of different appearance and size. There were small fishing boats, and a couple of real giants, not inferior in size to the cruise liners of the native Earth. And made any Earth experts of copromatism smash their heads against the wall in a fit of impotent rage. Because a ship of that size, built of wood, can't move on the open sea without falling apart on the first waves.

The largest of the ships in the harbor was nine stories high with its masts. It looked more like a floating palace than a seagoing vessel, both in size and luxury. Its numerous decks and superstructures were lavishly decorated with carvings, reliefs, and painted in red and gold colors. Even the huge sails, which were now furled, were bright red. How much this marvel had cost was even frightening to imagine. And this ship came from the Eastern or Rising Empire, explained Gata to Cyril. The young man, thanks to his tiara, which had the functions of binoculars, could see it very well, as well as feel a huge amount of magic, literally impregnating it. Indeed, a natural floating palace, Cyrill commented on this giant. Gata nodded in agreement and confirmed that it was. This ship is indeed considered the maritime residence of the plenipotentiary representative, or as they prefer to say, the “Voice of the Emperor of the Rising”. And just like his residence on the shore within the city limits, this ship is considered a territory of the Eastern Empire.

Against the background of this giant, which stood at a separate wharf surrounded by much smaller but similarly styled ships, the harbor had a considerable number of sailing ships more familiar to Cyril. They resembled the European ships he had seen in movies, paintings, and history books. There were whole flotillas, under the common flags of various Free Cities, Trading Houses, Guilds, and individual ships. There were also quite exotic ships in the harbor. For example, an entire wharf was occupied by a flotilla of boats that resembled classic canoes. Without masts and sails, and even without oars, they were about thirty meters long and six meters wide.

Their sides were painted with intricate and colorful designs forming complex ornaments and patterns, and along the top of each canoe were rows of masks of varying appearance and size. In them, as well as in the patterns, even from such a distance, one could distinguish magic, of varying degrees of power, but not familiar to Cyril. No classical weaves. Instead, the young man, looking at the canoe with magical vision, several times distinguished vague shadows of strange creatures sliding along the sides, literally imbued with one element or another. Mostly, as far as he could make out, water or air. Clearly shamanic practices.

The masks, most likely, served as dwellings for the spirits that protected the ships. At first glance, they caused Cyril to associate them with African ones, seen on TV and the Internet on his native Earth. And, as it turned out, these associations had a basis. This merchant fleet came from Ngabo-Ckhele, a city located in the southwest of the southern continent, in the delta of the great river Gnmala. Those lands were inhabited by various black peoples, often at odds with each other. These ships belonged to one of the most powerful and wealthiest rulers of the Khotta people, the ruler of Ngabo-Khele, the River King, Khonga-Mbao. Or rather, they did not belong to him personally, but, as they used to say, traveled under his hand.

There was a considerable number of ships in the harbor, also occupying a separate wharf, resembling catamarans in appearance. They, too, were of various sizes, including several quite large ones. The largest, with a solid superstructure over the deck, had four boat bases, was forty meters long, and about fifteen meters wide. In his magical vision, it glowed perceptibly from the numerous weaves that formed the whole. Cyril strongly suspected that without them, such a ship would not be able to sail properly. However, he was not the only one.

These catamarans, as Gata explained to Cyril, came from the Gem Cities, located on the continent beyond the Southeastern Seas. Specifically, on its northern coast, because the rest of it, as Cyril remembered from Diantrel's lectures, was very poorly developed and represented the classic Wildlands. These cities were called Gem Cities because the first had been founded in places where various gems had been mined before the rise of the Rising Empire. Since then, many centuries have passed, many of the mines have long been exhausted or depleted, some cities have fallen into decline or disappeared altogether, swallowed up by their neighbors, others, on the contrary, have flourished in places where no stones were mined, but the common name has stuck to them.

There were also galleys in the harbor, as if they had come from a history book of Ancient Greece or Ancient Rome. They, too, occupied a separate wharf and noticeably differed in size. There were relatively small ones with one row of oars, and there was a huge ship with five rows, the length of which was only slightly inferior to the floating palace of an envoy of the Emperor of the Eastern Empire. But in luxury of finish, it did not seem to surpass it. In any case, there was more gilding shining in the sun. The second color of all the galleys in the harbor was green. Green color was also a carved figure in the form of a dragon's head, which decorated each of them on the bow. And, as Gata explained to Cyril, it was a very specific dragon.

Quarinis Killing Wave was a green dragon, a Great Serpent, who earned his nickname for his mastery of an element not commonly used by dragons - water. It was not that he poured boiling water on his enemies instead of fire, but that he could skillfully direct his power to create destructive waves capable of drowning entire fleets or sweeping away cities from the coasts. Provided, of course, that the latter didn't fight back at all, the cat lady added.

This green dragon was the ruler of Azlanth, located on the southeastern coast of the Southern Continent, where the Great Jungle spread out. It was the only, and therefore the richest and largest, seaport of the lizardmen. Its favorable location in the delta of the Czeertha River allowed it to conduct river and sea trade all year round. All goods that traveled to the cities of the lizardmen and their fire-breathing overlords by sea from the east passed through it. Just like all the goods that traveled from the Mediterranean region through the Lizard lands to the east. The transit trade alone brought the ruler of Azlanth a great deal of money, and on top of that, the city had excellent seafood and food production in the many flooded fields of the delta. The city also developed the production of fabrics. Again, from local raw materials.

And all these riches the mighty green dragon did not hoard in his cave, but invested in the development of his city. First of all, to create a powerful military and merchant fleet. During the lectures, the mentor had mentioned this topic, and now Gata reminded Cyril. Not so long ago (by the standards of elves), this city of lizards was attacked by one of the fleets of the Island Kingdom, but without the participation of their flagship. Whether by the grace of Calisto, or by skillful calculation and agent work, or both, the islanders managed to guess the moment when the winged ruler was not in the city, and to strike. At any rate, they had gotten to the lizard shores of the Middle Sea precisely by the grace of the Lady of the Seas, who had moved their fleet by her own miracle. What particularly infuriated the dragon, who rushed back, was that the islanders who had raided the city had managed to escape by the miracle of the sea goddess, taking with them a considerable amount of booty.

The Great Serpent had managed to repay them with skillful curses, or they had already laid on the stolen valuables as “insurance”. These details the catwoman did not know. But many people had heard about the fact that quite a few of the raiders had paid for that seemingly successful raid with their lives. As well as the fact that ever since then, Quarinis had been burning with a fierce hatred for the island followers of Calisto and had commanded his lizards to sink any of their ships. This is largely why he went to such lengths to build his own fleet. He had even begun to develop closer ties with the Forest in recent years. There was no question of a full-fledged alliance, but trade and business relations had warmed considerably, according to Gata.

And of course, against the background of all these numerous ships stood out the elven fleet. The White Fleet of the Forest, to be exact. Its ships were all made of white wood, and all of them were elegant and graceful, no matter whether they were military ships or merchant ships. The sails of all the ships were lush green. In White Harbor, they stood apart from all the other ships, occupying the space on the right side of the harbor as viewed from the hilltop of the Portal Complex. It was fenced off from the rest of the harbor by an additional breakwater wall running from the shore. The elven fleet, of course, had its own good stone wharves, a separate huge shipyard, and several docks. All of this was under the cover of a white stone fortress on the shore next to them and a tall, obviously magical, tower of the same white stone. It stood at the very edge of the natural promontory that formed the right edge of the harbor, at the very entrance to it. Thus, the magical tower controlled the entrance to the harbor, as well as all the ships within it.

And all these innumerable ships of all kinds did not stand idle for the most part. Some were docking, some were sailing, some were unloading, and some were loading. Both manually and with the help of magic. Cyrill could see with the help of his diadem both powerful cargo golems and levitating platforms moving from the wharves back to the ships, and chains of dozens of porters handing each other boxes, which were then loaded onto carts. Outside, in Elven Bay, the ships were somehow even more numerous than in White Harbor. Alone stood in the roadstead, others were waiting their turn to come in, others appeared to be engaged in fishing or some other trade, and others, on the contrary, were already leaving the city. Some ships in the harbor were undergoing repairs or routine maintenance. Cyrill could clearly distinguish numerous swarms of newts and mermaids in the clear water, moving from one ship to another. According to Gata, they were cleaning the bottoms of the ships from all kinds of marine filth that had built up on them. And they did it quickly and efficiently enough.

As far as Cyrill knew, it was also a constant headache for sailors on Earth. Here, as Gata had told him, ships also had the problem of ‘growing beards’, but usually small and medium-sized ships. Because a big ship is expensive. And if you can afford it, you can afford to enchant the bottom, or other methods of magical or alchemical protection. But the owners of small ships often preferred to use the services of fishmongers. As Gata had explained to Cyril, many coastal cities, including White Harbour, had their own Guilds, which were engaged in the water maintenance of ships, which was one of their main trades, along with the sea analogues of farming and cattle breeding. Or should we say fish farming?

The city itself was as impressive as the harbour and the bay, with its huge number of ships. From the hill where the Portal Complex was located, it was clearly visible that it had been built according to a clear urban plan, and not spontaneously, gradually and chaotically expanding. White Harbour was divided into Port, Guest, Residential, Trade and Elven parts, which were also called Forest. The Port part of the city, as it is easy to guess, was adjacent to the harbour and encompassed the whole harbour. It housed warehouses and all the infrastructure necessary to service such a huge number of ships. And also the navigation service, which was responsible for regulating their movement in and out of the harbour. It was located in a well-fortified lighthouse tower, which ended the artificial embankment wall that formed the left border of the harbour. The lighthouse tower stood directly opposite the magic tower, which was also of white stone. Together they formed a very beautiful architectural pair, especially when viewed from the high ground.

If Cyril had a smartphone, he would have taken selfies against their background. In general, most of the buildings in White Harbor were, who would have thought, white. Well, or at least a light shade, which looked very beautiful. Especially considering the fair number of sprawling trees planted in the streets in all parts of the city. The latter, according to Gata, were not only for beauty, but if necessary, could act as another line of defense for the city, supporting the soldiers of the Sea, or Coast Guard. Their barracks were in the white fortress that covered the elven fleet from the shore. And of course, in the Port part, there was the elven equivalent of the Customs and Border Guard, which welcomed all arriving guests and checked what or who they brought with them.

The guest part, when viewed from the elevated position, occupied the left side of the city and consisted of a dozen and a half walled quarters of varying size, height, and luxury. But also built strictly on a line, parallel-perpendicular. They housed the trade and diplomatic missions of the Lizards, the Eastern Empire, the Confederation, and other states of the lesser races. The first two were the largest and most luxurious, being natural palaces, albeit in very different styles. And all these representations were surrounded by another fortress wall, with moats and towers. It was built solely for the safety of the Forest's dear guests, of course, so that nothing would happen to them. And so that they wouldn't do anything foolish.

The residential part of the city occupied its right side, if you looked at it from the high ground. It consisted of neat and tidy rows of white stone buildings with tiled roofs. Five stories high. Like the guest part, they were all lined up as if on a ruler and formed clear and straight parallel-perpendicular streets. They were inhabited, as Gata had told Cyril, by the inhabitants of White Harbor from among the younger races that had, in Earth terms, the citizenship of the Forest. Mostly human, but there were some beastmen as well. The same catgirl, she said, had distant relatives from her maternal grandmother's side of the family living in White Harbor. Armina also had relatives in the city, but even more distant, who had been involved in the sea service.

Like the Guest part, the Residential part was surrounded by an adequate fortress wall, which formed both the outer boundary of the city and separated it from other parts. And within itself, it was also divided, but by smaller walls, into separate sectors. As Gata explained to Cyril, it was done for additional protection of the city, so that the enemy, if he managed to break through the outer line of defense, could not immediately seize the entire area. When the young man asked if White Harbor was often attacked, the maids shrugged their shoulders and said that in the history of the Forest, all sorts of things have happened, but the last really serious attack was a long time ago, as if not in the time of the last Great Horde.

Between the Guest and Residential parts of the city was the Commercial part, which was the largest part of the city. And it was, to the young man's eyes, one very large shopping center, partly in the open air. Large and solid buildings, all lined up as if in a linear pattern, neighbored with squares of various sizes, some of which were lined with rows of small stalls. A couple of rather large buildings of obvious cultic purpose stood out against the background. The temples of the Oath Keeper and the Life Giver, Gatha explained to the young man. There was a long line for the former, as far as he could see from this distance. It was obvious that the services of this celestial were in great demand among the merchants.

When Cyril asked if there were other temples in the city, the cat lady shook her head and answered that there were no temples. There are shrines of the Lady of the Seas, but they are all located on the territories of trade and diplomatic missions, given the strained relations between the elves and Calisto. And there is also the sanctuary of Lortan, Armina added unexpectedly, but it is not so easy to get into it, considering the main aspects of the patron saint of thieves and spies. Hearing this, Cyril immediately enquired: What was the situation with crime in the city? Somehow, he hadn't bothered to ask about it at the preliminary briefing. In response, both maids almost synchronously grudgingly grinned, but honestly answered that there were Lortan's followers in the city, but not many, as the elves strictly watched the order in the city. Most of the crime is committed by visitors from the lesser races, hoping to leave on their ships before the city guards, or worse, the elven guards, catch them.

However, Gata added with a disgruntled face, some local thieves operate in White Harbour regularly. Not many, but all of them are highly skilled, which allows them to successfully hide from the city guards. Cyril grinned and replied that he would rather believe that they were successfully hiding because of the patronage of someone in the guard. The catwoman nodded in agreement and confirmed that the practice of recruiting really talented representatives of the underworld does take place. But after such recruitment, their activities are very strictly controlled. And Armina added, throwing a glance at the Guest part of the city, that it is much more likely to be patronised not by the city guards, but by someone from the lesser races. At any rate, the maids did not doubt that the same envoy of the Rising Empire had his lurkers. Otherwise, he would have been a very bad envoy, and the current Emperor of the East did not tolerate incompetent officials in such high positions.

There was also a solid-sized stationary portal in the Trade Part. Its massive stone arch was only slightly smaller than the Arc de Triomphe in his native Moscow and slightly wider. It was separated from the rest of the city by a solid square wall, with powerful towers at the corners, and surrounded by a moat of water. It was like a separate fortress in the city. But at the same time, in the walls surrounding the portal, there were wide enough gates with good suspension bridges on the two opposite sides, which faced the front and back sides of the arch. They led out into two long and wide streets. Or rather, it was one straight and wide street stretching through the whole Trade Part, which was blocked by the fortifications surrounding the portal. At the moment, the gates were closed, the bridges were raised, and the portal itself was inactive, although Cyril's magical vision even from this distance distinguished the glow of the sleeping weaves in it. But one side of the street, which was closer to the harbour, was full of people. Nearly a hundred different carts loaded to the top with crates, barrels, whatnot, and hundreds, if not thousands, of attendants. All of them lined up, waiting for the portal to open. There was almost no one on the other side of the street.

As Gata had explained to Cyril, stationary long-distance portals were not only an instantaneous travel option, but also a hell of a headache. Regular maintenance, scheduling of openings, and closings were not the easiest things to do. The elves had been diligently fine-tuning the mechanism of its operation for centuries, but still, there were regularly various minor or major glitches. It was urgent to change the point of movement, because it was necessary to send something somewhere in a hurry. Right now, immediately, otherwise it's a disaster! This inevitably shifts the work schedule, because of which there are delays, and no one likes delays, especially representatives of Trading Houses and Guilds that have paid for their passes in advance. Then there are some malfunctions at the exit point, and they can't receive the guests. Then the portal attendants do not coordinate the opening process with their colleagues, and the entry and exit points in the portal arches get mixed up. And it is good if they notice it in time, or it happens that hundreds of people rushing into the portal with laden carts collide head-on with the same crowd rushing towards them.

What starts in these cases is hard to describe in decent words. Screaming, swearing, promises of every conceivable and unthinkable kar, including divine ones. This is aggravated by the fact that all city portals are always surrounded by at least some kind of fortifications. The portal is not only a very convenient means of instant long-distance travel, but also a threat of invasion. That's why, always and everywhere, there is inevitably a conflict between the desire to ensure maximum throughput, because time is literally money in this case, and the desire to protect themselves as safely as possible from potential uninvited guests. So, in case of collision of flows, it is very difficult to make up, which leads to crowding and crushing.

The last time it had happened in White Harbor was a long time ago, because the elves were very careful and strict about the operation of their portals. Because of that, according to the cat lady, many of the younger races preferred to use the White Harbor portal to travel between the eastern and western lands. Gata also added that for decades, there had been discussions about creating a pair of sea portals in Morgrave and White Harbor, so that entire ships could pass through them. The idea is extremely ambitious, but costly and complicated, as a sea portal is much more complex than a land portal. In addition, the recent islander raid on Morgrave has hurt these plans. But the Forest hasn't given up on them completely.

Cyril looked at the Trade part of the city, where, despite the first half of the day, life was already in full swing, and there were crowds of humans and non-humans in the streets and squares. He turned his gaze to the Forest or Elven part of the city. It ran in a strip along Guest, Trade, and Residential, being farthest from the shore of the bay and partly going directly into the forest. Meaning forest, not Forest. Beyond it began a solid wall of huge centuries-old trees, partially growing in the Elven part of the city as well. About two dozen buildings of white stone, each of which was a masterpiece of architecture and pulled either a very large mansion or a small palace, were buried in a variety of greenery. Each building was surrounded by a separate wall, as were the representations of the lesser races, and another wall, the strongest and tallest in the city, surrounded the entire perimeter of the Forest Part.

This was the city's mayor's office, the offices of the Treasury and the Emissary Corps, as well as the barracks of the Forest Guard. And another magical tower, also built of light stone, but beige, not pure white, as the one that covered the entrance to the harbor and the elven fleet. The Portal Complex, through which Cyril and the girls arrived, was also located on the territory of the Elven Part, approximately in the center of it.

After admiring the city a bit more, which was helped by the beautiful weather, Cyril turned to Gata and Armina and asked:

"Well then, shall we get started?"

Both maids nodded in unison and replied:

"As you wish, sir."

* * *

On the hill in front of the Portal Complex, there was a platform, carefully paved with stone, from which a gentle serpentine road descended. Various cabmen were constantly on duty on this platform, bringing and taking away important guests. When Cyril came out of the gate, the woman who was ahead of him was just getting into a huge carriage, which could be a full-fledged bus. It was easy to guess how this marvel of engineering was pulled by only a couple of horses, albeit incredibly big ones, by looking at it with a magic vision. The entire carriage was literally shimmering with magical light. Among the dozens of weaves embedded in it, there must have been a couple that made it easier to move by reducing its weight. Or even by making the wheels spin on their own. Cyril wasn't sure, but as far as he could tell, the latter were obviously enchanted for more than just strength and durability.

It is clear that such a miracle was an exception. Most likely waiting in advance for the lady (I wonder who she was?), the other vehicles waiting for passengers were much more modest against her background. Mostly, they were ordinary open-top carriages, the likes of which Cyirill met in the parks of his native city. All white, with green seats, they stood in straight rows while their drivers, all dressed in elegant dark green clothes, waited their turn to receive a client. As Gata whispered quietly to the young man, they were employees of the city's Transporters' Guild, from among the city's residents. But in addition to them, there were also a couple of rickshaws, with slanting drivers, and even a few palanquins, one of which was carried by two dozen porters in Caliphate garb. These vehicles, as cat lady explained, were the personal means of transportation of some of the city's guests, for which a separate, and not small, tax was paid. They were personal. The Elven-backed Transporters' Guild did not allow anyone else to be a commercial driver. A trio of foremen, all human, dressed in white and green robes, were on duty next to her cabmen. Looking at this picture, Cyrill thought that nothing is new under the Sun. Replace portals with airplanes, and carriages with cars, and you would get the same airport.

When the young man had finished admiring the city, Armina approached the foremen and had a word with them. The eldest of them nodded to her, gave a short signal to one of the coachmen sitting on the seat of the last carriage drawn by a pair of horses, and he immediately drove up to Cyril, who was waiting a little away. As Gata had explained to him in advance, it would be somewhat... not that indecent, but rather out of character. When the coachman, a middle-aged man in impeccably clean dark green clothes, arrived at Cyrill's door, he immediately jumped down and opened the carriage door, standing in a bow.

Nodding slightly in response, Cyrill climbed inside with the girls. It wasn't that he couldn't open the door himself, but again, he had to keep up the image and the legend. If a young half-elf, obviously well-to-do and unambiguously gifted, WILLINGLY went to open the door to the carriage, it would cause legitimate surprise to everyone around. After all, in many respects, a class society, multiplied by the existence of magic, is not the Earth society of the twenty-first century. Though on the native Earth they would also be surprised to see a successful businessman, who arrived on a private plane, accompanied by a couple of escorts of model looks, personally dragging a heavy suitcase to a Bentley parked in a VIP-parking lot.

If Cyril had traveled as a vagrant without a normal clan and tribe, like many classic isekai, there would have been no questions. No, there would still be questions, just different ones. Where would a hobo get the money for a cabbie and an elite one? White, like the buildings of the city, the carriage was clean, literally scrubbed, and the seats, upholstered in soft green fabric, were spotless. There was no smell of horses, which also looked very well groomed, only a pleasant floral scent. Squinting his eyes and switching to magical vision, Cyrill immediately realized the reason: a pair of amulets on the horses, one for each of them, and another pair in the carriage doors.

But that lady's carriage probably had air conditioning, a mini-bar, and even music.... Well, the presence of magic makes life in the medieval world very comfortable. For those who can afford it. Having made himself comfortable on the back seat of the carriage, Cyril gently embraced the maids who sat on the sides of him. At the same time, the young man mentally did not grimace, but... even difficult to say. He felt a certain discomfort. All his relatively adult life, he had disliked, and he couldn't stand, the golden youth, children of rich parents, who at his age drove around in cars that cost more than his parents could earn in a lifetime. And in the company of whores, pardon me, escorts, that for one night received more than his mother for a whole year. And now he's practically indistinguishable from them. Yeah...

So, it's for the sake of the case, and in general, he has to stick to the legend, which was not his idea, but an intelligent experts from the Secret Guard of the elves! So there's nothing to complain about! While the young man was expressing his opinion to his own Conscience, the coachman, who had climbed back on the horses, asked politely in pure Elvish without the slightest accent:

"Where would the gentleman like to go?"

"The Trading Part."

Nodding, the coachman touched the horses, and the carriage, to the clatter of their hoofs, rushed down the gently snaking road to the foot of the hill.

"Does the gentleman wish to go to any particular place?" The man asked as they descended the hill and entered a very wide and beautifully paved street, which was shaded by sprawling, century-old trees.

After exchanging glances with Gata, Cyrill shrugged and replied:

"No, this is my first time in White Harbor. I want to see the city and relax."

"I see. In that case, if the gentleman wishes, I can recommend various worthy places where the gentleman can spend his time."

Apparently, cab drivers in all worlds like to talk, professional deformation, not otherwise. However, Cyril did not object and willingly listened to the cabbie, who really knew the city and most of its establishments very well. That, in principle, is logical. There are no Yandex-Navigators and Google-Everything, you need to orient yourself by memory. While the carriage rolled leisurely along the Forest part of White Harbor, the coachman listed Cyril a dozen places that could interest him. In the first place, he recommended visiting the Central Trade Square, where the largest and richest trade offices of the foreigners were located, where one could find almost any kind of goods. At Cyril's question whether they should not be in the Guest Part, the coachman shook his head and willingly answered that traders and diplomats lived in the Guest Part. And according to the laws of White Harbor, one can only engage in direct trade in the Trade Part. And in its Central Square, there are the best trading houses, where you can buy various, including very exotic overseas goods.

If Cyril wanted to have fun, he should visit the local Theater Complex, where different performances were given every week. There was another one scheduled for tonight. This time, according to the coachman, the greatest interest was in the promised performance of gizard trainers and their pack of rats. Gata answered Cyril's question, explaining that they were medium-sized predators living in the Great Jungle, resembling something between a bird of prey and a predatory lizard running on two legs. They're quite intelligent, hunt in packs, and large enough and mature individuals often develop natural magical abilities that allow them to find lurking prey, as well as themselves to hide from the eyes of larger predators. They are known for their excellent instincts, sharp eyesight, and very beautiful and bright feathers, being a kind of analog of watchdogs among lizards. But training them is not easy, and few people other than the lizard folk can boast of this skill, which makes a well-trained pack of razkets very expensive. However, they can't stand cold weather, preferring only warm climates.

Even the coachman was impressed by this mini-lecture and confirmed it was true. Today, the White Harbour arena will be used by the lizard trainers who recently arrived in the city with the Azlanth merchant ships. Local artists will also be performing on the theatre complex's street stage today. He said a recent satirical production about the monstrously inappropriate events in Iyastar is particularly popular. Specifically, about what was going on in the barracks of their valiant Bright Paladins. Cyril almost jumped at such news, and even at first he did not believe it, but the man, without distracting himself from driving the horses, vowed to assure the young gentleman that everything was exactly as it was. He even added that the director of the play, as well as all the main actors of the troupe, had been officially anathematised in the Northern Theocracy as defamatory to the cause of the Eternal Sun, about which the sun-worshippers had sent an official bull through the Forest. This only added to the popularity of the production.

After hearing this story, Cyril thought that if the celestials had not been a real force on Beryadon, he would have thought that the clerics of the sun-worshippers were playing into the hands of the artists on purpose, fuelling interest in the production. In exchange for a share of the profits from the performances, of course. In any case, on his native Earth, he would not have been surprised at all. Here... the Supreme might not understand and send some Archangel Michael with a sun-light sabre. He will explain that not all methods of making money are acceptable, even if they are all for a good cause.

In addition to the theatre complex and, as the Earthlings would say, local brand shops, the coachman recommended Cyrill several excellent restaurants where one could enjoy both exquisite elven cuisine and foreign dishes. And he said exactly so - restaurants, not taverns or inns. He also rather tactfully offered Cyril several decent inns where the young man could stay with his companions. And where they would not be disturbed by strangers.

After listening to the cab driver, whom one really wanted to call a taxi driver, Cyrill briefly exchanged glances with Gata and ordered them to go to the Central Trading Square.

* * *

At the exit from the Elven part of the city, the guards, consisting mostly of humans, did not delay them in any way, checking mostly those who wanted to enter the part of the city where the firstborn lived and worked. And if it was relatively quiet and calm, then as soon as they were in the Trade section, Cyril felt as if he had entered another world, much noisier and livelier. The streets were full of all kinds of people, hurrying somewhere on their business, or strolling leisurely. People of all kinds, both in appearance and dress, lizards and beastmen of all sorts - Kirill had never seen such a motley crowd of people since he had come to his senses. His social circle had been very limited since his awakening.

And this was, in fact, the very outskirts of the Trade District! As Cyril's carriage moved toward the Central Market Square, the streets became more and more crowded with people and non-humans, as did the oncoming and passing traffic, mostly white carriages, though there were also carts loaded with goods. Also, by the way, mostly white. Fortunately, the streets in White Harbor were wide enough, arranged strictly parallel-perpendicular, and the movement of carriages, wagons, and carts was clearly regulated. So their carriage moved forward, though not too quickly, but without delay. It was for the best, however. The young man did not hesitate to look around, curious about the city, its inhabitants, and visitors. The first thing that caught his eye was cleanliness and neatness. He remembered from his history lessons that in the medieval cities of Europe, garbage collection had been... very difficult, let's call it that. Like throwing slop out of windows. There was nothing like that in White Harbor; the carefully paved street Cyril was driving along was licked clean!

No stumps, no scraps, no horse shit, no other human or non-human waste. As Gata quietly explained to the young man, the city had a well-established garbage collection and disposal service, and the fines for failure to comply with what they would call on Earth sanitary requirements were brutal. It was strictly forbidden to throw garbage into the streets or to dump waste into the harbor. The latter was especially closely monitored by the representatives of the clan of fishermen who lived near the shores of White Harbor and were in a vassal relationship with the Forest. Because it was no fun to swim in the slop. There was a sewage system in the city, but it did not go out to the sea, but to separate lagoons outside the city, where everything was thoroughly cleaned, and the waste was eliminated by accelerated decomposition. It was, in fact, a separate service, under the auspices of one of the druid circles that emphasized the development of these aspects of nature.

When Cyril quietly asked if there were many elves willing to do such dirty work, Gata quietly answered that there were enough of them to dispose of waste in the whole Forest, and they were mostly in leadership positions. And that for the “specifics” of their labor, they receive a number of privileges, both in receiving resources for personal practice, and in granting more frequent and longer vacations in places like ++Azure Works. And members of the lesser races receive, on average, a relatively higher allowance than their counterparts in the same Transporters Guild. But it doesn't save them from all sorts of jokes, Armina added quietly, which earned her a reproachful look from the cat lady. However, Gata confirmed this is indeed the case, but the Secret Guar does not allow trusting such an activity entirely to the representatives of lesser races. Because such “purification facilities” are very fond of representatives of the Night Guilds to get rid of traces of their activities. And it's also possible to grow some nasty stuff under their cover, then launch it into the city.

From these words in Cyril's mind, the image of a shit-demon storming the white and polished city of elves involuntarily appeared. Grinning, the young man continued to look at its streets and passersby. And which was also its distinctive feature, because the second thing that caught Cyrill's eye was the complete absence of beggars and the homeless. Not a single frankly homeless person Cyril saw anywhere along the way. Someone could be dressed quite simply, but necessarily neat and clean. The explanation was also very simple. Although the city was open to the younger races, it was still an elven city. And the elves were very strict about order in it. Vagrancy and begging were strictly forbidden. But prohibitions alone, as you know, are not enough, and in White Harbor, they were reinforced by the fact that humans or non-humans, who could start doing it, simply had no place to come from. All residents of the city who held 'citizenship' of the Forest, as well as their children, were carefully accounted for and fully provided for. If any of the guests of the town, who were also strictly accounted for upon entry, with very few exceptions, found themselves without means of subsistence, such as, for example, a sailor who had fallen behind on his ship, they were either sent out of White Harbor on the first suitable ship or put to work. The former, however, happened much more often, as the elves did not hire just anyone for their service. So there was no place for vagrants or beggars in the city. The city guards were very strict about it.

He had seen the latter several times as Cyril's carriage traveled toward the Central Trade Square, patrolling the city in groups of ten. Mostly human, though he'd seen beastmen and even one dwarf in each group. The latter, though, according to Gata, were very few in the city. Bearded, burly men in general were relatively rare on the surface. All the guards were in good, polished armor and well-equipped with protective and combat amulets, in addition to cold weapons. Not as good as the ones Cyril had, but it was still obvious that the elves had not skimped on equipping the city guards.

Aside from them, by the way, Cyril hardly noticed any armed humans or non-humans. Gata quietly explained that the right to bear arms in White Harbor was quite strictly regulated. It required a special permit issued by the city guard. That, however, does not apply to the personal protection of high-ranking guests of the city, especially those with the status of envoys or emissaries. A separate headache, according to the cat lady, in this regard has always been strong gifted ones, who themselves are a weapon. When Cyril asked if his wand was a weapon and if he had to get a permit, Gata said no. The documents issued to him stated that he was a full-fledged inhabitant of the Forest, gifted and with a patent to practice. That automatically transferred his personal wand from the category of weapon to the category of tool, which, in turn, does not require a permit to carry it. But to use it, that's another matter...

Thinking about the complexity of the local laws, which, as it turned out, were enough, Cyril didn't even notice how the carriage reached the Central Trade Square. Its size was decent, as big as a good soccer stadium of strictly rectangular shape. In the very center of the square stood a decent-sized fountain, and along the perimeter, as the coachman had said, were the buildings of the richest trade missions. Each was five stories high, and each one was built and decorated in its own style. The Lizard trade mission, built of massive blocks of sand-colored stone, stylized as a truncated step pyramid covered with numerous complex reliefs, was not to be confused with the building of a joint representation of several Free Cities of the Confederation. The latter looked like a light-colored stone building richly decorated with bas-reliefs, and would have looked quite appropriate in some rich European city of the eighteenth century.

The Eastern Empire's representative office, on the other hand, resembled a small Asian-style palace and was perhaps the largest in size. Next to it was the trade mission of the black southerners, which was dominated by rectangular forms, and whose outer walls were all painted with bright ornaments or pictures of various subjects. The square was full of people of all kinds. Someone was in a hurry, someone, on the contrary, was strolling quietly through it, someone was talking to someone about something in different languages. For a moment, it even seemed to Cyril that he was at some central subway station during rush hour. Or at a train station at the same time.

The coachman jumped down from his seat and opened the door for Cyril. He got out of the carriage, nodded to him, and personally handed him a full silver floren. After getting out of the carriage, the young man nodded to him and personally handed him a full silver floren. That was quite generous, as Gata had quietly whispered to him beforehand. The coachman, receiving the silver coin and realizing he was not asked for change, thanked the young man and wished him a good rest. After that, he picked up a new pair of passengers, a group of people of different ages, dressed according to the fashion of the Free Cities, and left with them. Cyril and his maids stood still for a moment, not knowing where exactly to go and where to start. Looking around, he looked at the fountain in the center of the square, which was surrounded by various people. And why not? Nodding to the girls, Cyril leisurely headed towards it. Contrary to some of his fears, he did not attract any unnecessary attention. No, the passers-by looked at him, but it was obvious that a half-elf in the company of a couple, albeit very pretty, maids in White Harbor would not surprise anyone.

There were more important and exotic characters. Like a very fat lizard with dark red scales and an outfit consisting mostly of jewelry and long bright feathers. Much of the jewelry was clearly gold. He sat in a luxurious one-place palanquin carried across the square by a dozen of his noticeably smaller kin, greenish scales with brown spots, wearing only vests and loincloths. The claws on their feet clacked rhythmically on the stones of the paving stones as they all moved as one, foot to foot. Or should he say, paw to paw?

The obviously not-so-simple lizard was accompanied by a foursome of natural giant lizards, some two meters tall. They looked like humanoid versions of large crocodiles, except their faces were not so elongated. Huge, muscular, with huge claws and fangs, they looked rather creepy, more like monsters than intelligent beings. At first glance, they had no armor or weapons, but looking at the giants with magical vision, Cyril noticed that their bracelets on the wrists of their mighty paws were battle amulets. Only not throwing fire or lightning, but, as far as he understood, forming energy blades or protective barriers. The people around them were looking at them more than at Cyril and his companions.

When he reached the fountain, which was a solid-sized sculpture, he froze, looking at it, and the girls took positions on the sides and a little behind him. Impressive, to say the least. The life-size sculptures depicted a dozen heroes who had become famous in the battles of the Great Horde, and not only elves. Of the ten figures, there were only six firstborn. Two were human, one was a wolf-type beastman, and another sculpture was a snake-man. All of them stood on a dais depicting fortress walls, at the foot of which lay the bodies of defeated enemies. Orcs, for the most part, but there were goblins, beastmen of all kinds, and ordinary humans. The latter, for the most part, were slant-eyed, though there were some beards that were never mongoloid. After circling the fountain and assessing it from all sides, the young man stopped in front of the sculpture depicting an elven woman. As he admired the incredibly detailed imagery, Gata, approaching him, quietly inquired:

"How are you feeling? Everything okay? Sir?"

Turning to the cat lady, the young man nodded in response:

"Quite. Everything is fine. Well, let's get started..."

Turning back to the fountain, Cyril pretended to continue admiring the statue of an elven heroine, clad in a robe and leaning on a tall carved staff. Quite an attractive elf. The bronze plaque mounted on the city wall beneath it read “Alinarel the Brilliant” in large, stylized letters. And in fact, Cyril began to create the weave-illusion as discreetly as possible. There were enough people and non-humans around. Someone was constantly coming to the fountain to throw a coin or two. Someone was leaving. Mostly they threw coppers, albeit full-value ones, but sometimes there were silver coins too. Apparently, this tradition is not unique to his native Earth, Cyril thought, without distracting himself from the creation of the weave. He had to do it as inconspicuously as possible, but what his patroness (praise, praise, praise, praise you, Greatest!) had given him at the School of Illusions was good at was inconspicuity.

A few minutes later, everything was ready. Cyril dipped his hand into his belt pouch, pulled another full silver floren from his wallet, and tossed it into the fountain. He thought how easy it was to spend money he hadn't earned. The coin glittered in the air and plunged into the clear water. At the same time, the faces of the sculptures of human warriors on the sides of the elven woman changed slightly. On the strong and strong-willed face of the one on the right, which had been smoothly shaved before, there appeared a pair of luxurious and dashingly twisted upward mustaches and a short beard. And the second human hero, to the left of the elf, on the contrary, his short beard and mustache disappeared, and his face became clean-shaven.

For a moment, Cyril stood motionless, even holding his breath. But nothing happened; no one around him noticed that the two human heroes had actually changed their faces. The illusion turned out to be excellent, almost imperceptible from the side in the magical vision. You need to look very closely to distinguish the weave. Nodding to the maids, Cyril slowly walked away from the fountain in the direction of the Trading Houses. Well, one is ready, nine more to go....

* * *

The next few hours, Cyril, accompanied by his maids, strolled leisurely through the Central Trade Square and the streets adjacent to it. He was busy creating the most imperceptible, but stable and realistic illusions. Mostly harmless illusions. To the building of the joint trade representative office of several Free Cities of the Confederation, he carefully added an extra small round window to the side wall. To one of the tall and spreading trees that overlooked the central square, he added an extra branch. And everything in a similar manner. Cyril didn't touch numerous signs, passers-by, or transportation on purpose, so as not to attract unnecessary attention, and he tried to create illusions as natural and unattractive as possible. The only thing he couldn't resist was adding stylized white letters “BLM” to the wall of the Ngabo-Khele trade office.

Gata and Armina didn't understand the meaning, thinking he was just creating another illusion, especially since the letters blended in with the complex colored patterns that covered the outer walls of the dark stone building. If you didn't look closely, you wouldn't even notice it at once. As compensation, Cyril looked into the office immediately afterwards. And also because, as far as he could assess from the outside, those entering it were not checked as closely as in other offices. And it was not about a couple of young men with curly hair, black as soot, standing at the entrance, dressed in bright yellow-green suits made of obviously expensive fabric. They opened the wide front doors to him without question, giving Cyril and his maids white smiles. And why not let in a well-dressed and gifted man, in the sense of a half-elf, obviously with money?

No, it was about the enchantments wrapping the main entrance. In general, all the businesses in the Central Trade Square were very well protected in all sorts of ways. All of the windows were covered with alarm strings, some reinforced with barriers. All the walls, especially the outer ones, were enchanted and reinforced with embedded amulets so that the outside could not know what was going on inside. Neither hearing nor seeing what was behind them was simply impossible. In addition, Cyril did not doubt that these walls could withstand a blow of magic, and quite a serious one at that. And of course, at the main entrance of each office, there were enough scanning systems of different types. Fortunately, as Gata explained to Cyril, they were primarily aimed at preventing someone from taking something out of the offices without paying for it. Or brought something blatantly dangerous with them. They were not looking to see who was entering the premises.

This was due to the fact, as the cat lady had explained to the young man in advance, that very serious humans and non-humans were regularly among the guests of these representations. At least in the publicly accessible parts of them, where goods were retailed. And it was fraught with danger for a gifted person of even the level of a strong adept like him to be “probed” with scanning magic. Because too much can be learned during such a scan, including things that outsiders should not know about. A glimpse of a thin body, existing protective amulets or artifacts. It was not customary for gifted people to show any of this.

As he stepped over the high threshold of the Ngabo-Khele representation, Cyril felt someone else's magic slipping over him. His heart twitched involuntarily, but it was all right, no alarms were raised, there were no questions for them, and he calmly walked forward. At once, it was as if he had entered another world. Inside, unlike the square where the sun was shining hot enough, it was quite comfortable, the air was fresh, magical lamps stylized as oil lamps illuminated the space with soft light, everything was very clean and beautiful. A little unusual after the interiors of the elves, but also very attractive. The floors were lined with carpets, and the walls were painted as brightly and unusually as outside. Cyril was sure that it was not only for beauty, but also the basis for some kind of magical weaving of a protective type. Or for some shamanic analog of it.

In its structure, the Ngabo-Khele office resembled an Earth Trade Center. At least on its first floor. The general space was divided into separate rooms, each of which presented its own goods. On the upper floors, as Gata explained to Cyril in advance, more serious and large trade deals were made, and it was possible to get there only by prior arrangement. There were relatively few people here, compared to what was going on in the square. And everyone was exceptionally well dressed; Cyril hadn't noticed a single even average visitor. And almost everyone was accompanied by a black employee of the representative office, in yellow-green clothes. Cyril, too, when he went inside, was immediately approached by a charming, dark-skinned girl dressed in a very elegant and colorful outfit, made of the same yellow-green fabric. Her skin was a little lighter than the boys at the entrance, and her hair, though coal-black, was straight rather than curly. His lips and nose were neater, too - a slight admixture of northern blood was evident. Smiling politely at the young man with the same white teeth as the boys at the entrance, she asked in pure Elvish what she could do for the honorable gentleman.

Having consulted with Gata and Armina beforehand, Cyril smiled back at her and politely replied that he had heard a lot about the incense her hot homeland was famous for and would like to buy some for himself and his companions. Ngaba, as the girl introduced herself, immediately smiled even wider and took him into one of the separate rooms where numerous shelves on the wall and tables were filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of pots, vials, bottles, candles, and boxes of aromatic sticks. The air, contrary to expectations, was even cleaner and fresher in this room, which was the result of a separate set of amulets, in the form of small masks of various kinds, hung on the walls. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman, more lushly shaped than Ngaba, but quite pretty. She had high-cropped, curly hair, luscious lips, and expressive dark eyes.

When Cyril looked at her, he immediately felt that she had not a strong but well-developed gift for magic. She greeted the young man, or rather the half-elf, with another snow-white smile. She could be sent to her native Earth to star in a toothpaste commercial right now. Maybe it was the contrast with her dark skin, though. Uonga, like Ngaba, was dressed in an elegant yellow-green outfit, but in addition to it, she wore many beads, which, judging by the faint glow in her magical vision, were not very strong, but a complex set of amulets that helped her in her work. She spoke Elvish quite well, but with a noticeable accent. When she learned of the wish of the honored guest, the woman literally blossomed and showered Cyril with a dozen questions. What fragrances does the honorable gentleman prefer? In what form does he prefer them? Candles, oils, powders, sticks? For what purpose? Simply to enjoy the scent, to soothe the body, or the mind? Or, on the contrary, to ignite passion? Some will aid in certain magical practices. If an honorable, gifted gentleman is learning the hard way to communicate with the inhabitants of the invisible world, there are some perfect offerings to them. No? I see. The gentleman is practicing classical magic, then these scents, which speed up the recovery of strength, especially for those close to Fire, will be perfect for him. And these would be perfect for those who understand the power of the Wind.

Very quickly, the young man realized that he had fallen into the hands of a real expert in the field of sales, who also knew a lot about the product he was selling. However, this suited him just fine, so he willingly answered Uonga's questions, tried the fragrances she offered, and consulted with Armina and Gata. In short, he was in no hurry to go anywhere and chose as responsibly as possible. Moreover, the choice was excellent, and it was not for nothing that Uonga asked so many questions, trying to please the honorable gentleman. Different flavors, different shapes, different purposes, and all in different combinations. And to make it more fun to choose, he couldn't resist using Master's gift again. Twice.

And if Ngaba, who was escorting Cyril, didn't have much shape, and just opened her outfit for a couple of minutes, showing a pair of very nice black tits with small nipples, Uonga had something to show. And therefore, the effect of the token on her was more powerful. Not stopping smiling and praising and recommending her goods, the woman exposed her breasts in front of Cyril, the size of which was only slightly inferior to Diantrel's tits. And even condescendingly allowed the “charming gentleman” to evaluate her twins, which Cyril did with pleasure.

And all this in front of the maids and other visitors to the office who were passing by the incense room. No one paid any attention to the iniquity going on. Having squeezed, stroked and lifted Uonga's firm black tits several times, Cyril, trying not to pay attention to the strange sounds his Conscience was making, showered the saleswoman with compliments. She gave him an even more radiant smile in return and, as he was sure, thanked him sincerely. Though she didn't realize the situation, the young man remained firmly convinced she was flattered by the handsome half-elf's attention.

But nothing lasts forever, especially not the token, so after about eight minutes, Uonga cleaned herself up, and Cyril, by controlling the internal energies, fixed himself up. In other words, he got rid of his erection, after which they continued to try various incenses as if nothing had happened. In the end, the young man spent more than half an hour choosing what to buy, opting for a set of scented candles that emitted a pleasant odor, reminiscent of incense, and actually stimulated a bit of reserve recovery. And four vials of various aromatic oils, which, according to Uonga's assurances, would not only delight the lord with their fragrance but also make the skin of his lovely companions incredibly smooth and silky. And also help in arousing passion,” she added, casting a sly glance at Gata and Armina, which caused the latter to chuckle.

In general, at first Cyril was not going to buy these oils, at least four at once, but then an image of him diligently smearing them on his mentor's tits appeared in his head. The idea of combining them with the token he received from the Master was impossibly tempting, and Cyril very naturally pretended to give in to Uonga's entreaties. After a little bargaining for the sake of propriety, he paid for all the purchases with two dozen full silver pieces. florins, which was actually a decent sum. But on the other hand, the goods he bought were not cheap. Then again, Conscience had squeaked something in there about compensation for the unauthorized appraisal of black tits. It seems. Cyril wasn't entirely sure he'd heard it correctly. Saying goodbye to the smiling Ngaba and Uonga, who had packed all the incense in a safe little bundle that Armina had stowed away in her bag with extra space and promising to visit them again, Cyril left the Ngabo-Khele office, re-entering the Central Market Square.

The magic slid over him on the way out, more intently, making his heart twitch for a moment, but nothing happened. Once outside, he exhaled a sigh of relief and wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. Having moved a little aside from the crowds of people, Cyril ran a wave of his magic through the energy channels several times, having performed an analog of magical gymnastics. Gata and Armina, who were not a step away from him, quickly glanced at each other, and the cat-lady asked quietly:

"Are you alright, sir?"

Nodding to her, Cirill replied:

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just need to get some rest. They've got a good defense at the entrance, and it's obviously multi-stage. You wouldn't know it at first glance. It's good that it was easier inside... But on the way out, it took a lot of effort... Okay, let's keep going...."

After visiting the Ngabo-Khele office in the Central Trade Square, Cyril and his maids made a leisurely lap around the square. It was already lunchtime, but there was no time for a proper meal, so they went to a small shop on the corner of one of the side streets facing the square. It was selling the local analogs of ice cream, namely frozen fruits and berries, thanks to the whole complexes of quality cooling weaves, which were supervised by a gifted seller. The level of a quite strong apprentice, by the way. Given the hot weather, there were plenty of visitors to the shop, but fortunately, the trade was brisk and the queue moved quickly. While Cyril was waiting for his turn, he even managed to unnoticeably create another illusion, adding a couple of ripe cherries to the fruits depicted on the walls of the shop. They were completely invisible against the general background.

He took them for himself and the maids, along with the local strawberries. They were tasty, sweet, and, most importantly, cold. The young man left the shop, returning to the Central Trade Square. After conferring with the girls, he headed towards the representative office of the Rising Empire. A dozen slanted young men in identical black robes, embroidered with gold around the edges, greeted him at the entrance. Greeting him in pure Elvish, they opened the doors and bowed synchronously. Cyril was sure that the eyes of at least two of them were looking at someone else. Because all the gatekeepers were deprived of the gift of magic, but the two he noticed were clearly looking at the guests with magical vision. And they didn't have any amulets visible. Interesting...

However, the thoughts about the subtleties of the Eastern magical practices here flew out of the young man's head as soon as he crossed the threshold of the office. As he took a step, he felt as if he were walking through a wall of water. His heart twitched again for a moment, but thank the Balancing One of All Worlds, it was all right and no one noticed. Inside the Eastern Empire's office, it was much the same as the Ngabo-Khele office, only with an adjustment for the local Asian style. And the size! There were more stalls on the first floor selling goods brought from the East. But just like in the representation of local negroes, when Cyril went inside, he was approached by a smiling, slanting girl in an elegant black outfit embroidered with gold. She was quite pretty, petite, with long, straight, pitch-black hair gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head and held in place by three bobby pins.

After bowing to the honorable gentleman, she introduced herself by the name Yun-Li, welcomed him to the territory of the Rising Empire, and inquired about the purpose of his visit. Did he wish to purchase some goods, or did he have a meeting with someone? She spoke in Elvish with virtually no accent. Having consulted Gata beforehand, Cyril told her that he had heard a lot about the incomparable skill of the weavers of the great Rising Empire. And that he wished to buy an outfit made of their world-famous silk. Yun-Li smiled broadly and replied that they would be happy to fulfill his wish and asked him to follow her to the right shop.

There were more visitors here than in the Ngabo-Khele office, and Cyril was particularly impressed by the snake-like creature he met, which had a very long tail with black-red scales, three meters long. The human part of her body was dressed in a spacious outfit of snow-white cotton fabric, on which intricate patterns of marine themes were embroidered with red thread. Her face was obscured by a translucent veil. But one could fully appreciate her long black hair, gathered in two tight braids and reaching to her waist, where her snake-like body began. In the company of a couple of strong men, just like Chingachgooks, dressed in the same white and red cotton clothes, she was talking about something with the sellers of the shop where they sold various alchemical reagents. However, it was not possible to understand what exactly was said noticeably whispering snake-lady. As Gata had whispered to Cyril, they were speaking the language of the Gem Cities, but not the most common dialect.

For a moment, Cyrill had a funny idea to use the token on her, too, because the snake-lady had something to show, even the spacious clothes could not hide her prominent upper forms, but he smacked himself, even without Conscience's prompting. There would be no way to look and touch anyway, since they were going to another shop. So he moved on, and soon Yun-Li led him into a rather spacious room, where dozens of outfits of all kinds were hung, and on the shelves there were numerous cuts of silk of all colors. The older, slanted man who greeted them was not a very strong gifted one, at best an average apprentice. But his gift allowed him to use, as it turned out, a whole array of amulets and tools to aid in the tailor's craft.

With a couple of journeyman apprentices, only one of whom had a very poorly developed gift, he, having learnt what the young lord was interested in, bombarded Cyril with about as many questions as Uonga had earlier. What colour? What style? For every day or for special occasions? Does the gentleman want a ready-made outfit, or does he want to customise? After an hour and a half, the young man left the representative office of the Rising Empire with a much lighter purse, but with three outfits carefully packed in securely sealed bundles, also hidden in Armina's bag. One of them was a man's, made of dark blue silk, embroidered with silver at the edges, and looked like something between a robe and a kimono. It was already ready, and the master tailor, using his tools, had only slightly adjusted it to Cyril's figure. And he did it so skilfully that the suit fitted the young man perfectly.

The other two outfits were red silk and gold, like Japanese yukatas, and were for Gata and Armina. They, too, were ready-made and only needed a little adjustment to the girls' figures. That made Cyril a little tense as the girls changed behind the dressing room screens, but praise be to the Greatest, all was well. His request for a simple barrier that would only hide the girls from prying eyes was met with complete understanding, so no one noticed anything. In the end, he left the representative office of the Rising Empire in high spirits, and not only because of the excellent purchases, even if they lifted his spirits. Yes, yes, wastefulness, but the image of maids not in classic black and white dresses, but in oriental silk outfits was incredibly seductive, and Cyril could not resist. He managed to get out without any problems, though his heart started to throb again when he felt as if he had passed through a wall of water.

Once in the square, the young man walked leisurely around it for a few minutes, simultaneously doing magical gymnastics. When he came to his senses more or less, he nodded briefly to the maids:

"It's okay. Everything is fine. But I was pretty nervous during the fitting. It's good that they agreed to allow barriers to be created."

"I do not doubt that they could see through them, even if your magic deprived them of details, Gata said quietly."

"Do you think so?"

"I admit it. The inhabitants of the Rising Empire are famous for their love of secretly watching naked women."

"That's how... Okay, in any case, everything went well, and that's the main thing. So now we just need to wait until evening."

A look of relief mixed with worry flashed across Armina and Gata's faces. The catwoman approached the young man and quietly asked:

"Sir, are you sure you don't..."

"Yes, yes, everything is fine. I am practically not tired."

Smiling, the young man said in a cheerful voice:

"So let's just wait until the evening."

They looked at each other, nodded briefly, and the three of them left the Central Square at a leisurely pace, simply walking around the city. They didn't look in any shops, they didn't buy anything, they just walked around, literally killing the time they had left. Cyril's mood was, despite the certain fatigue, excellent. Because he, or rather, they, had done it! These thoughts literally warmed his soul and gave him strength. At some point, the trio came to another square, where there was trading in the open air. But here, there were not the usual stalls and benches. Practically none. For the reason that it was a live trade.

But not slaves, although there was also a slave market in the city, but all sorts of animals. In addition to relatively ordinary animals, there were also quite exotic creatures for sale here, including magical ones. Cyril, having briefly consulted with Gata and Armina, decided to take a walk through it, because there was a lot to see here. Or rather, at whom. In the part of the square where they went, there were various birds for sale, from small songbirds that could fit on a finger to a couple of large birds that looked like ostriches. Only larger, with very long and powerful beaks, bright red-yellow plumage, and very large and sharp claws on their feet and wing folds. And also very unkind, faintly glowing orange eyes, with which they stared unhappily at everyone who approached their cage. The metal bars of the cage were the basis for a powerful barrier dome, which safely separated the birds from potential buyers and their sellers.

The reason for such a powerful magical defence became clear to Cyril just as he was passing by them. One of the obviously predatory birds opened its beak, made a sharp lunge with its head, from the tips of its head feathers to the tips of its long tail feathers ran a rapid wave of light, and then a thin but very hot jet of fire struck the barrier from its open beak. It was completely absorbed and dispersed by the barrier's protective weave, which was designed to resist fire. Having looked at it with a magic vision, while the seller, a fat black man in the company of a couple of strong black assistants, was loudly praising the birds in different languages, Cyril evaluated the quality of the defence. It was obvious that a professional was working.

Leaning over to Gata, Cyril quietly enquired what these birds were, and what they were for. It turned out that they live in the lands of black tribes, in the savannahs of the Southern continent, have a natural tendency to fire magic, because of which they are valued both as a source of alchemical reagents and as pets-familiars. Their meat is also considered a delicacy, especially beneficial to mages with a penchant for the fire element. After watching these hybrids of ostriches and phoenixes for a while, Cyril and his companions moved on to the local Pet Market. Where they traded, however, was far from only birds. The whole square was divided into separate sectors. In one sector, reptiles were traded, in another monkeys and apes, in the third one kitties, including a couple of local tigers, with tusks. There was a section where they sold various pedigree dogs, and in one place, they even sold a couple of medium-sized elephants, according to the black-skinned salesmen, perfectly trained.

Walking through the market, Cyril came to a group of lizards, around which a small crowd had gathered. A tall vendor, with bright green scales, yellow eyes with slit pupils, brightly coloured clothes heavily adorned with feathers, was praising his goods in fairly good Confederate. Namely, a rather large, as large as a medium-sized dog, horned lizard, resembling something between a chameleon and a Komodo dragon. It was sitting on a thick branch of a tree standing in a large pot on a flat cart, surrounded by a semi-transparent magical barrier. The lizard was whispering a little, telling the potential buyers gathered around it what a wonderful creature it was, with a whole set of useful properties based on its natural Illusion Magic.

Interested, the young man also decided to listen, watching the varan-chameleon, which was sitting motionless on a branch, rotating its bulging eyes in different directions, simultaneously shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. And not just shimmering, it seemed to glow, like the screen of a quality LCD TV. It was an interesting creature, and in magic vision it looked the same as in ordinary vision, but I couldn't see its thin body. And also from the first look at this miracle of nature, the received knowledge of the School of Illusions suggested to Cyril that its shimmering coloring is clearly not simple and definitely has a hypnotic effect. But for some reason, there is no effect... The answer he got directly from the seller, who told the audience that if it were not for the protective barrier, which also has a filtering function, the mesmerizing color of the chameleon could easily put the audience to sleep, or put them in a trance. Hmm... What if? Thinking about it, Cyril hesitated for a few seconds, and then decided. Actually, why not? Throwing a brief glance at Gata, who arched an eyebrow at him, Cyril set to work.

The young man pretended to be interested in listening to the lizard-seller, and began to weave the illusion carefully, trying to do it as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately, he had enough knowledge, including that of controlling internal energies. In about a minute, the weave was ready, and Cyril spent another couple of minutes putting it on the varan-chameleon through the protective barrier. Fortunately, he had enough knowledge, and illusionary magic weaves were extremely light and shaky by nature.

The lizard man continued to praise his living goods, telling very successfully at that moment what an unrivalled master of disguise this creature was, and how difficult it was to find them in the Great Jungle. As if confirming his words, at that moment, behind his back, the chameleon gradually became completely invisible, disappearing before the eyes of the audience, causing everyone to gasp in surprise and admiration. Those of the audience who had suitable amulets or were gifted switched to magical vision, but even with it, they could not see it. There were admiring compliments and even applause.

The lizard man, grinning broadly with its toothy maw, not yet realising the reason for what had happened, turned smoothly to his living commodity. And froze at half a word, not seeing him. Almost immediately, however, he regained his comprehension and began to praise the chameleon even more strongly. However, at the same time, he used the amulet hanging on his chest, which made his green eyes light up with magic fire. Then an even brighter one. Then his scaly face turned surprised, and then outright panic flashed across it. As he continued to praise the vanished chameleon, he simultaneously began to make signs with his tail to his assistants, who threw incomprehensible glances at each other and at his superior. Without waiting for it to end, Kirill, like the rest of the gifted, praised the chameleon's ability to disguise itself and left this part of the market. At the same time, he held back from smiling with all his might. Behind him, Gata and Armina exchanged meaningful glances.

* * *

They strolled around the local Pet Market for another hour, looking at all sorts of creatures, and then they left, heading towards the Portal Complex. There were all sorts of animals for sale on the other side of the market, but all of them were magically gifted, so there were plenty of people here, both potential buyers and those who wanted to look at the strange creatures. They moved leisurely, also looking at the live goods. And when Cyril, together with Gata and Armina, was already approaching the exit from the square, suddenly, from the side of them, there were loud shouts and screams. Long weeks, even months of training, when Diantrel raced the young man on the elven ranges, did not go in vain for Cyril. In an instant, he was already standing in a fighting stance, clutching the wand in his hand and covering himself and the maids with a magical barrier. The girls were immediately behind him, covering his sides. Gata and Armina were also clutching short battle wands, which appeared as if from nowhere. And then everything happened very quickly.

To Cyril's left, only a dozen meters away, on the paving stones of the square lay wriggling a young, slightly swarthy man in good light Caliphate-style clothes, pressing both palms to his face and trying to get rid of the thick and sticky black sludge that covered him. An empty metal cage of decent size and an open door lay beside him. There were a few screaming and frightened humans and a couple of non-humans standing next to it, and a couple of hissing and waving lizards could be seen behind a nearby counter with several similar metal cages holding various reptiles. Some were calling for help from guards, some from healers, one man, equally swarthy and also well dressed in Caliphate fashion, rushed to the aid of the writhing young man. A large lizard, about a meter and a half long, with green scales speckled with sand, was scurrying away from them on its hind legs, wagging its long tail. It had a huge, bright red collar around its neck and a mouth full of small but sharp teeth.

Cyril reacted instantly, a short swing of his wand, a practised formation of the weave, and... exactly a moment before a magical arrow would have come off his wand, the lizard turned its head slightly in his direction and spat a tight jet of sticky black slime. And it spat it right into the young man's face. But all the black muck safely splashed on the protective barrier Cyrill had put up, and began to hiss and smoke, flowing down it. But this gave the lizard a few seconds of time, during which it practically ran past the young man, heading just towards the exit from the market. Cyrill raised his wand again, intending to attack the fleeing infestation, but behind him, Gata shouted sharply:

"Don't kill! Barrier!"

Having received the usual command, the young man instantly changed the structure of the ready weave on reflexes, with a wave of his wand, created a barrier-dome around the lizard, which had already run away from him fifteen metres away, scaring away the oncoming market visitors. It flew into the barrier dome, bounced, rushed to the other side, crashed into the barrier again, emitted a loud hissing sound, mixed with a crackling sound, and spat a new portion of black slime in the direction of the nearest people, which also splashed helplessly on the magic barrier. However, in both cases, this slurry hit the barriers created by Cyril and began to vaporise with a hiss, at the same time noticeably draining their energy. But, fortunately, the amount of it was not enough to burn through the weaves created by the young man. But just in case, he strengthened the one behind which the lizard was raging, and the one behind which he was sheltering himself, extinguished, which caused the remnants of the slurry to fall on the paving stones of the square.

At that moment, there were cries for help again, and someone kept calling for the city guards. Cyril glanced quickly at Gata, then looked at the swarthy young man still writhing on the ground, trying to wipe the black slime from his face. In addition to his mate, one of the selling lizards was leaning over him. He hissed something in his native tongue through his fangs and tried to pour some liquid from an empty clay vial on the man's face. When it hit the black slurry, it made it foam violently and dissolve quickly. Cyril glanced once more at Gata, cursed mentally, and hurried to his aid without removing his wand.

"Step aside!"

The humans and non-humans gathered around the injured man, at the sight of a clearly gifted half-elf with a magic wand, and in the company of a couple of maids, also with magic wands, sprinted away, except for the human and lizard who were trying to help the injured man. They looked up and tried to say something, but Cyrill stopped them with a gesture and shouted in Elvish:

"Get his hands off his face! Quickly!"

The Lizard understood him, but the human obviously didn't, but Armina duplicated Cyril's order to him. The scream, combined with the appearance of the half-elf, whose eyes at that moment were burning with magical fire, clearly impressed them. Both of them grabbed the convulsing man in sync and yanked his hands away from his face, despite his protesting mooing. He couldn't scream properly because of the slurry that covered his mouth, even though it had partially foamed and dissolved due to the potion. Looking at him with his magical vision, Cyril raised his wand to form the necessary weave. Okay, get rid of this stuff first. Purification... Damn, it's so sticky and reluctant to give in to magic! Damn it, of course it's toxic! Looking at the thin bodies of the wounded, Cyril could clearly see how their subtle bodies were gradually darkening and extinguishing under the influence of the poison that was spreading rapidly through his body. If it was not neutralised, the boy would be dead in two minutes. Cyril took out a healing amulet from his bag with his left hand and handed it to Armina without looking, and ordered:

"First, cleanse and detox. Then restore. Quickly, he's poisoned and won't last long!"

The maid gave a quick glance at Gata, who was looking around with her magic wand at the ready, and then nodded before rushing to help the wounded man. She placed the amulet in the form of a small metal disc with inlaid transparent crystals on the injured man's chest and pressed it into his skin. The victim twitched, and the crystals began to darken rapidly, absorbing and neutralising the poison that had entered his bloodstream. Cyril managed to clean most of the poisonous stuff from his face with spot actions, the rest was done by the seller, generously pouring its liquid over the wounded man, which neutralised the remains of the poison, including on his hands. After that, Cyrill did the final cleaning, removing the last traces of black slime from the head of the victim. He was silently shocked by what he saw.

He looked horrible, as if his face had been put into hot coals and held there. The skin and flesh were charred in places, broken in places, peeling off in places, his eyes were gone, and it looked as if they were gone, as was the tip of his nose. There was surprisingly no blood. Ah, I see, that was the effect of the amulet, which had already begun the gradual repair of the damaged tissue. Only one amulet would not be enough... Having cursed in his mind, Cyril nodded to Armina, who looked at him questioningly, and handed her another amulet and a small vial with a healing and restorative composition. The maid silently accepted them and, dismissing the pale as death mate of the injured man, began to work. And at that moment, there was a loud stomping of feet, clanking of armour, and a sharp, demanding shout:

"What's going on here?!"

When Cyril turned round, he saw a dozen guards running up to the scene of the incident, taking him in a semicircle. They had their weapons, good battle wands, at the ready, as well as round metal shields with protective amulets embedded in them. And they looked at Cyril and his companions not at all friendly. It was just surprising, why should that be, he was saving a man's life here. And yes, for them he is standing with a combat wand in his hand, and at his feet lies a mutilated man. Fucking hell... Slowly raising his left hand with open palm forward, with his right Cyril intercepted the wand with two fingers, index and thumb, at the very tip of the hilt. So that it looked with its working end into the ground, thus demonstrating the goodness of his intentions. Cyril tried to speak calmly and politely, and said in clear Elvish:

"That lizard over there injured that poor guy. I'm just helping him."

As if wishing to confirm the young man's words, the poisonous viper, still locked by the barrier, emitted a loud hissing-stretching sound and accompanied it with another spit, but it was noticeably more liquid. The commander of the guards turned out to be a woman, and judging by her aura, she was gifted to the level of a weak adept or a strong apprentice. And as far as one could judge from the helmet that partially hid her face, she was quite a pretty woman. She looked at the lizard, at Cyril, at the victim, at Cyril again, now more closely, decided something, and said in a calm voice:

"Put away the wand, you will no longer need it, honorable one..."

“Cirial,” the young man introduced himself, slowly and carefully putting his staff back into his belt holster.

The weapons from Gata's and Armina's hands disappeared even earlier, as if they had never been there. He didn't even notice the moment when the brown-haired beauty was behind Cyril, covering him from behind. The guards, however, still kept their weapons at the ready, glancing unkindly at all the surrounding people, who had become noticeably fewer. Their commander, seeing that Cyril did not interfere with her, continued:

"Honorable Cirial, I would ask you to stay and answer a few questions about what happened here. It won't take long."

Then she took out a communication amulet from her belt, and holding it to her face, she quietly said, but Cirill heard her words:

"Seventeenth to Nest! Need a healer and priest of Damocar at the Animal Market, we've got a..."

"Watch out!"

Cyril's sharp shout made the guards tense up instantly again. He was again in the crosshairs, and their commander turned sharply towards him, ready for trouble. For a moment, she stared at the young man's hand, then looked at her feet, where Cyril was pointing, and then....

"Dammit!!!"

With a curse, she bounced to the side and started hopping on one foot, trying to pull off her good leather boot at the same time. She stepped into the black sludge that the lizard had spat at Cyril the first time. After pulling it off, she tossed it aside. When the boot fell on the paving stones, it continued to smoke and melt because of the slurry that had fallen on it. With one foot barefoot, the guard cast a murderous glance at the lizard. The lizard responded with another hissing-crackling sound. For some reason, Cyrill thought it was mocking and sneering.

* * *

In his native Mother Earth, Cyril would have spent the rest of the day, or even the whole night, while the law enforcement agencies were sorting out who was guilty or who was to be appointed as such. Here they were surprisingly prompt, the whole proceedings took a little over an hour, thanks to the priest of Damokar, who arrived quickly, accompanied by several other guards and a small portable altar. With his help, he quickly interviewed witnesses and victims, establishing a picture of what had happened. By this time, several other men, dressed in rather expensive Caliphate garb, had rushed to the scene of the near tragedy. As well as several obviously wealthy lizards, who were the bosses of the sellers of live goods. What pleasantly surprised the young man was the fact that no one yelled at each other, no threats, everyone behaved surprisingly correctly, politely answering the questions of the guards and the priest. They were extremely polite to him, too, especially after they checked his papers. The head guard became incredibly courteous. The explanation was very simple.

A young half-elf. Gifted, obviously loaded with money, with servants. And yet the document gives only a personal name, no family name. This says a lot to people who understand.. The senior guardian even politely offered Cyril to call representatives of the Forest Guard, if he wanted. The young man replied with a polite but firm refusal. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. He'd gotten into trouble in the middle of nowhere. In the end, it turned out as follows.

It was classic idleness mixed with bad luck and a pinch of clumsiness. The injured boy, who was even younger than Cyrill and turned out to be the nephew of the captain of a not the smallest ship under the flag of the Caliphate, had honestly bought a Dilafurelia (as the lizard was called) from the lizard sellers. He had bought it at the captain's request as a gift to their relatives, who were members of the Alchemists' Guild of the Caliphate, because the poisonous slime of these lizards was a very popular commodity. The lizard-traders honestly sold him the venomous reptile, which was sitting in a safe cage, and warned him that it was a dangerous predator and that he should be careful with it.

After the money had been paid, they handed the young man the enchanted cage with its occupant, with an amulet-key that turned off its defences and unlocked the locks. And which the captain's nephew had accidentally, when he took it in his hands, used by pressing the wrong analogue of the button intended for ungifted users. Thereby extinguishing the magical barriers and unlocking the cage lock. Of course, the lizard immediately sensed the loss of the barriers and spat its poison in the young man's face. He dropped the cage, it opened, and the lizard ran away. And if not for Cyrill's intervention, the boy would be dead now, and it is possible that not only he, but his uncle would be dealing not only with his dead nephew, but with the claims of the injured passers-by. Which might have been very different.....

It is clear that all this news did not bring joy to the captain of the ship, who came running to the aid of his nephew. He was a middle-aged man of quite an attractive oriental appearance, in good light clothes, sewn according to the Caliphate fashion, and with a whole set of good amulets of various purposes. It is obvious that he is a wealthy man, even if one does not know that he owns a whole ship. With a neatly groomed beard, curly, slightly grey hair, tanned skin, and keen dark eyes, he cast warmer glances at the dejected nephew as the picture became clearer. They became especially expressive when he realised that if it had not been for Cyril, his nephew would have been dead by now. It seemed to the young man that there was more fear than anger in the captain's gaze at that moment. The rescued young man obviously wanted to be somewhere very far away at that moment, and he dared not even look at his relative. Otherwise, though, the young man looked pretty good for someone who had nearly died a rather agonising death. He didn't even need the help of the healer, who examined the boy and just silently waved his hands. And looked very attentively at Cyril, who was standing aside. By the time he arrived, Cyril's alchemy and amulets had completely restored the face of the captain's nephew. Including both eyes. If the new skin hadn't been tan, it would have been impossible to realise he'd been injured. As it was, most of the boy's face was now a pink stain against the bronze of the surviving tan.

At the end of the proceedings, the only casualty was the commander of the guards, who had lost a boot. As compensation, she received a pair of new magnificent boots, hastily bought by one of the captain's assistants in a nearby shop, and a small sum in silver. Plus, the captain paid a fine for his subordinate and relative's disorderly conduct, which endangered the lives of others, as well as countless apologies to the shopkeepers, guards, and the honorable Mr. Ciriall, who had saved the life of his foolish nephew. Cyril politely but firmly refused any claims and compensation, which, by the way, surprised everyone. Although, as the same guard hinted to him several times, he could demand a good monetary compensation for his participation. Not bad, considering how badly the captain's nephew had been hurt. And it wouldn't be considered practicing without a license, she added with a glance at the healer who had arrived and remained idle. But the young man wanted more than anything to just get out of here and go home. But alas, it could not be done so easily.

Because when the guards, having made sure that the incident was over, left, and the unfortunate lizard was driven into the cage, the captain of the ship, who spoke Elvish very well, literally grabbed his nephew by the scruff of the neck, dragged him to Cyril, and threw him on his knees in front of him. He immediately bowed his head humbly, expressing his deepest remorse. The captain of the ship, too, bowed respectfully and began to shower the young man with thanks:

"Honourable Ciriall, please accept once again my sincere gratitude for saving my younger brother's foolish son, whom I decided to take to the sea with me only under the pressure of my mother's tears, so he could gain experience in the family business. Please allow me to thank you in more than words for the trouble you've gone to and the valuable potions and splendid amulets you've discharged! I arrived a few days ago from the Gem Cities and have not yet sold a quarter of the goods I brought! You may choose any of them you wish. I will give you all of them to choose from, and I will assure you of that on the altar of the Treaty Keeper! I assure you there will be some among them that will repay my nephew's trouble to you....."

All this flow of words poured out in a continuous river, and all the time while the captain was talking, his nephew was kneeling in front of Cyril, bowing his head almost to the paving stones. The young man took a moment to cut into this waterfall of words and said politely but firmly, hoping that he had pronounced the captain's name correctly:

"Honourable Shinda-Bah, I have heard you. Now, please hear me. I did not save and heal your nephew for a reward. I did it because I was there and because I could do it. And for that reason alone. You thanked me, I heard your words, that's good enough for me, I assure you. I don't intend to owe you or him anything."

Shinda-Bah was clearly taken aback for a moment, but only for a moment. He bowed once more to Cyrill, then straightened up and said:

Your selflessness honours you, honourable Cirialle. I have travelled many lands, and it is not often I have seen such generosity. But still, I beg you. Let me thank you a little. Not repaying such kindness is a sure way to turn Fortune away from me. Since you won't take anything I brought from faraway lands, let me at least treat you and your charming companions to dinner! Tonight I was planning to celebrate the conclusion of a good deal with my inner circle at the Singing Sirens, and was just about to head there when news of the near miss reached me. It is one of the best places in White Harbour where you can not only fill your belly with fine seafood, but also delight your ears with wonderful music and singing. I will be sincerely glad to see you and your companions as my guests this evening.

Cyril hesitated for a few seconds. Most of all, he wanted to politely but insistently refuse and return home. The good thing was that he had done everything that was necessary, except for this very return. But on the other hand, he could feel that the man sincerely wanted to thank him, and not just talk for the sake of politeness. And for his nephew, whom Shinda-Bah was ostentatiously tugging, he was very much worried, it was obvious. And the place he had mentioned to Cyril had been highly recommended by the coachman on his way to the Central Market Square. After a glance at Gata, the young man agreed:

"Okay, I accept your offer, honorable Shinda-Bah."

* * *

The Caliphate captain wasn't lying. The Singing Sirens was indeed a very popular place in White Harbour, and it was full of people, and extremely decent ones at that. If Shinda-Bah had not, as they would say on Earth, booked tables, Cyril would hardly have been able to get here, at least not right away. Simply because all the seats, although there were plenty of them, were taken. From the outside, the restaurant building, which really couldn't be called an inn, was practically no different from the others. Made of light-coloured stone, square in shape, four stories high, built strictly in line, it fitted perfectly into the general architecture of the city and did not stand out from the rest of the houses. But inside it was much more interesting! In the centre of it, there was a common free space going from the first to the last floor. And there was a high fountain-pool, in the form of a multi-stage rock, from the top of which water flowed continuously. And on the ledges of this rock sat, hanging fish tails, the most real sirens. And some of the sea-dwellers were very pretty and shapely, if we speak about the human part of the body. And it was possible to estimate their figures in full measure, as most of them had only jewellery in the form of necklaces and beads. Though some had vests-sleeveless jackets of bright colours, embroidered with all kinds of decorations. And as it was clear from the name of the place, the sea-dwellers were singing various songs for the guests, accompanied by several musicians, evenly arranged on the ground floor around the base of the pool-fountain. The acoustics inside the building were excellent, so that on each floor, where the seats for guests were located, both the music and the choral singing of the sea maidens were perfectly audible.

At the same time, the music and singing managed to be unobtrusive enough not to interfere with the conversations of the visitors. In terms of amenities, the Singing Sirens were much like restaurants on Earth. Instead of the usual chairs, there were low sofas with numerous cushions, and the tables were quite low. And in general, the atmosphere here caused Cyril's associations with the East, not the Far East, but the Near East. But then he noticed that it was only on the ground floor, on other floors the decoration was different. On the second in the style of the Free Cities, on the third in the style of the Rising Empire, and on the last in the elven style. The only thing in common was the cuisine, consisting mostly of seafood. Meaning, the Elven Gulf. Shinda-Bah had chosen and booked a very good place to celebrate the conclusion of a successful deal, on the ground floor, as close as possible to the fountain pool where the sea maidens were bathing and singing. When he and his guests arrived at the restaurant, the table was already set, with a table for Cyril and his maids. He and Gata and Armina were seated on one sofa, Shinda-Bah with his nephew and a couple of his closest assistants on the other, opposite them. The captain and his companions sat in the Turkish, or as they would say here, the Сhalifat way, with their feet up on the sofa. Between them on a low table on wide platters were spread numerous snacks and treats, and in a couple of jugs enchanted to cool the contents were waiting for guests, elven wines of several varieties. However, Cyril and his maids politely but firmly refused alcohol, which, however, was not a problem. The human young man in clean white and blue clothes embroidered with nautical patterns, who served them, immediately offered several options of fruit drinks, from which Cyril chose one that tasted like cherry-mint lemonade.

Of the snacks offered, the young man particularly liked the large and juicy local prawns, as thick and long as a normal sausage. Fried in oil, with salt and spices, they were simply delicious. Not inferior to them and small fish, reminiscent of sprat, which could be eaten whole. So very quickly, the young man finally stopped regretting that he had let himself be persuaded and accepted the captain's offer. Who, by the way, turned out to be a very interesting interlocutor, about whom an adventure film could be made on his native Earth. He was a seafarer and merchantman from Sakhib Nere, who had inherited from the retired captain a good, fast ship that his family had owned for four generations. It was, in general, not that uncommon amongst the maritime dynasties of Beriadon. Some ships, according to Shinda-Bah, had served their crews' families for centuries. And with proper care and handling, over the years, such vessels have become enormous floating artefacts with sometimes unique properties. The ‘Smile of Fortune’ had not yet become such a vessel, but it was moving steadily towards that status, and Shinda-Bah hoped that his grandchildren would enjoy the fruits of their ancestors' labours to the full. Unless, of course, someone would take him to the grave before his time.

The last was addressed to his nephew, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, quieter than water, lower than grass, and had not spoken a single word during the entire journey to the Singing Sirens. Beside him, Shinda-Bah was his first assistant, a sturdy, dark-skinned man about two meters tall, who introduced himself as Fehtan. He had a shiny, polished bald head, a massive gold earring in his ear, a manly face, broad shoulders, and muscular arms as thick as logs. He was dressed in Caliphate trousers of light-colored cloth and a sleeveless vest, which allowed him to fully appreciate his muscular muscles and powerful physique. The son of a black-skinned daughter of the far South and a Caliphate sailor, he had known Shinda-Bah since childhood, having sailed on the Smile of Fortune under the present captain's father. And, according to the merchant, they had helped each other out on long voyages more than once and more than twice. Shinda-Bah's second companion was a rather pretty middle-aged woman, with the same bronzed sea-tanned skin, clear face, expressive brown eyes, the same dark and curly loose shoulder-length hair as the captain's, and a slender figure. Shahal-Ana was the chief navigator and ship's mage of the Smile of Fortune, being the third person in the crew, after the captain and the first mate. And she was also one of Shinda-Bah's wives, which, when you thought about it, made sense. A ship couldn't go out into the open waters without a gifted person to guide it. The captain himself had a weak gift for magic; at best, he was an average apprentice. And letting an outsider magician into the holy of holies was too great a risk. It was another matter if this mage and the captain had very close ties, supported not only by magical and divine oaths, but also by common children, who, however, were too young to go to sea.

Shahal-Ana size was a little less than Gatha's, noticeably inferior to Diantrel's, but that didn't bother her. Good clothes made of bright white and blue fabric perfectly emphasized the slender waist and high chest of the chief navigator of the "Fortune's Smile", despite the fact that the cut differed little from the men's suits of Shinda-Bah and Fehtan. In any case, they did not resemble the outfits of the several obviously wealthy women from the Caliphate whom Cyril had seen this afternoon. Shahal-Ana was not embarrassed at all by his delicate question, and joked that the ship was all men in the middle of a raging sea. Cyrill estimated her strength, having a quick glance with his magic vision, at about half of his own, even taking into account the numerous amulets she had with her, most of them in the form of jewelry. But that was here on shore. Aboard his ship, as he suspected, Shahal-Ana was becoming as much as twice, if not three times as strong, being firmly attached to it. Even though she was not primarily specialized in water or air magic, but in spatial magic, according to her own words. And not the portal branch, but the one that allowed her to navigate among the vast open waters and keep the right course, avoiding the threats lurking in the sea. And there were enough threats in the sea, Cyrill listened with great interest to the stories about Shinda-Bah's travels, interrupted from time to time by another gratitude for the rescue of his nephew, whose name, as it turned out, was Karahim. And who, according to Shahal-Ana, was in fact a very clever boy who helped his uncle in all matters,

And Shinda-Bah had much business. The captain, who was not yet forty years old, had traveled through his native Midland Sea, along the entire coast of the Southern Continent and on to the Rising Empire, back to his native Sakhib Nere, through the Great Jungle, through the rivers, out to sea through the port of Azlanath, across the Southeastern Seas, through all the major Gem Cities. Now he was on his way home again. It is clear that having made such a journey and having remained not only alive, but also with the ship and goods, Shinda-Bah accumulated a great number of stories, which, under a good snack and pleasant singing of sirens, he willingly shared with Cyril and his maids. True, the young man suspected they had to be divided by three. Or even four. Or admit that the merchant's Dad, as the Beryadonian sailors said, ate out Calisto and Fortuna at the same time.

Because it was not easy to believe the story about how Shinda-Bah had escaped from the drakkar of one of the Ice Islands raider konungs by circling with them for an hour around the whirlpool-anomaly, which was expanding and pulling more and more into itself, neither was it easy to believe that they had taken a wrong turn through the Great Jungle into a tributary of one of the rivers there and, despite seemingly trusted lizard guides, had swam straight to a huge hive of giant wasps nesting in a wild magical spring, which had caused the insects to develop the rudiments of a hive mind. One might have suspected a deliberate ambush if the scaly guides hadn't been the first to be squeezed to death. Shinda-Bah was saved only by ingenuity and the sacrifice of part of the cargo. The surviving crew, crammed into the hold, hastily added dwarven vodka to a couple of barrels of elven (ELVEB!) wine and four jugs of selected honey, mixing it all up. The resulting sweet treat helped distract the wasps, who quickly became drunk and stopped paying attention to the strangers, who hurriedly left the wrong tributary of the river. As compensation, however, Shinda-Bah received several dozen of these wasps, which, having drunk themselves intoxicated, lay helplessly on the deck. According to him, the lizards buy back their stings, without even remembering the stubborn relatives.

The young man, in the sense of the half-elf, was also questioned, but rather delicately and unobtrusively. Still, as Cyril realised, such generosity and disinterestedness as he had shown in rescuing Karakhim was very rare. In addition, Shinda-Bah also noticed that Cyril introduced himself only by his personal name, without mentioning his clan name. Without going into unnecessary details, the young man told them his legend: the son of the firstborn and a mortal maiden, he was now being trained in the magical arts in the Forest. This clearly piqued the curiosity of the Caliphate's guests, but none of them insisted, evidently having drawn the same conclusions as the senior guard who had received a new pair of boots today. Once again, they showered the young man with thanks and compliments, praising his undoubted talent for magic.

The evening was going on. It was almost dark outside, the magic lights were on in the streets of White Harbour, but the life in the city didn't even think of subsiding, including the Singing Sirens. One dish replaced another, the sea maidens continued to sing songs in different languages and themes, one dish replaced another, and Cyrill was finally convinced that he had not accepted Shinda-Bah's offer in vain. At some point, even Karahim thawed after Cyrill encouraged the young man with the story of how he, when he had just started to learn magic sciences, had almost lost his life. He looked at his saviour incredulously at first, but when he heard the story about the storage rings given by his father, where Cyrill, inexperiencedly, almost drained all his reserve, he allowed himself a weak smile. However, for obvious reasons, he did not specify that it was a couple of months ago. Shahal-Ana told him how she had almost drowned herself when she had just started to learn magic, having formed the weave incorrectly, because of which the water from the bucket, having taken the form of a ball, instead of flying away in the right direction, covered her head.

To this, Fehtan told how they had gone fishing together with Shinda-Bah as teenagers in the harbour of Sakhib Nere. A white-tip shark was caught in their nets.

"It was big, it was struggling, I was trying to pull the net, the boat was tilting, Shinda-Bah was shouting to throw the net, and I was shouting at him: help me pull it! In the end, we almost overturned the boat and had to throw the net, for which we got so much trouble that we couldn't sit down for a week."

"You were the one who couldn't sit for a week," the merchant grinned, "my father whipped me so badly that I did everything standing up for a fortnight and slept only on my stomach."

"Because of the lost net?" Cyrill clarified.

"Because of a nearly lost heir," Shinda-Bah grinned even wider.

"This is a story I am definitely ready to believe."

"Oooh, be careful with such speeches, honourable Cirial, otherwise, doubting the stories of those who sail the high seas, you may one day lose a decent amount of money," the captain of the ship squinted slyly.

"I dare not question your stories, honourable Shinda-Bah, but the way sailors like to embellish their stories has become legendary."

"And some people use it to their advantage," Shinda-Bah smiled broadly. "They tell the most incredible stories, and when they are accused of lying, they skilfully lead the doubter to propose to test their truthfulness on the altar of the Treaty Keeper."

Is that so? I'll keep that in mind. And in that case, tell me, venerable Shinda-Bakh, what is your most incredible story?

The captain of the "Smile of Fortune" answered without blinking an eye, and became extremely serious:

"Meet with Soaring Above the Waves."

Cyrill did not understand the meaning of what was said, but Gata, who was sitting to his right, suddenly said seriously:

"Sir, I dare you to call the Oath Keepers' priests right away."

Throwing a mocking glance at her, Shinda-Bakh turned back to Cyrill and shook his head:

"Your maid must be upset with you in some way, honorable Ciriall, since she so strongly wants to lighten your pockets."

Folding her arms across her chest, the catwoman replied in a calm and cold voice:

The Soaring over Wave sank along with the rest of the Great Armada of the Isle Empire. The only ship of its kind built from the ruined Trees of Life that still sails the Middle Sea is the Sea Conqueror.

Turning again to Gata, Shinda-Bah leaned forward and, looking her straight in the eye, replied quite gravely:

"And I didn't deny, honorable, that he drowned. I said that I happened to meet him."

"And where?"

"When crossing the Southeastern Seas, going from the shores of the Rising Empire to the Gem Cities."

"Let me, I don't understand something," Cyril intervened in the forthcoming altercation, "how could you meet a ship that sank several centuries ago?"

"The same way that those who enter the ruins of the Dead Kingdoms these days meet their warriors who died and were consigned to the earth centuries ago,” Shinda-Bah replied calmly, continuing to look into Gata's eyes.

The cat lady was not impressed by these words, judging by her face, and she replied with the same skepticism:

"The stories of ghost ships, with crews that never found rest, began almost the same day the first land-dwellers ventured out into the vast seas. And I am prepared to admit that some are grounded in truth, not fiction multiplied by fears and superstition. But may I ask, honourable Shinda-Bah, what makes you so sure that it was the Soarin' Over the Waves and not some other ship that you encountered?"

“And I would be happy to know the details of this undoubtedly frightening and at the same time exciting meeting,” Cyrill managed to intervene in the conversation again, casting a reproachful glance at the cat-woman.

Gata, however, did not notice him, continuing to look into Shinda-Bahu's eyes. He withstood her gaze completely calmly, only smiled grimly, and settled down more comfortably on his sofa.

"I have been to a city that bears the proud name of the Heart of the Middle Sea. There I saw the flagship of the island kingdom, the "Sea Conqueror". It cannot be confused with anything else, it is... an incredible sight! I have never seen ships like it anywhere or anyone else. Even from afar, it makes an indelible impression."

Taking a sip of wine and nodding gratefully to the young waiter who had refilled the glass and who had been serving the dear guests very diligently all evening, Shinda-Bakh continued:

"On that black day, the Smile of Fortune once again lived up to the name given to it by my ancestor. It was a deep night, the moon was hidden by clouds, and only rare stars shone in the sky. The wind was light but fair, and it carried us to the shores of the Gem Cities, and by dawn, we should see them on the horizon. I personally stood at the helm, for Shalah-Ana had warned me at sunset that she had tasted the taste of human blood in the sea waters, and the sea winds carried to her the echo of human screams. The vast expanses of the seas hold many dangers, and not all are hidden beneath the water's surface. There will never be a shortage of men who want to take advantage of other people's goods under this sky, so I looked out into the darkness of the night, expecting to see the sails of Beryl Raiders or Azure Aspids."

Taking another sip, the merchant continued:

"But suddenly, instead, I saw something else in the night. The clouds parted, and the full moon illuminated the sea far ahead, in the midst of which I saw a huge ship, the like of which I had seen only once before in Kuordemar. It appeared as if from nowhere, illuminated by a grave green light. At the same moment, the fresh sea breeze was filled with the smell of death and rot, and the warmth of the Southeast Seas was replaced by a grave cold. And Smile of Fortune was coming straight at him under full sail. My heart sank with horror, and I realised that I would never again return to my native harbour, nor see my loved ones. As I learnt later, the same fear gripped everyone on the ship, even those asleep. I don't know whether it was the grace of the Lady of the Seas, or of the one whose name my ship bears, or something else, or all at once, but suddenly I was free of fear."

Having put the peeled shrimp into his mouth and chewed it, Shinda-Bah said:

And then I turned the ship aside and awakened all the powers that my clan had built up over generations, investing in the Smile of Fortune. Her sails were filled with a hurricane wind, and her weight became negligible, so she literally flew on small waves as she passed the cursed ship. And as we passed closest to it, I saw dozens of dead men and the wreckage of catamaran ships in the seawater. The grave-lighted dead were drawn toward it like a seine. My heart sank again with horror, and I could not take my eyes off the damned dead ship. And it was at that moment that I recognized the figure adorning its prow, representing the Lady of the Seas. Each of the ships of the Great Armada had its own figure, different from the others, and the one I saw on the dead ship I remembered for the rest of my life and recognized it by it.

Taking another sip of wine, the captain continued his story:

"But that was much afterwards. At that moment, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, I prayed incessantly to all the celestials whose names I could remember, and first of all to the Lady of the Seas, asking for help to get away, to escape from these cursed waters. I don't know if she heard my call for help or if someone else showed me mercy, but we were able to leave. I continued to drain the ship's stored strength until it was completely drained, which was an hour before dawn. And as the sun rose, I saw before me the Beryl City, which we had hoped to reach no sooner than noon. At first light, fear and horror let the rest of us go, and we found that all the food on the ship had rotted and rotten, and that the relic of the Lady of the Seas, which had been prayed for by the whole crew, had turned to dust and lost all grace. And coming ashore, we learnt that that night, more than a dozen ships under the banners of the Beryl, Azure, and Topaz Cities had gone without even a cry for help. So I'm not the only one who saw Soarin' Over the Waves. It's just that others will never tell anyone about it again."

Silence fell over the table. Even the boy waiter stood still with his jug in his hand, looking at Shinda-Bah with interest and a touch of fear. Gata, too, was looking at him with completely different eyes now. But before the cat lady could say anything, one of the local workers came to their table, swaying her hips, and in a very melodious and pleasant voice asked in Elvish:

"Do the honorable gentlemen wish to delight their ears with some special song? Or hear the voice of a certain sea-singer?"

Turning to the woman who approached, Cyril could not fully contain his surprise. The girl, or rather a young woman, was a little above average height and dressed in an outfit that resembled the bathing suits of the tutor and maids, only made of white and blue fabric. It was tightly fitted to her slender body, with wide hips and a very pleasing to the eye upper part. They were complemented by a luxurious waterfall of dark red straight and very thick hair, sapphire eyes the color of sea waves, snow-white pure skin and... flecks of dark red scales on her face, on her arms from wrists to elbow, and on her legs from ankles to knees. The girl was barefoot, her hair was damp, and her costume was soaking wet; her nipples were clearly visible, but no water dripped from her. A half-blood siren, Cyril guessed.

Shinda-Bakh looked at her, smiled broadly, and said in a voice completely different from the one he used when telling the story:

"Why not?"

Turning to the young man, he asked:

"Honorable Cirial, as my dear guest, would you like to choose a song or a performer?"

Smiling, the young man shook his head politely:

I am not a great connoisseur of songs, so I leave it entirely to your choice, honorable Shinda-Bah.

Well, in that case, let me think...

While the captain was choosing which song to order from the sirens, Cyril glanced at the beautiful half-blood. He wondered if her name was Ariel. That would be fun. Hmm. The young man's gaze involuntarily lingered on the girl's nipples showing through the wet fabric. Conscience let out a heavy and doomed sigh, but Cyril mentally sent it away and gave a mental command to use the token.

ERROR!

It is impossible to use "Awesome Melons" for this target!

For a few seconds, Cyril stared perplexedly at the lines of the system message. What the... Fuck! Cyril jumped to his feet, grabbed his wand, and started to form a weave. The kid waiter dropped the jug from his hands in surprise. Shinda-Bah and his companions involuntarily recoiled backward, huddling into the couch. The half-blood beauty cried out in fright and took a step back, goggling her eyes. Gata and Armina jumped to their feet as well, but before they could say anything, Cyril shouted loudly, simultaneously finishing the formation of the weave:

"Something is wrong!"

A moment, and their table, along with the half-blood siren who hadn't had time to move away, was covered by a solid barrier dome, into which Cyril had put almost a quarter of his reserve in one fell swoop. For a moment, there was almost complete silence in the restaurant. The orchestra stopped. The siren singers fell silent. Shinda-Bah and his companions stared at the half-elf, staring at them. Gata and Armina jumped to their feet and stood at his sides, covering him from the back, also not understanding anything, but pulled out their battle wands, taking them at the ready. The customers and employees of the restaurant, not realizing what was going on, opened their mouths and stared at the half-elf, covered by a magical barrier and with weapons at the ready. Someone started to get up from the table, some of the staff headed towards them, and someone started to ask something loudly. And then all hell broke loose.

It happened all at once, as if by a click. Here was a young man, dressed as a restaurant employee, standing with a tray in his hands on the couches with a group of Confederate-clad men. And here he is already thrusting a dagger into the throat of one of them, formed as if from black puffs of smoke right in his hand. Here is a venerable-looking, well-fed man with a rounded and slanting face, wearing the expensive clothes of a subject of the Rising Emperor, with a sharp movement of both hands, thrusts exactly the same daggers formed from smoke into the bellies of his companions, a well-fed and venerable slanting woman and a young boy. Also well-fed, slanting, and cheeky. A man of considerable age, carrying an order on a wide silver tray, in impeccable white and blue clothes of an employee, without straying from his step, put a dagger of black smoke into the back under the left shoulder blade of his colleague, who was staring at Cyril.

And it happened everywhere at once. On all floors of the Singing Sirens, which were instantly plunged into complete and horrible bloody chaos. From everywhere, there were screams, shouts, the rumble of overturning tables and breaking dishes. And several magical arrows woven from the same dark smoke simultaneously struck Cyrill's barrier, instantly draining his reserve by half. And worst of all, a couple of arrows pierced the barrier. One arrow struck Shinda-Bah, who collapsed from the couch with a scream at the sound of the amulet going off. One struck Cyril himself, but his protective amulets absorbed it without a trace. For a moment, the young man stood in a stupor, watching as a peaceful and pleasant evening in an elite restaurant turned into a bloodbath in a split second. But then Gata's commanding growl-cry brought him to his senses:

"Barriers! Boost! Circle! Quick!"

The commands that he had learned from dozens of runs on the polygons had a positive effect. Cyril instantly got down to business, forming weaves like never before. Reinforce the main solid barrier. Add an extra layer against penetrating weaves. Add a segmented outer barrier. Begin forming a circle reinforcer. Begin forming search enchantments. Goddamn it, they're hurting me, the bastards! Even three barriers are barely enough to hold them, and they're draining the reserve. Let's connect the rings, we'll spare no energy...

While Cyril carried out the usual commands, protecting himself and his companions, the latter did not sit idle either. Armina made a single, elusive movement, and her summer dress was torn to shreds. Underneath, she was wearing a tight-fitting garment of dark gray cloth, with amulets, battle wands, and more. Shalah-Ana, screaming, rushed to her husband, who had been hit by an arrow of dark smoke that had pierced the barrier. The first mate of the captain, who had obviously been in trouble more than once, leapt from the couch to the floor and dragged Shinda-Bah's nephew with him. Throwing up his left arm, he applied some sort of amulet, further covering them with a semi-circular shield barrier. The boy waiter and the half-blood siren threw themselves to the floor and tried to crawl under the table, showing incredible prudence. And Gata's figure became sharply blurred and murky.

But the attackers didn't sit idle for those moments either. They killed. They killed everyone they could, quickly and disgustingly successfully. Some of the guests tried to resist, after all, many were with guards. But no one was seriously expecting THAT kind of attack, at best, counting on a possible drunken brawl. And the guests and employees died, one by one. For a moment, the entire restaurant was filled with a deafening, ear-splitting scream, but it was cut off almost immediately. And one of the sirens, who was sitting higher than the others on the rock-fountain, collapsed into the water, clutching her throat. The attackers were obviously prepared for this. The rest of the sea sirens, screaming and shouting, had already jumped into the pool, hiding under the water.

It took only a few seconds, and the entire restaurant was covered in bodies and blood. And then, the attackers, who seemed to be everywhere, did something at the same time, and the Singing Sirens began to rapidly absorb the dense, black, and thick smoke. Smoke against which even magical vision was useless. In any case, Cyril instantly stopped seeing everything that was happening in the smoke, and this with his tiara! Gata, who was covering the young man, hissed softly and angrily:

"Damn, where did they come from here..."

At that moment, several more arrows struck the barriers that concealed them, which the attackers threw like darts with their hands. They were literally forming in their hands from the same black smoke that already covered the upper floors. Cat lady cursed briefly and began to hurl one command after another:

"Armina, cover! Cirial, hold the defense! Don't waste your strength! Only hit for sure! You! Stay out of the way! You! If you help your husband, help Cirial!"

During the time that the cat-lady was saying that, the barrier had already begun to receive a hail of blows, and not only arrows, but also a few amulets-dischargers, but so far Cyril had successfully kept the defense, and even almost finished forming the simplest, but quite effective ritual circle. Also, the attackers had time to transform. It was as if a bucket of water had been poured on each of them at the same time, washing away their appearances as if they had been created with watercolor paint. Instead of the visitors and employees of the Singing Sirens, there were completely different people and non-humans. But each of them had another face mask glued to their faces. Made from the facial skin of the person under whose guise they were hiding. As soon as they dropped their disguises, each was instantly enveloped in black smoke, which immediately thickened and took on the shape of armor like the ones Cyril had seen on the agents of the Secret Forest Guard.

Deceptively slow, they began to approach those behind the barriers, rapidly losing their reserves under the black smoke arrows and battle amulets pounding them from all sides. But in that instant, it appeared that their game could be played by two. Suddenly, the heads of the two attackers, who were shoulder to shoulder and holding the already formed arrows, flew off their shoulders, cut off by a single blow from their backs. As soon as the bodies were decapitated, the smoke surrounding them instantly dissipated, and they simply collapsed to the ground. A half-blurred shadow flashed behind them for a moment, and before the attackers realized anything, the one closest to the dead was struck by a powerful and concentrated jet of fire, burning through his chest. He died before his body touched the floor, and just like that, his dark armor, formed by black smoke, dissipated.

In the same instant that the first two attackers were decapitated, Gata disappeared. Just vanished. One moment she was beside Cyril, and the next moment the blurred figure of the catgirl was behind one of the attackers. A moment, and he collapsed, struck by a lightning bolt at almost point-blank range. His body didn't finish convulsing as the black armor dissipated. And the catgirl had already appeared at the side of another attacker. A moment, and he split into two halves, cut in half by a powerful blast of air. A moment, and Gata was once again beside Cyril. And the attackers, who had gotten off to such a good start, realized that they, too, were being killed a bit like this. It's quite possible that they didn't like it, though they didn't show much sign of it, some of them continued to methodically fire at the barrier, trying to deplete its reserve, some of them, wrapped in clouds of black smoke, rushed to catch the obscure shadow that killed their comrades. And new figures in black armor appeared to take the place of those who had been eliminated from the upper floors and from the clouds of the same damned black smoke that had engulfed most of the Singing Sirens.

Now they were no longer slow, but moved swiftly. But it was not just for nothing that Cyril was driven around the range by his mentor, forcing him to shoot at twisted targets and calculate the lurking enemies. The young man managed to create a small ritual circle, a simple pentagram under himself, right on the floor of the restaurant. And made his move. He raised his wand in the direction of the closest attackers and shouted loudly what came to mind:

"Xenomorphus!"

And at the same moment, in front of the barrier, there appeared in a flash of bright light a terrible creature, generated by the cinematography of Mother Earth, which rushed forward with a roar. I must say, the effect turned out just right! The appearance of a huge and terrifying scarecrow out of nowhere, which rushed forward, was a complete surprise for the attackers, and not only for them. The closest of them drew back sharply, losing their balance, and their companions also tried to break the distance and redirected their attacks with smoke arrows at the strange creature. Which successfully passed through the illusion. As well as several reinforced magical arrows of Cyrill, which hit the two closest enemies in the chest. It was a good thing he had prepared a whole volley! Because the first arrow was reflected by the smoky armor of the attackers, but at the cost of a small gap. Into which the second arrows immediately struck, killing them both. Double fucking kill!

True, the joy of victory was immediately knocked out by the catwoman’s cry:

"Hold your defense! Save your strength! Help is coming!"

Let them hurry, Cyril thought, and struck another enemy with a concentrated magical arrow that pierced him through and through. Simultaneously with his attack, several disposable battle amulets rumbled, literally blowing to pieces a couple of attackers who tried to deal with the elusive and swift shadow. The latter, however, did not allow them to do so, constantly appearing on different sides of the barrier and either using blades or battle magic to strike one or another of the enemies. She was supported by Gata, who made two more of her instant sorties. Cyrill, continuing to maintain the barriers, was not sitting idle either, but he only hit for sure. At some point, it even seemed to him that he was back at the training range with his mentor, just shooting off dummy targets that were storming his position. Except that they didn't stand a chance of penetrating it.... Whoa. Stop!

The thought-guess was like a bolt of lightning. The attackers died one by one; more than half a dozen of them had already been eliminated, but they continued to attack those who had taken shelter behind the barriers with extreme stupidity. At full height, with little to no defense.... Fuck! Turning to the catgirl, Cyril yelled:

"Something's wrong! They are stalling for time!"

Gatha cast a swift glance at him, then at her enemies. For a moment, she stared at the battlefield motionless, then she yelled:

"Damn it, they're cutting us off! First! They're..."

Suddenly, a half-blurred shadow figure appeared right next to the barrier, putting up another barrier-shield in front of itself and barking in a distorted voice:

"It's too late! Let me through, I'm empty! Hurry!"

"Cirial!"

The young man created a gap in the barriers behind the figure, and the figure slid backward under their cover. A pair of arrows of black smoke immediately struck the closed defenses. The unknown man, still half-blurred and still under the protection of Cyril's barrier, instantly shouted:

"Make a hole in this smoke, quickly, or they'll drag us away! Quickly!"

"Got it! Cirial, with me, as we..."

"Fuck, it's late!"

Another figure in dark armor emerged from the black smoke that had surrounded those who had taken shelter behind the barriers so tightly that it seemed as if there was nothing within a few dozen meters behind it. The figure was clearly a woman, and she came out demonstratively unhurriedly. And to this figure, the blood of the slain comrades, guests, and employees of the Singing Sirens flowed in swift streams. As it approached her, the blood turned into the same black smoke, enveloping the unknown figure with the glued face of a wrinkled old man, thicker and thicker.

"Take her down, quickly!" The roar of the unknown hit the ears.

Cyril struck with a classic magical arrow, putting into this blow the maximum of his strength, almost half of his remaining reserve, and the same amount from the reserves of both rings. The power of the weave heated the wand to the point where it would have caught fire. Gata raised both hands, and a branching bolt of lightning shot from them. Armina, who had not been involved in the battle before, swung both her arms, and glowing spokes of lightning flew from her fingers. All three attacks hit their target, literally ripping chunks of flesh out of her and punching her out. But the attacker remained standing, and the smoke around her did not dissipate. On the contrary, despite her obviously mortal wounds, it grew even thicker and then began to rapidly approach those who had taken cover behind the barriers, consuming what little space was left. The unidentified assistant let out a loud curse:

"Damn, barriers at full power..."

"Hold on! I'm going to take us to..."

The scream of Shalah-Ana, who had been forgotten in the heat of battle, coincided with the moment when black smoke touched Cyrill's outer barrier, covering him from all sides. At that very moment, the young man seemed to be squeezed from all sides for a moment, and a pressure difference hit his eardrums.

"... Smile! Oh..."

Everyone under the protection of the barriers froze. Then, slowly, they turned to see Shalakh-Ana sitting on the floor with a pale Shinda-Bah in her arms. The husband and wife were holding hands, clutching some kind of amulet in their four palms. They were clenching so hard that blood was dripping from their fingers. A moment passed like that. A second. And then the black smoke rapidly began to disperse. Cyril and the rest of the survivors, including the boy waiter who showed his head from under the table, looked around. The common thought that came to all of them was articulated in a distorted voice by the still-blurred unknown man.

"Fuck."

They were all in the middle of some sort of grassy clearing. Along with the patch of floor they were standing on, the cozy couches, the cushions, the table, and the snacks that had survived on it. It was late night all around, and the stars and moon were shining overhead. It was very quiet, but for Cyril the silence of the night was broken almost immediately by the sound of a notification about the completed assignment.

Author's Note:

That's 40 shits. Ugh. That was tough. So, Cyrill got into his first adventure, and with both feet. Now he's gonna get out of it. Luckily, he didn't get into it alone, but with good company.

As usual, I'll try not to procrastinate. And I'll tell you that the next chapter will probably be about Cyril again. And the next one will be about Master. That's the way it is.

And yes. Thank you to everyone who supports the work by commenting, liking, and waiting! I'll be replying to the first ones tomorrow, though, and most likely in the afternoon, as I have a lot of work to do.

P.S. A bit of hentai on the subject of what you can see in Azure Bay. All honestly nicked from the vastness of the Vietnamese Internet:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/19wcJmba_zCvYgTKPPRb3mTfVbQYSklOa?usp=sharing

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/586662

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP