Быть Гладу и Хладу / There will be Hunger and Cold: 4. Итого, завоевание деревенского авторитета в антураже темного фентези прошло с некоторой долей успеха

4. In conclusion, gaining rural credibility in a dark fantasy setting was somewhat successful.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 09:45

* * *

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 09:44

It just so happens that in an environment shaped by movies, holographic projections, virtual series, and partial immersion capsule games, very few people actually realize how much good old-fashioned violence ruled the medieval world. Death from an excess of iron or other bodily deformities was as commonplace for Earthlings as the common cold or Sunday discounts on Steam sales. People back then did not leave their native village, city neighborhood, or guild settlement alone and preferred to walk in well-armed groups, not for prestige, but because a lone traveler was a dead man. They would be robbed, used, deceived, or simply beaten up, or all of the above, simply because they were alone, with no one around to speak up or ask questions on their behalf. In those glorious days, social status and caste meant everything to a person, and without the support of society, they became strangers, prey, fish.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 09:48

The Broken is not an Earth; that is a fact, but in many ways it is in a similar social period, simply with the addition of magic, gifted Mechanisms, and the constant threat of creatures emerging from all sides and even from subspace rifts. No, there are exceptions, there are areas of the Ecumene where iron order reigns, and a wandering loner is not met with a knife and a ditch, but with a hunting party that catches vagrants and sends them to labor camps. In the best cases, the camp will be just that —a camp where such people will be given work, food, and some care, and even some payment for their labor, albeit minimal. But this is more of a statistical anomaly, as most often the Broken treated loners and vagrants according to standard patterns.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 09:50

When a vagrant arrives in some remote village or farmstead, the local peasants will simply hit him on the head with a hoe while he is sleeping, or come up with something else. If the years are hungry and unproductive, they might even kill him for meat, but that's a different story. That's why Ilya didn't go to a distant farm, where statistically it's very difficult to find kind-hearted individuals who wouldn't try to beat up or chase away a vagrant like him. And it would be quite reasonable to beat him up or chase him away. Such individuals had a very bad reputation in earthly reality. In Broken, a wandering killer-cannibal gradually turning into some kind of abomination was not a possibility, but almost a rule, an empirically derived law.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 09:53

The Diver made full use of the Twin's memory, as well as his own experience and all his acting talent, to find the right image and words. He was neat enough not to be mistaken for a cannibal, but at the same time, he didn't have any special riches on him that would make it worth the risk to kill him. And the settlement seemed to be extremely prosperous and not suffering from hunger or poverty, so they wouldn't kill a stranger just for showing up, at least not right away. There was always the possibility of encountering something else: a cult of some creature or an aggressive branch of service to one of the Dead, an illegal band of manhunters, or an equally illegal individual from among the local peasants gifted with the Mechanism. Yes, yes, most of the natives receive the blessing of the Mechanism at various altars, places of power, natural faults, or through the legacy in the blood of ancestors who visited one of these places of initiation. But there is always the possibility of becoming the chosen one of the Mechanism just like that, by accident.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:08

Such lucky ones, having minimal knowledge even by the low standards of all who are not earthlings, often ruin themselves and turn into creatures, but sometimes they manage to put together a decent build and quietly begin to help their relatives and loved ones. That is, if their relatives do not sell such a child to the nearest aristocrat, if no one betrays them, if the relationship between them all was normal from the start. Otherwise, an individual who has newly discovered their powers often starts a massacre, remembering all the real and imagined grievances. But the chances of encountering a bearer of the Mechanism's blessings hiding from the lords' recruiters, who need victims to level up, are, to put it mildly, orders of magnitude lower than the chances of encountering ordinary human greed and meanness.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:10

After mentally rehearsing his story and a rough plan for the conversation once more, Ilya continued walking toward the gates of the settlement, carefully hiding the slight but long-standing fatigue that weighed on him. If he moved in his usual lively manner, they might not believe that he was really a lonely, tired traveler. They would start asking questions, or even send someone to search the area, looking for a camp where such a lively fool had managed to rest and recover. People, and even non-people, inhabiting Broken always need to be shown exactly what they expect to see, leaving them to figure out the rest — the golden rule of an infiltrator into local society. Here, they react nervously to breaking the pattern and can tear apart someone who has broken it.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:33

"A woodcarver, huh? A good one, huh? Well, well. Hmm." The owner of a local tavern and, concurrently, one of the local elders by virtue of his wealth and authority, looked at Ilya, who bowed his head respectfully and took off his worn beret, rather negatively, but without a greedy or calculating gleam in his eyes, which already pleased the earthling who was preparing to take off. "Well, let's say your crafts are nice, yes. I would take some for my wife. But you can't feed yourself with crafts here, that's for sure. You say you fell behind your companions, huh? They abandoned you, so you're stuck here."

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:44

"I twisted my ankle, Elder Ruvy. It swelled up completely. I couldn't walk." Shortly, and with the proper amount of irritation and resentment, as if recalling this imaginary situation, the diver replies. “My senior told me to catch up later, if I could. They didn't abandon me; they left food and water. They helped me dig a dugout away from the road. So I could wait it out. I waited it out, and my leg healed. But then, some kind of beast scared me. I ran, I even escaped, but I lost my way...”

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:46

"Okay, okay, don't be such a chatterbox. I've heard this before... You're a lucky man, then, a lucky man. To get lost in the Ridge and then find your way back out. That's impossible without the help of the Door Locker." The village head's words are full of skepticism, but there's less of it than before. Ilya's arguments are quite compelling. Such a story could have really happened, but it could also be fiction, like now. "All right. You'll have to wait until the merchant caravan arrives. You know, they're my friends, you understand! I'll vouch for you, then. And you'll work around the farm... whatever needs to be done, yes."

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 10:58

Ilya suppressed the desire to rip out this asshole's throat, and this desire came not only from his class, but also from his personal desire to do something bad to this greedy and cunning asshole. He took almost all of Ilya's bone and wood crafts, the best ones, which could be sold for good copper in the same city. But at the same time, he clearly wanted to get a free farmhand for himself, for an indefinite time, the bastard. His “I'll ask my friend” was pure bullshit, and he sincerely believed that his interlocutor would fall for this crap.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:09

Damn it. Any caravan of merchants passing through Big Tooth is, with rare exceptions, a familiar for the innkeeper! Newcomers appear, but not often; the same people use the same routes, transporting the same goods season after season. It's just easier to say that there is, say, a particularly reliable merchant, a bro, who will definitely reach Upperstone and deliver you, you fool, there. And he definitely won't cheat you, won't deceive you, won't sell you into slavery, and won't quietly kill you at one of the stops for your worn-out boots. And you, vagabond, go ahead and work for my mercy from here until sunset, and don't even mention money, or else what will happen, huh? I'm helping you, and you're going to ask me and those I tell to help you for payment for your hard work?

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:14

However, things didn't turn out too badly, and Ilya successfully “sold” his legend. A group of artisans was heading to the city for the spring fair to sell all their fine wares—carvings, jewelry, riveted belts, and all that stuff. Along with them was an unlucky carver who had twisted his ankle and who, according to the “laws” and "customs", had been dispossessed a little. But this was not done completely arbitrarily, but with respect and understanding — most of his goods were taken “for sale,” and it would be good if at least a third of the money earned from them was given back. And no one was going to give anything back, because they didn't believe that a lone traveler would make it to Upperstone and survive the winter cold. In fact, the food, fuel, and slightly warmer sheepskin coat they gave him could only buy him a little time before the wolves smelled the smoke and came to see who was so delicious there.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:17

The innkeeper assessed the situation and decided to obtain, at least for a couple of months, a free worker whom he could rent out to his fellow villagers. At the same time, he considers himself a benefactor and a good person, which is especially admirable! And what's even more wonderful is that Ilya, internally struggling with the desire to gouge out the cunningly darting eyes of the nasty kulak, acknowledges that, by the standards of the Broken, he has indeed shown, if not kindness, then certainly mercy. However, it remains to be seen whether the merchant, as advised, will try to give Ilya such a useful item of clothing for the farm as a collar with shackles. But that's just luck, because the peasants in this part of the world don't really cooperate with slave traders. The Twins' memory gave a clear answer in this regard, leaving no room for interpretation.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:19

"All right, Elder." With a brief nod and all due respect, Ilya received a satisfied smile in response from the slightly chubby, mustachioed face of the asshole, who was just about to start rubbing his hands together. "What needs to be done? Right now, I mean."

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:20

It is worth giving credit where credit is due: at first, they did let him stay and even heated the bathhouse, or rather, they heated it for themselves, but they allowed him to take a steam bath. And then, as if by accident, they were able to examine his thin bag, where there was nothing to steal except carving tools. Ilya then, also as if by accident, immediately said that carving was like life to him, so if the tools disappeared, it would be better for him to disappear too. Because he wouldn't ask questions, he would immediately reach for his axe. Ruvy looked offended, but he heeded the warning. The things in the bag were not in the same order as Ilya had left them before the bathhouse, but nothing was missing. Because there was nothing to steal, he wasn't stupid enough to bring anything valuable with him to a settlement where curious natives lived.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:31

The trio of gloomy and not particularly talkative men who decided to steam with Ilya were not in the mood for conversation. Instead, they watched Ilya very closely. Any other earthling would have suspected this was a prelude to finding out who was the boss of the gym. Smarter earthlings would have immediately understood the real reason: they were looking for marks, deformities, and mutations on his body that could reveal him to be some kind of creature, a cultist of someone of the Dead, forbidden on this piece of the Broken, or even just a thief or a robber. Brands are not always placed on the forehead, and many thieves' guilds regularly mark their brothers. They present all this, of course, as brotherhood and unity, but in reality, they simply cut off the newcomers' retreat and make the guards' job easier.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:32

They heated the bathhouse in the traditional way, but Ilya, who was cold and still not completely rid of his unhealthy thinness, felt like he had entered paradise. And the internal cries of the Wendigo, who was writhing from the heat and warmth, did not interfere with his enjoyment at all; rather, they intensified it even more. Ideally, he would have liked to have a beautiful native woman by his side, but it was better for a simple vagabond not to voice such desires and to look at the local girls with extreme caution. It was still unclear which would be worse — if they tried to beat him up, or if they decided to marry him off?

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:33

Although it must be admitted, if they do try to arrange a marriage, it will certainly not be with local beauties, but with someone uglier, yes. How many similar topics have there been on the Forum, how many heartbreaking and hilarious stories about earthlings running away from such family relationships? It's impossible to count, and no one even tries; at most, they collect a selection of the most curious cases.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:34

"So, ahem, I'll be Grach. My hand got stuck between the logs, you see. Ruvy, the sly one, said you should help out around the farm." The short, slightly stooped man, who had been given a new farmhand to look after, was clearly a little lost, but not out of modesty; he simply didn't know how to give the worker more tasks to do. “My son, my eldest, you'll have to help. Don't call my wife, she's busy. Chop some wood for dinner and fetch some water, that's all. And take a look at the porch, there's a board that's not holding...”

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:35

His ears are ringing from trying to make sense of a primitive monologue filled with parasitic constructs in a universal language that is crying blood from such an attitude, but Ilya just nods silently. The work of another person, especially after a long and difficult journey, could have caused him to faint. But for the owner of the Twin, and with such an indicator invested in Bones-Claws, any physical labor, especially simple and mechanical, presented no difficulties. It was just that this particular task was very boring, but nothing more.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:36

The thirteen-year-old boy, clearly not too keen on working hard, but also not wanting to be beaten by his father, was considered almost an adult by local standards and therefore helped Ilya as an equal. He looked at him with slight condescension and superiority, but without fanaticism, because Ilya was older and physically very strong, and could kick him. Until evening, the earthling tirelessly chopped wood for the rest of the winter with a very old hatchet, carried water, and even managed to repair the threshold boards, propping them up with a couple of stones that fit the size so that they would not sag. He took breaks to avoid looking too suspicious and to give little First a rest. Yes, yes, he was the firstborn, hence the name First. The family also had a seven-year-old named Second, and before him, two children who did not live to be named, having died earlier.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:38

The charming aspects of medieval life, yes.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:39

They sat him down at the table, not even at the end, but at the guest's place, and fed him no worse than the master of the house himself. The latter apparently liked the speed and quality of the hired farmhand's work. However, the food was not particularly tasty and moderately filling. There was no meat, except for some bacon rinds and scraps of skin, not much oil, and bread mixed with pea flour. But there were goose eggs, one each for him and Grach, and broth cooked on bones.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:40

They didn't put him up for the night at the inn, because then they would have had to change and wash the bedding and heat the room. No, he slept right in Grach's house, on a separate bench, having pushed First onto the floor. After all, a farmhand is a farmhand, but it's indecent to completely humiliate a man who works diligently. And in the local reality, putting a kid who's not even an adult yet to sleep on the bench while he sleeps on the floor is like spitting in his face. To be honest, Ilya would have been better off sleeping on the floor. There's more space, and the bench is hard and narrow anyway. He didn't give a damn about warmth, he wouldn't have heated the stove at all, but then there was a risk that the other inhabitants of the house would freeze.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:43

Fortunately, the stove turned out to be in good working order, and the damper had been set correctly, so no one was in danger of suffocating in their sleep. However, Ilya was awakened half the night by the cautious movements of the owner of the house and his wife, who could not sleep with a stranger in the house, waking up now and then to check on the sleeping Ilya. What if he decided to get up, rummage through the owners' bins, or try to bite the heads off the sleeping children? In the latter case, it was a perfectly reasonable and entirely justified concern, but Ilya was in control of himself. He falls asleep thinking that his integration into society has already begun, that it will be boring, but at least not dangerous. And when the next merchant caravan arrives in glorious Upperstone, there will be someone to tell, someone to ask, and someone to answer for the next vagrant.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:47

Well, or everything will go awry, and Ilya's plans for two or three peaceful cycles with minimal pumping and maximum socializing will go down the drain. The situation will return to square one: the need to kill a lot and with relish.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:47

Everyone.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:48

* * *

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 11:43

They tested the strength of the newcomer on the sixth day of his new working life. They gave him a little time to settle in, or, more likely, they were watching him themselves. Ilya slowly and calmly went about his heavy and thankless work, of which there was plenty in the village, and which could easily be given to someone else to do for food. This was quite generous by Slomano's standards, but that was because Tooth was a well-fed and wealthy place, where they did not skimp on every handful of peas and saw the opportunity to use hired labour. In addition to the Diver, there were four other labourers from outside the village, but two of them were acquaintances from a neighbouring village that had been ravaged by a beast. Guess what kind of beast it was, by the way? He would demand payment from them, but screw them, let their father and mother rest in peace, knowing that the invisible thing that killed them is also dead.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 20:38

These two homeless guys were taken in by relatives, but they were treated even worse. There were also a couple of other lone travellers who had settled in the village, willing to work for food. However, one of them had been severely beaten and thrown out into the cold two days earlier when he was caught trying to break into someone else's chest, and the other left of his own accord when he realised that he would have to work hard for his food and that any attempt to slack off or pocket anything could result in him being beaten to death. There were also ordinary travellers who paid for their stay at the inn or at one of the widows' houses with hard cash, waiting for either a caravan or warmer weather. But Ilya hardly communicated with them. There were too many tasks in the early days, and he didn't want to get into trouble.

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 20:40

But on the evening of the sixth day, when he repaired the leaky roof of the old shoemaker's house, the old man, who had successfully married off two daughters and buried four sons and two wives, happily repaired Ilya's leaky boots; they met him to ‘talk.’ There were three of them, all tall, though younger than Ilya, each about twenty years old, maybe twenty-three. They did not look much younger than Ilya, due to the hard life of the common people in Broken, but they were still younger. Their smiles were unpleasant, smug, and full of self-importance. Their hands openly flexing, their belts adorned with clubs and knives. A knife was a sign of status here; without one, a man was not considered a man, for what kind of man could not kill his opponent?

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 20:41

"Hey, you, why don't you take off your hat in front of your betters?" The ringleader of the trio was not the tallest of the three, but the one standing in the centre, the shortest and thinnest, but his broken nose and knuckles revealed him to be an experienced fighter, albeit not as skilled as he thought himself to be. "What's the matter with you, haven't you heard that if you don't take off your hat in front of your betters, you might lose your boots?"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 05:50

Ilya barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was boots that looked so pathetic you couldn't even look at them. He had chosen them specifically so that he could wear them in public. Their only value was that the soles were soft, not wooden like those worn by the other three middle-aged medieval morons. It had been a long time since fathers, thankfully, married early here, but the same pride and desire to show off, as if they had climbed into the slums of the social welfare neighborhood, damn. Assessing this trio and all the problems he would get into if he quietly buried them here, the diver barely restrains a sorrowful sigh. And the onlookers have already gathered, clearly knowing in advance that there would be a spectacle! If only he could approach quietly, in the middle of the night... although even then he would not kill, nor would he break his mask, perhaps.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 05:52

"Just a question, senior?" Ilya said the respectful address in such a tone that it immediately became clear to what extent he considered his interlocutor to be senior. "Or is your nose itchy?

Camrad_RIP 26.06.25 в 14:46

"Hey, what nose?" he asks with childlike innocence, but experience cannot be ignored, and he immediately covers his nose, like his face, with a primitive block stance. "Uh-uh-uh-uh!"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 05:53

Ilya didn't hit him in the nose. Why break people's skulls when he still has to live in the same village with them? No, he hit him in the solar plexus, bending the poor guy over. And why not? By local moral standards, they had already insulted him badly, so he had to hit them right away, which is what they were counting on. In fact, they were surprised by Ilya's question, which he asked instead of immediately striking. The retaliatory blows from a couple of comrades were not long in coming, and the arrogant individual quickly got back on his feet. And the fun began, for which so many onlookers had gathered, because it's not every day that a stranger is beaten up for the first time in Big Tooth!

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 05:54

Unfortunately, the beating didn't go as planned. Ilya didn't show anything extraordinary; he forced himself to suppress his animal instincts, covered his head, and rarely struck back, regularly taking blows. To their credit, none of the three took up arms, seeing that Ilya did not, and although they struck hard and viciously, they did so without going beyond the bounds of village brawling customs — no blows to the groin or eyes, and they spared the head as well. This, incidentally, distinguished the village way of fighting from the city way, because in the city it was permissible to strike the head, but it was forbidden to tear clothing, because it was expensive to mend. Furthermore, in mended clothing, one might not be allowed into normal neighbourhoods or shops, whereas in the village, no one cared; everyone wore rags, unless it was for a wedding or something.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 05:57

Ilya was constantly being punched, especially by the big guy, but it was his fists that suffered rather than Ilya himself. He still had to dodge the blows by moving to the side; otherwise, their fists would have smashed against his frozen flesh. He struck at the shoulders, ribs, and sides, not at full strength or even a third of his strength, but enough to make all three groan and ‘cool down the fucking’ a little, as the old divers would say. The tangle of dishevelled and angry alpha males, the pride of the nation of anthropomorphic baboons, fell apart into four separate parts after two minutes. The ringleader spat loudly on the ground, cleared his throat, trying not to vomit on his shoes, while the third simply pressed his hands to his liver. But they stood there, just as the slightly bedraggled and staggering Ilya stood. And his whole appearance seemed to say that he felt terrible, yes, but if you bitches mess with him, it will get even worse.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:07

"Oh, come on, you bastard!" Having caught his breath, the leader found the strength to smile and even utter this phrase as a mocking compliment, perhaps even a sincere one. "It's like beating a log! And you hit it like a log! Huh! Okay, you can keep your hat on, then. But I'm not going to call you ‘senior’ either!"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 14:47

"Ouch, damn! Where did you learn to hit like that, bastard?" The bully expresses not so much pain as some kind of childish resentment that he is in pain, but he himself cannot hurt his victim enough to knock him down. "Who are you, anyway? A woodcutter, yes! I asked!"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 14:49

"You young ones, have you ever wondered where those bones come from, the ones we carve patterns on?" A joke on thin ice. In another situation, it could be analogous to a joke about a bomb at a customs checkpoint, after which the joker is arrested by the feds, but now it turned out to be appropriate, causing the leader to laugh. That is why the second part of his speech did not sound immediately. They laughed first. "So what? Shall we continue?"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 14:45

At the last phrase, Ilya even stopped pretending to be beaten, straightening up and raising his fists in a parody of a boxer's stance. He did not reach for his belt, which the third, youngest man regretted slightly, as he had been eager to pull a knife from his own belt. Only a very hard push in the side from the leader prevented him from doing so. You took out the knife, that's it. All the consequences are your own fault. In the sense that in worldly courts, if you take up arms first, you are not even branded for killing someone; at most, you get a fine. Of course, no one will understand or forgive Ilya; they will try to kill him as soon as he kills his victim, but at the same time, they will be killing a stranger, knowing that the bastard was right.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 14:39

"No, that's enough, yeah." In such cases, it's very important to back down and save face, as with street thugs and other petty criminals, otherwise they might bite back. "Let's have a mug of booze, shall we? I'll treat, then. Here's to this wonderful acquaintance!"

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:15

Ilya, pretending to think about it, did not refuse, went to that very tavern, and ended up drinking bitter but strong moonshine in the company of local troublemakers. As a result, his conquest of village authority in a dark fantasy setting was somewhat successful. It was almost like dealing with the local thugs from the social welfare, only here you didn't have to hide from the cameras to throw a punch.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:37

The guys themselves were already married with sons, even had their own houses, but they were still like the golden youth of the peasantry. The ringleader, Gozhik, from the word ‘gozhiy’ (handsome), was the only surviving son of the local senior hunter. Anyone could shoot a hare with a slingshot or a weak bow, but only three people went hunting for deer or predators, a small group, and this leader was one of the three, along with his father and uncle. The second, who was a bully, was called Boris, almost like on Earth. He was the miller's son, by the way, and the miller was a big shot here because he owned both mills. One belonged to his brother, but his brother died of fever three years ago, and the miller took over his mill, but he also took in his brother's young wife and didn't throw her out.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:14

The earthling clearly suspected that something was amiss, as the trio's expressions were quite distinctive, but he had no intention of determining how genuine the second miller's fever was or whether his wife was truly delighted to be ‘warmed up.’ Stories like this are commonplace in Broken, and this shit isn't much different from the earthly realities of long ago, except that a little magic has been added, but nothing more.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:13

The third one went by the name of Quark, and thank goodness it wasn't Photon or Boson, yeah. The last of the gilded, or rather, copper-sprinkled men, men, not lads, otherwise it would be an insult and another fight, was the middle one, the son of the local Land Surveyor. Roughly speaking, he was the oldest, the one who distributed land, allotments, and all that. Usually, the Land Surveyor in villages is the Chief Headman, the only and most important one, not just one of the authorities, but here, the place of residence lets him down.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:12

The local peasants on the Ridge don't really sow and reap much; most of the vegetable gardens here are just enough to feed themselves, not for taxes. They are engaged in gathering, growing herbs, especially ‘rocky’ ones, which are taxed and only grow here on the Ridge. Again, wheat grows very well on this stony soil, as if by magic, because there is enough of it in the air here. They also mine that very stone and, of course, as in Tooth, simply serve as outposts for caravans passing through Ridge. In fact, the local villagers also buy provisions from the surrounding villages and sell them to the caravanners.

Camrad_RIP 27.06.25 в 06:10