Готовый перевод Страж Империи / Guardian of the Empire: Глава 5

Chapter 5
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I nodded silently. What was there to understand? Who would want to appear before their friends in such an ambiguous form? And I quickly hobbled out of the room.

He made it. He jumped out onto the landing right in front of Roald and the commandant and slammed the door behind him.

“Oh, Kar, you’re alive!” Roald rejoiced sincerely and, in a burst of emotion, hugged me.

“Yeah, alive,” I forced out a crooked smile and, remembering the morning’s twists and turns, added: “And this is definitely just a miracle!”

“Well, well, it’s not such a miracle,” the commandant chuckled and immediately asked, “And what is Caitlin doing at your place?”

"Kaylee?" I asked again and shrugged. "So she's not doing anything. She's resting."

But the trick didn't work on the commandant. He glared at me and, frowning, created an "Air Wall" with which he pinned Roald and me to the railing, and then walked into my bedroom.

"Caitlin?!" His outraged voice rang out a moment later. And Sir Roderick immediately rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such force that the walls shook.

Frozen on the landing, the commandant looked at me with a frown and shook his head. But he didn't nail me to the spot, as I had mentally prepared myself for, but he dispelled the "Air Wall." And without saying a word, he began to descend the stairs.

"Grandpa, wait, I'll explain everything to you!" Caitlin, almost dressed, ran out of the room, trying to zip up her jacket with one hand and clutching her gun belt with the other.

"No, Caitlin," Sir Roderick said sternly, turning around. "No explanations! This is too much even for you!" And, pointing his finger first at her and then at me, he added dispassionately: "Until you two sort this out properly, I don't want to know either of you!" Having uttered this murderous phrase, the noble sir hastily left my house. And Caitlin, casting a kind look in my direction as a farewell, in which it was clearly read that she would return a little later and cut me into thin, thin slices with a blunt knife, ran out after him.

“Well, you’re something, Kar…” Roald said in confusion, looking after the nobleman who had left.

And I sank down on the step, exhausted, and clasped my head in my hands. I didn’t want anything. Except for one thing – to figure out how to get out of all this…

"Oh, come on, Kar, don't worry," the foreman sat down next to me and patted me on the shoulder. "It's just part of life. You're not the first person to have to get married because he was caught red-handed by the girl's relatives."

"Why get married?" I winced with annoyance.

"What, do you think she'll send you to execution?" Roald was worried. "It seems Sir Roderick didn't say anything bad about his granddaughter. On the contrary, he bragged on the way about what a smart and beautiful girl she is. Very purposeful and sensitive to other people's troubles. And respectful. She didn't forget about the old man - she came to her grandfather so that he could help her prepare for the exam to receive a master's degree in magical art."

I laughed nervously. Now it was clear why the bounty hunters had to retreat abruptly! They were just smart. In any case, their mage wasn't stupid. Not stupid at all... Unlike me.

"What are you laughing at?" Roald grumbled. "This is no laughing matter."

"That's true..." I became despondent again: "Here's the thing, Roald... I never had anything with Caitlin. So there can be no talk of marriage."

"Yes?" the foreman asked sarcastically. "And what was she doing in your bedroom then? Did she accidentally mix it up with hers and pop in to change?" He muttered discontentedly: "You, Kar, don't want to say anything, so don't say anything, but don't lie."

“We had nothing,” I repeated.

"It doesn't matter whether you managed to do it or not," Roald waved his hand. "Initiative is punishable, you know. It wasn't for nothing that Lady Caitlin undressed in your bedroom..."

“It’s not easy…” I said sadly. “It was me and Angel who undressed her…”

"What are you talking about?" Roald's eyes widened. "With what Angel?" And he shook his head in amazement. "Were the three of you having fun here? With Caitlin and another girl?"

“To hell with such fun,” I muttered, thinking about my own.

"Yes... I didn’t expect this from you, Kar... I don’t know how to help you now," Roald scratched the back of his head.

“What kind of help can there be here…” I sighed and joked gloomily: “Maybe help me attach a rope to the chandelier…”

"Well, don't make up such nonsense," the foreman looked me in the eye with alarm. "You can't hang yourself now, really. It'll all work out somehow... Marry... hm... one or the other, and everything will be sorted out."

Yeah, it'll work out. Of course... Now Caitlin will catch up with her grandfather and explain everything to him. And very soon they will return. And not at all to insist on the wedding. No, they will simply kill him on the spot, and that's all. Sir Roderick will clearly not handle him in baby gloves when he finds out what I allowed myself to do with his granddaughter.

"You know, Roald, go home," I said to the foreman, getting up from the step. "There is no need to interfere in this matter."

"I already left you unattended for several hours, and look at what you did," Roald grumbled in response and shook his head. "No, I'll stay. So that instead of a wedding, some kind of murder doesn't happen."

"No, seriously, go home," I repeated, not feeling the slightest desire to drag the foreman into trouble. And I was a little cunning: "I'm going to fall asleep anyway. I'll just bolt the door behind you so that uninvited guests don't break in, and then I'll go to bed. I'm so exhausted with all these problems that I don't have the strength to stand on my feet."

"Are you really going to bed?" Roald asked incredulously. "After everything that happened?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I really need to rest before the upcoming stress. And Tier Covan wanted me to drop in to see him today to talk. But where would I go drunk and high on dope? I could say such things that they'd tie me up there."

"Yes, that's true," Roald chuckled, calming down a little. "You have to be careful with the Third Department. They'll twist you around like that - you'll confess to something you didn't do, just so they'll leave you alone."

I nodded and began to slowly descend the stairs, hinting in such a simple way to Roald that he should get out of my house. It was ugly, of course, but there was no other way. With me, everything was clear - I was to blame for everything, but Roald could suffer for nothing when the enraged commandant with his granddaughter came to me.

The foreman left, I slid the bolt on the door, and, leaning my back against it, sighed with relief. All right. Now I can calmly prepare for my imminent death without worrying about anyone.

Having climbed up to the second floor, I sat down on the bed and looked at what this butcher had done to my feet. It was simply horrific – the skin had turned black and looked like the crust that you get on a potato baked in coals. It’s a good thing I don’t feel any pain, thanks to the “Sparkling Ice”. Although that’s probably the bad thing. I’d rather have suffered a little in the morning than get into such a mess because of my unwillingness to endure pain.

Finding the ill-fated box of dope lying by the bed, I thought for a moment. And then, grimacing, I angrily threw it out the window. To the demons, all this mind-numbing nastiness.

Of course, this couldn’t help me in any way; I had already done enough, but at least I relieved my soul.

//"Hurry up, hurry up and get ready!" The imp who had appeared on the windowsill urged me as I began to get dressed. "Time is running out!"

//"I'm not late for anything," I muttered, looking at the bastard with hostility. "And I'm not going to run away. If I did something bad, I'll answer for it."

//"Oh, donkey, oh donkey." The imp began to dart around the windowsill. "And how could I have gotten involved with someone like that..." Suddenly, he stopped abruptly, looked at me suspiciously, and asked: "Or do you really hope that this exceptionally pretty little bitch will actually marry you?" And he laughed mockingly.

//Screw you! I got angry.

//“No, come on, tell me, are you really thinking of getting married?” The horned one jumped up to me.

//"If it needs to, I'll get married!" I muttered angrily. "If, of course, Caitlin's family puts the question that way... Which is, in general, extremely unlikely."

//"No, you're not a donkey," The imp stated, plopping down on his backside and shaking his head, "You're even worse than a donkey! Even the most thick-headed lop-eared one wouldn't think of going to the slaughterhouse on his own and offering his skin as a gift! Do you even understand what this demoness will do to you?!" He grimaced.

//"Who is to blame for the fact that now I have nowhere to go?" I asked, embittered. And I answered my own question: "You and your impish shit!"

//“Me?!” The imp narrowed his eyes, lashing his legs with his tail.

//"Exactly you!" I confirmed. "Thanks to you, I have done so many stupid things that I should pack my bags and go get a dragon right now! And such an act would not be an incredible stupidity, despite its obvious suicidal nature! For only by committing such madness can I count on the fact that the matter will be resolved with a wedding, and not with blood!"

//"Yes, you are a rare donkey," the imp drawled thoughtfully, looking at me and scratching his left horn. "We could take you around towns and villages and show off such a curiosity... We could earn some money..." And, baring his teeth, he sneered: "Why don't you pack your bag and go after the dragon?"

//"I would have been getting ready to do so if it weren't for the service," I muttered. "No one will save me from being hanged for desertion... And to resign according to the rules, I'll need more than a decade. And what kind of dragon slayer am I now, when I can't even climb a hill, let alone gallop across the mountains?" I carefully touched my burnt foot.

//“So let me fix this problem.” The cheerful imp immediately suggested.

//"How?" I couldn't help but ask sarcastically. "Take away the pain, and I won't notice anything until my burned legs rot and fall off?"

//“No,” the imp shook his head. “Suppressing pain for days on end is not the way to go. Why, I ask, should I go to all this trouble when I can easily boost your body’s restorative properties? And that’s all! In a couple of hours, the wound will be gone! You just get a little hungry.”

I picked up my hat from the floor and, looking critically at the demon, remarked: //"You don't look like my guardian angel... You look more like a filthy evil spirit... And if that's the case, then why are you so concerned about me? Or are you going to offer to sell your soul for healing?"

//“I don’t give a damn about your soul!” The imp waved it off and grinned contentedly: “We are now the best of friends! Because you promised not to cast me out! Well, if that’s the case, it’s nothing for me to help you out a little. Especially since we’re not talking about saving you now, if you get a mortal wound, then yes, I won’t help you for free; it’s against the rules. And the fact that your wounds will heal a little faster, that’s nothing special. They would have healed anyway. And sooner or later… Who cares?”

//"Oh, really," I smiled wryly in response to the demon's "friendly disposition." The impudent horned beast. He got me into trouble, and now he's pretending to be a good-willed person. Oh well, we'll get even... But for now, I can accept his offer. It wouldn't hurt to recover now. And he's telling the truth - there's nothing complicated about it. Any sufficiently skilled Gifted can quickly recover from an injury. Not to mention the imperial guards, who, thanks to the taliars from werewolves, have the ability to heal wounds almost instantly, right before their eyes. In general, my body only needs a push, as the demon says, and then things will go well. And there's no trick in it.

//“Are you going to think about it for long?” the horned one asked discontentedly.

//“No,” I replied. “You can work on restoring my body.”

The horned scoundrel disappeared for a few moments, and when he reappeared, he said contentedly, //"It's done! In a couple of hours, the result will be obvious!" And then he advised: "Find some food before it's too late! Otherwise, you'll get so hungry that you might turn into a cannibal!"

I nodded, got dressed, and hobbled downstairs. First to the bathroom to wash up, and then to the kitchen to rummage through the bins. Of course, I didn’t have much food, so I had to make do with little. I found a small piece of ham and half a loaf of stale gray bread and laid the loot on the table. I also cut off some cheese from a recently purchased circle and began making sandwiches.

Having settled down on a stool by the window and having pulled back the curtain, I began to stuff my belly, watching what was happening on the street. But I had no appetite. And not at all because I was not satisfied with the simple food. It was just that I did not feel any hunger at all against the background of a headache that arose from incessant thoughts. What should I do now?..

//“Eat up quickly and go,” urged the imp who had appeared on the table.

\\“Where are we going?” I didn’t understand.

//"For the dragon's head," the horned scoundrel grinned nastily. "Unless, of course, you're not on good terms with your own head."

I just looked at him angrily and didn't answer. The imp chuckled and either inquired or suggested in an ingratiating tone: "Maybe we should run away after all?.."

//"You're stupid, imp," I sighed. "Running away won't solve anything. It'll only make things worse."

//“And you are just a fool!” snorted the horned one. “We need to get out of here while we have the chance! And not wait for the magicians to put their hand on you!” Jumping onto my left shoulder, he began to admonish me: “Just think about it, why do you need this? They will torture you to death, that’s all. And there are still so many interesting things in the world... Why ruin your life for nothing? Especially now, when you have me and papers for twelve thousand in gold! Do you know how we can turn around?! We will eat on gold, sleep on silk, drink the best wines, and enjoy the first beauties of the world... It will not be life, but a fairy tale, I promise you!” Seeing that I was not very impressed by such a sweet prospect, he continued with fervor: “Yes, in a couple of years of your absence, all today's problems will simply disappear! And you, if you want, can return here as a real hero - on a white horse! You will no longer be some guard, but a ruling lord! And not just a lord - a king! And no one will even dare to look at you sideways! And this sweet little bitch will fawn before you and beg you to lay her on her back!"

//"Is that all?" I asked, almost laughing. What a horned businessman! You can't buy a title. And there are no free kingdoms to proclaim yourself king of. So all this is just meaningless chatter. But, not considering it necessary to argue with the demon, I remarked, just to get him off his nonsense: "You forgot that you can't hide from the magicians. We won't have time to leave the city before Sir Roderick catches us and drags us to the chopping block."

Having gotten up from the table, I wandered into the living room.

//"Then I'll rid you of the marks in a moment!" The imp jumped from my shoulder to the wicker basket standing by the door. "And no magicians will ever find us!"

//“From what marks?” I didn’t get it.

//“From search markers,” said the demon and quickly explained, without any abstruseness: “These are such things that the magicians put on you so that they can find you without hassle at any time.”

However, even without explanations, I already understood what he was talking about as soon as I heard the familiar name.

//“So, are there a lot of them on me?” I asked, finally realizing how the uninvited guests knew where to look for me.

//"Three. One from each of the girls and one from the old man."

//“I see,” I said and urged the imp. “So go ahead and get rid of them.”

The horned one disappeared and reappeared when I was already settling into a soft chair, from which it was convenient to observe the front door. //"That's it, you can run!" he declared contentedly.

//"Great," I praised him and, yawning, leaned back in my chair, sprawled like a sovereign lord. Looking at the imp, I closed one eye and snored.

//"Oh, you stupid animal!" the imp exploded, realizing that I was making fun of him and wasn't going to run away. After running around the table for a while, he stopped and grinned maliciously: "Oh, well, I'll laugh soon too. When that terribly evil bitch comes back to skin a donkey! And you just lie there, lie there. Wait!"

//"I'll wait," I grinned, pleased with how I had played the imp, and to my own advantage. And the horned one turned his back on me and, snorting contemptuously, disappeared.

He's stupid, what can I say? I told him right away that I wasn't going to run away. He didn't believe me...

I stretched out my legs, closed my eyes, and, having driven the chaotic thoughts out of my head, which had already begun to crack, began to wait for the guests. And there could be no doubt that they would come.

Fortunately, the anticipation of the coming storm did not turn into soul-destroying torment. As usual, I did what Tier Logren, the foreign sword master, taught us – I mentally distanced myself from what was happening. In principle, this is not difficult at all, but few of his many students were able to master this science. I was lucky at the time. At that time, I had to work part-time as a security guard in taverns, and this greatly influenced my training. Here, you either go crazy, spending whole nights in this noise and din and keeping an eye on all the visitors at once, or you learn to maintain mental balance and concentrate only on important things. However, it is still good that the night jobs are over…

I dozed off completely without noticing it. The fatigue that had accumulated over these three hectic days had done its dirty work… But, to my unspeakable surprise, I woke up in a chair, not on the chopping block. And the door was intact. Which meant that no one had come…

How could this be? Surely the nobles couldn't let me do something like that? It's unbelievable... If not Sir Roderick himself, then Lady Caitlin had to come back to get even with me.

I stretched and winced. Falling asleep in the chair wasn't the best idea. My whole body ached. And I felt so tired, as if I hadn't been resting, but had been toiling in a quarry.

I stood up and was about to go wash up, but before I had taken a couple of steps, I fell back into the chair. I tore my boots off my feet and began to scratch my heels furiously. Pieces of burnt flesh flew to the sides, revealing my tender pink skin.

“It’s so creepy,” I took a breath a little later, when the itching in my feet subsided a little.

However, there is nothing to complain about. It is great that the healing was so fast. With such a recovery ability, there is no need to be afraid of light wounds. But the imp, of course, is unlikely to agree to play the role of a taliar for me.

After washing, I drank and put my shoes on again. Scratching the back of my head, I put on my hat, put on my belt with my weapon, and headed for the front door. I couldn't sit it out in the hole anyway. That meant I had to solve the problems that had arisen. Drop by the council to make arrangements regarding the estate I had won, and head straight to the commandant. For a heart-to-heart talk. If I could get through to him.

Coming out onto the porch, I looked around. But no miracle happened. No free cabs were rolling past my house. And where would they come from... Our neighborhood may not be inhabited by poor people, but no one will spend money on empty entertainment. Therefore, catching a cab near my house is a lost cause.

Sighing, I locked the door and hobbled down a practically deserted street, not quite where I needed to go. I wouldn't be able to get to the office on my own, but I could probably shuffle to the market square. Although I feel like even this not-too-long walk won't bring me any joy... My feet are itching terribly.

However, everything turned out not to be as scary as it seemed at the very beginning. Either I got used to stepping gently, or I got used to it, but I was able to walk quite quickly and without cursing Lady Caitlin all the time. The afternoon heat was much more annoying. The air was so hot that it was scary to breathe it in - it would scorch everything inside.

I stopped under an awning stretched over the sidewalk near the shop of the tier Sirmag, from whom I usually bought food when I was too lazy to drag myself to the market. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and caught my breath. Hearing the light patter of feet, I turned around. Herbert, a peddler from the only tavern on our street, was catching up with me.

"Tier Steini!" he waved some kind of bundle at me. "Wait!"

"What do you want, Herbert?" I asked in surprise when the slightly out-of-breath boy ran up to me.

"Yes, here," he thrust a small cylindrical object wrapped in white paper into my hands. "They asked me to give this to you, but you went the wrong way. Not past us. So I ran after you."

“And who gave it to me?” I asked, looking in bewilderment at the inscription carefully written in black ink on the wrapping paper: “To Tier Karridan Steini. Personal delivery.”

“I don’t know,” Herbert shrugged.

“Okay, then go,” I said, rubbing my forehead in confusion, and then came to my senses: “Wait, did you at least get a coin?”

"Well, what do you expect from the boss?" the boy snorted. "If they left anything, he grabbed it all for himself."

"Well, here you go then." Having fished a copper coin out of the pleasantly heavy purse, I handed it to the beaming Herbert.

Brushing aside the boy's thanks, I quietly walked on, twisting the paper-wrapped object in my hands: either a case or a tube. What could they have given me?.. And, most importantly, who?.. The beautiful handwriting with curls, a little out of place when writing the addressee's name, seemed to hint that this was the work of a girl, and the barely perceptible aroma of roses confirmed this thought. But the fact is that none of the girls I know uses such perfume. And there is no reason for any of them to send me parcels.

A completely stupid thought suddenly came into my head, and I froze in my tracks. Where did I read about this?.. About an ancient tradition, according to which a person who has committed an unworthy act is sent a dagger so that he commits ritual suicide by cutting open his belly with a serrated blade, and thus preserves his honor. Such a short dagger with a wide blade would fit just right in this case...

My mood dropped sharply. This was the kind of gift Lady Caitlin could have easily sent. There was no point in blabber-talking about my familiarity with the concepts of honor and dignity, even though I was not noble.

"Stand still and don't move!" some jerk hissed in my ear, having approached unnoticed while I was completely absorbed in thoughts about the package I had received. A sharp needle stabbed my side, making it clear that it was better to listen to this freak who had taken me by surprise.

"I'm standing," I said, not even twitching. Nothing good would come of it anyway. Guards had been pierced in this way more than once, taking advantage of the fact that an awl or a sharpened knitting needle easily passed through the chainmail inserts on the sides of the armor. Two such craftsmen had already been sent to the chopping block, and another had been kicked to death while trying to put up malicious resistance during an arrest. However, it seems that not all the scoundrels were caught...

But I was not given the chance to assess the situation and pull off some kind of trick. A cab pulled up to us, and I was pushed inside. Some bastard immediately punched me in the cheekbone. While I was trying to get rid of the sparks flickering before my eyes, they took my weapon away and squeezed me onto the seat between two strong men. And despite all this, the needle pressing against my left side did not go away. Damn overcautious people... But at least they didn't kill me right away, which means not all is lost.

Having recovered a little from the heavy blow to the face, I carefully looked around. The bastard sitting on the right turned out to be familiar to me.

"What, Shcherbaty, are you yearning for the chopping block?" I smiled evilly.

Instead, the thug with the broken nose sitting opposite me answered. He hit me in the jaw with a short blow and laughed vilely:

"Well, guard, how do you like it?"

"A lot," I replied, licking the blood from my split lip and giving the freak a promising look. "We'll get even yet..."

"That's great," the vile bastard grinned and immediately hit me again. Then he grabbed me by the hair and, pulling me towards him, hissed: "Sit still and don't yelp! Or Crab will have to douse you with water to bring you to your senses when we deliver you to him." And, pushing me away, he looked at me expectantly, apparently hoping that I would blurt out something else. But I had already learned everything that was required, and I had no desire to chat with the kidnappers.

It didn't turn out well... While I was expecting trouble from one side, disaster struck from another. And now Lady Caitlin is unlikely to be able to get even with me. These scoundrels aren't going to be polite with me: it's clear right away that they don't intend to let me go alive. They'll cut me to pieces for the lost five hundred gold pieces and throw me under the piers.

//“Imp!” I called to my tailed companion.

//“What?” he asked sullenly, appearing in front of me.

//‘I'd like to ask about wound healing... Could you help me a little and pull together the side pierced by the spoke?’

//‘It'll heal itself,’ grumbled the horned one, without even mentioning the difficult situation I found myself in. ‘I told you: it's easier for me to stimulate your body's ability to heal itself than to patch up the holes myself every time. Just don't forget to eat afterwards.’ And he disappeared.

"What's that you've got there? asked the thug sitting opposite me, nodding at the parcel I still hadn't let go of. Without waiting for permission, he took the package from me. He read the inscription on the wrapping, sniffed it, and grinned: "From a woman, is it?"

I kept silent. I just needed to find the right moment to escape from here...

"Let's see what's there, Grub?" Shcherbaty couldn't resist. "Maybe something useful."

"Do you think women give this brat expensive gifts?" The thug doubted, but decided to check and started tearing off the wrapping paper.

A few moments later, he had in his hands a small tube lined with black velvet. Such exquisite boxes, although perhaps of a different shape, are usually used to present jewelry as a gift.

Luckily, my captors were a little distracted. As soon as the thug opens the case, I'll elbow the freak with the spoke and roll out of the cab. There might never be such a good moment to escape again. I'm ready.

Grub pulled off the lid on one end of the cylindrical case and peered inside. Black lightning flashed, and everyone shuddered. Grub screamed in a bad voice, trying to tear off the tiny coal-black snake that had grabbed his nose...

A deadly poisonous black snake... My plan for liberation went down the drain. We all rushed out of the carriage at once, forgetting who was the kidnapper and who was the captive, until this tailed shit bit everyone.

The only thing I managed to do was jump out through the left door, following the freak with the spear. Shcherbaty won't go anywhere. He's a well-known figure. But the scoundrel who knows how to use the weapon that kills guards must not be allowed to escape. The third character in the drama that unfolded, Grub, no longer interested me. And who would care how far a dead man could run? No one survives a black snake bite.

I landed safely on my feet, but still couldn't keep my balance and tumbled over, hitting a lamppost with my shoulder. Cursing under my breath, I jumped up and, ignoring the carriage driving away, rushed after the fellow with the spoke. He was luckier than I. He made a soft landing right on a stout townswoman returning from the market and was therefore unharmed during the jump. He got to his feet before me and rushed away.

Rushing after him, I jumped over the scattered groceries of the screaming woman and, picking up the empty basket from the pavement, threw it at the feet of the fleeing villain. He stumbled and fell to the ground. However, he was not hurt at all and immediately began to get up. And he would have gotten up, if not for me. Encouraged by my success, I rushed up to the scoundrel and kicked him in the groin, forcing him to sprawl out on the pavement again.

But I couldn't beat up and tie the asshole with a knitting needle like I planned. Shcherbaty, dumb idiot, instead of running away, rushed at me with all his might. With a decent knife. And my weapon was left in the carriage that sped away...

At least my belt remained intact. And while Shcherbaty was running towards us, I managed to arm myself with a makeshift mace by wrapping the belt around my right hand. Of course, such a weapon would be useless against an armoured warrior – the buckle was too light, but it would deal a serious blow to an unprotected opponent. Especially if you hit him on the head.

"What, are you running to surrender?" I greeted Shcherbaty with a smirk. "Commendable, commendable."

"Let's part ways amicably, guard," suggested the bandit, playing with his knife. "We'll go one way, you go the other. Don't tempt me into sin... I don't have blood on my hands, and I don't want to get dirty."

"So why didn't you run away right away?" I asked. "No one would have chased after you."

"I can't abandon my nephew," Shcherbaty shook his head, glancing briefly at the grunt who lay motionless, showing no signs of life.

"Kindred feelings are a good thing," I said approvingly, listening to check if the guards patrolling the streets of Kelm were approaching the scene of the commotion. "And it's more fun to pass the time in prison together."

"And there won't be any prison," Shcherbaty said lazily and made such a sharp lunge that I barely managed to jump back. "I'll just kill you."

"There were many of you like that," I replied quietly, watching closely as the knife flew from hand to hand.

In principle, it would be most advantageous for me to stall for time, but it is too dangerous to play games with such a nimble opponent. Knocking the knife out of his hands, at least. Then it would be a different matter.

Scherbaty was clearly in a hurry. The grey blade flying in front of him suddenly darted towards me and almost slashed my chest. I barely dodged the wide swing of the knife. And with my belt turned into a flail, I almost knocked myself out. Scherbaty, the bastard, seemed to know the weaknesses of such weapons much better than I did and simply blocked my blow with his free hand. He wasn't afraid, the bastard... And he won, avoiding the blow with his buckle.

Jumping back, I grabbed the belt differently. And I almost cursed in frustration. The man pretending to be unconscious immediately rolled behind his uncle and jumped to his feet. And immediately pulled a long, sharp awl from his sleeve. I was wrong about the spoke...

Fighting two opponents at once is a dubious pleasure. And the chances of winning are completely different. Everyone understood this perfectly well. Shcherbatyi even began to smirk. Then I took a risk: lunging forward, I hit him square in the forehead with my buckle. Stunned by the blow, Shcherbatyi waved his knife at me, hoping to scare me off, but that was exactly what I was counting on. Try blocking a short knife strike, but when the knife comes in a wide arc, and with an outstretched arm... It would be a sin not to seize the moment.

Grabbing Shcherbaty's hand with my left hand, which was clutching a knife, I leapt forward and rammed my right elbow into the exposed throat of the notorious Kelm robber. It must have been painful for him. For me, too, for that matter. Although I had almost dealt with one opponent, the second managed to reach me. The bastard turned out to be even more agile than his uncle! He quickly slid towards us and stabbed me in the side with an awl. I didn't even have time to block the blow or dodge it completely. Luckily, it didn't go in very deep... And it didn't hurt at all.

Pushing away the wheezing Shcherbaty, I turned my attention to his nephew. An awl it's not a knife; he has no chance. Unless, of course, the imp didn't lie about the healing of wounds.

I squinted and noticed only a small blood stain on the jacket. No big deal. It's just a shame about the new clothes.

There was only one enemy left, but that didn't bring much relief. Khmyr was so fast that I couldn't caress that beast with a buckle between the eyes. Moreover, he managed to stab me with his damn awl six more times.

Khmyr grinned insolently, and this completely enraged me. It was as if he was playing with me - dodging the swings of the belt and not forgetting to tickle me with an awl. Incredibly flexible and agile - as if not a man, but some kind of inhuman!

Throwing away my unsuccessful flail, I pounced on Shcherbaty's nephew without a weapon. But he dodged my fists just as quickly. And my strength seemed to be melting away. Everything around me began to sink into darkness.

I shook my head, dispersing the fog before my eyes. Because of this, I didn't have time to react to the super-fast attack. A moment ago, he was two steps away from me, and suddenly he was very close... He came up practically right next to me. And my legs couldn't hold me up anymore.

"This is for my uncle," said Shcherbaty's nephew in a hissing voice, preventing me from falling. And he pulled the awl out of my side.

And I didn't even have the strength to break his nose and wipe the nasty grin off his face. I was only standing because Khmyr was holding me on my feet.

But I still managed to grab him by the collar of his jacket with both hands. Swinging back, I gathered all my will into a fist and, jerking forward, slammed my forehead into the bastard's nose. And then I felt another blow with an awl in my side. Either I was completely weakened, or Shcherbaty's nephew was too tough. Any other man of his build would have been knocked out or at least stunned by such a blow to the nose.

Enraged at my own weakness, I hit the bastard with my head again. He staggered, but stayed on his feet and stuck the awl under my ribs. This finally drove me crazy, and I delivered the next five or six headbutts without stopping. Shcherbaty's nephew's nose was no longer a mess, but a mess, and his eyes were frozen in amazement, but he continued to poke me with his bastard awl. Some kind of unkillable creature, not a decent thug.

And yet, with the seventh or eighth blow, I knocked him down. But I didn't knock him out completely. In my opinion, he began to come to his senses too quickly. And I finally believed that fate had brought me together in a duel with an inhuman. And that meant that I wouldn't be able to beat my opponent, even if I was full of strength.

Luckily, my belt was still lying nearby. Having punched the bastard with the head again, I pulled the strap up and wrapped it around the non-human's neck. Everyone needs to breathe... And that was the last thought that flashed through my head before I passed out.

* * *

“Well, how is he?” someone’s muffled voice reached me.

"It's okay, Roald. He'll get better," came the equally vague answer.

I had the impression that my ears were blocked by something, since I could not recognize the foreman's voice.

“So there’s nothing to fear?” Roald clarified.

"Nothing," they assured him. "Shallow wounds are not dangerous at all. Kar will soon come to his senses, and in a couple of decades, he will forget about this incident."

“That’s unlikely,” someone intervened.

"Lance, are you trying to undermine my guys again?!'

“That’s my job,” the investigator snapped back and said more calmly, “Judge for yourself, Timir, how can you leave such a case without investigation? Your guard... Or your foreman? Although it doesn’t matter. In short, your subordinate is doing God knows what! What did the patrol that discovered him report? At the scene of the crime, Tier Karridan Steini was found in a state of complete insanity, strangling a certain person with his personal belt. Moreover, it became clear at first glance that the poor victim had been dead for quite a long time! Or, more accurately, beaten to death! And there’s another corpse lying nearby with a broken throat! According to eyewitnesses, it was the guard’s fault. These two poor souls who died jumped out of the moving carriage, and Tier Steini jumped out right after them and, having caught up with them, began to beat them to death! And how can you let this go unnoticed?!"

"Don't talk nonsense, Lance..." The centurion softened his tone slightly. "One of the dead men is Shcherbaty, a notorious criminal. And the other had an awl... You understand what that means. Perhaps Karridan had a good reason to start all this."

"And you can easily forget about the second one," Tier Eldar intervened in the conversation. "This is not a human. Some kind of vile chengeling with an admixture of human blood."

"There!" the centurion said happily. "So there was no murder! More like the performance of official duties!" And, thinking for a moment, he asked in bewilderment: "How did he defeat him with his bare hands? That chengeling..."

//‘This is nonsense,’ I thought. ‘I must be dying and hallucinating... Where have you ever seen someone unarmed defeat a shapeshifter who is faster, stronger, and more agile than any human? Only one thing is strange. If I am dead, what are Roald, Timi,r and the investigator with the healer doing here?’

Opening my eyes, I saw that I was in the hospital of the council, and not in the black and white chambers of the Court, where they decide whether my soul will ascend to heaven or go to the Lower World, to the amusement of demons. And I sighed with relief. It is good to be alive... And I cannot die until I get rid of the imp. Otherwise, I will definitely not see a decent afterlife.

"Don't even think about getting up!" Tier Eldar swooped down on me like a hawk, while the others, suddenly falling silent, watched as I tried to get up from the couch. "Now you'll have to lie there! For at least a decade!"

"Why on earth would I?" I asked hoarsely and complained, "I'm so hungry my jaws are aching."

"And no food for two days!" They categorically dismissed my suggestion that it would be a good idea to feed the guard who had been injured in the fight with the vile werewolves. "You can't joke around with injuries like that!"

"Which ones?" I asked, concentrating on my sensations. "Nothing hurts."

Tier Eldar looked puzzled and began to fiddle with the bandage on my left side. Taking a small bottle of pale green liquid, he poured it onto the bandages. Squinting, he glanced briefly at me. I did not react to his actions in any way. The healer grunted in surprise and removed the bandage. Then he beamed:

"So that's how Sir Roderick solved your problem!"

"What are you talking about?" the centurion asked him, not understanding.

"The wounds on Kar healed faster than on a dog," the healer began to explain. "This is completely impossible unless the body's ability to regenerate is enhanced. And this, as you know, although not easy, is quite feasible. There are temporary means in the form of special potions or spells, as well as permanent ones caused by a change in the body or a magical connection with another being. I think I am not mistaken in assuming that Sir Roderick chose the second path to save Kera and used the ritual of Union." The old man smiled as he looked at the stunned faces of those gathered, undoubtedly shocked by his ability to reason logically. "So Kar won't need several decades of rest. He is already practically healthy thanks to his Taliar." Returning to examining the barely noticeable scars that my wounds had turned into, he muttered thoughtfully, "I wonder what kind of creature was used as a Taliar... Amazing ability to repair damaged tissue..."

//‘I'll have to thank the old man,’ I decided immediately. "I'll get him some valuable ingredients, for example, or order some kind of clever elixir from the capital. He helped me so much that I can't even begin to appreciate it. Now no one will have any questions about my unusual abilities. And I won't have to dodge and lie, coming up with plausible explanations."

"It was not for nothing that I sent you to Sir Roderick," Timur said with satisfaction and nudged the interrogator in the side: "That's how it is! What does it mean to be noble... And our Kar is not related to Sir Roderick in any way. Not a godfather, not a brother, not a matchmaker. But the commandant went and helped. He spared no effort, no time, no expensive artifacts to conduct the ritual of Unity." He looked condescendingly at the dissatisfied Lance: "And you, perhaps, will earn a noble prefix to your family name, drowning innocent guards in slop, but you will still remain the same scoundrel. And you will not earn respect for yourself."

"And yet I want to see a detailed report on what happened," Lance said coldly, his cheek twitching, clearly stung to the quick, and quickly left the room.

"You'll get a report..." the centurion muttered quietly after him and turned to me: "So how did you defeat the shapeshifter, Kar? And what happened there anyway?"

"If I had known he was a shapeshifter, I would have thought ten times before rushing to catch him," I grumbled. "But I didn't even suspect anything... I thought he was just a regular thug from the port ruffians."

"What did you get into with them?" asked Roald.

"That's how it turned out," I shrugged. "They wanted me to go with them to talk to Crab, but I had no desire to do so. Only they weren't interested in my opinion — threatening to kill me, they shoved me into a carriage and took me to their leader. Well, that gave me free rein."

"They decided to get even with you for the fact that you heated the gambling house out of a tidy sum?" Roald realized.

"It seems so."

"What is this? Has Crab become so insolent that he thinks he can do whatever he wants?" The centurion frowned and promised. "Well, we'll make his life miserable... He'll regret his actions." And, after thinking for a moment, he added. "For now, we'll record this as an attempted kidnapping. Let the investigators dig into him. Lance has nothing else to do anyway, and this way, he might actually earn his keep by exposing a criminal gang."

"I should eat something," I said thoughtfully, as I couldn't concentrate on the conversation because of the intense hunger that was tormenting me.

"Tier Eldar?" Timir looked at him questioningly.

"And what about me?" shrugged the old man. "My help is not needed by someone who has a Taliar." And he handed me a glass jar with a clear liquid that he had taken from the shelf: "Maybe this will come in handy... To remove blood from clothes. I wiped your face, but you'll have to take care of your clothes yourself."

"Yeah, Kar's face when they dragged him in was something!" The centurion chuckled, patting me lightly on the shoulder. "Just like a newly turned vampire going out on his first hunt, covered in blood!"

"Not at all," objected Tier Eldar. "What the shapeshifter's face has turned into is truly impressive. A complete mess... It must have been beaten long and hard with a sturdy club."

"I didn't have a club," I muttered, slightly embarrassed, and set about removing the bloodstains from my jacket. It's brand new... Maybe it will still be usable. I just need to clean it thoroughly. Otherwise, I won't have enough winnings if I have to buy new clothes every day.

"So how did you defeat him?" asked the centurion. Seeing the reluctance written all over my face to go into details about the fight with the werewolf, whom I had apparently knocked out not with a sturdy club, but with my own head, he reproached me: "It's not good, Kar, to hide such important knowledge from your comrades. What if someone else, God forbid, has to fight shapeshifters? It would be wise to teach everyone such cunning techniques."

"How, how," I sighed and told him about the battle with Shcherbaty and his inhuman nephew. I pleased Timir with a story about how well the guardsmen had mastered the military science that had been drummed into their heads.

"So, for the most part, you were just lucky. The shapeshifter simply didn't expect to encounter someone with a Taliar," Timir concluded, shaking his head regretfully. "No, we can't spread this method of destroying non-humans to the entire guard."

“And everyone’s head is not so strong,” Roald chuckled.

"Yes, that's true," the centurion chuckled and asked, "So what were you talking about, Kar, about food? Are you going to go get a bite to eat?"

“Of course,” I nodded, swallowing the saliva that immediately appeared at the mention of food.

"Then I'll join you," the centurion decided and complained, "I guess, I haven't had a crumb in my mouth for a whole day. With this attack on the mayor... The Third Department went crazy. To close the gates for them, and send reinforced patrols through the streets, and allocate people for the raid... From night until, you might say, noon, everyone was running around like clockwork."

“So, they didn’t catch the mayor’s killer?” I perked up.

"Who knows, these silent ones from the Third Department," the centurion waved his hand in annoyance. "They don't really explain anything. They said that the job was done and the guards' help was no longer needed."

"They hardly needed help at all," I noted, pulling on my blood-cleaned jacket. "They got everyone up to make a fuss... But in reality... You can't catch a hiding mage just by combing the city."

I sighed to myself. It would be a shame, of course, if they really caught Angel and didn't stop searching because of the lack of results. It wasn't really her fault. It was just the way things worked out...

"Yes, everyone understands that," Timir nodded in agreement, "but you can't go against the rules. We are required to assist the Security Service, so we have to do useless work." And he said indignantly, "They don't catch mice in the Third Department! Two hundred healthy men chasing around the city for almost a day to catch one girl! A normal search team could handle that! Or they could hire bounty hunters, since they can't handle such a simple task themselves."

“Okay, let’s go have a bite to eat,” I suggested. “On an empty stomach, all you want to do is swear.”

Leaving the council office, we stood for a moment in the shade under the gabled canopy hanging over the entrance, on the pediment of which was displayed a stern grey-steel emblem in the form of a shield with crossed swords and a crown above. Only when we had become somewhat accustomed to the stifling heat enveloping the street did we venture out into the scorching sun. Alas, Uter Avenue is very wide, and there is no escape from the scorching midday sun in this stone trough. Without consulting each other, we quickened our hurried journey to the Herring.

"I wish the rain would stop already," muttered Roald as he walked. "Otherwise, the stones will soon start melting from the heat."

"Of course, we need rain, but after such a heatwave, we'll only get a typhoon," Timir remarked.

And I just nodded. The heat is half the trouble, but what damage a storm in the harbour can cause... And it's not so much the heat that's the problem as the stuffiness. And all because of those damned inhuman creatures and predatory beasts that lurk in the darkness... Because of them, the drains cannot be made underground. And the channels dug in the middle of the streets and covered with thick larch slabs with the prescribed three slits per square foot are no good at all. The seawater running through them evaporates, which is why it's so stuffy.

However, none of that matters much right now. There are enough problems as it is... And the biggest one isn't even the impending showdown with the Night Guild, but the vindictiveness of a certain young lady. Who would have thought of sending a poisonous snake as a gift! What did I do to her to resort to such gruesome methods of killing? ... Bitch! Even if she is stunningly attractive.

We reached the Herring very quickly. The hall was pleasantly cool, thanks to Tiera Olm: he frequently checked on Gart and constantly renewed the ‘Cool Cover’ cast over the hall. We sat down at one of the free tables. There was plenty of room. Although it was lunchtime, there were almost no visitors. People would come later, when the heat subsided.

Otherwise, you'll step outside into this heat and immediately lose your appetite. But, of course, that doesn't apply to me. Right now, I wouldn't turn my nose up at stale bread crusts — I'm so hungry.

However, Gart disappointed me – he had enough decent food, but there was a problem with dry bread crusts. Which is actually not bad, but very good indeed. I polished off a double portion of meat casserole with tomatoes and cheese in no time. And on top of that, I had a nice piece of honey cake with raisins. With cold milk – just the thing.

"You've really worn out the youth, Timir," remarked Gart, glancing at me with a smirk. "They're even afraid to order drinks in front of you. They're sticking to milk now."

"We'll order it if we need to," the centurion did not support his joking tone.

Gart left the table. Watching him go, Timir turned to Roald:

"We should organize security for Kar... What do you think?"

"We have to," Roald agreed. "The night folk are unlikely to calm down right away. They won't settle down until they get a taste of their own medicine."

"Then form a pair from your ten, and let them take turns accompanying Kar," said the centurion. "That will do for now, and we'll see what happens next."

"Don't bother," I said, moving away from the table. "Thank you for your concern, of course, but there's no need to involve anyone else in this."

"Why is that?" the centurion asked in surprise. "Do you want to deal with Crab yourself?" He frowned and shook his head. "No, Kar, it's not right to take the law into your own hands and refuse the help of the brotherhood."

"All this trouble with the Night Guild is nonsense," I said and sighed. "After this failed attack, it's not in Crab's interest to try to get me again. He's not stupid. He understands that they'll immediately blame him. I'll be on my guard now." I paused for a moment. "You can't protect me from the mages. Only the lads might get hurt for nothing."

"Our commandant left and didn't come back to sort everything out properly?" Roald asked, frowning and rubbing his forehead. "That's another problem..."

"What's that?" Timir looked at us in turn, puzzled.

"Kar managed to get involved with the commandant's granddaughter," Roald replied. "And now it's unclear how it will end - with a wedding or the chopping block..."

“Have you seen Sir Roderick’s granddaughter?” Roald decided, apparently, to cheer me up a little, looking at my sad-sad face.

"Yes, that's true," the nodding centurion scratched his chin. "His granddaughter is breathtakingly beautiful.

And I nodded, looking at the centurion with respect. I still have to live another fifty years to learn how to convey the essence of someone's image in just a few words. Caitlin really is stunningly beautiful...

And Timur, looking sideways at me, remarked:

"But still, it's not worth it. They'll gnaw Kar. The relatives of this noble maiden will gnaw him. They won't accept a simple guard into the family. And the estate Kar won won't change anything. Aristocrats, damn them."

"We'll figure it out," I said, standing up, tired of the unpleasant conversation. "The Creator will grant, everything will work out."

"What about my service?" I was concerned about the problem that arose due to the help of the imp. "I’m supposedly healthy, and therefore I’m not entitled to exemption from service…"

The centurion surprised me with such news, to be sure. An unexpected decision for the city council, to put it mildly. The only bad thing is that nothing even stirred in my soul. But what a reason for joy... A promotion, which I could only dream of before. Now I don't give a damn about it. With such worries, a heavy burden lies on my shoulders.

"Where are you planning to go now, Kar?" asked Roald.

"I'll probably go to see Tier Covan," I answered, breaking free from my thoughts. "I promised to pay him a visit."

"Then we'll meet at the square near the office," Roald said, quickly calculating something. "I'll pop in with the guys to talk about keeping an eye on you, and then I'll be free."

That was the decision. We went out into the street without much desire and quickly headed to the Щаашсу. Only at the square did we part ways. I had to go around the building and enter from Bell Street to at least somewhat calm down my upset feelings and prepare for a conversation with Covan, which could have very unpleasant consequences.

Having run into the Third Department, I sighed with relief:

"U-f-f-f..."

"What, is it hot?" a young man running past with a stack of papers in his hands asked cheerfully.

"Oh yes," I nodded, looking at a very young lad in grey trousers and an ordinary linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Probably a contract worker. There are almost more of them in the Third Department than there are employees, who number less than twenty. To be honest, no one knows the exact number of employees... Things are different for them than for other people. One grey-coated man appears, and then he's gone. They were sent to a new place of service. Instead of him, they sent another employee. Or two. Or no one at all. How can you work like that? It's all fuss and no sense. Although, of course, the main work is done by the Security Service employees. They are, so to speak, voluntary assistants. True, they still get paid.

Having caught my breath a little in the cool hall of the council, I gathered my courage and went straight to Tier Covan's office. I knocked, sincerely hoping that no one would answer and that I could go home in peace, and turned the door handle.

But my hopes were in vain. Tier Covan was there. He was discussing something with a rather elderly man.

“Ah, Tier Steini,” said Covan, distracted for a moment from the conversation, and kindly suggested, “Come in, come in.”

He said something quietly to his interlocutor. The latter looked at me with curiosity. He nodded goodbye to the owner of the office and left.

"Maybe I'm in the way?" I asked cautiously, somewhat puzzled by this reception. Covan wasn't a small fry in the Third Department, and I wasn't some kind of ruling lord for him to drop everything for my sake. He could have told me to wait... Any minor bureaucrat in his place would have done the same.

"No, no, nothing like that," said the employee of the Third Department, having seated me on a chair. "I just sorted out the main business. So you are just in time. By the way, thank you for responding so quickly to my invitation."

"Come on, don't say that." I pretended to be embarrassed, but I became even more alert. Why are they being so friendly to me?

"So," sitting down opposite me, Tier Covan began the conversation. "Why did I invite you..." He paused, as if remembering something, and continued: "I am worried about your future, Tier Steini."

"Why all of a sudden?" I involuntarily swallowed my saliva and asked as calmly as possible. Although my soul was very uneasy. What if the Security Service found out that I was harboring a criminal?

"Something that you have shown yourself to be a man who serves the Empire with dignity," Covan misinterpreted my question. I was more interested in the reasons that had prompted him to show concern than in the grey-uniformed man's motives. I wanted to know what danger threatened me in the future.

“Thank you, of course, for such flattering words,” I said. “But can’t you get closer to the point?”

“It’s all about your winnings from yesterday,” explained Covan, starting to rummage through a desk drawer.

"You about Lady Angel?" I went cold. And bit my lip. It seemed they had found out everything.

"No, no," the grey-uniformed man shook his head, momentarily tearing himself away from searching for something he suddenly needed. "Everything is clear with her." And, coughing into his fist, he corrected himself: "Well, or almost everything."

“So, they say she killed our mayor?” I asked, having calmed down a little.

“Yes,” Covan nodded and grinned, “True, he doesn’t want to admit it yet.”

"So, you caught her after all?" I frowned. It was stupid, of course, to expect that Angel had escaped from the city, but I hoped for a miracle until the very end. There was a tiny chance that she had escaped the Third Department, and the search had been stopped, realizing its futility. And, as usual, they calmed the alarmed townspeople, declaring that everything was fine, the villain had been caught. But no, Goldilocks was unlucky after all.

"Well, of course," Covan looked at me in surprise. "How could it be otherwise? The city was immediately closed and combed. And they found this young lady." The employee of the Third Department winced with annoyance: "Unfortunately, only after she had carried out her plan, leaving us without evidence and the opportunity to quickly find out the true background of the case."

“And what did she do?” I asked curiously.

"She got to the Market Square and drowned the head of Count de Seyt in a public toilet," Covan answered after a slight hesitation and sternly warned, "But don't even think of spreading this, Tier Steini. Rumours will certainly spread, but they must remain idle chatter."

“I didn’t even think of babbling too much,” I assured the grey-uniformed man.

Tier Covan nodded and continued:

"So where were we?.. Oh yes, on your ill-fated win... Well, you can't say that you were lucky yesterday..."

"That's for sure," I couldn't help but snort, remembering how the Night Guild got mad at me because of the money I won. "Now I need security."

"Are you talking about today's skirmish with local bandits?" Covan showed the expected knowledge. The whole city is probably talking about it already.

"Well, yes."

"That's not what I'm talking about," he shook his head. "The difficult situation with the Night Guild can be resolved." Rubbing his ear, he patted the folder he had taken from the desk drawer: "But the problem that the dear de Marco gave you is much more serious."

"He's not my friend!" I said with annoyance. "And I didn't help him escape from the Empire. And anyway, yesterday was the first time I saw him up close!"

"What are you talking about, Tier Steini?" Kovan looked at me in surprise. "I do not accuse you of helping Sir Tyler de Marco. And it would be surprising after his gift to you..." And, instantly alert, like a guard dog hearing the stealthy tread of a thief, he froze and, with some feigned laziness, inquired: "And how do you know that he disappeared from the Empire?"

"Well, this morning the bounty hunters showed up at my place," I replied. "They were looking for Sir Tyler." And, wincing, I added: "Crazy freaks... They almost cut me into pieces."

“And why did they retreat?” the grey-uniformed man asked eagerly.

"Lady Caitlin drove them away," I chuckled. "Even the magician didn't help them."

"Wait, wait," Kovan frowned. "What do you mean? It got to the point where Lady Caitlin had to use force to get these mongrels out of the house?"

"Well, basically yes," I nodded, seeing no point in hiding this fact.

"Oh, how bad," Covan clicked his tongue, shaking his head in displeasure. And he asked: "Did they by any chance give their name? These so-called headhunters?"

"By names, perhaps... Bambo, Gus, and Jerod."

"Ah, famous people!" Covan calmed down a little and, scribbling something on a clean sheet of paper, promised: "It’s okay, we’ll figure it out."

"The Third Department is now engaged in protecting honest citizens from bounty hunters?" I asked to dispel my confusion.

"No, of course not, but in this case..."

"In what 'this case'?" I was not satisfied with a meaningful hint that did not explain anything.

"Well, Tier Steini." Covan looked at me like I was stupid. "How can I allow such an abomination to befall my city? Well, how will Lady Caitlin tell anyone about this egregious incident? To her sister, for example. So what should I do? When Count de Noëlle calls me and asks why some scoundrel dares to bother my wife’s sister?" And, having firmly written something else on the sheet, summed up: "No. Today, these hunters will be transferred to the inner prison. Sit for a year or two, and there will be. Maybe they’ll get smart at the same time."

"Such a..." Only at the last moment did I swallow the dirty curse. This was the only thing missing for complete happiness... The head of the Third Department is married to Caitlin's sister! As if her grandfather, the military commandant, wasn't enough! Damn... And the devil, the beast, even suggested running away! We would have run far from the omnipresent clutches of the Security!

"It’s all right, they will," said the Coven. He must have thought that I was impressed by his decision to lock up the citizens of the Empire in a dungeon without trial. And he remarked: "It will be good for them. If Lady Caitlin is really mad at them, I won’t give a penny for their lives."

"Have there been precedents?" I grinned crookedly, trying to push away the very dark assumptions about what would be done to me by the reactionary subordinates of Count de Noel for the offense inflicted on his kin.

“Of course,” nodded Сovan, moving the papers in front of him, and warned: “But remember, Tier Steini, this is for your ears only.”

"Yes, I understand."

"Then listen. Lady Caitlin, as you could not help but notice, is an unusually extravagant person... And, unfortunately, very hot-tempered. This, coupled with her enormous magical power, gives rise to a whole host of problems. For example, just six months ago, she showed up at a dinner party hosted by the Duchess of Outgate in a completely wild man's outfit for an aristocrat. In general, Lady Caitlin caused a furor with her appearance... Although why she needed this, no one understands. After all, it is hard not to notice her anyway. Well, and so... Marquis Faulk, the recently appointed Aquitaine ambassador, was struck dead by the provocation that the lady arranged. And he committed an inappropriate act... Being quite drunk, he could not resist the temptation to pat Lady Caitlin on the ass..."

"So what?" I hurried the silent Covan. The story seemed interesting. It would be interesting to find out, not on my own skin, what would have awaited me if I had not been too lazy to get up then.

"And that's it," Covan spread his hands. "There is no more Aquitanian ambassador... He ascended to the heavens like a fiery meteor... And the ashes could not be collected. Neither his own magical powers nor the most powerful protective amulets saved the marquis." Rubbing his ear, he added, "As Sir Roderick says, his granddaughter is not inferior in strength to actual masters even under normal conditions, and if she gets seriously angry, then it would be better for an archmage not to approach her. It is fraught with unpleasant consequences for health..."

"Yeah, right," was all I could say. I felt like even buying the strongest protective amulet wouldn't help me. "So what, Lady Caitlin wasn't punished for such a prank? After all, a publicly committed murder isn't so easy to hush up."

"Why should she be punished? The insult took place, so the lady was within her rights."

"And yet, the murder of the ambassador of another state..."

"And what about the ambassador? They'll send a new one. Smarter. No one throws away the strong Gifted, who are undoubtedly loyal to the Empire. There are too few of them left after the rebellion of the archmages. So Lady Caitlin was only scolded a little and excommunicated from the court for a while. The Emperor himself, they say, was rather lenient about the prank of his distant, but still relative, and was more angry at the impudent ambassador. But Lady Caitlin's parents begged him to punish their daughter like that. They wanted to bring her to her senses by excommunicating her from the capital's amusements... Her father found her a suitable occupation - he sent her to restore order to one of the estates far from the capital. It seems that the non-humans there have completely gone wild - they make life difficult for the peasants."

"Is she related to our emperor?" I was completely in despair. The idea of ​​hanging myself immediately and not suffering was actually not so bad…

"Of course. Through her paternal grandmother. Duchess Elingor, as you probably know, is our Emperor's aunt."

"Timur was wrong... Caitlin's relatives won't tear me to pieces. They'll just throw me out into the open field and set the dogs on me... For such a prank on an aristocrat."

"Well, thank the Creator, at least Lady Caitlin is not our Emperor's daughter," I smiled palely. However, this option would have been even better. They would have killed me right away, without torturing me.

"Very well, Tier Steini, let us return to business," said Covan. "And as for Lady Catelyn's pedigree, you can ask her herself."

“Yeah,” I smiled wryly and forced myself to show a keen interest in what the grey-uniformed man wanted to tell me.

“So,” Covan continued, tapping his fingers on the folder with papers, “I have learned that several groups of Redimers will soon appear in Kelm…

“And what do I care about them?” I was sincerely surprised. What do Redimers have to do with it?.. It’s not clear. Redimers are the common name for repentant sinners who are freed right at the scaffold by merciful holy fathers. So that the villains can earn forgiveness with good deeds and save their souls from falling into the Lower World. Of course, not many criminals are honored with such intercession from the holy ones. Only those who are ready to devote themselves to serving the good of the order. And then the former robbers and bandits do the most pious thing - they return the lost property to its owners. Or, to put it simply, they catch their old friends who did not abandon their criminal trade and dared to rob the money house belonging to the order, or plunder a trade caravan endowed with an insurance guarantee from the clergy. But I did not participate in anything like that…

"You may not care about them, but the Redimer care about you..." Covan interrupted the sentence meaningfully, but did not test my patience and continued: "Before his hasty departure from the capital, De Marco managed to take out loans from money lenders that were not secured at that time... Under the promise to pay them off with the estate that was going to him by inheritance..."

"What a mad dog!" I barely refrained from using an unflattering epithet towards that scoundrel Sir Tyler. How could he set me up like that! And he calls himself a noble.

"Yes, of course, de Marco acted badly," Covan supported me and noted, "But here the usurers themselves are to blame. Greed does not lead to good. I'm afraid to even imagine what percentage they demanded from Sir Tyler for a loan secured only by a noble word."

"What was that idiot even thinking about, starting such a scam?" I was seething with indignation. "Are there really still naive people among us who think they can hide from the long arms of the holy orders that own the moneylending firms?"

"I suppose Sir Tyler never thought of anything like that at all." Covan allowed himself a slight grin. "Alas, love drives people mad, and that's a fact."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, puzzled.

"About Sir Tyler's madness due to his passionate feelings for the young wife of Count Tirlen, our respected head of the treasury," Сovan smiled openly. "Only the intoxication of love could have driven the baron to such madness as an attempt to disappear from the Empire with someone else's wife. Although perhaps, they will succeed... In any case, they will have enough money to completely change their appearance."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, having cooled down a bit. "And I also gave them more than two thousand in gold... For a worthless piece of paper.

“But that’s not a fact,” Сovan perked up. “Of course, at the moment there’s a great danger that the Redimers will decide to take the easy way out, compensating the Order’s losses at the expense of the estate that belonged to de Marco, without looking for him himself. They’ll force you to make a voluntary donation, and that’s it. Or, if you’re stubborn, they might even press you. The money is serious. They’ll frame you for aiding the Darkness, and then the inquisitor brothers will take up the matter, quickly extract a sincere confession from you, and send you to the stake. And the property, as expected, will go to the priests.”

I rubbed my forehead vigorously and glanced at Covan from under my palm. He explains things well. You immediately believe him that it will be so. For such money, the priests could declare me the Dark Angel himself… Although that is not necessary. The imp I have is enough to send me to the stake… No, I cannot get involved with the churchmen now.

“So what now?” I asked Covan, who was impatiently tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

"We can easily and simply solve all your future troubles," he answered calmly. "If you agree to continue your service for the good of the Empire in one of the departments of our administration."

“Well, I don’t know,” I said, and thought about how things had turned out! I came here expecting something bad: that my complicity in harboring a wanted criminal had been revealed. But it turns out that it was all about my abilities, which interested the Third Department. They found out about my problems – and immediately offered mutually beneficial cooperation. But they can’t save me from all my troubles. Unfortunately.

"What's there not to know?" Covan seemed surprised. "Serving in the third department is a good thing." And he asked. "Or do you doubt it?" But I shook my head, denying such a blasphemous thought, and he continued: "Such an offer, I tell you, is not made to just anyone. Only to the most worthy people. So appreciate it."

“Well, I don’t understand a thing about your service,” I said simply, wondering what to do. “And I won’t be of any use.”

"It will work out," Covan assured me. "You have loyalty to the Empire, you have abilities, and experience is something that can be acquired. And service in the Seventh Department, in essence, is not much different from what you have been doing until now. All the same searches for forbidden magical objects."

"Really?" I scratched the back of my head, puzzled.

"Well, you didn't think that I would involve you in work in the First or Second Department," the grey-uniformed man smiled. "You must admit that you don't understand anything about intelligence work, and therefore you would be out of place there."

"No," I shook my head, "I didn't count on anything at all. I'm delighted with my service in the guard."

"Are you sure?" Covan narrowed his eyes slyly, smiling. "Are you completely satisfied with everything? And you never dreamed of making your way in life? Did you expect to trample boots until old age, patrolling the city?" And, becoming more serious, he added: "Perhaps that was how it was, Tier Steini, before you started this mess. And now there is no way back for you. You will not return to your quiet, peaceful service as the guard with your friends and buddies. Alas, but it is a fact. You took off sharply, Tier Steini. And if you do not start flapping your wings, you will fall and crash."

I looked away from the intelligence officer and out the window. He was right, damn him! No matter how much I wanted it, the old days would never come back. A sudden promotion, a won estate, a relationship with an aristocrat. Even if most of the rumors turned out to be untrue, the attitude towards me would be completely different.

"How much longer do you have until your recertification, Tier Steini?" Covan suddenly asked.

“A little over six months,” I replied, emerging from the viscous quagmire of joyless thoughts.

“Then there is another option,” answered Covan. “I see that you doubt whether service in the Third Department is right for you. Let’s arrange a temporary transfer for you to us. Work with us for six months until re-certification, see how it is, and then decide whether to continue serving in the Third Department or not. After all, we don’t need people who serve solely out of necessity, because they are of little use.” Having gotten up from the table, the grey-uniformed man put his hands behind his back and, as if he had lost interest in me, went to the window and stared at something on the street. Without looking at me, he continued the conversation: “Think about it, Tier Steini, think about it carefully. Perhaps this is your chance to find your calling. Again, you will travel around the country, have fun in new places, and during your absence, most of the troubles will resolve themselves. Maybe the dark ones will lose track of you…”

“Excuse me, what?” I asked, blinking stupidly, thinking that I had misheard.

"The comrades of the dark master you killed, I say, will probably lose you and won’t be able to take revenge," Covan answered, turning to me and shrugging his shoulders, looking at my dumbfounded face. Amazing news. "What did you expect? These are degenerates known for their terrible crimes. Their image cannot be spoiled in any way. Their entire hierarchy is based on fear. And here, a simple guard killed a master, lives and doesn’t give a damn."

"And why do I even need to serve if I'm about to be killed?" I asked gloomily, finally saying goodbye to my naive dreams that everything would work out and I would live like before, and even better. But the dark ones are not angry girls or stupid bandits. You can't reason with them.

“And it depends solely on your caution whether they kill you or not,” answered Covan. “The Dark Ones are still very limited in their capabilities. And it will not be easy for them to find you. Especially if you leave the city soon. Otherwise, not only will you be under attack, but also your friends, acquaintances, and neighbors. Look, in Tanger, one blood feud took a long time to escape revenge. And how did the Dark Ones catch him? In the evening, he went to drink tea at his neighbor’s, and she had turned the day before. Well, a young vampire bit him to death in bed. And what a cautious man Laurent was. But he could not protect himself from such a trick.” And, shaking himself, he continued: “So you’d better not sit still now, Tier Steini, and not wait for the Dark Ones to come up with a particularly sophisticated way to kill you."

"Let them take their place in line first," I muttered and scratched the back of my head. Damn... So, maybe it wasn't the mind-blowingly beautiful bitch who gave me the snake? Although she could have, she could..

"Such are the sad things," Covan summed up, pulling a mournful mask over his face. "Therefore, Tier Steini, you should not look for a catch in my offer. There is no calculation here. There is only a desire to help you in such a difficult situation. You will simply not live in Kelm until we reach the lair of the dark ones."

"Eh-eh!" I exhaled and waved my hand. "I agree to a temporary transfer." And I joked sadly: "The main thing is that in my new service I don't run into those ugly dark ones with their filthy contraband, otherwise I feel like there will be no end to it."

“It’s okay, we’ll soon exterminate them all, and they won’t be able to cause any more harm to anyone,” the grey-uniformed man assured me, quickly returning to his place.

Too optimistic a promise, in my opinion, how many minions of the Dark Angel have been destroyed already, and new ones appear from somewhere. They multiply like rabbits.

But I didn’t voice my thoughts, but expressed my agreement:

"It would be nice…"

"Here, Tier Steini." Taking a sheet of paper from a thin folder, Covan pushed it towards me. "Read it and sign."

Having glanced over the short text of the standard official commitment, which in general was no different from the one I had already signed more than two years ago, only the name of the administration was different, I signed it with the ink pen kindly provided to me.

"That's great," Kovan nodded approvingly and hid the document in a desk drawer, then took a few more sheets out of the folder. "Read the job description and the requirement for the safety of official information." He got out from behind the desk, went to a tall cabinet in the corner of the office, and, opening it, began to look for something there.

Shrugging, I started reading. I didn’t like the instructions right away. Okay, it’s clear that the orders of a superior officer are accepted for execution without question, but why separately mention that improper execution of the same immediately leads to an internal investigation? Which is conducted in the form of a military tribunal. So what, if you do something wrong, you’ll be sent to hard labor? Terrible! And the entire instruction is so twisted, as if the only task of its author was to intimidate the new employee of the Third Department to the point of impossibility with all sorts of punishments for the slightest oversight. The second document, where the requirements for preserving information were spelled out, turned out to be no better. Voluntary or involuntary disclosure of information constituting an official secret - from three to five years of hard labor without the right to pardon. The same, but with proven intent - from twenty years of hard labor. What kind of evil mind came up with such a thing? And where did he see such heroes, who pulled out more than ten in hard labor? Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this service after all?..

“Well, well…” I muttered, having finished reading the last page of the instructions.

"I see you've got it," Covan chuckled and, taking the papers from me, said, "That's all, Tier Steini. Now get your token and you're free to go."

“What about the service?” I asked, surprised.

“And your service will begin upon arrival in the capital,” the grey-uniformed man explained. “There, the head of the Seventh Department, Grass-Tarkh Renly, will find a place to apply your skills. In the meantime, rest a little, get yourself in order. Explain to your… um… girlfriend. Just try not to drag it out. I can still allow you to idle for about a decade, considering the circumstances… love and all that… but nothing more. Well, I think there will be no problems with this, because Lady Caitlin comes from a family that knows firsthand what it means to serve the good of the Empire.”

"I see," I muttered and rubbed my temples. My head started to hurt as soon as I tried to estimate the scale of the trouble I had gotten myself into. It was easy for Covan to say that - you'll explain yourself to Caitlin. But in reality, the upcoming trial would most likely be the most serious stumbling block on my path. Simply because I have no way to influence the outcome of the case. I can hide from the dark ones, kill the criminals, negotiate with the redimer, but none of this will work with the insulted girl. And no one can help me here.

"Let's go," Covan got out from behind the table. I followed him thoughtlessly. To another office, on the underground floor of the administration.

The rather gloomy atmosphere that reigned there shook me. For some reason, I remembered my sins. I really didn't want the truth to come out. Otherwise, I would become Angel's neighbor. How is she here, poor thing?

"As-Tarkh?" An elderly man stood up from the table and looked at us questioningly.

"Ron, take care of this guy," Covan started giving out orders right away. "I'll throw the order at you a bit later, and in the meantime, make his badge and everything else that's required of you." And, patting me on the shoulder, Covan quickly ran away.

"You are from the guards, aren't you?" Ron squinted, looked at me attentively, and suggested, waving towards the chairs at the table: "Sit down, please, there is no truth in legs."

“From the guard,” I confirmed and, just in case, thanked him for the hospitality, sitting down on a chair: “Thank you.”

"That's good," Ron nodded approvingly, taking tin boxes out of a large cupboard. "They'll recruit all sorts of people all the time... Who have no idea about subordination."

"I heard that the Third Department is in trouble with this," I said cautiously. "It's hard to figure it out when the rank of the person standing in front of you is determined first and foremost by his position, and only then by his title."

"Everything will be simple for you," the grey-uniformed man smiled. "Until you are assigned to work, there is no one lower in rank than you in our Department. Excluding the civilians, of course.

"I honestly didn't expect to be appointed head of the Office," I said. Ron laughed softly, and I asked, "What level do you occupy in the hierarchy here?"

"Four," Ron replied, opening the clasps on the sides of the tin and taking out a silver badge blank. "Despite being an Un-Tarkh."

"Oh," I shook my head in surprise. Un-tarkh should be in charge of the office. But he stands up when Covan, whose rank is one step lower, enters. But then, it turns out, Covan is at the very top. And he is one of those three who are higher than Ron.

"Okay, roll up your sleeve," Ron ordered, interrupting our conversation.

I obeyed. It was a familiar thing. Badges are adjusted to suit employees everywhere.

Ron didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He pressed the badge to my left forearm, just below the shield and swords, and I flinched slightly. The cold metal seemed to be beating with tiny lightning bolts. The magical content of the blank was too intense.

Luckily, attaching the badge took only a moment. A few moments later, I was already scratching the magical tattoo that had appeared on my skin - a crowned black eagle clutching an axe in its claws. The silver badge itself, which Ron immediately handed over to me, had exactly the same emblem and no numbers. Everything is as it should be. The numbered badge will be issued when the temporary transfer turns into a permanent one. For now, I'll have to carry two on a chain at once, but the weight is not too big. I'll somehow cope.

"Now that's different," Ron said good-naturedly, grinning. He admired his work and took a silver chain with a small pale pink crystal from another drawer.

This is also a familiar thing. I told the Un-Tarkh about it. Taking the burden of explaining how to use a caller, a call crystal, off his shoulders. The guards only gave out such useful gadgets on special occasions. Very expensive. But the Third Department, apparently, couldn't do without them.

Ron emphasised that I mustn't part with the caller, day or night. You never know when you might need it. I snorted. What had I signed up for, that I would have no peace day or night? But I didn't have time to think about it. A thought that had been lurking in the back of my mind finally dawned on me. Everything I'm doing right now is stupid. It's just a futile attempt to cling to my old life. Attempts to forget and delay the inevitable meeting with Caitlin. Stupid. And wrong. There's no point in making plans for the future when I don't have one.

“So, is that all?” I asked Ron, deciding not to waste any more time on unimportant matters.

"In general, yes," he answered. "As I understand it, you will be put on allowance later, and with official duties - that's up to Covan. I've done my job."

With a sigh of relief, I climbed out of the Third Department dungeon and headed to Timir. To inform him of my transfer and to resolve one tiny issue that kept me here.

The centurion was there. And he wasn't even surprised when I told him the news. He said he expected something like that. Everything was spinning around me too much. Tier Got approved of Covan's idea that I should wander around the Empire for a while. And he helped me quickly rewrite the will. The thought of problems Roald would have getting the estate, which the usurers wanted to get their hands on, was haunting me. Covan wouldn't stand up for him.

So I wrote my will more cunningly. Roald would inherit the house and all its furnishings, which was what I actually had. And all the rest of my property would become the property of another person after my death. After some thought, I wrote Lady Caitlin in this column. She would most likely be the cause of my inglorious death, so let her rack her brains over what to do with the estate that the priests wanted to lay their paws on.

I left the centurion's office with a calm soul and almost collided with Roald outside the door.

“Well, Kar, are you done?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, showing him the new badge.

"That's not bad," Roald was silent for a moment, looking at the blackened eagle. "Maybe it will help you get out of everything."

"And it’s not forever," I noted. "It’s a temporary transfer until re-certification."

“That’s absolutely wonderful,” the foreman rejoiced for me, and we headed for the exit.

"You can safely send the boys home," I said to Roald as we walked. It was unlikely that Crab would find such fools among his people who would agree to get into trouble connected with the Third Department.

"This news will still reach the Night Guild," Roald expressed a sensible thought, but then waved his hand: "However, you are right, Kar. They will know about your transfer before the sun sets. But you will not be rid of me and Veld before the evening," he warned.

"Where is he, by the way?" I asked.

"I sent him for the bolt throwers," Roald replied. "He'll be here in a minute."

"All right, let's go to the cab yard then." I pushed open the door leading to the street.

"Let's go," agreed Roald, following me out of the council office. And then he exclaimed in surprise when he saw one of the Silver Bell security bouncers on the opposite side of the avenue: "Oh! They're already watching you..."

"Strange," I remarked, looking puzzled at the thug languishing on the opposite side of the avenue. "What's the point of putting such a conspicuous person on our tail?"

But I didn't have time to suggest to Roald to approach the lackey of Crab and ask him about the reasons for such idiotic surveillance. Kolun, sweating in the heat, hesitated a little and, glancing sideways with disgust at the emblem of the council, approached us.

"What, Kolun, have you decided to turn yourself in?" Roald asked mockingly. He placed his palm on the hilt of his falchion and moved to the right of me so that we wouldn't get in each other's way if something happened.

“That’s the last thing we need,” Kolun muttered in response and turned to me: “Respected people here asked me to pass something on to you.”

“So what?” I asked sarcastically. “A sincere apology and compensation for the trouble caused?”

"No, just this," Kolun shook his head and held out his hand. On his palm lay a thin silver plate with cutouts in the shape of elemental runes. The metal glittered in the sun, and a drop of blood had frozen on a piece of chain.

“Bastards…” I couldn’t help but say, instantly recognizing Kaylee’s jewelry.

"You're screwed, Kolun," Veld said as he left the office, quickly assessing the situation. "Kidnapping, extortion are possible. Eight years of hard labor, for sure. If you live to see it, of course, and don't get slapped trying to resist during detention." He meaningfully shook the bolt throwers he was holding.

"What does this have to do with me?" The thug got excited. "They asked me to pass on a trifle - I passed it on."

"And of course you have no idea what this message means,” Roald noted sarcastically.

"No. I do have an idea," Kolun admitted reluctantly. "But I have nothing to do with it! I'm just working off a debt."

"Is that all?" Having overcome my feelings, I nodded at the silver plate that had migrated to my palm.

"They also verbally asked me to pass on something," Kolun answered. "Only to you alone."

"Then why did you make such a fool of yourself with the earring?" Veld asked him. "You were probably told to do it quietly and unnoticed, and not to show yourself in front of everyone."

"So they told me about the verbal message, but they didn’t tell me that the jewelry can’t be given away in public,” Kolun pretended to be a complete idiot.

“Well, well,” Roald narrowed his eyes and took one of the bolt throwers from Veld.

“I wanted the best!” Kolun became worried, watching the foreman load the weapon.

"Why all of a sudden?" Roald asked lazily. "Decided to become a respectable citizen?"

"Yeah!" Kolun grinned wryly and began to explain hastily: "I'm leaving. To my brother, in Deir. He recently got married there, to a merchant's wife. And he wrote to me to come. He wants me to take up guarding the trade convoys. So it's not in my interests to get involved in the showdown now. And Crab has a rotten plan in mind."

"What did he tell you to tell me verbally?" I interrupted Kolun.

"Crab said that if you want to see your girlfriend alive and well, you must come to his house after sunset. Alone. And if you bring someone else or make a fuss, he will send you the girl's head as a gift."

“That's it?” I asked when Kolun fell silent.

"Yep. I told you word for word," he confirmed.

"Then get out of here," Veld ordered him. "While you're still in one piece."

Clutching the silver plate, I slapped my fist against my forehead. I'm such a fool. I didn't even think that they could get even with me through Kaylee. They saw us together at the club all the time, so they decided that she was my girlfriend.

"What do you think of doing, Kar?" Roald asked cautiously.

“What’s there to think about? I have to go to Crab,” I responded with annoyance.

"Not the best idea," Roald noted. "You need to think it all over. Otherwise, you'll perish yourself and won't be able to save the girl."

"Or maybe we should surround their lair and smoke them out?" Veld suggested. "They'll see that they have nowhere to go, and they'll quickly give up."

“This is not the kind of case where that could work,” I shook my head thoughtfully. “Crab is already in deep trouble with that recent attack on me. If anything happens to me, he’ll be the first to be declared the culprit. And yet he didn’t back down. He kept going. That means he’s in such a bad situation that he has nowhere to go. And remember that incident with Norn the Hurrying One. Did the raid help him much? They broke into Crab’s house, and there was no one there except the servants. Neither the owner nor the kidnapped son of the merchant. And Crab then had the audacity to say that he simply wanted to offer Norn his help in finding the boy who had run away from home. That there was no talk of ransom… No, the raid is not the case. I don’t want Kaylee, like Norn’s son, to become an accidental victim of stray dogs."

“Or maybe you should ask your new boss for help?” Roald asked.

"What's the point?" I winced. "You know their methods. They'll cause a pogrom, and Kaylee... Who cares about her fate? The main thing is to achieve the goal, to punish the presumptuous criminal. With the same success, the three of us can break into Crab's house and cause a massacre. Even the chances of getting Kaylee out alive will be the same. That is, none at all."

"You can't rely on the Crab's mercy," Roald reasoned. "We have to think of something to keep you and Kaylee alive."

"Naturally," I nodded. "But I'm not worried about myself. It's unlikely that Crab started such a wild thing just to kill me. Too complicated and troublesome. Most likely, he also wants to return the money lost to the gambling house. So they're unlikely to kill me immediately upon my arrival."

"That's true," Roald agreed. "Such a shit could only be started for money."

"They’ll get the money and still kill you,” Veld noted.

"Of course," I admitted the truth of this statement. And I noted: "But I'm not going to take the money with me. So whether he likes it or not, Crab will have to let me go after the conversation. For a ransom."

“Risky,” Roald coughed.

“Not really,” I shrugged indifferently. The chances that Crab would kill me weren’t that great. More precisely, they were even very small compared to the 100% probability that any day now, I would end my life on the chopping block for encroaching on Lady Caitlin’s honor. But then the whole situation would be clear. It would be clear what could be done to free Kaylee. And if I died, that wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. Better that than on the shameful chopping block.

"Well, if you think it’s worth it…" The foreman did not dispute my decision any further.

"Yes, I think so," I confirmed. "Kaylee must be saved at all costs."

“What does some new management have to do with this?” Veld asked, puzzled.

I waved it off. No time for that. A little later, Roald began to enlighten the redhead about my new place of service. And I watched the quickly walking Kolun and clenched my teeth. Never mind, we'll deal with these crab-toads.

"Are you with me?" I asked Roald and Veld. They nodded. "Then we need a cab."

* * *

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