Ilya Pavlov another life 2. “Another life” Ilya Pavlov. About the book “Another Life” Ilya Pavlov

Current page: 2 (book has 30 pages total) [available reading passage: 17 pages]

6 is short 315 years. Noon. Sergeant

She reminded me of my sister. Only she was not red, but fair-haired. I took after my father, healthy and stupid, and my sister, like my mother, was thin, flexible, cheerful and chatty. They sang songs together - you will listen to them. For a long time she tried to dissuade me from serving: they say, I’ll be useful here too. What was there to do in our town? Don't know. But I regret that I left. They survived the plague. They died immediately after. It's unlikely that I could protect them. But suddenly?..

And so, twenty years of service, including the Kontuluk Guards. However, it didn’t take root there. Boring. I already had sergeant's stripes then. Experience. And scars. Where should I march and salute... So I met the pestilence far from the capital. I survived it, and even worse: what came immediately after it. Anarchy, robbery and other joys of wild life.

The foam has gone. Those who were too zealous and arrogant disappeared. People realized that it was still better to work and trade than to rob and fight. OK.

I need to look after the girl: God forbid, something happens... I won’t forgive myself again.

6 is short 315 years. Evening. Visek. Second

From the town, Sergeant and Oar brought bad news about Boar and five people. This was even worse news.

The boar showed up somewhere near the town itself. Gutted two convoys. Shot a bunch of people. But the most disgusting thing was that I had a meeting with the townspeople. And what they agreed on there, only heaven knew. Badly. How not to get caught.

“Don’t worry, we’re already in trouble,” this is the Foreman. “We’ll send people, the money needs to be worked off.” He will not attack armed people without a convoy. Let's designate the movement and that's it.

- And that’s it... They’ll shoot from the bushes! There are so few people. “My nerves have crossed all boundaries. I don't like such situations. When nothing depends on you.

- Sit down, sit down, I beg you. – The foreman began pouring it into mugs. - And you, Sergeant, sit down. Looming here in front of me, taking advantage of the fact that I can no longer straighten up and slap you on the top of my head. I’ll die soon, then you’ll bury it and be nervous. In the meantime, we sit, drink, sing songs.

The Sergeant and I plopped down on the bench. He will die soon... Of course. It will squeak all of us. And thank heavens. Without him, the squad is not a squad. Sergeant Major's Detachment.

I remember how the Sergeant and I approached him. My partner was killed. And Sergeant and Oar were left without money and work. The client died in their arms; they didn’t have time to deliver him. So everyone collided in that cheerful tavern. In Taganiya. In "The Tattered Forester". Why "forester"? Why "drano"? The owner himself did not remember. But I remembered that we owe him money. He began to push him out the door. I would have left, but the Sergeant and Oar finally wanted to get into a row there.

This is where the Sergeant Major showed up. He whispered something to the owner, who immediately turned sour, and gave us a mug each and fed us when he realized that we were hungry, like Kontuluk tigers.

“I need people,” he says, sipping his drink. I still don’t understand how he slurps it. True, I already drink myself. I'm used to it.

– Reliable people, proven. I have about ten people, but most of them are used to working at night.

The sergeant and Oar tensed. It was not a good idea for warriors to become robbers. Yes, and at first I was depressed at this prospect.

“No, dear fellows, you misunderstood me,” the Sergeant-Major immediately cut through. Poured into mugs. - We're making a normal squad. No atrocities or robbery. Only clean work. Hiring, security, etc. We are recruiting about twenty people so that we can feed ourselves. And fight back, if necessary. You people, I see, are experienced in battles. My guys are seasoned, but increasingly self-taught. I've seen a lot myself. Sergeant major is not a stolen rank. Served.

- Where? – The Sergeant and I asked this at the same time. Everything depended on his answer. If you like it, we'll stay. No means no.

- Oh, dear ones, the first time I received a “sergeant major” was from the old Duke. In the Marine Regiment. And then three more times. A habit, or something. One boss will remove you for his long tongue, the other will introduce you. The last time exactly a year before the pestilence. Before resignation. For the Bend.

The Sergeant and I looked at each other. Well, we didn’t know each other until this day. And from this look, everyone understood about each other, and about the Foreman. It happens. When loners merge into a flock, when you understand that a piece from a big crust is better than just your own, but small crust. And it happens the other way around. But not at this time.

For a long tongue. Of course. Then we realized how long his “tongue” was.

Yes, I myself am not without sin. It’s good that everything is already overgrown with its former self. Got used to it. They began to live. I don't know how to tell stories. Ask the Sergeant. How and what.

- He brought five. – The sergeant stretched out his legs. – A blacksmith from a neighboring town; the forge burned down and went bankrupt. It’s unclear what type of warrior he is, but he’s strong and can fix anything if necessary. His Oar will "build".

- A blacksmith is good. More?

- Two guys. Very young. They think being a mercenary is cool.

– I hope you didn’t disappoint them?

- No, they will run away on their own. One is after Blue, and Inferno is watching the second.

“They’ll teach them,” I already interrupted, “how to play bagpipes and run after women.”

- Nothing: I said that the shoals of the young are now their shoals. – The sergeant grinned. What a cunning beast! In his mind, he should be the Chief’s assistant, not me. Plays the role of a martinet. Swords and horses – like, mine. And where to rule is yours.

- So, what about two more? – The foreman, as always, pretends that everything is going according to plan. They gave us money - that’s what we expected, but they didn’t give us money - that’s our trick. Yes of course…

- Woman.

The commander and I raised our eyebrows in surprise.

Seeing our amazement, the Sergeant quickly continued:

- Shooter. From hunters. Oar said it was real.

- Well, who will look after her?

- Well, I can... - The sergeant carefully pretended that he was not happy about it, but if necessary...

The foreman grunted into his mug.

- And the fifth? – I turned the conversation to another topic.

- This one is completely incomprehensible. Noble in appearance. You see, he was taught fencing somewhere... But he was as thin as a pole. He knows the map, he knows how to read and write. He doesn’t know how to harness a horse to a cart. In short, creepy. If you want, talk to him, but we can’t trust him. I don’t know who will look after him. But maybe it will be useful.

- Call him here. Let's talk.

6 is short 315 years. Evening. Visek. Sergeant Major

I remember on the sea voyage... Cold, hunger... horror, in a word. The Duke lined everyone up and said in a cheerful voice:

- So, eagles!

And the “eagles” are already holding on to each other so as not to fall.

– Today we eat from the belly. And tomorrow. We rest for two days. Who are we eating? Horses, anyone else. Yes, we're leaving all our belongings here. We sleep, take only everything we need for ten days. We'll get there lightly in ten days. We'll get there, we'll get there. And there we will be paid dearly for every horse we eat today.

And what do you think? They took a bag each on their shoulders. Some are weapons, some are leftover food. Equally divided - and forward. Our top ten helped each other. If one of them weakened in the evening, then his load was divided so that he could hobble to the night.

Here you go. We'll get together in the morning. Everyone is ready to go out. Then I see something sticking out from under the spruce branches on which they slept. He kicked it, and there was a dried horse’s leg. Yesterday one of ours was relieved, so he decided that now we will carry his belongings for the rest of the time. The men almost tore him to pieces. At dinner, the cook divides a piece for everyone, but here there is so much meat to forget: all our food is for three days in advance!

So, if you want to be respected, remember what you carry and what you are responsible for. Life is like that.

What? Have you arrived or not? Well, I’m sitting in front of you... For the horses? Yes. The Duke forbade them to keep horses for five years. They plowed themselves. Cows were harnessed to carts. But the craving for rebellion disappeared for a long time. Don't spoil. While the old Duke was alive, everyone remembered this well. “For the Duke of Corron has only one right: to keep the country intact, and the people in order and well-fed. And he is not given anything else for all eternity”...

9 is short 315 years. Day. Northern tract. Sergeant

We moved forward. The foreman ordered not to get into trouble. Calmly reach your first overnight stop. Rattling weapons. Pretend to be very formidable warriors. And everything would be fine... but soon we caught up with the caravan, and the merchants, if they weren’t fools, spurred on their horses to ride until dark, keeping up with us. It turned out worse than ever.

I was about to order a halt, when suddenly, around the bend, two women dressed in elegant dresses came out to meet me. And then we would be faced with complete darkness and gnashing of teeth. Saved the goner newbie. After talking with the Foreman and the Second, he not only became a member of the detachment, but the commander also said that he would look after him himself. Wow. From Dohodyag they renamed him to Starshinsky to sing along, then to simply Starshinsky. And on the third day it was left - Elder. His brothers called him that, they didn’t like long words. That's what I called him - Elder. For fun. It remains that way. In the suit, as it turned out.

So the Elder yelled. Moreover, in such a commanding voice, as if all his life he had commanded no less than a line detachment:

- Ambush! Shields up! Shut up! Get into formation!

I didn't even have time to swear. Everything worked out of habit. And we did it! Well, we walked closely and managed to get up as a group. Bolts screamed from the bushes. Ten people would have been lost right away. And so it only hit Blue in the shoulder, the rest hit the shields. People began to jump out onto the road. The brothers managed to take two of them on spears and get into formation. And they don’t interfere, they wait. And here he is. Boar, let him be empty. In his cuirass. But how good! I would give anything for one like this.

It goes without hiding. And the robbers cheered him up. They pushed forward. We stand, we hold. The young ones are in the back, with crossbows. The fox couldn't stand it and shot. And I got it. Boar in the chest. It just rang. At least this dragon has something. And people come to him from the bushes. It seems that he did not come for the convoy. Apparently, the townspeople paid him for us.

“Everyone on your knees, then I’ll have mercy!”

Now... you can't wait.

- Let's keep the line! - I command, but I myself think that we won’t survive. We must somehow retreat to the carts, otherwise they will crush us.

The brothers on the sides push the particularly zealous ones into the ditch so that they don’t get passed over. Here the Boar came closer. And he has a sword to match. And he owns it well. I lunged, and Peklo immediately sank down next to me.

- Keep in line! - yelling. And I see that if we don’t close the hole, they will split it in two - that’s all. Once! - The elder with a shield stuck in instead of Cinder. Well done. Yes, not with a sword, but with a crossbow. Fool.

- Where? Give it up.

And the Boar laughed and raised his sword. Then our Peklo was pulled by the legs from behind to pull him out of the dump. The eldest fell. Head first, Boar at his feet. End. Fenced. He also turned over on his back, under the Boar’s feet. And he raised the crossbow, but how could they fight off the sword... And even from something like that.

Then, a few years later, I asked him: did he shoot himself or did he accidentally pull the trigger? He says he did it himself. But in a bad way, he wanted to hit Kabanu’s sword and knock it out of his hands. Wonderful.

Didn't hit the sword. And exactly between the cuirass and the helmet. There was a gap as thick as a finger when the Boar swung his sword upward. The bolt went under the chin and reached the helmet, only from the inside, with the tip reaching out. Even a feather, a healthy, black one, was knocked off the helmet from the inside.

- Step forward! - I command.

And there they are already trying to poke the Elder with swords from all sides. The boar is still standing. They stepped. They recoiled. And the Boar had already fallen behind us. One of the attackers tried to command, but the Fox had already reloaded the crossbow. That's all. There are no more people willing to command. Then the guards of the merchants arrived from behind. Dispersed. They tied up these women in dresses, and about five other people. Two carts with goods. Peplo turned out to be alive. I just shook my head for another month. Stunned him well. I had to throw away my shield and helmet. And the Elder, as soon as he saw his work, left the entire breakfast in the ditch. Ours didn't laugh. Blue wanted to grin, but the Brothers pressed him on the neck while they bandaged him.

The cuirass was pulled off the Boar, and the head was cut off for their baron. The elder picked up a black feather and attached it to his helmet.

- We need to bury them. It’s not human to leave like that... - this is the Elder; Look, he almost turned inside out, but he just recovered and he’s already shaking his license.

- Take the prisoners over there, let them dig. I'm kind today. Paddle, take the Brothers, rummage around the area. The job is done, it's time to go home. I've got a keg of rum.

9 is short 315 years. Evening. Visek. Second

- There are too few of you. – The Baron finally stopped sniffing the mug and drank in one gulp. He closed his eyes. Hardly from pleasure. – If you join the townspeople, we will still be stronger. Come to my service. The squabbles will stop immediately. Straightaway. You still have no choice. Only to me.

- There is another way. - The foreman also emptied his mug.

- There are too few of you. You will not be able to start your game here. I saw your people. You are professionals, but you are tired. “The Baron’s face relaxed. Both of his advisors nodded their heads silently over his shoulder.

– We are used to fatigue. “The sergeant major glanced briefly at me and the Sergeant.

I began to carefully pour from the jug into the mugs again. The Baron squinted:

- Do you understand what I am talking about. Mental fatigue is much worse. – The Baron looked at the swill in horror. – The time of free mercenaries is passing. And even more so - decent free mercenaries. All the detachments went to serve some masters. There are only gangs left that are hiding in the forests. Yes, the Green Brothers. Yes you. So you have no other choice.

An explosion of laughter behind the wall, in the common room, shook the room. The lamps flickered. The roar from two dozen throats did not cease. Everyone laughed loudly. The Baron straightened up sharply, his gaze running over us in alarm.

The sergeant major looked at the Sergeant and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He nodded, unstuck himself from the wall and left. Outside the door they were already hoarse with laughter, repeating something and again exploding into guffaws.

The advisers whispered something to the baron, trying not to go beyond the bounds of decency. He nodded without turning his head, holding the mug with both hands.

The door creaked, the Sergeant squeezed sideways into the opening, from which clouds of tobacco smoke, the smell of food and another portion of laughter splashed out. Smiling into his mustache, the Sergeant shook his head, looking like it was all nonsense.

The foreman raised his mug:

- For you, Baron. I swear, if there was no choice, we would stand under your banner. But we are used to solving our problems ourselves. We have solved the problem with Boar. – The Baron froze, the advisers opened their mouths. - Yes, yes, the Boar won’t bother you anymore. We did what you asked.

- How? Is the boar dead? Proof? – The left adviser, tall, thin, with long spider-like arms, unable to bear it, moved out from behind the baron.

“Wow, they don’t take my word for it anymore...” The foreman grinned, the Advisors waved their hands in justification. - Sergeant, present it.

I moved to the side. The sergeant pulled the cover off the chair behind mine. The advisors gasped.

The Baron stood up, but quickly controlled himself.

- Yes, professionals. Kill the Boar... It changes a lot. Who could do this? Pinned down by a rock? - The Baron laughed. The advisers behind him were now whispering to each other.

The sergeant major waved his hand in my direction. Well, yes, how to invent something is for me. It cannot be said that the legendary Boar, the menace of the entire Eastern Province, simply caught a generally random crossbow bolt. The main thing is our bolt. Nothing else matters.

“Well,” I cleared my throat, “good teamwork.” Distraction, distribution of roles, great final stage. The boar was killed by us in a fair fight. Your conscience is clear. His henchmen are captured. “The sergeant major waved his mug at me in time. The sergeant stood with a straight face so as not to laugh.

The Baron turned his gaze to the Foreman:

– Please accept my congratulations. So?

– You, Baron, forgot about the third way. We will simply leave the province. We don't want to get involved in your friction. Sooner or later, you, Baron, will make peace with the townspeople. A quarrel is not beneficial for either them or you. This contradiction cannot be resolved by force either. You will make peace, and strangers will be the extreme ones, that is, us. No. Better without a job than with one. We are leaving.

– Can I be sure of this? – The Baron was already drinking from the mug with pleasure. - Although, what am I saying... Foreman, your word, the word of the detachment commander, is quite enough. And the fact that you will not go over to my rivals is already good news. – The Baron placed the mug on the table with a knock. He stood up, swayed (the advisers supported him by the elbows on both sides) and, nodding to us, went to the door.

– Baron, when will we receive what we have earned through our labors and worries? - The sergeant major would not be a sergeant major if he had not remembered the money.

The Baron, without looking back, waved his hand to his men. One of the advisers began to open the door for him, whispering something. The Baron waved his hand again in irritation, then the second, long one returned and carefully placed a quietly clinking bag in front of the Foreman. He looked back at Baron, but he was already leaving, then he turned his gaze to us, and laid out another similar bag.

– There was a woman with the Boar...

The foreman looked at me.

- There were two women there. “I hesitated, but the Foreman put his hand on the bag of money and nodded quietly. – If you are ready to decide their future fate, then please take them along with the Boar’s people. We don't need them.

The advisor nodded gratefully:

“If you need horses, please contact me,” and he left. The sergeant follows him.

When the door closed behind them, the Foreman poured the rest of the infusion into his mouth, bit on the root and turned to me.

- We are leaving? “I was as surprised as the Baron.”

– Do you have any other suggestions? “The sergeant major chewed the roots intensely. - Yes, they salt them wonderfully here. The Baron described everything correctly. We are the third force in this town. The other two will unite and will not rest until they eat the third. Do you want to be her? - He turned to the returning Sergeant: - What is there?

“The Baron left, but looked very carefully at our fortifications.

- Stump with him. Why were they laughing?

“Yes, your Senior...” The sergeant grinned, sat down at the table and extended his mug to me, or rather to the jug.

I splashed it for him.

“You’re turning grey, Sergeant.”

“Yes, it seems like it’s time...” He drank, grunted and turned to the Foreman again: “Our idiots ask your Elder: why don’t you drink rum, and he replies: “It doesn’t taste good.”

I laughed.

How is he today? – The foreman also grinned, chewing the last root.

- He’s shaking, the exhaustion is hitting him. The first fight - and immediately this...

- Yes, he gave us a head start. If he had not shot Boar, the baron would now be negotiating with the townspeople, and not with us.

There was another roar of laughter behind the wall.

- It’s okay, it’ll go away. Let him walk with me tomorrow. Let's visit the townspeople, collect debts, buy carts.

– We need to decide where we will sell our excess belongings. Here, with this mess, no one will give a good price,” I interjected.

- Don’t be afraid, we won’t go to your mountains. Let's go north. Trade is picking up again. And caravans are robbed all along the way. We won't be left without work. Everyone will need security.

- That’s a lot of stomping! “I just now realized that the Foreman decided everything a long time ago, and refusal to get involved in the dispute between the baron and the townspeople is only an excuse to leave this province.

“And we are in no hurry...” The foreman spat out a hard root. “Let’s go and look at Boar’s chainmail.”

- Nice chain mail, I would like one like that. – The sergeant finished his portion.

- Ask mine. He doesn't seem to be greedy...

9 is short 315 years. Evening. Visek. Senior

The sergeant led us to the detachment. All newcomers were distributed among veterans. Lisya said that he himself would look after her so that no one would bother her with nonsense. And he just waved his hand at me. Wait, please.

After some time, he called to the commanders. The sergeant major, a very old man, with piercing eyes under shaggy gray eyebrows, wearing a faded Marine Regiment jacket, very warm and with iron plates sewn in instead of armor. His deputy, nicknamed the Second, looked very nervous, thin and wiry, in full beautiful armor, looked at me with very hostility. The sergeant major asked me for a long time about Corronna, revealing that I was a student there. The rest of the years did not interest him. He lived - and it was great. He took out some old shabby map, spread it on the table and began to torture him according to the symbols. The map was handwritten, land, but with sea signs. At first I thought that they were just testing me, but judging by the way he and the Second began to argue and wave their hands, I realized that this was a long-standing dispute and I was simply proving someone was right. The foreman fell into a stupor when I said that these were not height lines, but designations of greenery - vegetation on the climbs. Where is the forest, where is the bush, where is there only moss at the top. The second one didn’t engage with the topic at all, shook his head and chuckled incredulously. I said that such cards also exist. Apparently, this map was copied exactly from this one, without understanding the symbols, and then they put their own signs on top. The second one, not believing it, said that every year it grows in a new way. I had to explain that in the mountains, every vegetation no higher than its height survives, and by the border you can clearly understand where you are.

The sergeant-major poured it into the mugs with a satisfied look. It turned out to be something like Jaeger tea. The old Duke loved this one. From better ingredients, of course. Tea, butter, salt, sugar, a little rum. I drank it with pleasure. The second one watched with his mouth open. The foreman laughed.

In the end they accepted. The foreman took a closer look. The second one just waved his hand. They told me to look around and not get into trouble.

On the third day, almost the entire detachment went out on patrol along the road. It turns out that they caught the same Boar who gutted the convoy where Lisa and I were walking...

After the fight they began to remove the cuirass from the Boar. When they pulled off the helmet, it turned out that my crossbow bolt had smashed his whole head to pieces... Only at the ditch did I catch my breath - I was vomiting so much. The veterans patted me on the shoulder approvingly, saying that the first time is always like this. It will pass.

In the evening, the tavern was quiet. It was not shaking like a child. The soldiers gave me a jug: for those arrows that, thanks to my scream, flew into the shields, and not along them. It didn't go down my throat. So as not to offend me with a refusal, I told a couple of tales. They neighed like horses. A Sergeant even came out of the command room to see what was wrong with us. Soon the Foreman and the Second crawled out. Everyone tried on the Boar Cuirass. She only sat well on the Sergeant; his height and muscles matched her. I gave it to him. For that. He tried to give me money, but I refused.

The second one was looking closely at the huge black feather that I had attached to my helmet, but I pretended that I didn’t get the hint. I'll wear it myself. Just for fun.

The wall of alienation between the old people and us, the youth, has dissolved. Two days later we set out on the road as a single detachment. The sergeant in the black cuirass was good.

There was noise ahead, but quieter; Apparently, we agreed. The guy pulled out a knife to free my legs, but then Shpyn, one of the owner’s guards, appeared right above us. Seeing us on the ground, he cursed and pulled his sword from its sheath. The guy, without hesitation, stuck the knife into his leg, pinning his foot to the ground. Shpyn yelled. My unlucky liberator looked out from behind the cart, looked back and, apparently having made a decision, rose to his full height, threw me on his shoulder and rushed into the forest. They screamed from behind. Luckily his head was behind his back... but the bruises on his butt and ribs lasted for a week. I myself have never run through the forest as fast as he did. The guy first struggled through the roadside bushes, and then, when they obscured us, he turned sharply and ran along the road. He rushed like a horse, suddenly ran across the road around the bend and again rushed into the thicket. The branches were struck properly. It’s good at least here it’s not a northern forest, but leaf grass, overgrown along the road and more or less passable in the depths of the forest.

They turned again; We were now on the other side of the ambush site. Sly, tramp... Jinxed. He stumbled, almost dropped it, and almost fell himself. He stopped, took me to the ground, and lay down next to me. He puffed, trying to catch his breath. He pulled out his sword and began to cut the ropes on me. Wow, I didn’t throw away my backpack, but my things are now gone. Well, at least all the money was on the belt. The only thing I felt sorry for was my father’s crossbow. It was broken, I dragged it with me, I thought I’d find a decent blacksmith and fix it. It's not meant to be.

“Let’s run, they’ll follow the tracks.” – I remembered my hunting upbringing. “You knocked over so many branches there... with my ass.”

- Well, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Let's run.

- Stop. Where are you going?

- Why through the forest? We run ahead of them onto the road - and into the town. They won’t look ahead, but there must be some kind of power in the town.

That's how smart he is. I would now wander through the forest for half a day until I figured out where to go. And here is the most correct decision. We heard voices behind us... We ran through the forest to the next turn, jumped out onto the road and rushed forward. We run, we breathe, we look at each other; by the stream he caught my hand.

- Stop. I'll wash myself. You run well. Where did you get the hang of it?

- My father was a huntsman. I've been running through the forest all my life.

“All your life...” he mimicked, “how old are you, Baroness Lita?” You know, there was such a baroness, a passionate hunter. I traveled through the forests all the time, looking for strange animals. Called Lita.

- Yes I know. Huntress. Thank you. My name is Lisa. And you?

– Now I don’t even know. Whatever you call it.

– I’ll call you Goner. When was the last time you ate?

- Last night. The mushroom was fried. Goner, so Goner, will do.

- Thank you, Goner, dinner is on me.

We reached the town only the next day. We hid from those we met; our caravan never caught up with us. At the tavern they looked at our shabby clothes, but gave us food. We sit and sip onion soup.

– I’m looking for some people. I just don’t know where they are. “He looked at his bowl again and squinted. I put it down and started drinking tea. – I’ll look for some work here. Then I'll move on. And you?

- Don't know. Tired of wandering. I would like to pester someone... but who will take it - without any nonsense?

“Yes, few people will take it without nonsense,” he grinned again. I savored the empty bread like a holiday gingerbread. - What can you do?

- Fire. From a crossbow. Follow the tracks. In the forest. In the steppe it’s worse. And you?

- Yes, almost nothing. As it turned out.

- Happens. Okay, I'll go wander around the town, if I find anything, I'll call you.

- Thank you.

Oddly enough, he found it, not me. When she came exhausted back to the tavern, he was sitting at the table with two hefty mercenaries, asking them about something. The mercenaries responded reluctantly. Finally, a tall guy with a huge sword and an old coat of mail that looked like it was about to fall apart, waved his hand at him and asked something rudely. The goner stood up, then blurted out something that made those sitting at the table laugh. The second mercenary tapped him on the shoulder. I came very close and heard what happened next.

“Yes, Sergeant,” the one who slammed continued to laugh, “this one will suit us.” Not with a sword, but with his tongue. It will come in handy. - And he splashed from his bottle into the tea mug that stood near Goner.

“I’m just not very good at shooting, and I haven’t trained with a sword for a very long time.” – The goner sniffed the mug and pretended to drink. I could see from behind that he had only wet his lips. Out of politeness. Heather, tramp.

“I was training...” The sergeant grinned. – Who was your coach?

- Yes, there was one. Former soldier. From the Kontuluk Guards.

The sergeant choked on his rum and exchanged glances with his partner.

- Not bad. Keep in line? Ledge attack?

- Yes, I remember almost nothing. More just fencing. For fun.

- For pleasure... We have one pleasure - to remain intact by the evening. - The sergeant finished his drink. - Okay, we'll see there. Let's go to the Chief.

The goner turned around and saw me.

“Yes, Sergeant,” he continued straight away, “I can recommend another person.” Shoots from a crossbow like Baroness Lita. And an excellent tracker. He is also looking for a job. Take it.

The mercenaries stared at me. The second of them examined my jacket, which had seen more than some people do in their entire lives. He was especially interested in the marksman's patch for the butt of a crossbow on his right shoulder. Everyone sews it in their own way. He turned his gaze to the Sergeant and nodded his head approvingly.

“Well, well,” the Sergeant waved his hand, “Baroness Lita and Baron Guards.” Tremble, enemies. Now we will tear everyone apart.

"Without houses and graves,
Only with a sword on his shoulder..."

The goner jumped again.

- What is this? What kind of song? Where?

The sergeant did not answer, threw a coin on the table, waved for us to follow him, and stomped towards the door.

6 is short 315 years. Noon. Sergeant

The foam has gone. Those who were too zealous and arrogant disappeared. People realized that it was still better to work and trade than to rob and fight. OK.

I need to look after the girl: God forbid, something happens... I won’t forgive myself again.

6 is short 315 years. Evening. Visek. Second