Looking down in embarrassment and avoiding my gaze, Ena's father carefully extended the sword across the table. The sword was wrapped in a clean but simple cloth as if that could hide its true power. I quickly unwrapped the bundle and firmly grasped the hilt. My Chiquita was again in my hands, and the sword responded to my touch with a barely perceptible vibration, as if it was glad to return to me. It was a feeling akin to meeting an old friend — a silent connection that said more than any words.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud, good-natured laugh coming from the corner of the tavern. It turned out that while I was examining my sword the Righteous, Aglon, a cheerful teenager from the forest village, with the talent of a parodist impersonated the captain of the palace guard, Gregor. Soon his parody smoothly flowed into a caricature of Rhinothorn, a thick-skinned rhinoceros with irrepressible stupidity. His performance caused a storm of laughter among the tavern patrons, and they eagerly asked him to impersonate someone else. Even drunk Pete smiled, although it seemed to be automatic, following the general mood. And I… I was the only one who felt uncomfortable. Behind this noisy laughter, I saw hypocrisy and insincerity. It was a false joy, brewed on deception. I lied to my friends, Pete hid the truth from me, and even my squires, trying to seem carefree and good-natured, secretly craved gold. Their smiles were only a mask hiding true intentions.

My thoughts sobered me up faster than all the water poured on my head. Now I watched my companions closely. They enthusiastically told Pete about their recent adventures, but I saw how their words acquired a tint of exaggeration and boasting. Basil proudly called himself the Tin Woodman, because he knew how to destroy trees. Theodore broke rocks with such ease that he nicknamed himself Rockman. Michel, with his ability to control fog, became the Storm Summoner, and Nikos, with his keen eyesight, was nicknamed "Telescope", slightly ironic, but he liked it. Only Alex remained silent as if his magical potential was not yet ready to manifest. Or perhaps he was just shy. I was silent too. On this journey, I wanted to be a simple person for a while, to get away from my status, and from my abilities.

“Please explain,” Michel turned to me, his tongue slurring, barely coping with the alcohol. “We, your friends, are like specialists in a narrow field of magic. In normal language, our magical powers allow us to use only one action. For example, I can summon fog, and that's it. Why are our abilities so limited?” I grinned, looking at him. This topic had come up before, but the drink seemed to have dulled his memory. “There is no great secret in this,” I answered calmly, crossing my arms over my chest. “As I said, your abilities depend only on you. You have elementary skills of magic, and they need to be developed. Imagine magic as a full-flowing river. To become a real magician, you need to dive into this river with your head. And you, at best, stand on the bank and touch the surface with your finger. Most of you direct your powers only at destruction. Try to create something, and when you succeed, you will see what you are capable of. We can go out into the fresh air now and try to do something.” “No, that's not interesting…” Basil muttered, stuttering, clearly dissatisfied with such an answer. “I want everything at once.” I shook my head, looking at him with a slight grin. There was typical impatience in his voice. “I can't help you with this,” I said firmly. “It is not in my power. You should be grateful that you have these abilities at least. This might not have happened.”

Silence fell over the room for a moment, broken only by the low hum of the tavern. I could see that they did not like my words, but the truth is rarely pleasant.

"But the local mages can do much more, can't they?" Nikos suddenly asked, leaning closer, his eyes shining with curiosity. "What determines their power? Where does magic come from?"

I felt the growing tension in his questions, but answered calmly:

"I can't say anything for sure about the local mages. Perhaps they have their methods, their paths to magic. But here in Orkvalia, there is an invisible source of power that I call Oceania. This power is available to anyone with an unlimited, vivid imagination. Any magic here is born through the pronunciation of spells or incantations. Words are a bridge between our world and Oceania. A spoken wish turns into a mental image, and Oceania, recognizing it, fulfills the plan. But the trouble with the local mages is that they keep their knowledge secret, and do not share it even with each other. A mage who knows three spells is stronger than one who knows two, but weaker than one who has mastered four."

"Something doesn't add up in your explanation," Michel grumbled, frowning. "If you don't want to tell the truth, don't bother explaining."

There was disappointment in his words, but I couldn't blame him. Their thirst for knowledge and desire for power ran into limitations they weren't used to accepting. They wanted more - and as quickly as possible, without considering that magic requires not only knowledge, but also patience, experience, and most importantly - imagination.

I shrugged, making it clear that the conversation was over. Who was I even trying to explain anything to? People who didn't want to listen and heard only what was convenient for them. Of all my fellow travelers, only Sensei absorbed knowledge of magic, like dry earth absorbs water. He was an attentive, diligent student, always striving to learn more and understand more deeply. It’s a pity that our paths diverged. I wonder if he’s alive?

My attention switched to Pete. Since our last meeting, he had been acting rather strangely – he got drunk, although before he always limited himself to one mug of wine. Now he hugged the innkeeper and, trustingly, told him in front of the entire hall, what had happened to him and Ena while I was in prison.

It turned out that after my arrest, Pete and his daughter hurried back to Titus’s inn. Having warned the innkeeper that he could get into trouble because of us, Pete began to wait for Gregor’s men to arrive. He advised the teenagers from the forest village who accompanied our caravan to leave the city immediately to avoid possible problems. And then his gaze accidentally fell on my sword – the Righteous One. Pete knew that this sword would be a coveted trophy for the prince of Asir.

"I thought the sword needed to be taken away," he said, raising his voice slightly, as if for dramatic effect. "I knew that if it were found, it would end up in the hands of those who had no business holding it. So I smuggled it out of the inn and left the city with Ena."

The innkeeper, who was being told all this, nodded, but mostly for the sake of decency. However, Pete, carried away by his story, did not notice this.

"I understood perfectly well that the sword had to return to its rightful owner sooner or later, so we did not go far. We hid in the forest. Soon I sensed that you, Arian, had escaped with your friends. And then we went looking for you. And today - we met! What a story!" - he concluded, loudly clapping the innkeeper on the shoulder as if he should share his joy.

The innkeeper listened to the storyteller with interest, sometimes nodding in agreement, although the names "Gregor" and "Righteous" meant nothing to him. He understood one thing: this story would bring him profit someday. If a visitor wanted to talk, let him talk - a tale of the adventures of strange travelers will find a place for itself in the rumors that the innkeeper will retell to the next guests over a glass of beer.

Meanwhile, the village lived its usual life. The peasants were harvesting, feeding their cattle, sewing clothes, and making tools, some for work, some for sale. Guests were coming and going from the inn, occupying empty tables, and ordering food and drinks. Most of them were peasants returning from the recently concluded fair. No one paid any attention to us - a group of slightly drunk boys and a girl dozing on the edge of the table.

I glanced around the room, bathed in the soft light of Orkvalia's lamps, and turned to my squires:

"Aren't you guys bored here? Maybe we should go home?"

My friends looked at me in surprise. Despite the intoxication, the ability to reason had not yet abandoned them. Nikos and Michel exchanged meaningful glances, Basil clenched his teeth and exhaled sharply, and Theodore aimlessly checked the contents of the jug. Even Python, interrupting his endless story, looked at me in surprise.

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"Where home? To the forest village?" he said, trying to understand my intentions.

"We are not bored," Michel muttered, stroking the clay mug, at the bottom of which there were still drops of dark red wine. - "And what about our gold?"

Instead of answering, I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Understand it as you wish."

"How so?" - a friendly chorus was heard. - "Just up and leave? Empty-handed?"

"Well, you are not going to stay here forever, are you?" I glanced at Basil. - "Drink sour wine every day, paw at available girls, and serve your master?"

The blond choked, and a viscous, heavy silence hung over our table, broken only by quiet breathing.

"So, we are going home as soon as we sober up. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. It is dangerous to stay here, you yourself saw how our trip to the city ended. And we'll collect gold in Yellow Roofs. We'll take down a couple of drainpipes, and strip the roof off a barn. Our hands won't be empty."

"We've already been there, and you saw for yourself that only pitiful crumbs were left of the gold," Basil chuckled, trying to soberly assess the reality.

"Well, then I don't know where to collect it,"

I shrugged again and, looking at my friends, thought:

"Why should all the initiative come from me? They're primarily interested in gold, let them rack their brains. The tavern is full of people who have been not only to Orkvalia but beyond its borders as well. Maybe one of them will show me the right way."

"I know a place!" Pete suddenly interrupted the conversation. His words sounded like a bolt from the blue. Pete knew that I had once been interested in gold, just as my squires were now. He knew where there was plenty of it, and although I had forgotten about it, Pete, in his kindness, decided to help us.*"There is a lot of gold there. You cannot even imagine how much."

"Don't keep me waiting!" Nikos impatiently tugged Pete by the sleeve. - "Tell me already!"

"This place is very far away," the old warrior greedily drained half a mug of wine as if thirst had suddenly overtaken him. - "Much further than the city. It is in the White Mountains, outside of Orkvalia. If you climb the highest tower in Forbant on a clear day, you can see the white peaks of these majestic mountains in the distance. But I don't know if you have enough strength to get there." "And are you strong enough?" Alex protested, throwing an irritated look at Pete. "Do you think we're weaklings?"

Looking down, pretending to look at my missing brother's watch, I calmly answered Alex:

"Pete is right. Such a long journey is unacceptable for us for several reasons. First, it's too far. The journey to the White Mountains will take a long time, and we don't know the way. Who will lead us? We'll need to find a guide, and the White Mountains are little explored and may be much more dangerous than we think. What we encountered in Orkvalia is child's play, if you don't count the attack by Flappier's gang. Are you ready to risk your lives for gold?"

"Let's vote," Alex suggested, not even suspecting how he was helping to implement my plan. Everyone agreed, and the result was predictable.

Seven people voted "for the journey", including Aglon and Pete. And only one person voted "no" - me.

I jumped to my feet, waving the watch like a slingshot, and shouted to the entire tavern:

"Are you all crazy?! Do you want to die far from home? Or do you seriously think that I am omnipotent and can protect you all anywhere in the world and from anyone?"* A lingering silence fell over the room, and Basil was the first to break it. His voice was laced with caustic mockery:

"That's the thing," he said, smiling wryly. "It turns out that you are not only our master but also the protector of the wronged. Dragon Slayer! Have I listed all your titles?"

He leaned forward, curling his lips, depicting confusion on my face, and added with bitter mockery:

"Who was it that scared us with a terrible journey back to the forest village? "We won't go to the Yellow Roofs, it's too dangerous!" - the blond man deliberately exaggerated and mocked. - "Oh yes, it wasn't you, right? And what happened then? We visited that village, visited the city, and now we're stuck here, talking about dangers. So far everyone is alive and well. So, my lord, perhaps you would do us your lordly favor and agree to spend a few more days in our company?" - he finished with a bitter smile.

I felt irritation begin to take hold of me. These words, the resentment with which Basil said them, hit my nerves harder than any of us could have imagined.

I must admit, Basil was partly right. I had always been categorically opposed to the idea of traveling together, and this was my weakness. Deep down, I was glad that the play was being played out according to my script. By scaring my friends, I hoped to push them to the idea that they needed to properly prepare: practice with swords and come up with at least a dozen defensive spells. In general, I wanted them to understand the need for preparation.

But now that they were in front of me, stubbornly defending their position, I felt anxiety growing inside. Maybe they did not understand what we would have to face. I did not want them to perceive this as an ordinary adventure, and not as a possible disaster.

Basil continued speaking, receiving silent support from our mutual friends:

"We were certainly not prepared then, let alone now. When we left the forest village, we still didn’t know how to hold a sword correctly, how to cast a spell, or what the result would be. Now we are much better prepared. Still, is there something that scares you?"

"The following points scare me - the long journey, the unknown places, the wild, merciless world, and the lack of a reliable guide. Even if it were possible to go straight from this inn to the White Mountains, I would think twice about it," I answered, trying to remain calm.

"It's not as bad as you think, Aryan," Pete intervened, his voice sounding confident. — "I have been there and know the way roughly. I could be your guide," he added, turning to my friends. "If you can persuade your master to go on the journey."

Pete's words caused a stir among my companions. I suddenly felt like a villain in a play I had staged. My friends, full of determination, like rafts on a turbulent river, did not notice the whirlpool that threatened to drag them to the bottom.

"We are not children, Arian!" Basil cried, his voice full of defiance. "And if any of us is not ready, it is you!"

"Why should we persuade him?" Nikos intervened, nodding in my direction. "If our valiant master is so cowardly, let him sit here and wait for us. We, like loyal dogs, will bring him his share, and we will not whine like little girls. It is clear, though: he does not want gold, because he already has so much that he cannot take it with him."

A flame flared up inside me. Nikos, like no one else, knew how to press all the right buttons to get me mad. And although I foresaw that the conversation would go in this direction, I did not think that in the end, I would feel so unbearably hot from these words. I felt how rage pierced me with such force that icy goosebumps ran down my back.

"That's it! The "chicks" have fledged and are eager to fly on their own. A bitter and expected course of events. I wish this had happened a long time ago. Stop raising squires who have known the joy of their first victories. They are healthy young men. It's time to grow up, to become more independent. If you want to go on your journey, please do it! I will not stand in the way. You have a guide. Let him be your guardian! That's all I wanted to say to my friends. I just need to calm down, pull myself together, and suppress my anger."

I stood up silently, clenching my fists, trying not to show my emotions. I didn't have the strength to continue this endless game.

"Without Arian, I'm not going anywhere," Pete said categorically. The play was starting to play out according to a completely unfamiliar scenario.

"What kind of ultimatum? We are independent adults. Our friend is a little tired and wants to rest. In the meantime, we'll take a short walk. What could happen to us?" Michel joined the conversation. Unlike Nikos and Basil, who were throwing angry glances, he remained calm. - "We can..."