According to the seller, each of his animals had only advantages and no disadvantages.

Yes, of course, I believed him! I have never seen a trader in my life who said that the goods he offered were of low quality.

But we needed the lammules, so I listened. The animal trader said that his lammules eat and drink little, walk quickly, and carry a lot of baggage. Perhaps he was not trying to deceive me.

Before giving him the money - several large copper coins, I examined the goods offered to us. The lammules were well-groomed, well-fed, and had no obvious defects. And yet I rejected several "horses" that aroused my doubts.

Together with Bruno, we carefully examined the lammules offered to us: wide two-toed feet with elastic calluses, soft fur - checking for hidden ulcers, and teeth - so that an old animal would not be sold as a young one.

The deal left both parties happy.

When Aglon led most of the selected lammuls to the pen, I shook Bruno's hand in gratitude. At that moment, Basil approached with a smile that mixed cunning and amusement:

"If I understood correctly, we are still going to the White Mountains?"

"Gather all the tipsy travelers and go to bed. So far, you are only interfering with the preparations with your questions."

"I hear and obey, my lord," Basil answered playfully, putting his palm to his head, like a faithful "Tin Woodman." He turned around, grabbed Nikos and Theodore by the hands, and led them to bed.

I couldn't help but smile, looking at this noisy trio. I always had more fun with them - it was worth those whims that sometimes made me quite nervous.

In the pen, Pete, Ena's father, was preparing the harness for the lammuls with thoughtful detachment. His movements were precise, almost mechanical - despite his heavy intoxication, he did not miss a single strap, checking the strength of each seam and rivet. But in his gaze, sliding past the details, something else was guessed as if it was not belts and buckles that were flashing before him, but some vague images.

Leaving Pete, I turned to the young assistant and together with him went to one of the unremarkable village houses. Once upon a time, the blacksmith Maleus lived here with his family, and it was with his help that I created my sword, called the Righteous. Of the forge where we worked tirelessly, there was no trace left - only the foundation of the smelting furnace.

I greeted the house owner, who was not related to the famous blacksmith. An elderly but strong man looked at me questioningly.

"Are my things safe?"

"Yes, they are inviolable. You know that. Do you want to take them?"

"I do, but not all of them."

After exchanging greetings, I entered the barn where I once slept. Having read the spell that unlocked the lock, I opened a wooden cabinet darkened by time - an Orkvalian storage chamber.

Several leather bags lay in the cabinet, biding their time. The house owner was stamping his feet behind me, sighing and shifting from foot to foot like a penguin. Having checked the contents of the bags, I took the prepared payment for storage from my pocket. The "penguin," seeing the copper coins in my palm, smiled.

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. - "If you don't mind, I will continue to rent this barn for a while."

"Whatever you say, I don't mind your things."

Locking the closet, I thought that if the squires saw the contents of the bags left in the closet, they would curse me for eternity. But I couldn't help it. My plan with Nix still hadn't been implemented.

Busy with calculations and planning for the upcoming journey, I did not notice how the tired sun sank below the horizon.

In the evening, at dinner, the squires, having slept well and taken a refreshing shower, ate thick corn porridge with meat gravy with appetite. During the meal, we discussed the best way to get around the city, moving through the surrounding villages, where the likelihood of meeting the lions of Asir was close to zero.

After the approximate route was laid out, the next topic for discussion was our weapons.

Bruno complained that none of the traders passing through Swifts had a sufficient supply of arrows.

"At least a hundred per man," he shook his head.

"Yes, we could use some extra weapons," I narrowed my eyes, but no one reacted to this. Pete silently looked into his bowl, and Theodore thoughtfully scratched the back of his head.

"What extra weapons?" — Michel was surprised. — "Swords, spears, staffs, bows, axes? Or maybe you're talking about a catapult?

"

"Aglon, come on!"

The young assistant dragged several leather bags with difficulty and threw them by the table.

I untied the first one and pulled out a brand new assault rifle, still smelling of factory grease. The second bag contained magazines, collimator sights, and boxes of ammunition. Surprised, Basil pulled out a round, apple-shaped grenade from the third bag.

"What is this?" Michel said, stunned, not taking his eyes off the contents of the bags. — "Where did you get this?"

"What I just said — an additional weapon," I answered, pausing. I didn't want to lie, so I honestly admitted:

"On one of my trips, I came across an abandoned pickup truck in the forest. Judging by the flat tires and dead battery, it was abandoned a long time ago. The owner was never found."

"Remember, at the fair, a man approached us, Viper, I think? He said that he came here from our world. Maybe the car belonged to him?" Michel thought.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."

Alex immediately rejected the rifle, preferring his shotgun, and I showed no interest either, relying on the Righteous and spells.

Michel turned the rifle in his hands with displeasure.

"Not my caliber," he noted with obvious displeasure. "If only it were a nine-millimeter or at least a seven-sixty-two."

"Close to your preferences, six and eight by fifty-one, range - up to a mile," I winked. — "I don't think we'll get into a serious fight, our goal is to scare them off if necessary."

Stolen story; please report.

Nikos, Basil, and Theodore, like boys, greedily grabbed their rifles, looking at them like precious trophies.

Catching the shadow of his target with his gaze, Michel felt the power of the weapon, and a grin flashed across his face — the rifle, as if sensing its owner, obeyed, promising faithful service.

Later, Michel admitted that if he had seen a dragon, he would have been much less surprised.

Taking the rifle in his hands, he pulled the bolt, and squinted predatorily, looking through the narrow slit of the front sight at a non-existent enemy.

"Are we leaving our swords in the village?" — Alex turned his gaze to his trusty shotgun. Basil, deep in cleaning, turned the shirt into a rag, carefully cleaning off excess grease and checking the barrel for cleanliness.

"We will take all the weapons with us, but I warn you: shoot only in extreme cases. Did everyone hear me? Basil, this applies to you too!" - I looked at him sternly. "We do not need unnecessary sounds of gunfire. We have Alex's gun for hunting, and for close combat - swords. Pete, Bruno, Aglon, and I are excellent with blades. It would be good if your squires resumed training - swordplay can save your lives when the bullets run out. Understand, bullets will not always solve the problem."

"Are you saying that you only need bullets for your travels?" Basil growled defiantly.

"Don't be silly, Basil. "It's about all of us returning home when we decide, together, without exception," I answered firmly, looking at the squires.

"Why do we need these rifles? Why didn't you say anything about them before?" Nikos seemed to have decided to distract me from arguing with Basil.

"Didn't you hear where I got them from?" I asked, feeling slightly irritated. "We were just going to relax in the fresh air in the first place. Remember how our conversation started? Then we went looking for Pete, and then... we ended up in Swifts and realized that we had to head for the White Mountains. So much happened along the way!"

"Oh!" - everyone nodded with a collective sigh, apparently remembering their recent misadventures.

Bruno, who had been listening to all this time, said:

"Just don't forget to mention the dragon and Flapier!"

He pointed to the rifles: "Are those magic wands that kill from a distance?"

"Yes," Basil confirmed, checking the empty magazine, "but much more powerful."

At the mention of Flapier, Pete flinched and glanced in my direction, obviously checking to see if I noticed his reaction. I pretended not to notice anything and turned to Bruno.

"We are not afraid of the dragon. I can assure you that he will not pose a threat in any case. I am worried about other things… not just wild animals or creatures that I may not have met yet. I am worried about people – or those tribes that the old man spoke of in the tavern. Remember? Or, say, Gregor’s people. I do not want to go back to prison. Then, after the fight with Gregor, I was arrested only because I was too weak and exhausted.”

Basil suddenly shouted:

“We are strong now!”

His voice had the same notes that you can hear in the primal cry of a man who for the first time realized that the club in his hands can not only protect but also smash skulls.

“We have swords, spears, bows, arrows and rifles. There is only one thing I do not understand: each of us can use magic, except Alex. Why is that? Why does he not have magical abilities?”

“I cannot answer that question yet,” I said, looking closely at Alex. — Magic manifests itself differently, in each person in their way: in some, it is stronger, in others it is weaker. Maybe his time has not yet come. Maybe he does not want to admit it. Alex, did you feel anything unusual? Did you notice anything? "

Alex was silent and only shrugged weakly. This could mean that if he had hidden abilities, he would prefer not to show them right away, but would save them for a more suitable moment.

"Why did we gain magical abilities?" Michel said thoughtfully, returning to the old topic. - "In our world, we were ordinary people, without super-intuition, without any extrasensory skills. But here, each of us has acquired powers that elevate us above others. Why don't Pete and Bruno have such abilities? After all, they were born and raised here, they know their land like the back of their hand. They should be able to fly without wings and burn enemies with one glance, but they have nothing like that."

Michel's words hung in the air, separating the natives from the newcomers as if an invisible line stretched between us and our local companions.

"To be honest, I don't know how to explain it exactly," I began, trying to collect my thoughts.

"It seems that this planet is permeated with the life energy of Oceania, and it bestows it upon people who are different from others. In this world, magic is the basis of everything, connecting the mind with reality.

On Earth, we barely feel its presence, but here, magic is everywhere, like a natural force of nature, able to turn images and dreams into reality. Orkvalia is like a huge canvas, responding to our thoughts and desires, and turning them into something tangible. Plants, animals, people, fantastic creatures - all are products of Oceania's magic, enriching the world, supporting life, and allowing us to harmonize with its essence.

If in our world we see only isolated manifestations of magic, here it exists as a natural force capable of bringing to life the boldest ideas and images.

But there is one nuance: magical abilities are not available to those born in Orkvalia. So far, the culture of the inhabitants of Orkvalia lacks writing, and all spells are transmitted only by words, which leads to a distortion of the spell formula. Each incorrect pronunciation can disrupt the harmony of the spell, and it loses its power.

Thus, the magic that exists around them becomes unattainable for them, despite their rich imagination. Just as you can’t step into the same river twice, you can’t create something that didn’t work the first time.

As far as I know, a resident, before becoming a magician, must memorize a magic spell. Otherwise, the power of Oceania can destroy both the student and the teacher who used the corrupted spell.

Therefore, magicians are reluctant to take on students and carefully guard their spells, fearing that a mistake could lead to catastrophic consequences."

I told about the war that once raged in these parts between the magicians who wanted to divide the world into regions for convenience and control.

Dozens of magicians participated in this war, and all of them were masters of their craft. As often happens, the strongest won.

To protect Orkvalia from the Dark Forces, four powerful magicians who won the war joined forces and divided parts of the world among themselves.

Some settled in the south, in Bolokoo, some in Diodorim, some in the White Mountains.

The war destroyed most of the sorcerers and wizards, allowing swamp spirits, verlioks, and other vile creatures to penetrate Orkvalia.

It took Nix, an ally of the Four, a lot of effort to restore order.

I was telling my friends and future companions the story, but it seemed to me that I looked like a boring lecturer giving a lecture to a sleeping audience:

"Perhaps, while wandering through the White Mountains, we will meet Mostrim, the magician of the White Mountains. I hope he will not refuse to help us..."

"Let's take two local girls with us," Basil suggested completely out of place. "They will follow us."

"Why do we need extra trouble?" Nikos frowned.

Basil shrugged, admitting the purity of his plans:

"Nothing special. It will help Ena feed such a large group, and we will have more fun with them."

"You can invite them," I did not argue with him. - But I didn't count on them, the number of lammuls is limited, you can give them yours, and you will go on foot."

Basil did not like this proposal.

We talked for a long time on various topics, sorting out and preparing weapons, supplies, and clothes.

Bruno, Pete, Aglon, and Ena did not interfere in our conversation, only occasionally asking their interlocutors to repeat themselves, having heard words and terms unknown to them.

Wipe the blade of the sword with a piece of soft cloth, I anxiously watched the people with whom I was about to go to the mountains. My chest squeezed as if fate itself was warning about something dark, approaching like a thundercloud. Whether this was a trace of Nix's warnings, his predictions of imminent danger, or still a whisper of my intuition, I did not know.

I caught myself thinking about each of them - their faces, moments of victory and vulnerability. Most of all, the thought that I would not be able to protect them the way once failed to protect his younger brother Serge.

Pete's fate worried me no less than the fate of the other participants in the upcoming journey.

He sat next to me, with his usual imperturbable face, as if he was carefully hiding everything that was going on inside him. But something in his appearance, in the tense line of his shoulders, in his gaze, eluding mine, literally screamed that something was gnawing at him. It was unknown from what - pride or fear - he stubbornly remained silent as if he was afraid to admit even to himself that this unknown burden was not letting go of him.