Having left the village of Gonta, we continued our journey west, towards the distant and unknown Astiaria.

I had not set foot on its lands in my six previous journeys, but I assumed that the same people and creatures lived there as in Orkvalia, spoke the same language, and pursued similar goals.

When you met an Astarian, you would not immediately distinguish him from an Orkvalian until he introduced himself. The only thing was that the inhabitants of Astiaria did not care about the harvest - their skill was in raising livestock. At the city fairs, they were the ones who sold taftons - powerful, slow bulls capable of pulling several carts at once.

By the way, one of them in the village sold us some lammuls.

While I was telling my companions about my thoughts about Astiaria, Pete suddenly stopped, turned around, and said with a solemn look:

"Now we boldly change the path to the north!"

The next few days of travel did not bring us any special changes.

We hardly noticed the difference between moving west and going north - the same endless expanses, meadows, forest plantations, and the absence of traces of human presence. Everything around resembled a huge reserve, where birds and animals had no idea how dangerous a person could be.

To entertain ourselves a little, we began to come up with familiar names for the animals we met in this peaceful land.

The colorful birds flying into the thickets of tall wheat reminded us of domestic chickens, and the white, wavy, and grunting animals reminded us of pigs.

The abundance of flora and fauna here seemed to allow everyone to exist without grief and anxiety.

These expanses have remained peaceful until now thanks to the fact that many years ago one brave man destroyed the local family of dragons, leaving behind a legend - and lands free from the horror of winged predators.

I have not heard from the old-timers about droughts or heavy rains that could ruin crops. I am not a geographer and know little about the latitudes where Orkvalia is located.

Summer in this country was dry and hot, and autumn was warm and welcoming, but winter flooded the inhabitants of the country with endless rains. Leaves fell, and many animals hibernated for some unknown reason.

But spring, as expected, was a little cool, but awakening.

Flowers that had been dormant all winter suddenly blossomed, and trees that had shed their leaves for winter sleep opened new buds that promised living greenery.

Probably, my forest nymph Dionela tried as best she could.

The locals did not know the runny nose, colds, and other respiratory diseases that we could envy them.

A lot of time has passed since the dragon Vulgaris canceled the order of his cousin Pyronax, and this seems to have turned out to be beneficial for the entire area.

If you do not take risks and are careful, you can live, work, and travel in Orkvalia.

Ena's mother died through carelessness at the hands of an animal that combined the features of a human and a large gray bear.

Such animals were called ursans. People were afraid of their unbridled anger, powerful claws, and sharp jaws. These furry creatures lived in small packs, guarding their possessions. Usually, they settled near huge berry fields and tried to stay away from human settlements.

People avoided such places, but Ena's mother, absorbed in picking berries, wandered into the forbidden territory.

For this, she paid with her life, leaving the restless girl in Pete's care. The caring father put his soul and heart into his daughter, and now she accompanied him on a long journey.

Moving along a green meadow, we came across a herd of Orkvalian rhinoceroses, who seemed not to pay attention to us. These animals resembled giant rhinoceroses, but with many spikes and horns, with thick skin, and they calmly nibbled the grass, allowing us to pass by unhindered.

We were lucky, so to speak.

Usually, when seeing such a wild animal, the inhabitants of Orkvalia either hid or avoided the place where it was grazing, especially on those days when the females were preparing to become mothers.

A few hours later, we came across a predator dozing after a hunt.

It resembled an Amur tiger in appearance, but its fur was gray-brown, which made it almost invisible against the background of the surrounding nature.

Suddenly, a long, sharp roar was heard - a warning that made us freeze in place.

Basil raised his rifle, preparing to shoot. I extended my hand, and a barely visible silver thread stretching from it to the weapon prevented him from committing an unpunished murder.

Basil twirled the rifle in his hands with displeasure and looked at me.

"I told you that it was not worth shooting in vain."

"So this is your trick?"

"You're right. It does not threaten you in any way, it is simply warning you not to come closer."

Basil snorted and walked towards his lammul, grabbing the reins with such force as if the animal was guilty.

We walked silently for several tedious minutes, and no one attacked us. The Lammulas calmed down, and the journey continued.

Very often, frightened by our steps, birds similar to partridges and pheasants would fly up from the grass, and sometimes bustards would run past. Two-legged and four-legged animals lived by their laws and rules: they dug holes, built nests, and worried about the safety of their offspring.

Flocks of birds flew by in the clear autumn sky, striving for winter. Their restless cries awakened despondency and melancholy in my heart.

I suddenly wanted to return to my familiar, civilized world. Turn on the TV, sit in front of the computer monitor, and ride the roaring of a car.

In the evenings, the surrounding area was drowned in thick milky fog. Sometimes, adding to the sadness and despondency, a fine nasty rain would drip from the sky.

Theodore was whining from lack of alcohol, and Basil was trying his best to make friends with our only girl.

Idleness was getting tiresome, and to stay in shape, I made the squires practice fencing with wooden swords during our stops.

The time was, to put it mildly, not too busy, and I was looking for a way to maintain the team's combat readiness.

The guys, of course, were not eager to practice, finding all sorts of excuses to avoid training. As soon as they got their hands on automatic rifles, they imagined that these deadly machines were a panacea for all ills.

But soon the events that followed forced them to reconsider this illusion.

Although Pete led us along familiar signs, we got lost and found ourselves in a dense thicket of snake trees, its deadly shoots stretching for hundreds of meters around.

Our "horses", sensing the dangerous fumes of the poisonous tree, began to restlessly circle in place.

"Stop!" — Pete waved his hand, ordering Bruno, who was bringing up the rear, to step back. The noise of the falling tree drowned out his cries, and we were trapped.

I thought that we could use Vlastimir's help right now. After shouting his name several times and peering into the sky in vain, I realized that he would not appear.

We huddled in a small clearing where there were no poisonous shoots and began to discuss how to get out. Wings, fire, a suspension bridge, and teleportation were mentioned, but the most realistic option turned out to be using our regular swords as machetes.

Even the sensible Basil admitted that we would not be able to clear these thickets with rifles.

Taking out our swords, we began to chop down the poisonous greenery together.

The shoots hissed like snakes, curled into balls, and suddenly straightened out, ready to wrap themselves around us again.

It was a real massacre!

Wrapped in our woolen travel cloaks, we fought the green monster, never giving ourselves a moment's respite. Leaves and sharp thorns flew in all directions.

Each of us tried to prevent the tree's poison from getting on our skin, on the exposed areas of our faces. The severed shoots rose from the path as long poles, cut from the same deadly branches.

Ena and Pete freed from the battle, kept our lammuls under control while we cleared the way.

It took us several hours to clear the way.

Tired but satisfied, we got out of the plant trap and, having made sure that the shoots of the snake tree did not reach this place, fell with relief onto the fresh grass.

The battle had exhausted us to the limit, and without thinking, we all made a decision: that day we would not move anywhere else.

Having eaten the remains of our hiking bags, we sank into a healing sleep. Perhaps someone slept without dreams. I dreamed of a meeting with my mentor, with Oceania.

I stood on the top of a high, lifeless cliff, surrounded by a layer of thick clouds, like an endless snow-white carpet under my feet. From horizon to horizon, everything was hidden by this soft, moving cover, making me feel as if I were floating in emptiness.

Suddenly a girl appeared next to me, beautiful and mysterious.

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I looked at her face, unable to understand whose features she was showing: sometimes I saw Ullia, daughter of Aelfric, sometimes Elaine's face, Ena's - the features smoothly flowed into each other, like a rippling reflection on the water.

"Forgive me," she said, and as always, her voice seemed to float into my consciousness, soft and enveloping. - "I know you wanted to talk to me, to ask your questions again."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she raised her hand, stopping me as if she already knew everything I wanted to ask. Her words sounded like a melody that you hear for a long time and cannot forget:

"I never stop watching you, and do you know what I have long wanted to tell you?"

She was silent for a moment, as if choosing her words, then continued:

"To my great regret, I have nothing more to give you. You have already achieved perfection ... and in some ways, you have even surpassed me."

Her words stunned me at first. For all my life I had felt her as a wise and unattainable source of knowledge. But then, looking at her flickering, changing image, I realized that she was not simply letting me go - she was trusting me with her path, her lessons, knowing that now I was ready to go forward myself.

I saw her smile - warm as the spring sun, and felt a surge of adrenaline, strange for a dream, but distinct.

Oceania, my mentor, was watching me, her image still flickering, like an elusive reflection in the water.

"You have chosen worthy students," she said, nodding softly. - "They are bold, daring, a little greedy ... just like you once were. There is more between you than just friendship, it is an incredibly strong bond. Are you related?"

"Almost," I chuckled. - "We all grew up together, side by side. Childhood friends."

Oceania smiled back, a mysterious light flashing in her eyes.

"You have no idea how powerful this connection is," she said. "In Orkvalia, such spiritual bonds create an invisible protective barrier that will one day save your lives. But, Arian..."

Her voice hardened, taking on a warning tone.

"I need you to know that with each return to Orqualia, you bring new knowledge here. About building houses, about fields, about fortifying fortresses... All this can be useful, but each innovation is a test for this country and its balance. Be careful."

I nodded reluctantly, acknowledging that she was right. In our world, I spent hours reading histories, architectural treatises, and ancient military works.

I believed that all this could be useful in Orkvalia and that knowledge of plows and gunpowder would open new paths for me.

But Oceania looked at me with alarm.

"When a jug is full to the brim, it is hard to carry it without spilling the water," her words sounded like a heavy warning. "What you consider a blessing may become an irreparable evil for Orkvalia."

With these words, Oceania melted into thin air, and darkness enveloped me.

The darkness was alive, fetid, it pressed on my chest, and its vibrating roar filled everything around me. I felt the smell of blood, wild screams, a sense of pain, and then - fell into a dreamless sleep.

With awakening, the feeling of unreality did not disappear, but on the contrary, seemed to be superimposed on the viscous fatigue in my body. Oceania's words swirled in my thoughts, leaving me confused, as if I had discovered a long-forgotten truth, but did not know what to do with it.

I felt that my answers sounded detached and careless as if I were talking to friends through the thickness of water. They exchanged meaningful glances and, deciding that the drops of the snake tree had caused this strange decline, tried to keep their distance, only occasionally asking questions.

All day long I mechanically did my usual things, listening to myself and trying to understand: what had changed?

Oceania's words - "You have become what you aspired to be" - haunted me, suggesting that I was standing on some invisible border.

It seemed that here it was, the long-awaited feeling of having achieved the goal, but it did not bring peace, but, on the contrary, caused vague anxiety, as if I was not facing the summit, but a new, endlessly difficult climb.

While we were preparing to continue our journey, I often caught my friends' glances at me, but I did not know how to explain this strange, heavy insight to them.

A few days later, we came across a barely noticeable road hidden in the green grass. It led to a village whose name sounded like something dark and mysterious - Ash Hill. For Orkvalia, this was a fairly large village or rather a small town. Like the border of the country, Ash Hill enclosed everything that was beyond it. Further, for many months of travel, there was not a single settlement.

The area surrounding the village was almost deserted, and people fleeing from the cruel rulers of Orkvalia did not dare to settle there.

However, the village itself, lost in the shadow of the mountains and surrounded by vast fields, looked attractive.

The Ash Hill attracted fugitives, disappointed in the past and wanting to start a new life.

The inhabitants of this place were not divided into rich and poor. Here, everyone could find a place and work. Everyone worked, and no one was left without work.

This city, like a prehistoric commune, had its special system.

People who arrived here, regardless of whether they had a profession or did not know how to do anything, were trained or sent to work that did not require special skills.

It was necessary to work here - otherwise punishment. Those who were lazy were subjected to harder work, and if this did not help, the harshest sentence awaited them - exile.

Everything was arranged so that everyone felt part of this small world, but at the same time was responsible for its well-being. It was a community where everyone was needed, but responsibility fell on everyone.

The leader of the settlement was a man with a keen eye and a rare talent for understanding people. He knew how to single out those who could make a real difference and make them part of his plan. It was thanks to his ability to see hidden talents that the settlement of Ash Hill prospered, despite its remoteness from the main trade routes and the center of Orkvalia.

He gathered craftsmen, blacksmiths, weavers, and carpenters into one cartel, allowing everyone to do what they loved and bring to the settlement everything that was needed for a full life.

Thanks to this, Ash Hill always had prosperity. Shoes, clothes, furniture, tools for field work - all this was made here. Local craftsmen provided the residents with everything they needed, and public workshops such as a bakery, a mill, and a smokehouse worked for the benefit of everyone.

New arrivals were initially placed outside the village, in places where there were neither high walls nor a night guard. But even here, in conditions of relative solitude, they got down to business: they built new houses, removed garbage, prepared logs for future buildings, and looked after the old and the sick. There was enough work for everyone.

Those who showed themselves quickly, who were not afraid of work and showed their value, soon became full-fledged residents and were allowed to move into a house in the village itself, within the town. The lazy ones, who dragged out time or preferred idleness, were left outside the perimeter. And although they continued to live within the settlement, their position was far from privileged.

This order gave Ash Hill a special atmosphere: people here did not depend on the power of princes, but they could not afford to relax either. Everything was built on trust and mutual support, which made their community strong and united.

The residents of the village of Ash Hill knew how to not only work but also relax in a truly grand manner. Few holidays were filled with life, and everyone knew how important it was to find time for joy and fun, especially on days when a hard-working season was ending.

We entered the town at a time when the square was full of people. Everyone was waiting for the ceremonial beginning. The ruler, standing on a small elevation, loudly announced the beginning of the holiday dedicated to the Day of the autumn harvest.

This day was special - not only because the hard season was ending, but also because at this moment everyone could create their own family, allying with the one they chose. On this day, there were no barriers to love and a new beginning, and it seemed that many were looking forward to this.

The tables set up along the perimeter of the square were bursting with food abundance. Generous hosts put out homemade pastries, meat and fish dishes, sweets, as well as drinks - both strong and refreshing sweet drinks. The air was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meat, and fried fish beckoned with its appetizing aroma.

The streets were decorated with garlands of fresh flowers and bright fruits, creating an atmosphere of warmth and celebration.

Cheerful music sounded from everywhere, and the laughter of the inhabitants intertwined with the melodies, creating a feeling of happiness and carefreeness. The small town was filled with joy when its inhabitants, dressed in festive clothes, did not hesitate to express their gratitude to the ruler.

They praised him for his ability to manage business, for the fact that the settlement was flourishing, and he in return gave them smiles and friendly bows, as always modestly accepting their praise.

The unexpected intrusion of a small cavalcade abruptly disrupted the festive atmosphere, forcing people to freeze warily for a moment.

Several horsemen who rode up to the square looked somehow out of place among the cheerful crowd. Concentration shone in their eyes, and they resembled travelers who had come from afar, with an unclear purpose.

However, soon, realizing that we were just travelers and not envoys of some hostile people, the villagers quickly returned to their merriment. Without further ado, they seated us at separate tables, as befits guests, and again immersed themselves in the celebration, not attaching any particular importance to our appearance.

The music continued to sound, its light but lively melodies becoming brighter and more joyful. The musicians, skillfully beating the tambourines, as well as masterfully playing the flutes and trumpets, merged with the atmosphere of the celebration, creating a sound mosaic in which there was no room for boredom.

Some of the locals even began to dance, with a light and relaxed step, as if they were moving to the beat of the music themselves.

The faces of the travelers, on which only recently one could see only fatigue and tension, were now illuminated by the joy of the upcoming feast.

We forgot our daily worries with ease, and soon looked relaxed, pleased to have found ourselves in such a welcoming place. There was no hostility in our glances, but rather our eyes radiated interest and curiosity, like people who had found themselves in a new, unknown world.

Without wasting time, we enthusiastically set about the treats. Hearty home-cooked food, fragrantly smelling of meat and spices, and drinks as strong as whiskey, did not disappoint. We eagerly devoured everything that was displayed on the tables, forgetting about early worries, and allowed ourselves to enjoy the hospitality of the locals as if all worries had disappeared for a while.

Next to me, there were several young girls, whose laughter and cheerful conversations immediately attracted my attention. Their faces were shining with happiness, and their eyes sparkled with a playful light. Without the slightest embarrassment, they began to court me, smiling and offering one dish after another. Their laughter, light and ringing like bells, softly penetrated the ears and warmed the soul.

They were especially amused by a strange phenomenon: several small green leaves began to sprout on my hands and neck. Surprise and admiration froze in their eyes as if I were something mystical and mysterious. But I did not have time to feel embarrassed - the girls, laughing, continued their flirtatious remarks, promising me unearthly pleasures with their looks.

I took a glass with a drink made from the juice of fermented berries, and as soon as the taste of the intoxicating juice touched my tongue, my head instantly cleared up.

Anxieties disappeared, and the world around acquired lightness and brightness as if everything that was happening was part of a great holiday.

Suddenly, a warm touch from one of the girls, her hand slid along my back and grew into a strong embrace. I forgot where I was, and what moved me, what I was thinking about. All that mattered was the moment.

One of the twins, frowning slightly, touched my chest, and as soon as her fingers slid over my muscles, she sang in surprise:

"Oh-oh, what powerful muscles we have! How manly and beautiful! Why didn't you come a little earlier, before the party? I want you to spend the whole evening next to me!"

"And with me!" - her sister repeated with a smile. - "Let's dance!"

And now we were already drawn into the festive whirlwind, with music sounding everywhere, like in old funny fairy tales.

Laughter, dancing, and lightness filled the evening, and all my worries dissolved, giving way to carefree joy.

My friends did not waste time either.

Outbursts of laughter, cheerful conversations, and a warm holiday atmosphere left the feeling that no one could stay away.

I didn't notice everyone at first, but I knew that no one would be offended that evening - everyone was involved in the general joy.

And then, when I was absorbed in the moment, enjoying kisses with one of the sisters, suddenly I felt someone tugging at my sleeve.

It was not just a touch - it made me break the long kiss, and I looked around in surprise.

Ena stood before me, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her gaze was full of anger. At that moment, she seemed even more attractive and sweet than usual.

"E-Ena, let's dance with you!" I blurted out. - "It's so good that you're here. Where have you been?"

In response, she coldly bit her lower lip and slightly bowed her head, as if she was about to say something, but her face expressed only irritation.

"Stop it!" - her voice was firm and decisive.

The sisters, who were standing nearby, looked at each other in surprise, not understanding what was happening.

"Is this your wife?" - they asked in unison. - "Why is she angry?

"It's a holiday today!"

"Everyone is resting today! Come on, dance with us too!"

Ena did not pay attention to their words and answered directly:

"You can't dance with them! You're drunk and it's time for you to go to bed!"

"But I don't want to!" I objected, not understanding her aggression.

Behind me, confusion grew.

"What happened? Why is she suddenly so angry?"

Smiling, I asked:

"Is there a reason to be upset? Why are you forbidding me? Why?"

She clenched her teeth and snorted, answering:

"Because you're an insensitive log!"

Her face was distorted with rage, and she turned and walked away.

Before disappearing into the crowd, she threw over her shoulder:

"Animal!"