Surrounded by the dim light, Bruno sat on a short stool within the warehouse, a knife, and a small piece of wood in his hands. He meticulously carved something out of it, while similarly little pieces lay scattered around his feet on the ground. A broader plank with a square painted on it stood nearby, filled with smaller squares—eight horizontally and eight vertically. Every other one was marked black with charcoal.
Several workers buzzed around the young alchemist, placing furniture and equipment. One man was perched on a ladder, cutting a hole in the wall to fashion a window that would allow more light into the space. The saw he was using produced the characteristical sound.
Currently, the only source of illumination was the door, but the busy workers often blocked it, impeding the progress of the boy's work more than his unskilled fingers were already doing.
Another shape blocked the door, revealing itself as Javohir, who approached Bruno. For a brief moment, he observed, curiosity gnawing at him until he couldn’t hold it anymore and had to ask, "What are you doing?"
"Sculpting. Can't you see?" The young alchemist replied, recognizing his friend by the voice, not gracing him with even a single glance.
"Why?"
Bruno responded with a short chuckle before explaining, "I will need to think a lot in the future. I will need to be creative and come up with many solutions. The mind is tricky. It works best when introduced to a problem but then distracted by something else. Haven't you noticed that the best ideas come to you when you do something else but try to solve your predicament?"
"So you want to distract yourself with sculpting? That's an interesting hobby, but I never expected you to be interested in something like that," the Exalonian shrugged.
"And your expectations were correct. I do enjoy art, but I'm not interested in producing it. I'm only sculpting because I have to. I want to recreate a game that will allow me to distract myself and also practice a little. There is one more reason... I want you to learn this game," he informed, finally shifting his gaze to Javohir, but only briefly, as the labor required his full attention since he was working with a sharp tool.
"What game is it?" the Exalonian asked, leaning a bit forward to have a better look at Bruno’s craftsmanship and the pieces he already produced.
"Different places have different names for it. I like to call it The Grand Strategy, as it sounds funny to me. You see, some people believe that this game can train your mind about war and the moves on the battlefield, or even about court intrigues, but those are ridiculous claims," the young alchemist chuckled. "This game has rules. Certain pieces can move in certain ways. Two players have the same number of pieces and move them on the board trying to take down the king of the other player. Life, on the other hand, and war as well, don’t have such rules. You and those whom you are fighting against usually have different amounts of troops. Their equipment is different. The geography and the logistics also come into the picture. Sometimes you are even competing against not one, but many enemies. This is the reason why I find it so funny, but those differences don’t mean the game doesn’t have its purpose. It can teach you to think in a certain way, and I need you to be smart, my dear friend."
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His explanation allured some curious gazes from the workers, but those were only brief glances as the men were too busy with work to pay too much attention. Few for a moment looked at the pieces and the board, but none of those items appeared to be intriguing enough to serve as more than a momentary distraction.
"I see," Javohir scratched his chin. "If you think I should learn it, I will."
"It will be a great distraction for you and your physically intense training," Bruno added. "Now, please tell me why I owe your visit? Are you checking on me because you are afraid that I'm lazy?" A smirk curved his lips. „I thought you’ve learned already that I’m always working.”
"No, but I was curious about the progress in setting up your workshop. Me and Raul are going to train a bit, so we won't be around for a while," the Exalonian explained.
"What about V?"
"She is... getting to know the town," Javohir replied with a short pause, discreetly glancing at the workers to check if anybody was eavesdropping.
"It’s a new place for her, but I’m sure she will soon feel like a fish in the water,” Bruno said, with confidence. „She just needs a little change in the way she looks at her situation. You shouldn’t worry about her too much. I’ll be around for her. Instead, focus on helping our big friend to develop his skills. He has the physique, but I doubt his technique is anything but horrible."
"He is not that bad," the Exalonian shrugged. "I’ll leave you to your sculpting… Have fun," he added, and a smirk appeared on his lips before he left the warehouse.
Outside, in the inn, which became their current lodging, Viki sat by a table in the corner drinking watered-down cider. It was a good spot to have a look at the well-lit interior where a few people sat by the tables. Most of them were passing by wagoners, who awoke recently and now had their late breakfasts, soon to resume their journey to the capital with the goods they were transporting, but there were also a few locals.
She noticed a clear division into two groups. One consisted of the workers and farmers who only briefly visited the establishment to quench their thirst before returning to work. The other part included drunkards who began their day with as much drink as they could allow themselves to buy.
Among those, she looked for possible links that would allow her to contact the supposed group of rebels. 'Nobody so far,' she thought, sipping her drink, only glancing from time to time at the patrons, 'but if Bruno is right, it should be a person like that. Most don’t pay attention to drunkards, so they can eavesdrop well. Knowing that asshole, he is probably right,' despite the insult a smile crept on her lips the very moment she thought about the strange boy. Her left hand involuntarily moved to her chest, where her fingers could feel the shape of a ring, which she hung on a thong so she could conceal it under her clothing, afraid somebody could dare to steal it from her if she recklessly flashed the precious item on one of her fingers.
After this brief pause, she glanced again, keeping a vigilant eye. Tracing all the changes in the behavior of the guests. Thanks to this action, she noticed a man who appeared slightly tipsy. Seemingly for no reason, he moved from one table to another, slightly closer to the counter, in the process ordering a refill of his mug from the bald bartender, who appeared to be unhappy about his presence in the inn. This put this drunkard closer to a group of wagoners discussing something among themselves.
The man was rather well-dressed compared to other enjoyers of the ale, and some of the workers, but his clothes were marked with stains of various origins. Some clearly came from the mud, but there were plenty of marks left by food as well, hinting at his lack of care about living or constant state under the influence of alcohol.
Although this behavior by no means was clear proof, it was definitely information worth keeping in mind. 'I’ll keep an eye on this one,' she concluded, taking another sip of the cider.