He stood in the shadows of an endless crowd of people that he didn't know. He could not distinguish their faces, as if they were not people standing there, but wax candles burning out their last moments in a temple. The screams of the onlookers turned into an endless, unintelligible stream of noise. His battered and bruised body was barely functioning. The sleeves were soaked with blood and already blackened. One eye could see almost nothing. And the scratches and bruises were uncountable. He was one of the many in the crowd that stretched along the main street. The whole city gathered for the event, there were workers, bards, and mothers with their children, there were local unemployed people in ragged clothes, drunks and parasites. Everyone was gathered along this street, and there was no end in sight.

It was a gloomy autumn day. Somewhere in the distance, the blue sky was covered with black rain clouds, lighting themselves up with long white thunderbolts. Far away, factories spewed out massive layers of industrial steam. The wind blew yellow and red leaves everywhere, flying in free flight with pieces of torn and thrown away local newspapers and advertisements. The smell of fire and ash mixed with the smell of unwashed people.

"He's gone, he... has... gone..., " he whined under his breath.

He headed for the front of the crowd, and the closer he got, the more clearly, he could hear the sounds of chains, the creak of wheels, and the wooden platform bending under the weight of something unknown. He heard the whisper of the coachman gently tugging at the reins, and the sound of iron plates of armor. The horses walked slowly, and their snorting did not get any quieter.

It was a dark autumn day that started it all. A day in the capital of a vast country whose government is hidden in the shadows and has yet to reveal itself, a day in a capital where the Inquisition is endowed with such power and influence that the ruler of any other country could only envy, and if he meets even the most insignificant member of this organization, he will only have to listen to what is required, agree and bend the knee as a sign of obedience. People remember that even the bards used to compose their own humorous songs about how an unknown inquisitor came to the country, and a few months later there was a new shining temple in every town or village, around which the locals always crowded with open eyes and mouths, looking at strange people whose white or black clothes were more expensive than all their food bought for the whole year.

He made his way to the front with difficulty and saw the old wooden cart with his own eyes. On top of it stood the iron maiden, tightly chained. Faint streams of blood flowed from her eyes, like two small mountain streams. He saw that the blood had already trickled down to the base of the cart and soaked the wood. And through the small cracks, little droplets fell on the sand covered road, leaving a small path. A few battle inquisitors dressed in black robes with a red-and-white badge and long hoods,

[https://i.imgur.com/Skr5vsE.jpg]

as well as several army generals in their armor, were slowly escorting the wagon. He looked at them, his hands clenched into a tight fist, and his eyes were bloodshot. His body shook.

"Your hypocrisy will soon cease to be a secret," he said.

The people around him began to fall silent, and he felt the air literally permeate with fear and tension. He turned his head to the right and saw a local preacher from one of the capital's main churches approaching the cart, dressed in white and gold cloth robes, a stately infula which reflected the sun's rays with its diamond-encrusted ornaments. He stared at the preacher, not blinking or taking his eyes off him, until he heard someone whispering behind him.

“Whoever the prisoner is, it must be a very serious matter, since such famed people have come to the square.”

“Where there are inquisitors, there are metentises. And if this metentis is still not burning at the stake, then it means that he is quite strong.”

"You think this is all a display for other enemies of the country."

“I don't even doubt it.”

He turned his head in their direction and looked at them from under his brows. They were two simple laborers in tattered leather rags, smelling of sweat and mining, their teeth yellow, dilapidated, their eyes dull, obviously not having seen the light of day for a long time, grayish in color. One of them was finishing a cigarette and threw the butt at his feet. They felt someone's eyes on them, and their faces, covered with dirt and soot, turned smoothly and looked into his eyes. He realized that they were afraid.

"All right, let's go," one of them said.

The other nodded, and they left.

The coachman stopped the wooden cart. The clanking of chains, as well as the noise of people, stopped. The white-clad preacher led his horse smoothly to the iron maiden, the generals helped him down, and the inquisitors stared ahead, looking like grave statues of fallen angels. Deafening thunder sounded. The capital was covered with darkness. The preacher looked around the crowd, climbed up on the cart, which bent even more under his weight, took out a key and opened the iron maiden. A black body fell out of it, with dark red spots of dried blood. The people began to talk quietly among themselves, for no one could tell exactly who the body belonged to. Someone thought that the body was female, someone said that it was definitely a child, and some claimed that the body was male.

"You bastards," he whined under his breath again. “You’ll pay for everything!”

Then he pulled a small crossbow with a single arrow from his sleeve, attached a note to it, took a deep breath, aimed, and fired. A downpour began.

***

Four young men in their mid-twenties had passed through the massive gates of the city of Agernox in the east that evening and had set off into the thick of the forest. Before anyone had time to blink, the sun, burning in a demonic cauldron, sank its bright orange rays below the horizon. And the shadows of the heroes merged with the all-consuming woodland gloom. Lone wolves in the wilderness of a forgotten land in the south of the world, walking through the places where loggers worked a few years ago, until their activities were banned by the state. Now the vast area outside the human settlements was uninhabited. Go all the way to Porhol land in the cold north, and you'll be lucky if you’d meet at least one traveler on the road.

In the capitals of various states, life flowed like a river, but not to say that in all of them. And the population in the villages and hamlets, did not grow at all, rather went on the decline. Many tried to get out of these primitive places, and those to whom fate was not so favorable, thought three times before having at least one child, knowing what a difficult fate he would be doomed to.

The four of them were lucky to be born in the largest capital of the world – Agernox. But to tell the truth, they all have almost no parents or relatives left, if we talk about blood. The only exception was Ofir's grandfather, but he preferred not to talk much about him. One of the members of the small thieves' organization created by Egon was Homer - a guy of medium height, short black hair, green eyes, dressed in new clean clothes, completely inconspicuous and well-groomed. He carried the echoes of a difficult past, in which his parents died of an unknown disease, and he was left alone and without an inheritance. Homer was not intimidating to anyone and always spoke politely, as he had been taught in childhood, without swearing or inappropriate words. Ogun was the complete opposite of him, the shortest guy in the company, with a well-built and at the same time very thin body. Ofir had once called him "Guillotine" because of his tongue, which was as sharp as an executioner's blade, so the nickname got jaded. Egon – the one who had brought them all together and introduced them all so many years ago was no different in appearance: classic short hair, blue eyes, height of one meter eighty-three. The only thing that stood out was an unknown tattoo on his palm, the history of which he did not know at all, just as he did not know who his parents were, not even the slightest memory remained in his head. Ofir was the tallest of the group, with blond hair and dark eyes. An exemplary student and a lover of argument, and if he saw something at least once, he could easily find it in his memory a few years later.

On this dark autumn night, they walked through the forest, in order not to catch anyone's eye. A cold wind was blowing from the north, carrying the distant echo of the war, swaying the treetops from side to side. In the murkiness, the trunks of the fir trees looked like the bones of fallen giants; these forest centenarians occasionally dropped their greenish sharp needles, and sometimes even brown bark, on the cold black ground. The brushwood crunched underfoot like solidified snow on a sunny day. Selectively felled black pines left behind stumps of such size that several people could easily fit there, using the sawn end as a floor where they could spread out a mattress and sleep.

There was nothing to light the way for the four wanderers, and they didn't really need it. In the dark coniferous forest, from time to time you’d meet some deer or a small harmless animal that will be as scared as you are when you meet it. As long as they stayed away from the road, nothing and no one could harm them.

“It’s pitch black in here, can’t see a shit!” Guillotine said.

"And why does all the fun happen at night?" Ofir asked.

"What makes you think, that all the fun happens at night?" asked Homer.

"Fuck, he’s absolutely right, Ofir tell us a couple of interesting stories that happened during the afternoon while we are walking through this damned forest." said Guillotine and nailed a mosquito on his neck.

Ofir thought for a moment, then scratched his head.

“I remember you telling a soldier that if he didn't grant you access to the armory, you would personally execute his family and the soldier himself.”

"I would have done so if Homer hadn't been on his knees apologizing for no reason afterwards," Guillotine said.

"If Homer didn’t do it, the soldier would have shot us on the spot." Egon chipped in.

"Man," Guillotine began, "with all due respect, that little bunny in the service of the inquisitors peed his pants out of fear.”

Homer laughed.

"What's so funny?" Guillotine asked.

"Funny part is," Ofir said, “that you're no more than 160cm tall. We were just lucky that he thought you were a crazy kid.”

“I'm not crazy, and I'm not a kid. We're the same fucking age! And anyway, that soldier must know his place, or I would have taken out an axe and blood from his neck would have pour out like from the new ketchup pack.”

“Is this the one that started selling in those strange packs at the local market?” Egon asked with a smile.

“That's right, that's the one.”

"Damn, it's pouring like from a tap!" said Ofir.

“That's what I'm talking about.”

"How did they even come up with such a thing?" Homer asked.

"I have no idea, but if this inventor comes up with the same thing for mustard, I'll put up a monument to him myself."

"How long do we have to go, though?" Ofir asked.

"I don't know," Egon answered, "until we hit the road."

"Homer, tell me," Guillotine began, "why do some children have everything and we have nothing?"

“I don't know.”

“Because their fat dads provide for them. If a fat donation bank were opened…”

"Then they'd be even richer," Egon interrupted.

“Everything has its own limits.”

"There's no limits. They have children, children have friends, friends have family, and everyone somehow gets their piece of cake. As a result, they unite, create their own districts, protect their possessions with palaces from ordinary workers, like gods; they find connections and pass their place under the sun from generation to generation, inventing stories about their ancient family. Although everything is much more prosaic.”

"Why don't we just break into the house and rob those pigs?"

"Guillotine, can you even express yourself normally?"

“I express myself normally, and if you don't like something, you are welcome to tell me everything to my face.”

“We can't rob their house, because it's surrounded by walls with a guard changing every four hours. Mercenaries armed to the teeth walk through their territory. And there are usually hungry mastiffs running around in the houses.”

"Does anyone remember," Homer continued, " when did Guillotine ever spoke without threats?"

"If he spoke normally, we wouldn't call him Guillotine," Egon said.

"I remember," Ofir said.

"Shut the fuck up," Guillotine suddenly shouted at him.

“Quiet you!” Homer said. “What if the cart is nearby?”

“He went on his first date with a girl…”

"Is that the one who works in the tailor shop?"

"Exactly.”

“So, they were having some sort of a dat...” Ofir did not have time to finish the story and suddenly stumbled, and fell face first into the mud.

“Guillotine, what the fuck are you doing? What if there was a stone lying here?”

“It's not me, you must have hit a bump.”

“Fuck you. You're a fucking nutcase.”

“You remember everything, Ofir, maybe it's time to drop a little memory in the dirt and forget everything like a bad dream?”

"That was ten years ago, everyone remembers that.”

"I don't remember," Egon and Homer said in unison.

The forest thicket suddenly broke off and the four friends found themselves in front of a road full of mud. Egon told them all to stop, and he went to the road, bent down and began to look at something, then got up, turned to the others and said:

“There are no tracks, so we are in time.”

He went back and continued:

“Let me remind you the plan.”

"You told us the plan this morning," Ofir said.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Not everyone has the same memory as you. All right, then, a carriage is about to pass. No one guards it. And the coachman has no idea what he's transporting. Homer, you're the most diplomatic, so you'll talk to the coachman. I'll handle the cargo. There are hills to the right and left, so no one can see us from afar. Guillotine and Ofir will make sure that no one suddenly appears. One of you guards the hill from the direction of the capital, the other from the direction from which the coachman will come. Now, let's hide here and wait.”

“Why Homer is the one who always negotiates, I also want to. I think my methods would be much more effective than the way he constantly mumbles under his breath and everyone we rob takes us for some buffoons.”

“I just don’t threaten people in every sentence.”

“Homer, did your mother take you to eloquence courses as a child?”

“Nobody took me.”

“And what then?”

“Nothing, what do you care?”

“You were probably a good boy in childhood.”

“Stop arguing all the time,” Egon interrupted them.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Guillotine turned to face the others and asked:

"And if no one will pass?"

"They will, there is no other road to the capital from this side."

"And if he won't come through today? Maybe he passed yesterday or will pass in a month?”

"He'll pass today. The information is reliable."

"And who told you about it?"

"I found it out by myself."

"Have you made some rich friends with a long tongue?" Guillotine asked.

“Oh, my God. You give me a headache. I work in a government lab. I got an order for fire crystals to heat up the food. A guy came for the crystals, the son of one of those fat-swollen rich pigs. I didn't even have to ask anything, he started bragging that he had bought the diamonds, that they would arrive tomorrow morning. And then he added that he would personally make a necklace out of them for his girlfriend.”

"Do rich people have kids with brains and a tongues that isn't too long?" Guillotine asked.

“Yes, there are. I used to live in a rich family, if you don't remember,” Homer said.

"I remember," Ofir said.

"No one asked you at all, honey," Guillotine snapped.

Egon raised his hand and whispered to everyone to be quiet.

"Do you hear it?" he asked.

Everyone waved their heads from left to right. A minute later they heard the coachman hurrying his two horses on.

"Get ready," Egon said.

"Is this our first time?" replied Guillotine. "We all know exactly what to do."

The four-wheeled carriage drew closer and closer. Homer leaped out of the bushes at it, and the horses reared up and stopped.

"What are you doing?" The coachman shouted.

"I beg your pardon," Homer began, as three more bodies emerged from the bushes, their faces hidden in the darkness of the night. “We'd like to relief you from the small cargo you're carrying with you. And in order to avoid situations that, let's say, can harm you or your horses, I would ask you to stay where you are.”

"Is this a robbery?"

“I would call it borrowing a small box for the purposes of further charity.”

"A small box?" Asked the coachman.

“Yes.”

Guillotine and Ofir were already in place. All around was the deathly silence of the night. Only small gusts of wind swayed a little the trunks and branches of the trees. And from somewhere in the thicket came the hooting of the owls.

Egon went to the carriage, and before opening the door, he went to the coachman and said:

“We won't keep you for long.”

"Thank you for your courtesy!" The coachman snapped. “Did you go to the eloquence course with this tard?”

"I didn't go anywhere!" Homer shouted. "And I'm not a tard."

“Ah, so you are mother's goody looking for adventures,” the coachman laughed. “Sorry, I didn't understand right away.”

“Please, shut up.”

Homer saw the coachman smile faintly in the light of the dim lamp hanging at the corner of the cart.

"Where are your weapons, thieves? You look more like the local buffoons. Are you sure this isn't a hoax set up by the local rich? If that's the case, then you're all poor actors.”

Egon drew a well-made one-handed sword from its scabbard, so clean that it reflected not only the light of the lamp, but also reflected the light in Homer's eyes.

“Don't worry, we all have it.”

“Got it. I have no questions.”

Egon returned the sword to its scabbard, opened the door of the carriage, went inside and instead of a small box with diamonds, he saw a huge wooden chest.

“What the fuck?” He swore.

"What happened?" Homer shouted.

“Nothing, it's a rhetorical question.”

"There's no box in there?"

"There's a wooden chest here, as big as Guillotine mother's ass. Call him here, though.”

Egon stepped out of the wagon, drew a small sword, and pointed the tip at the coachman's face:

"Wipe that smirk off your face, I won't be polite with you."

Guillotine came up:

"Why haven't you killed the old man yet?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

“Nobody asked you, buddy. You don't have much time left anyway, so don't be indignant.”

"You're thieves, not murderers," the coachman muttered in fear.

“You are a witness! Shut the fuck up, or your blood will pour out of your neck like from the new ketchup pack.”

“Are these the ones that are sold on the market?”

"Yes, those are the ones.”

"Damn it!” The coachman said quietly, and then added, “it would be better for them to make the mustard.”

“You're getting it. Maybe I'll just cut off your leg and let you go if you behave yourself.”

"Guillotine, that's enough. Homer, look after him.”

"Which one of them?"

"The coachman. God, can't you stop asking stupid questions?”

Guillotine ran his thumb along his neck from left to right and asked with a wink:

“You think our "Candy kid" can,” he paused a little and stressed two words "look after", and continued, “this old fart?”

Egon didn't answer, but stepped into the covered carriage. Guillotine followed him and immediately cried out:

“What the fuck is this?”

"What happened?" Homer shouted.

“This is a rhetorical question, watch the coachman and shut the fuck up.”

"Let's get the chest out and open it," Egon said calmly.

Guillotine and Egon took hold of the chest and were unable to lift it.

“Why the fuck is it so heavy? A box of diamonds doesn't weigh that much.”

"I know that without you saying it.”

Egon got out of the cart and called Ofir. He ran up.

"Come in and help us."

Ofir went inside and was about to shout, " What the...?» When Egon interrupted him:

“Stop asking this rhetorical question. Help us get the chest out of here.”

The three of them clung to the trunk and barely lifted it up, after which it fell back to the floor.

"Are they smuggling the dwarven brothers along with the diamonds?"

“I don't know.”

"Don't blow up my carriage!" The coachman shouted to them.

Egon got out of the cart again, looked at the coachman, and all the places where he could store weapons. He didn't find anything.

"Keep sitting here," he told him, then turned to Homer and continued, "go inside."

Homer went inside. The four of them struggled to lift the trunk and slowly began to drag it out.

"I see you guys skipped your blacksmithing classes."

"Shut the fuck up," Guillotine shouted at him. "Before your blood becomes my breakfast sauce."

The coachman swallowed and fell silent, thinking to himself: "Crazy as fuck psychopath."

The friends dragged the trunk out with difficulty. Egon went up to the coachman and said:

"You have five minutes to get away from us without being seen."

"Aren't we going to kill him?" Guillotine asked, "let's at least cut off his leg, I kinda promised him."

"Then how will I get out of here?" asked the coachman.

“You’ll jump out. You certainly didn't skip blacksmithing classes.”

“People pumping up arms there, not legs.”

Guillotine took the two-handed sword from his armpit and began to approach the coachman with a long stride. He jumped down and ran away.

“There you go.” Egon said with a grin.

Ofir took the lamp from the carriage and held it to the chest.

"There's an iron lock," he said.

“I can see that.”

"What do we do with it?"

“Ofir, we won't do anything with it, the chest is made of wood, we'll just break it.”

“Makes sense.”

"Who has a stronger sword?" Egon asked.

"Hold the lamp," Ofir said, and handed it to Homer.

Then he took the morning star from under his cloak. The two friends exchanged glances.

“What are you looking at? I didn't skip blacksmithing classes.”

“Oh...” they all answered in unison.

Ofir swung his club and slammed it into the trunk.

“Oh, fuck!” Someone shouted.

"Homer?" Ofir asked.

"It wasn't me.”

"Who shouted?"

The friends lowered their heads and looked at the chest again. A few logs in the trunk broke. Homer was holding a lantern to the crack when suddenly the lid of the chest shattered, and a huge goblin jumped out, swinging his hammer from side to side, not fully realizing what was happening.

Guillotine looked with a smile at the goblin, who was twenty centimeters taller than him.

“How the fuck did you fit in there?”

"My guard stones," the goblin said. “You… run.”

"That explains why the trunk weighs a ton."

Guillotine took hold of his sword with both hands.

"I'll distract him, you take the box and run away."

"Back!" Goblin shouted. "NO! you dead!"

“I'm going to show you what death is like, you closet lover.”

"We'll help you."

Ofir wrapped both arms around the morning star, Egon pointed his sword at the goblin, and Homer aimed a small crossbow.

"What the fuck do I need you for?"

Guillotine said, and went first. He ran through the shadows of the trees, faintly reflected in the lamplight. The goblin did not wait for the first blow, and in a leap brought his hammer down directly on Guillotine’s head. He dodged and swung around, trying to slash the goblin’s stomach. But the armor blocked the blow.

The goblin laughed: «Weakling!»

"Damn," Ofir said, “that was a really weak hit.”

"But he dodged pretty well," Homer said.

"What kind of giant is this?" Egon asked. “I've never seen such huge goblin in my life.”

“I thought they were small, too, about meter or so.”

"Maybe this is some kind of experimental sample, bred in the very depths of Porhol land? "

"You mean the country with which we are at war last 20 years?"

"Yes, we don’t know anything about it, maybe they are breeding super-huge goblins there?"

"Everything can be."

“Guillotine, by the way, is doing well with him.”

“Definitely not bad!”

“I would not interfere in this fight.”

“I wouldn't either.”

Homer said nothing.

“Guillotine is tough, he wants to defeat everyone himself.”

"So, we'll politely give him the opportunity."

“It's true, we're friends after all.”

Meanwhile, the goblin spun around and began to bring down one blow after another on Guillotine. He began to move away, fending off and dodging a barrage of heavy blows. The goblin stopped for a second, smiled, and threw his hammer forward, Guillotine managed to defend himself at the last second, the enemy's weapons flew into the bushes, but the goblin took out a one-handed hoe from behind his back with his right hand and continued to attack, accelerating in pace. Homer, watching the fight, was startled. He tried to aim and break through the armor. A few seconds later, he fired, and saw a small spark, and then how his arrow burned up in the blink of an eye. Absorbed in the battle, the goblin didn't even notice the attack.

"Did you see it?" Homer asked.

"See what?" Egon and Ofir asked, paying attention to him and finally breaking away from the joint jabs of Guillotine.

“My arrow… I fired, and it burned within a millimeter of the goblin’s armor.”

"No, we didn’t see it."

"You probably saw things."

"You definitely saw things. It can’t happen."

Homer continued to watch the battle, which was barely visible in the light of the only lantern for several miles. "Shit... something strange is happening here..." he thought.

Guillotine continued to step back and managed only to beat off one heavy blow after another. The goblin hid the one-handed hoe behind his back, made a dash, and delivered the next blow with his left hand surreptitiously. Guillotine fought it off with difficulty, not expecting the goblin to change his hand for the blow. He flew a meter away and dropped his sword. The goblin without hesitation ran at him, with only one goal – to finish off his first victim. But Guillotine had already pulled the knife out of his sleeve and thrown it at the only unprotected place of the enemy-the face. The goblin stopped and screamed, and he clutched at his left eye, which started to bleed.

Egon ran to the chest and saw the box. He opened it. There are diamonds in there.

"Get him out of there and let's run," he shouted.

Ofir ran to help Guillotine. First, he ran to the goblin, who blocked the path of his friend with his huge bulk, and aimed at the back of his knee, knocking him down with the first blow. But the goblin swung him around with a massive hand, like a stuffed animal. At this moment, Homer managed to run past them, got to Guillotine, who was ready to finish off the goblin, grabbed him with one hand, and barely held him.

"Come on, we've got the box!"

“I'll kill him! The thirst for carnage has captured my mind! It's either him or me! Run yourself. I'll meet you at your grandmother's jewelry club after I cut this big guy down.”

"Guillotine, what the fuck are you talking about?" Ofir snapped.

Homer dropped his crossbow and gripped Guillotine with both hands.

"I'll kill him! Don’t stop me" he shouted.

“We're not murderers, calm down!”

Ofir ran up to the goblin and hit him in the side with all his strength with his morning star. The goblin screamed in pain and bent his knees to catch his breath. Then Ofir ran to Homer and helped him pull Guillotine away. They ran into the thicket and did not notice how the goblin picked up a crossbow and shot at them.

“He hit me right in the ass!” shouted Guillotine and fell.

“Damn it, he really got his ass,” Homer said.

“Right in the bull's-eye,” Ofir grinned.

“Get him into the thicket,” shouted Egon.

The friends ran in the thick of the forest without looking back. The goblin charged after them, breaking branches and tree trunks.

"What kind of killing machine is this?" Ofir shouted.

“Kill! Kill!” Goblin shouted after them.

“Fuck, this is not fucking normal at all!”

They ran with all their strength. Their faces were scratched by branches, and their feet crashed into the hummocks. Guillotine continued to bombard everyone with threats. The goblin was not far behind. After a while, everyone began to get tired, the running changed to a walk, the goblin began to suffocate, and the heavy iron armor became an unbearable burden for him. Friends turned to look at the goblin, who stopped in the moonlight, pulled the knife out of his eye with his left hand, and ran a bloody finger across his face, just below the eye, drawing a line.

"What does that mean?"

“That means he'll track us down until he will slaughter us.”

"Crazy as fuck psychopath!" Guillotine shouted to the goblin.

They walked for another half hour. Egon stopped and said:

“Pull out the arrow. I don't think we're in any danger now.”

"I'll be happy to do that," Ofir said.

Friends began to joke about Guillotine, until they realized that he was silent.

“Guillotine, why are you silent? Arrow in the ass or something?” Ofir laughed.

Homer looked at Guillotine.

"He's asleep."

"Or passed out."

“Or passed away.”

“To the distant lands of the dead...”

“Without ever pulling an arrow out of his ass, doomed to eternal torment...”

“Oh god!” Egon screamed, “just pull the arrow out of his ass already!”

Ofir did so.

“Look, this dumbass, didn’t awake.”

Homer and Ofir continued to carry Guillotine, while Egon led the way, looking at the map and showing the way back. An hour later, they emerged from the forest and stopped in front of green fields covered with a light layer of morning mist. The automatic irrigation system, powered by water crystals, were already working, the water under strong pressure was sprayed on the fields with the harvest, thereby creating the effect of a rain and a small rainbow next to it. The local farmers were still sleeping in their small log cabins, so it was safe to go straight ahead. As soon as the rain irrigation was over, Egon went to one of the sprinklers and read the creator's name, "Metyr." He smiled and moved on. Ten minutes later, those four were in front of the city-walls of the capital. It was huge stone men-made mountain, twenty meters tall. From above, the sleepy faces of the watchers could be seen, looking off into the distance at the endless forests and fields. The sun began to rise in the east, turning the walls in a bright yellow. Outside, the crows were already cawing and the sounds of machine tools in the factories could be heard.

"Let's go through the shift guard barracks, which are located in the wall not far from us," Egon said, "otherwise the guards at the main entrance will have questions about why our friend is passed out and why he's bleeding from his ass."

"And if we pass through the barracks for the shift guard, then no one will have any questions at all?"

“My friend works there, I'll arrange it.”

They walked a hundred meters along the wall. Egon knocked three times on the steel door handle. The guard's sleepy face appeared.

“Egon? What, for the early morning's hell, are you doing here?”

“Rufus, we need a little help from you. Take us into the city without being seen.”

The guard looked at the other three friends.

"And why is the one who's passed out bleeding from the back?"

"It's bleeding from his ass."

"Was he raped by someone?"

“Yes. It was a goblin.”

"He was raped by a goblin, huh?"

“Yes, by a goblin.”

"A small, one meter high or so, goblin?”

“It was a big one.”

“Really big one.”

“Big goblins are still little. How did he do it?"

“This one was two heads taller than him, had a big hammer, one-handed hoe and Homer`s crossbow.”

Rufus laughed so hard that he began to hiccup. When he came to his senses, he asked:

"What really happened?"

“Rufus, for holy inquisition fuck's sake, first of all, it’s true, second of all, stop fucking around and let us pass. My friend is losing blood and needs help, no matter how stupid he looks, he is still on the verge of dying. I won’t stay in debt; you know it better than anyone else.”

Rufus spat and said:

"Okay, but this time we can do without the money and the expensive wine, just tell me exactly what happened to you last night."

“Deal.”

"You're lucky the soldiers are still asleep."

They started to go inside as the guard stopped Homer and Ofir.

“What else, Rufus?”

“Why do these two stared at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that!”

“We are just tired,” Ofir said. “No offence.”

“All right, just plug his ass with something and let's go. I don’t want to wipe off the bloody footprints mixed with shit after you.”

"I won’t touch his ass."

"I won’t, too."

Egon walked over, tore open his sleeve, and rewound Guillotine’s wound.

“Any other requests?”

"No," Rufus said, grinning, and ushered them inside.

They walked along the creaking cot beds where the guards spun in their sleep, finishing their last moments before the next patrol. Rufus put his index finger to his mouth. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Here, this door leads to the exit," he whispered.

They reached the door. Rufus took out a bunch of twenty keys and began to search for a suitable one.

"What the hell do you need so many keys for?"

"That's what the regulations say, calm down."

"Don't you remember what key you need?"

"They're all the same here. Don't bother me."

“If they are all the same, then it turns out that every key fits the lock.”

“Oh, fuck off, man. Almost the same, are you ok with it?”

“Now yes, I am glad that I am under the protection of such a reliable state security system in my city.”

After several attempts, Rufus found the key he needed and opened the door. They went outside. The door closed.

"Why doesn’t Rufus have two front teeth?" Ofir asked.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me about it.”

"Why is his nose so long?"

“Ofir, stop asking complete bullshit. Am I the only one who wants this to end? So, you drag Guillotine to her, let her patch him up. I am going to work. Metyr gets furious when I'm late. Homer keeps the box. Take it to our place, and we'll meet you there tonight. Everything is clear?”

"Everything is clear," Homer said.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to carry Guillotine to 'her'? She can't stand him after the way he threatened her on their second date. She'd rather stick another arrow up his ass.”

"Just put that asshole in her house and say, «Egon leaves his fate in your hands», then close the door and run."

"You are a cruel man," Ofir said.

Somewhere two streets away, the bells of the local temple began to ring.

"What time is it now?"

“Well, since the bells are ringing, it's about seven in the morning.”

Egon cursed and went to work at a brisk pace.