He ran straight through the trees.

“Stone Storm.” (rank 4)

Small stones rose from the ground and, with lightning speed, cut down everything in their way, flew towards the inquisitor. Branches, bushes, and small trees were scattered into splinters. The Inquisitor looked around and jumped behind a massive oak tree at the very last second, avoiding the certain death. After a while, he looked out, smiled even though no one saw it, and when he realized that the spell was over, he continued his pursuit, shouting:

"Stop running away from me, I just want to talk, buddy, what’s wrong with you?"

The Metentis ran out into the glade. He thought there was enough space for a massive attack:

“Walls of Death.” (rank 4)

On the right and left sides of the inquisitor, two clay walls rose out of the ground and collided with each other at the same moment.

“Wow!” shouted the inquisitor in a high voice, “you almost got me.”

He didn't bother answering, just whispered the following sentence: “Mass burial.” (rank 4)

The ground softened under the dodging inquisitor's feet. Roots flew out of the very depths, grabbed him by the hands and feet, and dragged him into the abyss itself.

“Liquid poison.” (rank 1)

A shell of dark poison appeared around the inquisitor and split the enemy attack into molecules. After that, he climbed out of the soft ground and shouted:

"You have modified attacks. The Metentis of earth don’t know how to use the tree element. You're a Formit, aren’t you?”

“Earth Pedestal.” (rank 3)… “Burial.” (Rank 2)

A springboard appeared under the inquisitor's feet and immediately hurled him into the air.

“Wow!” he shouted. "Seems, you want to collide me with a rock that will fall from the sky."

“Air grid.” (rank 3)

Huge roots burst out of the ground and captured the inquisitor again. After which, the metentis shouted: "Modification", and they turned into a full-fledged, solid wood and the victim was no longer able to repel this attack.

“Coffin.” (rank 1)

The inquisitor, captured by the roots and trapped in a huge coffin, was falling down.

"Holy-moly," he shouted, clearly enjoying the battle.

“Modified Walls of Death.” (Rank 4)

At the same moment, the massive clay walls emerged from the ground again, but this time with sharp spikes all over it and collided one against the other. There was an explosion. Wood chips and pieces of clay were scattered in all directions, an earthquake wave passed through the earth, a strong wind rose and spread the dust after the collision around the area. He looked closer. The Inquisitor stood as if nothing had happened, brushing the dust off his black robe.

"Let's make a deal, buddy!" He shouted to the metentis of earth. “You tell me where your Formit friends are hiding, and I'll help you join the Holy Inquisition, and we'll continue to fight every training day on our training battlegrounds!"

The Metentis continued to ignore him. He used one spell after another, and the inquisitor only dodged, not using a single spell to counterattack.

“Slaughterhouse.” (rank 4)

Spikes began to appear from the ground, something like long spears, and flew straight at the inquisitor. He leaped back and dodged them until one of the spears grazed his robe near the shoulder, and the metentis saw the numbers 4,4.

“I had no chances since the battle started, fuck,” he thought, and was about to run when he heard:

“And you have a lot of VV, since you use rank 4 spells so often. But jokes aside!” The inquisitor clasped his hands in a prayer pose, “Pseudo darkness.” (rank 2)

A black dome formed around the inquisitor, deflecting any attack.

“Border extension.” (rank 3)

In a split second, the dome swallowed up the earth metentis and a few more kilometers around him. There was only utter darkness and an emptiness that seemed endless. He couldn't see anything. The sounds of the wind had also stopped.

“Torture chamber.” (rank 4)

Chains began to appear around the metentis, grabbing at his arms and legs. Then, from somewhere in the dark void below, a steel cage appeared.

“Modified absolute protection.” (rank 4)

In one second, a clay ball formed around the metentis, which did not allow him to be captured. Then he heard the voice of the inquisitor, which spread throughout the entirety of the dome of darkness.

“You're not my match, buddy… And you're at your limits.”

Suddenly, the chains broke through the "Absolute Protection", grabbed the metentis by the hands and feet and put him in a cage. Then inquisitor emerged from the darkness, still masked and still wearing a black robe with a red glowing sign. He looked at him with his bloody eyes and saw fear.

"You're going to tell me everything," he said. “Hell of the lower world.” (rank 4)

Needles began to protrude from the steel cage, piercing the metentis' flesh in non-lethal places. Inhuman screams resounded through the darkness.

***

Homer moved along the deserted street. Small wooden warehouses surrounded it on all sides of the street. Due to the high humidity, a light fog covered the road. The air was heavy. He reached into the inside pocket of his raincoat, making sure the box was still there. Gray clouds covered the entire area within sight, and only a small patch of sunlight illuminated a small section of the wall a few kilometers away.

Behind him, Homer heard someone running, small feet moving in the mud. He turned and saw one of Egon's runners. The boy was wearing a torn, dirty shirt, and his face, as well as his shirt, was covered with dried pieces of dirt and clay. His eyes, though, were still shining a bright green. Homer thought that even when the body gets dirty, the soul remains clean. He smiled.

The boy stopped in front of him, put his hands on his knees, and began to catch his breath.

"How are you?" Homer asked. "Everything okay?"

“The keeper asked you not to leave the warehouse, he will be there soon.”

"Will be soon? He's at work as per my knowledge."

"I did as I was told."

"Hey, kid," Homer said, "can you do something for me?"

"For a silver, anything!"

Homer fumbled in his pockets. He handed him a coin.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"I'll give you my last one."

“Thank you! What is required of me?”

“Get us a gem appraiser. Tell him to come as soon as possible.”

“I have one who lives not far from here.”

"Talkative?"

"You'll find death more talkative than him."

“You've intrigued me, lead him here. Tell him we’ll use coin to make his time worthy.”

"Yes, sir!"

The boy spat and ran north, toward a small street in an industrial district where, as everyone except for the inquisitors and the police know, the local hard workers take on any jobs. Homer knew that this was a huge commune, where everyone knew each other, and if someone spoke out or broke this great rule of "silence, as if nothing was happening", everyone would immediately know about it. Everyone in this secret commune knows the value of words and the value of information, and fights for their reputation.

Homer reached the right place. A small warehouse, its planks blackened and its foundation skewed to the left, on one of the walls was a sign reading «Forty-three Workers' Street». He entered a small yard, took out a key, opened the lock, and went inside. Everything was damp, dirty, and a huge layer of dust was flying in the small rays of light that filtered through the cracks. He went into the back room and pushed open the wardrobe. There was a trapdoor on the floor. He opened it and went down the stairs to the cellar, where was much colder than outside. A few rats scurried across the floor, but he paid them no attention. On the right side, by the wall, were hidden chests filled with gold. He went all the way to the end and put down the box and the empty compartment. He went upstairs, slid the wardrobe back onto the hatch, went outside, and started to wait for Egon in the yard.

Half an hour later Ofir came.

"I thought you'd gone to bed."

“Near my house, a guy came up to me and said that Egon was urgently waiting for me here.”

“Well, the host has yet to show up.”

“I can see that.”

“How's Guillotine?”

“It's hard to say.”

"What do you mean?"

“She shoved a second arrow up his ass and was extremely offended by what we did.”

“So that's it. Maybe we should have sent him to someone else.”

“If there was an alternative, I'm sure Egon would have used it. We don't have anyone who can help us get stitches and keep quiet. Besides, there's some chemistry between them, don't you think?”

“I’m not sure. I think they hate each other.”

“From love to hate is just a small, tiny step, as well as from hate to love. I'm sure that when I left, she cried and helped Guillotine, and tonight he will come to us in a huge stagecoach all cheerful, not only because he no longer has any pain, but also because he has a girlfriend again.”

"Are you so sure of that?"

“Trust me. I'm great at arts of love! Besides, it was secretly hidden in the way she looked at him.”

“I hope you're right. I think Guillotine needs a healthy relationship more than any of us. Maybe he'll be calmer, more friendly.”

“Exactly! And we won’t call him Guillotine, but "Sewing Needle"!

“Sounds great.”

Homer looked toward the road and saw the faint yellow light of a street lamp passing through the fog, and a man appeared in it. After a moment, he realized that it was Egon, who was not just walking fast, but rather running.

Egon ran into the warehouse yard, where Ofir and Homer were enjoying the peace and quiet with a pointless conversation to kill some time.

"You ran?" Ofir decided to clarify.

"Yes," said Egon, out of breath.

“Have you decided to become an athlete so that you can get away from the overgrown goblins faster next time?”

“Very funny, but no. Metyr, the bastard, messed up the dosage.”

“The dosage of what, Egon?”

“It's a long story.”

“And I'm in no hurry.”

"Egon," Homer began, “this may be just a rumor, and it's probably not true…”

“Keep it short, Homer.”

“Have you really burst into the square, where the metentises were burned, with the flag of Porhol land, then called for a revolution, beat several police officers, and gave one shit in the face, after which you were caught by the inquisitors, sent to prison and quartered under torture in the most horrible way?”

“Yes, that's true, and now you're talking to my ghost. What's the fuck, Homer? Who told you it?”

“Well, it was written in the newspaper.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Do you have this newspaper?”

“No.”

“Was there my face with a name there?”

"There was no face, only a name – Egon. I thought you were the one they had in mind, since the newspaper also claimed that you were trying to save the guard Rufus who helped us this morning.”

"We'll save it for later," Egon said while doing some exercises.

"Would you mind to stop already?" Ofir asked.

"I would, but physically can’t. Metyr pumped me with adrenaline and now I'm like a new machine in a factory, working non-stop and in full force. Anyway, are the diamonds here?”

“Yes.”

"We should call the gem appraiser."

"I asked your boy you’ve sent to me to lead one here, a special one, who aren’t too talkative.”

Ten minutes later, the appraiser came, led by the boy. It was an old man, no less than seventy-five years old. Dressed in good clothes, well-groomed. He was wearing an expensive wristwatch. Ofir threw the boy one silver coin and he ran away.

"Come in," Homer said, "please."

The old man walked slowly into the warehouse. He shook hands with each of them. Egon noticed that despite his age, the old man was in excellent physical shape.

“How can I call you?” Asked Egon and did a few squats.

“Roderick,” the old man replied.

“My name is Egon, this is Ofir and Homer.”

Roderick made a polite bow.

"I was wondering," Roderick began, "if by any chance you were the guy who beat up the inquisitors in the square today?"

“He was killed, they're all over the newspapers now.”

“As you get older, you stop believing what you read in the newspapers. As a rule, the truth is either absolutely opposite, or somewhere in between. So, I'm interested.”

"I think there are some lies," Egon said.

"As I thought so. Okay, get to the business."

"Yes, please go inside."

Egon ran into the warehouse first, Ofir, Homer and Roderick followed him, went into a small room, where Egon was already walking from one wall to another. Roderick cleared his throat.

"It's been a while since you've cleaned up," he said.

“It's true. Homer, go get the diamonds.”

Homer left the small room, turned left, pushed the wardrobe back, went back to the basement, took the box, went upstairs, closed the wardrobe, put the box on the table, opened it. Roderick looked at the diamonds, then looked at everyone in the room.

“Gentlemen, these are not even close to diamonds. I'll tell you this, even without an assessment.”

"Then what is it?"

"Your name, Ofir, is it?"

“Yes.”

"Ofir, have you ever seen diamonds?"

“No.”

"And you, Homer and Egon?"

“No.”

“No.”

“Diamonds are as transparent as glass. And these are blue, like crystals…”

Roderick put a hand to his chin and thought.

"Can you tell me what is it and how much it costs?"

“Okay, but before I do that, tell me, are you by any chance the guys that robbed the inquisitors and that everyone in this city is looking for?”

"Maybe."

“There's a bounty on your head, and the bounty is such that my great-grandchildren could live lavishly in the richest district.”

"It's not like you will divulge private information."

“Not mine. I'm saying that the fee for my services will be 200 gold coins.”

“200 gold?!”

“That's right.”

"Let's go out," Egon said, looking at his friends.

The friends came out of the warehouse and began to talk quietly.

“If these gems belong to the Inquisition, they can sell for more than 200 gold pieces on the black market.”

"And on the black market, they can rat on us in to the first cop or inquisitor they see, and then they'll burn us at the stake, and the great-grandchildren of the one who will rat on us will be able to live without lavishly."

“So, it will be necessary to go to the "Grandfather".”

“To "Grandfather"?”

“To "Grandfather".”

“The "Grandfather" I'm thinking of?”

“Yes, to the same "Grandfather" who knows everything, tells his stupid stories, who is old and grumpy.”

“You also forgot that this is also the "Grandfather" who tries to fuck everyone up or intimidate them.”

"But he also hates the inquisitors and the police."

"I don't like the idea."

“We'll ask him for 600 gold coins, no matter what price Roderick estimates them at. And then we'll trade up to 300 gold, but we'll still be with profit and will forget about it the next morning.”

“Grandfather is too smart-ass, you can't fuck him up.”

“Yes, "Grandfather" will probably fuck us up.”

"Let’s bury the diamonds or whatever they are in the ground and forget about them forever."

“I'll tell you what, if we send Roderick off with nothing now, we'll be looking around for the rest of our lives. We'll pay him anyway. And he gave us a very intelligent hint about it.”

“Maybe we just kill him?”

“Ofir, you’re not like Guillotine, are you?”

“I’m definitely not like him.”

“Stop trying to murder others, then. We will not kill anyone, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“That's agreed on then. Homer, go and get 250 gold. Everything will be fine.”

“He said 200.”

“Homer...”

“Got it.”

"Egon," Homer said, “let's just evaluate these diamonds and bury them.”

"What's the point? We have already done everything, whether we sell them or not - the future outcome won’t change."

They went back to the warehouse. Ofir and Egon entered the room where Roderick was waiting. He sat in a dusty room, lit by a small beam of light, like an ancient guardian of the place. He did not move, did not look back, he waited humbly, cold-blooded, calculative, it was immediately clear that this man had experienced a lot in his life and nothing could confuse or frighten him.

"All right, deal" Egon said. “Homer will bring you the money now.”

Roderick nodded, took out an object that looked like a little monocular, and began to examine it. Homer came into the room with two bags in his hands. There are 200 gold pieces in one bag and 50 in the other. Egon waved his head at him. Homer placed a bag of 200 gold pieces next to Roderick, and kept another one with him for the time being.

"Holy shit," Roderick said softly.

He looked up from his microscope and examined all three of them.

"What happened?"

The old man's hands began to shake, his breathing quickened, but he kept his composure. Taking a deep breath, he stared nervously at the wall for about a minute, then asked for water. Egon took a canteen of water from his belt pouch.

"Please," he said.

Roderick took a few long sips and emptied the canteen. Egon nodded to Homer, who put another 50 gold pieces on the table.

“I'm going to ask you two questions about our security. Answer honestly. And leave the money to yourselves, after just forget about our meeting and that I was here, or even better, forget the road to me forever. The questions are: what were you thinking when you stole it? And how did you know about it?”