Homer, Ofir, and Egon began to look at each other in dismay. The house was plunged into silence in which only the ticking of Roderick's wristwatch could be heard. The breaths of the friends synchronized with the beat of the second hand, as if the conductor and the musicians had found the perfect rhythm for the piece and fully understood each other without words. Egon stopped and said first:

“I got a tip from a rich kid that they're bringing him diamonds this morning to make a necklace for his girlfriend. That was all we knew.”

“Then pray he's telling the truth and you just robbed the wrong cart. Because if he lied to you and there were no diamonds, then all the law enforcement organizations of this city will soon come after you. And when they find you, what they write about torture in the newspapers will seem like child's play.”

“What are these?”

“These are not diamonds, my friend. These are modified VV crystals. I read about these in one book. And I never thought that someday these legends would appear before my own eyes.”

"What legend?"

“It is said that the inquisitors and preachers of this country don’t encrust diamonds and brilliants in their robes, but modified VV crystals, which, in the event of an attack on their master, will use vitavis to protect him from spells, arrows, etc. It was a technique the Metentises had used before, centuries ago, until most of them had been exterminated and the rest had gone on the run. The book that I got by chance just described how the Metentises used such crystals to defend themselves against enemy’s sneak attacks. Suppose that a metentis fights with another metentis. And behind the first one, a third metentis starts using some kind of spell. Now, according to what I've read, this crystal will use vitavis to create a spell which will defend its master.”

"So, you're saying that the inquisitors and preachers are metentises?"

“I didn't say that, I just said that they might be protected by Vitavis.”

"And they'll kill everyone to keep this a secret."

"Exactly. And they'll probably find you. So, I'm asking you to keep this money, but make a promise that if you’ll be caught, you won’t remember me who am I and what we did here.”

"We promise you," Homer said, " I swear on my life."

"Hell, in this country, nothing can be kept secret, everyone knows everything," Ofir said.

"You can," Roderick said. "You're just young and inexperienced. That's something you brought onto yourselves. Last question. Where's the fourth one?"

"The fourth one?"

“Egon, let's stop talking like we're idiots. You four stole them, where's the fourth one?”

“He was wounded by a goblin. We sent him to our man to have his wound stitched up.”

"A reliable man?"

"I would say ‘very reliable’," Ofir said.

They were just saying their goodbyes when they heard a honking outside.

"Who knows about this place?" Roderick asked, struggling to keep his composure.

“No one but us and that fourth one…”

"Could it be Guillotine?"

"If it was the Inquisitors, they wouldn't be honking at us.”

"That's right," Roderick said.

The four of them went out onto the terrace. A steam stagecoach was parked on the road in front of the gate. Brand-new. Black, impenetrable curtains hung from the windows.

“There is no sign of the Inquisition.”

“And there is no sign of the police.”

“Why doesn't anyone come out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Isn’t it, by any chance, the latest model?”

“Really Homer? This is what’s on your mind?”

"I just like stagecoaches."

The curtains of the stagecoach opened and the doors opened too. What everyone saw, shocked them.

"It's the worst thing I've ever seen," Roderick said. “Is this a new kind of torture?”

"I'm scared," Homer said.

"Holy fucking inquisition," Egon said.

They saw their friend Guillotine inside the stagecoach. His left arm was suspended from the ceiling by iron shackles, and he hung from it with his one free right leg. His right arm was chained by iron chains to his left leg, from which hung a huge lock. Guillotine was moaning, but everyone knew that he was one step away from screaming.

"Guillotine!" Egon shouted, woke up out of his stupor, and ran to save him. The others ran after him.

Then She came out of the front door of the stagecoach. Everyone stopped.

"Hey, guys!" she said.

"Melania! What the fuck are you made with him!?"

"You know, I was angry on you and Egon at first."

Roderick tried to slip away.

"Stand still, old man!" she shouted. "No one will leave this place!"

The old man stopped dead and didn't move.

"I think Guillotine is crying," Homer said.

"This is the first time I've seen him cry."

"Well," Melania continued. “I thought it was God's punishment that this cruel man was left on my doorstep. But then I realized,” she said, moving from the beginning of the stagecoach to the end of it, and back again, like a university professor discussing philosophical topics, “it's really a hand, a gift from fate. All my life I’ve been living in poverty, counting my pennies, saving and not even thinking about my future, but then I get Guillotine on my doorstep - a rich thief, murderer, psychopath and a very big moneybag, who, by the way, promised to kill me in the city square during our second date...”

Ofir turned to where Roderick was standing. The old man's eyes were bright with genuine fear, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Then Ofir turned to Homer, who whispered to him:

"It seems she didn't take the step you mentioned, didn't cross the line from hate to love."

And Melania kept talking:

“First of all, I thought to finish him off, according to your suggestion, Ofir, so he won’t suffer, but hatred is not the way out of it. And then I remembered your words, Egon: "I leave his fate in your hands."”

Egon saw Guillotine's left-hand wrist turned blue under the iron shackles, and he was holding on with the last of his strength, but after hearing this, his eyes were filled with even more pain and suffering, his hands clenched into a fist. Guillotine shook.

“And I decided to close my eyes to past grievances, because the past should remain in the past. Furthermore, you need to be responsible when you are trusted with the fate of a person, it's still not a piece of shit on the road, right? You need to take it seriously. But! Everything has its price, and the price for his treatment and my silence, cost him not only an arm and a leg, but also something else,” Melania continued with a little giggle.

Roderick moved closer to Ofir and asked, so softly that Ofir could barely hear him:

"Is she that very reliable man?"

Ofir said nothing, for he was speechless, and for the first time in his life he felt sorry for his friend.

“So, I stitched up two holes in his ass…”

"There was one," Egon said.

"She made the second one in my presence," Ofir said with difficulty.

“And I shackled his arm and leg as an advanced payment for my services, and of course I threw the key away, I don't remember where,” she laughed. “So now your Guillotine is healthy and confident in his own future, he knows that one beautiful evening or sunny day, the police won’t come to him and ironically cut off his head with a guillotine for all that he has done in his life. Of course, he won't be able to sit for a couple of days, but don't worry, now he's like silk, and if you look from this angle, you might think that he's frozen in a ballet dance. Hell, I even started to like him, he opened up to me from the other side… As they say, from hate to love, is just a step. Now, please, take your friend.”

Egon rushed to save Guillotine, he saw the key on the floor, opened the pads and freed his left hand. He fell on Egon's shoulders, still moaning and not saying anything, tears running down his skinny cheeks one by one, and small bruises formed under his eyes.

"I helped Guillotine get on the right track," Melania said, “taught him to thank the people who care about you, to be attentive, and also showed him that action is more eloquent than any words. I think I even exceeded the plan to some extent, but anyway, I leave it to you and wish him a speedy recovery.”

She looked Egon straight in the eyes, smiled, and said: "Don't expect the key to be lying on your doorstep when you get home." Then she straightened up, raised her head, and shouted, "Bye boys, I hope we'll meet again."

Egon walked over to Roderick and asked:

"Do you know how to break such thick chains, or how to remove the lock?"

"In the war, I managed to remove and open the lock with lockpick once."

"So, you have more experience than all of us put together."

"Let me go, boys," Roderick said plaintively. “Let's forget this day as if it never happened.”

"We'll forget it," Egon said, "as soon as you save my friend."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Now the five of them went back to the warehouse, gave Roderick a rusty lockpick that was lying under the dust, on a shelf. Ofir and Homer held Guillotine to make it easier for him to stand.

"Do it," Egon told him. “Guillotine, you just have to wait a little longer.”

Roderick began to try to open the lock, but the lockpick broke, Guillotine could not stand it, realizing the hopelessness of the situation, he shouted:

"That fucking bitch, and you - animals! Animals! You - animals! Why did you send me to her? I did everything for you bitches, I risked my life, I wish you'd killed me… I'll never be the same again... it feels like... I've been in hell... and I still can't get out of it… And what the fuck that was: “I leave his fate to you” You fucking sadist, what have I done to you that you hate me so much?"

"I was only joking when I suggested she finish you off, though" Ofir said. "I had no idea how it would turn out, I’m sorry."

Egon hugged Guillotine and said:

"Calm down, it's all over, you're alive... I don’t hate you, it was just a big mistake," he turned to the old man, " Roderick."

"Yes?"

"Do you live alone?"

"A-a-al ... with my wife and two little kids."

"Don't shit me."

"Okay, alone."

"Is there something you can use to open the lock?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest."

“Well, we don't have a choice. Ofir, Homer, raise Guillotine, let's drag him to Roderick's house. There's no point staying here. Homer, as soon as you put him on the bed, buy some whiskey or rum somewhere, preferably the stronger ones, better more.”

"Why don't you drag him to his own house?"

“Because his own house is about four hours away, just like any other house we have. And we're not dragging him across the city like this. And you live nearby, and there's hardly anyone on the road, and if there is, you have a rule in your district to keep mouth shut, right? There's no such rule in our district, but there are police, soldiers, and God forbid inquisitors who will start finding out where we're dragging him from, and then there will be problems.”

"Guillotine, what happened to you and Melania?"

Guillotine began to cry again and shouted through his tears:

"She stole all my money and bought herself a latest-model stagecoach! Now I'm poor! I don't have any money! My last ten years wasted!"

"How did she steal them?"

“She patched up my wounds, said I needed to be taken home. And when we came to my place, she robbed me and knocked me out, while I was passed out, she managed to buy a stagecoach, iron shackles and chains, chained me, then asked where you guy are, said that if I wouldn’t tell her, I would hang like that until my arm fell off. She tortured me, told me to keep quiet, it was a nightmare… I don't want to remember it anymore.”

"We won't leave you without money," Ofir said.

"Who's the old man?" Guillotine asked.

“This is Roderick – he's a gem appraiser.”

“How much do these gems cost? Are they expensive?” Guillotine asked, trying to calm himself.

Ofir, Egon, and Homer looked at Roderick, who had gone from being a calm, cold-blooded old man to a frightened child.

"A lot," he said, the first thing that came to mind.

“How much exactly? You're a fucking appraiser, aren't you, or are you trying to fuck us up?”

"Guillotine, it's not that simple," Egon interrupted. "We'll tell you all about it later. Now let’s go, come on."

"How much do they cost!?" he shouted. "Don't fucking tell me bitches that everything I've been through today is going down the drain."

Roderick looked at the others, startled, not knowing what to say.

“Old man, I'm not the one to be trifled with, I'm the one who knocks on the door at night to hang a tortured body from a nearby pole and then fucking burn down the whole house and all its inhabitants. So, tell me, how much are these fucking gems worth?” Guillotine continued to shout in the pose of a ballerina.

"They're worth a lot, Guillotine," Egon said. “600 gold per stone or more.”

Homer and Ofir made surprised faces. And Roderick suddenly realized that, apart from what had happened to him in the war, this was the worst day of his life.

They went out onto the road. There were no people around, only the creak of streetlights swinging in the wind and the barking of stray dogs echoed through the area. Ofir and Homer were carrying Guillotine in their arms. They struggled to move, their feet sinking into the mud. Roderick walked behind the others, moving slower and slower, hoping that in a few minutes he would be able to disappear into the thick fog.

Thunder rumbled in the sky with sharp clicks. The black clouds were lit up by bright flashes of lightning and disappeared into the blackness. The rain fell in a bloody spray on the ground, filling the pits on the road like empty wells. Homer felt completely soaked in a few minutes. He thought that it would be great if the blackness of this evening swallowed up not only this capital, but also all their unfinished businesses.

They wandered through this desolate, uninhabited area, surrounded by torrential rain and thunderbolts. They look like forgotten ruined kings seeking their last resting place before they died. Everyone was wet and scared, and their hands and teeth were shaking with cold and fear. Roderick was almost lagging behind them when Egon noticed it and told him to walk alongside them. As they drew closer, Egon said:

“Roderick, we won't hurt you, and we won't forget your help. We just have nowhere else to go right now. As soon as we free our friend and the rain stops, we'll leave, okay?”

"Yes, Egon, all right."

A few minutes later, they were in the district around which all the rumors and dark affairs are swirling. Here you can make custom-made forbidden weapons, buy VV crystals cheaply, as well as crossbows and exact copies of the black robes of the inquisitors.

They turned onto the first street, only a couple of meters away. There were lights everywhere in the stone houses, but when Egon looked around, he saw that no one was following them. They went inside the house number two. Roderick opened the door and let them in.

The dying candles scattered the murk inside. They were in the hallway. In the kitchen to the left of the corridor, there was a lot of food, bottles of spring water and other dining items. Behind a half-closed door in the far corner of the living room, there were tables, various precious stones, and a variety of tools to evaluate them. There was a bedroom right down the hall.

Homer and Ofir wanted to lay Guillotine on the bed, but he began to resist. Roderick understood everything and led the friends to the kitchen, took out a teapot and put a small fire crystal in its inner compartment, the water began to boil quickly, after ten seconds he poured boiling water into glasses filled with tea leaves.

Homer went to get the whiskey. And the poor and tortured old man went to his room and began to rummage and sort through something convulsively. From the room, the sounds of steel and keys began to reach the kitchen, and Egon heard papers falling from shelves, drawers moving, and a few minutes later he heard Roderick himself muttering, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. A few minutes later, the old man came out of the room with the new lockpicks in his hands, and a few minutes later released Guillotine. Then there was a knock on the door. A loud thud made Roderick jump, then he went to the door and let Homer back in.

“Here's the whiskey, I got these from a little shop across the street. The salesman said it will be the best we'd ever taste.”

Homer took another glass from the sideboard and filled it to the brim with whiskey, placing it in front of Guillotine. Outside, the rain was only getting heavier and the streets darker.

Guillotine took a small sip. Egon saw his friend begin to calm down. Roderick placed a candelabra in the center of the table and lit all the candles on it.

"Will you eat?" he asked.

"No," Egon said. "Feed Guillotine, we'll be off for a while. We need to get rid of the crystals."

"Who are you going to sell them to, if it's not a secret?

"To the Grandfather."

"The one with whom even thieves do not deal?"

"Yes, that one."

"You'd better bury those crystals."

Guillotine looked at Roderick with terrible, bloodshot eyes and asked in a gruff voice:

"Why is that, old man?"

"I'm just saying," Roderick said, "just thinking out loud."

"You'd better shut the fuck up."

"I've already figured that out."

Ofir smiled and said:

"Guillotine you better calm down."

"I'll calm down when I’ll hang this scum on a pole, up-side down, and then…"

"That's enough," Egon said. "You'll deal with her when we sell the crystals and it'll be over."

"We have diamonds, don’t we?"

"We have modified VV crystals."

"What the fuck are these?"

"The Metentises used them in ancient times."

"What are they doing here, and where are our diamonds?"

"Roderick, the three of us are going to leave now, and until we get back, help Guillotine fill a glass with whiskey and tell him what these gems are."

"Well, I guess you won't be back soon."

"We'll be back soon."

"No, you won't…"

"What time is it?" Egon asked.

Roderick looked at his wristwatch: "It's almost midnight."

"How far is it from here to the forbidden city?"

"Two hours, maybe three, if you’ll be lucky with the transport."

There's still plenty of time.

"I'll give you a tip, tell the guards, 'He'll be very happy to see us' or they won't let you in."

"Thanks."

Homer, Ofir, and Egon went out into the street. Torrential rain with its sharp and icy water needles cut into the mud and puddles, beat on the roofs of houses, resembling a hail of arrows at the siege of the city. The wind was bone-chilling. A greyhound ran past on the road. Its white fur was all soaked, loose and covered in mud. There was no fat at all, and they could see every rib. It ran past, not even paying attention to the three friends. Egon turned his head and saw at the end of the street a local prophet who had been expelled from the church several years ago. Long hair, ragged clothes, a wet beard, and a lean body. He raised his head and looked in their direction. A greyhound ran up to him. He leaned over and stroked it, without taking his eyes off the three young men. Then he disappeared with the dog.

"Creepy guy," Ofir said.

"And the only exile and alternative religion preacher left untouched by the Inquisition."

"He's not a metentis, the inquisitors don't care about locals like him."

"Have you forgotten that you can't preach another religion?"

"Then this question is for the police not for the inquisitors."

"A mysterious man."

"And grim."

Egon turned to them and said:

"Before we go to the Grandfather, I want to tell you something, listen carefully and don't interrupt."

They nodded their wet, dripping with rain, faces.

"Before we met, one of my guys came up to me. He said that during the night, someone stole diamonds from the inquisitors, which were being brought as a birthday present to one of them. There was no other carriage. That rich guy just pissed in my ears, and I took it all at face value. I told that guy to find out who stole those diamonds, and if he could find out, the Inquisition and the police would be even more so. It's too dangerous for us to be in the capital. As soon as we get rid of the crystals, I'll go to Metyr and tell him everything. We'll all get out of Agernox together and lay low."

"So, we've given up everything we've achieved in our entire lives?"

"Yes. What's the point if we get killed? More so, no one prevents you from taking your money with you."

Ofir looked at Homer, who said without hesitation:

"I'm with you to the end."

"You're so loyal, Homer, you make me want to cry. When were you planning to tell all this to Guillotine, Egon?" Ofir asked.

"I'll tell him tomorrow night."

"When will he have time to get ready?"

"He had enough for a day, and I didn't want Roderick to hear it."

"Fuck… Don't we have a choice? I don't think everything is that bad."

“There is always a choice. We will either continue to live in fear and pray that by some miracle we won't be found out, or we will simply disappear for a while or forever and start all over again. But before you choose the first option, I'll lay out our cards for you. The first card is the rich boy who cheated me. Big guys from the government will come out and ask him who he told about the diamonds, and he'll tell them about me. The second card is the coachman, who will indicate the number, and then big guys will catch you, because it is no secret to anyone in the industrial district that we always work together, as a group of four. And the third card is the Goblin, who, if he doesn't tell them anything about us, will at least find us and kill us.”

"If they find you, they won't have any direct proof that you did it."

“I'll tell you what will happen, okay? Most likely, a rich boy will give, for example, ten names, he won’t even have to be tortured. These ten people will all be killed by inquisition which don't give a shit who's really to blame, including me. Then they will think about which of the ten could rob them, and who has three other friends that the coachman told them about. The Inquisitors will send their dogs out on the streets, and if Roderick knows about the four people, who stole the gems - and he didn't even make any special inquiries about us just for a second - then inquisition will know for sure. Yes, the names didn't pop up on the streets, but they won't need them, it won't be difficult to put two and two. So then, Ofir, they will knock at your door, and at your door, Homer, they will also knock, and finally they will knock at Guillotine's door. And you will be tortured for ten months, and then you will be killed in some cell and no one will remember you. Although they may even decide to make a show or a visual flogging for the rest of the thieves, and you will be tied and set on fire. Maybe after that there will be stories and legends about our adventures, the newspapers will write loud headlines "The Fall of the underground empire of thieves" or something like that, everyone will know about us, and some thieves, maybe even will worship for us and raise us to the cult of their gods. But we won't give a shit about it from the high bell tower, because we'll be fucking dead by then. You, Ofir, when you will decide to stay here or run away, the main thing is not to forget that we didn’t rob a grannie on the street, but the Inquisition. And the Inquisition is a huge organization, cruel and powerful, which has grown so that it has its followers, spies and warriors not only in this country, but also in many others, with the exception of the one with which it, by the way, is at war, calling this event a "Holy War". And if they have enough balls to put pressure on our shadow government and start a war with a huge powerful country that refused to build up their fucking temple, then dealing with us is like dealing with a bedbug. There is no outcome in which we won’t get fucked, except that all the witnesses will die overnight, and preferably by tomorrow morning. Now, Ofir, tell me, which of the two options would you prefer?”

Ofir thought for a moment, then looked at Homer, but Homer had already made his choice and was looking back at him.

"Then this is the end. One mistake and the end…"

"This is not the end, this is a change of location, call it better so."

"Where will we go?"

"To Porhol land, we'll say we're refugees, and Metyr will help us."

"We must tell everything to Guillotine," Ofir said.

"Tomorrow, we'll tell him tomorrow, but for now, we need to go to the Grandfather."

"Shit."

They shook their heads, looked out into the gloom of the road littered with slush, took a deep breath, and moved on.