I had to say goodbye to Tush and Tina. The village carpenter had made a wooden house with several rooms for the little fluffies, comfortably located in a small grove on the outskirts of the village, away from curious children. The house was at my height, so I had to stand on my tiptoes to knock on the door.

The door opened, and Tush appeared casually on the threshold as if he had lived in this house all his life. His gaze showed pride in the house and in caring for his family.

"I came to say goodbye. Will you go with me or will you stay here?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

Tina was about to give birth, and someone needed to stay with her. Tush seemed happy to hit the road, but his gaze betrayed his concern for his wife. He honestly admitted:

"I would go with you, but I can't leave Tina alone at a time like this."

I nodded, understanding his responsibility for the fate of the unborn babies.

"Stay home and protect her peace," I said with a slight smile, knowing this was the right decision. Taking him in my arms, I pressed my little friend to my chest.

"We will see each other again, right?"

"Of course," I assured him. - "I want to see your charming babies."

Tina squeaked something and my translator disappeared into the house, throwing a farewell glance in my direction.

"I thought I wouldn't find you," a familiar voice rang out. Turning around, I saw Maleus standing behind me. As always, he seemed calm and focused, but a shadow of anxiety slipped into his eyes.

"Here, take these, you will need them," he said, holding out a long and heavy bundle.

I carefully took the bundle, feeling the weight and strength in its contents.

"These are swords," he opened them, revealing the contents. "From the first batch. Believe me, they are not bad."

The swords gleamed in the light as if they had just come off the anvil. I knew that each of them had been forged with the utmost attention to detail, with soul, like everything that came from the hands of Maleus. I did not argue. He was not just a blacksmith, he was a friend, and he was thinking about how to help me in the coming battle.

"Thank you," I said quietly, knowing that at this moment the words meant more than usual.

Once outside the village, I unfurled my wings and flew into the sky. It was a clear day, the air was cool, but the light of the sun's rays warmed my back. Visibility was excellent. From above, the village seemed like a small, quiet world, hidden between the hills. The trodden paths ran in different directions from it, like the threads of fate, but one of them stood out - it was wider than the others.

"My friends Tarnis, Lion, and his brother Yurik most likely headed along it to the city of Forbant," I thought, imagining them walking along this road, anticipating a meeting with their friends and relatives.

My thoughts returned to my intentions. I wanted to attack the castle in Forbant with determination and fury, quickly break through the guards, immobilize the soldiers, and enter the castle. All my energy was focused on one thing: find Cryonax and cut him into small pieces. A simple, decisive plan that seemed so easy to implement. If not for one "but".

Somewhere in the dungeons of the castle, Cryonax kept the forest nymph Dionela. I could not allow her to suffer. Her rescue became an integral part of my plan. And another disturbing thought crept into my head: among the soldiers, there could be the one who kidnapped children from the village. Someone had to know where the most dangerous enemy, Pyronax, had settled.

I realized that my safety was a matter of strength, agility, and stealth. None of the townspeople should know that I had wings and could fly. Rumors are insidious creatures, especially among those who know how to pick them up skillfully. One wrong step and the rumor of a flying man would spread throughout the land.

I sorted through my things and found a cloak with a hood. It was wide enough to hide my wings. I needed to disguise myself to look like an ordinary traveler. In Orkvalia, it is not worth attracting unnecessary attention - there are too many curious eyes here.

Another problem was my sword. The Righteous One, shining with a steely luster, looked luxurious, but it could attract unnecessary questions. In these parts, bronze swords were considered stronger than steel, because iron processing technologies had not yet been brought to perfection. High-quality steel was rare here, and swords made from it cost a lot of money. Anyone who saw the Righteous One might immediately decide that I was not an ordinary wanderer and start asking questions. But I certainly wasn’t going to explain where I got such a blade from.

I flew over villages, forests, fields, and meadows, enjoying the landscape that stretched out below me. Bright greenery covered all free space as if the earth had regained life after the lifeless, scorched landscape that I had seen for the first time. It was almost calming - green waves rolling over the hills, breathing freshness and life.

I saw the city of Forbant, which looked like a dark spot on the emerald green.

I noticed a caravan of three carts below me, slowly moving towards the city. A great opportunity to get to Forbant without attracting attention. Finding the nearest landing, I landed softly wrapped myself in a cloak, and walked out onto the road. Then, looking back several times, I walked along the road slowly. I walked so slowly that soon I heard the snorting of oxen behind me, and the wheels of the carts creaking on the old road. The caravan caught up with me.

On the first cart, on top of a haystack, sat an elderly gray-haired man. His eyes, sad and thoughtful, looked into emptiness, and his face was covered with deep wrinkles - as if imprints of time and hardship. I stepped to the side of the road to let the cart pass, but when it drew level with me, I couldn't resist asking: "Will you take me to the city?"

The old man waved his hand listlessly, not showing much interest, but allowing me to take any free seat. I climbed onto the last cart, lying down right on the hay. It turned out to be surprisingly soft and smelled of the freshness of the fields. Having laid down, I closed my eyes, giving myself a minute's respite - Forbant was already looming on the horizon. Lulled by the soft rocking of the cart and the monotonous movement, I imperceptibly fell asleep and slept through the entrance to the city...

I was awakened by the loud voices of the merchants. The old man, having tied up the oxen, froze in anticipation of buyers. I handed him a coin. He examined it and asked in an indifferent voice:

"Do you want to buy my hay?"

"This is the fare."

"That's the price of all the hay I brought to sell. My service is worth nothing."

"Keep the money, good man. Tell me where I can get something to eat?"

"Go straight through the square until you see a fat man carved out of wood with his mouth open. That's Tomtom's, they have decent food and a nice mead."

As I walked through Forbant Square in the direction the old man pointed, I couldn't shake off the memories that came flooding back to me along with the smells and sounds of the place. Every time my boots hit the cobblestones, images of the past came to mind.

Here, during the city fair, I bought soup from a street vendor - a simple dish, but its taste stayed with me. Warm, filling, like life itself. I didn't know then that my circumstances would soon change and I would be arrested.

However, the most painful memory was the slave market. Even then, I couldn't take my eyes off the horrible sight of not only creatures being sold for money but also ordinary people. They were put on display as merchandise, without the slightest respect for their lives and dignity.

That image still haunted me. It was here, in that place, that I first saw Tarnis, captive and ready to be sold. Without thinking, I freed him, not realizing that he would become not only grateful but also my faithful guide and comrade in those hard times.

Forbant was also the place where Tush met Tina, we bought her along with her friends and sister. The meeting of the little fluffies seemed like something ordinary against the background of the city noise, but I saw how a spark flared between them. They found in each other, although not immediately, what they had been looking for all their lives.

And finally, here, in this city, I was arrested. The arrest was sudden, but there was an ironic symbolism in it - in the city where I had freed others, I was chained.

All these memories swirled in my head as I walked towards Tomtom's tavern. The streets were as noisy as they had been then, but now I was a different person. Perhaps the city itself had changed, but one thing remained unchanged - the shadows of the past continued to follow me, accompanying me at every step.

Since the last time I was here, the number of soldiers had increased many times over. I came across them literally at every step. Their impudent, laughing faces, filled with suspicion, aroused in me a strong disgust. These people reminded me of hyenas - merciless, ready to pounce on their prey at any moment, just waiting for the right moment. Their glances searched passers-by as if they were already guilty of something. Groups and single patrols stood at every corner, their sullen figures watching the proceedings with a constant eye.

Every glance from them seemed like a test to me. I felt that if I slowed down or showed the slightest hesitation, I might be arrested. Anxiety grew in my soul: would I be able to reach the tavern without trouble? Or would they put chains on me again?

But as soon as I crossed the threshold of the tavern, something inside me relaxed a little. The tavern had a familiar and noisy atmosphere. There were many more people, merchants, artisans, and travelers here than those soldiers I hated. Everything around was seething with life. Loud shouts were heard, some were laughing, others were arguing, and regulars were pushing tables together, discussing deals. Servants bustled about carrying food and drinks, weaving through the crowds like experienced dancers.

The smells were thick and rich, carrying the aromas of roast meat, fresh bread, strong drink, and the furs worn by travelers. The place had a rhythm of life, noise, and chaos, but also a strange calm, as if in all the hustle and bustle no one was paying attention to what was happening outside. Fortunately, there was no smell of tobacco smoke - the locals did not know what smoking was. This added a special freshness to the atmosphere, despite everything else that filled the air.

The tavern was, as always, a place for meeting, resting, and bargaining - no matter that the atmosphere outside was tense and oppressive.

I barely found a free seat - the tavern was packed to capacity. People were sitting at every table, the smell of food hung around, and laughter and shouts merged into an indistinct hum. To say "found" would be a clear exaggeration. They called out to me:

"Oris! Come to us!"

The voice was familiar, and when I turned my head, I saw people I had not expected to meet at all. Lion and Yurik, two brothers, were sitting at a large table set with half-empty plates of roast meat, bread, and jugs of mead. Their faces were flushed, and it was clear from how slowly they moved that they were drunk.

I squeezed my way to the table, swept the crumbs off the bench with the hem of my cloak, and sat down next to them. Taking a golden glass in my hands, I filled it from the nearest jug and raised it to my lips. The drink was strong but warm. Looking at them, I decided to clarify the situation:

"What are we celebrating?" I asked.

But my words seemed to go unnoticed. Lyon, looking at me with a cloudy gaze, gritted his teeth, his face distorted by a grimace as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. Yurik, the youngest of the brothers, sat with his gaze fixed on the floor, and his eyes were shining with tears. Something was wrong here. The atmosphere at their table was in sharp contrast to the noisy and joyful bustle around. I felt that they were drinking not for fun, but because of some deep sadness or anxiety.

"Guys, why are you here?" - my voice became quieter, full of suspicion and concern.

They both fell silent, and for a moment it seemed to me that they did not want to answer. The silence between us hung like a heavy blanket, and I knew that something serious had happened.

"We don't have a home anymore," Lyon said gloomily, lowering his head. - "We lost all our relatives and friends."

Everything inside me went cold. The thought of Uliya, my girlfriend, pierced me like a dagger. I jumped up, almost knocking over the glass.

"What's wrong with Uliya?" - my voice broke into a scream, and I immediately felt the condemning glances of the tavern patrons on me. An inconspicuous man at the next table shook his finger at me as if to say, don't make noise, boy, you're not at home.

Yurik, the youngest of the brothers, suddenly began to cry silently, smearing tears down his cheeks. This only increased my anxiety. I turned back to Lyon, who was hunched over as if the world had collapsed on his shoulders.

"Ulia?" he asked, shaking himself, as if emerging from the darkness of his thoughts. - "I don't know. Maybe she survived... Or maybe she died, like the others."

He spoke coldly as if trying to distance himself from the pain, but every breath he took was bitter. I could barely stand on my feet, thoughts rushing through my head: images of our forest village, of Ulia, remaining there safe... as it seemed to me then.

"Lyon, what happened?" - his voice became quieter, but I could no longer hide the trembling in it.

"We were returning home, having seen Tarnis off to the city," Lyon began, sighing heavily. — "We went to buy some clothes since we had money. Here in the city, we met one of our fellow villagers. She told us about the misfortune. The dragon swooped in at night and burned down all the houses... Some managed to escape, but many were burned alive."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The words seemed to pierce my soul, each one like a hammer blow on an anvil.

"Many returned a week later when people recovered and began to rebuild the village. But the dragon flew in again... It destroyed everything. People realized that they could not live there any longer. Those who survived abandoned the village, scattering in all directions."

I could not believe what I was hearing. The village that had sheltered me, the place where I had met Uliya, had burned to the ground, and now in its place, there were only ashes and ruins. My hands clenched into fists. A feeling of helplessness overcame me, but what was worse was the unknown. What had happened to Uliya? Was she alive? These thoughts did not give me any rest.

"So here we sit, drowning our sorrows in drink," Lyon finished, his gaze turning glassy.

I drained the glass silently, feeling the cold of loss, another reason to destroy these flying creatures. Maybe Ulia was alive and well, but where should I look for her? Questions that had no answers yet. There was no doubt that the dragons would fall under my sword. But who would restore the burned houses? Who would bring back to life those who suffered innocently? Why burn peaceful houses? The inhabitants were not threatening anyone.

No matter how great the grief is, one should not lose one's head. I glanced at Lyon, trying not to show my anxiety.

"Are you staying somewhere? Is there room for one more?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

Lion nodded slowly, his eyes still shining from the drink.

"We'll find it," he croaked.

I hugged Yurik, who was barely able to stand on his feet, his face still wet from tears, and led him by the arm. Lion walked ahead, staggering but confidently heading towards the place where they were staying. We reached an old inn where travelers could rent a room for the night. Nothing fancy - everything here reminded me of simplicity and practicality. General comfort, narrow rooms, creaky floors, and old furniture, worn out by time.

Entering inside, I smelled the old wood and the fireplace, which barely gave off heat. Lion led us into a room where there was a wide bed and a basin of hot water. Nothing extra. Yurik sat on the bed, clutching his head in his hands, and Lion silently lay down next to him, covering himself with an old blanket.

"We need to sleep it off," I said, looking around. "And tomorrow morning we'll discuss our plans for the future."

I had an opportunity to use my brothers again. If they agreed to help me. And I did not doubt that they would.

Yuryk fell asleep sitting up, his head hanging on his chest, and Lyon was snoring in bed. I didn't want to lie down next to them at all. Maybe it was because of the lulling ride on the cart in the haystack. Or maybe the news I heard from my brothers had excited me so much that I couldn't even think about sleep.

Sitting in the semi-darkness of the old room, I began to think about what to do next. It seemed to me that I had two paths. Rush to the castle, destroying everyone in my path? That would look like ordinary bravado, without a thorough plan. Or start with reconnaissance? Find out how the rooms are laid out, how many soldiers guard the castle, and where the dragon is resting. This Pyronax - is he outside of his own free will or is he let out? And who opens the doors for him?

The answers to these questions could probably be found. But I knew that every action I took had to be thought out. What if the survivors were on guard and covered up all traces? What if the road the children were taken along was lost? Finding Pyronax's lair - that was the hardest task.

I sat and thought, going over different options in my head, and writing down new spells in my notebook. It's funny that at first when I found myself in Orkvalia, I thought that there was no writing there. I didn't see any books at Nyx's, there weren't any scribes at the fairs, and no one was selling paper or pens. Everything seemed so oral as if words were the only value.

But, as it turned out, writing existed - fancy signs that merchants used to write out promissory notes, list goods, and other business records. These symbols looked so foreign to me that at first, I did not understand their meaning. However, they did not concern magic, and I did not hesitate to write down my spells in a language familiar to me.

And so, while I began to compile my book of spells, a thought came to me: wouldn’t it be better to hide the notebook from prying eyes? After all, if someone found it, what would stop them from using my developments? But soon I realized that my fear was in vain. No one here knew the Latin alphabet, let alone understood the complex formulas of magic. Even after reading my notes, they would not be able to understand their meaning.

With this realization, I no longer hid. The notebook was in my backpack, and if someone tried to steal it, they would not find anything useful. How naive I was.

While I was taking notes, my thoughts began to form one clear picture:

"If the children were taken away by soldiers, then one of them probably knows in which direction the detachments with the captives were going. If we manage to find such a witness, he can tell us something important: a description of the area, some characteristic signs - a river, mountains, an entrance to a cave.

I wonder if Cryonax had ever visited his brother Pyronax. If so, that would be a good lead. However, that was a last resort plan, in case nothing could be learned from the soldiers.

I thought I had decided on that. Now there was the matter of the brothers. Turning them into a centaur again made no sense. They had atoned for their guilt and seemed ready to help me. I had several steel swords at my disposal, a gift from Maleus. I could arm them. But that was not enough. I wanted to give them something more, not just swords, but at least the beginnings of magical skills." Remembering Oceania's words about how she saw me as a mentor for young mages, I thought: why not? Of course, I won't be able to teach them much, but I can certainly pass on some basics, enough for them to become useful assistants.

If Lyon and Yurik agree, I will have a small detachment. Warriors with magical skills could be a serious help in the upcoming battles, and the brothers were ready to go with me to the end.

Leaving the brothers to sleep, I went out into the street. The number of residents in the square had noticeably decreased, but the doors to Tomtom's tavern remained open as if attracting those who were not yet asleep. Entering inside, I noticed four soldiers sitting by the wall. They were eating something, and on the table in front of them was an empty jug, which the soldiers were examining with obvious regret.

"Want a drink?" I didn't waste any time sitting down at the table with them. "I'm a friend of your captain Trot's. Today is a good day, but I don't feel like drinking alone. Would you like to join me?"

I looked closely at the soldiers. Two of them were about my age, the third was a little older, and the fourth, judging by everything, was a veteran. The young soldiers were obviously happy to accept the offer of free drinks, and the third looked at me with slight suspicion, but he did not refuse the treat either. The veteran, however, aroused uneasy feelings in me. It seemed to me that we had met before. However, it turned out that he, too, was not against drinking at someone else's expense.

A dish of half-raw beef was quickly brought to us, and the soldiers pounced on the food greedily, as if they had not eaten for weeks. The jugs were being emptied as if the dragon's servants were putting out a fire or trying to revive the parched land. I watched my companions getting drunk, their tongues starting to slur, and their conversations devolving into squabbles and fights among themselves, nothing useful to me. But I wasn't discouraged. It was time to steer the conversation in the right direction.

"Listen, guys, is it hard to take the kids to Pyronax's lair?" I casually asked.

The young soldiers giggled, not understanding the seriousness of the question, but the veteran, although he could barely move his tongue, still answered:

"We weren't called up for such service. I'm always in the city, guarding the castle."

"Guarding from whom?" I grinned. "Dragons are invincible, aren't they? Or are they?"

The veteran grinned drunkenly, and I noticed that his mouth was full of sharp, almost bestial white teeth. It was clear that if one of these guys were to bite, the wound would be serious.

"Yes, invincible. But there will always be fools who want to test that," he croaked, exhaling the smell of cheap booze. "Or those who decide to say something offensive to our master."

His answer gave me some food for thought, but it still didn't get me anywhere near what I was looking for. Before I could think about it, the veteran suddenly leaned over and asked with suspicion in his voice:

"If Captain Trot is your friend, why don't you ask him about it yourself?"

In response, I shrugged and, without thinking, blurted out the first thing that came to mind, although it turned out to be quite successful:

"That's because I haven't met him in a long time. I don't know where he might be. If I did, I'd be drinking with him, not with you."

The soldier chuckled hoarsely, so much so that he began to choke on a coughing fit. When he finally managed to get it under control, his voice was quieter, as if he wanted to share a secret with me:

"Those who take human children are never seen again. Maybe that's why you never meet your captain?"

"Maybe," I nodded, playing along with his suggestion. But inside me, darker thoughts were stirring: if it was true, as the veteran said, then finding Pyronax's lair would be almost impossible. No one would be able to tell where it was, which meant finding it would be extremely difficult.

But it seemed like a chance to make friends with the castle guard, and I decided not to miss it.

"Listen, friend," I began, lowering my voice to add intimacy. "You don't get paid much for such a responsible and important job, do you?"

The veteran narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down, as if assessing my worth, before curling his lips into a disdainful smirk.

"Want to join the squad?" he snorted sarcastically. "They don't take people like you to guard the lord."

His words sounded arrogant, but I could see that there was something more behind the facade. Perhaps a sense of disappointment? Or had he long ago resigned himself to the fact that his work was undervalued, and wine helped him forget? Either way, this was a chance, and I was going to take it.

"Not to the squad," I grinned, taking a sip from the cup. "I just thought maybe it would be worth investing a few coins in the right cause. I'm just going on a roll with the luck anyway. And maybe you'll get something more than just a few kopecks for your service. I heard that the gentleman has a beautiful furnishing in his house. I'd like to take a look at it, at least for a moment. Can you give me a little tour? And I'll throw you some coins for it. Just you! You won't have to share with these. Think about how much food and drink you could buy and eat it all yourself." My offer stupefied the soldier's already drunken mind. He looked at his fellow soldiers, who, drowsy from the abundant treat, were sleeping right at the table, and extended his clawed hand towards me. I resolutely moved away from the table.

"No," I said. "Not now. In the morning, you'll forget all about our conversation. And I'm not going to lose my coins." His eyes narrowed, but greed overcame his resentment. He stood up, slightly unsteadily, and headed for the exit.

"Then we'll go now," he muttered.

I had to pay the innkeeper. As I approached the bar, I glanced at the owner of the establishment, Tomtom, who was silently accepting the coins, not taking his eyes off me. Finally, he muttered under his breath, but so that I could hear:

"I don't know what you're planning, boy, but you should stay away from this soldier. He's famous for his cunning, but he's also no less mean."

I left the inn, ready for any development. In my hand, I held the Righteous One, disguised as an ordinary shepherd's crook, which made me less suspicious. To make it more convincing, I limped on one leg, giving myself the appearance of a person incapable of abrupt action. Night had already fallen on the city, and the streets, deserted by this hour, were dimly lit in some places by oil lamps.

My new acquaintance, an old soldier, was already waiting for me, but not alone. He stood surrounded by ten sober soldiers. Seeing me, he beckoned to me with a gesture, and his comrades, showing no particular interest, moved aside.

"Tomorrow the master will not be in the castle," he began, looking at me with cunning, penetrating eyes. - "You will go to the gate and ask to call Nordan, that is, me," - he hesitated for a moment. - "I will come out and give you a short tour. But so that I can be sure that you will not deceive me," - he extended his hand to me, - "you must give me some money."

I had no other choice, and I handed him one small coin. Nordan looked at it with disdain, his look saying that he expected more.

"If you're going to pay me so little," he said mockingly, "then don't expect a tour."

I added another coin, trying to remain calm.

"I don't have any more money on me, but I'll take more tomorrow," I said, trying to look honest.

Nordan nodded as if in agreement, but his eyes glittered with cunning.

"Remember this," he added as a parting word. "The more the sum, the more detailed the tour will be. I'll show you not only the upper chambers but also the castle prison."

The castle prison! The offer was extremely tempting. Perhaps it was there, in the dungeon, that the dragon Cryonax was hiding Dionela.

Dionela. [https://i.imgur.com/jr1HVVX.png]