Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair. To hide his nervousness, he changed his posture, leaning forward slightly and crossing his legs. Lord Rodrik watched the guest intently.

By appearance, he’s a true northerner, the Lord thought.

“I’ve killed monsters,” Alex said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Essences and ingredients,” Lord Rodrik nodded.

Alex also nodded, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

Ogner returned, and shortly after a servant entered with a wooden tray. He poured thick, steaming tea into cups.

Alex took a sip, and the hot taste of thyme warmed his throat.

“Tell me, Sir, could you tell me your family name?” Lord Rodrik inquired.

“Forgive me…” Alex hesitated. “The vows... far from home... I’m not allowed…”

Rodrik exchanged glances with Ogner. Like all knights, they had to respect vows, oaths, and promises. At least, that was how it worked in knightly romances.

“But why have you ventured so far in search of Essences?” Rodrik continued his questioning.

“There aren’t so many monsters where I come from,” Alex confessed.

“What do you mean, ‘not so many’ in the dangerous north?” Rodrik raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you mean slimes and rats... Well, I understand you have quite different species.”

“Lord Rodrik,” Alex stuck to the subject of monsters. “The dungeon is teeming with monsters now. I’ve seen a giant slime the size of a... a hill!”

“A hill?” Rodrik raised his eyebrows.

“Yes!” Alex confirmed. “Lezard’s seal has been broken, and there’s nothing holding the dungeon’s inhabitants back. They will soon flood the surface.”

“I’m afraid it’s true, my Lord,” Ogner said heavily. “Near the camp, before we met Sir Alex, and later with him as well, we encountered several packs of monsters. We mistakenly thought they were regular raids.”

“But the monsters have left the dungeon before,” Rodrik disagreed. “Given that we’re in the mountains, it’s a common occurrence.”

“But you yourself saw a D-rank monster yesterday!” The scout reminded him. “It wandered near the camp like a common F-rank one, which are a dime a dozen around here. Such powerful creatures have never been seen in this area.”

Rodrik frowned. His gray eyes looked grim. It took a lot for him to deviate from his original mission.

“Sir Alex, are you sure that the seal has been broken? Are the upper levels of the dungeon really filled with monsters?” He inquired at last.

“Yes, my Lord,” Alex said, adopting Ogner’s way of addressing the noble aristocrat. “Rats, centipedes, slimes... There’s a sea of them down there. I barely escaped.”

“You see, we need an army to clear the dungeon,” Ogner interjected convincingly. He was a sturdy man, a head taller than average, “We’ll lay down our lives in vain and fail to help the lady.”

The Lord cast a dark glance at the knight, who immediately bit his tongue. Rodrik wasn’t a giant, but the ruler of Golden Hill knew how to instill fear and respect in those under his rule. A true aristocrat, he commanded authority with few words. In appearance, he was an ordinary man with long black hair that reached down to his shoulders. Although there were a few white hairs in his trimmed beard, he didn’t look any older than forty.

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few minutes. Alex remembered about the Holy Slime, but it was too early to reveal his trump cards. He still wasn’t sure how his technique could benefit him here. He also had to assess the situation and decide if he could trust these people. He didn’t want them to hang him from the nearest tree for consorting with monsters.

“We’re breaking camp,” Rodrik finally ordered. “We’re returning to Golden Hill. Sir Alex, we’ll discuss your travels later. My apologies, but you see the situation.”

“Oh, no problem,” Alex nodded discreetly. He was glad to stop the conversation.

Rodrik looked at Alex’s tattered clothes.

“I understand you’ve had a hard time. Would you accept my invitation to my estate, as well as assistance on your journey?”

Alex couldn’t have hoped for anything better: he didn’t want to stay in the woods. He needed to reach civilization, learn how to use his abilities without freezing or starving. Now all the conditions were met.

“I would accept it with great gratitude,” Alex replied.

“Utsyn,” the Lord addressed the servant who had been standing in the corner of the tent all along. “Tell Sergeant Ganen that Sir Alex is my esteemed guest and he should provide everything necessary for the journey, as well as...”

Alex’s stomach suddenly growled shamelessly, interrupting Lord Rodrik.

“... make sure Sir Alex is fed,” the Lord finished with a straight face.

With that, the conversation ended, and the exhilarated Alex was led in the opposite direction of the camp.

“My Lord,” Ogner turned to Rodrik as the tent flap closed behind Alex. “Do you still believe the man to be a noble of the Frost Empire?”

“Perhaps even a relative of the Frost King,” the Lord said. “Either way, his connections will be useful.”

“He couldn’t have ventured into these caves without a reason... What if he knows how to save the lady?” The knight hoped.

“Not a word about it for now,” Rodrik ordered. “We can’t show our weakness and hardship to anyone, especially a guest.”

Alex made his way through the jumble of soldiers’ tents, past the canopies over the supplies and the sharp frames of the knights’ pavilions. In a large tent filled with bundles of cloth and wooden crates, the burly Sergeant Ganen listened to the servant’s report and fell into thought.

“Well, we’ll provide you with a horse, sir,” he addressed Alex. “We’ve recently lost one of our strongest fire mages, Sir Jaxenderidorian, in a battle with a monster bear. We also have plenty of spare clothes — a couple of soldiers have been killed by monsters while gathering firewood,” he added, taking out several bundles. “As for a tent, I’m not sure, but we can find one among the belongings of the deceased.”

“This is an important guest of the Lord,” the servant reminded gently.

“We’ll find a tent,” Ganen straightened up immediately. “It’ll be ready by evening.”

Alex sincerely hoped that no knight would have to die for his tent. He would even sleep in a shared tent, he wasn’t too proud.

In a hurry, Ganen did some digging in the crates. He found leather boots, a cape, a belt, footcloths, a warm wool sweater and pants somewhere in the pile. The clothes fit Alex. Ganen had an experienced eye. In this world, sergeants were the knights’ assistants who took care of logistics. Alex was also given a sword. It wasn’t new, the hilt was worn and the blade dulled from frequent use, but it was better than nothing.

Then the servant led Alex to the field kitchen. There he was generously fed a porridge of stinkhorn mushrooms, rye bread, turnips, and thin slices of carrot. Enjoying the taste of real human food, Alex looked around. The camp was buzzing with activity. The Lord’s men were dismantling tents and pavilions, harnessing horses, and arranging large wagons that resembled mobile chicken coops. The knights’ cavalry inspired respect. Unlike Ogner and Krenner, they were clad in steel. They sat on their horses as if they were iron pillars driven into their saddles.

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“Sir Alex,” Gimbon suddenly appeared from the direction of the wagons, making Alex almost choke on a piece of turnip. He was a real scout! “Have you eaten? I’ve been ordered to accompany you on your journey.”

“Ahem... Thank you,” Alex coughed and patted his chest a few times.

“Is everything okay?” The squire asked.

“Yes, everything is fine. You’re just very quiet.”

“Thanks, that’s the best compliment for a scout,” Gimbon beamed.

The squire led him to the knights, right into the middle of the formation. Up close, the cavalrymen were... considerably shorter. Alex was of average height, but he felt like a giant among them. Most of the knights were smaller in stature and shoulder width than he was. There were a few burly ones who were bigger than Alex, but even they looked at his broad wrists with respect, thanks to vitamins, morning workouts, and the general development of the twenty-first century.

The horses, however, were another story: they were true monsters — huge, muscular beasts exhaling steam from their flaring nostrils. No other horse could have borne the weight of the steel-clad knights.

“This is your horse, Sir Alex,” Gimbon said. Alex turned and froze with shock. “His name is Mouse, and he’s already saddled.”

And how am I supposed to ride him?

Underneath the gray skin, muscles rolled like boulders; his neck was as thick as a siege tower; his legs were like tree trunks; his bull-like chest surged like a tempestuous wave. Everything was intertwined with veins. But still Alex sat on the horse. And the animal didn’t even kick. Mouse proved to be obedient.

While Alex got used to the saddle, the Lord’s retinue began to move slowly. The beaten road wound through the trees, the knights leading their horses with confident, calm steps, and behind them the draft horses plodded along, pulling the wagons. Next to Alex rode Gimbon in leather armor. The knights in front and behind swayed like iron masts. Alex counted about a dozen of them. There were a few more squires and simple warriors. They didn’t cover themselves in metal from head to toe, instead settling on breastplates or mail shirts that protected their chest and back, with leather jerkins sticking out from underneath.

Alex got used to the horse surprisingly quickly. Stealthily, he glanced at Gimbon and copied his way of sitting in the saddle and holding the reins. It turned out to be easier than struggling with a mechanical transmission. Alex didn’t have a car of his own, but his father had often let him take the wheel of his Audi.

“And where are Ogner and Krenner, or rather Sir Ogner and Sir Krenner?” Alex asked Gimbon.

“Scouts,” the squire replied briefly. “Scouting. Tell me, Sir Alex, how is life in the north?”

“Cold,” Alex replied cautiously.

“Are there many monsters?” Gimbon’s eyes lit up. “They say you literally swim in Essences. It’s true that you have to fight often, but that’s why you get stronger so fast.”

“It depends,” Alex made a somber face and gazed into the distance, as if remembering the past.

That did the trick. The squire didn’t want to interrupt the blond knight’s reminiscing.

As they walked under the snowy paws of the fir trees, Alex listened to the conversations of the knights ahead. Unfamiliar names of places and cities confused him, but he could understand some of it. They were in the east of the Tyrone Kingdom, near Lezard’s Dungeon. He also got some information about the purpose of the campaign.

“How can we leave like this?” A knight with his visor raised protested. “What about the Holy Slime? What about the lady? Did poor Sir Jaxenderidorian die for nothing?”

“We’ll forever remember the sacrifice of Sir Jaxenderidorian!” Came a fierce, strong voice from the head of the party.

Alex was once again amazed at how easily everyone here pronounced the name of this fallen knight.

The clatter of hooves shook the ground, and another knight with crimson plumage and a griffon engraved on his helmet approached the agitated one. The steel warrior resembled a fighting rooster with his bright crest and belligerence.

“Lezard’s Seal has been broken, and our Lord deemed it necessary to warn the King of the impending disaster, so as to preserve the lives of others,” he roared. “Sir Merin, do you doubt the wisdom of this decision?”

“No! No, Sir Enessen!” The man replied. “I only asked...”

“Very well,” the Garrison Commander turned away and hurried to the wagons.

There his powerful voice resounded again, cursing some squire for his dislodged helmet. Alex was glad that the sergeant hadn’t found a helmet for him, though he’d feel better with it.

They passed through the forest, a narrow strip of steppe, another forest, hills, ravines. The sky dimmed at the horizon. It was quickly getting dark. Soon they reached a wide road, no longer winding through the trees and avoiding every bush, but running along as a wide, beaten path on the ground.

Alex looked up at the sky with great interest. During daytime, he hadn’t noticed anything strange — the sun was just like on Earth. But at night everything changed — totally different stars and the moon. It was three times bigger than on Earth and more silvery. There were no visible craters on it either. It seemed as if the moon’s surface was covered in mist. He wondered if anyone lived there. Anything was possible in this world of monsters.

Rodrik gave the order and the troop set up camp. As promised, Sergeant Ganen gave Alex a tent.

“Did any of the knights die?” Alex asked, looking disheartened at the rolled-up gray canvas.

“Many died,” the sergeant sighed. “Very many. But even before you came.”

Ganen assigned a few servants to pitch the tent. They erected the temporary dwelling in the center of the camp, almost flush with the Lord’s tent. They were finished quickly. Alex surveyed the tall cloth house. Gray wolves scattered across the canvas walls looked black and menacing in the dim starlight. Alex shuddered. The wolf was probably the emblem of the late knight with the complicated name.

Alex waited outside until the servants finished cleaning up and lit a lantern inside. The golden glow encouraged him, and the wolves didn’t seem so terrifying when illuminated from within.

“Please, sir,” the servant reported the sleeping quarters ready.

Before Alex could thank him, he heard cawing. Loud, hoarse, desperate. It could be what a raven the size of a Dobermann might sound like. The camp was immediately in an uproar. The warriors leapt to their feet, abandoning their tasks, discarding their belongings and firewood, and grabbing their swords. Steel gleamed in the light of the campfires.

Huge shadows suddenly swooped down from above. Screams of pain, the clash of steel, and the splash of blood echoed, both of the monsters and humans. But there were even more shadows in the sky. The stars disappeared because there were so many ravens flying around. They were being attacked by birds the size of attack dogs, monstrous and of various kinds and levels of pedigree. Some had a dull, dark steel color, while others emitted a dark gas, and the third type seemed to be carved out of black ice.

Like all the knights, Rodrik rushed outside. Unlike his men, the Lord didn’t even bend down; on the contrary, he stood tall, facing the nightmarish sky, and raised his hands. The metal cuffs on his wrist instantly glowed, transforming into an enormous steel bow, but there were no arrows. With a single movement, Rodrik picked up the weapon, took a stance, aimed it at the sky, and snapped the string. Who-o-o-o-osh... Fiery arrows tore through the darkness of the sky. Ten of them, no less. Leaving a smoky trail, they pierced the nearest ravens above the camp. The birds flared up with shrill caws and fell like burning comets.

Nevertheless, the stars didn’t come back! The sky was still covered with swarms of the winged monsters. Two more knights beside Alex grabbed their bows. The others fought the ravens that had already landed. Alex unsheathed his blade and managed to slash a monster’s beak, earning a shimmering Essence in return.

The sky grew darker, though it seemed impossible, and the crowing grew louder. Sharp steel feathers rained down. One of the squires screamed, clutching his bloodied shoulder.

A new arrow whistled through the air. Black blades glowed in the firelight. On instinct, without thinking, Alex jumped aside, just in time. The spot where he had stood moments before was now covered in a black carpet of blades.

“My Lord, use the amplifiers!” Ogner shouted, fending off the attacking ravens.

“I’m out of elixirs!” Rodrik roared, firing arrows one by one.

But Ogner didn’t hear him. The knight continued to shout over the clash of swords:

“My lord, elixirs! Amplifiers!”

“I don’t have any!” The Lord shouted. “There’s none of D-rank!”

D-rank? Elixirs? Alex thought. Maybe the artifact will do? It’s D-rank too!

With one hand free, he pulled the sharp shard from his pocket.

“My Lord...” Alex started shouting.

The recoil of the knight’s technique blew with a powerful wind. Alex stumbled and took a few awkward steps toward Rodrik. He accidentally tripped over the dead raven’s body and nearly fell, but he regained his balance and flailed his arms. His fingers loosened, and the artifact fragment fell, rolling to Lord Rodrik’s boots, shimmering with a turquoise light. A quick flash hit the Lord’s eyes. He looked down and blinked in surprise.

A familiar window flashed before Alex’s eyes:

Remnants of an unknown D-rank artifact. Properties unknown.

The Lord nodded to Alex, quickly picked up the shard, and tossed it into the air. He shot an arrow with precision. It completely pierced the artifact fragment, and the mirror shattered into countless sparkling turquoise splinters.

The sky was flooded with white light. Hundreds of white arrows erupted from the shattered fragments, piercing the darkness above the camp. Shrill screams sent shivers down the men’s spines. The darkness howled. From the howling abyss, the burning ravens poured down like a screaming rain. A rain of corpses and future undead. The monsters on the ground were incinerated. The sky shone again with pure starlight. The Lord’s men won.

Rodrik sighed wearily as his bow returned to its bracer form. The Lord of Golden Hill approached Alex with heavy steps. His gaze was stern, his lips pressed together. To Alex’s surprise, the Lord bowed slightly.

“You sacrificed the precious artifact to save my people. Sir Alex, thank you for giving me the Heavenly Mirror. I’ll never forget it.”

Rodrik straightened and turned away, but couldn’t resist taking another step towards Alex, grabbing his shoulders and repeating:

“Thank you!” Tears glistened in Lord Rodrik’s eyes.

“I did what I had to do,” Alex murmured.

In his heart, he marveled at the deadly thing he had been carrying in his pocket all this time.