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“On behalf of our group, I offer you our apologies, Lord Zeno,” said the Argalian, her voice firm as she surveyed the members of her group, who seemed ready to jump into battle. “I don’t know what came over Anselm, what made him provoke you after we resolved the misunderstanding. And this is after you chose not to hold a grudge against Anders for his rash shot. I honestly can’t find the words to describe the situation because even in our lands, such behavior would be considered strange and wild. You suffered from our foolishness, and we suffered from its consequences. Despite the behavior of my companions, they are not looking for a fight. As far as I can see, you are not looking for one either. So, I propose that we leave what happened between our group and you over the past few minutes in the past. Forget about it, if you agree, and start our acquaintance with a clean slate. As Reynold, my companion who is familiar with the rules of good manners, already mentioned, we are ready to heal your wounds or provide you with money for their treatment. As for your affairs in Myrkoria, we are ready to take you to the city. However, I must warn you that the guards at the entrance are often very suspicious and picky – they are not even willing to let every Serberian inside. However, if the invitation from the Count or Countess was not verbal, then, as I think, there should be no problems.”
“As I said before, it will heal on its own,” Calentia observes as the injured man’s eye begins to recover. “And there is an invitation, although it is not specifically addressed to me, but it seems to be official.” She pulls a slightly crumpled piece of paper with the coat of arms of the House of Rivelstein from her trouser pocket, on which something was written along the lines of “warriors of the east, if you wish to meet a strong opponent and earn a worthy reward, come to Myrkoria.” The document itself was dated January of this year.