The tactics course was finally over, and Ushumgall could finally rest, lie down in his room, read some trashy magazines, and only go for a walk around the city in the evening, stopping by each time for a bottle of wine. He could, if he were different, because despite a few days of unusual mental strain, the young man was now as alert as usual. Remembering Sheilin's words, Ushumgall heads to "Kuromod".
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers