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“I have doubts about Zutyshmu,” said a friend familiar with the kingdom’s plans, shaking his head. “It seems Calcite has his own fleet, right? So, we, the Asugukh forces, will have to quickly retreat to defend ourselves. This is not good.” He picked up a cursed photograph from the ground, examined it for a while, and then burned the faces on it with a cigarette butt until the pain was searing on his fingertips. He folded the remaining, unrecognizable image in four and hid it in his breast pocket, next to the growth potion. “We can move further away. I don’t know how, but I won’t let them destroy our homeland. We’ll get another chance to retaliate, the goddess will see to it. But first, I’d like to stop by the library. Read about the countries we’re going to, and their relationships with each other. I don’t want to end up caught between two fires again.”