Posts from ⚔️Serberia Auto-translated

Could she show him her own snake instead?

You can try.

Guys, don't fall for it; the last time someone said something like that, five people got depressed.

- Hey, uh... what's your name? I'm Veserod.

— Harissa. — She bows politely again. — Pleased to meet you, Lord Veserod.

- Well, so... here we have this little street... kind of like an alley, only instead of trees, there are trash cans. It's a convenient place to stop on the way home from work and buy something for the house... like, uh... - he waved his hand towards the general store. - Mechanical watches, for example, or a gasket. You never know what a working man might need. There are glasses too. They might confiscate the company-issued ones at the factory. As they say, if a worker loses his eyes, there's a line of people waiting to take his place, we'll find someone else... It seems you can also get shoes repaired here. Let's see, what else...
Veserod and Harissa walked a few more steps.
- Ah, here. This is where they sell "miracles of modern medicine" - water with syrup. But don't believe that nonsense. Nothing is better than plantain and medicinal herbs. My ancestors lived to be one hundred and twenty years old on natural remedies, and here, every other person has rotten and falling-out teeth... - he pointed his finger at the newspaper office. - There lives Albert and his assistant. They print a newspaper. Nothing interesting, really.
They walked another ten steps.
- There's a manhole cover to the sewer. If your master is so curious, he might want to go down there, but it's all blocked off so children don't climb in. At most, he can jump on the cover. And that place over there - that's a fighting club. They might kill you there and make money off it, or vice versa. If you're not strong enough. Otherwise, it's just sweaty guys beating each other up. Your master will probably want to participate, but it's better not to go there now, but wait until next week.
Veserod scratched his head.
- So, that's it... about this street. Well, do you have any thoughts? Anything about vulnerable spots or something like that?

— So far, I see that the people in this province live quite differently than in Reichheim. The owner, I'm afraid, won't be able to fit through a manhole due to his size, but perhaps that's for the best.

Veserod nodded and led his guest down Culture Street. "Well, this is Culture Street... It says 'culture,' but there's not much culture here. Actually... This is the 'casino' your master wanted to go to. It's hard to miss; you can see it yourself. There's security standing there with those fake ears... That's to make sure your master behaves. And that sign with the woman is so your master can find it even when he's dead drunk. And there are girls standing around in costumes," Veserod looked Harissa up and down and nodded thoughtfully. "You know what... Your master might want a costume for you too. So... maybe it would be a good idea to prepare? Try it on at the hotel, for example. And I, as an experienced person, could take a look and make sure it fits properly. Just a thought..." Veserod shrugged. "There's another sewer grate. You could jump on it, but it's closed. Although, given your proportions, it's probably better not to... And over there... Hmm... Ah... What is that?" He frowned and stared intently at the facade of another building for a few moments. "Ah! Yes. I've heard about it. It's some kind of barbershop. I haven't been there, but women go there to get themselves all dolled up. Well, you might not need it, but your master... " Veserod grinned slyly and shrugged. "Well... It depends on how old he is, I guess... Whether they'll serve him or not... Anyway, it's up to you." They walked another half-step. "And this is a 'bookstore,' if your master knows how to read, that is, if he likes to read. But the selection is poor. Just magazines with women. It's okay as a souvenir, but not for a respectable person. And that's it. This street is small, just like the culture itself. There are a lot of drunkards and perverts here, so you have to be careful."

— Yes, I think he’ll like it here. — Harissa concluded, ignoring Veserod’s “just” suggestion. — Hmm...
The tourist decides to go inside the “book” store.
— What... An interesting selection of goods. Yes, he will definitely like it here. — She repeated her comment with a barely perceptible weariness in her voice.

The slums, striking a sharp contrast to the cultural district of Elheim, greeted the travelers with a bleak vista of dirty, narrow streets and dark alleyways, where suspicious figures seemed to scurry from time to time. On the slanted porches of time-blackened shacks—some of which had strangely new doors—faces of questionable freshness flickered repeatedly, while tightly drawn curtains shifted periodically as if on their own. It felt as though they were being watched from everywhere. How could Anders have spent his childhood in such an unpleasant place?

A clash with the local criminals did not take long to happen—when Anders aimed at a hooded figure attempting to sneak up on Alessia, the slums began to resemble a disturbed hive; bandits swarmed from all sides, and crossbow bolts whistled through the air. However, the group was lucky that these were merely ordinary thugs, attempting to win by numbers and possessing no special skills. In that regard, the battle reminded them of a fight with dendroids, with the difference being that human flesh was hacked through far more easily than stubborn wood. But since then, the Baldurian company had significantly improved their skill, so the local gang stood no chance. Although some were hit by shots, the team's integrity was restored at the cost of a couple of first-aid kits, and they pressed on until they reached the abandoned house mentioned in the intelligence reports.

What happened inside was a real nerve-wracker; barely had Anders responded to an unfamiliar female voice when the thunder of a shot rang out, and the crossbowman collapsed as if cut down. The house turned out not to be abandoned at all; from the gloom, Diablo stared at them with a spear at the ready, and behind him, a stranger was reloading a musket—evidently the same companion the spearman had mentioned to the Mirai at the casino. How quickly his mood had changed; not long ago he had offered to play cards, and now he intended to kill. A heart skipped a beat when Diablo pierced Ayr with his spear—one glance was enough to realize that Ryohai would not be able to raise her after such a wound. During the brief battle, only he and Veserod remained of the group, but the musketeer also fell dead after a precise shot from the hunter.

Despite being eaten away by anxiety for his motionless comrades, there was no time to be distracted—Diablo alone posed a great danger. Exchanging a glance with the leader, who was loading another arrow, Ryohai continued the onslaught against the villain. While dodging his strikes, the spearman took a couple of arrows from Veserod, and it seemed that at that moment his nerves gave way—Diablo left his companion lying in the dust and ran out of the house, vanishing into the alleys.

There were only enough first-aid kits for half of the fallen friends, and Ryohai was already bitterly preparing to choose whom to sacrifice, but then Reynold and Ayr miraculously regained consciousness on their own, and Anders and Alessia were quickly stabilized. Although they let Diablo slip away, the youth had already forgotten about him—after all, there were no casualties, and it felt as if a stone had been lifted from his soul. Taking the body of the woman, who, judging by her belongings, was the heiress of a fallen count's house of Elheim, they departed to report to the Governor-General.

Some time after the skirmish in the slums and the visit to the Governor-General, Ryohai, feeling the need to distract himself from what had happened, went to the fighting club to end the week with a performance in the arena. His first opponent was a sturdy warrior in armor with a war hammer—this fight was long and exhausting, but in the end, the samurai managed to open Axel up like a tin can. Then a rapierist stepped forward, unleashing a series of lunges, but was quickly defeated by a single precise strike of the katana. The next opponent also had a rapier—the same August who had descended into the sewers, and the reigning champion—but he was much stronger than the previous one; his strikes were less frequent but more powerful, and moreover, they maimed and disoriented—defeat was inevitable. Then something of a comedy occurred—Ronald, a guy with a bastard sword, stepped up against the samurai, and for an indefinite amount of time they hacked away at each other, unable to deal significant damage. Eventually, Ronald exhaustedly jammed his sword into the ring and stared at the samurai in bewilderment—apparently, he had no idea how to win and no longer wished to continue the fight. And the final fight turned out to be the fastest; a guy with a dagger poked rapidly, of course, but couldn't take a hit at all and went down with the first attack.

For the first time in a long while, Ryohai was in high spirits—Eugene's tasks were partially completed, all his comrades were alive and well, and he had managed to prove himself in the arena. Only this August caused concern... He needed to be ready for a probable next clash with him, and Diablo would likely not let what they did go unpunished. But that's for later; now he only wanted to rest... Collecting his reward, Ryohai returned to the hotel, and with that, the second week of his stay in Elheim came to an end.

Veserod nodded to the librarian – he had, after all, brought a potential client.
- Well, here we go...

Before leading his guest into the slums, Veserod once again thoroughly briefed her on all the possible dangers lurking there.
- Last week, there was a raid on this part of the city. It might be a little calmer now, but it might not be. Be alert, keep a low profile, keep your belongings close, and let's not linger here. 
Heaving a sigh and offering a prayer to the great natural forces, Veserod began the tour of the dilapidated part of the city.
- So, here we have... - he frowned, remembering Anders' report, which he had risked his life to obtain. - How to put it... A society... of... alternative... believers. If your master goes there, he'll come out with a smile and in his underwear. And he'll sign over this society, you, his lands, his house, and his title to them. In short, it's not a place for a mentally healthy person.
He pointed to the neighboring, half-ruined building, a "steel foundry".
- I haven't been there myself, but they say... - Veserod hesitated. - Well, um... Mmm, um... That is... In other words... Anyway, your master might like it. I just don't know how to explain it... Well, it's like you can pay to get slapped on the butt in the basement or something... It's not uncommon among the Arreat-thieves. Anyway, it doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. Note that it's next to the cultists. Makes you think, doesn't it?
Veserod waved his hand and, cautiously looking around and holding Harissa's hand tightly, led her through another "safe" alleyway into the next part of the slums.
- Over there - we won't go too close - is a homeless shelter. I simply don't recommend going there, and your master probably wouldn't want to experience the smell, catch the plague, and all that, even if he has a peculiar taste. Let's go from here, they're already starting to look at us.
Moving to a nearby branch, they found themselves in an area familiar to Veserod and their group.
- There's a house over there, where Arreat-thieves used to live, but it's sealed now. Another crime. Someone was killed in it, or something, ah-ha-ha... - Veserod wiped the sweat from his brow. - And over there is a free market. So to speak, goods that are not in mass consumption. They might be of interest to your master, but it's mostly weapons. And I doubt it's legal.
Veserod nervously looked around.
- Well, that's it. Oh, and there's the sewer over there. I don't know if it counts as a vulnerable spot. Alright, let's get out of here...

Throughout this time, the tourist silently observed the scenes unfolding before her eyes, listening to Veserod's commentary. Somewhere in her mind, in addition to the main goal of her trip – the casino – she also noted "Under the Moon," a fighting club, "Clash of Steel," a black market, and Aconite as locations worth visiting.
— Thank you, Mr. Veserod. — Another bow. — Thanks to you, I can now be at ease when my employer visits this city. Allow me to thank you for the help you provided... — Blushing, Harissa stopped. — To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what would be a good reward for you, and I'm afraid that my lack of knowledge of local cultural norms might offend you. So, allow me to ask: should I pay you with money, give you a valuable item, or teach you something that will help you in life?

- Well, what can I say... I was glad to help. Although I was a little nervous towards the end, - Veserod shrugged. - Hmm... What exactly should I teach? I'm a craftsman, a hunter, my path in life isn't the widest...

"Of the things that can be demonstrated in such a short time, I could teach you how to handle a saber and a pistol, how to create an effective daily routine, agility, the etiquette necessary for high society, or perhaps the ability to make an impression on those around you."

- You have a difficult job, - sighed Veserod, and mentally wished her strength to deal with the capricious master. - Well, let's do it this way. Values come and go, but memories and wisdom remain in the heart forever.
Baiting a down - a routine, instead of a proper item or artifact.

Vesirod gains +1 Luck and +1 to Morale.