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Late in the evening, the doors of the elite "Odyssey" hotel swung open, and a polite employee ushered in a cheerful couple. The first of them, tall and blond, was recounting something amusing with a slight stagger, pointedly twitching his pyramidal mustache. The girl accompanying him tried to appear graceful and elegant, but playful sparks were also dancing in her celestial eyes. To the trained eye of the lackey, it was as clear as day that despite the lady's trendy haircut and the guy's stylish suit, the two not only didn't look like Mircorians, but didn't look like city dwellers at all. Sighing heavily and giving a barely perceptible nod to the tense security guards, the employee donned his usual strained smile of hospitality as the couple, never ceasing to look around in astonishment, finally reached his desk.
—...So then I hit him once with the rapier, twice, three times, then some more, and he just collapsed... Oh, good evening! My, what a beauty you've got here! — the blond man declared sincerely, leaning over the counter, likely expecting some response from the employee. To the employee's keen nose came the familiar, foul scents of recently consumed alcohol. The last thing they needed were nighttime brawls in such a distinguished establishment. One move, one wrong action — and these two would be spending the coming years having fun in an Illian Dungeon.
To his surprise, the girl pushed the guy away from the counter with unexpected firmness and smiled apologetically:
—Please forgive my companion; we have only recently arrived in your wonderful city and are still under the pleasant impression of the sights here.
Her face seemed somewhat familiar to the employee. To get rid of the poor bumpkins as quickly as possible, he mumbled a rehearsed greeting in a polite tone and inquired about the purpose of their visit.
—We want a room, a double! — the guy continued to beam like an evening star. —For three, oh, — rubbing his bumped elbow, he shot a disgruntled look at the girl, — I mean, for one week.
Raising an eyebrow, the worker announced the prices for the overnight stay in a calm, happy voice. He enjoyed watching how the faces of many naive guests of Mircoria changed and distorted, likely thinking that a vacation like some miserable Elheim would be affordable for them. This time, however, the opposite happened:
—Of course, no problem! — the blond man nodded without hesitation, rummaging through the crumpled pockets of his traveling cloak, which belonged in a dumpster at best, — after which he placed a heavy pouch clinking with selics on the table. —One moment, please. — With these words, he began to count out the required sum.
The girl preferred to turn away, pretending to be very interested in the hotel's ornate high ceilings.
While the guests were paying, the employee cast another attentive glance over them. Definitely not locals, but apparently not bandits either, though it was certainly worth making sure by checking the News about recent robberies. Too young to afford such a vacation through simple labor — perhaps spending the savings left by their parents? Or, most likely, the children of some za-Illian aristocrats, some soldier-buffs who had grabbed lands from the noble peerage for nothing. Noticing the rapier on the guy's belt and the decorated scabbard for a Roman sword on the girl — could she even lift it off the ground? — the worker's doubts almost vanished. What a disgrace, what this country has come to...
—Here you go! — having finished paying, the blond man called out to his companion: —Il, did Kal also come here?
—Yes, for this week. — the blue-eyed girl nodded. — And Alessia is most likely somewhere here too.
The employee couldn't suppress a nervous sigh: could there really be two more from this strange company in their noble establishment? Nevertheless, there was nothing to complain about, at least for now, so all that remained was to finish the usual paperwork, learn the guests' names, and give them the room keys.
—Thank you very much! — the guy tilted his head slightly awkwardly. —And can I also find out, uh, is the room with a sea view? And, that's the thing, can we order some wine to the room?..
—Let's just go, Ren. Thank you for your time! — the blond girl forcibly pulled her companion along.
After crossing several luxurious halls, climbing a wide winding staircase with gilded railings, and walking down a corridor covered with expensive carpets, the couple managed to find the door to their "palace." Because compared to their modest Baldur house, it was impossible to call it anything else.
—*****! — Ren couldn't hold back an enthusiastic comment, rushing to the open window, where the dark waters of the bay shimmered in the last rays of the setting summer sun. —Did you ever think we would live in a place like this?
—Sometimes. — the girl answered evasively, also looking around their assigned quarters with amazement. —It's a pity it's only for one week. After that, climbing through forests or returning to Baldur will be even harder...
—It's fine, it's fine! — optimism prevailed in the guy today. —We'll save up some money and move here forever.
—Maybe not here. — Ilva shook her head briefly, recalling the hospitable reception her brother had to face, as well as the strange fashion of the locals. —But the idea is right.
—How could it not be! After all, I'm with the most beautiful girl in Mirco.., well, in all of Serberia! — the inspired Ren turned away from the window and met his sister's eyes.
—Oh, stop it... — Ilva smiled without much embarrassment. —In that case, I'm with the best duelist in all of Serberia!
The following night, neither of them was in the mood to admire the sea.
Граф Орлов
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