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When Ratislav came to, he was extremely upset and exasperated by what had happened. Of course, such "attacks" had happened to him a few times before, but usually, bricks weren't dropped on his head; and after the Tyrian had been robbed twice and they couldn't find more than 1,000 R on him, it seemed to him that such "beggars" had finally lost all interest in him. He walked this street almost every day and was already considered a sort of local—just another penniless mercenary pauper. His older brother had assured Ratislav that he now definitely had immunity to such attacks, but it turned out he was deeply mistaken.
Ratislav rose from the ground, clutching his head, then attempted to stand up straight. His head was throbbing and spinning, his vision was doubling, and he felt nauseous... Even the loss of money didn't upset the Tyrian as much—though he had planned to purchase a couple of slaves—as the loss of his expensive family sword, with which he had traveled through the wild lands. He had noticed that the blade was sometimes capable of easily passing "through" enemy armor, destroying it, and could withstand and even reflect the blow of a projectile spell.
The Tyrian slowly regained his composure, looked around, cursed loudly, and staggered toward the slave market. He was quite surprised to find that there were significantly fewer slaves there. In the end, the Tyrian bought Taola (12,500 R), and then headed to "Skilled Steel," where he purchased a bow (which isn't there!) (let's say 3,000 R) and twenty high-quality arrows (1,000 R), after which he visited Ivysa Tant's workshop.
Of course, the Tyrian frankly disliked this arrogant and overconfident girl, but even he could not deny that her inventions were truly amazing. Therefore, with the money he had left, Ratislav purchased Electra (30,000 R), and then headed home.
***
Barely crossing the threshold of the house, Ratislav saw his brother sitting at the table writing something—obviously, another important assignment from the ruling elite of the Old City.
—Oh, hello, Ratislav. — his brother greeted him without looking up from his task. Then he raised his head and shifted his gaze to Taola. —I see you decided to spend some of your money and buy yourself a slave girl. I saw her at the slave market. A whore would have been much cheaper.
—Very funny, Radomir. Come in, Taola, make yourself almost "at home." — Ratislav with difficulty removed his heavy armor and sat at the table next to his brother. —I am leaving Nevermore and plan to set out on a journey with the ruler of the Haven. The help of an archer won't be superfluous.
—Then you could have bought yourself a couple of sorcerers as well. — Radomir smirked. —Wait a minute... — the Tyrian rose from the table and carefully examined his younger brother, then shifted his gaze to the armor he had just removed and hung on the wall. —Where is your sword, Ratislav?
—I... it's nothing special, those cursed children just stunned me and...
—I see. — Radomir nodded affirmatively. —I remember telling you that the beggars here are not at all like those you encountered on the streets of Dal Shabet before. These are ordinary criminals, nothing more, so you must deal with them quite differently. Imagine a brute of an unstable appearance approaches you, looks at you threateningly with small red eyes, and asks for money in a sweet voice. Just hack him with your sword and run away.
—Stop lecturing me again, Radomir. — the Tyrian interrupted his brother. —My head is already splitting. I wanted to participate in the Tournaments, but everything is doubling in my eyes... — the Tyrian collapsed helplessly onto the bed.
—In that case, you can thank those children. — Radomir finished writing the letter, then put it in an envelope, sealed it, and went into the hallway. —Together, they saved you from a stupid death in the arena. Although, of course, personally, it's damn frustrating that you managed to lose all your accumulated savings in a single day.
—But it was my money! — Ratislav's quiet voice rang out from the bedroom. —Besides, not all is lost. I may not be able to go to the arena now, but... I WILL GET BACK my sword and MY money. At any cost.
—Sometimes you simply amaze me, Ratislav. — Radomir threw on a dark cloak, slipped the envelope into his pocket, put on his hat, and then took two masterfully crafted blades hanging on the wall. —Anyway, if you manage to get your things back, it will be the first sane act you've performed in these two years. Alright, I leave you alone with your new guest; I won't give her my bed, so she'll have to spend the night in yours.
—Or on the floor... — Ratislav muttered.
—Decide for yourself. — Radomir smirked. —But if I were you, I wouldn't deny myself the pleasure. — The Tyrian left the house and dissolved into the darkness.
Revan, I took the liberty of assuming that the bow costs the same as two-handed weapons — 3,000 R.
Apologies for such a message, but I won't be able to continue the expedition at the previous level of activity for a while, so I wrote the character's actions for this entire day at once.
And yes, I intend to get my sword back; I don't care about the money, but this is, excuse me, a matter of roleplay, so the gang of juvenile thugs will have to be shot and beaten down.