Dmitry returned to the Ark and pressed the scanner. The smart mechanism beeped quietly, recognized its owner, and obligingly slid open the door, extending the ladder. Once inside, Dmitry saw Toby sitting exactly where he had left him. In the same position, wrapped in a blanket. 'Hm, commendable,' Dmitry thought, surprised by the boy's endurance.

  — I need to leave for a day, maybe two, — Dmitry said, heading for the cockpit. — You’ll be in charge here.

  He sat in the pilot's seat. His fingers danced across the keys, activating the drone. The "Mat" was still on the roof, magnetically attached to the landing pad. Charge: 60%. Enough for a route reconnaissance.

  — Teacher, will I have a Task? Or am I to stay on the bed? — Toby asked in a plaintive voice. He clearly wanted to be useful, not just ballast.

  — You will, — Dmitry answered, watching the monitor intently as the ground rapidly receded from the ascending quadcopter. — Your task right now is recovery. Eat more, work less. I don't need a scrawny apprentice.

  — I am almost well, Teacher! — Toby flared up, but immediately slumped and turned red. — Except... I need to go out. To the wind.

  Dmitry froze, processing what he heard. He turned slowly to the boy.

  — You need to relieve yourself? You've been holding it this whole time?

  Toby nodded, looking at the floor, ready to die of shame. Dmitry shook his head. Discipline is good, but a ruptured bladder was not in the plans. He turned to the screen and set the drone’s route: vector North, scan the track. Let it fly for now. Then he stood up and beckoned the boy toward the back of the living module, to the bathroom door.

  — Come here, apprentice, — he called with a smirk. Toby followed the command instantly. Dmitry opened the door. — Look. This is the toilet. Remember this.

  He began the briefing. He lifted the lid, explained where to sit, and which button to press for the flush—the vacuum system was loud but efficient. He explained at length and in detail so Toby wouldn't break anything.

  — ...And afterward, you wash your hands. Right here. This is the faucet. Pull up—water flows; push down—it stops. Use soap. Press this dispenser. Then dry your hands on this towel. Got it?

  Dmitry looked at his padawan with teacher-like sternness. The boy's face turned crimson; tears welled in his eyes. His lips trembled.

  — What's wrong? — Dmitry was taken aback. He expected surprise, but not tears.

  — F-f-forgive me, Teacher! — Toby sobbed. — I understand now. I am not yet worthy of a Task. I don't even know how to sh-sh-shit like the great ones... I will do exactly as you say!

  Dmitry looked at the sobbing child and felt a mix of pity and amusement. Toby seriously believed that using a toilet was high magic, available only to the chosen few.

  — Well, wonderful, — he said softly. — Don't cry. Go on, do your business. When you're done, you'll take a shower. I’ll show you how. No offense, brother, but you stink quite a bit. The Ark likes cleanliness. Consider it a Ritual of Ablution before I trust you with actual system management.

  At these words, the sorrow vanished from Toby's face like a cobweb in a hurricane. His eyes shone with pride and reverence. A Ritual! Ablution! Before him stood a true Great Mage, for whom even a trip to the bathroom was a sacred rite.

  While the boy mastered the plumbing—the sound of hissing water and awestruck whispers echoing from behind the door—Dmitry returned to the monitor. The image from the drone’s camera drifted there: a gray-brown landscape, the ribbon of the road stretching to the horizon, and the gloomy edge of the marshes to the right. Dmitry adjusted the viewing angle. The drone was already returning, having mapped the nearest section of the path.

  'There's the castle a few kilometers away, and there we are,' Dmitry thought, looking at the white dot of the Ark on the screen. He pressed the "Return to Base" button and climbed to the hatch to retrieve the device for recharging before the long trek.

  After putting the drone’s battery on charge, Dmitry filled a pot with water and turned on the stove. While the water boiled, his thoughts returned to the morning conversation. The decision to go to the city had been made back in the castle over a cup of tea. Dmitry had offered to sell some of his supplies—simple things for him, but undoubtedly valuable here. This would solve the debt problem. Но Dmitry saw his own interest in this. First, reconnaissance: to see a medieval city, learn the prices, and acquire local currency. Second... insurance. He understood: no matter how grateful Coen seemed, he was still an aristocrat. Haughty and unpredictable. Right now, he was asking for help, but what would happen when the debt vanished? What if he decided the Ark was too powerful a weapon to leave in a stranger's hands? No, he needed his own money. Perhaps to hire guards or bribe officials.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Dmitry poured freeze-dried pea soup into the boiling water and added a pack of soy meat. Five liters of stew—this would last Toby several days while the master was away. Dmitry didn't dare trust the kitchen to the child yet. At that moment, the bathroom door opened. Toby emerged with an expression of universal relief on his face.

  — Managed it? — Dmitry asked with a smile. Toby nodded. — Good job! — praise always reinforces results. — Now, the shower. Come on, I'll show you.

  And everything started anew, though the shower turned out to be simpler. Leaving the boy in the stall, Dmitry went to the sleeping block. He needed to think of something for clothes. He rummaged through a locker and found a set of spare thermal base layers. The fabric stretched well, but looked small when unstretched. It would hang on the scrawny boy, but it was better than his old rags, soaked in sweat and mud.

  Dmitry caught himself thinking that he really cared about this child. Not like a pet, but like a human being. Why? At first, it was just a surge of mercy—a 21st-century man, raised on humanism, couldn't let a child die while having medicine in his kit. It was a matter of principle. And now? The answer lay deep in Dmitry's soul, in such dark corners of his memory that he was afraid to look there too often.

  All his life on Earth in recent years had been a continuous defense. He had built the Ark, investing millions, his soul, and his time into it. And what did he get in return? Mockery. Fingers twirled at temples. He was called a paranoiac, a mad survivalist, a "rich eccentric playing with his toys." Friends politely stopped calling. Women left, unable to withstand his obsession with the coming End of the World. He was a brilliant engineer but an utterly lonely man in his armored fortress. No one believed in him. No one valued his work. To everyone, his Ark was a monument to his madness.

  But this boy... Toby was the first. The first being in the Universe who looked at Dmitry's handiwork not with mockery, but with reverence. He didn't understand mechanics or physics; he didn't know what diesel or composite armor was. Но he unerringly, with some animal instinct, understood the essence. He saw in the Ark what Dmitry had created it to be: a Home. Protection. Warmth. Hope. In Toby's eyes, Dmitry wasn't a crazy freak. He was a Master. A Savior. A God descended from the heavens in a shining chariot.

  It was intoxicating. It healed the old wounds of stung pride better than any alcohol. The boy became that mirror in which Dmitry finally saw himself as he always wanted to be—recognized and needed. That was why he had stepped over his rigid principles as a loner and let an outsider into the sanctum sanctorum. "Just a rational approach," Dmitry reassured himself, pushing away unbidden sentimentality. "Toby is a local. A loyal aborigine who won't betray me because I am everything to him. A useful resource." But his heart squeezed treacherously when he imagined this scrawny sparrow alone in a vast, cold world.

  The sound of water ceased. The door opened, releasing clouds of steam. Toby stepped out—steamed, pink, and clean. He smelled of soap's freshness, not sickness and marsh. He reached for his rags, which reeked of homelessness from a mile away.

  — Take those off immediately, — Dmitry grimaced, hiding his emotions behind a stern tone. — Put this on. Consider it your Apprentice’s Robes.

  He handed the boy the black thermal layers. Toby obediently tossed aside the rags and took the new fabric with trepidation. He remained silent, only his trembling hands betraying the storm of delight in his soul. Having managed to dress, Toby looked at Dmitry.

  — Well... it’ll do for a start.

  Dmitry studied the apprentice, tilting his head. The pants gathered in folds at the ankles, the turtleneck hung to mid-thigh, making the boy look like a little ninja-fail. Dmitry helped him roll up the sleeves.

  — Excellent. The fabric is magical: it warms you when it's cold and wicks away moisture when it's hot. Wear it with pride.

  Dmitry clapped Toby on the shoulder. The boy straightened up, shining like a polished coin.