"I categorically disagree!" Günther declared, arms crossed, completing yet another lap around the campfire.

  "Sit down already," Katrina ordered. The mage's pacing was starting to get on her nerves.

  "With all due respect, my lady, I don't understand why we're making this detour. Those lands are practically uninhabited!"

  "That's exactly why we're taking this route," the girl said calmly. "Too many cultists have been popping up in the area."

  "You might as well send us into the Hoggarian Forests," the mage grumbled, then immediately flinched under the paladin's piercing green stare. "My apologies."

  I'd been sitting off to the side for almost half an hour, listening to their bickering while resting from sword training. During our short time on the road, Katrina had shown me several more basic stances and strikes that I was now drilling. And to keep things interesting, she'd ordered squad members to throw rocks at me, which I was supposed to deflect using those very strikes. Gera and Rol had also expressed a desire to train alongside me but tired out fairly quickly and hadn't graduated to the rock-deflecting stage yet.

  I could essentially train all night, since during the day I rode in the wagon and could sleep there. Bumpy, sure, but it wasn't a real problem. Plus, recruits were often used for night watch, standing guard while the main fighters rested.

  During those shifts, we could even squeeze in small sparring sessions.

  But otherwise I trained with the elven blade. Even several days later, I still retained the ability to change the weapon's color. Its black form really was leagues above the normal one. The already sharp blade became roughly three times sharper, and I could fell a small tree with a single strike. Controlling the transformation was tricky, but over several days I'd learned not to trigger it on contact. Though I had no idea how it actually worked.

  The elven blood had changed something in me — I could literally feel it — but aside from using their weapons and the increased mana capacity, no other effects were apparent.

  "Why can't we just go straight to Trilor?" Günther continued, still insisting.

  "Because several trade caravans have disappeared in that area. Possibly demons."

  "Or bandits," the mage disagreed.

  "Or bandits," Katrina nodded. "We'll find out."

  "Ugh… I hate these godforsaken backwaters…" he sighed, finally sitting down by the fire.

  "Then you shouldn't have married Holdi," Torig couldn't resist, making Katrina snort with laughter. The mage shot the warrior a dark look.

  Holdi was apparently his wife.

  "Stop it, Torig," Katrina ordered once she'd composed herself, then looked at the mage. "Want to see your son?"

  "That too, though he's at that age where he wants to run as far from his parents as possible and live on his own."

  Only now, eavesdropping on this conversation from a distance, did I learn that Günther had a son. Possibly a wife too. Interesting — what was she like? I'd always assumed the mage was single, since he never mentioned family. Though I knew for a fact that Torig had a fiancée. Every time he got drunk, he told everyone about her.

  But what concerned me most was whether Katrina had someone. What if a fiancé — or even a husband — was waiting for her in Trilor? I desperately wanted to ask but was genuinely scared of the answer. And then there was her grandfather. I could still feel his grip on my neck.

  The whole world was telling me to forget about her, but for some reason I couldn't get her out of my head.

  She was so beautiful. Watching her sit by the fire, I found myself involuntarily replaying recent events. Glasses of wine and heated kisses in bed, and what could have followed if the old man hadn't appeared.

  Tired of listening to the mage and commander argue, I stood up and grabbed my sword from the ground. Time to resume training — but I'd barely walked a few steps when Katrina caught up.

  "Start training and pretend I'm giving you instructions," she ordered. Once I'd assumed my stance, she continued. "I wanted to ask you not to advertise what happened."

  "Or more precisely, what didn't happen," I corrected her.

  "You know what I mean."

  "Yes. Obviously I'm not going to tell anyone. But I think we need to talk. One moment you're kissing me, and by all indications, that evening, if not for your grandfather, we'd have gone much further than kissing."

  "You don't know that," she said sharply, clearly not wanting to discuss this.

  "Don't know that?" I nearly laughed. "I'd stake my sword on it."

  The elven one, naturally.

  "Enough! We'll discuss this another time." She waved me off and walked away, leaving me biting my elbows in frustration. I genuinely didn't understand what was happening between us. One moment she was all cold business, the next we were practically tearing each other's clothes off. A little clarity would be nice. And while I was mulling this over, she stopped and, turning halfway, added: "Since you're loafing around anyway, grab Gera and fetch water for the horses."

  "Yes, ma'am," I grumbled. And since when was training considered loafing? If she wanted me out of her sight, she could've just said so.

  Finding the short-haired girl-squire wasn't hard. She was hovering nearby, and with buckets in hand, we headed toward a small river about a kilometer from camp. We walked in silence, and only when we started filling the buckets did she speak.

  "What's going on between you and Lady Katrina?"

  "Nothing," I answered, suppressing my surprise.

  "You're a bad liar," she said indifferently.

  "I'm not lying." But this girl seemed to see right through me. "What makes you think something's going on?"

  "Just observation," Gera answered without looking at me. "You look at her differently than you look at everyone else, and she does the same. I doubt I'm the only one who's noticed something's happening between you two."

  "You're imagining things."

  "Look, if you don't want to talk about it — fine. Just don't drag me into it."

  "Then why'd you bring it up?" I scratched my head in confusion.

  "To stay informed. If you end up sleeping with our commander, I probably don't have a future in this squad, and I'd be better off transferring to another."

  That genuinely stung. I hadn't even sorted out my relationship with Katrina, and it was already potentially ruining someone else's prospects. As if I didn't have enough problems without worrying about other people's too.

  "Whatever. Do what you want," she said finally, filling the last bucket. "You saved my life, and demanding anything from you would be too much."

  That didn't make me feel better. If anything, worse.

  "Listen to your heart," she continued. "It'll guide you to the right decision. And don't pay attention to what others think — it's your life, and only you get to run it."

  "You know, I never expected to hear something like that from you," I said, looking at Gera with entirely different eyes. Never would've guessed this seemingly emotionless girl could produce something so lofty — and at her own expense, no less.

  For a couple of moments she stared at me, then blushed. And the next instant she stepped forward and shoved me straight into the water. The depth near the bank was knee-level, but that was more than enough to soak me completely.

  "Hey! That's overkill!"

  "Maybe," she nodded, indifferently watching me clamber out drenched. But before I made it to shore, she unexpectedly shed her clothes and waded in herself, up to her neck.

  "What's gotten into you?" I asked, bewildered, looking at the girl's slender back covered in scars.

  "Seemed like you needed to cool off."

  "And why'd you get in?"

  "I need cooling off too," she answered and disappeared beneath the surface. She was gone for over a minute — I actually panicked and rushed toward the spot, but just as I reached it, Gera surfaced.

  "You okay?"

  "Were you scared?"

  "A little."

  At which Gera gave the faintest of smirks, just with the corners of her lips. It might have been the first time I'd seen her smile.

  "You know, you have a beautiful smile." And Gera really did smile sweetly. If I thought about it, I'd almost never seen her genuinely happy. Most of the time she looked like an emotionless living doll.

  "Thanks," she said, slightly embarrassed, then swam closer and pressed against me.

  "Hey… what are you doing?"

  "If I don't have a future in this squad, then I don't want a debt hanging over me. I may not be as beautiful as Lady Katrina, but I can satisfy a man." And with that she leaned in to kiss me.

  "Wait, hold on… stop."

  She looked at me in surprise.

  "I appreciate you taking debts seriously, but I don't want to be repaid this way. It's just… wrong, I guess."

  I pulled back, releasing her from my arms.

  Gera seemed about to object, or maybe share her opinion, but I never found out what she was going to say, because a loud voice rang out from the bank:

  "Hey! Lovebirds! Can't leave you alone for two minutes! I'm actually a little jealous!"

  It was Rol.

  I was first out of the water, and the kid was grinning like a cat that got the cream. And since Gera was wearing nothing, I had to take decisive action and hurl my wet shirt at the kid. Hit him square in the face, knocking him down. By the time he got up, Gera had climbed out and thrown on her own shirt.

  "What a stud. Wish that were me…" the kid kept sighing.

  "Knock it off. It's not what it looks like."

  "Oh, sure-e-e," he drawled with a smirk. "Gera just happened to be naked and splashing around with you."

  "Think what you want," I sighed, giving up on my friend. No matter what I said, he'd believe what he wanted.

  By the time we returned, Katrina and Günther's argument had concluded. As I gathered, the cause of their little spat was County Karkh, located on the southern border with Trilor. It was the largest of all the counties but the most sparsely populated. The reason remained a mystery to me, since Katrina and Günther hadn't discussed it. But the fact was that several caravans had disappeared in those lands, and the paladin had decided to check this road by making a detour.

  Personally, I wasn't exactly eager to reach Trilor, given what I was. So I supported the girl's idea of lingering on the road — it'd give my body more time to degrade. Perhaps by the time we arrived at Order headquarters, I'd be a completely ordinary human.

  That was precisely why I was so desperately focusing on sword training and magic. And regarding the latter, I was actually making my first real progress. For starters, I'd learned to fill the "blank" spell paper — not instantaneously, but fairly quickly. It took several days of dedicated practice, but I managed. In truth, the first stage of learning energy control was the hardest part; speed came with experience. The more I did it, the better I got. Though at certain points, crushing fatigue would hit me and I'd need breaks of a couple hours.

  My magical training was watched with interest by the other recruits. No surprise — the road was mind-numbingly boring. Forests, fields, forests, fields, the occasional village we barely stopped at, on and on forever. Sometimes lakes or rivers appeared, but mostly forests and fields. So during my magic practice, the whole wagon cheered me on. Especially Rol. The guys celebrated my successes like their own.

  During my breaks, the paper with the magical drawing got passed around, and every recruit tried to channel their energy into it. Nobody succeeded.

  "You're making progress," Günther approved, watching me fill the entire magical pattern in an instant.

  "Agreed," I nodded. "So — will you teach me combat spells? Like a fireball? Or creating a tornado?!"

  "Getting ambitious, aren't we," the mage smirked. "It's not as simple as it looks."

  "Yeah, I know."

  "Good, if you know. Fireballs or tornadoes? Hmm. I don't think you'll learn those anytime soon. I mean, I could teach you the weave, but I'm afraid you'd only hurt yourself. Combat spells are dangerous — without proper control and experience, you shouldn't attempt them."

  "Okay," I nodded. "Then what can you teach me?"

  "Let's first check which element you have an affinity for. That'll make training easier."

  He left and returned a couple of minutes later with a small wooden board bearing a pentagram in the center. Each point of the star held a differently colored gemstone.

  "This is a simplified version of elemental affinity testing."

  "Is there a complex version?"

  "Yes, a more comprehensive one. In reality, there are far more than five elements, but they're either rarely used or forbidden. For beginner training, five suffice: fire, water, earth, air, and light."

  "And the forbidden ones?" I asked, just in case.

  "Darkness, Shadow, Balance," he answered.

  "Balance?" I was intrigued.

  "Balance magic is primarily used by necromancers. You could call it the proto-element for necromancy. It's not inherently dangerous, but certain aspects of the gift can push a person toward dark deeds. You understand — controlling life and death doesn't lead anywhere good."

  He had a point. With a gift like that, someone could easily develop a god complex.

  "And if a person has an affinity for one of the forbidden schools, the test shows nothing?"

  "Not at all," Günther shook his head. "Any mage can use any element. The test shows which one will be easiest to develop. Each element has its own properties and 'personality,' and using one that doesn't suit you is possible but requires far more energy. That's why beginners are advised to start with their natural affinity, and only after achieving significant progress should they slowly try others."

  "Come on, let's see what my element is!"

  "Be more patient. Magic doesn't tolerate haste," the mage said seriously, but placed the device in front of me anyway.

  "What do I do?"

  "Place your finger in the center of the pentagram. The brightest stone will show your element."

  Without dawdling, I placed my finger in the center of the diagram and waited.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Now channel a little energy."

  I complied, and within a moment the pentagram lines began to glow. But nothing happened after that. I waited about a minute for the thing to show me something, then glanced questioningly at Günther.

  "Just wait."

  I looked back at the device. And finally, one of the gemstones lit up — the red one.

  "Hm… interesting. Looks like your element is fire, though not your primary one."

  "One of the forbidden ones?"

  "Most likely. But we won't be determining which. Not here, at least."

  "Fire, then…" I mused.

  Not bad, actually. I'd always associated magic with fireballs and such, so being a fire mage wasn't the worst outcome.

  "It's both good and bad."

  "Why?"

  "Fire magic is quite powerful offensively. But it's hard to control, and learning it as a base element is very difficult."

  "So what do I do?"

  "Learn, but very carefully. I'm serious. Carefully. I've known self-taught mages who burned themselves alive."

  "Understood," I answered as seriously as I could. "I'll be extremely careful."

  "Good," Günther nodded with satisfaction.

  "But seriously, what should I be doing right now?"

  The mage thought about it.

  "I won't let you study fire magic yet. Filling a blank weave is one thing; creating a fully functional spell is something else entirely." He scratched the stubble on his chin, probably deliberating what to teach me.

  "Then?"

  "I think the most useful thing would be to teach you the detection web spell. Or detection net — call it whatever you want, same concept. It lets you detect living beings within a certain radius."

  "What about dead ones?"

  "You can detect the dead, demons, and other creatures too, but that's far more complex. I can only maintain a net like that for about ten minutes, and at a small radius. The more conditions you weave in, the harder it gets."

  Günther pulled out paper and a quill with an inkwell, then drew me a new diagram.

  "Just fill it? Like before?" I clarified.

  "To start with, but that's only the first step. You need to memorize every single stroke."

  "Every single one?" I looked at the genuinely complex diagram.

  "Every one. And here's the manual." The mage handed me another small book. "Page eighty-six. Everything about detection spells starts there. What I drew for you is the base. The outer ring is where you inscribe weaves that control size, duration, and so on."

  "This is intense…" I sighed, opening the book and feeling like a first-grader handed a college physics textbook.

  "Nobody said it'd be easy," he smirked, leaving me alone. "Magic is complicated, and the spell you're learning is one of the simplest."

  The next day was completely boring and routine. I worked on the new weave, but couldn't even fill it with magic. Günther was right — this was nothing like the blank.

  "Not working?" Gera asked, watching my efforts attentively.

  She was about to offer advice when an unexpected order to halt rang out. The recruits exchanged confused looks, and Rol, sitting nearest the exit this time, leaned out to try to see what had stopped us.

  Five minutes passed with no explanation. The squad had apparently found something, but it wasn't clear what. Definitely not bandits — otherwise we'd have heard the battle formation order. And the soldier driving our wagon didn't seem to be observing anything dangerous ahead.

  "Excuse me, coming through."

  "Hey, where are you going?" Rol asked, surprised, when I left the wagon without orders and headed toward the front of the column.

  "I didn't give you permission to disembark," Katrina said with a stern look, which I ignored. What was she going to do? Send me to the mines?

  "I was just curious."

  "I could prescribe a dozen lashes," she said with a sweet smile, and that satisfied smirk made it very clear the paladin wasn't joking. But it went no further than the threat, because Günther called for her.

  Now I understood why the squad had stopped, but no further orders came. Near the road sat several old wagons, somewhat resembling ours. I probably wouldn't have given them a second glance, but Katrina was interested.

  "How long have they been here?" she asked the mage.

  "Hard to say, but definitely no more than two months."

  "Could this be one of the missing caravans?"

  "Inferno only knows," the mage spat, climbing out of the ditch where the wagons sat. "But they didn't end up here by accident. The nearest village is almost a day's travel away, the land's deserted, and I refuse to believe the owners just decided to abandon their transport here."

  "Any trace of cargo?"

  "None. Not a single crate or personal belonging. Empty wagons."

  "If it were just one, I might think the caravan lost a horse and had to abandon a wagon. But three…" Katrina said thoughtfully, looking down into the ditch. And once again I found myself admiring her — until a smack from Günther brought me to my senses.

  "The lad could use a few lashes," the mage smirked, glancing at his commander. "Getting too full of himself."

  "My thoughts exactly," Katrina nodded approvingly, though I caught a barely visible smirk on her lips. Joking, maybe — though knowing her, she might actually order it, perfectly aware of my rapid healing. Wouldn't even need to waste a healing potion.

  "So what do we do?" Günther returned to the main topic.

  "Good question. Do you sense anyone nearby?"

  The mage immediately cast the very spell I'd been struggling to learn. Unfortunately, watching him didn't help me understand it any better.

  "No," he shook his head. "Definitely no people within a five-kilometer radius."

  "Understood. Then we move on. But keep deploying the detection net periodically — there might actually be bandits around."

  "Got it," the mage nodded.

  Katrina then walked up to me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed with enough force to make my bones creak.

  "Maximilian," she began silkily. "If you disobey an order one more time — especially in front of my subordinates — you won't get off with just lashes. The Order has discipline, and whether you like it or not, you will follow it. Clear?"

  "Yes…" I swallowed nervously. Her velvety-sweet tone combined with the painful grip was genuinely frightening. But no less attractive for it. It took an epic act of willpower not to kiss her. And even after she walked away, my heart was still pounding.

  Was I falling in love?

  Damn.

  If so, that was very bad.

  "Maximilian, get back to your wagon or you're walking to the next stop!" Günther shouted, mounting his horse. "If you're not in it before it moves — that's it. You walk!"

  "On my way!"

  Fortunately, I didn't have to walk. Though it was close.

  "Max, you really want a flogging that badly?" Rol asked when I returned.

  "What is it with all of you?" I snapped, reclaiming my spot. "All anyone thinks about is whipping me."

  "Well, it's normal," he said, slightly taken aback by my irritation. "If you don't follow orders, there are consequences. And lashes aren't even the worst of it."

  "There's worse?"

  "Of course," chimed in the soldier driving the wagon, who usually didn't participate in recruit conversations. "Not here specifically, but yes. The worst offenders at Order headquarters get a day in an iron box left out in the open. Scorching during the day, freezing at night. That's the extreme end. There are milder punishments too, though no more pleasant than a flogging."

  "Noted. I'll be more careful," I said, closing my eyes.

  The next unexpected halt came about an hour later. This time I didn't climb out of the wagon — I just leaned out beside the driver and strained my ears as hard as I could. Too much background noise to hear the conversation properly, but I caught the gist.

  Apparently Günther had detected people ahead and alerted us. Katrina ordered the entire column to stay on guard for a possible ambush, though personally I doubted bandits would attack an Order of the Swallow squad. And for a trade caravan, three dozen armed knights made for pretty imposing protection — enough to discourage any bandit from trying.

  Besides, all our wagons bore our crest. To mistake us for merchants, bandits would have to be blind. Or stupid enough not to understand the "pictures." During drinking sessions, Torig had told stories about brain-dead outlaws who'd seriously demanded an Order squad hand over its goods.

  Heeding the warning, the column moved on, but not half an hour later we stopped again — another group of people spotted ahead. Fortunately, they turned out to be simple travelers, more frightened of us than we were of them. Understandable — any merchant would get nervous if an entire platoon of armed soldiers appeared on their path with nobody else around. They could easily be killed, robbed, and no one would ever know.

  Katrina ordered them to stop. Their caravan consisted of just two wagons. I counted three warriors, one man in ordinary clothes, and a woman with a small child.

  The commander had a brief chat with them, then let them go. From scraps of conversation, I learned the traders were coming from a village called Falk, about a week's travel from here. She'd asked about the wagons in the ditch, but the travelers knew nothing.

  Another hour passed. Another stop. More people, but these looked more like peasants. Not much like travelers — too few belongings. But what were they doing on a road many kilometers from the nearest town or village?

  Katrina spoke with them personally, then fell deep into thought. When the peasants went on their way, Günther joined her, and a lively argument ensued.

  "Max, what are you doing over there?" Rol tugged my shirt.

  "Quiet!" I waved him off and tried again to listen. But they were speaking too softly.

  The argument didn't last long. The mage eventually just threw up his hands and walked off, demonstrating that Katrina would do as she pleased regardless.

  The subject of their spat remained a mystery until evening, when we came upon a fork leading left. The road was small and inconspicuous, so the column had to narrow. Some riders were sent ahead; the rest covered the wagons from behind.

  Behind us I spotted Torig, and decided to take the chance to find out what was going on.

  "Hasn't anyone told you that excessive curiosity can put you in a grave?" the swordsman smirked.

  "They have, but that's beside the point," I brushed off his words. "So where are we going?"

  "To check something out. Those peasants we met said some baron lives out here, even though none of our maps show anyone living in this area. The nearest village is still two days away."

  "Huh," I thought about it.

  "It's not unusual. Local rulers sometimes grant a piece of land to a friend or distant relative. But naturally, it doesn't get marked on maps. That's another reason we're here — to survey the estate and make notes on the map."

  "Are we geographers now?"

  "Updated intelligence earns our squad a bonus, so it's worth it. Not to mention we might actually get a proper rest there."

  "They'll just let us in?"

  "Well, if the estate is large enough, quite possibly. But don't count on it — most likely we'll find a small house. At best, they'll give Lady Katrina a room."

  The forest path, more resembling a wide trail, wound through the trees as if stamped out by a crowd of drunks. But before long we emerged onto a broad clearing, at the center of which stood a huge old manor house. Torig was wrong about the small house. It looked very old, and its size exceeded the estate where I'd stayed in Vularian. The owners probably didn't have enough hands to maintain it properly.

  The right wing, where the owners apparently lived, was kept in relatively good condition, but the left wing looked somewhat crooked. The fields around the house weren't empty either — we even spotted several people working the soil. They watched us with mild curiosity but no fear.

  On the porch, a middle-aged woman with aristocratic features greeted us. She somehow reminded me of elves, despite being human. She must have been stunningly beautiful once, and even now, if I were twenty years older, I'd have paid her attention. Even from a considerable distance, I could feel her charm and charisma.

  Beside the woman stood a large, tall man. And him I didn't like — his face was calm, but in the wrong way. Once again the elves came to mind, with their haughty indifference. His build was somewhat startling. He towered two heads above the woman and was nearly twice as wide. A literal mountain of muscle. I had no idea how someone could achieve that physique without steroids.

  Magic, maybe?

  They waited patiently on the porch, showing no fear or displeasure. Remarkable composure. I'd probably get nervous if an entire armed squad showed up at my doorstep.

  Katrina headed toward them first, accompanied by Günther. After a brief pause, the mistress of the estate walked out to meet them. Again, I couldn't hear the conversation, but it didn't last long. And the hostess was maximally friendly.

  Immediately after the chat, Katrina ordered us to unload. As I later understood, the owners had offered to put us up for the night, and we'd continue in the morning. Our commander didn't object — sleeping under a roof beat sleeping outdoors. There was nothing unusual about the offer. Nobility loyal to Trilor often provided various assistance to the Order, and in return could ask favors in the future. Mutually beneficial.

  "Whoa, check out this place," Rol gasped, climbing out.

  "Nothing special," Gera shrugged, glancing at our temporary shelter without much interest. "Just a big old house."

  "Hey, recruits! What are you standing around for? Get to work!" barked one of the warriors, so we had to tear ourselves from admiring the old estate and get to business. We needed to drive the wagons behind the house, then take the horses to the stables and feed them. There were servants in the house ready to handle it, but Katrina assigned the work to us instead.

  The sun was setting by the time we returned. Rol kept marveling at the scale of the property. I couldn't have cared less. So some old aristocrat lived in the middle of nowhere — what was it to me? Gera shared my opinion.

  But I didn't like the house. It looked too creepy and uninhabited. Like I'd become the protagonist of a horror movie. Foolishly, I said something to that effect.

  "Think this place is haunted?"

  "H-haunted?" Rol looked at me in terror, and I barely suppressed a smirk as I decided to run with it.

  "Yeah. I've heard places like this always have ghosts. I knew this one guy who decided to spend the night in a house like this. He lay down to sleep, and felt a nudge on his shoulder. Opened his eyes — nobody there. Time passed, and he got nudged again. Opened his eyes — nobody again." I dropped to a whisper, building the eerie atmosphere. "So the guy couldn't take it anymore. He got up, lit a lant— candle, and started walking through the house. When he reached a big old painting of the house's owner, blood started streaming from the portrait's eyes. The guy panicked, ran for the front door, but when he opened it — instead of the porch, he found the living room! The house wasn't going to let him leave! Ever!"

  "B-b-but…" Rol whimpered, apparently genuinely terrified.

  "Stop scaring him," Gera said reproachfully, yanking my ear.

  "Ow!"

  "Ghosts don't exist," she tried to reassure Rol.

  "If only that were true," Torig chuckled from nearby. "They exist. Very much so!"

  "Really?" Rol asked plaintively.

  "Yep. I don't know about disappearing exits, but ghosts themselves can be very dangerous opponents. Only magic affects them, they can pass through walls, and do plenty of other unpleasant things. But since people live here, there probably aren't any ghosts. And Lady Katrina could easily deal with a spirit using Touch of Light. Ghosts are only dangerous to people without magical ability."

  "Pheeeew…" the kid exhaled in relief.

  Then, after a moment's thought, the warrior added:

  "But that doesn't mean there aren't house sprites! They usually don't show themselves — hide in corners. But sometimes a sprite really doesn't like a particular guest. And then you'd better watch out. The sprite might come at night while you're sleeping and strangle you!"

  Torig spoke with such a serious, knowing air that it was impossible to tell whether he was joking or speaking from experience. Though I leaned toward the former — his eyes looked far too amused.

  Rol, however, had gone white and was nervously swallowing as he listened to the seasoned warrior. I actually felt sorry for the kid. They'd scared him good. I doubted he'd be able to sleep peacefully tonight.

  "That's quite enough nonsense," came an irritated voice nearby. The hostess — the lady of the estate — had approached us. Up close, she didn't look as old. About forty, hardly more. Though the dim lamp lighting might have been flattering. "A grown man, frightening children with fairy tales. There are no house sprites or ghosts in my home."

  "Fear is useful," Torig disagreed. "In our line of work, if you don't stay scared, you can easily lose a limb. Or your head."

  "Be that as it may," his words apparently hadn't convinced her, "I'd ask you to refrain from such stories in my house. It's disrespectful to me."

  "My deepest apologies," the man bowed gallantly and, taking the woman's elegant hand, kissed it. Satisfaction immediately appeared in the hostess's eyes, and she nodded graciously. "I never had any intention of offending you."

  "Very well," she said, lifting her nose proudly, and glided away with all the grace she could muster.

  The Order of the Swallow was housed in the "old" wing, though to me it looked hardly different from the "new" one. Inside, the house looked no better than outside — in places, worse. Floorboards creaked loudly, here and there you could see repair attempts, but for the most part, this wing hadn't even gotten a proper cleaning.

  "Stinks," Rol grimaced once we were inside.

  "Mold," I agreed, sniffing.

  Katrina, as expected, was given a separate room in the better-maintained wing by the hostess. But nobody was particularly bothered — she was the only woman among us. Well, aside from Gera, though nobody really treated her as a woman. Even in training she got no special treatment, and rightly so — demons didn't care about your gender. And Katrina had long since earned her privileges through deeds.

  But at least they fed us fantastically. Juicy meat with gravy and potatoes. Yes, they had potatoes here. Slightly different, but unmistakably potatoes.

  Having stuffed ourselves, we distributed ourselves among the rooms. There weren't enough beds for everyone, naturally, so many had to sleep on the floor. But the soldiers weren't particularly bothered, given they often slept outdoors.

  The warriors conked out fairly quickly. Even Rol, who'd supposedly been scared of the house and our ghost stories, passed out the instant his head hit the pillow. Our room held me, Gera, Rol, and three more soldiers. By unanimous decision, the old bed went to Gera. She didn't hesitate and accepted almost immediately.

  In the middle of the night, I was woken by a noise coming from somewhere outside. At first I couldn't make out what I was hearing, but I quickly realized it sounded like someone screaming. Lifting my head, I saw everyone sleeping exactly as before.

  "Imagining things?" I muttered, but heard nothing more. I was about to lie back down when I distinctly heard someone screaming again. I got to my feet, walked to the window, and couldn't believe my eyes. A naked girl was running across the field, and chasing her was that same giant who'd been standing with the mistress of the house.

  The girl was faster, but the brute found a solution. He scooped a small rock off the ground and hurled it at her, hitting her square in the head. She tumbled mid-stride and rolled across the ground.

  No-o-o! This was not normal! It felt like I'd landed in a horror movie, not a world of magic and elves.

  First I tried to wake Rol, who was lying nearby. But he didn't respond to any of my attempts. I even slapped him, but he kept sleeping like the dead. I switched to Gera, but the girl was unresponsive too.

  "What the hell?"

  This was bizarre. Gera was an incredibly light sleeper — she normally woke at the slightest sound. But now, nothing worked.

  I couldn't wake a single person in the room! This was clearly abnormal, given that I'd repeatedly noticed Katrina's soldiers sleeping "with one eye open," ready to leap up and prepare for battle instantly.

  Returning to the window, I saw nobody — neither the girl nor the giant. Even the screams now seemed like a dream. But I was certain I hadn't imagined it.

  Since I couldn't wake my comrades, I'd have to figure out what was happening on my own. I'd also try to reach Günther or Katrina. Maybe they were still awake.

  The corridor was just as dark, and the floorboards betrayed me with every creak. I had to exert serious effort to minimize noise. I didn't know who the owners of this house really were, and engaging them without preparation wasn't advisable. What if the baroness turned out to be a dark mage? There was something about her… something dark and mystical. Vampire powers were great, but abandoning caution was not.

  I'd nearly reached the room where Günther was supposed to be sleeping when I heard footsteps nearby, followed by a hushed conversation. Pressing against the wall, I crept toward the speakers, listening carefully.

  "Hike, what were those screams?" The hostess, apparently.

  "One escaped from the basement," the giant answered in a rumbling voice. Reaching the turn leading to the main hall, I peeked around the corner and saw the two of them.

  "Bad," she shook her head. "I thought one of the knights had woken up."

  "They shouldn't have. Burga added sleeping potion to the food. They should sleep until morning."

  "Anything can happen," she disagreed. "Of all things, the damn Order had to show up here…"

  "What do we do with them?"

  "I don't know!" the woman snarled. "We could kill them, but then others might come looking."

  "Their commander is a paladin. She's… valuable."

  "And far too pretty," the hostess snorted. "But you're right, and the mage could be sold to Yundor through your uncle. We could renovate the estate while we're at it. And can you imagine — those pathetic creatures said our house is haunted!"

  Hearing this, the man laughed heartily. His laughter made my skin crawl.

  "Enough chatter. Drag the girl to the basement. And have a word with Viktor — this is the third escape this month. What if she'd gotten out before the potion took effect? We'd have had serious problems! Ugh. Anyway, once you've taken her down, deal with the rest. Move them to the basement, and we'll sort it out from there."

  "Done," the man nodded and, grabbing the unconscious, bloodied girl, dragged her away.

  At that moment, the hostess whipped around toward my hiding spot, but I was faster — I ducked behind the corner and held my breath.

  Shit! Shitty shit!

  Why did I keep ending up in situations like these? They'd apparently decided to simply kill — or worse — my comrades. And obviously, I was not going to let that happen.

  I needed to drink blood, but where would I get it? Cut one of my comrades? Not a bad option — I doubted anyone would notice a couple of scratches. But on the other hand, I really didn't want to use human blood. My body was going through something strange after the elven blood, and it would be best to let it return to a fully human state. And I'd been drinking too much blood lately — that was a fast track to becoming a full vampire. Because that's exactly how it happens: first you drink blood only in extreme situations, then before every serious encounter, and eventually you become exactly what you'd decided not to become. That wouldn't do.

  Sure, I was still stronger than a regular human, but right now I didn't think I was physically stronger than that giant.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Okay, calm down, Max. Calm.

  I took control of my fear and shoved it to the edges of my consciousness.

  They weren't demons — just people. If I tried hard enough, I could handle them without vampiric abilities. Consider it a test of willpower. Proof that I could survive in this world as a human, not a blood-sucking monster.