Ymdaton left the building alongside the crowd. He stopped on the outside and looked across the snowy plaza. Men were walking past him, but Crewslayer did not pay attention. He glared at the massive building with three walls that stood on the other side of the square. Some argued that it should have been wiped from the face of the city. Azytenisar forbidden it. It is impossible to build dominion by erasing the past, he said.

It was a place where once rested the creature called the protector. What kind of being was it, wondered Ymdaton. Long since gone, it still did strike fear into the hearts of men by very memories of itself. Could it be defeated by blade? Could it be defeated at all? To slay such a thing would have been a sure way to become immortal in songs.

“Aren’t you coming back to our lodging?” Abimnupal dragged him out of his thoughts.

“I want to take a walk,” made a forced smile Crewslayer, “To work on my stamina, you know.”

“I see,” laughed his comrade and slapped him on the shoulder, “Later, then.”

Ymdaton did just as he said. He wandered the streets of Khladnetz aimlessly for awhile. At some point he encountered a group of boys playing. Half of them were hiding behind a wall built of snow. The other half was trying to suppress the defenders with snowballs so that they could proceed with a siege. Crewslayer recalled his defeat in the morning and grimaced. Next moment he saw a familiar face among the attackers. He stopped the boy with a gesture.

“You,” said he to the boy who was obviously unhappy with being distracted from the game, “You are a bakhmat herder’s son, aren’t you? You have two brothers, your mother and father moved into the city this fall.”

“Yep,” answered the boy, glancing at the battle nervously.

“Wish your mom well. Say the warrior remembers her fairytale,” upon saying this Ymdaton quickly made a snowball and launched it at one of the defenders, knocking him from his feet. The boy nodded and with a laugh ran back to the wall.

“Training for war, are we?” heard Ymdaton a chuckle from behind. He turned to see the face like that of a pigeon.

“Now what do you want? Were you following me?”

“Not without a purpose, mind you,” smiled Azandahy in a surprisingly sincere way, “Let’s continue your walk together.”

Ymdaton moved, giving his silent agreement.

“I came to tell you something. Tomorrow you will be approached by a man loyal to Sumiaton,” Ymdaton noticed that the warrior squinted his eyes in displeasure upon saying the name, “Someone whom you probably know already. He will ask you to join hunter’s efforts at the lake road. Do refuse. I talked to old Lulaton after the meeting. Seek him first and hear what he has to say before agreeing to anything.”

“You are not the strong supporter of the venator, are you?” asked Ymdaton in the especially serious tone.

“Neither are you,” answered Azandahy, ignoring the sarcasm, “I saw the look on your face when he bragged about gold mines.”

“I felt wronged when my dirty part in the matter was not mentioned,” sighed Ymdaton, “But what is your issue?”

“I believe that there should be but one authority above us: lord of the house. We acquire glory for Abeneewy and through it gain the glory for ourselves,” Azandahy looked Crewslayer straight in the eyes searching for reaction. Ymdaton shown none.

The man continued, “He lives the other way. He surrounded himself with a clique. With those who will do his bidding before Azytenisar’s. With their help he builds the fame of his own, shoving it into the faces of others at every step. No matter how successful he is, it still smacks of insubordination to me. And I’d rather have you as a subordinate to true lord.”

“I got you, but why do you care that much about me all of a sudden,” shrugged his shoulders Ymdaton, “I thought you didn’t like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Azandahy, “I may dislike you. You are uncooperative, selfish, rash, but you are still a phenomenal warrior. You’ve broke champions and monsters of this land many times already. We need men like you in service to Azytenisar, not running errands for the venator.”

Ymdaton was silent.

“Well then, I have business elsewhere,” added the crewman, “Remember, meet Lulaton tomorrow. I hope you will make the right decision,” he made a spread fingers gesture and left.

Next day Crewslayer followed the advice. He left Dragomir’s house early and headed for Lulaton’s lodging. Just at the end of the street he met Ahyq.

“Greetings, friend,” said the warrior with a smile, “Where did you go yesterday just after the meeting? I wanted to talk to you, yet you did not return to merchant’s house.”

“I was busy,” answered Ymdaton, carefully choosing words, “Just as I am now. So be quick about your matter, please.”

“Well,” Ahyq made a curious face, “I’ll cut it straight then. Will you join venator’s efforts at the lake road?”

“What can I say,” Crewslayer paused for quite some time, “I believe in the possibility of war much more than he does. I am intending to apply my efforts elsewhere.”

“Are you sure? I thought you were quite good at subduing forces of the forest. We will need men like you there. Fame will be won there.”

“Fame is not always the only measure,” said Ymdaton, turning his gaze aside, “Now excuse me, I am in a hurry.”

As Ymdaton left, Ahyq did not try to stop him, only glared at his back with interest.

Lulaton was given a honour to live beside knez, in a four storey high building in the center of the city, painted and adorned with carvings. Ymdaton was led by serfs to the room at the third floor, where the old one was said to be residing.

He was met by a man dressed in a dark red tunic, atop of it he was clad in a purple mantle with golden geometrical pattern at its edges. On man’s head was a conical hat, the top of which was pulled forward slightly. His wrists were adorned with many thin golden bracers. His beard was of dirty blonde colour.

“Good day,” the man greeted Crewslayer with heavy accent, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Explain what are you doing here in three breathes, or I will gut you, tyrsenoi scum,” said Ymdaton in a low voice.