The town was quite similar to Khladnetz. Unlike cities of Kinani, where streets were straight and organized, usually running along canals, buildings were placed chaotically here. Ymdaton imagined that the settlement began with the central plaza and a circle of houses around it. Later, a circle more appeared, and so on as the city grew. There were of course several roads leading from the center to the walls, but other than that walkways were arranged messily. They would probably look as cracks on a damaged piece of glass, when seen at the bird's-eye view.

The city swarmed with warriors. Some were armed, some wore everyday clothes yet still were noticeable for their pace and bearing. Many of them scanned Ymdaton with curious glances. His shield bore an emblem of a maple seed. Lulaton told him that it was a popular symbol among Drevlyani bastards, and bastards were so common among mercenaries that no one would ever get interested in his name or origin. Crewslayer did not feel as safe now. He constantly had a feeling that something in him raises suspicion among the townsmen, that they glare at his back as he passes by.

He began avoiding crowded streets, threading more on back alleys. There was much less noise also, only the muffled sounds of people at the principal roads, or someone oсasionally doing housework at the backyard. That is why when Ymadton heard grunts, screams of pain and noises of someone taking the beating just around the corner, that was a surprise.

He quickened his pace and walked into the scene of five men kicking a single unlucky one who was lying on the snow. Without thinking for too long, Crewslayer made a few steps toward them, intentionally rattling with his armour for all to hear.

Men stopped and looked at him.

“We catched a traitor, a poisoner of minds!” said one of them excitedly.

Ymdaton did not answer anything. He made a single step towards them, his hand upon the shaft of his axe. Enthusiasm on the faces of men changed into disturbance.

“He is the enemy of the city, he preaches the ways of conquerors from over the sea!” spat the same man, now with less confidence in his voice.

Another step was made by Crewslayer. Men traded wary looks. Another slow step. Citizens lost their composure totally and ran off each in the different direction. The Kinani warrior did not make any other movement, he stayed where he was, looking at them fleeting with a smile.

The beaten man picked himself up slowly. He was past prime years, scrawny, with a receding hairline, yet his hair that still persisted was long and curly. He was obviously in pain, his clothes were messed up, but instead of grabbing a hurt limb, or brushing snow from his body, first thing that he did was to pick up a musical instrument that was on the ground few steps away. It was a string one, shaped like an onion cut in half. The man carefully inspected it, caressing the thing like a newborn child.

“It is a miracle that they did not break it,” sighed the man.

“What is your name?” asked Ymdaton, “How did you anger them that much?”

“You are not drevlyani,” said the man, piercing him with a look.

Ymdaton cursed silently. He failed to avoid the single thing that could break his disguise.

“Listen,” said he, “I did you a favor. Do me a favor by not questioning my identity.”

“That does not matter anyway,” the man shrugged his shoulders, “You are a good man. That is more important than the blood or a birthplace. My name is Radoslav. I am a singer and a musician. You see, our town became nervous lately. Hate towards men from the islands that reside in Khladnetz takes frenzied forms. People jump at slightest signs of dissent. I’ve heard that I am not the only one to be punished in this way. When in truth I was only telling a story which my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were telling, the story about human will and power, not related to current events in any way.”

“What story?”

“The story of this house,” Radoslav pointed over his shoulder with a thumb.

At first Crewslayer did not understand what the musician meant. But then it struck him: the house was built not out of logs, but huge gray bricks. It was the first stone building that Ymdaton saw in Dreavlyani cities. If there was a source of stone to build walls somewhere in Odwitchni, then Azytenisar should be informed of it.

“I’d like to hear this story too,” said he.

The singer glanced at the snow under his feet. It was covered in blood, his blood.

“Perhaps in some more cozy place I’d sing for you,” told he.

The musician led him through the city, avoiding crowded places. Soon reached a fenced area along the city wall. Upon entering, Ymdaton saw countless wooden posts and statues standing in rows on the ground..

“That’s not exactly the place I imagined,” shrugged Crewslayer, “It is a graveyard, isn’t it?”

Radoslav nodded, and moved forth among graves.

“I saw many cemeteries through my life,” said Ymdaton. He considered his next words, then continued anyway, knowing that the musician probably saw through his disguise already, “My people do not bury, we send our dead to the western shore. Yet other nations that I’ve encountered always placed graveyards behind the walls. What’s the matter with you?”

“It is to protect their sleep from the forest,” answered the singer without much surprise being heard in his voice.

“So they do not walk again?”

“That is far from the worst scenario.”

The musician stopped before a carved figure of a man, one and a half lifesize. The wooden man was sitting on the ground, with a similar string instrument at his side. Radoslav sat on the lap of the statue and hit the strings. Ymdaton leaned against a wooden pole nearby and listened. The music was not the most sophisticated or beautiful that he heard, yet instrument’s wailing notes reached for the heart. Soon the Kinani warrior became immersed in the song.

There was a man once in the city

Who lost all that he had to flames

In grief he fled into the forest

And cried out to the groves

O mighty forest, please consume me

For I have nothing to live for

Odwitchni stepped forth to answer

Revealing its visage of dread

With horns and eyes abyssal black

Shaking the ground with mighty tread

And spoke to him who was in mourning

I won't devour you, but instead

I'll gift you with a house full new

The kind of which no man yet saw

Enjoy it for three years before

I come to take a payment

For an errand that I'm doing now

The man returned to the town

And lo, there was a house new

Right in the ashes of his lost estate

Of walls solid and grey

Built of the bones of earth

Like no Drevlyani saw before

And there he lived for whole three years

Until a fearsome storm came down to Velmytop

At the beginning of the fourth