"Alright, Luck, that's it, I'm going to sleep," Zenkhald exhaled, dropping onto the rocks. "I only have two hours left to sleep, and then we head outside and drag ourselves to the base."
"Oka-a-ay," the little Goddess yawned sweetly in her mask.
They simply lay down right there, on the cold floor of the cave.
RIIIIIING! The chanical tir rang so vilely and loudly that the dead monsters could have twitched their ears. Luck imdiately covered her ears with her palms and curled into a ball. Zenkhald, however, continued to lie serenely, as if not noticing the sound.
BANG! The tir exploded, leaving a smoldering fist-sized hole on Zenkhald's chest. The Grandmaster sat up abruptly, looking mournfully at the ruined clothes. "Oh, man... Gotta change the robe again. It's like this every week—either the boots tear, or the clothes."
Luck sleepily rubbed her eyes with a little fist: "It was high ti to throw it away. You already had moss starting to sprout on the hem."
"It wasn't sprouting!" Zenkhald was indignant. "I was giving it a chance! Imagine, a cloak made of moss? How comfortable it would be to sleep in the forest! Soft!"
He got up and looked around. "Hm-m-m. Strange. No one is praising . No one is showering
with gifts. Where did those two losers go? Alright, this cave has exhausted my attention. We're leaving."
Zenkhald touched the girl's shoulder. Pop! And they were on the surface, squinting from the bright sun.
"I heard that they finally launched a railway line across the State of Slick. Where can it be found?"
Luck spun in place and confidently poked a finger into the distance: "We-e-ell, it was sowhere over there!"
"Are you going to walk, or coming with ?"
"Will you carry
on your back?" she began with a smile.
Zenkhald rolled his eyes, sighed, and crouched down: "Get on."
"YEE-HAW! HORSEY!" Luck plopped onto his back with a running start, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck. "Horsey, forward!"
"I AM NOT YOUR HORSEY!" Zenkhald barked, standing up.
"Quiet now! Horsey's don't talk!"
"THEY VERY MUCH DO!"
"If you don't obey, I'll eat you!" she made what she thought was a scary face.
"What else is there to do," he mumbled.
Pop! Pop! Two flashes of teleportation, and they were already standing above the clouds. Then one more jump, and they materialized right on the stone platform of a station. Below, puffing steam, a train slowly drove by. Toot-toot! It was a freight train, loaded to the brim with coal.
Zenkhald, without thinking twice, jumped right into the open coal car. Luck flew after him.
They plopped into the black dust.
"Zenkhald!" the girl was indignant, spitting. "Couldn't you teleport into a normal, passenger car?!"
"Do you have money?" he asked. "Passenger trains are for the rich."
Luck shoved her hand sowhere deep under her robe, rummaged there, and unperturbedly pulled out a huge, thick wad of paper bills. She importantly fanned herself with them, like a fan. "Actually, I am rich."
"Uuuuuh?! Where did you get so much?!" Zenkhald's eyes bugged out. "Did you rob soone?"
"Why imdiately assu I stole it?!" Luck took offense. "This is actually our salary! It's just that I have nothing to spend it on. On the mountain they feed us for free, housing is free, business trips are paid for. And if I ask for sothing in the city—everyone gives it to
for free anyway, because I'm cute!"
"Salary?" Zenkhald squinted suspiciously. "I haven't seen it a single ti."
Luck burst into a ringing laugh, hiding the money back. "Aha-ha-ha-ha! Well, of course! You are still paying off your debts!"
"I DON'T HAVE ANY DEBTS!" he was indignant. "And who even gives you this money?"
"Well yeah, you just go to the treasurer, show your ID and that's it, they give you a little bag."
"AND THAT'S IT?! So simple?!"
Luck patted the coals: "While we're riding, let's play?"
"Play what? Word chain? Boring."
"No! Golem war!"
Zenkhald smiled predatorily. He slamd his palm against the uneven pile of coal. The black pieces trembled and suddenly smoothed out perfectly, forming a flat field, and a small coal wall grew in the middle of the car, dividing their territories. Zenkhald jumped to his half and imdiately began to quickly mold sothing with his hands out of coal dust and small stones. Luck was also enthusiastically digging on her side.
"Mwah-ha-ha-ha!" Zenkhald laughed evilly to himself. "She hasn't seen my trump monster yet! Bulbedok! I nad it that in honor of... I don't rember in honor of what, but it sounds scary. According to the rules of the ga, it's forbidden to make golems larger than twenty centiters in length and width. Trench monsters cannot go deeper than thirty centiters. Flying higher than fifty centiters is prohibited. Strict rules! Because last ti we molded such giants that we almost blew the mountain away. Reviving the fallen is not allowed! Maximum 25 units! BUT! No one forbade necromancy! Aha-ha-ha-ha! I molded 10 underground worms, 10 necromancers, and 5 ordinary skeletons for the crowd. If Luck played better, I would have made them stronger, but alas, she can't be beaten dry, otherwise she gets offended and cries. The main rule—the figures must be completely autonomous. But for Luck I made an exception: she is allowed to control five manually."
"TI!" Zenkhald shouted exactly thirty minutes later.
The coal partition lowered. Zenkhald looked at the enemy army. The girl had five neat triangular pyramids and twenty small griffins hovering. "Well, ain't that a..." Zenkhald muttered. "Alright, the worms will jump high enough. LET'S BEGIN!"
His coal worms imdiately burrowed down, and Luck's griffins swooped down on his necromancers. One worm jumped out from under the coal, trying to grab a griffin, but a flock imdiately swooped down on it, scratching its coal skin.
"Hey!" Zenkhald cheered. "Grab him by the wing and smash him into the ground!"
The necromancers hastily healed the damaged worms. But Zenkhald was alard by Luck's pyramids—they just stood in place. After ten minutes of a heated battle, one necromancer and three battered worms remained on the coal field against four griffins and five intact pyramids. Zenkhald was losing.
"Listen, Zenkhald, do you even believe in ?" Luck suddenly asked, dangling her legs.
"In what sense?"
"Well, I am the Goddess of Luck. Will you pray to
for luck?"
"I BELIEVE NOT IN LUCK, BUT IN A MIRACLE!" he declared proudly.
"It's the sa thing!"
"Not the sa thing!"
"The sa!"
"Not the sa!"
At that mont, Zenkhald's last worm twisted and bit the last griffin in half. But the necromancer had already crumbled to dust. And then sothing strange happened. The bases of the pyramids suddenly rose into the air, turned toward the lone worm, and... fired thin beams, like lasers!
"HEY! HEY! HEY!" Zenkhald yelled. "Worm, dodge!"
The worm, feeling the vibration, frantically jumped on the coal. Zenkhald gritted his teeth. "Well, I'm slightly breaking the rules of autonomy... I'll help him!" His worm heroically pushed off to ram at least one pyramid and take it with him. He was only a centiter from the target, when suddenly...
BOOM! Luck's pyramid simply exploded on its own, blowing the worm to splinters!
"A-A-A-A! YOU PLAYED UNFAIRLY!" Zenkhald was indignant. "Those were kamikazes!"
"Just like you! You were controlling the worm!" Luck stuck out her tongue.
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They looked at each other and laughed ringingly. The ga had tired both of them. They leaned back on the pile of coal and fell asleep to the rhythmic clatter of wheels.
An hour passed. Zenkhald felt a pleasant heat baking from below. "M-m-m... What a warm floor..." he muttered through his sleep. He half-opened his eyes. And imdiately threw them wide open. "A-A-A-A-A! THE CAR IS ON FIRE!"
From the magic lasers and explosions, the coal in their car had flared up quite nicely. "LUCK! RUN!" Zenkhald grabbed the sleepy girl by the scruff of the neck, and with a running start, they jumped into the neighboring, non-burning car.
"Phew... barely survived," Zenkhald wiped sweat and soot from his forehead. "Luck, why didn't you put out the fire?!"
"A-a-ah... I forgot," she squeaked guiltily. And so they rode the whole way, watching a whole car of coal blaze behind them, illuminating the night path like a giant torch.
When they arrived dirty at the final station and went into the city, they were, naturally, detained by the local guards. For damage to state property, all that thick wad of money was confiscated from Luck, and they were reprimanded for a long ti.
"U-u-uh... Zenkhald... well, I didn't an to!" the little Goddess sobbed loudly, saring dirty tears across her grimy face. "It caught fire on its own! Why did they scold ? I didn't want to do anything bad!"
She cried so bitterly that Zenkhald felt sorry for her. A piece of cake appeared in his hand.
"Here, eat," he shoved the sponge cake to her.
"Huh?" her tear-stained eyes instantly glead. The girl grabbed the piece of cake and, without even wiping her hands, simply stuffed half the piece into her mouth, getting even more sared in cake and coal.
"Wait, chew slower," he sighed. "You're going to get scolded again on the Mountain for your appearance. And don't tell anyone how we traveled."
"But if Aurora or Mira ask ... I'll tell. I don't want to lie!" she mumbled with a full mouth.
"Well, then tell them. I don't care what they tell . Almost," Zenkhald lied. "The main thing is, don't cry."
Grubby and stinky, they approached the main gates of Mount Slick.
"HALT!" ard guards blocked their path. "Who are you and why have you co, vagrants?!"
"VAGRANTS?!" Zenkhald said.
One of the guards poked him in the shoulder with a musket: "Yeah, you reek of burning and garbage from a ter away! You're all black from coal! The cloak is all covered in sli and dirt, and you've got a lump of soot on your head! Co on, get out of here!"
Luck, confident that this didn't apply to her, a small and cute Goddess, tried to walk past.
"HEY! WE'RE ACTUALLY TALKING TO THE TWO OF YOU!" the second guard barked, blocking her path with a gun.
Zenkhald took a confident, pretentious step forward, proudly tossing his dirty chin: "Actually, standing before you is the Great Grandmaster and the Goddess of Luck! I demand to be let through!"
The guards looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"Luck, show them!" Zenkhald commanded.
"Show what?" she didn't understand.
"Well... show them the paper proving how cool you are!"
"But they took it along with the money for the fine..." the girl muttered guiltily.
"That's it, runts, get out of here!" the guard lost patience. "This is Mount Slick, an elite place! Clearly not for you. Go on, go on!"
"HEY! HEY! WE'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" Zenkhald was indignant.
They stubbornly stood at the main gates for a whole hour. And then luck smiled upon them—Aurora was approaching the gates. Clean, elegant, she was just about to go inside.
"AURORA! AURORA!" Zenkhald waved his hands joyfully. "Tell them to let us in! We are your people!"
Aurora stopped at the gates. She slowly turned around, asured the two grimy ragamuffins slling of burning and swamp sli with a disdainful look. A malicious smirk appeared on her face. She turned to the captain of the guard and loudly ordered: "Under no circumstances let these scoundrels in."
"YES, MA'AM!" the guards stood at attention. Aurora disappeared behind the gates.
"U-u-u-uh..." was all Zenkhald could produce, following her with his gaze. Well, that's... He looked at Luck. The girl looked at him.
"Alright, Zenkhald," Luck sighed heavily, wiping soot from her mask. "Let's go through the inside."
"AGAIN?!" he groaned. "But it's so cold there!"
"Do you have any other options?"
There were no options.
Half an hour later. In the blacksmith district of Mount Slick. BANG! Two black, soot-sared lumps tumbled out of the chimney of a huge, idle furnace.
"Phew..." Zenkhald coughed, spitting out ashes. "Good thing this furnace is almost never used!"
"Yeah..." Luck said, wiping her mask, which made the soot sar even more evenly.
Zenkhald, together with Luck, entered the small hall of the Council. Only five mbers were present today. The man sitting opposite the empty tenth chair readied a quill and parchnt. "Co on, tell us. I'm writing."
Zenkhald shrugged: "So, basically, I cleared the cave in three hours there. Well, and that's it, like that."
The man sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose: "Grandmaster... Usually a report on clearing a dungeon consists of at least three pages of detailed text."
"IT'S JUST ALL FLUFF THERE! What's there to tell?" Zenkhald was indignant. "Went in, walked around, pew-pew-boom, and that's it!"
"Alright... How many floors were there in total?"
"Don't rember."
"What monsters did you encounter along the way? Describe each floor."
"There... well... Oh, right! Uh, all I rember: on the last floor, a huge monster that gives birth to other monsters tried to run away from ."
"Run away?!"
"Yep. What, didn't you know they could do that?"
The man put down the quill. "Alright. You may go."
Zenkhald had already turned to the exit when another mber, a man, couldn't take it: "HALT! Even though you are of a higher rank, you bring sha upon us! You hold the status of Grandmaster, you must uphold it!"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Luck nodded actively, standing nearby.
"You don't even understand what he's scolding
for," Zenkhald squinted at her.
"Yes!" Luck confird again readily.
"You should be an object for emulation!" the mage continued to reprimand. "You are our face!"
Zenkhald slowly turned around. His voice lost all its lazy cheerfulness and beca cold: "Hey, hey, hey, man. Don't lie to
here. I endure everything silently as it is. To you, I am nothing but power. A tool. A weapon that can be thrown into a hopeless hot spot where you yourselves don't want to dirty your hands. I don't even complain about it. So let's skip the fairy tales about the 'face'."
They left the Council and returned to their room.
"Phew, finally I can take off this mask," Luck exhaled with relief, pulling the mask off her face. "Yeah, you're right, and the glasses can be taken off too," Zenkhald tossed his thick adventurer goggles onto the table.
Luck stared at him with curiosity.
"Wow... Your right eye is completely amber, and the pupil is black and narrow, like a predator's. And the left is pink with a red pupil. You just reek of magic. True, it looks ugly."
"Look at yourself," Zenkhald chuckled. "You have unusual eyes too: solid blackness instead of whites and bright blue pupils."
"Well, that's why I wear a mask, so there are fewer questions. Just like you!" the girl answered with a smile.
"That's for sure. As soon as they see the eyes, they'll latch on and won't let go."
Luck shoved her hand into the folds of her clothes and pulled out a thin book. "By the way, Zenkhald, look what book I bought! Let's read!"
"Ah, let's. Hang on, hang on, I have to see what the book is about."
Zenkhald waved his hands. Magic responded obediently: fine sand soared from the floor and hung in the air, forming a three-dinsional, living projection. The pictures from the book seed to co alive in 3D. "So, it says here: 'Once upon a ti in a city lived a man. Uncouth, ugly, a potato nose, a long forehead, asymtrical ears. And on his left eye—a black dot,'" Zenkhald read while the sand molded the figure of the main character.
"EWWW!" Luck grimaced, looking at the sandy freak. "Let's give him..." she began to move her little hands in the air, like a puppeteer manipulating the sandy object. "Fix the ears... fix the eyes... and remove the dot. I see freaks every day outside the book too!"
"That's insulting, actually," Zenkhald hissed.
"Nah, I'm already used to you!" she waved it off.
"Uh, that's even more insulting! Alright, let's move on."
The sandman began to move. "'The man worked in a local forge. Once a week he drank until he passed out,'" Zenkhald read, frowning. "Okay, this is already strange." But he continued moving the picture: the sandy blacksmith entered a tavern and began to drink.
"'One day, when the man was drinking himself into a stupor with his friends, another person entered the tavern—in white attire, combed, well-grood. Evil thoughts possessed the main character: what did this arrogant, haughty rich man forget here? Why is he looking down on us?'"
At that mont, Luck was staring fixedly at the sand screen.
"'The blacksmith rose from the table, walked up to the well-grood man and shoved him in the shoulder: "You look down on us! On ordinary workers! How are you better than us?!" The man calmly took a step back and answered: "I am no different from you. The sa two arms, two legs. We drink in the sa establishnt. You and I are the sa." "No! You're dressed better than us! You... "'"
Zenkhald stumbled. The sandy picture froze. "What's wrong, Zenkhald?" Luck didn't understand.
"It kinda... has curse words now. Alright, we'll skip that. 'The man listened to everything and answered: "If you do not know, then I work as a blacksmith just like you, right across from you. For five years now. You and I are absolutely the sa."'"
Zenkhald read further, and the sand showed how the blacksmith fell to his knees: "'At that mont, it was as if a hamr struck the hero. His knees trembled, and an answer ca to his mind. Life is not to bla. It is not fate that he is in such a state. And not the boss, who, as it seed to him, belittled him. For at the very beginning, the boss even praised him for his talent. He himself is to bla for everything. He himself was lazy. He himself lost himself...'" OKAY, STOP!
Zenkhald tore his eyes from the text. "Is this definitely a fairy tale?!"
"Well, the librarian said that such things only happen in fairy tales," Luck answered.
Zenkhald quickly flipped a few pages forward. "Revolution?! Politics?! Murders?! THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT A FAIRY TALE! Okay, we're not reading this."
"What's there?" the girl reached out.
"It's clearly not a fairy tale. Put the book back, let's just continue the plot ourselves for now."
"Yeah, okay! Hm-m-m... Oh, I know! The well-grood man will give our hero money, and he will wash his face every day!" Luck waved her hands, and the little sandman started washing his face. "And at work he will labor like before! Even better! He will start creating because he loves his work!"
On the picture, the sandy blacksmith drew a diagram of a chest and carved beautiful patterns on it. Then Luck stumbled. She pulled a coin from her pocket, flipped it, caught it, looked at the result and smiled: "They will get an order from the king himself, and he will have lots and lots of money! The end! Darn it, Zenkhald, the fairy tale is over. I don't like making things up, you are better at it."
"Alright, Luck, ti to sleep." While she turned away, Zenkhald took the book again and casually read a couple of pages of the real plot. 'The well-grood man gave money to the blacksmith. Life got better. But the well-grood man was slowly pulling him into his party to complete a revolution against the king, and during an order, the blacksmith was supposed to betray the monarch...'
What the...? Zenkhald sighed. Seems like she already read this book to the end herself, got upset, and just wanted to rewrite the ending.
"Yeah, so-so fairy tale," a voice suddenly rang out from the doors. Aurora stood, silently watched the crumbling sand, and, without saying another word, left. She's always like this, Zenkhald thought. Cos in, watches our fairy tales, and leaves.
Luck walked up to Zenkhald: "Aren't you going to wash?"
"Kinda too lazy. I'm going to slee-e-ep..."
She ca up from behind and began to actively scratch his black hair with both hands.
"A-a-a-a-ah... bliss..." he drew out, closing his eyes. But from under his head, right from where she was scratching, soot, coal dust, and so small debris from the train spilled onto the floor.
"A-A-AH! My hands! They turned black!" Luck was surprised, looking at her soiled palms.
"TO THE SHOWER, NOW!"
"I'll wash tomorrow..." he waved it off lazily, flopping onto the bed.
"Well, okay. Just put on the chain! You'll be flying around the room in your sleep again!"
"Yeah-yeah-yeah... Or maybe without it? Just close the door."
"Well, okay," Luck sighed, wiping her hands. "Just don't complain later if you hit the ceiling."
"And when have I ever complained? Alright, sleep."
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