Not long after meeting Ahyq, Ymdaton acquired a mount for few coins at public stables. He rode the bakhmat out of city gates and to the very forest’s edge. Then he followed the treeline, intending to meet the patrol eventually. The greenness was riddled with logging sites, stumps covering the empty ground for hundred and more steps into the woods. Such demand of timber came not only from wealth of the city rising under Azytenisar’s rule. Wooden forts were being built at the principal roads, bolstering defences, as Sumiaton has advised.

He ran into Paltisumas’ squad after traversing about tenth of border’s length. The leading warrior saw him from afar, greeting Crewslayer with a spread fingers of a risen palm. Ymdaton returned the gesture and then turned around, slowing the pace of his steed. Patrolling warriors catched up with him soon. The force was a motley one: some crewmen, some militia and a man of High Crew at the head.

“Good day, Crewslayer,” said Paltisumas, guiding his mount to ride alongside Ymdaton, “I take it that you have some urgent business, since you rode out searching for us at the border.”

“Not that urgent, but pretty important,” answered Crewslayer, “How is your watch going? Got bored yet?”

“Well, it’s not the most breathtaking task that I’ve had. It’s not the shallowest either. Few days ago, for example, we hunted down a thing of the forest which stifled sleeping lumberjacks by sitting at their chests. It put a ferocious fight.”

“Interesting,” uttered Ymdaton, trying not to rash conversation with his request, “To tell the truth, I’ve came to offer you an opportunity to cleanse woods some more. I’ve heard that your shift ends soon.”

“It is so. What do you propose?”

Crewslayer explained his task once again. Paltisumas was silent for quite some time. Ymdaton feared that he will refuse too.

“I will help,” finally answered the warrior. Before the smile could come to Crewslayer’s face, Paltisumas added, “However, I will demand a reward. Paid in gold.”

“Not a problem,” heaved a sigh of relief Ymdaton, “Dragomir is one of the wealthiest merchants in Khladnetz. He will pay any price for the survival of his child.”

“Decided, then. When and where do we meet?”

“In three days seek me at the merchant’s household.”

That left Ymdaton with but one warrior to find. The last one proved to be the hardest. For the rest of the day and the next one he asked many crewmen and met only refusal. Tired and hopeless he was trudging a street of Khladnetz at the evening of the second day.

Crewslayer was desperately trying to think of some more possible candidates, when a group of militiamen entering a large house caught his eyes. Bright light streamed through windows, music, chatter and laughter could be heard from inside. He knew that place. It was a drinking house. And, apparently, a lot of drevlyani warriors spent free time there. A thought began forming in Ymdaton’s mind. He followed militia and also entered the building.

Right behind the doors was a massive hall filled with tables and chairs. A crowd of men drank, conversated and generally were having fun. Crewslayer found an empty place in a slightly darker corner and sat there, observing. A wench approached him and asked whatever he would like to order.

“A mug of mead, I suppose,” answered he without paying much attention to the girl.

His order was soon delivered and he continued to ogle people around, while sipping it. There was so many militiamen, that he came to a conclusion it should common habit among them to cheer oneself up with a strong drink. Ymdaton even noticed some of his trainees.

Viroglyad, for example, was leaning over the round table anxiously. Men beside him were similarly displaying nervousness with their body language. Crewslayer stayed his gaze on them. It soon became obvious to him that a group played some sort of a gambling game. The rules were not difficult, for he understood them after seeing but a round.

“White, white, and red,” said Viroglyad, while pushing a silver coin to the middle of the table. He then picked up three dice made of either wood or bone, shook, and cast them. The result was white, black, and red. The militiaman covered his eyes with a palm. Others laughed and put the coin into the pile of currency which was rising on the table.

Dice were painted in three colours. Three sides were white, two were black, and only one was red. Players took turns casting them. A player was ought to put his bet before trying. The one whose prediction came true, took the amount of money from the pile depending on the rarity of his combination. What Crewslayer also understood is that Viroglyad never won. He witnessed ten turns of the game and his protegee lost each one. Finally, another man from the table got lucky with a black-black-red cast and took all the bets. That concluded the game and gamblers left one after another. Ymdaton rushed to the exit also, leaving the payment on his table.

Viroglyad was slowly making his way down the street. Crewslayer torn him out of his brooding with a loud greeting.

“Oh, good evening, instructor,” the militiaman looked surprised, “haven’t you came to visit korchma? Never thought you were into that kind of thing.”

“Visit what?”

“Sorry, the house of drinking. Here is your free lesson in our language, by the way,” smiled Viroglyad in a way that made Ymdaton want to punch him. Crewslayer considered his decision again.

“I’ll cut straight to the point. What if I told that there is a wealthy merchant in the town who wants some brave men to perform a certain task. And he pays in gold. Lots of gold, since the task is personal.”

“I won’t be collecting debts with a sword in hands, you should have figured,” answered the drevlyani man with a shrug.

“Not that kind of task,” Ymdaton sighed. He told the story of a seek child and a possible cure.

Viroglyad was thinking for a moment.

“I will demand a lot,” finally said he.

“I know. He will offer a lot. It is his beloved son, what else do you expect. So, will you help me?”

“Sure, when do we start?”