They were going in the direction of the place where the "Grandfather" works. It didn't take long, about twenty minutes. A hundred meters away from a huge four-story building that looked more like a warehouse, there was a garbage bin where a small boy was rummaging through. Egon looked at him, thought for a moment, and said:

"Wait for me here."

He ran to the boy, who grabbed hold of the empty bottles and stared at Egon with dazed eyes.

"Do you want my cloak and one gold coin?"

Egon asked, pulling a gold coin from his pocket. The boy was about to let go of all the empty bottles when Egon shouted to him:

"Wait, wait, wait. These bottles will come in handy. Do you see this four-story building?"

The boy nodded.

"Do you see the ladder on the side?"

The boy nodded again.

"Would you mind sneaking up to the roof and placing these bottles on the very edge. So, that they can be seen from below?"

The boy nodded again.

"You won't deceive me?"

The boy turned his head from left to right several times.

"Okay, I believe you."

Egon handed him a cloak and a gold coin.

"All right, run."

The boy put on his new raincoat, put the gold piece in his pocket, clutched the bottles to his chest, and ran. Egon came back.

"What have you done?" Ofir asked.

"No time to explain, let's go."

They walked to the front door, where the guards were, professional mercenaries, dressed in black leather, with pockets for throwing knives on their hands, two small swords on their sides, and a crossbow on their backs. Egon came up to them and said:

"We came to the Grandfather."

They looked at him, their wet faces and tired brown eyes.

"He'll be very happy to see us."

One of the guards stayed, the other went inside. The friends stood in the pouring rain for about five minutes before the door opened and they were invited in.

Inside, a lot of people were working on something. The hall was huge. In one corner, several people were working on some jewelry, someone was forging swords, and everywhere, along the walls, wooden barrels were stacked on top of each other. The Grandfather was standing at the end of the hall, looking at them. He was tall, maybe six feet tall. His arms, like his legs and like the rest of his body, were massive, muscular. The eyes were bright. On the face there was a small stubble and a beard. His clothes were no different from those of any worker in this place. However, when he walked towards them, it was immediately clear who the boss was. He walked up to them, looked each of them in the eye, and said:

"So, you're three."

"Yes, three."

"Three brave men came to my manufactory and said I would be glad to see them, didn’t you, huh?"

"Yes. I’m Egon, these two are Ofir and Homer."

"Have you decided to see how we work here? Well, come in, since you came."

“All right.”

Egon was the only one who answered.

"And these two, why so silent, uh?"

"We..." Homer began, but the Grandfather cut him off with a gesture.

"I don't talk to you, Candy kid. I'm talking to him, right?" the Grandfather said, taking a step forward and pointing his index finger at Egon.

"They'll talk when they need to."

"I hope so. Follow me."

He walked to the end of the hall, slowly, wearily. They followed him.

"We do all sorts of things here, swords, bows, and we can embroider something for you if you need it. We do a lot of things, yeah. We have diverse workers here. All hard workers, I personally interviewed them."

The Grandfather stopped and poured them all a drink:

"Try it, uh, ok?"

Egon took the first sip. Ofir and Homer did the same.

The Grandfather continued to stare at everyone, shook his head, walked closer to Egon and asked:

"How is it?"

"Fine."

“Fine, huh?” The Grandfather nodded his head. “Fine, right?”

Egon shook his head in agreement.

"Did you like it?"

"Decent enough."

"Is it decent enough or fine? These are different concepts, innit?"

"I've drunk better stuff," Egon said, and felt the adrenaline effect fading away and his body began to weaken.

The Grandfather, hearing such words, laughed, patted him on the shoulder and said:

"It's a fucking shit, man. Poison, horrible crap. Swill for the workers. Come to my office, I have better stuff there, ok?"

They left the hall. They turned into a small corridor. To the right, along the wall, was an office, surrounded by glass and curtained with blinds. Inside, there were several bookcases, a table, and a couple of chairs. Clean, tidy. They went inside. The Grandfather pulled out a chair for Egon, and sat down in his own chair. Ofir and Homer stood with their hands clasped in a lock in the area of the pelvis.

“I've heard that you guys are up to your ears in shit, in the absolute ass, yeah? You're the thieves, huh? The ones who stole from those fucking inquisitors. It was their talkativeness that ruined them. They trumpet everywhere about the birthday, about expensive jewelry and here, bang!” The Grandfather clapped his hands, and Homer jerked and squeezed his eyes shut. “No jewelry! If there were any jewels at all and not something else, more valuable. And now they are running around the streets at breakneck speed, they have released their fucking dogs, and they still don't know how to make the rumors, that they were fucked in all the holes, stop spreading, huh.”

"We're here on business."

"Yeah. On business, huh. I like your way of thinking, the serious way. You need to relax, don’t you? Whiskey is the swill of the poor: have a drink, go to the whores, and then go home to your wife and kids, right? But vodka is another matter, vodka is for a chiefs."

The Grandfather took out from a pull-out shelf in the table an unopened a bottle of vodka, two glasses. He poured it. He handed one to Egon, and kept one for himself.

"Where's the fourth one, by the way? Has he really got lost in the woods, huh?"

Egon drained the glass in one gulp and set it on the table. The fatigue began to fade. The Grandfather did the same, shuddered, rubbed his nose with his thumb, then looked from under his brows at Ofir and Homer, smiled, and then laughed.

"I heard, Egon, that you were saved by a former inquisitor after you beat up the police and guards in the square. I was so excited about what you did that I started a rumor that you gave one of them a shit in the face! You are one crazy mother fucker, aren’t you, my friend?"

The Grandfather laughed again, and Egon, Homer, and Ofir looked at him with stony faces.

"I don't like fucking inquisitors, they're dumbasses and can't be trusted, right, huh?"

"Metyr is like my own father, he raised me, got me a job, bought an apartment."

“Atoning for his sins after his brutal experiments twenty-five years ago. But you haven’t known about them, innit?”

"Can we talk about the business?"

"Business is good, especially when your business is fucked and mine is thriving, smelling like red fucking roses on a warm summer day."

"We want to sell you some diamonds."

The Grandfather grinned, drilled Egon with his eyes, and said:

"When the war against Porhol land first started, we went to burn their villages, uh. Because the strategy demanded it. You destroy the country one piece after another and eventually reach the capital and destroy it, leaving fields filled with ashes and corpses, innit? But there are soldiers in the army who go for fun, for the sake of robbing or killing people, raping women, and so on, all right, yeah? And one of them, when he began to burn the children at the stake, fucking burning children, friend. I threw him at the stake too, that’s what I’ve done. And untied the children and saved them. We all watched together how this bastard burned. It was holy fucking inquisitional, mate. And when I came back here to Agernox, I found his only son and beat him to death with a pencil, to end this bastard’s family once and for all. And now you are sitting on my chair in front of me and trying to fuck me over, innit? Start be a man, ok? Do you understand me, huh?"

“I understand.”

"So now you take out the box and show me what it really is, ok? The Inquisitors wouldn't be so worried about diamonds. I checked you for honesty, and you didn't pass the test, uh. I conduct an assessment and set a price, making a discount for your fucking load of shit."

Egon took a crystal from his pocket and placed it on the table. The Grandfather began to examine it and check it out through a big monocular. Then he raised his head and laughed.

"No fucking way!" he shouted. "You guys, huh, are totally fucked."

“For the entire box containing 20 VV crystals, we want 600 gold coins.”

"I'll give you a counter-offer, ok? Look, you're giving me these crystals, all crystals, huh? For free. Right? Then you tell me where the warehouse is, with all your money and your friends' money. I'll take them all for myself. And then I'll let you go and let you try to get the fuck out of this country. How about it?"

"That's a pretty ridiculous offer."

"What's so ridiculous about that offer?"

"That I give you all my money... all my friends' money too... with a cherry on the top, I guess."

The Grandfather wheezed and smiled.

“This is not a fucking negotiation, ok?”

The Grandfather took out a map of the capital, a pen, put it on the table and said:

"Here, mark the places where you keep the money, and my people will take them. And only after that we'll let you boys go."

"Well, there's a problem with time. On the roof of your manufactory, there is a fourth man, the one you asked about if he was lost in the woods. He's got fire bottles lined up, and he's totally fucked in the head, even though he looks like a kid. And if the three of us don't get out of here in... what time is it, by the way?"

"Five minutes to midnight."

“Great. If we don't get out of here in five minutes, this psychopath will start throw fire bottles down your roof chimney. And all your whiskey and you, along with it, will burn like metentises at the stake. He's the kind of guy who raised a few years ago the rebellion in this country and burned down the police station, along with all the police officers.”

"So, you also decided to fuck yourself up, huh?"

"I don't give a shit about my safety; don't you see I’m in deep shit already?"

The Grandfather leaned toward Egon, put his hands on the table, and looked him straight in the eye. Then he snapped his fingers and one of the mercenaries entered the office.

"I'll bet you a thousand gold coins that you fuck over and don't blush."

Egon looked pointedly at his watch, then at the Grandfather, and said nothing, just smiled.

"Climb up on the opposite building and kill the man who is standing on our roof."

"I don't think you'll make it, and our guy isn't blind," Egon said, and leaned back in his chair.

"Check if anyone's there, then, and get back here quickly."

The mercenary ran away, and while he checked, the Grandfather kept his eyes on Egon. When the mercenary returned, he said that along the entire edge of the roof, there are bottles, behind them there is a man in a long raincoat, very similar to a child, although the exact height from below is difficult to determine, besides, because of the rain, it is difficult to see the details.

The Grandfather stared at the mercenary and asked: "Tell me, why the fuck I pay you money, uh? If a psycho with a bunch of fire bottles can calmly climb on my roof?"

The mercenary did not answer. The Grandfather smiled, looked at Egon again, and laughed.

"So, the one who executed the Goblin, the coachman, and the two inquisitors by burying them in the ground is your trump card? You guys aren't that simple, huh?"

Egon nodded, not knowing what was happening.

The Grandfather looked at the mercenary and nodded. He left the room.

"100 gold coins for all VV crystals."

“That's a fucking ridiculous price. 550 gold coins.”

The Grandfather laughed grimly.

"Fuck you. One hundred and fifty."

“No deal.”

The Grandfather looked at his watch, two minutes left. Egon did the same.

"Two minutes."

"Yeah, two minutes. Tell me about the fire bottles, okay? I want to learn something new."

“Well, these are glass bottles with a combustible mixture inside. And on top of the neck, a cloth soaked in alcohol is fixed.”

The Grandfather continued to nod and wheezed.

"Based on, all of the above facts, I'll give you two hundred."

"No. Four hundred gold coins."

They both looked at watches, and there was one minute and twenty seconds left.

"You're fucking insane, aren't you? Egon, this is way too much."

He turned his head, sniffed, and said:

"Three hundred or we're all fucked."

"Deal."

Egon got up from his chair and held out his hand. The Grandfather held out his hand in response. Homer pulled out the box with VV crystals and opened it. The Grandfather counted the number, and from the bottom drawer began to pull out a bag, saying: "50 gold." He set slowly the six sacks on the table, checked the time. Then the Grandfather opened one of the bags and pulled out about 30 coins.

"It's a tax for your fucking load of shit. Ain't you gonna count rest of it, uh?"

"I trust you." Egon smiled.

"This is a man's world and it has its own rules. And you are welcome, boys!"

The Grandfather smiled too. Egon, Homer, and Ofir turned and walked out at a brisk pace. The Grandfather watched them go and looked at his watch. They came out ten seconds before the attack. Nothing happened. At the same time, behind the three friends, the mercenaries closed the entrance doors, Egon waved to the guy and told him to go down. The boy collected all his empty bottles, went down and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

"What the fuck happened?" Ofir asked, completely ignoring the torrential rain.

"I don't know exactly."

"Who killed the Goblin, the coachman, and two fucking inquisitors? And what kind of experiments did Metyr do twenty-five years ago?"

"I don't know… I know nothing."

"Something strange is happening, as if someone is cleaning up our tracks."

"Or maybe we just got lucky. Either way, the rich guy isn't going anywhere. And it is better for us to be outside the capital by the evening of the next day. Go back to Guillotine, tell him what happened, and go home to pack your things."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll buy a steam stagecoach."

"At night?"

"There is one place where they work around the clock."

"And then what?"

"Then we'll load all our money into it and get out of here."

Egon headed north, moving through the empty, dark streets of Agernox, lost in his own thoughts. Factories and mills did not work. The lights were turned off in the windows of the houses. The rain was ending, only the cold autumn wind wouldn't stop, piercing every dog, cat, or tramp on the street down to the bone. Egon paid no attention to anything, he kept trying to figure out what was going on, but he couldn't find an answer.

He turned onto a small street, and the dirt road gave way to a brick surface. The red and yellow leaves that shone in the light of day were like ashes at night. The curb was lit by lampposts, like little lost moons in a shroud of darkness. At such moments, it seemed as if the misty world was frozen in immobility.

Egon turned into a small street, noticed a strange glow around the corner of the house. He went there and saw a dying fire and a small family around it. The father took the last dry branches from polyethylene and threw them into the dim flame. The little boy and his mother were covered with a blanket and snuggled together. For them, the fire was a guardian angel sent by God, it gave food, warmth and the opportunity to survive another night. The man sensed Egon's presence and turned his head in his direction. Egon did not linger, and continued on his way.

As he passed through the square, he saw scattered burnt branches, already soaked by the rain, and pieces of straw. A thick smell of smoke hung around. Several undertakers were laying the corpses of burned metentises, apparently executed around midnight, on small wooden drays. Next to them stood the exiled prophet with a book, and beside him obediently sat a white greyhound, shivering. Egon heard that the prophet was praying for the souls of the fallen. He preached a sermon that said it made no difference to God whether you were a metentis or an ordinary person. "We all die in the dark and fall into the dark," he says.

The undertakers piled the charred bodies in their still-smoking clothes into drays, waved to the coachman, who, in the light of a single burning lamppost, set off into the unknown. Like an ancient ferryman transporting souls to the realm of death. The undertakers said good-bye to each other and went their separate ways. The Prophet stood for a few more minutes, looking around "The Death Square" (as he called it), shouting that it was covered in blood. The greyhound turned toward Egon and barked. The prophet paused, turned, and looked in his direction. Then he stroked the dog and walked over to Egon.

"Are you the hero who tried to save a Metentis?"

"That hero was killed under torture in prison. And this man is no hero, but a rather reckless fool."

"There is a fine line between heroism and foolishness, and that line is determined by the result," said the prophet, and he took his leave and went off into the murk.

The square emptied. The candle on the lamppost went out, allowing the immortal darkness to engulf roads, houses, temples, and people.

Egon passed several bus stations, crossed tram tracks.

Ten more minutes and I'll be there, he thought.

His body was tired, and stomach was rumbling with hunger. On the left side of the street was a rich district. Egon was about to pass by when he suddenly heard people screaming and saw a fire. He ran in that direction, and when he got there, he saw a huge three-story house on fire, and next to it, hanging from a tree, was the dead boy, the rich boy, who had told Egon about the diamonds.

"What the fucking shit is going on here?" Egon asked himself, stared at dead boy, screaming locals and the police officers around this place. His body shaking with fear of the unknown.