Mat and Piercer went through the back door straight into the kitchen where two skinny girls in their early teens were working around the stoves. It was not half of a lamb waiting for them, more like a leg, but they ate it with hot bread and cheese, dipping the bread inside the lamb roasting pot long after their stomachs were full. “Damn best lamb I ever had,” Mat announced it. “Missing a bit of garlic and a few onions in that pot,” the old man said. “And not to say anything abut a potato or two.” “Maybe you. Maybe you’re missing some things,” Mat said through his full mouth. “But for me, this is a meal worth of Kings. And to wash it down all with that good ale, god. I’m happy to have lived to see this day.” That made the old man chuckle. When his sister walked in, he turned and asked, “Where is your husband?” “Went to Farling this morning. You know, it’s a long six-day trip, but his uncle called for help, something about the spice and herbs trade.” “Good, he should be safe there. With that stubborn thick head of his, that is by far the best thing.” “Are you sure we have to leave?” “Yes. Vaina, there are going to come through here and there is nothing that can get in their way and stop them.” Vaina rested her eyes on the old man, looking at him for a long moment, and then just sighed as if that was enough to decide. And decided she did. She moved to the entrance to the tavern’s sitting area and called out in a loud voice. “For the rest of the night, I’m glad to tell you that drinks are on the house. You can drink all you want as long as you can make it on your two feet back home.” “Hooray,” echoed loudly through the tavern as an answer from the guests. “Reisa, take some bread and cheese upstairs to the rooms where Knights are staying. Then, when you finish here, you and your sister take some of those smoked sausages, and here, a gold coin for each. Take it home. Tell your folks to head out of here. To go East. Till the situation changes. Not to come back here, do you understand?” “And you boys,” she added as three brothers walked back in the kitchen. “You load the big wagon with all the dried meat we have left. And pack a few barrels of bourbon. That can sell well. And don’t you worry. I won’t leave you behind. You three are coming with us.” “Your sister is a very decent woman,” Mat had to say once they were left alone. “You know it… Mat,” the old man said and then sighed. “She had it rough, but that has not turned her cold. Has a golden heart like you won’t believe. Never a beggar entered here that did not come out with something, a choir to do for a price of a hot meal or a piece of bread if nothing needed to be done. Sometimes I think the only reason I stick around here is because of her.” Mat nodded his head. “I know the feeling.” Looking at the old man’s face as he pulled his hair back, for the first time, Mat noticed his green eyes and a big scar above his left eye. “You’ve seen your share of fighting.” “I reckon you can say that. Enough to know it’s enough. If it was up to me, the rest of my years I could spend without any. But a folk, young or old, doesn’t have a choice about that, does he?” “I guess not.” The old man sighed and pointed with his finger at the door by the kitchen. “I sleep there. It’s cramped storage space, but it has an extra bed for you too.” “Thank you.” “Well, I’ll retire now. I assume you will want to have a drink.” “I do. Your sister brews some good ale. Who knows if there will be the next time I get to have something that good. And free…” The old man chuckled and padded Mat on the back. Mat slowly got off the table, poured himself another full mug, and with a lazy step walked to the lounge. Candles, a pair of gas lights, and a gigantic fireplace provided enough light for Mat to realize there were no empty tables around. The talk was hushed, fear mingling in a cloud of smoke from dozens of pipes and cigars. Mat decided to walk slowly to the fireplace, sit on one of its sides and lean his back against the stone that should be warmed just fine by the burning flame. “You’ve got some fancy swords there, fella,” said a man sitting at a small table he passed by. Mat cast him a glace, not able to see his face on account of a black hat that covered most of his face. “Care to sell them,” the man added. Made Mat look down at his swords, stuck at the side of his belt. “Not mine actually,” he said. “Got them from a Paleskinnner I ran into down the road.” “Nice present he gave you.” “Well, when I took it from him, he did not complain.” The man chuckled. “Those are…” “Elvish making,” Mat added swiftly. “Probably cast in Embria from the engravings on them,” he added, fully aware that the man could possibly not know where Embria is. Now that he stopped to think about it, was it in Quadrant S30-400 or, S30-800? Mat was not sure. But wherever it was, it was not close to this rock in Space. To Mat’s surprise, the man did not put out a question, just kept looking at him. That made Mat wonder, so he stopped to look and think. “You’ve got a pretty company there, stranger,” he said, pointing to a woman sitting opposite the man with a hat. By Mat's estimate, she was a young woman in her mid-twenties, the skin color of a hazelnut, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dark red lips and shinning, piercing eyes that had already examined every iota of his presence. Mat was going to say something but she beat him to it. “Why don’t you just move on, buster,” the woman brushed him off, not liking how he was looking at her at all. There was more friendliness in the hissing of a snake than in her voice. "Or you looking for trouble." “Oh, I see. My favorite.” “What did you just say?” the woman asked him, being a bit ticked off already. “A New Jersey accent. Been a while I heard it,” Mat said, nodding his head. "You're Latin, aren't you?" "Fuck off," was what he got for an answer. The man started to chuckle softly, and Mat waited for the laughter to stop. “Mat, isn’t it?” the man in a hat finally asked. “You know it is, Sir.” A high-up bastard. Probably scanned me before I even entered here. The stranger tilted his head up a bit to look at Mat closer. “Not bad. See you still in one piece. But then, Would not expect anything less from the Class Ten. But then, the company had long gone haywire on rankings, has it not?" "I would not know. Tell you, don't know much about ranking as it is." "From what I heard, you fought with knights. Six dead they say," the man suddenly said in a sour tone. "Makes me wonder, if you continue fighting the way like that, you might never raise up and become a Champion class." There were a lot of things that Mat wanted to bark out in the stranger's face, like how he ran for three hours even before entering the fight, how they all died before he even came. But, something in the man's presence made Mat more alert than if he was standing against hundreds of Paleskins. So he just took his time and pulled on the beer and said in a slow voice. "Well, there are worse things than not making to be a Champion. “That is true,” the man agreed. "Are you going to tell me your names?" Mat asked. “Well, that's Sabrina. And I'm Eisen, High Lord of Elves… from Tambunaris. That’s…” “Tambu? That's the biggest city on Embria.” "The last I heard." Mat nodded his head. It made sense. “A lot of dead elves recently. Is that why you are here?” Mat asked, not that he expected anything less than a complete shit storm to come. “Sort of.” Mat nodded his head, waited for a second, and when the elf did not say anything decided to ask, “And how long you’ve been here?” "Obviously not long enough.” "You want these swords back?" Mat asked, knowing how particular Elves were about their own properties. "I don't see you armed, Mat. Maybe you keep them for now. Maybe they'll serve you better than they did their last owner," Eisan, the Elvish Lord, said and then pointed his hand to the seat next to him. "I think we have a lot to discuss." Even if Eisen didn't announce himself as a lord, Mat would guess that he was a higher-up, the cloak of superiority clearly displayed around every syllable that he pronounced So, he sat down obediently, sighed, pulled on the beer, and started to talk. Well, talking about everything that he remembered, mentioning how the biggest parts of his year-long memories are still completely blacked out. "Something strange is at work here," Eisen said afterward. "But then maybe... times have changed, and I have not changed with them. What you need to know is how serious this thing is. For one, I have not accepted any missions in dozens of years. But when I heard about this.... this got my attention. We need to know what is going on. And time is not our friend." Mat nodded his head and drank the last of the beer. Maybe he felt he needed all the strength for asking the question that has been bugging him for a long time. "Something has not been very clear to me, and nobody really cared to give me any answers. But, now that I'm in the presence of the Elvish lord, I hope you do not mind me for asking..." "Go ahead," Eisen said. "I mean, the Core seems to have the most powerful tracking abilities that this universe had ever seen. Its scanning capabilities are just mind-boggling. How can it just so simply be shut down? What kind of technology could do that?" Lord Eisen tilted his head to the chest, the hat completely covering his face. "I am guilty of being out of the Core for a long while now. No excuse. Frankly, I'm surprised myself. But what I do know is... The Core is powerful, the most powerful organized intelligence I've seen. Very selective, revealed to only a few. There is a reason behind it. If it was accessible to everyone, it could be compromised." "That’s not what I asked. That's not what I asked about. Why don’t you answer my question?" "But I just did." Mat sighed and nodded his head. "I assume you know where we can Oliver Roxion. I guess he goes around here as the High Priest? He was sent here twenty years ago. I'd like to have a chat with him." "Everyone is heading to the City of Lan. It seems everyone will be there." "I guess we'll be heading there too as well," Eisen said and reached for his mug, emptying it in one long pull. "That's a fucken good beer," he said in the end. "It's not just the water or the barley, it's also the oak barrels they use for fermenting it," he said looking at the woman. “Can’t do that in New York City.” The woman nodded her head. “Want me to go and grab us two more.” “No. Don’t think we can.” "So, then, you want to go now?" the woman asked. "Yes, Leila. We leave now," he said as he got up. "You, Mat, will find your own way." "You will not need my assistance?" Mat asked, not knowing what else to say. "I do not know, frankly. Probably will. But... I see your health is below ten percent, stamina even less than that. If you go on a horse right now, it won't be long before you fall down." Lord Eisen reached in his robe and pulled two small ampules out. "I guess you could use one of these. Keep the other one as a backup. The way things are going, we're all going to need them." "Good luck," Mat said as a good by, readily accepting the nano-h-cell boosters. "Good luck to you too, Mat of Montana. Hope to see you soon under better circumstances." Mat followed him till he made it to the door and then decided to say something. "You know, you're not bad for being a Lord, even less for being an Elf." It was not meant as an insult. Eisen could feel it as a friendly tease as if someone was offering him his hand. What could he do with Mat's hand? Still, he stopped turned around and nodded his head in a friendly gesture, and said in a quiet, almost not audible voice. "Yeah, I spent the last few hundred years on Earth. It kind of waters you down, you know." That made Mat chuckle, laughing to himself even after Eisen and his companion had gone to the stable for their rides.