The street was dark and heavy with rain. The street lights hissed dangerously when water droplets hit them. Most of the lights had rain protection in the form of small slopes to drain water, but sometimes a gust of wind smothered a faint glow of the oil lamps.

Hidden in the hood of his gray robe, the alchemist was confused when he looked at Cyril.

"Why are you naked?" He asked, standing in front of the entrance to the tavern. "Doesn't matter. Did you collect the herbs?"

"Yes, come in." Cyril said, and stepped aside to let the herbalist in. "So, do you have clothes?"

The cold night air and drizzling rain made Cyril shiver again.

"Just the one I'm wearing." The alchemist shrugged.

He felt uncomfortable. First he got wet in the rain, then he couldn't get into the warmth of the tavern, and now this suspicious guy was waving his penis in front of him. Two days ago, he had nothing to pay for his food, and now he was acting as if he were the owner of the tavern.

"We're closed." The bartender said from behind the bar and belched loudly into his beard. "Cyril, bro, who's this guy? Drive 'im away!"

"Relax, boss. This is my friend." Cyril told the bartender, then turned to the alchemist. "By the way, herbalist, do you have a name?"

"Kalim." The herbalist said, still looking around uncertainly.

He couldn't tell if he could sit down or not. The obvious owner of the tavern was against it and closed the place, although this naked tramp actively invited him in and even called him a friend, defending him in front of the creepy bartender. Even more, the sight of a bearded man made Kalim feel fear.

"Here is a normal name." The naked guy praised him and also hurried to introduce himself. "I'm Cyril, this is Dyck. He only looks formidable, in fact, a real sweetheart. Don't squeeze like a walrus dick, sit down and have a drink with the boss. I'm going to get your herbs."

Cyril took the confused herbalist by the left forearm and led him to the bar. Dyck wanted to object, but could only twitch an eyebrow, looking at how deftly Cyril commands the guest.

Dyck remembered why he had allowed Cyril to live for free and entrusted the management of the tavern to him. Cyril said he ran a similar place, and now Dyck could observe his leadership qualities in action. In the end, Dyck decided that if Cyril considered the herbalist his friend, then Kalim wouldn't be a third wheel.

Dyck grunted, satisfied with his thought, and, heavily moving his heavy, drunken body, got down from the high chair.

"If he's your friend." Dyck said. "I'll bring 'im a cup myself."

"Great plan, boss!" Cyril supported him halfway up the stairs. When he climbed a couple of stairs, he turned. "Don't be shy, herbalist. I have an offer you might like."

Kalim nodded a little more confidently and removed the wet hood from his head. He shifted a little in his chair and looked around again.

The tavern was much cleaner than the last time he'd been here. However, the clean bar was smeared with candle wax and meat grease. The bartender seemed to be - What did this guy call him? Dyck? - celebrated some holiday. But it was the change in the tramp - Cyril - that really confused him.

Ribbons rustled to the left, and Dyck returned from the kitchen.

"If Cyril said that you are one of us, then you will drink with us!" The bartender said, and placed a mug in front of Kalim. "This is my father's firewater. Did you know my father?"

Kalim was startled and ducked his head when bulky Dyck sat down opposite him and asked an unexpected question. Kalim thought for a moment and decided to say anything, so the bearded butcher wouldn't think that the alchemist was hiding something.

"Ahem." The herbalist cleared his throat. "I don't think I knew him personally, but I might have seen his name in books. What was your father's name?"

"Dar Tazar." Dyck slapped the counter, making the alchemist cringe even more. "That was my father's name."

"Tazar." The alchemist muttered, and nodded to himself. "I know this name. The Tazar family split from the Clean Heel clan immediately after the capital was founded. Am I right?"

"So you're a bookworm." Dyck said, and belched again. "Well, where's Cyril!?"

Dyck put three cups together and poured into each form the jug. He poured twice as much into one cup and pushed it toward the alchemist.

"You came late, when we've already started with Cyril, so catch up." Dyck said and smiled, hearing footsteps on the stairs. "Here is my partner."

Cyril descended the stairs and nodded, seeing that the alchemist was still there. In his hand was the basket again, where he had put the herbs that Clara had carefully dried.

When he was in his room, Freya was still sleeping in the rags of her torn dress. Cyril was in a hurry to gather herbs and did not linger, although a thought of fucking a sleeping Freya touched him.

I always have time for a good fuck. Cyril thought, going down to the first floor. The important thing now is to convince Kalim to test his potion before anyone finds the mechanic's body.

"I see, the introduction was successful." Cyril exclaimed joyfully and sat down in his seat. He thrust the basket into the hands of the alchemist, who hesitated for a moment, as if he had forgotten why he was there. "Here is all you asked. You can give the money to the boss, he needs it more."

Kalim looked into the basket, studied the herbs carefully, and nodded.

"Sure, whatever you say." The herbalist said, and reached into the folds of his robe to pull out a few silver coins. "I see you've dried the herbs professionally."

"It wasn't me." Cyril said, and stopped for a moment. "Dyck, your moonshine is a tough shit."

Cyril suddenly realized how drunk he was, and how suddenly it had happened. He seemed to be still sober when they sat together. But when he dismantled the barricade and met Kalim, he was overtaken by the effects of moonshine.

I see now, why did the boss get so emotional. Cyril thought. This water is really strong. I need to try to maintain my sanity and, most important, my control. We can't sit, we must go after the corpse.