"Fluffy". Whenever Glavas went somewhere to taste a new meal, by the time he finally started writing in his notebook, he was able to describe each factor of a taste with such accuracy one would even be able to imagine the food just from his writing alone. This time though, the words were simply not leaving his mind. The food he had was delicious. The Softies were practically dissolving in his mouth. They weren't hard as regular cookies. Compact enough to keep shape, but soft enough to be easy to chew. Furthermore, the little pockets of jam would burst open during random bites as little surprise flavor boosts. Glavas enjoyed them greatly and wanted to write so many things into his notebook, but the only thing that he managed to squeeze out so far was "fluffy".

"Fuck, this is pointless," he sighed and pushed the plate with the other two softies away from him. His own actions were eating at his mind. Like a parasite that takes all the pleasure of food for himself and doesn't allow him to enjoy even a tiny bit. He reached into his bag again and pulled out the small yellow crayon. For a moment, he held it in the palm of his hand, before finally grabbing it with his fingers and letting it hover over the empty lines of the notebook. "No, not any better, fucking hell," he muttered to himself and tossed the crayon back into his bag when he felt the uncomfortable feeling in his chest grow in magnitude. He knew the feeling. It wasn't too different from what his magic made him feel. But this was something else. This time, there was no comforting knowledge that it would soon go away.

He stood up from his table and walked over to the bar again. The barkeep was currently speaking to another customer, so Glavas had to wait. During this time, his eyes scanned the beautifully sorted shelves with alcohol. Most of them were brands he had never even heard of. This brought forth a certain idea that at the time sounded like heaven-sent wisdom.

"You don't like our Softies?" the barkeep asked once he walked over to Glavas and after he noticed the leftovers on his table.

"No, they are good, but it's not what I need right now."

"Ah, yeah, I can get that. It's hot outside. These are much better for cold weather. Well, what can I get you then?"

"Those?" Glavas said and pointed to the bottles behind the man.

"Which one?"

"All of them."

The barkeep sighed. "I can see you're troubled, but I will not let you drink yourself to death. I don't care how much gold you throw at my table."

"Not all the bottles, obviously. I meant like... I don't know, a tiny smidge of each? I wanna try them out and get absolutely fucked in the process."

"That would still kill you. Five shots and you're drunk as a skunk. Ten and you'd be happy to form words. There are over thirty bottles. Absolutely not."

Glavas only let out a disappointed harrumph and supported his head with his hand, braced against the bar.

"How about you only have some?" the barkeep offered. "And tomorrow, you can try something else."

"I need to be gone by tomorrow. But I want some alcohol and your bar is so big... You've got things I've never seen before. I don't know what to choose and what to leave out. I won't... I can't come back ever again."

"Is it that serious?"

"Oh yeah. Life is a real bitch right now. Though that is my fault."

"Well, how about I bottle it for you?"

"Say what?" Glavas' eyes lit up and he lifted his head.

"Well, we have these around," the barkeep showed him a minuscule flask he pulled out from somewhere behind the bar. "They are commonly used for really potent potions, but I can put the drinks in it. But only if you swear to me here and now that you won't drink all of them at once. You are most likely several decades older than me. You should be responsible."

"Right, I swear, I swear. Don't worry. I want to get drunk tonight but I still value my own life. I won't overdo it. It's not that terrible of a feeling."

"Fine then," the barkeep shrugged and then proceeded to tell Glavas the price. From the crazy number he just heard, Glavas nearly fell to the floor.

"T-That much??"

"Well, some of these are distilled here in Rotler, so they are quite unique and therefore expensive. Plus, it's over thirty flasks. Their content does add up quite a lot. Not to mention that making such tiny bottles is not easy either. Nobody here can do that. We have to import them, which also costs a lot, so I'd say that is a fair price."

Glavas sighed and began counting all the gold coins he had. The rest of the establishment watched him in the meantime with curious eyes. They all wondered how could a ragged man like him come to such riches and some even started to consider the possibility of him being an assassin or a thief.

"Shiiiiiiit," he groaned. "I am missing just a few more!" he gently banged his head against the bar.

"Well, still, you have the money for like twenty-five bottles. That is more than enough."

"But I suck at choosing. They all look so... mysterious."

"Then how about you earn the rest?" Ismaya's voice came from beside him. He turned around with minimal effort and seeing her face did not bring him much extra joy.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes, I came here to offer you to see them. You know, for one last time."

"No, I can't."

"But you didn't even say goodbye."

"I KNOW! You think it's easy? I just... I didn't have a heartfelt moment. I didn't hug them or give them one last wisdom. I just... ugh... I need that drink."

"Okay, then I have a job for you," she changed the subject. "You can get the money you are missing there."

"Oh? Okay, then speak up. The name is Glavas, a slayer of monsters, and so on, and so on."

"Wow, you are a mess."

"I am sad. There is a difference. I know exactly what is wrong with me. And I am still a professional. What can I do for you?"

"What do you know about the Humis."

"Humis? Rodents. About this big. Bastards can chew through metal. They loooove vegetables. Look like rats the size of small dogs with hard shells on their backs. Like if a turtle and a rat had a really busy night."

"Do you know how to remove them? We have had an infestation in the castle's cellar and all the other hunters have so far only ever offered a temporary solution."

"That's because those assholes have guts. You can't scare them away and can't ever kill them all. You need to create something truly horrifying for them so that it gets burned into their memory. I know a little ritual for that."

"Good, excellent. Then you perform it, get them out of the royal cellar, and the king will pay for all the alcohol you wish to buy. Sounds like a good deal?"

Glavas' eyes widened slightly. "Lady, you've found yourself the right elf. Point me to them."

The royal palace was on the other side of Rotler. This pleased Glavas as it meant that there was no possible way that he would accidentally run into the kids. The trip through the city was also quite relaxing. Several people have asked him where he's off to, and when Ismaya told them that the monarch is paying Glavas to eradicate the rodents, they wished him good luck and thanked him for the service. It was because of people like these that Rotler started to grow on Glavas. He could imagine coming here once in a while to rest and relax while enjoying Softies and the local wide variety of drinks. But unfortunately, it simply wouldn't be possible.

"Why is everyone so nice here?" the hunter asked eventually. "It almost seems like..."

"Like it's not real?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Hehe, I know precisely what you mean. When I came here, I thought that the people here were shady. I was hell-bent on discovering their secrets. Like some sort of a private detective. That's actually how I got the job as the chief of the guards. They found out I was investigating the people around and so the monarch offered me a place among the guards. Then over the course of several years, I worked my way up the hierarchy."

"So you are not originally from Rotler?"

"Oh, no, not at all. And most people here aren't. Which is why they are so nice. Those who come here have mostly been through a lot. They stay because it is safe and peaceful here and they enjoy that."

"Heard there is almost no crime here too."

"That's right."

"What do you do with the criminals?"

"Exile. For everyone, mercilessly. It might seem barbaric, but it works. Every major crime is punished this way, which is why there are so few people here and the only ones who are left are the kind ones."

"So you kicked out everyone who wasn't a kind and generous person?"

"Sort of. There are some grumpy people here too, but generally speaking, yes, only the kind ones are allowed to stay. Question our methods all you want, but this city stands unconquered since its foundation and those who live here do so in peace. Some people enjoy life in isolation and away from the worries of the world."

It was not something Glavas would support, but he understood. The people here were under no banner but their own. A city that existed as a haven for those too tired of normal life. He respected that, despite the most likely questionable laws.

"So, here we are," Ismaya exclaimed once she led him to a set of stairs leading directly from the street down into the basement of the royal palace.

"Shouldn't this place be guarded?"

"Why? It's locked and thieves here were never successful in their attempts. There is no need for further security." She unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it open. "So, how long do you think it will take you to get rid of all of them?"

"Well, that depends on how quickly they take the bait. It's really hard to say."

"Then I'll come to check on the progress in about half an hour, is that okay?"

"Sure, but I doubt I will be done by then. Half the time is waiting, so just don't be surprised if it's not done yet by that time."

"No worries, Mr. Glavas, I trust your skills. If you need me, I will be inside the palace. The guards should help you find me."

"Sure thing." He finally headed down into the cellar. The place was cold and humid, as one would expect, but surprisingly, there weren't as many riches as Glavas thought there would be in the underground of a palace. He briefly looked into some of the boxes and sacks and found only a handful of building materials or preserved food. Here and there, he also noticed an old and highly decorated piece of furniture, but overall, nothing there gave off the feeling of a royal dungeon. Nevertheless, he was not there to judge the place. He had a job to do.

Glavas reached into his bag and pulled out several components he needed for the trap. Some tiny bones, which he cleaned and kept from the last time he ate a grilled chicken, red chalk, which he bought about three months ago and which had cost him way more than the cooked bird, and finally, some water, which he carried around in a tiny wooden flask. First, he drew the necessary runes on the stone floor. The uneven surface made it much harder than he anticipated, so when he had to redo one rune for the fifteenth time, a muffled "FUCK!" reached even the street beyond the cellar door. Once the rune circle was complete, he put the flask in the middle and quietly muttered the necessary incantation... three times. It was a while since he had last done it and magic required precision with pronunciation. "Shit, I'm getting rusty," he complained after the spell finally started. The flask shook as the runes on the ground glowed ever so slightly. After a while, all was done. The liquid in the flask had been transformed. Glavas opened it up and carefully inserted the chicken bone. A single drop of the water on his skin and he'd spend the next month recovering from a sudden chicken phobia. Once everything was set up, he reached into his pocket and placed a tiny piece of a Softie onto the flask instead of the cap. Now it was only a question of waiting. He stretched his back and let out a groan. As the final step, he had to move further away to make sure he wouldn't be in the zone of effect. Of course, sitting on the ground and waiting was an option, but a cold and wet option that Glavas didn't even want to consider. Instead, he found a bookshelf standing at one of the walls. He carefully climbed up on its top and took a seat. He was just short enough to not have problems with the ceiling. There were, of course, other places for rest, but risking a splinter in his butt after sitting on a cheap crate was certainly not worth it.

With each passing minute, the elven hunter was getting more and more bored. The thought of the potentially delicious alcohol was enough of a motivation for him, but that did not mean his boredom would not be expressed. No position on the bookshelf seemed comfortable enough. He kept on tossing and turning, trying to sit down in a variety of different ways.

Creeeek! Came from the piece of furniture. It got fed up with Glavas who treated it as a mere chair.

"Shit!" he swore as the entire thing fell down with him on it. "Stupid old furniture. I hope that wasn't expensive," he muttered to himself as he saw the remnants on the ground around him. "Well, I can always call it collateral... damage? What the hell?" He turned around to see how bad it looked, only to discover a narrow passageway previously hidden behind the bookshelf.

"The secret escape routes of the monarchs. I knew some castles had them!" Glavas grinned upon his discovery. Then, his eyes returned to the still-untouched trap. He sighed "Well, I'll have to wait anyway. Why not make it interesting?" He said to himself and stepped into the corridor.