The nights in Svarog were a well-crafted lie.
If you stayed awake long enough, you could see the seams: sealed doors, low-burning torches, and — far beyond the stones of the tower — footsteps and screams that did not belong to humans.
The sound came in bursts, like a foul wind passing through cracks in the stone.
The safety inside the tower almost made the residents forget it was those walls that kept their bodies from being torn apart by creatures.
It was the first time Nikolai truly paid attention to the Entrance Gate — now closed. Almost four meters high, reinforced with bands of black iron, internal locks, and engraved runes that slept until awakened by magic. It could only be opened from the inside. And even then, only with an enchantment. In front of it, the outside world could be summed up in a single idea: Impenetrable.
Something scratched outside. Lightly. So lightly it could've just been imagination. The stone didn't yield; it returned the touch like ice returns heat: indifferent.
"Don't worry,"
said Daria beside him, her voice low like the brazier's flame.
"Whatever's out there doesn't come in here."
Ahead, the rest of the group crowded around a scroll pinned to the wall. There were copies on the first and second floors — but the second-floor one had been a mess at dinnertime. A lot of people, like Kuzma, preferred to check later. And that "later" had turned into this quiet room on the first floor, where only the crackling of firewood and hushed murmurs could be heard.
The reading hit Andrei first, who let out an incredulous whistle.
"Holy shit… now I get why no one showed up for cleanup."
He tapped the text.
"Look at these damn benefits."
Ekaterina leaned closer, eyes gleaming — not with ambition, but professional astonishment.
"They didn't even bother to restrict bear lineage…"
she remarked.
"Any tamer can go."
Andrei scoffed, half-laughing, half-offended.
"That's too much privilege for just one year of service."
Daria stepped back, thinking aloud.
"Have you stopped to think about what must be happening out there… for them to stoop to this?"
The comment dropped like a stone in a well. Even Nikolai felt the chill. The rumors about the Empire — war beyond the Misty Sea, vanishing troop columns, cries for help disguised as ceasefires — echoed through every "generous" clause.
"I feel like they need fodder for something,"
said Daria, firmly.
"And honestly, I'm not up for it."
Nikolai nodded, eyes on the scroll without really reading. He preferred to map out burdens and exits. He read the bold words that leapt off the page: voluntary enlistment, granted artifacts, partial exemption, lands on deposit. The more he read, the less it made sense.
"How are they offering all this for just one year of contract?"
Daria insisted, searching for logic in the absurd.
The brazier crackled. Outside, a distant howl pulled others with it, smaller, until they became a chorus. The runes on the Gate pulsed once, a pale blue reflection on the iron — as if the wall breathed.
Kuzma cleared his throat, stepping away from the scroll.
"We're not deciding anything today,"
he declared.
"Information is to be kept. So is life."
Andrei stretched his arms, the leather creaking over his muscles.
"Folks, let's eat. I'm starving — and reading this just makes me wanna do something stupid."
Ekaterina swallowed a smile and lightly tapped her staff on the floor, as if ending the session.
"Done. Stepan better be ready, I'm starving."
Daria brushed Nikolai's forearm as she passed — a brief, almost imperceptible gesture.
"Tomorrow we'll figure out this deal. Today, we eat and sleep."
Nikolai cast one last glance at the Gate. The scratching hadn't returned, but the feeling lingered: whatever walked out there was listening, sniffing, waiting. He took a deep breath, held Marya's notebook to his chest, and followed the others. As they moved away, the smell of fat and soup filled the hallway, pushing away the cold and the fear. At least until the next night.
Vadim had returned to Medved as soon as they came down the stairs. Rules were rules: anyone not part of an active group couldn't remain in Svarog indefinitely. That's why he wouldn't see how lucky the team had been that day.
"Stepan saved us a table,"
Kuzma informed them as soon as they climbed the stairs to the dining hall.
The table was in a secluded area, with a view of the central brazier. On it, cast iron pans were still steaming, and the whole air smelled of good fat, crushed herbs, and caramelizing meat. The day's hunt — but Stepan had turned it into something that barely resembled the four-legged beasts it had come from.
"Help yourselves,"
said Kuzma, trying to sound serious.
"When we're done, I want to talk to you all."
No one waited for ceremony. Forks dove in, knives scraped plates, smiles opened as easily as the meat came apart.
"Hey, leave that drumstick for me!"
"What do you mean, Andrei?"
Ekaterina arched an eyebrow.
"Did the beast have three legs, by any chance? We didn't hunt a triped."
Laughter. Even other tables glanced over, infected by the mood. Nikolai chuckled quietly, that new kind of laugh from someone who's just discovering they belong. He looked around, searching for familiar faces — Irina, Zoya, even Oleg. No one. A brief emptiness passed through his chest.
Had they accepted the Empire's offer? Marya Sobolev had said "five days"... just five days. The Fortress knew how to teach — but it also knew how to select. If he stayed with Kuzma's group, he wouldn't be rejected; on the contrary, he'd be an example of "learning by doing." Viktor and Fedor dreamed of the front lines… he didn't. More and more, his heart whispered: Your place is here.
"Alright, everyone,"
Kuzma raised his mug, steam rising like winter smoke. His smile came easily, between sips and bites.
"First of all, thank you all. And especially to our new member. First toast: to Nikolai!"
"HUUUUU!"
"NIKO-LAI! NIKO-LAI! NIKO-LAI!"
The chant grew, caught on at neighboring tables, echoed off the beams. Nikolai turned red, not knowing what to do with his hands. Ashen, sitting at Nikolai's feet, wagged his tail while chewing on something juicy.
When the noise died down, Kuzma set his mug down and tapped the wood lightly with his knuckles.
"I want to make a proposal."
The dining hall didn't go quiet, but their table did.
"I think it's only fair that Nikolai gets a bigger share of today's hunt."
Silence. Then, a sound of surprise. Andrei chewed slower; Ekaterina tilted her head; Daria pressed her lips together, evaluating.
Kuzma continued:
"He was the one who managed to use the singular power and made the attack easier by closing the breach enough for only one creature to come through at a time."
Some muffled laughs, whistles. The story was already spreading.
"My proposal is simple: the base share will be divided equally among everyone, but I'd like to include a merit bonus for Nikolai, just for today, for having been decisive."
Andrei lightly slapped his thigh — really just his giant hand out of habit.
"I'm all for it,"
he said, mouth full.
"But let's not make this a daily thing or I'll get jealous."
"You're already jealous,"
Ekaterina pinched his arm, smiling.
"I agree too."
Daria looked at Nikolai — not with tenderness, but with respect.
"I agree. He managed to be decisive without blowing through his magic like a lunatic."
She paused.
"As for me, I'll even share a bit of mine with you, Nikolai."
She raised her mug.
"For what you did in the nest."
Kuzma's idea was simple: split the hunt equally among everyone and give Nikolai five extra Simargl — a reward for his role in deciding the battle.
"Guys, I can't accept this,"
Nikolai raised his hands, uncomfortable.
Daria cut him off immediately, leaving no room for false modesty:
"Cut it out. Even if you'd done nothing today, I'd still suggest it. You need proper gear. The truth is, with what we hunted, you won't profit — everything you earn is going straight to your shopping list."
The words settled in his chest like a stone in a lake. She was right. He needed protection for Ashen — a mesh that fit and didn't leave him vulnerable; a proper chainmail shirt in his size; a secondary weapon in case the bow failed in a narrow hallway or close combat; and mana and health potions, so he wouldn't have to rely on Daria for every breath.
Nikolai inhaled, the shame burning less than before.
"I understand… I accept. Thank you. Really."
The table burst into a quick toast; Andrei slammed his mug on the table and whistled. The euphoria settled like the sea after a wave — still foaming, but gentle. He had two days to decide whether to stay in Svarog or return to the Fortress. The next day would be a break — no descent.
At least I'll be able to buy my gear, he thought, and the thought brought a simple, practical relief, almost happiness.
The night went on. Even without drinking what the others drank, Nikolai laughed, ate, and finally let the exhaustion catch up with him. In the room, he fell back onto the bed — Ashen already curled up in the corner, satisfied.
They found out later that the "thief of the third Simargl drumstick" wasn't Andrei: it was Ashen himself, muzzle shining with grease and tail wagging shamelessly.
Nikolai smiled in the dark.
Tomorrow, shopping.
The day after… a decision.
For now, there was only the distant sound of the dining hall, the warmth of the stones, and the silly but precious certainty that — at least today — he had a place.
* * *
Nikolai woke before the sun peeked over the horizon. It was a rest day, but his mind wouldn't stop: shopping list, adjustments, protection for Ashen. He swapped out his prosthesis for a wooden leg — bad for fighting, great for walking without his skin screaming with every step.
"Let's find Daria and Kuzma, buddy,"
he said, scratching behind Ashen's ear.
Kuzma wanted to divide the earnings right at breakfast. In Svarog, buying anything required coins — or marked and sealed strips, which represented parts of specific creatures, catalogued in advance. Instead of carrying an entire Simargl back and forth, you just took the strips that represented its parts and exchanged them for whatever was requested: hide, blood, bones, glands — depending on what the artisan, alchemist, or blacksmith required. Afterward, the material could be retrieved on the first floor. The cost of cutting and cleaning was already included. It was a common system — and preferred, especially by alchemists, who often chose specific components over coins.
It sounded complicated… until Daria explained it calmly, like someone teaching how to tie a boot knot:
"Here's how it works: you say what you want to buy, and the seller tells you how many strips it's worth. Usually, deals go by whole parts — "a Simargl torso," "two front legs" — but sometimes they'll ask for just blood or bone. That's when it gets annoying, because you'll need to split things up. If you can, close deals by full pieces. Life gets easier."
Kuzma pointed to the notebook where he did the math:
"Golden rule: one Simargl equals 10 strips — with that, you make up a full part. So, always try to round off to multiples of ten. That way, they won't try to push stuff on you that you don't want. You really don't want to end up holding a strip of Simargl intestines. Believe me: no one takes that crap."
Nikolai nodded, the math starting to make sense.
"Perfect. Got it. But… are you sure about the two extra pieces?"
The hunt had yielded 42 Simargl: 7 for each of them, but Nikolai ended up with 14 — his 7, plus 5 from the group bonus, and plus 2 that Daria insisted on passing on "to make the start a little less cruel."
"Don't worry, kid,"
Daria said with a crooked smile.
"Unlike you all, I live alone and, as you can see, Kira doesn't eat half as much as a bear."
Kira, small in her lap, watched everything with the funny seriousness of someone born old — and still had light in her eyes.
"Alright,"
Nikolai breathed out, fully accepting it.
"I'll make the most of every piece."
"You'll be surprised by the prices,"
Daria warned as she stood.
"But with 14 parts, you'll walk out today with decent chainmail, protection for Ashen, a secondary weapon, and maybe even something that catches your eye."
Ashen wagged his tail as if he understood "protection for Ashen."
Kuzma stood up with Daria and, before leaving, gave the boy one last tip:
"Go early, bargain, and don't buy from the first place. They'll smell fresh meat from a mile away — the goal is to make them fight each other for the sale."
They disappeared down the corridor. Suddenly, it was just Nikolai, a bundle of strips and coins in his pocket, and freedom pressing on his chest.
"Let's go, Ashen."
The bear let out a short growl — almost a laugh — and the two of them headed up toward the upper floors.