Before turning the road, I looked around. Scarecrow stood in the same place as before.
"Maybe he likes to scare the crows?" Muttered my companion.
"I do not exclude such a possibility. In any case, it was worth a try."
A country road wagged among the uncultivated fields and seemed long abandoned. No trace. However, the impression was deceptive. People appeared here, as evidenced by at least a new hedge. We reached a crossroads where the main road led to Vilton, the third largest city in the Firwalden Kingdom.
The air smelled of hot summers and thunderstorms gathering in the east. Restless swallows were running right on the ground, grasshoppers chatter like mad. In general, nothing interesting. I am indifferent to rural landscapes. And if my horse had not limped and I would not have sold it to some roguish type, I would have started to look around the area better.
I stopped near the road pillar that marked the miles, glanced at the dry figure of the Priest, thought to sharpen the dagger, but a coach appeared on the road, for which I immediately thanked my luck.
The coachman stopped the carriage that was rumbling on the hill, I paid him for the ride, glad that it took less than an hour to go to the city and my bones would not have time to turn into powder from shaking. I climbed into the carriage, sat down on the seat, which smelled of leather and greeted the passengers. There were only three of them, so it was spacious inside. The Priest has gone somewhere. Or I went along with the coachman or decided to take a walk on foot. I didn't care about him. That's really who, but this bore from me is not going anywhere, time tested.
I tucked the bag under the seat, stuffing it deeper. An elderly lady, who was sitting next to me, was extremely sour in appearance and in a black cap gave me a not too admiring glance and squeezed the tortoise handle of the bag, as if fearing that she would be robbed. I smiled sweetly at her, but I didn't have the proper effect. For her, I was too strange a gentleman who hiked along country roads.
Opposite me, a young man in a black velvet beret with an embroidered emblem of the Savran University, a respected and prestigious institution, freely settled down. Apparently, the student returned to his homeland for the holidays. His eyes were agile, so he almost immediately noticed the dagger hilt from under my velvet jacket unbuttoned. Unmistakably defining the nature of my activity, he frowned, and for the next twenty minutes I was under shooting of his gaze, full of righteous silent indignation.
I was absolutely not care, and his intrusive attention did not irritate me at all. Finally, the student coughed and said passionately:
"People like you have no place in the free kingdom!"
"Thanks for the information," I thanked him politely, glancing at the third passenger.
It seems that he was smiling, in any case, his eyes were cheerful.