Chapter 871 - 870: The Swallow That Accidentally Strayed into the World of Gaia."

Time flowed unhurriedly, but Dean firmly intended to devote all the remaining morning hours to one noble goal—the triumphant ascent to the summit of Kalm's card Olympus.

And he was not in the least bothered by the fact that he had to fight for the title of the strongest opponent against an eleven-year-old little girl. Dean knew perfectly well: "Queen's Blood" was by no means a children's amusement, but a genuine national sport uniting players of all ages in every corner of the boundless Gaia.

Since little Nene confidently held the second line of the town ranking, she should be treated with all the severity of a tournament fighter. Tuning himself for victory, Dean with a professional click laid out the deck in front of himself.

Meanwhile in the hotel rooms blessed silence reigned. Barret and Red XIII continued to sleep like the dead, clearly not intending to get up until noon. The same applied to Aerith, Claudia, and Yuffie, who had collapsed without feeling in the neighboring room after two days of exhausting races for survival.

Up above, on the sun-drenched terrace, everything was far more serene. No matter how strongly the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and crispy buns drifting from below tempted him, Alex preferred to sacrifice breakfast for a far more valuable trophy. Carefully setting the thick detective volume aside on the table, he more comfortably intercepted the dozing Tifa, pressed her closer to himself, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax a little.

"And here, perhaps, it's cozy. This little town will make an excellent warm-up before going out onto the big stage. Since Lucifer so craved spectacles… perhaps the time has come to arrange a truly grandiose concert, not limiting ourselves to Midgar alone," Alex mentally said with a light, anticipatory smirk, tenderly burying his fingers in Tifa's dark hair.

Recalling the deal concluded with the elder brother Lucifer, Alex felt simultaneously a dull irritation and light amusement. On the one hand, the very idea of arranging grandiose concerts that would spread to every corner of the planet where there was at least a primitive receiver seemed incredibly funny to him. On the other—it frankly pissed him off that Lucifer in his signature manner had preferred to "forget" about some critically important details of the structure of this world.

However, considering Lucifer's already established principle of never lying directly, Alex could only sigh with annoyance: it was his own fault that he had not read the fine print on the fields of their contract and had not asked the necessary questions in time. Deciding not to clutter his head with senseless regrets, Alex closed his eyes. Pressing the peacefully snoring Tifa more tightly to himself, he allowed himself to sink into the most ordinary, healthy sleep under the rustling shadow umbrella.

And at the same time, while serene morning silence reigned over Kalm, in a completely different place an entirely different life was boiling. Along an old, half-forgotten highway cutting through picturesque plains with emerald meadows, solitary trees, and rocky ridges, a powerful off-roader raced at full speed.

Behind the wheel of the jeep with a nonchalant, lazy air sat Valerie. Elbow out the open window, she lightly tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the melody coming from the speakers.

Next to her, in the passenger seat, sat Angel. Without tearing her concentrated gaze from the screen of the laptop resting on her knees, she only nodded her head in sync with the radio wave.

In the back seat settled Heather, who was occupied with inspiredly and colorfully proving over the connection to her father Harry that everything was fine with her, and the world in which she found herself was completely safe and far from their habitual nightmare.

And only one guy diluted this motley female company. Chadley, who with incredible difficulty had managed to escape from Midgar and slip out from under the stifling, intrusive control of Professor Hojo, sat holding his breath.

Finding himself for the first time in his life beyond the concrete walls and steel dome, he literally pressed his forehead against the side glass, enchanted, observing the living, juicy landscapes that he had previously seen only on dull archival blueprints.

"I was a teenage outlaw. With no worries on my mind. And now I'm getting older. My heart is growing colder, oh, that's fine…" Valerie sang with a wide smile, nodding her head to the beat of the music and lightly tapping her fingers on the leather upholstery of the steering wheel.

"Hey, V, any idea how much longer we have to drive? I still can't catch a normal signal from the local radio tower," Angel inquired, muting the speakers on the dashboard and nodding at the screen of her laptop.

"Based on the data I extracted from the archives, the village of Claymore is literally five minutes' drive from our current location. Right beyond that mountain ridge whose peak resembles a two-handed sword," Chadley unexpectedly spoke up, leaning out from the back seat between the chairs. With a light touch he activated the technological monocle and pointed a finger at the windshield.

"Well then, consider us arrived. Chadley, are you at least sure that next to this backwoods there's even the tower you need?" Valerie shrugged carelessly, for a second casting a glance at the guy through the rearview mirror.

"Absolutely. In my database the coordinates of all Shinra infrastructure objects are recorded. Connecting to one of such towers, I will be able to instantly scan the entire surrounding region for the presence of monsters, anomalies, and valuable natural resources," Chadley answered with a sincere smile, carefully adjusting the monocle and fishing a tablet from the backpack.

"Whoa, that's really convenient. Maybe you'll dig up something else interesting from your archives?" Heather drawled with genuine surprise, hiding the phone in her pocket after she had finally managed to convince her father that nothing threatened her life.

"Excellent question, Heather! Do you know that the village of Claymore received its name precisely thanks to that very mountain? And during the war with Wutai an eponymous Shinra outpost was located here, which had colossal strategic significance for the transfer of troops and supplies to neighboring sectors," Chadley picked up enthusiastically, clicking on the screen and projecting a volumetric hologram of the terrain above the tablet so that the girls could also see it.

The moment Chadley enthusiastically unfolded the historical reference, a long, martyr-like sigh escaped from Valerie's throat. Listening to lectures about what exactly the little village of Claymore was before it became an ordinary settlement was something she wanted not at all.

Turning the music louder, Valerie ran a finger over the smartphone's touch screen and opened the Guild application. Recounting the available contracts, she nodded with satisfaction: fortunately, since their morning departure from Midgar the list of orders for the group had not increased by a single line.

Leaning back against the driver's seat under the lively rhythms of the radio station, Valerie with a light smirk recalled Jessie's face. In the morning the latter had flown to her with stunned, widely opened eyes and a whole million questions.

And all thanks to Alex's unexpected "gift"—a clot of memories about his true essence and the real nature of their world. Recalling that avalanche of questions that Jessie had managed to dump on her right before the departure, Valerie began to understand perfectly what exactly her older brother felt every time he tried to explain the details of his personality to someone.

And she was insanely glad that covering for all of this was no longer her duty. Continuing to smile at her own thoughts, Valerie leaned closer to the windshield. Ahead, beyond the bend of the road, the impressive stone fortifications of Claymore appeared, more resembling an ancient military bastion than a habitual province.

"Looks like we've arrived. I hope they won't make us fill out a hundred papers at the entrance," Valerie spoke up, attracting the attention of the others and pointing at the approaching gates.

"Listen, is this really a village? From this angle Claymore looks more like an impregnable little town. Or do I not understand something about local architecture?" Heather drawled with undisguised amazement, leaning out of the window and examining the massive stone masonry.

"The outer walls were decided not to be demolished because of the high activity of wild monsters in these parts. However, the entire internal space has long been re-equipped for the safe life of the civilian population," Chadley explained in a calm, businesslike tone, nodding toward the meadow where a pack of gray wolves was sliding through the tall grass.

"And that means they definitely have a normal hotel. Excellent, because the prospect of spending the night in the car or under the open sky somehow didn't inspire me," Angel spoke with a relieved smile, putting the laptop into the backpack.

"And maybe there's even a notice board there! I've always wanted to take a real contract and track down a couple of beasts. It would be cool to feel like a full-fledged monster hunter," Heather added enthusiastically, lighting up with excitement at the possibility of trying something new.

"Then first of all we park and go on reconnaissance," Valerie answered with a light smile, carelessly resting her cheek on her fist and beginning to smoothly reduce speed on the approach to the main gates of Claymore.

Angel and Heather were completely not against immediately arranging a small excursion—the surrounding landscapes truly captivated with their pristine beauty. Emerald meadows with tall grass and colorful flowers where graceful herbivores grazed peacefully; majestic rocky hills on the opposite side of Claymore and a dense, flowering forest approaching the very border of the village. Considering the request to collect samples of the local fauna, a pleasant walk in the fresh air could easily be combined with useful work.

Pulling up to the open gates of Claymore, Valerie automatically slowed down, expecting that the local patrol would stop them to check documents. However, freezing at the entrance, she discovered with surprise that the guard booth was empty and there were no guards in sight.

Exchanging glances with Heather and Angel, on whose faces similar bewilderment was readable, Valerie only carelessly shrugged her shoulders and resolutely floored the gas pedal. Leaving the jeep on a small parking spot by the gates, Valerie, Heather, and Angel were the first to exit the cabin onto the street.

From the inside the stone fortifications of Claymore seemed even more colorful: neat paved streets, cozy two-story houses with tiled roofs, noisy shops, and invitingly smoking taverns gave the settlement the charm of a true fairy-tale little town.

While the trio of girls examined the nearest trading stalls, Chadley nimbly jumped out of the back seat of the jeep. Adjusting the backpack on his shoulders, he, without uttering a word, with quick, wide steps rushed deep into the street—straight to the building of the local library where the public access archival terminal was located.

"And where did he rush off to so fast? Didn't even say 'thanks for the ride,'" Angel spoke, raising an eyebrow and nodding after the departing Chadley, who had not even bothered to brief them.

"No idea. He's still an AI, who knows what algorithms jammed in his processor. If he needs something, he'll call. I didn't leave him my number just for nothing," Valerie waved off lazily, putting on sunglasses and not worrying about the fugitive in the least.

"So, where do we head first? Book rooms at the hotel or straight to the tavern? In places like this hunting contracts are usually handed out right at the bar counter!" Heather clapped her hands excitedly, adjusting the scabbard with the katana on her shoulder and tightening the backpack straps.

"I wouldn't mind grabbing a bite somewhere first… The smell is simply divine," Angel drawled thoughtfully, with longing drawing in the wonderful aroma coming from the nearest street bakery.

"And why choose? We'll do everything at once on the move. The stalls are right in front of us, and in the tavern we'll just arrange the rooms and pick up a couple of juicy orders," Valerie winked with a predatory smirk, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket.

Having decided on the route, Valerie, Angel, and Heather first of all rushed to the street stall from which the entire surrounding area reeked of a mind-blowing, intoxicating aroma of meat fried on coals. Approaching closer, they stared enchanted at the vendor who deftly wielded tongs, turning juicy pieces and generously brushing them with a spicy sauce.

From the mere sight of the fat dripping onto the coals the girls' stomachs growled in unison and rather treacherously. Swallowing the rising saliva, Valerie without extra reflection laid out gil for ten weighty skewers, not even trying to clarify to which exact inhabitant of the local fauna this culinary masterpiece belonged.

Stepping aside, the trio immediately pounced on the hot catch. Taking just one bite each, the girls nodded with delight: the meat turned out so tender, juicy, and saturated with spices that it fully justified the aroma that had lured them. Raising their spirits with such a successful start, Valerie, Heather, and Angel set off further to wander along the rows of the small morning market.

Peeking from stall to stall, they bought up a whole pile of memorable souvenirs and useful little things, at the same time unobtrusively extracting from the traders the latest gossip about Claymore and the dangerous places in the vicinity. Having learned the way to the best establishment in the area, the girls unhurriedly moved to a street entirely built up with inns and beer halls.

"'Chimera's Head'… Looks like this is the place," Heather said thoughtfully, pointing a finger at the carved sign swinging above the entrance with the image of a fierce three-headed monster.

"Well, from the inside everything looks quite classic. And I was originally expecting something in the spirit of the Adventurers' Guild in Orario… You know: crowds of noisy idiots who yell at the registrars or try to palm off suspicious monster crystals," Angel spoke, peeking into the cloudy window glass and turning to Heather and Valerie.

"Found something to compare with; this is a provincial little town. It's already surprising that they even threw up a full-fledged tavern here and not just nailed a notice board to a fence. Fine, let's go inside," Valerie rolled her eyes with a chuckle, adjusting the strap of her backpack.

Bestowing an expressive look on Valerie, Angel only rolled her eyes with a chuckle and, tightening the backpack strap, stepped over the threshold of the tavern. Heather, before following her friends, decided to capture the moment: quickly taking out her phone, she took a couple of excellent selfies against the background of the colorful carved sign with the three-headed monster. Putting the gadget into her pocket, she hopped after the others. Finding themselves inside, the girls looked around with interest.

The interior fully justified expectations but pleasantly surprised with cleanliness: neat rows of massive wooden tables and benches at which local residents unhurriedly dined and discussed the latest news; a long bar counter by the far wall behind which the owner of the establishment was animatedly talking about something with a guest; and a little behind a staircase leading to the second floor was visible, where rooms for tired travelers were clearly located.

Heather even took a couple more stealthy shots, mentally deciding to forward them to her father so he would not worry—the atmosphere in the "Chimera's Head" reigned surprisingly peaceful and homely. No drunken brawlers roaring songs from dawn to dusk.

However, the idyll was broken by a sharp, ringing clap that came right from the side of the bar counter. Startled by the unexpectedness, Valerie, Heather, and Angel synchronously turned their heads toward the sound and clearly heard an indignant, angry female voice immediately replaced by conciliatory but rather careless justifications of the tavern owner himself.

"Listen, choom, don't try to sweet-talk me and hand over my honest remaining gil! I spent the entire damned night hanging around that stinking cave, fending off six Archdragons instead of the three you chirped about! You owe me overtime pay, and double at that!" the stranger spoke every word through gritted teeth, raising her voice and angrily slamming her palm on the poster torn from the board and poking a finger right into the face of the tavern owner.

"I'm telling you for the hundredth time, sweetie… The order was clearly drawn up for three specimens. That you overfulfilled the plan and wiped out an entire pack is your personal problem and initiative. Want to squeeze out bonuses? Go demand rights from that informant who leaked those data to the Guild," the owner of the establishment answered, lazily smirking but trying to save face, continuing to wipe a dirty rag over a glass tumbler.

"And since when is that my problem? It's not my informant who brought the rotten, pathetic information, but yours. So either you count out another three thousand gil on top right now, or I take them myself. Whether you want it or not," the girl said in a cold voice, grabbing the hilt of the sword on her back.

For a second absolute, ringing silence hung in the tavern—even the patrons chewing at the far tables froze with spoons in midair. Seeing what was happening, Valerie, Heather, and Angel looked with interest at the girl who looked as if at one wrong word she would jump over the bar counter and start beating the tavern owner. They considered this a rather pleasant spectacle that they had stumbled upon by happy chance.

"Aren't you afraid of choking on my gil, little one?" the owner hissed, dangerously narrowing his eyes and dropping the mask of a good-natured innkeeper, stopping smiling.

"Me? Not a bit. But you in your place should sleep with your eyes open. What if tomorrow your head accidentally flies off your shoulders? Or you wake up in the teeth of some hungry mutant in the deep thicket. All sorts of things happen in this life, you know…" the girl threw with a mocking challenge, leaning forward a little and allowing the blade of the sword to emerge a couple of centimeters from the scabbard with a ringing metallic scrape.

Casting another long, piercing look at the stranger, the tavern owner finally discerned the thin scars crossing her arms and cheekbone. The main thing reached him: before him was by no means a green brat whom one could shortchange with impunity on half the earnings, but a seasoned fighter.

And when the metal in the scabbard clanged even louder, the bartender finally lost the last remnants of his feigned toughness. He slammed the clean glass onto the counter with a crash and irritably clicked his tongue—he still valued life far more than a couple of thousand gil held back.

Twisting a contemptuous grimace, he jerked open the cash register, pulled out a weighty stack of banknotes, and, counting out the missing three thousand, with a dull clap threw them right in front of the girl's nose. Having confirmed that the calculation was correct, the girl released the hilt of the sword.

With a deft movement scooping the money from the counter, she quickly counted them on the fly, bestowed a last heavy look on the owner, and, turning on her heels, headed to the farthest table plunged into semi-darkness in the corner of the tavern.

The trio standing at the entrance observed this scene with genuine interest. Valerie, Heather, and Angel instantly caught the elusive details—the manner of holding herself, the accent, the equipment—and without difficulty understood: this girl had likewise been thrown here from a completely different universe.

"V, you noticed it too, right?" Angel drawled in a whisper, barely audibly nudging Valerie with her elbow, who, narrowing her eyes, was watching the departing swordswoman.

"Of course. Looks like the day is ceasing to be boring. Frankly, I never expected to meet someone else from another world here. Seems this trip is becoming more and more interesting," Valerie smirked, slightly shifting the dark glasses on her nose.

"So what do we do? Go introduce ourselves and ask how fate brought her here, or start behaving like amateur spies and observe her from the side?" Heather inquired, folding her arms over her chest and thoughtfully biting her lip.

Exchanging glances, Valerie, Heather, and Angel quickly came to a unanimous conclusion: simply standing like a pillar and building guesses was a senseless occupation. It was far simpler to approach and introduce themselves on the spot.

After all, one does not every day stumble upon a native of a completely different world who at the same time is not listed in any Guild registries. Transferring their gaze to the far corner of the tavern where the stranger was gloomily sipping ale from a glass mug, the girls began examining her more carefully.

Ash-gray hair gathered into a neat but slightly tousled bun at the back of the head; several strands falling onto the cheeks and casting a shadow on the emerald-green eyes; a thin scar running across the entire left cheek—her image was remembered instantly.

She wore a worn black leather jacket from under which a white shirt with several unbuttoned buttons was visible, and right on her chest rested a silver amulet in the form of a snarling wolf's muzzle. The waist was emphasized by a light leather corset with protective plates, and the narrow trousers were tucked into high boots with a small heel.

Had Alex been in this tavern, he would have instantly recognized the girl standing before them—Cirilla of Cintra, the possessor of the unique gift of traveling between worlds thanks to the Elder Blood flowing in her veins.

But Valerie, Heather, and Angel so far knew nothing about her, and therefore they were driven only by sincere curiosity. Taking a few steps toward the table, Valerie swept a look over Cirilla's costume in which elements of medieval armor and modern practicality strangely intertwined.

"Hi. Mind company?" Valerie spoke with a light, friendly smile. With an elegant movement removing the sunglasses, she without any invitation sat down on the free chair right opposite.

Sipping the bitterish ale, Cirilla had not even managed to open her mouth when a stranger settled onto the chair opposite her, and next to her two more companions perched. Slightly raising her eyebrows in surprise, the witcher tensed and switched on her internal defense mechanisms.

Casting a quick, piercing glance at the company, Cirilla immediately latched onto the details: their clothing differed strikingly from everything she had managed to see in these provincial parts. But what truly attracted her gaze was the collar of the leather jacket of the girl with bright-red hair—on the fabric a distinct emblem of the rock group SAMURAI stood out.

Cirilla had already seen such a logo earlier, in one of the technological worlds where she had been carried during her wanderings. Transferring her eyes to the two other companions, she noted their bearing, the hidden weapons, and the barely perceptible trail of unfamiliar, alien power.

And yet intuition whispered: these three had come not at all for her scalp. Cirilla slightly loosened her grip on the mug, but did not hurry to relax completely—the scars on her body and soul remembered too well what blind trust in "harmless" strangers leads to.

What oppressed her far more was something else: having ended up in this universe, she had lost a colossal part of her strength. Any attempt to call upon the Elder Blood and cut through the fabric of space crashed against a blank wall.

Trying to open a portal now was akin to trying to swim on a rotten log in the middle of a force-nine storm—useless and deadly dangerous. Valerie, Heather, and Angel, in their turn, studied the girl sitting before them with no less interest, with each second becoming more and more convinced: before them sat a one-hundred-percent guest from a completely different universe.

"And for what reason did you sit down at all? I somehow didn't notice that tables around were empty," Cirilla said in an even tone devoid of any hospitality, slowly and evaluatively sweeping a look over Valerie, Heather, and Angel.

"We just decided to get acquainted. Agree, one doesn't every day in some backwoods tavern stumble upon a person capable of jumping through other worlds," Valerie smiled radiantly, carelessly resting her elbows on the wooden tabletop.

"I have no idea what you're talking about…" Cirilla immediately switched on the habitual defensive reaction, already calculating paths of retreat and preparing to leave the suspicious company as soon as possible.

"Oh, come on, stop playing hard to get; we're not locals ourselves either. We also arrived from other universes. We're just encountering for the first time someone who can travel between worlds independently without being attached to any interdimensional guilds," Angel interrupted her, leaning forward and not allowing Cirilla to rise.

"Also? From other worlds? Guild?.. Fine… to hell with you, let's talk. I'm Cirilla of Cintra. And you?" Cirilla spoke, stunned, raising her eyebrows, freezing for a second from the stream of information, and then slowly settling back onto the chair.

"Now the conversation is on the right track! I'm Valerie Voldigoad, but you can just call me V. The dark-haired girl is Angel; she's kind of a Siren, or something like a demigod in her native universe. And this is Heather, behind whose back some rather unpleasant little monsters hide. Well, and what do you have to boast about, Ciri?" Valerie beamed with a satisfied smile, introducing herself and her friends.

"Let's just say… I have an inborn gift of opening doors between any dimensions. Because of a glitch of that very power I got stuck here. But you still didn't say, V, what your own superpower is?" Cirilla answered, slightly grimacing from unpleasant memories and involuntarily omitting the fact that right now this gift was blocked.

"So you can do tricks with portals. Well, cool… And with me everything's simple. My main power is my older brother. Who can do absolutely anything, and even on top of that!" Valerie answered with a wide, self-satisfied smirk, raising her chin upward.

Casting a heavy look at Valerie, Cirilla slightly pursed her lips. It stung her—even though she tried not to show it—with what ease the latter had christened her greatest gift ordinary "tricks with portals."

For herself this damned ability had all her life been not a blessing but a curse that had tightly attached a giant target to her back. Everyone who even a little understood the true value of the Elder Blood desired only one thing: to take this power into their own hands and lock her herself on a golden chain, using her as an incubator tool.

From these intrusive memories cats immediately scratched at her heart, and the emerald eyes darkened. The situation was aggravated by the fact that she was stuck in an absolutely unfamiliar world who knows how and why, and the magic inside her seemed to have choked.

The only thing that warmed her soul even a drop was that the Wild Hunt would definitely not be able to scent her here, and that meant she had time for a breather to restore reserves and make a new attempt to punch a breach in reality. Driving away the gloomy swarm of thoughts, Cirilla returned to the harsh reality. Surviving in an unfamiliar place somehow had to be done until her internal "batteries" finally recharged.

Evaluatively looking at Valerie, Heather, and Angel, Cirilla came to the conclusion that for the time being this trio would fully do as companions—at least they radiated strength and independence. And although no one had ever taught her to blindly trust strangers, Cirilla decided to resort to an old, tested method: loosen the tongue with unconstrained chatter in order to carefully extract from the new acquaintances maximum details and probe their true motives.

"And how did you end up in this world at all?" Cirilla asked in a low voice, slightly leaning forward so that their conversation would not reach the neighboring tables.

"Alex, V's older brother, is working here right now. He asked us to help with one matter while he himself was busy with the main task," Angel answered, pointing a finger at herself, Valerie, and Heather, making it clear to Cirilla what they were occupied with in this world.

"And with what, if it's not a secret?" Cirilla inquired with lively interest, taking another sip of ale and continuing to carefully probe the ground.

"While he with his new companions stormed the Shinra headquarters, we were tasked with getting the kidnapped children out of there. As Alex himself puts it, it was necessary to 'earn team points,'" Heather spoke with a chuckle, folding her arms over her chest and slightly rocking on the back legs of the chair.

"Shinra? Sounds familiar… Ah, right. Yesterday on the radio they reported that President Shinra is dead, and the chair was taken by his son. So it was your brother who offed him?" Cirilla said thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side and fishing from memory fragments of yesterday's gossip.

"Nope, not him. So, girls, let's get out of here. Blabbing about such things in a packed tavern is a lousy idea. Who knows whose ears are warming nearby. Better we grab some proper food and hole up in a quiet place. Especially since Alex slipped me something from his personal alcohol reserves," Valerie smirked, immediately rising from the chair and picking up the backpack.

"What alcohol?" Cirilla clarified with considerable curiosity, noticing how Angel and Heather had already picked up their things.

"Just a drink that the gods themselves brewed and handed to my brother as a present. They dumped a whole mountain of treasures on him then—gold, souvenirs, interior items. After he rebuilt the entire system in Valhalla," Valerie spoke with anticipation in her voice, for a second fishing from the backpack the carved neck of a bottle.

"What, excuse me?! Gods? Your brother helped the gods, and they gifted him presents?! Since when do deities hand out gifts to mortals? Or do I not understand something about this life?!" Cirilla asked, coughing. She stared at Valerie in astonishment, nearly choking on the ale and sincerely doubting her own sanity.

"And who told you that my older brother is a mortal? Where did you even get that from?" Valerie asked in surprise, freezing for a second and looking at Cirilla with a raised eyebrow, putting the bottle back and bestowing upon her an absolutely bewildered look.

From such a stunning statement Cirilla involuntarily opened her mouth, preparing to deliver a caustic retort, but bit her tongue in time. Looking around, she noticed that Valerie, Heather, and Angel were already confidently heading toward the exit of the tavern. At the doors Valerie turned and briefly beckoned her with her hand, inviting her to keep them company instead of sulking alone among alien walls.

Cirilla froze for a second in indecision. On the one hand, caution was fully rebelling in her: getting involved with the one whose brother was not simply a mortal, after her own bitter experience with higher powers, seemed madness.

On the other—wild, restless curiosity took the upper hand. In the end, Cirilla calculated, if things got hot, she could always squeeze the last sparks of magic from the withered "batteries" to tear space and make a getaway.

Draining the remaining ale in a single gulp, she resolutely rose from the chair and followed the trio. Returning to the trading street in expanded composition, the girls without delay looked into the stalls, buying aromatic meat cuts, cheeses, and crispy snacks ideally suited to strong alcohol.

Loaded with tasty snacks, they moved toward the massive stone city wall, searching for a quiet spot far from prying eyes. Seeing the barrier, Cirilla already wanted to inquire what the hell they had dragged themselves to a dead end for, when she suddenly froze with an open mouth.

Valerie, hands in the pockets of her jacket, with an absolutely lazy air stepped right onto the vertical surface and walked upward as if submitting to the laws of her own gravity. Before Cirilla could blink, Heather dissolved into the dense shadow at the base of the masonry and immediately materialized on the very crest of the wall.

A moment later a soft palm of Angel rested on the witcher's shoulder—the world lit up with a bright but painless flash of light, and the air around sharply changed density. When vision returned, Cirilla discovered herself sitting on a stone parapet blown by all winds.

On one side stretched green meadows flooded with morning sun, on the other—the peaceful roofs of Claymore. While Cirilla blinked in astonishment, trying to grasp the physics of what had happened, Valerie, Heather, and Angel were already arranging themselves more comfortably in full swing, anticipating the tasting.

Slightly rubbing her forehead that ached from such tricks, Cirilla only resignedly shrugged her shoulders. With a deft, precise movement she easily jumped onto the parapet next to Valerie, dangling one leg into the void and tucking the other under herself, resting her elbow on her knee.

Meanwhile Valerie extracted from the depths of her bottomless inventory four massive glasses. With one quick movement tearing off the sealed cork from the exotic bottle, she generously poured into each of them a dense, sparkling in the rays of the sun drink from which an incredible, intoxicating aroma of aged centuries immediately wafted.

"Well, to the acquaintance. I think we'll spend far more time together than you originally planned. After all, we are similar," Valerie smiled radiantly, ringingly raising her glass and extending it toward Cirilla.

"Your displacement tricks are excellent, girls. To the acquaintance… I'll drink, perhaps. Only on the condition that we really get to know each other better. And why did you decide that we are similar?" Cirilla chuckled, accepting from her hands the glass with the alluring amber drink.

"Everything's simple. In your gaze the expression of a person who has spent her entire conscious life raking shit with big shovels is clearly readable," Angel threw lazily, looking with a cynical smirk at the meadows flooded with the rising sun.

Cirilla froze for a second and then laughed almost inaudibly—not cheerfully, but sincerely. Taking a small sip of the divine nectar, she closed her eyes in surprise: the softest caramel sweetness with a light spicy aftertaste instantly spread across her palate, warming from within far more effectively than any witcher decoction.

"Seriously? You too? And what troubles happened to you? If, of course, it's not a secret," in Cirilla's voice genuine curiosity about what her new acquaintances had gone through slipped through.

"Then settle more comfortably on the parapet. The story is long, and the day is only beginning," Heather suggested, stretching sweetly and turning to Cirilla with her entire body.

To be continued...

(As I promised, Ciri has appeared in the story. She will show up again later, but it's time to return to the town of Kalm—and then leave it behind to move on. The young women will have their own adventure, while Alex and his group will have theirs. Still, I've managed to fulfill my dream of bringing Ciri into the plot; I spent so long racking my brain over when and how to introduce her, and now—here she is. Well, I won't write anything more; let's leave these four young women—who have all endured such difficult lives—to their heart-to-heart conversation. I'm off to grab a bite to eat and a beer. Peace, love, and the Swallow—who always happens to fly into the wrong place by accident.)

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