A dirty magician – golden mask. RemVoVo

said. A sword appeared in place of the staff. The hilt had the same skull, and the sword was almost a meter long. But again it was very light. I waved it several times. Comfortable. I liked the sword better. At least it’s clear how to use it. I have no manna at all.

      – It cuts through everything. Although, as always, there are limitations. He himself determines the owner. Look here. “He took the sword from my hands. It immediately turned into a staff. The skull is extinguished. – Blade. – But nothing happened. – You see. He accepted you.

      – For how much you sell. – Aralia said. The sight of the skull fascinated her. People here are greedy for trinkets.

      – Honestly I do not know. I got it purely for luck. He wandered around the world from hand to hand for many millennia. No one could use it like that. Except for Mikhail. So my great-grandfather got it in exchange for a bag of buckwheat. So two hundred gold.

      “You can buy fields of buckwheat with this money.” Twenty or we'll leave. Look for other fools for that amount. – Aralia said, winking at me. She began to treat me noticeably warmer.

      – Fourty. And here you have, to boot, gloves made of smooth rat leather. – Orliy pulled out a pair of black gloves from the counter. I tried it on. Lightweight and durable. I nodded to the young lady.

      – Here comes the money. “She pulled money out of thin air.” She kissed me again on the mask and we said goodbye and left the store. On the street she said. – How lucky we were. We have money. And I haven’t seen such things for a long time. Now we are not ashamed to enter the guild. Otherwise I know their manners. Those who don't have cool equipment are looked at as empty space. We don't need this. You are my champion. “She pressed her whole body against me. So nice.

      Chapter 3 Guild

      This is the guild. Modest two-story brick rear. The only thing that distinguished it from others was the nondescript sign. How easily they destroy my dreams. Where are the dragons on the towers near the entrance. There is nothing. Only a fat guard in old armor at the entrance. He looked at us and, spitting on the ground, opened the door. I wanted to smile at him, but remembering that I was wearing a mask, I didn’t do it. At least the view inside didn't disappoint. Cheerful music of three dwarven musicians. Tables where they played dice and cards. Stand with stone task tablets. And three reception desks. Of course, with elf curators. Everyone is wearing blue sundresses and blue hair. But they didn’t have big breasts. It's a pity.

      – What you need? – asked the lady centaur blocking our path. Her bust was outstanding. Size five no less. Aralia didn't like her right away.