CHAPTER THREE

                                    

                                          
Petar looked up and found himself face-to-face with the man who killed his father, "What's going on here?" the man asked at Zeritos, Petar spoke first, not letting go of his fist, "They stole my coins." "Proof?" he asked, Petar picked up one gold coin, "I found that at one of them, two more missing and ten pieces of silver." "How do you know they're yours?" he asked, and Petar finally let go, "Where did one ordinary soldier get a gold coin?" he said, burning with a desire to scratch the scar and depart Remeses head from his shoulder. Remes raised his hand, palm up, "Give it back to him..." he said, "Sir Ezil.." said one, "he attacked us-" "Give him back what belongs to him!" Ezil growled and pointed Petar's Mist Blade at his face. Reluctantly, they took out three pieces of silver each and handed them to Ezil,  Petar ducked down to take the rest from the third, the headless one, "And you," Ezil said, turning, "There are rules here, even the likes of you have to abide by them." Petar took his coins and turned. His heart as heavy as lead in his chest. Now was neither the place nor the time for it. He opened the door leading out, at least that's what he thought, he ended up in another room. This one had a window through which the sunlight was coming in. He scratched his scar, but that wasn't enough, it burned, just like it did for months after the fire. Petar opened the door under the window and went outside. Amongst the people. And there were a lot of them, the town market was obviously right next city to gates, because he could smell everything from fish to wrought metal. People were walking left and right, up, and down the market, he swerved off it into one narrow street, then turned left so he could parallelly follow the large street. Petar was watching the street, studying the people, seeing two boys pull of an elaborate scam. Thieves without a doubt. Homeless, maybe. Something fluttered over him and he looked up, he saw a flying rodent, relatives of those he used to catch at home, these here had bigger wings and more fur, but were more or less the same. Petar gently pulled the throwing knife off his belt; the rodent took off. Petar threw the knife, the creature convulsed, and started falling. It hit it straight into the neck. It fell, some ten meters away. He slowly walked forward; he was in no hurry. Petar had to stay calm and achieve his goals. He arrived at his next meal. Petar took off his woolly gloves and put leather ones on. He slit its guts, making sure he didn't cut the small transparent sack, which was found in the creature's belly. It was just under its stomach, occupying a good part around and behind it too. Two thin bones held it in place, he broke them and a half-empty sack soared into the air, it was filled with some kind of gas, he didn't know what it was, but he didn't really care. He grabbed the bag and pierced it. The gas rushed out of it and the sack was almost ripped out of his hand, but Petar tightened his grip, watching the gas simmer out. He knew that it was good for restarting a fire, just blow it on the coals and boom, the fire was alive again. But the bag couldn't hold the gas for more than ten minutes after the rodent's death, so it was useless to him, at least at the moment. He extended the slit and gently removed the rodent's heart from its chest, then cut off its legs and put them in that now empty sack. That needed to dry out, then a good soup can be made of it. He left wings on, he didn't like them, but in some parts of the world they were a delicacy, and he didn't like throwing food away. No matter how little of it. Or in this case how disgusting it was. He lifted it by the tail and fastened it right next to those two thin animals. That'll be his dinner. Petar resumed walking, he had to find a place to sleep before it got dark. He swerved off that street and followed the next one to the end, then went left and then right. Hoping to find a tavern or an empty home. Petar stopped in his tracks, he found himself in front of a house slightly larger than the others, all of which were two-story houses, except for that one that was three stories high, with an additional building behind it. A garden and outside stair leading up to the third floor. The third floor, which was separated from the rest of the house and trimmed with a fence, seemingly open. Petar smiled; Melep was smiling down at him. He approached the wooden door and recognized the wood, moments later he knocked. He felt excitement grow in his gut. The door opened and a tall chubby woman, with deep brown eyes, in a house dress trotted out, looking at him.