The Way of the Clan 9 by Dem Mikhaylov

Author:Dem Mikhaylov [Mikhaylov, Dem]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-04T05:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR.

The last jerk.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Marine bidding and wrangling.

“Eaten it?! Eaten it?! No, tell me directly — gobbled up a pier! No! Do not say anything! I do not want to hear! Wow! What scoundrels! They devoured the legendary fish! And they sit happy, with sparkling eyes, with red cheeks! Do you have brains?!”

“Hm?” I said quietly.

I was not heard. Bom was not shouting at me. He was talking to the fishermen who were sitting on the deck. I was lucky — I was out of the zone of his verbal attacks, which were capable of humiliating anyone.

I was the Great Navigator, and I was on my post — I was keeping watch on the main bridge of the Black Queen, making sure that the sails moved to our distant horizon. Behind our stern, the contours of the islands that sheltered us slowly faded away.

Goodbye Ring. I thought rightly that these islands would no longer sink into the sea, and that the revived civilization of swarthy beautiful natives would continue to develop. Over the past few days, the players had restored the lion’s share of the island infrastructure. They had destroyed the most dangerous monsters, paved many roads, rebuilt many guard posts, and repaired three lighthouses. They had cut down the jungle and cleared out debris, and even plowed and sowed fields with corn and sweet potato. Bless you, island — we did not rest, ourselves, but you would rest.

And I was lucky — I had a good rest.

I was sitting here, red-cheeked and red eyed. Yes, red-cheeked and red-eyed. The effect would last until the end of today. The meat caught by Roska special fish was delicate. The chef fell to his knees when we offered up the fish. It turned out that this fish was caught not more than a dozen times around their island — for several centuries. There was a special recipe for its preparation — and he persuaded us to follow it. He took a lot of money for the expensive spices, special oil and giant clay pan. He prepared. We ate with pleasure — not forgetting to share with the chef. In the morning I blushed. And my skin was not just a reddish shade, but bright red. I was basically scalded. And my eyes … they could make any demon proud.

In addition to the color, I received plus sixty to strength for a week, plus thirty endurance for just as long, and plus two percent life for thirty days. The catch turned out to be noble … An excellent dish for muscular warriors going to battle. Kirea was happy. I was proud of my red cheeks. And now I was listening to Bom screaming, threatening to tear out the trunk of the mammoth — even though Kolyvan did not eat the fish.

“Well?” The Baroness purred, putting a cup of excellent coffee in front of me — flavored with rum.

“A cold wind,” Klest sighed, throwing a tight cloak of white wool over my shoulders. “As a gift to you, buddy.

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