— So the dwarves make such daggers and sell them only occasionally?
— Indeed, esteemed sir, indeed so. I bought this one in Toshale, — the merchant, who was quite tipsy, eagerly shared stories from his life with Sergey.
The scout, who had been frankly bored in recent days, spent a lot of time in the city with the merchants. It was there that he noticed an unusual dagger with a distinctive pattern. It turned out to be dwarven.
— Why do they sell such weapons so rarely?
— They're not really bought, esteemed sir, they're considered feminine, decorated, — the man explained. — I bought it for my daughter, but I liked how it felt in my hand so much that I kept it for myself and bought her a scarf instead.
A brief conversation, supported by wine and sealed with a few drops of the merchant's blood, confirmed the trader's words. Both dwarves and humans considered pattern-welded weapons to be feminine due to their unusual designs, which made them look "decorated." They were forged by dwarves, and no one else besides them in the mountains handled such items.
Proud short folk preferred weapons with a simpler appearance. However, they sometimes indulged their ladies with such "toys," and it was considered good form to forge a similar dagger or knife for a bride on her wedding day.
Having bought the pattern-welded dagger from his drinking companion to show off in the village, Sergey was almost out of the tavern when his attention was drawn to a conversation in a distant corner.
— Not a drop of blood in the body, a pale corpse. And they say there are dozens of these each night!
— And the guards?
— Oh, nothing! They deny everything!
— By the Light, what is happening!
— It's good that everything is calm here!
The trio of men talking, judging by their clothes, were clearly merchants' assistants or agents. Understanding the topic of their conversation wasn't difficult, so it was necessary to stay and find out where else the fleeing traitors had been. All the vampire leaders had regretted more than once that they had not shown proper enthusiasm in capturing the runaways at the time. Now they could only pray that the local investigation authorities would not come upon their modest village on the edge of the world.
Just as he was about to approach the gossiping men, the vampire abruptly changed his course upon hearing the name Kas. The events in the capital were of no interest and were well known from the blood of the direct perpetrator of those events. With a clear conscience, Sergey stepped out into the air and took a deep breath of the city's foul odor.
Rot, excrement, dirt, mold. An indescribable aroma of human habitation, but even one can get used to it and consider such air "clean," especially in contrast to the smells that had lingered in the tavern.
He needed to check on his subordinates, who were still trying to get close to the bishop every night, and then he could go home. It was boring there, but at least everyone was familiar and close.
The bishop remained unreachable for the vampires. Carefully planned operations to reach his person were thwarted each time for various reasons. Scouts had obtained the blood of all the priests in his entourage, except for the chief treasurer, who was guarded even more securely than the bishop himself. It seemed that with a bit more persistence, the goal would be achieved, but no one knew how much more work was needed before quantity would turn into quality.
After listening to reports and approving the plans for the upcoming night, Sergey wished his subordinates good luck and left the hospitable city, easily leaping over the wall, naturally in a way that avoided detection. In the dead of night, he was already home and demonstrating his acquisition to Oleg, who then compared the qualities of the pattern-welded and mithril weapons. The mithril dagger had been obtained during the robbery of one of the traders dealing in stolen goods in Kas.
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