Baldem

I've already flown over Baldem and the city walls.

From a bird's eye view, Baldem looked more like a military town than a large city, but with very dense buildings and completely fit into the area behind the walls, which were filled with guards.

From here I could see the building of the local church in the center of the town. Most likely, the buildings of the police and the local council are located next to it.

I decided to land as far away from the central area as possible, while staying away from the city walls.

My destination was a seemingly very poor neighborhood in the south. There were rickety wooden huts, some of them looked abandoned.

I flew into one of these houses, taking on a human form.

This time I became an old man of about 60 years old in a linen shirt, brown coat and black pants, while all these clothes were just a part of my skin. My face was sagging and wrinkled, there were age spots and a blurry eyes. My sparse hair was gray, and my back was hunched. I was holding a bone-colored cane in my hands.

At the same time, three tumors began to grow on both arms and on the back, which gradually increased. Two pairs of arms and legs stretched out of them, behind which the bodies of future clones began to emerge.

A few minutes later, three clones appeared.

The first was a lady in her 20s, wearing a gray dress that looked like she wasn't wearing a corset. It concealed a woman's cleavage and had long, narrow sleeves that widened at the shoulders. She wore a bonnet on her head. Her face was elegant, her blue eyes seeming detached, her skin smooth, her posture proud and straight.

The second was a healthy man of about 27 years old, with a thick beard and a muscular body. He was wearing a shirt and a tweed black coat, a top hat was placed on his head, and his trousers were also black. He gave the impression of a middle-class gentleman who tried to appear rich and influential. In his black eyes, there was anxiety, worry and uncertainty about himself and his future.

The third was a little boy about 10 years old with gaunt cheeks and big brown eyes that looked like they were crying out for help. He was dressed in a light-colored linen shirt and old black pants with scuffs, and had shoes on his feet that had lost their color.

Each of them began to leave the old house with an interval of half an hour, until only Yakov himself remained in the house.

During this time, he had already managed to feel that his decoy had been destroyed, as well as other clones and an underground tumor.

He could also feel that the body he left behind was also practically destroyed in the Flir, but many people, and even more so small animals, retained a piece of him, becoming carriers of parasite.

Now he needed to assimilate the dark energy in his soul, and at this time it would be better to avoid the attention of official mages and the Confector Order, so he decided to transfer everything related to interaction with the city to his clones.

He himself gave up his human form and turned into slime, passing through the rotten wooden floor, making his way through the loose earth and finally reaching the sewer pipes.

***

A young girl in a gray dress was strolling through the local cramped market. Merchants called her to buy their products, calling her a beauty and a cutie, but she refused, purposely heading into back streets and dead ends. Sometimes she saw bars and taverns.

Eventually, she found herself in a narrow alley, and a man had already approached her from behind.

"Hey, honey, what are you doing in a place like this all alone?" He asked with an obvious grin, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "I'll help you, but for a small fee."

The girl did not resist, letting the man get even closer. When he grabbed her chin and turned her head in his direction, she began to act.

He touched hid lips to hers in a kiss, but he could not tear himself away from her. Their mouths seemed to connect, her tongue seemed to expand and lengthen, penetrating the man's throat, causing suffocation.

He tried to scream and fight off his companion, but his scream was drowned out by a deadly kiss, and his hands glued to her dress.

After a few seconds, his body went limp, and the woman released him from the kiss, which caused him to fall to the ground.

She began to search his corpse, finding a sharpener, which she decided to leave in place, and a bag of money. From there, she took out some banknotes and headed back to the market to wander there.

At some point, she wandered into a store called Tobacco House. There were both women and men inside, and two types of tobacco were placed on the counters – smoking and non-smoking.

At the same time, cigars and smoking pipes were sold. Some were more expensive, some were cheaper.

The girl went up to the shop window, behind which there was a white tobacco pipe with its own name – "The Face of a Trizor". It was made of a material known as meershaum. On the bowl of the pipe was decorated with the face of a bearded man who looked like a sage or thinker of ancient times.

"Do you like it? Or are you a fan of Trizor?" A gentleman of about 20 years old in a fur coat and with a shaved face asked her, his nose was sharp, his smile was languid, and his eyes were green.

"I just liked the carving," the girl replied in a melodious voice.

"That's how it is," the young man nodded with a smile. "I can buy you this pipe if you really like it that much."

"It's not worth it," she refused. "I only need some tobacco, I can pay for myself, but your offer flatters me. My name is Catherine, nice to meet you."

"My name is Timothy, I'm very pleased to meet you," he said.

***

A slightly restless man in a gentleman's suit and a top hat on his head was walking around the market street, looking for something specific.

At some point, he wanders into a narrow alley with a corpse lying there, but instead of being scared, he was delighted and with a happy expression on his face came closer and took a bag of money from the dead man's pocket.

Along with this new acquisition, he headed to the nearest bar that was on the market.

It was already evening, the warm light of the sun was about to be replaced by the night glow. There were a lot of people in the bar at that time, talking to each other or drinking alone.

The gentleman decided to sit down at the bar table.

"Can I order a cognac?" he asked the bartender.

"Yeah, cheap or expensive?" a dark-skinned, very stocky man asked.

"Cheap," the gentleman said a little softly, looking around, worried if anyone else had heard him.

"Well, here you go," the bartender looked at him strangely, taking out a bottle of cognac with an erased label from under the table.

Then he poured alcohol into a glass and gave it to me. I tried the contents. It tasted like regular alcohol or vodka.

"What? Don't you like it, hehe?" asked a man in his 30s who was sitting next to him. "Me too, but it's the only thing I can afford to drink here every day. Are you from out of town? You don't look like a local."

"Well, you could say that," the gentleman replied. "I came from the capital of the Barony, the Port-Amelia."

"Wow, it's a long way from here," the man remarked. "And why did you come?"

"No reason, I wanted to work in a sawmill, lumberjacks make good money in Flir, but I don't really like big cities like that, so I came here," I replied.

"I see, my friend," the interlocutor replied. "Do you want me to tell you a little about our city?"

The gentleman just nodded.

"Well, listen. Baldem is a border town, Alba is literally 30 kilometers north of us. Our town is small and accommodates only 10 thousand people, but absolutely every man here knows how to use weapons, as he has undergone military training."

"We have three main districts: the Market District, where we are now, St. John the Martyr Square, where the church, the police and the City Council are located, Independence Street, there is a recruiting center and several barracks. All other areas consist mainly of just residential buildings and military barracks. There is a small sawmill outside the city, in the forest, but something is wrong in the city since morning, no one is allowed in or out, so they may not let you into the forest. By the way, when did you arrive?"

"Recently, friend, recently," I replied, tasting the cognac again.

"Yeah, my name is Davis by the way," the man replied, holding out his hand to me.

"And my name is Konstantin, nice to meet you," I said, returning the handshake.

***

For a long time the boy walked around the central district, asking for alms from passers-by, but most people refused him, and those who were kind, gave not money, but food, such as a quarter of a loaf of bread, but the boy was happy about it.

At some point, the child reached a building in the central district of the city, which was fenced off, but the gate itself was open. There was a stand near the fence, it said: 'private orphanage 'Miracle'".

Inside, almost 20 children were playing on a small playground. They had a ball with them, which they were chasing around the field, probably playing something similar to football.

When they saw the thin boy on the threshold of the orphanage, they joyfully invited him to play with them, without even asking his name. He agreed.