Kopii rose slowly and uncertainly from the cold stones, his body aching, and a ringing filled his head, like a funeral bell, underscoring the full weight of the memories that came flooding back. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the vile roughness of dried blood and ingrained dirt, which seemed almost tangible to him. The alley around him was silent, and only the distant hum of the market reached this place, reminding him of the life bustling behind his back — but this silence pressed down on him.
He looked around, straining to piece the shards of his memories together into a single whole, as if from a broken mirror.
— They're in this together, — he whispered, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, trying to control the rage raging inside him.
But the anger quickly gave way to shame. He realized how stupid he'd been to fall for all of this.
«What path? What amulet? What nonsense!»
How could he have fallen into this trap? And the more he thought about it, the more he considered himself a fool.
...
«I need to keep moving,» — he thought after a while, realizing that blaming himself now was useless.
So he understood that staying here would be the same as signing his own death warrant.
He listened. The noise of the market sounded closer than he'd thought, which immediately sparked an involuntary thought: had he been transported to another place?
But he didn't dwell on it too much; he was still alive, so if he'd been moved to a different place, that was the least of what he needed to worry about right now.
He moved in its direction. Every rustle made him walk faster.
And then he burst out onto the market square. The bright light, the deafening noise of voices, the intoxicating smell of roasting meat — all of it crashed over him after the gloom of the alley, like a blow to the head with the blunt end of an axe. Disorientation overwhelmed Kopii. He looked around, trying to figure out where to go next.
And with the realization that he was in an unfamiliar city, with no money, no friends, completely alone, his already bad mood sank even lower. So all he did was keep looking around.
No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his thoughts kept returning to that woman and the man.
Especially to his shameful defeat — he hadn't even been able to escape. He'd been so weak that even running away had been impossible.
Kopii stopped, struck by this terrible realization. He knew he was weak, and that was why he'd spent day after day training. But all his efforts had been in vain.
And, of course, he'd already guessed the reason why he was so weak compared to the man.
«Falna, the divine grace.»
That was one of the main reasons people came to the city of heroes.
Kopii pushed these thoughts aside; he knew it wasn't the right time to think about such things — he needed to keep moving forward.
Of course, he hoped that luck would be on his side and that today he would find a god who would grant him their blessing.
He made his way through the crowd, searching for any signs that might indicate the presence of gods. Merchants called out to customers all at once, children darted between the stalls with shrieks, street musicians played simple melodies that blended into the general hum of life.
Unable to bear it any longer, his body needing rest, he turned into the first alley he came across without a second thought.
Without hesitating, he leaned against the wall and sat down, just as a cold wind began to blow.
«Just my luck,» — he thought bitterly, with sadness at the realization that all of this could have been avoided.
«Not even a day has passed before I was robbed and beaten.» — And with the knowledge that if it weren't for his own stupidity, everything could have turned out differently.
His mind was already on the verge of slipping into sleep when an elderly woman approached him, unexpectedly emerging from the shadows. Her black hair was gathered into a neat bun on top of her head, and her thin face, as if from another era, glowed with kindness and care.
Before he could even understand what was happening, the woman spoke.
— Hello, boy, — she said softly, her voice sounding like a message from a distant, comforting place.
...
He remained silent, watching the stranger warily, ready to bolt back to the market at any second.
— I see you need help. Will you come with me? — she asked in a gentle tone, extending her hand toward him.
Kopii hesitated for a moment, looking at the outstretched hand. But without lingering too long, he reached out with his own. Seeing this, she smiled and continued speaking in a calm and measured voice.
— My name is Maria Martel...
— Nice to meet you... Ah! My name is Kopii.
Maria smiled, and her eyes grew warmer, as if instilling a sense of hope.
— Kopii, then. A lovely name. Come along, everything will be alright.
But he didn't believe her, because everyone in the village had told him it was a terrible name. Before he could even catch his breath, she pulled him deeper into the alley; something about it made him slightly uneasy, but he tried not to show it.
They walked for what felt like an eternity. The farther they went, the darker the streets became; the houses looked abandoned and dreary, which only deepened the discomfort he felt. Unable to stand it any longer, he asked.
— Where are we going?
He finally found the strength to speak.
Maria paused for a moment, then answered with a kind but firm calmness.
— To my orphanage.
— And where is it located?
— On Dedalus Street.
— Oh, I see.
But seeing the look on his face, she immediately realized he didn't understand at all, so she hurried to reassure him.
— Don't worry, Kopii, it's a good place... You just need a little time to get used to it.
— I understand.
Her words only made him feel worse.
Maria led Kopii through narrow, filthy streets where the walls of the houses, like closing jaws, pressed in with their tightness, standing like merciless guards. The air was thick with the smells of rot and dampness, seeping into his lungs and forming a sickening harmony with his inner state. Kopii felt his body trembling treacherously under the weight of all these sensations, but he clenched his teeth, unwilling to appear weak or out of place in this place. His wounds ached; every step sent a wave of pain through him, as if it were unnatural, but he kept walking because he simply had no other choice.
— You look like you've been run over by a cart, — Maria said, her voice gentle, though a flicker of concern showed in her eyes, revealing her care. — What happened, Kopii? You can tell me.
Kopii stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't know if he could trust this woman.
— It's nothing, — he muttered finally, doing his best to hide the hopelessness that had engulfed him. — Just… a bad day… And the wounds aren't that special.
...
Maria didn't press him. She simply nodded and kept leading him on, her steps confident, as if she knew every crack in these pavements. They came out onto a wide square surrounded by dilapidated buildings.
— Here we are, — Maria said, pointing to a tall building with peeling plaster that looked very different from anything he'd seen so far. — This is my orphanage. Here you can rest and find friends.
— Are there many children here?
— Yes, quite a few, — she replied with optimism. — You won't feel so alone here.
A week passed. At first, the other children kept their distance, watching him with a mix of wariness and curiosity, but gradually he made some friends — if you could really call them that. It turned out he was the oldest there now; he was thirteen. The oldest after him was nine‑year‑old Rai. Rai was friendly and quickly became Kopii's first friend. He also dreamed of becoming an adventurer, just like the heroes in his favorite books. Then Kopii met a girl named Fina. She was very open and said whatever came to her mind without thinking about the consequences or any formalities. Because of that, Kopii tried to talk to her as little as possible.
There, Kopii also met Sir, and they quickly became friends, but even so, every time she was near him, he felt somehow uncomfortable. She was sixteen and told him she worked as a waitress at "The Mistress of Fertility" — a pub where people gathered to drink, as he understood it. He never learned much more about her.