* * *

  Three spirits, glowing and trembling from the power pumped into them, gave a series of grateful and subservient images and gone. They drifting deeper into the immaterial until the shaman changed his mind and took away the generous reward. They were, perhaps, the st of those to whom he was indebted for their almost selfless help in curing the sick. Stepan had to spend only on the direct pumping of forces to perform the cure, while these three had come to the call and supported their existence “for their own”, and spent almost as much as they received, trusting in the authority of the sphere-marked shaman and his promise to “be sure to pay ter”. It is possible to break such promises, and there is no special damage from such a thing, especially with small and not especially strong entities, but their fulfillment, and even with interest, just may raise the authority and connection with the spheres even more. On the one hand, a lot of people on Earth still work for giant companies with a notoriously brutal attitude toward lower-level employees, and there are a lot of scandals and denunciatory articles about it, and the Earthman even read some of them. On the other hand, everyone wants to get into a company where saries are higher and the social package is fatter, sometimes going as far as outright bribes to recruiters. In the case of the spirit world, it doesn't quite work that way, and spirits are unlikely to bribe a shaman to let them join his retinue.... though, although, with this non-game system, nothing can be said for sure.

  Shaking his head, a little dejected by the sagging reserve, which no longer seemed satisfactorily rge, Stepan began to collect the totems of the protective circle and bring the ritual circuits to a temporary opening. Even though he was just handing out debts, he was still in the habit of putting full protection, strengthening it time after time, if it was done in the same pce. The situation in which some evil and strong spirit would buy out someone else's debt and name-image of summoning from a weak healer in order to come instead of him and eat the shaman looks quite fantastic, but not at all impossible. Getting in a pne crash isn't easy either, but shit like that happens to people on Earth on a regur basis. In other spheres dwells all sorts of things, very different and often aggressive, every summons, every call is always associated with risk, which can only be reduced and leveled, but not rid of completely. Shamanism, of course, is not as risky as demonology, but completely safe for the gifted areas of magical development is still not, a priori. Earlier or ter, their risks appear in each of the schools, in any doctrine, method, and approach. That's why so valuable in fact his absorbed knowledge provides not just power, but the best options for its application, honed to perfection and absolute methods, contracts, small details and unwritten truths, which in normal conditions are passed from teacher to apprentice, under a thousand oaths and the apprentice is often still a close retive of the teacher.

  When he had finished collecting the totems that he was not going to leave here for the night, he started packing back to the vilge. He put on his top clothes and shoes, rubbing his body, which was still freezing, despite the spirit that had pnted in him, and left the clearing he had chosen almost satisfied, even a little happy. He was done with his debts - he had spent two and a half long weeks trying to give all the summoned ones what they deserved. A good memory, only strengthened by his magical gift, and the marks left on the spirits in advance so as not to confuse them, allowed him to do everything quickly and not to miss anyone. However, he wouldn't mind a meta-skill with logs of all actions, including any kind of calling, summoning, and the terms of deals. Apparently, it was time for him to either write it all down, as he was accumuting too much information as his own power and retinue grew or to take the aforementioned meta-skill. However, the default notebook in the system also helped him time and again, allowing him to quickly write down a thought or pce an informational image of a gre of some spirit he owed an extra portion of reserve.

  Almost three weeks spent, hardly any experience, just a waste of magical powers, and the sense of duty that had been driving him all this time, because Stepan always preferred to pay his debts, as if he were a Lannister at heart. The path trampled in the rain-soaked mud led him to the backyard of the lodging house he had been assigned for the time of his stay. The local peasant, who was Hrol, lived mostly by hunting and gathering rare herbs; he did not plow the fields, only the bare minimum. He was an extremely mediocre hunter and herbalist, he didn't go deep into the forests, and he relied more on fishing if the time was hungry, but he had enough for himself and his orphaned nephew, and he was completely devoid of any ambitions. Here, in this vilge, they did not starve at all, taking advantage of the presence of the river nearby and the fact that the river is controlled by the ruler and the city council of the free city of Dantmark, so the risk of attack by river robbers was not so high. And the risk, Kirik said, was easily offset by regur gifts to the sources of the risk, especially since they took little.

  "Hello, your magic." As soon as he entered, a short but stout and agile boy with dark-blond braids and mischievous devils in his eyes greeted the earthling. "I've heated the stove, chopped wood, brought water, and also brought your clothes from washing."

  When the headman Kirik said not to be shy about chasing the young brat, he knew what he was talking about, not just to make a point. Meld was just like his uncle, as zy as he was and always not against shirking any bor, especially if the community was feeding and the magik was in the vilge only until spring. No, there was no disrespect or Stepan's attempts to make him work because Meld, they said, “doesn't know how to do it”, but if you don't order a boy to do anything, he won't do anything, and to order him, you still have to find him. It was as if he had seen a fellow student in action. He didn't kick the boy himself, he just talked to Kirik and the next day the boy with a glum look performed the tasks on the list and didn't pretend that he needed to go there, it was important, he didn't know this, and he couldn't do that, because he wasn't ordered to.

  He didn't feel like a sve owner, feeling Meld's attitude perfectly well and seeing that the other local teenagers, even younger than his age, worked quite well. He didn't have to do anything really hard. The te Hrol had his own well, albeit a poor one so he didn't have to walk to the river. But Stepan had to send spirits to clean the water because it was a bit dirty when it came out. The boy, who realized there was no way to get excused, it was useless to press pity, and his own Lyady's men would punish him, stoically accepted the new conditions and did not sck off anymore. It turned out that to have his own servant, who takes care of household issues, in fact very convenient, and what was supposed to take almost a month, was successfully solved for a period much shorter, even remaining power to deal with the household. Water filtration and purification, insution of the house, banishing all kinds of unnecessary animals, and setting up tracking totems - small things, but it was still nice that he didn't have to find reserves for them.

  The tantric hearth helped a lot, thanks to which even without meditation, just in a dream or during a walk from the clearing to the house, the reserve was slightly but noticeably replenished, as if by a poor, very careless, but meditation. This stream turned out to be really important and necessary, allow not to completely neglect himself and his defense. But still, he was able to spare his energy for only small things, while the main activity consisted mostly of a cycle - from morning to the clearing, until evening to pay debts there, then dinner, sleep, and again in a circle. He even made it clear that he was to have dinner only, but a very heavy one, so that he had enough for the early morning, and that he was to have lunch only once every three or four days so that he did not have to go back and forth every afternoon.

  Food, by the way, was carried by one of Kirik's daughters, named, surprise surprise, Kira, it seems that Meld was not trusted to carry all kinds of tasty things, though he was not hungry, Stepan asked about it separately in passing and found no lie in the answer. The magician was indeed well fed: all kinds of rich porridge, sometimes meat, but more often fish, regur chicken, and goose eggs, though small, not like on Earth, potatoes, vegetables, decoctions, and compotes. Beer or even wine, not bad wine, not moonshine, was also offered, but he refused. The poison tests had never found anything, but the guy didn't even think about stopping them, while he didn't want to think about voluntarily reducing his concentration and will, not with such a busy schedule.

  In response to a few cautious questions from Kirik, the young man just as cautiously tried to expin the problems of his work, unexpectedly meeting with full understanding. The headman with an interesting past understood the concept perfectly well, for him, it was as if a neighbor's house burned down and the whole vilge helped him to rebuild and gave him some clothes for the start. Yes, technically it is possible here not to pay back debts, the ws of the community are such that everyone helps the burned-out people, even if they can't stand the victim (but they can still put a dead rat between the logs of a new building), because they will be helped in the same way. Everything is for their own, so to speak, while to screw a stranger is the most common thing, and their own here are not vilgers in general, but only the inhabitants of a particur vilge, because of which there are real fights between separate neighboring settlements now and then, sometimes amusing and frivolous, and sometimes with arson, steel, funerals, and subsequent baronial trial. Therefore, the shaman's desire to repay his debts to those who lent him a loan met with only one solid respect, as well as a quite serious offer to help with herbs or materials. There was no herbalist or witch doctor in Lyady, but there were a few families who knew something, and they collected herbs for themselves and traded, sometimes even actively.

  The young man did not become uneasy, but simply listed a list of simple and not especially valuable herbs, which were easy to find, but he did not have time to collect them. And, miraculously, by the evening of the third day of that conversation, Kirik himself came to him with dinner, and with dinner, he brought a whole bag of collected reagents. Some of it, of course, had to be put aside. Not that, collected in the wrong way, or simply spoiled, but the rest he put into business. At the mere hint of payment, the headman only chuckled and said that he would hear such a thing again and “your magic would offend me a lot, we are not poor as it is”. Shrugging Stepan conceded, especially since the expenses there were probably really cosmetic, expressed by the time to dug through the storage space.

  Kirik, who made Stepan more and more nervous every day. No, but it's not serious, that for many years a mercenary, who had traveled the world for many years, suddenly became honest, conscientious, and good-natured. This can only occur in the books of those authors who have not seen mercenaries in real life! And in the real world, they were not even taken prisoner. Because there were very distinguished personnel. And they were afraid to be captured more than fire because they knew how they would be paid for their entertainment if they even bothered to take them prisoner. That's why the most part of the forces saved at the expense of the hearth of the spirit was used by the young man to get into the man's dreams and try to understand what kind of man he was and why he was behaving like that. It was supposed to be different, from really bad, like a quietly sent messenger, which will sell the visiting mage to someone-somewhere, to also not too good, like the fact that the man realized the limits of Stepan's real powers and now because of this very cautious. Screwing over a master and an apprentice who had developed his gift a little bit were different things, and it was easier to kiss the first one's ass, as long as he didn't take his anger out on you.

  The reality turned out to be different, unexpected because the generous and honest headman did not intend anything bad in his address, unless you count zy thoughts about the fact that he had already married off his eldest daughter, and the youngest had not even periods yet, to put under the magician. Yes, and the “disguise” of the earthling he did not reveal, although he realized that the young man was strong, but just considered that he borrowed the power for a while and in doing so almost killed himself. In his dreams, Stepan had several times seen the scene that had seared Kirik's soul, where the previously mentioned squad magician, who could hardly send a few fiery arrows, decided to exchange everything for nothing, for a couple of minutes he began to roast with a fmethrower and burn with napalm, to burn out and then hang himself from grief for the lost gift. But the headman was not a mercenary in the usual sense of the word by earthly or local pseudo-medieval standards.

  The thing is, these fifteen years that the tanned and wiry man, with considerable experience in cutting throats and ripping open guts, had spent away from home. He wasn't just working as a cssic hired gun. No, he was not a former agent of the secret guards either, though you never know, Stepan was not that good with the spirits of dreams, but he was hired almost exclusively as a ship's guard or as one who combined the guard with the position of a rower, and exclusively on river voyages. The river trade is so specific that the usual truth, according to which a merchant differs from a pirate only by whether he had time to change the fg, as well as the number of guards at a randomly met colleague, somewhat malfunctioned. The river is not the sea, you can't completely hide from sight or guarantee to remove all the witnesses, so it's very difficult to combine the roles of a robber and an honest citizen, you have to choose something. River pirates are there, in assortment, it would be strange if the mighty Dantra didn't have this scourge, but they act differently. They are quick to attack, quick to kill, quick to leave with their loot, hiding in one of the countless backwaters, and their boats are small, just to bring a boarding party aboard a merchant.

  And so it came to pass that a retively honest individual, even by earthly standards, not only managed not to degenerate over the years of such service, unlike many of his colleagues but also failed to accumute a rather thick list of crimes, as you would normally expect. No, he'd robbed, especially in bad years, and killed a couple of times those who didn't deserve it or got in the way, but against the background of even his “colleagues,” he remained not a saint, but close. That's why he was able, after so many years, to save up only for a house and dowry for his daughters, having become the headman of a very distant, though not poor, vilge, and not for a house in the city and a shop in order to break into the middle css. Well, or the spirits again confused everything, while dreaming Kirik, and in fact, he is a cruel sadistic maniac, who just considers himself a completely innocent sheep, and Stepan is still too crooked a dreamer.

  Meanwhile, while he was thinking about important, not very important, and completely unnecessary things, Meld had already managed to show his work and get permission to go wherever he wanted. He has his passions and problems, thoughts and worries, real teenage dramas that Stepan doesn't care about yet. Maybe he would have gotten to know the servant boy he got a little better, but because of the same debt distribution, he felt like a bit of a cooked crab most of the time. But this time Meld himself, who until now always disappeared at the first opportunity and was openly afraid of the terrible shaman (which did not prevent him from shirking by any means, and one did not depend on the other), did not disappear, instead looking at the older boy as if he wanted to say something. Or maybe he had a stomach bug, who knew?

  "What up?" He said, speaking in his usual quiet, yet clearly distinguishable voice, as if it were creeping into his ears on its own, and then, seeing that the boy shrank and ran his eyes. "Ask, and even if I don't answer, I won't be angry."

  "Can I become a magician?" He blurted it out as one would say a cherished dream or a confession of stealing a rge sum of money. "To be like you?"

  And, well, it's clear, for any vilger to be gifted is already a big plus, even if the gift is meager - at least amulets can be used, and not fabulously high-quality ones, which will also suit the ungifted, but any, including some of them, which can't be activated without a drop of the gift at all. And just longevity with good health in life usually does not interfere. The question, of course, is immodest, it is more straightforward only to ask for a pupil with literal words and, perhaps, Stepan even thought about it, but, as, the reality is that the gifted are rare and among the peasant even rarer (but mathematically more often due to their number).

  "No, you can't." Despite his attempt to show sympathy, he couldn't because he was too used to talking over the st few months with a calm face, without emotions, as if he'd been stunned. "You have no gift, Meld, and you can't become a full-fledged shaman without it. Even if you started studying, you'd be an ordinary shaman with a few tricks and rituals that don't require a gift."

  In theory, it is possible, for example, to bind spirits to the boy, to train him to communicate with them and to understand them rudimentarily, so that even without a gift he could call his retinue and command it. Yes, it will be impossible to pay with pure power and reserve, but there will still be blood and life force, especially if carefully and little by little, as well as cssical offerings and rituals. The ck of magical perception can be repced by the famous mushrooms, the spirit can be developed by training, from mistakes can be covered by the help of a full-fledged gifted at the initial stages. Thus, the output will be the owner of a dull but covered with spiritual marks aura, which may well be able to repce the average junior shaman, even pass his retinue to descendants or independently replenish it. The tter with great difficulty, literally asks one of the controlled spirits to help find and contract another spirit, acting as a mediator of will. There are also such wielders, everywhere, but full-fledged magicians are considered very rare, almost never, however, not without very different exceptions, sometimes very even outstanding.

  Yes, exceptions are possible, if only by sacrificing your whole family and specially conceived children to awaken the source of the gift, or having a very powerful spirit on a blood contract because your great-great-great-great grandfather was much cooler and bound the spirit, but the children did not get the talent. It happens, yes, but the chances of this boy achieving such power are much less than the chances of seducing the baron's daughter to successfully become a lover with her, and then get married. And he realized it too, despite the small age he had already learned not to believe in fairy tales. And in general, he did not want to be a magician, but to have everything at will and at once, instead of this hard life of a simple plowman - a naughty boy and a tomboy, just as Kirik had said. In some ways he reminded Stepan himself, only he, wanting the best for himself, always tried to support that desire, instead of just wanting everything for free. He was a normal individual, especially by local standards, but he didn't show any sympathy for him either. Despite a certain sentimentality and his regur altruism towards those who had really bad luck, Stepan remained a hardened loner in ordinary everyday life, rarely looking for company and having great difficulty making new friends.

  “Too bad, yeah, I would have been ugh!” Wiping his slightly snotty nose, the boy, as if nothing had happened and seemingly not upset, ran about his business, still pnning to spend the rest of the evening in the company of other children. “Good night!”

  "And you too," Stepan replied. "Goodbye."

  Today he was done with the debt distribution, feeling as if he'd closed the mortgage, no less. As of tomorrow morning, he could safely begin to resume recruiting and adjusting his retinue, as well as filling this house little by little with subdued spirits, just in case. Then, when he leaves, he'll just let them all go, or even send them away if they don't want to leave. The house is technically Meld's, and he'll live here ter, as he can provide for himself on an equal footing with the men. He'll leave a couple of keepers, put someone in the hearth, a fiery one to keep it warm and kick out the dangerous trash.

  But that's tomorrow.

  He is tired.

  * * *

  It was not possible to start work in the morning. First I had to go to the vilge to buy some wine, not for myself, but for an offering. He'd pnned to, but he'd been so busy that he'd forgotten! In any case, he did not ask for wine along with the usual food delivery, because it was not some kind of moonshine, it would be much more expensive and it would be embarrassing to take it for free. So he went to the inn and had a few words with its owner, who looked very much like Gozb, even after his illness he hadn't lost weight. He bought a better jug of wine, promised to think about how he could make the barns and warehouse free of mice and rats, and then the fuss started. Actually, it had begun before, but Stepan had missed it with the grace of a deaf and blind man until it reached him - it was a healer sent from the neighboring town, Risar, the healer whom the vilgers had so desperately called earlier.

  "You've been healing here, boy?" There wasn't much warmth in the tone of those words, but some underlying resentment, a slight irritation. "You don't have a healer's license either, of course?"

  The woman who said this, in a deceptively simple white and gold dress, had a beautiful appearance, a young face, a voluminous chest, and an aura that was only a little older than Stepan's own, or even younger by a year or two. It was easy to see and perceive the analog of shamanic contract marks, only here this mark was one, literally growing into the aura and merging with it, complementing it and filling it with itself. There was nothing sinister in this sight, from the mark and aura there was a pure and pleasant feeling, alive and living, life-giving and gracious. One could not help thinking that there was some ironic opposite to the spirit of the dark forest, which embodied also the forces of nature, but in its dark and merciless incarnation. Here the mark was left by an entity incomparably more pleasant and even more powerful - not a spirit, but a god, or rather, it seemed, a goddess. There was a purely feminine quality to this presence, intuitively understood, which was why Stepan was in no hurry to answer rudeness with rudeness, let alone apply the wisdom of the Great Connery.

  "You weren't there, Auntie." His address to her was also a mockery, which she appreciated, her lips tightening and her sky-blue eyes sparkling, which even looked a little cute. "I had to, haha, heal. As best I could and as I was studied."

  The young man uttered his “haha” in an even and expressionless tone, otherwise, he tried only to mirror the answer, not to anger intentionally, but not to let down insults either. The maiden standing before him was hardly above the rank of a mere novice, even if she was rejuvenated by prayer. The power in him is noticeably more, and the aura demonstrated through the Shroud is quite comparable in brightness, there is nothing to bend his back. He will not lose, but time after time, bending over and over again can go very far in this bending. And this way? They'll snarl at each other and start a normal conversation, which is often a normal practice for magicians of different directions.

  "Your mother didn't teach you manners, did she, boy?" The priestess took a few steps closer to him, but the Earthman didn't take a step back, either. "Or did your father teach you to flout the ws and regutions? And who taught you to defy the servants of the Life-giver?"

  "Auntie, there's one thing I can't understand." Stepan decided not to go to the conflict, intuitively sensing that he had made a mistake somewhere in the local fancies again and, therefore, it was time to slow down. "Why are you angry at me? I wanted to help people dying without a healer because the nearest town is days and days away. Can you, as one who saves lives, bme me for such a wish?"

  And again, as he'd gotten used to, the words he'd spoken hadn't led to what he'd originally wanted. The girl didn't calm down or lessen her aggression as he'd wanted, calming her down and deliberately switching to a more polite conversation. She pressed her lips even tighter on her pretty face, making it take on an altogether unpleasant expression, and her eyes flickered with more of those lightning bolts. She turned to the shaman, measuring her words one drop at a time, and now there was not irritation in those words, but a btant threat.

  "Do you dare bme me for turning my back on those dying of sickness?" He did not say anything of the sort, only pointed out that the priestess herself was far away and could not come physically, because she had no personal hang-glider, but as it often happens with women and Stepan, she heard in his words something different from the original message. "You know, fuck it with your patent and your application for a healer's job, boy. If you don't apologize in such a way that I forgive you for the insult, I'll caress you, I'll grant you the grace of Gaia so that you'll know the joy of life creation only in your memories of the past."

  Judging, by the way, all the vilgers tensed at once, and some of them recoiled from the shaman standing right in front of the priestess fring her nostrils angrily, the threat of impotence was clearly known to them as a real possibility. The priestesses are harsh here if the analog of taking bromine pills is used instead of pepper spray. The young man, somewhat discouraged by the pressure and puzzled by the very undesirable prospect of losing contact with Stepan Junior, finally realized what was originally wanted from him. She either didn't realize that he was working for free, or she didn't believe what Kirik had said, thinking that the healer-shaman, a young and hardly strong boy, had made a profit. The fact that everyone was alive, not dead, suggested that the disease was not as bad as the messengers who had reached Risar had described. She decided to ask the young man to share, perhaps to keep him from asking any more questions, but certainly to partially squeeze the money he had earned, and the young man started to be rude and generally showed btant impoliteness. This understanding was formed from the untold meanings of the words spit out in the threat, when the spirits managed to transte the untold into understandable images, making the earthling mentally roll his eyes in annoyance, realizing that now he would have to escate. There was no way he wanted to test the divine curses on himself.

  SpoilerT.N. There is an urban legend that in the Soviet Army, conscripts were given bromine tablets to reduce libido. I have no idea if this works.

  [colpse]"Auntie, I'm going to knock you." Peacefully, gently, and with a slightly embarrassed smile Stepan said, looking her straight in the face and not averting his gaze. "Not in an intimate way, but to death, right here, as soon as you start cursing me."

  "Boy! Do you realize that the Giver of Life will curse you to eternity for such a thing?" Surprised, but with some apprehension, as if she had not expected such an approach and approach, the priestess continues to threaten. "No female affection, no continuation of the lineage?"

  "I hope that while the spirits are pying with your bones, you, in the halls of the Life-giver, will be eternally consoled by the fact that I will have an eternal soft dick for the rest of my life." Smiling the same way, modestly and quite sincerely, parries the fallen man, sensing now someone else's weakness. "I didn't come here for money, but to save people, to protect their lives, literally. I lent a helping hand. And you, Auntie, are spitting in it."

  He thought for a moment, and the priestess opened her mouth to say something, to argue, to object, but the boy interrupted her again, going on the offensive himself, daring to take a risk, relying on his own strength, the system, and his level. Divine curses are unpleasant, no doubt, but far from irresistible, and in front of him is only a novice, not a fully-fledged priestess, with no relics with her, as well as the temple altar. If something happens, he has a chance to repel the blow. However, the life-nature-fertility is very specific, and to reflect such a narrowly focused and intensifying from the aspect synergy blow may not be possible even at a gifted more powerful than the current Stepan.

  "You know, come on, though." He took a step forward, moving closer, but now the dy was backing away, and her eyes showed not full-blown fear, but a discernible apprehension. "I don't like you, that's a fact, but I have not harmed your Goddess. I have not prayed to her covenants, but I have hardly broken them that much. I even wonder if she will curse me with your mouth if she will curse me for the fact that I have done your work, saved someone's life from destruction, even if I did not give it to her, eh? Come on, I'm waiting, or do you, venerable novice, only have the strength for threats?"

  Actually, divine prayers may well work against the doctrines of god, they do not look at each of their novices around the clock. But confidence and belief in oneself, in one's rightness and in the fact that one is doing a god-pleasing deed - is the cornerstone of all priestly and clerical magic, and her confidence was shaken, though not destroyed, after such a response. And the girl, who was really Stepan's yearling, not as experienced as she tried to convince herself and everyone around her, was frankly shaken from such a counterattack. She took a step back, then another, and then she took off altogether, barely keeping herself from going at a run. No “I won't leave it that way” was uttered in response, no prayers were activated either, and no divine punishment fell upon the young man. Realizing this and knowing that the treatment of male impotence and the same male infertility was canceled or at least postponed, Stepan himself imperceptibly exhaled, although outwardly it was hardly reflected. Judging by the way the vilge priestess herself had spent her eyes, here not only he had screwed up the social-fu, but she had behaved really wrongly and incorrectly.

  “Little brat, her tits have only grown since she was promoted, but she's got the attitude of a sacred priestess.” Kirik gritted his teeth, exhaling and wiping sweat with his palm, his hand trembling very noticeably. “You're harsh on her. And you were clever at figuring out her cunning, too. Such a pest, it's not often one of the Life Giver's servants is like that, honestly. Gaia said to be closer to the earth, they are the most understanding of all God's people, they often help for free, but this one, this one is a schmuck, and as angry as a hungry wolf in spring.”

  The rest of the vilge nodded and murmured in agreement, and watched the dy who had jumped back into the big boat, a full-fledged, though small, riverboat, with the coat of arms of the Free City of Dantmark on its fg, with such gnces that it was clear at once that this dy would not be missed, even if she had come for a short time. Later he was told that while Stepan was in his thoughts, this novice, sent directly from Risar, had time to question the locals, to wonder how they had managed without her, and to be visibly upset that she would be left without gifts appropriate to her work and status. Yes, the priestesses of Gaia are really considered to be the most adequate and normal to the common people, and they are still beautiful, big-breasted, and do not preach about the greatness of the Sun, due to which they win in this contest of sympathy of those sun-worshippers of the Northern Theocracy. But this one was especially wicked, and therefore the way Stepan, not afraid of punishment, put her in her pce, was liked by everyone.

  And yes, careful inquiries, so as not to show ignorance, confirmed what Kirik had heard - priestesses of the Life-Giving, Fertile, and Healing, after taking initiation, do indeed increase in volume of breasts, and further, with the growth of power and rank, also grows. It does not mean that every woman with tits is necessarily her priestess - the same Truda was not connected with the religion at all, and her breasts were of the level of no less than a high priestess, a master of magic - but each of her priestesses is almost always powerful with her tits. Do they store divine energy in them? No, the knowledge of the system told Stepan that it was a working manifestation of the aspect attribute and not the strangest. It was better to let the tits grow than teeth in the crotch and tentacles instead of a mustache, but still, the young man was chuckling, just because of the comical situation and the adrenaline.

  By the way, the ship sailed only the next day, and the crew had time to shop in Upper Lyady and even to gossip about where they were going. Still, the young novice did not come ashore again, and, according to the captain, she even began to behave a little less bitchy. Stepan, however, did not bother her, and almost immediately went to his house, and from there to the call clearing, where he began to put totems and create a defense against the curse of the Life-giver. It didn't work well - a few consultations with the spirits of the knowledgeable subtype confirmed the assumption that such an effect is almost several times more difficult to repel than any other curse of divine nature. Of course, a novice is not a high priestess right near the temple altar, and the distance is also very important, but the young shaman calmed down only when the ship sailed and disappeared down the stream of Dantra, indifferent to human squabbles. There was no curse, so Stepan exhaled, calmed down, girded himself, and sharpened half of a lush and still-warm pie with a jam from some unknown fruit.

  He obviously remembered to do a poison test.

  * * *

  During the mortgage payment period, three assignments came in, but Stepan didn't even take on any of them for obvious reasons. One, “small”, he refused because of the very structure of the task, which required putting as many curses as possible on the livestock in the vilge, promising in case of particurly outstanding successes free talent in a random skill. No, the young man could try to cast curses first, close the assignment, and then remove those curses before the vilgers noticed what was wrong and took up pitchforks. He could, but pying with curses is about the same as using a triggered grenade as a toy. A weapon not a toy, and at the same time a huge risk that something will go wrong, because it is much easier to create a simple and clear malicious curse than to make it easily removable and then remove it, especially if we are talking about shamanism with the use of evil spirits and strikes through the spiritual body.

  He dropped the second quest because its reward was ridiculous and the quest itself did not pay for the time spent on it. But the third, the third of the quests, which was the second in a row, he quite reasonably saved in the recently appeared quest log to fulfill if possible. Only a “small” one, but with a material reward and very simple conditions of fulfillment. That's why the first day after the departure of the insolent and evil priestess of the local Goddess of All Hippie - because make love, not war, or you won't make the first one anymore - the young man spent on the favorite clearing, forcing the dead grass around to fill with strength, life, and blossom. It was not difficult, because the task was given without effort due to bonuses to druidic directions and natural spheres, just do what to feed the spirits of the necessary specification, but the reward deserved attention.

  The bundle of small flowers tied with twine, something resembling very small bells, was a reagent for call, and a very powerful one at that, though obviously disposable. And this offering was just perfect if it was necessary to summon one of the spirits already watched during the mortgage marathon. The task of summoning this spirit was what the earthling began to prepare and implement the next move, as soon as he received the quickly spoiling and withering flowers. The summoning of the chosen contract went smoothly, rgely due to increased skills and proper preparation in a pce already infused with his will: the entity, though not dark, but quite aggressive, twitched several times, tried the defense for strength, threateningly pressed on the protective circuit, but, having achieved nothing, immediately went to dialog. In a way, it could be considered not so much an attack as a test of competence, a deliberate attempt not to work with weaklings or careless dumbasses.

  And if Stepan could still consider himself a weakling, comparing himself to full-fledged and very advanced masters, or, better still, to masters at once, not even Rodisv Gastoldovich Yanin, who was not to be mentioned at night, would reproach him for his carelessness in making appeals. Though the protective circle would not have held back this scum - Stepan believed in it fervently and fanatically - even if it had been held by the highest coven with the support of several godly spirits. But where is the One Who Fears Satan, and where is only a medium-strong spirit, a very specific one at that? With no clear sphere, belonging to the bestial realms, this greedy and slippery spirit specialized in gobbling up curses. Literally - you summon it, go to talk to the malefic, and when it curses you, the spirit takes the curse and devours it without harming the shaman. Just don't confuse going to the enemy with a visit to the temple, because blessings of different kinds, both magical and the lower branch of clerical, the spirit also eats and does not see any difference. In theory, even the influence of that novice could be intercepted by such a trick, before it had time to cling to the thin bodies. He didn't want to check it in practice, but let the contract be, he couldn't throw away the flowers that he didn't have time to use in any other way.

  The next days merged into one, and Stepan was actively setting up defenses, creating a stationary totem-altar, dedicated to all spheres at once, and near it smaller chunks for separate spheres or whole groups of spheres. He hid the clearing from views and searches, brought its reality closer to the spiritual world, and even thought of practicing the exit from the body and traveling in that pne, using the clearing and its affinity as an anchor, but has not yet decided. He didn't forget the house either, having finally insuted it, sanitized it, covered it with signal circuits and protective circles, and assigned several watchmen, including also a couple of very competent ones. A side effect was the constant, though barely perceptible, smell of resin and pine, which came from the spruce branches pced under the ceiling permeating the whole house. But neither the curse, invisibility, nor even battle charms in this house and its yard will be able to work in full force and fail. If it was not a matter of too strong superiority in skill and magic power.

  Meld suddenly came in handy in real earnest. Because during the work with the house, he needed a second pair of hands to walk around with a homemade smoker, to serve the workpieces, to hold two chunks pced on top of each other so that Stepan could stand on them to reach the roof, and also just to be near and not to let him forget that there were living people around and not only spirits. The boy was really inquisitive and, realizing that Stepan did not kick for questions, but tried to expin, he began to abuse it. Characteristically, he really listened, and attentively, and the young man himself discovered the fact that his skills as a good tutor, as he was still at school moonlighting, preparing junior high school students for exams, quite well id on the magical knowledge. The ability to expin complex things simply, as for morons, brought some benefit because, from his actions and expnations, the bar with experience grew a little noticeably.

  Meld, on the other hand, was seriously into the theory of shamanism, especially since Stepan saw no problem in telling the kind of things that were usually kept to himself. Nothing really complicated, powerful, or secret, just basic theory and cataloging of spirits by type, sphere, effects, and aspects, but the depth of systemic knowledge as well as the general erudition of the Earthman was impacting. He banally knew, not systematically, but personally, how a normal lecture should look like, how to present the material and break down the array of data into understandable blocks, which he shamelessly used, on the fly creating a training program for shamanism. Considering the fact that shamanism is usually quite different from cssical magic, and its adepts are quite rarely able to teach, the growing experience was an understandable reaction of the system. In the end, when the work with the temporary - and if he really wants, then permanent, if he really wants, then he will be able to settle down in Lyadi - dwelling came to an end, the same system impartially and conically congratuted him on the addition of new knowledge, even if not quite magical, to his status.

  Received: “elementary techniques for teaching magical sciences”; some improvement in memory and analytical abilities: increased likelihood of receiving talents of the mentor branch.

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  This knowledge base was not so much about new aspects of magic, but about how to teach this magic, how to identify a gift, determine predispositions, create individual programs, stimute learning, controlbly “lead” certain parts of the student's aura, showing him the correct execution of actions, and so on. Nothing outstanding, but even this initial knowledge was well worth it, so that Stepan was gdly taken as a personal tutor to some not too small gifted nobleman, and an assistant teacher at the magical academy, if there is one here, could also be arranged. The funniest thing about this skill is that it does not give you the knowledge of how to “teach” or to tell and expin complex things interestingly and simply. There is a reason for small pride in one's skills, though forgotten for uselessness, and there is some personal benefit from such a thing. Some ritual schemes, peculiarities of the spiritual body, and ghostly grip for controlling and directing another's aura, even a set of charms that could be cast, taking advantage of the possibility of close contact between mentor and student. Stepan had the right to choose victims of any gender, size, age, and social status, although it was not recommended to fuck the hedgehogs.

  "That's why, Meld, you suggested a clever thing, but it doesn't work." The Earthman finished his expnation while the boy stared mesmerized at the fireless water boiling in the bowl. "You can't summon the spirits of fme and water to get a vapor spirit in the end by mixing their powers. The spirit of vapor must also be invoked, separately, for the spirit world does not work in the same way as the creaturely world. What is obvious to us is wrong for the spirit - whether steam or mud, they are separate spirits, not the mixed effect of two different ones. It is as with a pinecone and a tree - the spirits of these things are different, though it would seem that the pinecone is but a part of the tree. A striking difference from the usual magic and the reason for it is the same....."

  At that moment Stepan, consciously avoiding complicated terms like concepts, appeals, direct control, and distiltion of influences and images, falls silent, making the pause suggestive. And the boy, smiling up to his ears, answers the question, feeling himself a genius of geniuses, although, in fact, it took a long time to bring him to the right idea, and then to pound in the truth. Not that the young man needed an assistant or an assistant, and he didn't pn to make Meld an expert, but why not practice mentoring if he had the skill?

  "Because magic is an order, and shamanism is a pact!" And he shines like a shiny nickel when the trainee nods approvingly, finishing the infusion, pouring it into two cups, more for himself, less for the d, his adult amount of the fortifying gathering can give him constipation, not just health. "The magician weaves the power into a pattern, breaking the world like a dry branch, and the shaman arranges for the branch to bend, honorable!"

  Very primitive opinion, as the refutations of both statements are enough, but in the base is very true, and the differences will go already with a deeper knowledge of magic or shamanism. At the base of his young mind very clearly described the dualism and antagonism of cssical high magic and wild magic, not necessarily shamanism. This could also include witchcraft, wild forms of druidism or constitution paths, and even partially priestly practices. Dialogue and agreement, whether you convince the “branch” to bend on its own, ask its faithful spirit to bend, or prove to it by the authority of prayer to the patron that it does not mind bending itself.

  "Well done." He sparingly praises his unexpected and not quite welcome student, wiping his tired eyes, starting to drink the brewed potion himself, thinking that the basics of potions he will inevitably reveal as a separate skill, not part of the hermit's knowledge and the root for the css of call practice. "Drink up and go to bed. You must stop sneezing by morning. And if once again you will run like a fool sweating in the cold wind and rain, I will not treat you until you start to die. And even then I'll let you feel all the charms of bzing breath because it seems you don't get lessons except through pain."

  The kid, who had gotten pneumonia, mumbled something apologetic and thankful and, finishing a very tasty and honey-sweetened decoction, disappeared from the eyes of his benefactor. And after all, his pneumonia was not serious, just temporarily suppressed by the young organism. But by the time Meld brought the shaman his dinner he was already suffering from shortness of breath and fever, though he was still holding on. It would be fine if it were for business, but no, he wanted to look at the rainbow formed during a very cold rain, and he was the first of all the children to see it. He succeeded, saw it, and even made his wish - it was believed that it would come true only at the very first one - but he got cold and chilled, and then he worked hard the rest of the day at very active work, as for a teenager. I had to treat it, or I would have had to do it anyway. Servants, again, traditionally, are treated by those who hire them, as Stepan managed to understand. Well, treated how? To a reasonable limit, but not with all the dedication, because most often it was much easier to kick out a servant who couldn't work and hire a new one, still a lot of people for a warm pce, especially if the pay was normal.

  Having drunk his decoction, only in it he added a pinch of crushed salt, soaked in the shaman's magic so densely that it was no longer even salty, thus increasing the effectiveness of the decoction, the young man y in bed and began to climb his status. With each new level and skill, the help became more and more complicated, often discovering new things in pces that had been studied a hundred times. And with each knowledge more and more time was required to go through the status completely with the help, of capturing every detail and line. So he had to spend an hour and a half at least, but a couple of times he thus learned very useful details about his gift, status, and prospects of its development.

  For example, “increasing the probability of avaible talents of a particur branch”. Yes, he doesn't have any knowledge of other css branches in his status yet, but he had all sorts of things to choose from. And “the basics of dark druidism (based on shamanism)” were only the first sprouts, opening the way to multicss. Yes, such druidism will still be derived from shamanism, based on the work with spirits and the spiritual world, but still a separate line of work. Maximum successful and perfectly combined into a united system combining the two directions of magic. And, if Stepan correctly understood the reference, this merger of the two schools could be further divided, drawing full and correct cssical druidism, perfectly, however, working in conjunction with the elementary css, and ... and ... deepen. To merge the two schools even deeper, achieving no less efficiency due to such a strong fusion. Yes, almost the same tricks used against shamans will work effectively against such druidism, but the opposite is also true! The tricks shamans use to prevent themselves from blocking access to spheres or expelling their servants will also work with the new branches of knowledge.

  And if you are able to resist attempts to crush shamanism with counterforce, the effect will be prohibitively strong. On the other hand, if you develop still separate schools of magical art, then even overpping one of the directions, putting against the shaman some professional exorcist and ghost hunter, it will be quite possible to kick that inquisitor with cssical elemental magic or curse the Elementalist covered with protective amulets against the spirits of the methods of no less cssical maleficism. A reason to think about his build and its further development, even if it was still early. No, to begin with, Stepan pnned to raise in emphasis exactly css skills and knowledge, collect interesting properties, and deepen the specialization of the shaman. Simply because the shaman is versatile to the extreme, able to adapt his gift to any task if there is time, motivation, and access to the spirits.

  The young man also clearly understood that in time, increasing knowledge or improving properties would require too significant growth of characteristics, which would not be possible to provide with equal speed, and he would inevitably have free talent points, which could be invested in exotic areas of shamanism, as well as in reted schools of magic. The same witchcraft, druidism, curses, healing - that's exactly what you can invest in ter, becoming wider where you do not have time to grow up. And he doesn't count gifts from the Autogoddess - because fuck her gifts - and rewards for completed tasks, among which there is very unusual knowledge, which is simply absent from the standard list of avaible skills. The same spiritual shroud turned out to be a truly magnificent thing, for which about three percent of the stupid jokes and tasks from the Milf of Eternity can be forgiven, perhaps.

  System assignment (minor) received: for at least seven hours, continuously use for self-satisfaction a pillow of enchanted cloth stuffed with feathers of birds incubated and raised on the magical source, dreaming of the perfect body of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney. An enchanted pillow will be provided at the moment of accepting the quest.

  Reward: a contraceptive amulet of master level execution; some increase in the effectiveness of tantric practices.

  Okay, not three percent, but one and a half, but it was still possible. Stepan was generally a very generous and forgiving person, but he suppressed the thought of beating the goddess with a fly swatter with difficulty, only because he clearly understood where he would get the fly swatter shoved.

  The experience began to drip again, little by little, but regurly and continuously, especially when expanding the arsenal of combat or simply elite summons for his level. The increased call practice had already traditionally expanded the lists of contacts. It issued more advanced instructions for calls, allowing not only to speed up and facilitate the summoning but also to significantly reduce the risks of this summoning. Here, for example, is the spirit of volcanic heat, from the magmatic sphere, which is born by the boundaries of the merger of the spheres of earth and fire: the essence is quite strong, dangerous, and powerful in battle, but it's best summoned somewhere near, well, volcanoes. And do not let you Mighty Milf try to use instead of a volcano, albeit extinct, or bzing magma, ordinary fires, or some bst furnace forge - attacks at the same moment, immediately. But if you know that this particur spirit likes to accept special herbs burned to ashes as a gift, or rather ashes from them, and if you have the opportunity to deliver these ashes to him with a spiritual limb, then a completely different attitude to the summoner will be.

  In this case, the spirit itself would not simply tell this information, and when asked about what exactly he wants as a gift, would send only images of fire from the bowels of the earth, and would try to fry to the readiness of the individual who called him wrongly. It was just one particur spirit, about which was known to be the most correct offering only to him alone, but such a tactic extended to some other spirits of simir nature and close spheres. Stepan had a one-time, but full-fledged combat call of a very powerful entity, which, moreover, really knows how to fight on the orders of shamans, and not just strike pure power and spiritual force. Such an attack can extinguish a dozen fighters dressed in good armor with some primitive amulets, as well as boil the brains of a weak magician, if he will not wait for the attack, will not have time to weave a defense, or reserve that defense will not pull out.

  Another contract, no less important for his many future accomplishments, was a guardian spirit, specializing in protecting the shaman's body in those moments when the shaman leaves his body. The entity required very specific calls and a rather amusing list of gifts. It was reluctant to appear on a free call - to call such a randomly, searching the astral spheres at random untargeted call almost unrealistic, like winning the lottery. A guaranteed call must have a very clear image request, to invest in it a very significant part of the reserve and spiritual power, but even this does not guarantee that will come just this spirit, and not someone simir in function, but not the same effective. This essence was distinguished from the rest of the masses by its complete willingness to enter into an extremely strong contract, actually putting his life on the line, committing to protect the ownerless body of the shaman from the evil of bad things coming from the spiritual world. The spirit would also react to an ordinary thug with a knife in his hands who broke into the shaman's house, but he was not so good at it, other guards had to be summoned, which would be easier, because the service was much more standard and widespread.

  Stepan's summoned something is categorically opposed to a permanent contract of any kind. It literally goes against its nature and, even if the entity can be caught and restrained, it will either fall into stasis, disintegrate into nothingness, or morph into a frankly evil and unsuitable for these needs something, personally evil to the entire family of the shaman-deceiver. But on one-time contracts it works with pleasure and is physically incapable of breaking its contract, always protecting the summoner and the deal maker to the st ghostly tentacle. Although it's all right, it doesn't have tentacles, because in his spiritual vision, Stepan saw a fluffy lump without eyes, but with a big mouth and five rows of constantly moving fangs.

  A very unpleasant creature even when fighting in reality, but it is best suited for sughter in the spiritual world, especially in defense, remaking a piece of the spiritual pne for himself, protecting this pocket and the client, and his own spiritual flesh. And in such a position such a Kolobok could, in the young man's opinion, devour even two or three formally equal to him attacking spirits, and with the support of a shaman, who would strengthen the line of defense from his side, strengthen the spirit and give him equal rights of power over the defense, and five or six, and not necessarily equal, it is possible and a little stronger. Or not even a little. Once again the value of system knowledge became clear - not the strongest spirit, which can in theory summon even a talented and very lucky apprentice, but at the same time contractable, reliable, not requiring some exorbitant fee, and able to even a much stronger creature to break on the battlefield. A spirit who does one of the most risky practices for shamans, a complete exit from the body with a transition to the spiritual world, is much safer and easier.

  For the gift of such a Kolobok's contacts, a cssical tribal shaman would put his beloved daughter to the benefactor, because it was almost a complete guarantee that it was possible to practice leaving the body with truly minimal risk! The daughter, by the way, was suggested not by the system with its knowledge, but by Kolobok himself, finishing the offerings transferred directly to the spiritual world, while Stepan was exchanging images with him. He had a lot of experience in communicating with mortal and not-so-mortal inhabitants of the world of matter, and he remembered and realized many things, including such piquant details. Spirit in general turned out to be one of the most accustomed to communicating with the owners of meat bodies and brains, a character of the spiritual world, which the earthling had only met. Not the level of dialog between boys on the bench, of course, a headache, but at the same time understanding goes both ways and there is no need to heat the brain in an attempt to digest a pile of unformed images in something at least a little understandable.

  The next serious call, also martial, was quite a cssic wind spirit, carrying in its essence the echoes of steppes, grassy sea, and bloody battles. This is the one who loves to py with the bones of those killed in battle, pying a marvelous melody over the exposed ribs and through the eye sockets of the skull whitened by the years. The same, just as Stepan had pretended in front of the venerable novice! Not a dark entity, not even a violent one, but a very combative one, one of many, in fact, far from the strongest or most badass even among those avaible for Stepan's summoning. The contract was very simple: a lot of power and herbs saturated with this power for three summons and each next summoning after the third one he would demand more gifts almost exponentially. Even if Stepan lived for three hundred years, becoming a godlike imba of all things, still this spirit will demand more and more for each call. However, the summoned wind itself was ideal for the current level and knowledge of the young man. Because, at the rank of the senior shaman, he will be able to summon such creatures not one by one, but in an assortment, and not for a one-time deal, but a permanent contract, not to mention the fact that the system will open the summons of much more powerful creatures, even if from the same direction of the “steppe wind”.

  In addition to the battle calls, the young man was busy remaking his neckce, bracelets, and rosary: moving spirits to new homes, and using more advanced materials, some of which he managed to collect, some of which he could buy, and some of which he could use only after raising his level. The Earthman felt himself to be a carver, jeweler, or just a psycho, rather than a mighty shaman, even if the power was only in the distant future. It was while he was carving a new shtik for a personalized protective amulet against purely magical damage he was caught by a new event. He was sitting in a trance in his clearing then, going over and over the parts of the neckce, talking to the spirits in each cell, sometimes letting them go, sometimes continuing the contracts, and sometimes just trying to understand the images the spirit was sending him. And so this peaceful and rather tedious - especially after the sense of novelty of the magical craft passes - activity was interrupted first by a message from the protective perimeter, whose spirits had spotted an intruder coming down the path from the vilge. Then the ears of the boy, who had returned from his contemptive stoning, heard the cries of Meld, who was circling the clearing, unable to see it because of the distracting influence of the spirits.

  "Honorable Pann, Honorable Pann!" The panting boy was gulping air with heavy breaths, but he was still able to understand him, especially when the shaman, still stripped to the waist, stepped outside the repulsive circle and came closer. "There, there! There's a ship coming! A river ship, big, bigger than the st one! And on it, those priestesses of the Fertile One, the one from before and the new one, both beautiful, just like that! And their chief, the new one, wants to talk to you. She said she wanted to talk to you, Mr. Pann! The one with the figure!"

  With a 'wo' gesture, Meld circled some sort of shape in the air, seemingly repeating after one of the adults. The not-so-listening Isekai's asshole began to clench. If that little bitch had brought help, he would have to either run away or really kill them both as fast as possible, hoping the contract prepared for this case would be able to cope with the cssic curse for priestesses of the most peace-loving goddess of this world. No, this most peace-loving religion does not require cutting off the heads of infidels, but its priestesses were no less feared. Talking to Kirik on the subject, the shaman only marveled at how unusual an entity Gaia was, as well as its priestesses, rituals, and, of course, punishments. Suffice it to say among farmers of all kinds, this dy is prayed to everywhere, even in the Sun-worshiping Theocracy, albeit secretly.

  "I see, thank you, go on." Gesturing to shut up the tomboy who wouldn't shut up and went to the third round in retelling the test news, and with each round drawing new details, Stepan crunched his knuckles and went to put on his amulets, preparing for a theological debate for adults. "I'll be right there."

  He didn't want to run away, and he was simply sick of such cases, sick to his stomach. Would he curse him with infertility, impotence, or involuntary ejacution at the sight of beautiful women? Let him. Stepan was in no hurry to have children, he had never met any women in the forests, even he carefully avoided the company of local maidens and widows living in Lyady (mostly out of caution, and also because of numerous moral traumas after Truda and Lashka, but the unattractive appearance of most of the vilgers also pyed a role), and he also firmly believed in the Autogoddess. Whoever, but this indifferent bitch, or rather her blessing, would definitely give a way to remove the curse that conflicts with the blessing!

  He came to the center of the vilge, closer to the inn and the riverboat, which was really quite rge and oar-driven, if you could judge by its position near the dock, dressed, calm as a boa constrictor, and ready to fight a deadly battle against the dominance of feminism. He had also summoned the curse-eater, who was now hiding in Stepan's astral shadow, literally merging with his aura and hiding from the gaze behind it. The earthling's own spirit, mostly hidden under the Shroud, trembled in anticipation, and the spiritual body was ready to break forward with a deadly cw, tormenting and destroying the auras and bodies of enemies of the fierce. He was greeted accordingly: the same insolent little brat, with her lips pressed into a jagged and nervous line, with a look of fierce dislike in her gaze, and her older colleague smiling calmly. And the second one, by the way, really looked older, thicker, and more dangerous, for her aura shone perceptibly brighter, and her spirit was soaked with the soft, honey-wheat and grassy presence of her deity.

  Not a novice, no, a full-fledged priestess, though not a senior one, thank the gods, even to Autogodess, otherwise one could have turned around and run, but it wouldn't have helped. Unlike her younger counterpart, this woman was completely calm, looking without any expressed dislike, and a good-natured smile froze on her face. She was short, shorter than Stepan by more than half a head, with curly wheaten curls down to her shoulders, a pretty face with a neat nose - a straight beauty. Purely outwardly Stepan liked the younger one better, but her face was now too distorted from the not positive feelings. He would say that in front of him the second Truda, but no, the priestess is much younger, he would not even give her thirty, at most twenty-seven, but still, there was some antipathy. The young man did not show any particur politeness, and silently approached the priestesses who came out to meet him, noting Kirik, who was a little embarrassed and very pleased with something. He even shrugged his shoulders, as if apologizing.

  "Hello, honored ones." Stepan knew how to speak politely, so that even a moron could understand the degree of sincerity, at the level of a seasoned pro, the effect of communication with the company. "You were expecting me. I'm here."

  The spirit pulsed, the aura hidden beneath the shroud literally knotted together, preparing to transfer all the power to the almost summoned but not yet incarnated entities, even the wind seemed to become cooler and angrier, but that could just be the weather. In response to his greeting, the eldest of the Fertile servants stepped back only slightly, touching the familiar novice on the shoulder, and nudging her forward. She took a step forward, almost dying under the reflex attack, and then.... bowed deeply, really low. If it weren't for his half-trance and full concentration, he would have choked on air right now.

  "I was wrong in my anger and pride, honorable Pann." She said, unbending from her bow, revealing an unwilling but perhaps intended view of the contents of her dress. "Anger clouded my mind, preventing me from seeing the obvious, pride made me put my opinion above the truth and the cause of the Giver of Life. I offer you, honorable one, my sincere apologies and hope for your indulgence."

  She looked as if she had been fed a rotten lemon and at the same time reduced her sary, and it was as if she was constantly reassuring herself that the boy would get over it, he would get tired of her humiliation, and it would all stop. Although, why as if? The spirits of understanding embedded in the body allowed the actual analog of superficial telepathy on a not-too-protected target. Yes, unprotected, Stepan realized with surprise that the level of deity presence in the subtle bodies and spiritual reflection of the novice had noticeably decreased as if she had been penalized for breaking her vows and now they had lost some of their grace. If she had been a full priestess, she might have fallen out of the priesthood and become a novice again, but so she had lost some of her power, below that, there was only renunciation of faith on the part of the faith itself, and she didn't seem to have sinned on anything like that.

  Stepan felt his eyebrow twitch and his brain melt as he tried to find a catch and concluded that the most amazing thing had happened. The boss of the offending subordinate did not escate and put the subordinate in her pce. A surprising thing. Not only for a world with feudalism and magic but surprising in general. Usually, if in such times who had the nerve to quarrel with the church, it was warmed with brushwood and a little bit set on fire, but here is such a thing, you will be surprised. That's why Stepan, who was quite nervous and prepared to fight to the death, did not make fun of the already vicious creature, deciding to extinguish the conflict from his side.

  "Everyone is imperfect." He shrugged his shoulders, not mentioning that in addition to pride and anger, the novice's eyes were clouded by greed. "I know myself, so I understand perfectly well. There is no malice or resentment in me, honorable."

  She was genuinely surprised by this, even her face smoothed out, becoming a little prettier, and her eyes involuntarily ran over Stepan's face, looking for his eyes and trying to figure out where they were looking. Her assumption was not justified, the gifted boy was looking clearly into his face and not even making any effort to hold his gaze. The bent girl was a little confused because she certainly did not expect to be forgiven so quickly and easily, and not to demand a payback, which she was going to pay off, maybe. The older of the couple was surprised, too, looking at Stepan with a share of pleasant surprise, not bored favor.

  "Unexpected." She said, stepping forward, bringing her subordinate back behind her. "Rarely do those who have known injustice have the fortitude not to multiply evil, to stop conflict. The little fool who decided to compin to me about the evil and dishonorable evil-doer who had put a curse on the vilge, and then almost robbed the vilge by lifting the curse under the guise of cure, did not hold her tongue. She had long since gotten used to having her words checked. By Gaia's grace, I had been given a prayer to distinguish truth from falsehood, but I didn't use it then. I used it ter, when I spoke to headman Kirik, to all those you pulled back from the edge, nearly killing yourself. I didn't like what was revealed, didn't like the stain on the Life Giver's will that careless maiden had left in her foolishness. I, too, came to apologize, on behalf of myself, as one who had allowed it, as one who had believed the snder of one who had been a novice for three more springs, trusting in Her forgiveness."

  The idea of forgiveness, as in Christianity, in the world where gods existed, not shying away from showing their will and miracles at a tariff or free of charge, would not be popur, so Stepan did not push something like that. And it was silly to say that you were so forgiving in front of the face of the one who could check your truthfulness, only instead of the spirit a specific prayer-request. The young man didn't want to say something like “Auntie, I'm afraid to go to a conflict with you, just leave me alone” directly, not wanting to spoil the first impression.

  "You, honorable priestess, have no fault with me, and there's no need to apologize." He shrugged, rexing a little, but not removing his hand from the neckce he was absentmindedly fingering. "I was just getting confirmation that the priestesses of the Life-Giver are truly good for people and that small mistakes... We are human beings to make mistakes, it's inherent in all of us, both human and not-so-human. The important thing is to recognize mistakes and try to correct them."

  Philosophical enough, simple enough, less abstruse reasoning, and he seemed to be able to shake it all up and not mix it all up, without directly saying “Leave me alone and let me get back to pumping and calls, I've already gained almost a third of a level”. Judging by the fact that they didn't look at him as Yanin did at the retake, he managed to achieve the desired effect with his speeches.

  "I originally came here with a very clear intention. There was an insult from a novice, a dirty and stupid conflict, an ugly story that needed to be closed, to turn the page, to give new sprouts to future crops." The priestess said thoughtfully, as if deciding on something, tilting her head slightly to the side and smiling enigmatically. "I thought to repay the volunteer healer with a tinkling coin because Her temple is not scarce with donations, as long as the earth gives birth and the garden is fruitful, but what I saw here, your reaction and words, honorable shaman. No, no, it would be sinful to repay with silver for such an attitude, for the willingness to help in saving a life. So accept from me, the priestess of the Giver of Life, Fertile and Giving Birth, Mature and Young, her blessing for many years and memory, for a bright home and happiness!"

  With the st words, the voice of the low priestess gained strength and power, becoming deeper, and in spiritual perception even double, as if someone else was speaking with her, someone infinitely powerful and understanding, standing higher, meaning more than all the other people gathered here. Stepan heard in this voice the ears rustling in the fields, the happiness of birth and long life, the sound of the sickle that cuts the crop, the spade that plows the garden, the plow that leads a straight line, gives the earth grains that will give the harvest to mortals, that will lie on the bed and give birth to new ones, who will take the plow and the sickle in their hands, closing the circle. And then a dense wave of golden wheat light came from the priestess, and it was harmless; he felt with every fiber of his being that it was not harmful to him, only good and nothing more. So he took two steps back and cried out in panic:

  “Stop, priestess!” It was only a moment ter he realized it was useless to shout and only waved his hand. “Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore.”

  The golden glow seemed to run into a wall of dishwashing sponge, which began to absorb the wheat gold, sucking up the power and goodness and taking it for itself. And then the spirit-beast, the embodiment of some coral polyp sighed contentedly and contentedly, absorbed not even resisting and not trying to attack in response to clerical prayer, and manifested for a brief moment in reality, visible even to a simple gnce. Resembling a miniature floating coral reef, it sucked in the st golden threads with sparks, and then, after giving out to the surrounding world the image of a contented and satisfied rumbling, which both priestesses recognized with absolute crity, fell into the spiritual world and was so.

  "Fuck..." Stepan said only that, and then he began to somehow twist and expin what it was and how a talented apprentice of an old shaman from the backwoods, as he appeared before the honorable public, was able to pull it all off. "A one-time summoning, I hadn't even lived a year under this sky when the contract was signed. And now I've wasted it. my grandfather would've come back from the dead."

  It was much easier to believe in a one-time and inherited summons than in the fact that someone with Stepan's aura, which now shows the shroud, this summons was able to quickly pull off and make a contract. The choice of words was right. Otherwise, the priestess would have noticed the lie in the words and reacted accordingly, and this reaction would have been noticed by the spirits of understanding. The older of the two dangerous dies didn't even seem to be angry, just sighed tiredly and rolled her eyes, and the guy was ready to swear that she whispered a couple of words, which god's people were not supposed to know.

  And he would hit you, dear Pann, with a shovel wherever he had to, I've heard. - The woman finished his phrase, putting her hand to her face and seemingly in no hurry to be mortally offended for what she had done, which was either not considered a sin or forgiven. “That man has brought you up very well, and trained you excellently, Headman Kirik did not lie here. I'll teach myself not to hurry and not to drive the horses to the watering hole. Oh, it's all right, young man, I hold no grudge and understand that you wanted to defend yourself if I had behaved the way young Lyrisa did. Sometimes you think you're smart, you think you're smart, and then you end up like this. Well, Pann, I know your name, but my mother called me Shera, and I came to this vilge by Gaia's will to correct the traces of the past illness and to check the words of the novice Lyrisa. The former was done without me, and the tter ended in disappointment. So let us not multiply sorrow and grief on this already cold fall day, but let us drink something hot.”

  No one argued with that, only the novice Lyrisa, who didn't want to stay around for a single extra second, quickly and technically fell away from their company. Judging by what Shera was hinting at, she would have to go without dignity and bust for quite a long time, all because she decided to lie to her elder. And if the vilgers didn't stand up for the earthling, and if Shera didn't turn out to be a really adequate dy, everything would be very bad. To them, first of all, and then to the isekai, who would have to train the skill of removing divine curses. Gaia took her trademark revenge for killing or harming her priestesses almost always, which was a well-known fact, and that's why the priestesses were attacked only by really bad-tempered people, despite the fact that they often walked without guards and alone.

  These, however, arrived on a ship bearing the Dantmark coat of arms and were seconded to the ship and the detectives and healers who sailed on it. As it turned out, besides the trouble in the Upper Lyades, there was some other mischief in a couple of vilges downstream and upstream, and in one pce a local nobleman's escort was robbed and killed. He was a small nobleman, but he was noble enough to get a lot of people on their heels and send out a detachment. The perpetrators had already been punished, but on the way they took several tax collectors, two priestesses of the Life-Giver, and even a couple of passengers.

  "Lyrisa will probably sail tomorrow with the others, and I'll stay for a couple of weeks, until the next ship under the coat of arms of the suburban service. Headman Kirik asked me to help with the blessing of the crops, under an obligation to return the goods to the temple as part of future harvests." Shera, who was zily picking at the leg of a suckling pig, sughtered especially for her visit, decred. Religion did not impose any vegetarianism on her. "I'll have to check the ones you cured, just so I don't get accused of ziness ter. I would also look at that unfortunate barrel, but if they burned it, then it is right, as it is right, everything according to the regutions. So you say it was poison and not the pgue, eh, headman?"

  Kirik smiled but strained. Stepan knew well from past conversations that for the pestilence, and even such a powerful one at that, it would be possible to give the vilge a guaranteed reduction in taxes for a couple of years, especially since there had been a lot of corpses before the shaman's arrival. But the poison barrel was already in the category of disasters here. The corpses with graves also pyed in favor of the decision to cut taxes, only here everything is not so clear. However, he did not lie and boast, although the man obviously wanted to. However, he was clever and attentive. He had already heard about the prayer lie detector and had seen it in action. Therefore he realized that he would only aggravate his situation by lying. He gnced in the direction of the shaman zily nibbling a rib, he only sighed and nodded.

  "Yes, honorable priestess, it seems to be poison, not a disease. Afterward, only a couple of people who weren't around at that cursed feast fell ill, and only those who were near the barrel." To his honor, he did not throw the answer to Stepan, though he could have moved away, saying, “I don't know anything, the magician did it all. "Honorable Pann also said it was poison. So I won't argue. But there are still graves, graves, lots of them, only by a miracle and the gift of the honorable one are we not all extinct. I would ask you to write this down kindly..... please."

  The priestess nodded and began to ask in a matter-of-fact, confident experienced manner what it was like there. A tall and stout man with a pot-bellied hairdo and hands that bore equal proportions of weapon calluses and ink stains joined in a little ter and wrote down some details for himself. Then they all went out for a while, and Shera, who was gesticuting vigorously, began to convince her interlocutor of something. When they returned back, the clerk Ilmort, with a look of irritation on his face, began to fill out the document, which was stamped and signed by himself and Shera, as a priestess on behalf of the temple of the Giver of Life, and even the captain of their ship. The tter did not even go down to the shore, for it is bad luck for the captain of a riverboat to go down to such pces. It is believed that he will thus bring sickness to the whole ship, but this even in the world of magic was perceived as superstition and many sailors went down quite well, having bought a drink. One of the sailors ran down with the order for the captain to check and put a cross on it with the captain's seal.

  When the second seal belonging to Ilmort appeared in the document, the satisfied Kirik looked at it with the look of a cat that had been given a tub of sour cream. This decree exempted from taxes for this year in full, and for the next year in a third, excluding only the “fish” and “iron” taxes. The first one was levied on the riverside settlements along the whole line of Dantra and Mtra. After all, it is believed that fishing makes it possible even in hungry years not to die, and the second one concerned only bcksmiths and smiths, because they always had money, as well as the same stonemasons. True, there was no stonemason in Lyady, but the bcksmith was a good one, which was why people from neighboring vilges went to him. The bcksmith didn't even have anyone from his family dead so he couldn't get cut off, which he would obviously be unhappy about but the happiness of the survival of the whole family should outweigh it. The vilge still felt the mourning for the dead.

  The conversation went on almost without Stepan's and Shera's participation, as they didn't get into tax rates and fees, but found an interlocutor in each other. This time Stepan looked more carefully at what he was eating and drinking, and the detector of poisons and other impurities was working in passive mode, but he still enjoyed the conversation. The priestess turned out to be a very erudite person by local standards, and she was always on the road, so she was familiar with most of the common people's misfortunes in practice. Her ability to recognize lies, anoint fields, and cure diseases made her a field agent of her goddess, and she really had retionships with fields, literally.

  According to her, one of the most popur services of the priestesses was to bless the harvest through the owner of the field and the farmer. Unlike the more complicated and expensive blessing, which the priestess herself imposes, this blessing is pced on the shoulders of the farmer and the head of the family, and only voluntarily and only if the tter himself prays fervently and believes seriously (for the peasants it is a common thing, they love the Fertile). Stepan, having heard the description of the ritual, blushed his ears a little under the ringing giggle of Shera: the boon is pced on the loins of the head of the house and the owner of the field, in his loins mixed with the vital and spiritual force, and then, when the plowman, in fact, jerked and poured the ground seed on the field, the effect enters the final phase, increasing the harvest and increasing very much. After this feat, there will be no hard-on for at least six months, and there will be no children for another year and a half because all fertility will go into the seed and from it into the ground, but after that, there will be a lot of births, and also a couple or three harvests in a row. Minimum.

  Taking into account the grain already used and now being harvested, Kirik will not be able to use such a cheaper blessing, so he asks the priestess to pray over the grain collected and put aside for sowing for the next year, as well as over the remnants of the grain not yet sown and already processed by the druid breeders. The combination of magic and blessing would literally fill the barns with grain, enough for the temple's share and for them. Fortunately, this blessing did not require any intimate actions with that grain, otherwise Stepan would not have been able to keep his face.

  The young shaman suddenly wondered if Gaia was friends with a woman who liked answering machines since she used such rituals, but only in passing. Guy's education allowed him to draw parallels with earthly beliefs, like the same Egyptian traditions in the retionship between pharaohs and the waters of the blessed Nile, the only difference was that here instead of pharaoh every plowman could apply God's blessing. He preferred to listen than to speak, and he answered with extreme caution, not hurrying to share intimate information, especially with someone who could sense untruth. Yes, her prayer could not work all the time, and his spiritual perception allowed him to sense the moment of activation of these prayers, but he didn't want to risk it, and he didn't want to lie and get confused in his lies.

  The evening came, by which time they had both had time to eat, to discuss the advantages of the priesthood over shamans and shamans over priests, and to argue to each other that cssical mages were stupid and narcissistic cattle-lovers, and their pce was at the trine. Shera shared a couple of life stories, some of which made Stepan blush again because with the priestesses of the Life Giver a good prayer had a certain arming tendency to turn into an even better orgy. If Shera was to be believed, Gaia was hardly the only goddess in this world that everyone, everyone at all, prayed to, no exceptions. In the fields, in the mountains, in the steppes, in elven forests, underground cities, dwarf caves, tropical jungles, and even on the sea bottom, where only newts and mermaids live, they also like to eat and fuck well, and that's why Fertile, being the most non-conflictual and the most unfit for combat and aggression among the gods, thrives and succeeds.

  "And so it will be forever and ever." A little pathos and deliberately drawing said the priestess, and then leaned towards Stepan, involuntarily opening a view of the body covered with a thin cloth for the already quite cold autumn. "Do you agree, my young interlocutor and colleague in the medicinal craft?"

  "I don't think I'd have the strength to argue with such confident arguments." It was all he could manage, trying to pull away but unable to do so. "Gaia's main appeal, I take it, is to wish mortals and not-so-mortals to make love rather than war?"

  In response, the remake of the cssics was greeted by only sincere ughter. She seemed to be actively seducing and enticing him, but he somehow did not risk taking the initiative, fearing either a setup or simply misinterpretation of the signals given by the interlocutor. And the wound left after Truda had not healed yet, though now he didn't even want to think about that couple because he wanted to press this beauty closer and kiss, kiss, kiss her only a little tanned skin, lips, breasts...

  “Oh, I see you really did grow up in a backwoods vilge, no other way.” Shera finally said, pulling back a little and gazing intently into the shaman's eyes. “You were brought up well, your reading is evident in your speech, you can't hide it, and you've developed a gift. My respect to your grandfather, he brought up a worthy heir, but his science could not instill the ability to understand women. I'm going to be very direct, okay? I think I'd like to see your home, to see how the young and handsome shaman has enchanted the walls of his dwelling. There's some kind of spirit in there that keeps the sounds from getting too loud, right? Like screams or moans?”

  The young man did not understand hints, but now it was not a hint, but literally quite direct words, that could not be understood in any other way. The smartest thing to do was to refuse, to part politely, and to go to calm himself with calls, but Stepan really wanted Shera, from her there was a real wave of some cozy and warming warmth, which made him dizzy and awakened his desire. And also it was not possible to be cautious and wait for trouble, as if in this strange evening the universe itself forbade them to wish evil to each other, as well as to expect evil in return, did not let them take this thought seriously. The test for different influences was carried out by him purely automatically, only for the sake of norms, and when it showed nothing, he decided to do it.

  And now they both leave together, smiling and continuing the conversation. The priestess with one gnce shuts up some talkative shipman, who also happened to be in the inn, clinging to the young man even tighter. The house was greeted with warming spirits and partially open defenses. The shaman did not want to show the priestess the most powerful of the guards, ordering them to temporarily hide but to keep watching. He didn't sense danger at all, he just couldn't believe Shera would try such a sneaky thing. So, instead of calls through the night, or searching for tricks even longer, he drew the woman's supple, hot, willing body to him, sealing her lips with a kiss.

  Interlewd 4: Pleasant Evening

  She pulls the dress down with ease. There's a sense of practice behind this action, but it's not surprising, given the ritual tradition. The hands take on a life of their own, but the priestess only provokes more, directing his eager palms to her tight hips, her rge breasts, along her hot body. She keeps up in response, vaguely as her hands find themselves under his shirt, pulling down his pants, and the shaman realizes himself naked almost before his partner, breaking the kiss, touching her shoulders, neck, and colrbones with his lips before ying the woman's back on the bed. Somewhere far away fshes the happy thought that it was not in vain that he regurly cleaned the house and the bed with spirit, wasting the reserve on everyday trifles and, more importantly, a drop of experience gained from everyday trifles, because now he can not worry about the mess or stale linens. And then all this nonsense leaves his upper head, leaving only the desire he sees reflected in Shera's eyes, only the heat of intertwined bodies and the thirst for new touches, tenderness and caress, roughness, and fiery passion.

  The priestess clearly knows a lot about pleasures of the flesh, but it seems to the young man that he pleasantly surprises her by the fact that at least he knows how to give pleasure to his partner too, realizing that she needs this pleasure too. She was lying on her back with her legs spread wide, and he was kissing her, caressing her neck and breasts, even her belly, making her breathe more and more often, making her bze with passion and longing for continuation. A moment, and there he was already in her, making a tangible effort to move in any kind of smooth and measured way, not to finish too quickly in a few hasty spurts. The heavy breathing, the approving moans, but without the na?veté of a porn actress, the hot and tight embrace of her arms, all merged into a single melody, mesmerizing and pleasing to the heart.

  She presses him tightly and demandingly against her, even when she's down, not giving up the lead. The firm grip of her legs around his pelvis set the tone for the movements, sweet lips with a slightly sweet taste on them stealing his breath time after time, disrupting it with kisses. At some point, these movements, the sensations of sliding in her thirsty pussy, methodical thrusts, and the rhythm of mutual touches lead to a logical outcome. A moment ter Stepan arched, while he, roaring with pleasure, poured all of himself into the tightness of his partner. A pleasant and refreshing fme burns in his lower abdomen, and his consciousness remarks that this is the effect of the tantric hearth, which has already replenished its reserve and is now simply pumping power through the thin membranes. The usefulness of such exercises did not negate the fact that the activity was surprisingly pleasant. And for Shera, too, because the hearth was warming and energizing her, too. The priestess might not have understood it, she was a little out of her specialty, but even if she did, or at least suspected it, she was in no hurry to object, busy, no less, with the convulsions of her orgasm.

  Orgasm. The violent and copious eruption, even unnaturally violent and copious, seemed to bring the young man to his senses for a moment, making him remember the dangers of unprotected retionships. And if he could not be afraid of any STD when communicating with an active and unblemished priestess of Gaia, he was not so sure about sudden paternity. The fshed thought made him slow down the still-ongoing movements, which allowed even a cock that had not fallen to transfer the first act into the second without pause, but the hot palm of the busty beauty was already on his face, and he looked at her breasts involuntarily, mesmerized by their swaying. Her words calmed him even more, bringing him back to his old mood and forcing him to seal her lips with a kiss, to seize control and press the priestess into the bed as hard as he could.

  "Calm down, Pann, I'm a priestess of Her." She almost whispered, biting his ear, making him jerk at the sudden outbreak of unusual sensations. "It is a sin before Her countenance to abort a child, but every priestess has the skill to prevent motherhood if her heart is not ready for it. Come to me, pour into me, pour into me harder!

  An order-request of the kind that there is no point in resisting, a new kiss, an attempt to bite her ear in return, but she only slightly moved her head, exposing her tender shoulder to the kisses, and slipped out from under him as if she were on top of him with unexpected skill. By the fming face, heavy breathing, and open mouth, which now and then shows a tongue, licking plump lips, the young man realizes that his partner also gets high. And also the effect of the hearth has affected her like a dose of passion potions mixed with alcohol because the hungry desire for intimacy in the depths of the pools of her eyes has become even more than at the beginning.

  Shera's breasts were truly lovely, and, unlike that time with Truda, he was in control and could enjoy what was happening, watching the spectacle and shamelessly touching the spheres bouncing from her leaps, catching the pink nipples with his lips, caressing her buttocks and groping her waist. Every movement of the priestess was alive, passionate, and lustful, the strength of a woman who was used to knowing her worth, who could take and desire without shame or justification. Leaning back a little, she rested her hands on her back, pushing her breasts forward, beginning to move even more demanding and impetuous. It really did feel like a gallop now, but Stepan barely had time to move to meet her. Shera's smile, predatory and cunning, passionate and tender testified that she was doing it on purpose, deliberately making him te, not keeping up with her, giving her the lead.

  The second orgasm marked her success in this confrontation, because mad with passion and weakened by the need to withstand the rhythm the young man just could not stand it and leaned back, giving himself to the will of his partner. She was not modest in a minute and a half bringing him to the peak, literally snatching, demanding, and taking another ecstasy, another eruption, abundant and penetrating the whole body with spokes of pleasure. The moaning Earthman felt with all his being how abundant jets of semen came out of him after each pulse, passing as if through the whole body and aura, ending in his loins. With a growl worthy of the very first guardian beast he had met, which surprised even Stepan himself, he exerted his strength and turned over the priestess, who squealed and ughed, ying her face down on the bed, forcing her to lift her ass higher and sit behind her.

  To arrange a cospy of cssic videos from sites for very not small, spankings on not-bad buttocks, the young man did not risk, intuitively realizing that he may not meet understanding. Instead of spanking, he carefully and gently took hold of her thighs and began to enter and slow, gradually accelerating rhythm, with each movement more and more falling into the shroud of desire that covered his head. Only heavy breathing, only hoarse moans, only the spping of two bodies rapidly bringing pleasure to each other, the sp of skin against skin, and the third peak didn't take long to come, drinking all the juices from his body, pouring into Shera's seemingly red-hot womb.

  And then they change positions again. Once again, but without haste and impetuosity. There is a rexed tenderness in their movements, and fatigue, too. She was on top again, rising, sitting on his cock and slowly moving her hips, keeping her hips on her partner's pelvis, or lying down with her breasts against his chest to continue kissing, but without passion, with a zy tenderness. Her wheaten curls - the ones on her head - stuck to her face, and beads of sweat covered her entire body. The young man, too, was breathing hastily, exhausted, and a unit of Constitution is a unit to tire only a little slower than a normal man.

  The fourth orgasm came at odds, this time the young man cumming first instead of simultaneously with Shera, but the hearth of passion in his aura took hold of the partially and temporarily entwined thin bodies, transmitting some of the passion back, and after just a few seconds the priestess herself moaned softly, rolling her eyes and exhaling heavily. The st orgasm seemed to finally finish the woman, who turned out to be surprisingly tough, from which she fell next to him, pressed against the pale chest of the isekai and, closing her eyes, fell asleep almost instantly, whispering to him that inexperience is felt, but, as it turns out, the experience can be gained from books. The guy, whose experience was actually quite practical, was not offended at all, stroked the tits he liked so much for some time, kissed the woman who seemed so nice now in her nose and fell asleep.

  Interlewd End

  The morning greeted the awakened guy with a gentle exhaustion, the warmth of the body pressed against him, which also threw a leg over his waist, as well as a feeling of thirst, even dryness, and stuffiness. After all, the warm and soft body of the beauty next to him had managed to shift overnight and now literally threatened to strangle the poor man with her tits. Stepan, of course, considered such a death worthy and honored, but he still did not hurry to die and did not want to. Having slipped out of the embrace of Shera, who turned out to be a sleepy girl, he quenched his thirst with a supply of herbal collection of a restorative type and began to quietly look for his and her clothes. Yesterday they had obviously been in a hurry to indulge in unbridled passion, so the only thing that saved them from the cssic scene with the bra on the chandelier was that there was no chandelier in this house, and Shera didn't wear a bra.

  Pulling on his pants and covering the sleeping priestess of a very kind goddess with a couple of spirits, which began to cut off unnecessary noise, making it as quiet as her breathing, the young shaman began to search for food. Apparently, Kirik, who knew life and had seen exactly with whom he had left yesterday, decided not to bother the two gifted in the morning with the delivery of food and let them both sleep. Finding a few handfuls of dried grapes, infused with magic because he was preparing to offer them as a sacrifice to the spirits, Stepan decided that he could make the sacrifice to himself, eating the sweetness with gusto. A quick gnce at his status revealed not only that his experience scale had grown to almost three quarters, but also a message from the system with another gifted talent.

  Received: “basic techniques of tantric practices”; slightly increased psticity and power of aura; increased probability of gaining knowledge and properties of seduction branch.

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  As he had once suspected, it was a matter of time and the avaibility of a partner for the retionship. Apparently, the mutual saturation ritual he and Shera had pulled off that night on pure (and naked!) intuition counted as a key to the knowledge. Basic and not too useful, this knowledge successfully allowed him to apply all kinds of techniques of both recovery and recharge or energize his partner through sex. Due to the synergy of skills, Stepan was able to apply and remove curses, love charms, and subjugation through sex, reinforcement, pnt spirit, healing trauma, and even auric trauma. Directly life-giving sex, no other way to put it, but these skills are at least really useful in a number of situations, unlike the same love charms of various sorts or calling spirits-contractors, which will agree to fulfill only those contracts, which specify the total obscenity of the name of Great Milf. He, for example, managed to get into bed a real priestess, experienced and not deprived of male attention long before meeting Stepan. And even the moral trauma left after Truda didn't interfere, though it should have. At first, he was really still stiff and awkward, always afraid of another trick or even some kind of attack, if not by a potion poured into the drink, then at least by a specific prayer, but then nothing, he put aside unnecessary thoughts and gave himself to the impulse of passion.

  One moment.

  He really had somehow managed to calm down, to put his fears to rest and to leave voluntarily with Shera. He had every reason to fear her, and he was clearly going to keep that fear alive! Falling into a light trance, remembering the previous evening and what had happened then, he fished his own thoughts out of his memory, comparing them with the present ones, evaluating them calmly and impartially. And he could clearly see that at some point he had given up all other options but to give in to Shera's unconcealed hint and spend the night with her. He didn't regret it, it seemed, but now he felt a little uneasy. It wasn't exactly mind-affecting in its purest form, he wasn't even sure if it was mind-affecting at all, but if it was, it was something close to an emotional-spiritual touch: it was as if his apprehension had been cut off, courage added, and a banal carnal desire when the wrong head was thinking. None of the influencing factors were harmful or particurly strong, it was unclear whether they were at all, but the result was what it was.

  Stepan looked at the sleeping woman without much warmth, but without aggression, having only strengthened the cocoon of cutting off spirits around her, so as not to awaken her with his next actions. A professionally performed check of the spiritual body showed no traces of any long-pying bookmarks or enchantments, though a full-fledged check would have required a bit more time, as well as a couple of specific invocations. But at first impression, there was nothing dangerous or simply unnecessary in his aura, his mind also seemed clean, but there were still remnants of the traces of the same thin bodies, only Shera's, not his. In theory, after a night like this, she could use those remnants to create a full-blown aura cast, especially if there was a sample of the same seed (and there would be, after a night like that). But he was and remained under the shroud the whole time, so his aura is not really the same as even a professional cast will show. Ritual renunciation of body parts, which allows not to fear for every dropped drop of blood or hair. He regurly conducts and calls different spirits or maniputes his own spiritual body - for this experience dripped. So it seemed that nothing so terrible had happened, but the mood was still not cheerful, a little angry even, the kind of mood that made him want to ask the priestess in his bed a few questions.

  By the time she woke up, sleepily wiping her eyes and yawning and covering her body with a bnket, Stepan had successfully completed the summoning of several combat and auxiliary spirits, prevented himself from reapplying what the snake had recently petted him with, even if it was unclear what it was, and sat down on the chair opposite the sleeping woman and looked at her meaningfully. From the outside, as some detractor would say, he looked like a cocked sparrow or a pouting cat that a two-legged sve had forgotten to feed in the morning. But if the detractor could see a tense and twitching in readiness aura, looking very threatening even in the reduced-hidden version of the shroud, he would definitely suppress a smile and swallow the barb, so as not to have to swallow blood and teeth.

  “Mm-hmm?” The not fully awakened beauty mumbled something incomprehensible, dropping the bnket and again revealing her rge and expressive virtues to the indifferent and calm gaze of the shaman. “Pann, why are you looking at me as if I were an enemy?”

  She began the sentence sleepily and absent-mindedly, but she finished it only pretending, looking around and obviously sensing, if not the spirits ready for battle, then the general tension of the spiritual world in this pce. Not that she was frightened, but she clearly dropped her frivolity and picked herself up, though Stepan did not feel any danger from her. But he hadn't felt any danger from her st time either, though there had been no danger then.

  “You know, honorable Shera, I am a very calm and distrustful man.” He began from afar, speaking in a quiet and shrill tone, like the rustling of leaves in the wind, just as cold and unpleasant. “And I also have a habit of noting those moments when my calmness or incredulity seems to recede miraculously. Like yesterday, for example. Because I would swear on my spirits that when I came to talk to you, I had no intention of going back in anyone's company. Could you, honorable one, shed some light on this oddity?”

  For a few seconds, she was clearly in a state of not panic but nervousness, showing that the tone and attitude of yesterday's lover had thrown her off bance, but then she listened to the end of his speech, realized it, and the panic disappeared. For a few seconds, the priestess looked at the young man incredulously, as if realizing what had been said, and then understanding fshed across her face and she... ughed. At first quietly and in her fist, then she giggled aloud, and then she leaned back on the bed and shook in ughter, which looked quite erotic, considering the nakedness of the accused.

  “Yes, dear Pann, you said such a thing.” Somehow there was no fear in her, nor apprehension, only amusement and a slight annoyance, nothing more. “I didn't really believe it yesterday when you said, supposedly you were raised by your grandfather in the wilderness and taught everything. Those who have lived in the woods don't talk so correctly. You have an academically trained nguage. They hire a rhetorician for such a thing, we were all taught the same way in the temple and not all of us learned it. And you have shown such art of love-making that Gaia blesses those distant farms where young men can be taught such things. I'll get a job there as a preacher. But now, after your question, I believe you at st, honestly and completely: apparently, your grandfather, honorable and revered by me, taught you well, and the maidens of your farm grew up shameless for simple peasants, having taught little you obscene things. But, holy nd, only a very dull man could ask such a question to the priestess of the Giver of Life.”

  With each word of the priestess Stepan's eyes became bigger and bigger, getting further and further out of orbit, and the priestess didn't even notice that after listing his “failures”, more and more spirits received the command to be ready to strike. But at the moment when Shera's monologue interspersed with ughter ended, interrupted by an attempt to catch his breath, the guy calmed down and decided to listen to some obvious truth, which was told to him at the same second and without dey.

  “Every priestess, even a novice, has Her eye and blessing on her, Pann.” The woman expined, beginning to dress leisurely and handsomely as if trying to bring him out of his cold abnegation. “That is why we are not touched by wild beasts, nor attacked by the lower undead or some forest wickedness. Her will averts evil, prevents harm, and makes them pass by. For in essence, Gaia is a great mother to all of us, to all living and giving birth, bearing fruit and nourishing life, and to raise a hand against those who bear Her will is like hitting a mother. It is possible, but not everyone dares, even if he is a complete murderer. It doesn't work like that with people or other reasonable people; Her priestesses have other means against roadside thugs or a dashing murderer. But still, it becomes calm near us, there is no pce for anger or fear if the priestess herself also does not harbor evil or fear if you do not wish for evil. Yesterday I wanted you, Pann, and you wanted me - these two desires resonated with each other, that is why you calmed down so quickly, lost distrust, because you did not want to suffer distrust yourself. This is not love sorcery, no matter what you think, without a sincere and mutual desire you would be at most a little rexed, no more. And this priestly secret of ours is known to every fox in the forests, in fact, if not among the peasants and farmers, then certainly among any trained gifted ones.”

  The spirits of words and meanings, pnted directly in the body, did not sense any lies, and the priestess herself was as sincere as possible, without even trying to close herself off. And she couldn't, if you thought about it, because the same resonance of auras worked in the opposite direction, and Stepan, thanks to his new talent, could easily use this bridge, reading the priestess as if she were an open book. And she was having fun, without even realizing that she was dangerously close to going to her goddess for a direct audience. And, come to think of it, this time Stepan was the one really overexcited, began to see all sorts of things where there were none, to blow on water, having been burned once on milk. Expinable, but still a little embarrassed, even a little ashamed: he lost control only to give himself a sck and almost killed this miracle with curls. No, she had seduced him, and she might have suspected that the “wild forest boy” would not resist her charms, but, on reflection, her influence did not count as an influence. It could certainly be strengthened or otherwise changed, but then he would certainly not miss the traces on his thin body, even with the most rudimentary check would not miss.

  It's awkward.

  "Okay, I admit I was wrong, and I'm sorry, Shera." He squeezed out, discreetly dismissing his unused entourage, but he still had the st word. "Still, I don't think you'd like it if I decided to use a weak, even if not recognized as such, charm against you. Just to loosen you up a little, that's all."

  It didn't seem so polite, but the irritation that had fred up was not so easy to extinguish, and there was no more angry asshole than an asshole who realized that he had fucked up. On the other hand, was Stepan so fucked up, if his ignorance of the local culture was almost for the first time positive rather than negative? No, it would be necessary to take care of a good defense against passive auras like Shera's, especially if it was enough to keep one's head up and stay focused, but that wasn't the point. He first let himself be suspected of lying and only at the expense of his own ignorance was able to very cleverly correct the situation. Yes! If anything, he'll tell everyone that this was the pn all along!

  "If I'd been ter and more ort-ho-dox, if I'd said it right, you'd have to repent to Her for comparing Her gift to the despicable love witchcraft." Shera was not embarrassed. She sipped the potion before taking a second sip. "But since I had to be a mentor in love matters for such a nice young man, I'll say the following. You can try to bewitch me on the night of passion, even every day while I'm here, try it. I'll stay for a couple of weeks at least, meet the moon, and perform the ritual on the grain, since Kirik, even after spending all the free silver, agrees to write a receipt in the name of the temple about the transfer of part of the harvest. You'll have plenty of time. Go ahead, Pann, go ahead."

  The answer in such a style, of course, for a second knocked him out of his rut, but the young man calmed down quickly, though it was impossible to understand whether this pest was talking seriously or was also teasing. Her eyes were fair and honest, her tone was serious and her whole look seemed to say,// “Come on, try, you little bastard, I won't even get angry." In general, it was confusing, and Stepan couldn't find a reason for it.

  "That's a very funny joke, Shera." He commented in a perfectly even voice that even an autistic person could hear sarcasm in. "Don't joke like that again, or I'll think you're not joking."

  And again the ugh, with which the second and st handful of raisins was taken away from the visibly rexed young man, and, slyly looking straight into his eyes, said something even more unexpected.

  “I'm not kidding, to be honest.” The priestess shrugged her shoulders and looked at her interlocutor's bulging eyes, like those of an anime character, and expined. “In the name of the Life-Giver, as a priestess of her, I permit you to test your gift on me in this manner without threat or retaliation in case of success or failure. And if you succeed, that is your victory and a lesson to me for the future. And if you fail, then kneel before the Fertile One in earnest prayer, and we will consider the bet closed.”

  For a while Stepan tried to understand what was happening, and then he decided not to get involved because it was unclear whether he had again failed to grasp some part of the cultural code, or whether he was being cruelly and mercilessly mocked with an extremely serious face, inwardly ughing at his bewildered face. The st remark, however, finally convinced him not to take any chances, because prayers were a marker for the spirit. He, as a carrier of the system, did not need such prayers too much, but they could harm him in one way or another. The most effective way to bring harm will be a banal attraction of attention of the one to whom the prayers were addressed.

  “No, sorry Shera, I probably said something wrong or misunderstood you, but I don't pray to the gods, only talk to the spirits.” She seemed to him quite adequate, on such heresy, characteristic for almost any shaman, if he does not combine shamanism with pure priesthood, she should not start foaming at the mouth and run after the earthling with cries of imminent autodafe. “Whatever favorable impression the Life Giver and her priestesses have made of me, I'm still going my own way. The spirits see I have brought no evil to Gaia, nor have I seen any from her, so let it stay that way.”

  Shera did not look at the young man with anger or contempt. She only cpped her eyes, which were as bulging as Stepan's, and then bent down in a fit of ughter. When the young man tried to get a word in edgewise and demand an expnation, she only began to ugh even louder, interspersing her howls about wild forest men with new bursts of ughter and very inventive nguage. In the second minute, Stepan's eyebrow began to twitch slightly, and in the third minute it twitched more than slightly, and he added to it a twitching eye. Apparently, having sensed something like that with her female intuition, Shera calmed down and began, gasping for air, to expin to the innocent and unspoiled shaman what the entire civilized world of the local Ecumene understood by the phrase “to offer an apologetic prayer to Gaia, kneeling before her priestess”. From this point of view, the proposed dispute looked much more honest and attractive - either to bewitch the priestess, dragging her into the bed, thus proving your superiority, or “apologize in prayer”, that is, banal eat her out. What an interesting goddess, the parallels are becoming clearer and clearer, he can only hope that Gaia at least does not use the system of answering machines.

  "That's what it's like, forest boy, that's what it's like. Forgive me for ughing, I was just dumbfounded when you started telling me about the way of the spirits in all seriousness. As if I didn't study at the temple and I don't know how you shamans live and perceive the world, phew. You made me ugh, Pann, I haven't ughed so much for a long time." The calmed priestess had time to wash her face and even her body from the barrel with cold and clean water, praising the young man in passing for the fact that he cleansed that water with spirits, without even having time to apologize for the fact that he forgot to heat that water, and therefore she was in a very good mood. "But I was serious about that argument, by the way. You know, I was lucky to be born beautiful, and even before I became a novice, I had time to be harmed by love charms. There is a dirty story, I will not retell it, but I will only say that as soon as I became a novice I received from Her a blessing that protects the mind from other people's passion and false feelings. No, of course, this blessing has its limits, it can't be compared to a granite rock in hardness, but it will be enough for the attempts of a young shaman-healer. I think so. So will you risk it? I promise and before Her, I assure you that I won't hold a grudge for your success, we'll just have a night of tumbling and that's it, in the morning you'll tell me what an arrogant loser I am."

  Stepan still holding several rather powerful spirits of understanding inside his own aura and spiritual body, could see clearly that she was not telling the whole story. She liked this kind of game, she definitely wanted to make a bet with an inexperienced boy. And no, not because she secretly liked to be under the influence of charms, but rather the opposite, she had a slight antipathy to such magic in general and did not want to be under its influence, although she did not lie about the fact that she would honestly accept defeat, even if she did not believe in defeat. No, there was something else going on here. Something that made Shera try to sneak poor Pann into this argument and win. She tried but didn't realize that the somewhat unsociable and silent boy was from a different society, where pying with words and provocation could be no worse than here, and he wasn't out of the woods to not recognize manipution.

  "Oh, all right, all right, if you don't want to gather nectar on your knees with your tongue, you can do it another way." In the meantime, she changed the subject casually, and by the tension of her spiritual body, which was indicated by the spirits, the shaman realized that now he would know her real goal. "Let's make it simple. I will impose on you a small Penance of Overflow of Passion, just for the period until the first disappearance of the Moon. What, are you scared? A mighty forest shaman will be afraid to look at a beautiful woman?"

  He had already heard about this “weapon” in the hands of priestesses, though it sounded, of course, as if they were retelling a vulgar tale, and not about serious divine punishments. But, it turns out, Kirik was not lying then, the priestesses really know how to make the “fastest shooter in the Wild West” out of a too-insolent man. And another thing... Even if the aura of the priestess hid a lot of things, simply due to its density, closing from the gaze of not the strongest spirits, something through such a natural disguise peeked through, especially if rexed and cheerful after a night together Shera did not even try to hide too much.

  "Uh, I don't even know how to ask, but you're making me think I'd agree to take your Penance on myself if I lose, aren't you?" He didn't sense any aggression or meanness in her, only amusement and still smoldering passion, which made him stop understanding anything, and decided to cut the knot of riddles by asking her directly. "What benefit to you from the fact that I will fall under such influence? Or do you, in your temple, give priestesses a prescription for priestly bors: five times to bless fields, twice to deliver babies, once a season to curse someone with a signature blow of the Life-giver, otherwise there is no advancement in rank?"

  This time she looked at him in such a way that he thought she had choked, for her cough was very natural at the end. She choked on her words once, once, and then again, she took a drink of water and jabbed her finger indignantly at Stepan as if to accuse him without words, but not clearly of what. It would have looked threatening, but her aura didn't move, and she didn't recite prayers, only tried to breathe.

  "Have some sense of tact, if not conscience. We've had a normal conversation, Pann. No, it was a funny joke, but a priest of some temple could have been punched in the face for such joking." And then she squinted attentively, suspiciously, like a character from Futurama, and the suspicion was repced by understanding and slight irritation, and the power of the deity in her slightly changed its tone, seemingly temporarily increasing the intensity by a couple of points. "Ooh, shaman! I didn't realize it right away! I guess, while you were thinking your nonsense in the morning, you managed to summon some kind of lie reader? Let me guess, it's also from your grandfather, my repeated homage to him, left the call, right? Oh, why are you looking at me like that? That's what I'm trying to do, a fair fight and then a fair win for me or you. No trickery or malice, really. Now, if it's so, I'll confess: Yes, I like to put that Penance on men, especially good-looking guys like you, Pann. I like to see how the sight of tits makes them spunk and they can't hold their passion, that's it. Stop looking at me like I'm trying to poison you. And if you tell anyone, I'll be offended, honestly, and no, I won't retaliate either, I'll just come up to you and look at you like a stupid sheep, okay? Let's close this subject with a seal if you're scared, Pann. You don't want to take risks, you can't win, so I'm not judging you, so don't judge me, okay?"

  Stepan really understood everything, especially when the priestess who had figured out his trick expined everything directly and stopped hiding. Well, it was not the worst fetish, because she could be fond of all sorts of games with hot iron or rivers of blood, but that was for priestesses of darker goddesses, probably. However, the devils know them, because Stepan with his experience understands how much Mother Nature has many forms and how far these forms are far from kindness. Gaia is the goddess of fertility, not of nature, but still, he would not vow that there were no dark movements in her cults. Because the same knowledge tells him that almost every god has dark movements, but the scale is different. Likewise, by the way, almost every dark god has at least the rudiments of more moderate or lighter movements of religion, although it is not so pronounced. In any case, he saw no point in taking offense at the priestess anymore, only grinned at the way she was pying chicken. Obviously, Stepan was not going to fall for her provocation in any way, if only because he could certainly win in this confrontation, even if she gave him only half a day's time.

  No, that was enough. He suspected her of something wrong, but he was wrong and embarrassed himself. She had tried to tempt him into some of her games, but he had exposed her and made her blush, too, even if barely noticeable. At this point, it was time for them to stop and part amicably, satisfied with each other and without any unnecessary hard feelings. Especially since he did feel some warmth and respect for his partner in st night's lovemaking. But the young man did not have time to close and cut off the topic, he just opened his mouth and shut it, because a really unexpected system notification appeared before his inner gaze.

  System assignment (average): accept the terms of the contest with Shera, priestess of the Life Giver, and then win the contest by casting a love charm on the opponent, which will result in a night of passion. For a satisfactory performance, at least one successful casting of the charm on the opponent is required; for a complete performance, at least three successful casting of the charm are required; for a perfect performance, the contest must end in such a way that the opponent never realized that she had lost the contest, and she left Upper Lyady, truly confident in her victory. It is permissible to use the gifts of Liarat si Merrinal, Lord of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney.

  Reward: increased effectiveness of love charms, a significant increase in the probability of occurrence of seduction branch talents among those avaible for selection at level up, one talent point that can be invested exclusively in the meta-skills section; at full performance: one talent point that can be invested exclusively in the meta-skills section for each casting of a charm on an opponent, up to a maximum of five; at perfect performance: one random meta-skill of advanced or elite type.

  Stepan had noticed even earlier that Autogoddess assignments, in addition to their humiliating vulgarity, most often offered a reward that was a rank or two higher than the assignment's rank. After he gained access to medium assignments, the situation became even more fun, because the reward from the Autogoddess was just incredibly sweet. First of all, because each of the promised points could be distributed independently. Without this detail, the young man would hardly have bothered to raise another useless and suitable only for the debauchery of all sorts of shit, like pumping through sex. But it wasn't bullshit. In another situation, he wouldn't have gone along with Megamilf, actually raping Shera, who had done nothing to him. But the priestess herself had offered the bet on terms favorable to her, hoping to have some fun at the expense of the cocky young man and her own increased resistance.

  The d pondered for about a second and a half, frozen for a moment with his mouth half-open, caught in the middle of the sentence. Only when he saw the cunning and waiting impishness in the eyes of the woman sitting opposite him when he caught and intuitively felt, her mood and provocation, he made this decision not feeling particurly guilty. After all, it wasn't him or even the Autogoddess, whose system utility took the opportunity to issue a quest. Well, or then it should be considered as if the system automatically adjusted the threads of fate so that he met here with Shera, the priestess who offered him this bet, while having her intriguing tastes. He didn't want to think about such an option, even though Stepan, with his magical knowledge, realized that the power of the entities that created and maintained the system could do more than that.

  That would be a very unhappy reflection.

  "Well, okay, let's make a bat, and if I lose, no hard feelings." He said, extending his hand in a local gesture that was a little different from the Earth handshake, holding back a smile as he sensed, with the help of his spirits, the change in Shera's emotions. She almost shouted out loud, Gotcha. "I may be a healer, but I have nearly a decade and a half until the moon is full and ripe for you to perform the ritual on the grain at Kirik's request. Isn't that right?"

  “Yes, that's right, Pann, I accept your bet, and I assure you of it with my word.” She squeezed his wrist, even a little closer to his elbow than his hand, smiling her best smile, sly and satisfied. “And I'll be staying here for a few days afterward, just as the next ship under the city magistrate's crest is due to sail, and it will pick me up as working for the magistrate, be damned the day the high priestess Avira contracted me for that service. Are you sure you won't change your mind? I'm not joking, you'll do a month's penance like a good boy. I won't ugh if you back out, even a brave warrior would rather celebrate a coward.”

  Stepan could hardly refrain from rolling his eyes at how obvious this teasing was, which only made the young hot-blooded man more stubborn. Well, the st thoughts about whether not to py the situation back while he could, this clever manipution finally repulsed. After all, if he had been a really wild and immature shaman's apprentice from a distant farm, who had been taught magic arts and high sciences, but not life experience, who had already had bed experience, but not in too rge quantities, he might have fallen for such a pitch. It's not like he doesn't know how the goddess defense works like Shera boasted about recently. It may well turn out that for his skills this defense will present some serious problems as well - specific and narrowly focused divine blessings tend to become monstrously effective within their directive. This is also characteristic of cssical magic, but with prayers and blessings, this aspect manifests itself most vividly.

  Otherwise, Stepan might well have feared that he would lose the bet, but the note that the gifts of the Milf Goddess could also be used.... well, here a complex and very interesting task smoothly passes into the category of “free pumping for the very dumb”. He would finally have a reason to summon and make good use of Sleepwalker's summoning... At the same time choking with greed, realizing that he could find a rge gang of brigands or evil orkgoblins, ordering him to kill them and thus take five to seven levels at once, no less, if only he had the right to order this to a spirit. However, there must have been something to spoil his mood while he was developing the meta-skills branch for free, right?

  "No, I won't say no." He said in the tone you'd expect from a stubborn, young talented gifted person who wasn't used to facing obstacles to his talent, looking straight into Shera's ughing eyes. "Shall we start tomorrow, or right now?"

  "No, we'd better start tonight, because right now, Pann, I don't really want to bet." Before he could get a word in edgewise, the woman drew him closer, kissing him on the lips and pulling off the clothes she'd just put on.

  At least this time Stepan had time to order the fme spirits, pced in small stones at the bottom of the barrel, half-empty after the morning wash, to warm the water to a comfortable temperature. Shera certainly appreciated it, and even pleadingly demanded to make her a couple of such warming stones. Stepan mentally put the request in his busy schedule and found no reason to refuse her this small thing, or to refuse her at all, because he wanted the same thing from her.

  _RIP_