Hero Of His Own Opinion

Chapter 2

With my dear Heroes, I tramped barefoot for at least two kilometers. We came to a huge glowing crystal, and then we were transported... To the city square.

I was a little confused. I'm not used to teleportation at all. What do we have here? Day, a little after lunch, most likely. Opposite the portal is a huge building with large letters "Adventurers Guild". Yeah, and here's the visual action of [Interpretation].

Algirdas didn't let me enjoy the city views. He pushed me roughly in the back while I tried to hide my face in the hood and look at the situation. I don't want a lot of people to remember my face.

City as a city. It's typical, medieval. It was fairly clean, although there was some dirt and debris. In General, it seemed to me that the Characters led me a short way, where not everything was so ostentatious.

Ragged children, beggars, cripples, some suspicious characters. All of them dissolved as soon as the heroes got closer. I was alarmed: are they afraid? Or do they think that I am being escorted and I am dangerous?

Soon we came out on the wide paved streets with large slabs, you can immediately see that the rich live. Everything is clean, beautiful, pompous. Here's the castle. And the checkpoint, where I was waiting for a not very pleasant surprise: I was handed over. Seriously. I was handed over to security! After these morons, Algirdas seemed like a real gentleman. They pushed me in the back with their spears and took me to the dungeon, where they locked me in a cage without even untying me.

Gorgeous! But it became even more gorgeous a couple of hours later, when dinner arrived. They pushed it through the c***k at the bottom of the door and left. No one answered my requests to untie my hands. I looked into the bowl. Melancholy and sadness. My dog's food at the dacha looked more appetizing. Thank you, I'll hold off for now. Well, I'm a Hero, after all? They can't leave me here without a trial, can they?

The mood was lousy. Smelly hoodie, hunger, prison Ambre, rats that looked at me with disbelief from their holes at first, and then entered the contents of the bowl ... Sad, comrades. It is uncomfortable to sit, my hands are numb. And a little boring. And afraid for his carcass. I'm the only one here.

I don't know how much time has passed. The only light was from the torches in the corridor, which reached me through the grate at eye level and the food slot at the bottom. The bowl was taken away in silence.

I studied my status and found an edit point. It allowed you to modify or hide parts of the status. I don't need it yet, but I need to keep it in mind.

I woke up exhausted. It seemed to be morning. The anxiety only increased along with the numbness of his numb limbs.

Guards occasionally passed along the corridor. But no one seemed to care about me. At least they don't t*****e you. And the straw was under his back, so it wasn't on the bare stone floor. Memories popped up in my head from such thoughts.

...

I was tied to a chair and beaten. Another painful blow to the jaw. My eyes were swollen. I just spat blood and growled something unintelligible. The fat lip...

The bearded interrogator moved away from me as a young man in the perfectly clean and ironed uniform of an enemy officer entered a dark, small room with a single lamp on the table. Unlike his colleague, he was clean-shaven and behaved with marked politeness and intelligence.

– Well, why do you, citizen Ivanov, take us for idiots at all? the

Man slammed the folder on the table and sat down.

— We know all about you, " he said deliberately, savoring his own superiority over the stupid me that he didn't understand the whole situation. — When you graduated from school, when you were drafted into the army, how you transferred to the special forces after conscription. Or will you continue to deny it, Sergeant Vladimir Ivanov? We know about your mother, too. Patriotism is good, I praise it, but think about your family. My mother's heart is weak.

— How many weapons were brought? Atici! — unable to bear the ruthless interrogator yelled at me, spittle flying. Atwiki or umreti!

A blow to the stomach that sends all the air out of my lungs ...

...

I shuddered at the memory. No, there are advantages to everything. Even when you're alone tied up in a cell...

* * *

After Breakfast, which I also didn't touch (I'm sorry, I'm not that hungry yet), they finally looked in on me. The guard roughly lifted me off the floor and set me on my feet. In the doorway, I noticed a burly old man looking at me with narrowed eyes.

I just grinned at him for a couple of seconds, and then he gave me a sort of nod of approval.

"Follow me," he said shortly and clearly, then turned and walked away.

I glanced at the indifferent guard, then stomped after the old man. He was about 70 years old, wiry, short, with a bald head and a thin beard. His hands were locked behind his back. His posture and gait clearly indicated that he was a good fighter and should not be deceived by old age.

In General, I liked him, immediately some respect appeared to him.

[Congratulations! A Simple analysis skill activated!]

A simple analysis UR1

[Specific: You can see the level, mana and health points if the opponent's level is no more than 5 points higher than yours]

I jumped back against the wall in surprise, looking around. What the hell

happened

— the old man asked with a note of interest, looking at me carefully.

— Nothing. Just nerves, " I said, and backed away from the wall.

"I understand, new world. You need to get used to a lot of things, " he nodded and went on.

We went up a flight of stairs, then another. After passing the fifth, we finally reached our destination: my grandfather led me into a room that looked like a swimming pool. Two girls immediately got up from the bench and looked at us, bowing. The old man, I guess.

The room is about twenty meters long, with taps on one wall and benches with basins on the other. Somewhere on the side of something like a bourgeois with a huge pot. How nice, for me to melt the water to heat.

– Girls, help our guest clean up. Then bring him to me.

Guest? How lovely. It's scary to imagine how they meet non-guests.

When my grandfather came out, I felt better, as if a heavy, oppressive aura had gone with him.

I looked at the women, they could be called girls with a stretch, 30-35 years old. Nondescript figures behind white linen dresses on the floor were poorly visible, but it was clear that they were thin.

"Hello, I'm Rasa," one of them said. "And this is Rue." We will help you.

— Thank You. Vladimir, " I nodded to them.

They helped me pull my hoodie over my head, then gasped when they saw the ropes. One of them went out and returned with a knife, obviously not a kitchen knife, probably from the guard.

I stretched, my joints creaking, feeling free. Yes, everything is noticeably numb.

When I finished stretching, the girls began to wash me, pouring me out of large bath mugs. First, they washed off the dirt and sweat with warm water, then began to lather...

I felt uncomfortable. Somehow I'm not used to such attention, I can wash myself, not so long ago. But, on the other hand, women may be older than me, but they are relatively nice-looking, not ugly. I decided to relax and watch them.

They acted skillfully, but somehow sneaking glances at me, smiling slightly. At one point, I bent down to one of them, almost meeting my lips and looking into her eyes. She froze and blushed a little, so I took her chin in my fingers and smiled. She pulled away, averting her eyes, but the smile clearly said that she liked the attention. They exchanged a meaningful look with her friend, who said she would return the knife to the guard.

"You are an unusual Hero," Ruta said, smiling and hiding her eyes.

The

question

Seemed to take her by surprise, and she thought about it.

— All aristocrats look at people like me with disdain, if at all. Servants are usually like furniture.

— But you are a beautiful girl, how can I look at you?

– well, that's not true at all.

She looked like a schoolgirl. Did no one ever compliment her?

– Believe me, it's true.

I smiled at her and gently ran my fingers over my cheek, a tactile gesture to make her pay attention to what I was saying.

— Who are the Heroes?

"Heroes save the world from Darkness —" she said with an admiring tone that surprised me. — Only they can overcome Evil, which is why they are summoned with the blessing of the Goddess herself. Heroes, they are second only to the king. Aristocrats who have no land and devote their lives to performing feats for the benefit of the light races. I am honored to serve you, Mr. Hero.

Oh, Oh! So we have a fan of such Heroes here? And outwardly so sincere, I didn't notice the hypocrisy. Why should she praise me so much? The conscripts seem to be something of a national hero, and now I'm one of them.

I have been called a bastard and a psycho more than once, and here I will become a fighter for a bright future. Sometimes life can present a kind of surprises that you wonder yourself. And this I say, that I have lived one life as a demon, and the other as a man. Now I have a third one waiting for me — as a Hero. Let's see what happens.

When the second maid returned, Ruta was already drying me with a towel, smiling from ear to ear, after which I was shaved and dressed in black trousers, half-boots, a light khabash shirt and vest. Led to the mirror.

Well! In principle, I looked quite decent, not like a starving man. He also noted that the nose that was broken in the second life fell into place, as if there were no three fractures and plastic surgery that changed the shape. The scars were gone, too. What about the titanium plate in the skull? I felt the skin under the hair and did not notice any previous irregularities. Miracles and only. Although, I'm back in the world of magic, isn't it wonderful?

After I finished admiring myself in the mirror, the women took me to the old man, who looked at the result of the refinement and nodded approvingly. His office looked like an accountant's or something. He must have been the Manager.