The storm swept over most of the Azores, and the lead-cast clouds covered the sky, and the rain it carried was so cold and abundant, that everyone in Sharp Jaws, every dog and every rat, was trembling and panting, trying to run as fast as they could, so that they could jump into any covered building.

The owner of the blunt-headed tavern pulled down the brass latch to keep the frenzied storm and other unwelcome things out of the thick oak planks, and one of his guests, the priest of Flo, was taking off his water-dripping woollen cloak in front of the leaping flames of the hearth, and an iron pot was erected on the hearth, and white steam was constantly rising, and the smell of goose and nutmeg was constantly rising.

After sharing the goose and half a bottle of cloudy blood-red wine, the tavern master and his guests lay comfortably by the hearth in the frontroom, the flames of which heated the surrounding slates, which were covered with fresh hay, and whose soft arms encircled his neck, and whose lips sank into plump shoulders and full breasts— It was a bit of an unforgivable sin to dare to disturb this wonderful moment, but the guy standing outside was obviously very stubborn, and the tavern owner cried out angrily and suppressedly, and helplessly broke free from the sweet noose, and before he got up to open the door, he did not forget to pick up his coat and throw it to the priest of Flo, "Cover yourself." He muttered.

The yellow-brown fur seal fur coat was heavy, and it had absorbed enough greasy, heavy fishy smell, choking tobacco, wine, and the peculiar goat smell of men, fat and wide, but very short, only enough to cover the priest above the buttocks, Flo's priest crossed his arms around his neck under his coat, folded his legs, and took a deep breath without mind, and listened quietly in the darkness created by his coat, the man who came was not a reckless man who knew nothing about Sharp Jaw Harbor, he knew how people here would knock on a door that he would not open, and succeeded in making the owner of the blunt tavern remain a precious silence after opening the door involuntarily, not a curse, a drive, or a sharp dagger.

"There is no room left. Said the tavern owner.

Usually he would suggest stables and corridors, and it seemed that this uninvited guest was not a man of limited money or who was too careless to accept both.

Coins collide with each other, copper, silver or gold? Gold coins, only gold coins, can make dissatisfaction and malice disappear in an instant, only these Huang Cancan's full of likable friends.

"If you're willing to live with someone else, there's a room," said the innkeeper kindly, "but you'll love her." ”

Flo's priest lifted her coat, and she had only time to catch a small patch of skin as white and transparent as the ice floe of the sea, black hair entwined with silver strings, a dark gray leather cloak, and knee-high boots—the back of the man who came was graceful and slender, and the steps were light, and he walked up the steep and narrow stairs that even a larger cat would creak through, and the saddle-brown travel staff and leather bag were carried in his hands.

The tavernkeeper slipped down his familiar staircase just as silently and quickly, and found the priest of Frow watching thoughtfully where they had disappeared.

"You may see later if you can get a little gift more precious than a goose," said the tavern keeper forcibly, "but for now—he is in your room, and you must first give me my payment." ”

Flo's priest replied with his stretched body.

While the tavernkeeper and the priest of Frow were desperately returning to the hot and sticky shaking, the former's new guests were cautiously surveying the tall and narrow room, which looked like a chisel standing upright, the blackened wooden beams that the three men could not even touch if they stood up on their shoulders, and the creature wooden window facing the door, the sharp cold wind and rain poured in from the gaps between the planks, and the traces of the water flowed down the gaps, between the white mud walls and the tables. The table, or more accurately, a dark brown pine chest, with a reasonable absence of ink or paper on the top, save only a clay lampholder in the shape of a sea beast of poor craftsmanship and a drinking jug with fragrant pea flowers of crimson and goose yellow inserted into it.

- Flo's Priest. Said the lich.

――What?

- The fragrant pea flower is a sacred relic of Flo. Only prostitutes and priests of Frow would offer fragrant pea flowers.

- Then she could also be a prostitute.

-- The difference between a priest and a prostitute is probably only that the priest can always save some money on medicine. The lich commented causticly.

The lights stink, and it was clearly cheap whale oil instead of expensive whale skull wax. A chair, lackluster in every way, seemed to have been placed there only as a decoration, with four legs stubbornly of their own length, and half of the face carved on the backrest. There were a few sprigs of old lavender scattered on the thin stone floor, the bed was next to two walls, there were no pillows, no blankets, reeds and rushes were ankle-to-knee thick, but unfortunately you could smell how damp it was without touching them, the wool felt that wrapped them was as thin as dried seaweed, and the color was unusually rich, especially the cracks and holes at the foot of the bed.

Several round-shelled insects were hurrying through the wounds, large and small, and a centipede the length of a human palm silently chased after them.

The new guest snorted subtly, he didn't expect to see the biodocumentary on the Documentary Channel in the other world.

- Don't make a fuss about one or two bugs, the lich says, they won't kill you.

- There were at least fifty gold coins in that bag, the otherworldly soul protested.

-- We all know that's not the price of a room.

- Including this room - Do you think it's possible to ask him to change rooms for us?

- For a stranger, this is probably the best room in Sharp Jaw Harbor.

- Stranger, I thought you chose this place because you knew it.

- I'm familiar with this place, the Lich said impatiently, and it's the weakest and most chaotic of the teleportation anchors I'm familiar with, and given our current state, it's the right decision.

――...... How many years ago was the last time you were seen in Sharp Jaws?

-- Ninety-six years -- human life and memory are too short, but fortunately, there is still something that has been preserved.

- Ninety-six, the soul of the other world repeated, trying to control himself not to sigh - well, what should we do next?

- Wait, said the lich.

The tavernkeeper was quick to finish, but Flo's priest showed warm and unexaggerated satisfaction, and with a clever compliment she was able to scoop a small basin of hot water from the stewed goose pot to wipe her body, as well as spiced lanolin for her to moisturize her skin and relax her muscles.

She stepped up the stairs with a clean, cool body and a knuckle-long whale candle, the golden bells twinkling on the thin belt, and through the dark hallway, she tentatively pushed the door, but found that it had not been bolted.

The pastor walked into the room and saw her roommate sitting in a chair.

"Why don't you sleep, if it's just to go to bed," she asked briskly, "is that chair better than a bed?"

He got up from his chair and stepped into the light of the candle, and the priest was alerted to the fact that the man was not as weak or ugly as she had imagined, or rather quite the opposite.

"Maybe you need a little wine," said the priest, holding up the candle to let more light illuminate his face, and his empty right hand magically took out a flat silver bottle, small as a toy, with only about four or five sips in it, "I have some mead, a gift from a smuggler, real mead, not a mixture of cider and grape juice in the alleys, unmixed with water and no sugar—the purest honey, aged for forty years," She sweetly persuaded, making one wonder if the wine had a good taste on her tongue: "Come and taste it," she urged, "a little bite, and you will know what true earthly bliss is." ”

She unscrewed the cap with her thumb, and a rich scent of honey proved that she was right. But to her dismay, the object of the temptation remained indifferent, and he only looked at her in an undisturbing way with a little inquiry and curiosity, had he ever seen a butterfly for the first time, and they would be attracted and seduced by it, and then they would seize it and tear its wings apart.

"It seems that you don't like mead," she said, with the disappointment of bending steel, but still as soft as a breeze in your ears, "then," she stretched out a little finger and unhooked the leather cord that tied the placket, and the coral-colored silk slid to the sides, revealing round, bulging breasts, which, by candlelight, were as beautiful as the dew that hung on the tips of the leaves in the morning.

"What about me?"