- Three liters for four conventional units! One liter for one conventional unit! - I shouted, standing in the Stinking Market. - Kara, bring me another keg!
The Stinking Market was literally stinking, which is why it got its name. It was actually located outside of Camelot and was traded by dubious people, pushing goods of dubious quality to the poor. However, the price was not high and bargaining was always appropriate, so the poor came here in huge streams in search of a freebie. Although there were also old men, taught by experience, who managed to buy cottage cheese for half the price of the city.
- Ha-ha-ha, Mordred, you are not very smart. I took three liters and paid only three U.S. dollars! - said some poor man, showing me his backpack with bottles. - Learn to do business and see you later!
"And you too!" I replied, not even imagining why this cheap Jewish trick worked so well, increasing my sales many times over.
Several idiots had already approached me and bragged about how smart they were. I don't know if they needed those three liters of beer, but in any case, I literally had an endless supply of it. I poured it non-stop from the endless mug, realizing that I had made the right choice after all. Although it would be more accurate to say that I was just lucky. In any case, thanks to trading, we had already collected half of the amount needed to pay off the debts.
- Master Mordred! Master Mordred!!! Don't push me, I'm his assistant!!! - Kara screamed at the top of her lungs, pushing her way through the crowd, because with the prices of my alcohol I had brought down the market and attracted all the local drunks who were bringing me their last money.
"WHAT IS A CURRENCY?" I shouted, not having time to pay and feeling that my bag was overflowing with coins, becoming too heavy.
— THE GUARD!!! COMING TOWARDS US!!!
- Your mother...
Clouds were gathering over the Stinking Market, for by our actions we had committed something unimaginably terrible, something that was capable of awakening dark forces more terrible than any of the Chaos Gods.
- FREE BEER!!! A BOTTLE FOR EVERYONE!!! TAKE IT!!! - I yelled, immediately throwing my bag over my shoulder and starting to make my way back from the guards.
The crowd immediately fell upon them, and other people joined them, starting to press the guards. I retreated quickly, because I would rather sell my soul to Tzeentch than pay taxes. Fuck them, not my money. They didn't invest a penny in my business, why should I pay them taxes? And anyway, I didn't even know how to do it and whether I needed to register anything. I probably did, but… why complicate things if you could just not pay, right?
- Great job, Kara! We'll go to other markets a couple more times and pay off our debts, and then maybe we'll do some repairs!
Kara ran up to me, dragging a pony with a canister attached to it on her back. She wasn't even sweating, she was surviving through hard labor. Her hands were calloused and there were dark circles under her eyes. She was doing everything alone that would normally take a dozen servants. However, despite all this, she was still quite a beautiful and young girl.
Her face did not look aristocratic, but I probably have never seen a sweeter smile. It was just a pity that she smiled rarely. And her black hair should have been let down, combed and washed, but I just had to find time for that. I felt sorry for her and I sincerely did not understand why she, without asking for any payment, still helped Mordred and me.
- Throw it here, no need to drag it.
"The canister is whole, we'll sell it at the market. No point in wasting it," Kara shook her head.
"We already have more than we need," I insisted and came up to him, starting to take off the strap. "Take it off. Oh… it's heavy…"
"Where did you get so much beer, Mister Mordred?" Kara asked, taking off her ponytail.
"No sleight of hand, just magic," I chuckled.
"You can't joke like that, Mr. Mordred," Kara shook her head, and her gaze became condemning. "Magic is forbidden, even the slightest suspicion of it can lead to burning."
- Oh yeah... right, I forgot, heh...
Kara attributed my strange behavior to habitual frivolity. However, with each passing day I learned more and more about this world. Psykers were considered magicians here and were burned. There were practically no computing machines and everything was based on manual labor. No servitors, no robots. This world was both archaic and much more advanced than my home world.
However, after listening to more than one story of Kara, I came to the conclusion that this planet was once colonized. And colonized by those whose ancestors lived on Terra. It was from there that they brought the tales I knew. And thanks to its conservatism and isolation, this world still kept this knowledge, which after some time grew into a kind of... cult or religion? I would rather use the word tradition, because gods were not worshiped here, honoring knightly codes.
Meanwhile, we ran further and further into the city, where we planned to put the money in the bank. The houses here were tall, there were even skyscrapers, albeit in the Gothic style. On the ground floors, as a rule, there were factories and industrial centers, where serf artisans worked for twelve hours, assembling cars by hand. Thanks to the huge amount of human resources, they produced quite good results. However, it was still completely unclear to me why they could not be replaced with machines.
- Oh, what beautiful towers.
- This is Galahad's castle. Impenetrable walls, orbital defense batteries, void and ion shields, and a home for knights. Oh, look, there seems to be a parade! Has the celebration already begun! And I completely forgot! Perhaps today Galahad will announce an heir! Oh... - Kara hesitated and looked at me, as if expecting some kind of angry reaction.
However, these words did not affect me at all, and nodding towards the house, we began to climb the fire escape. It took a long time and a long time to climb, but in the end it all paid off. And my curiosity was satisfied, but only to give me even more questions.
A military parade was marching straight through the city from the outer border towards the center of Camelot. Equipment that didn't look like Imperial equipment was marching in rows along with soldiers, but all of this paled in comparison to the ten-meter-long machines that walked on two legs and carried powerful weapons. Their strength and power should have been enough to simply crush tanks and turn infantry into a bloody mess. And these were clearly robots, the creation of which was impossible without high technology.
- Robots? You said robots...
- These are knights, don't you recognize them?
(Just in case, I'll clarify right away that the picture shows a knight, not a titan. Titans are even bigger, and even the smallest titan "Hound" will be bigger than any of the knights. Don't confuse them.)
- I found out, of course I found out, I was talking about that equipment, that one over there.
- I don't see...
- They are no longer visible, they have gone further. In any case, I probably confused them with something.
I translated the topic masterfully, and I myself began to slowly refresh the memory of the previous owner. Yes, now it became much clearer what knights were being discussed. Single-seat walkers for nobles. These machines were controlled by the best of the best, and only the best of the knightly houses received the right to become a pilot. One of these houses was controlled by Galahad, whose time had come.
And Mordred wanted to become a pilot, but he did nothing for it. He just showed up and started pumping his rights, begged for a test and failed it with shame, which caused incredible anger of his second cousin. The only thing that could be happy was that Mordred had no direct relatives left and they did not live to see the fall of the family, and how their only heir was given a cursed name, which was usually given to bastards and criminals.
My heart slightly ached from the pain that the phantom image of Mordred was experiencing. His soul had already left, but a piece of consciousness still lived, storing experience, knowledge and character traits. And looking at this car, I felt bitterness and an incredible desire to get into it, to rivet all the eyes of the assembled people. They looked at their heroes, whose very image inspired new achievements.
I partially shared these feelings, I would also like to be in their place at least once. However, unlike Mordred, I understood that I probably did not do even one thousandth of a percent of what those pilots did. Therefore, I did not think that I had the right to even claim such an honor. I did not know what the machine consisted of and what kind of weapons were on it, what ion shields and cannons were attached to them, how the different models differed, and I could not even imagine the unimaginable number of difficulties that pilots encountered during training in this difficult craft.
And thanks to understanding, I didn't feel envy, only admiration and a small, unattainable dream.
"Okay, let's go," I said as the knights disappeared over the horizon, leading a tail of infantry and armored vehicles. "There's still a lot to do."
"Yes, a lot," Kara agreed, then followed me down.
I tried not to look Kara in the eye, as well as to speak less in general. However, no matter how you look at it, she felt incredible changes. Everything, from habits to manner of speech, had changed. Although I knew the language, the pauses between words and the speed of their pronunciation were different. And although Mordred's character influenced me, my features occupied most of it, which also resulted in a change in behavior.
Kara would soon start asking unnecessary questions, which meant I needed to come up with some kind of story about how, after a concussion and a humiliating lesson from Galahad, I decided to change. Yes, it sounds like a fairy tale, but as one wise philosopher said: people find it much easier to believe in something that is impossible but probable than in something that is possible but unbelievable. Yeah, who would have thought that the only philosophy class I attended would come in handy.
Although I shouldn't encounter anything particularly difficult. After all, Mordred was an asshole, which means that others will rather start rejoicing at the positive changes than trying to find some kind of catch. I just need to make a list of potential enemies that the previous owner of the body managed to make. And pay off all the debts, because this half-wit probably managed to owe his friends and relatives, and not just the bank and the tax office.
"So… the bank is that way, right?" I suggested, going down the fire escape into the alley.
"That's right, Mister Mordred, right there," Kara nodded in agreement.
I walked confidently down the alley, intending to shorten the distance. I had a pretty good sense of direction, and with each step I remembered the city better and better. But despite all this, I had made a critical mistake. The crime rate in Camelot was far above zero, and walks down dark alleys rarely ended well.
- Whoa, who do we have here? - a typical representative of the marginal stratum came out from behind a trash can.
Dirty hair, a nose broken three times, missing teeth, broken ears, lice crawling in his thick beard, and overall he was a real freak. He stank about as bad as a Nurgle follower, maybe even worse. However, despite all this, he looked straight into the eyes, like a real wolf. There was no fear in him at all, because his whole life had passed in this hole and he would not mind even dying, if only it would all end. Or rob another victim and spend it all in a day or a week at most.
Besides, he was not alone.
"Lya-a-a, look at this!" whistled one of the bastards, leaning out of the window and quickly climbing out onto the fire escape.
One by one the scum came out of the basements, simply jumping out of the windows, in an instant we found ourselves surrounded by gangster punks. I had clearly entered the wrong area.
- Nice little dress, will you let me smell your hair? - one of the bastards immediately took a step towards Kara, who instantly took two steps back.
"Don't come near me," she hissed back.
- Snitch, where are you going? They'll misunderstand us! - said the center bastard, the one who was the first to come out from behind the trash can.
Then he turned his gaze to me and grinned widely. In a mock-apologizing tone, he said:
- Well, forgive me, but you know, times are hard these days. I see you're a rich guy. Will you help the poor, huh?
"You want to rob me?" I said, continuing to hold his gaze and feeling how three assholes had already lined up behind me, ready to punch me in the back of the head at any moment.
- Do I look like a thief? You're insulting me. I live by my own rules. And don't be stingy, help the common people. You won't become poor, - the stinking bearded man said with a crooked smile, after which he turned his gaze to my bag. - My word as a boy, we won't offend you and you'll go your own way.
And after these words everything became crystal clear to me. "A boy's word," I knew what it was worth. And I would rather cut my own throat than believe this lie. There is nothing more vile than such scum, ready to rob or kill another for the sake of satisfying their base needs. Drug addicts and alcoholics, looters and thieves - all their stories lay like open books on their faces. They took the last china from their grandmothers' house, were ready to sell even their own mother for booze or drugs, and nothing was sacred to them.
Only a fool would romanticize their cowardly nature, and only a fool would think that they could be reasoned with. And my life experience told me that there was only one correct way out of this situation:
"Here," I said and threw the bag of coins to this bastard.
He caught it with both hands and was surprised at how heavy it was. Joy appeared on his face for a moment, because he had already managed to imagine how and where he would spend this money. However, the joy was short-lived, because after throwing the bag, I took a quick step forward and smashed his face with my fist.
I hit him in the face, aiming for the nose. I had enough experience in street fights, I understood perfectly well that a blow to the jaw might not knock him out right away, and might even damage his hand. A blow to the nose was extremely painful, which allowed me to put the opponent out of action for a few seconds.
Immediately after that, I turned around and barely managed to cover my left temple with my elbow, because the other bastards did not hesitate and immediately rushed at me. But even Tzeentch saw that I sincerely hated such scum and this hatred was much stronger than fear. Besides, after living in Lex's body, fear in general had dulled. I was shot at, I was tortured, I saw the war and was in the epicenter of chaos. Should I really be afraid of these punks? Even in my first life, I preferred to get punched in the face than to bend under them. Now I had a chance to beat the shit out of them all.
"Shoot out the pretty one!" shouted another bastard, aiming at my right temple.
However, at that moment I leaned forward, putting my shoulder under the blow and at the same time getting closer to the third asshole. Even before the fist touched me, I kicked the asshole right in the balls with all my might. I also didn't plan to play the hero and win beautifully, because I was not that stupid and naive. With my physical abilities, both now and in my first life, it was possible to win a fight only with blows to the groin, eyes, nose - anywhere, but not where boxers hit in the ring.
- Ha-ha-ha! I'm first! - Meanwhile, the other punks had already started to twist Kara's arms.
"Bitch…" the freak groaned, clutching his balls and sinking to the ground.
I got hit on the spine, then on the liver. The remaining two hit me from the left and then from the right, aiming not at the head, but at the kidneys and knees. I couldn't cover myself completely.
- Where are you going, asshole?
"Put him out, bitch!" they screamed, beating me down and reveling in their own power, becoming more and more insane.
In the heat of the moment they have already lost self-control, such people can even kill, because when I fall, they will not stop, they will beat me until they kill me. It is not even that they are evil, it is just that a person is an extremely aggressive animal. And when he sees weakness, the instinct of a predator awakens in him.
That's why people who are down don't get beaten, they get finished off.
More chapters on my P@treon: https://patreon.com/OOOTEN