Brahm took the lead and went into the pub. The other two followed. When the door opened, a small bell rang, which was positioned so that it did so when new customers entered the establishment. The interior was completely lined with wood and all the tables had their own seating niches. At the front of the bar, there were also stools to sit on. The air was warm and hazy, making it difficult to breathe at first. After all, it was full of smoke, as was to be expected here. Overall, it was only half-lit in the tavern. A few guests could be seen through the haze. There was a lot more going on than one would expect at this time of day. The person whose idea it was to visit marched straight to the bar at the front. The bartender was standing there cleaning glasses. When the new customer approached, however, he quickly put his work aside and asked:

  "Hello! How can I help you?" - "Three of your best brew, please!" Brahm replied right away. Apparently, Wenzel would have a beer, too. Not that he would have said no, but it would have been nice if the one ordering had asked him. However, Wenzel understood that his friend was so overjoyed that he just did it without giving it a second thought. The three of them then sat down at a smaller table in the corner. Shortly afterwards, the waiter came and brought them three pints of beer. "Oh man, that's a big glass!" Wenzel thought to himself. Then they raised their glasses and clinked them. "To our birthday boy! Happy birthday, Wenzel!" Brahm toasted him. Ferenc also joined in the congratulations. The lad thanked them and then took a big sip from his glass. Though, it was so big that you could hardly tell if there was less in it now. The boy already knew the taste of beer, but wasn't really a big fan of it. However, he wouldn't simply refuse to drink on this occasion.

  He slowly drank from his glass again and again until the water level slowly dropped. Meanwhile, his colleagues chatted about anything and everything. "I didn't know this part of the country at all. But you were right, the beer here is really good," Ferenc attested. "That's what I said! Our lads in the camp just can't brew," replied Brahm, who had already ordered his second beer. Wenzel looked around the room a little inconspicuously. One or two people glanced over at them briefly, probably because the men were not from here. There were a few antlers mounted on the walls, trophies from hunting. In general, the place made quite a rustic impression. The lad had already gotten used to the smoky, stuffy air, but that didn't mean he liked it.

  "Says the barber surgeon to the juggler: "You still have six months to live. To which the juggler replies: "What? From what?" That was the joke Brahm told. Wenzel didn't understand it, but he laughed along so as not to seem stupid. His friend was definitely more cheerful now. That was, of course, because the alcohol was starting to take effect. The man ordered his third beer, while the other two were still on their first. Nevertheless, Wenzel still had fun. He now got on very well with Brahm, who had become his best friend. He immediately had to back down at that thought, however. In the boy's mind, his best friend was still Peter. He had been the first to accept and like him for who he was. At that moment, he wondered what had become of Peter and whether he was all right. Hoping was the only thing he could do in the current circumstances. Nonetheless, Brahm was an excellent mate whose friendship he wouldn't want to miss. Ferenc was also okay.

  "And is there anything you're looking forward to in the future, Wenzel?" Ferenc asked him. "What am I looking forward to? Maybe he means what plans I have for the future," the interviewee thought. After a little thought, he returned: "Actually, I've just been dragged along by many people, swept along by the wave, so to speak. What I would like to do myself is .... gain more knowledge about magic, because I want to understand myself better. And I would like to have a girlfriend one day. But I know that's not necessarily 'on the programme' at the moment, so to speak." - "You'll be fine! You'll find yourself a pretty girl! You just have to have the courage to approach one. Your main problem is that you're too much of a coward," the slightly tipsy Brahm interjected, without giving anyone the chance to say anything. Wenzel didn't know what he could say in response. His friend was right, of course, but he found it difficult to change anything about his personality.

  Ferenc continued: "And your parents were only adoptive parents, as far as I've heard. Is that right?" The young man nodded. "So, you don't know who your real parents are?" - "Unfortunately not. But I don't really care. Could just be that they died for some reason or they were ....huh..." Ferenc paused only briefly and then replied to Wenzel: "But there must be more to it than that, right? The parents of the Chosen One are not even known to him? Something about this stinks." - "I don't know either. Maybe they were 'eliminated' because of me. But that would leave open the question of why I was spared." The two men naturally didn't have any answers either. The boy quickly took the pendant out of his tunic and stared at it for a moment. "M.R., ....why do I have an item of Melgar's?" it went through his mind as it had done many times before. Then he let his pendant disappear under his clothes again.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "What about your parents, Brahm?" Ferenc now began a conversation that he had probably planned. The man, whose tongue was now looser, replied: "Screw my father and all of them! They're all dead to me!" Wenzel and Ferenc were both somewhat taken aback by this statement. They had no idea what to say in response. Clearly a little angry, Brahm then slumped down and added in a slightly softer tone: " "Who betrays his own roots is not worth a kreutzer." His comrades didn't ask him any more questions. In any case, the man better not drink any more today, because they wanted to find their way home again. But before this matter could become a problem, something else happened, something that would throw "the plan" overboard.

  A loud argument could already be heard from outside. Now, however, it seemed to be escalating into a turmoil. A few people could already be seen through one of the tavern's windows. It was impossible to tell exactly who or what it was from here. Only, it was getting so boisterous now, that everyone in here was taking notice. Wenzel stood up and looked out of the window. Unfortunately, he couldn't make out what was going on, so he stepped out of the door. Ferenc followed him, while Brahm went to the front to pay. "Ding-a-ling!" A whole cluster of people had gathered. Driven by his curiosity, Wenzel pushed his way through them. There were two men and a young lady here, arguing with a couple of soldiers.

  "That's all you can get! Everything else I need myself to get through the winter! I can't offer you more than I can give. Now get out!" the younger man shouted at the soldier standing opposite him. "I understand your feelings, but the reeve’s instructions were clear and unambiguous. The tithe is to be paid accordingly," replied the gentleman with the sword at his hip in a loud, exasperated tone. "Feelings? Ha! The only feeling we care about is that our stomachs don't ache with hunger!" The crowd, emotionally inflamed, also joined in the discussion: "Leave them alone!" - "The taxes are too high!" - "Get lost!" - "Don't put up with that, Reiner!" More and more people gathered and began to prevent the soldiers, who were on the reeve's orders, from getting through and reaching the man's house to collect the taxes by force. Wenzel had now managed to squeeze through to the very front. He knew how bad off the people here were already. This approach by the soldiers only reinforced his rejection of the regime.

  But then the situation escalated. When the older man, presumably the head of the family, bumped into a soldier, the latter drew his sword and shouted a few warnings in his face. The man was completely unimpressed, whereupon the soldier slashed him on the upper left arm. "Ahh!" he screamed as the first drops of his warm blood dripped onto the cold winter soil. The crowd was startled. On the whole, they backed away, but some of the men clearly got even more riled up by this action. The other soldiers present then drew their swords. Things now seemed to be escalating. While this was going on, Ferenc tried to push his way through to Wenzel to get him back and bring him to safety. But he was too late. The lad didn't want to watch anymore! He approached the soldiers. "What do you think you're doing, boy? Get away!" the armed man shouted at him. But Wenzel stretched out his arm. He knew that he could not challenge or even defeat this crowd of opponents with swordplay alone. Besides, there were far too many people here who were in danger of being injured by the outbreak of violence that was now unavoidable.

  He concentrated for a moment. Then he created a shockwave that threw a handful of soldiers backwards with a powerful thrust, sending them smashing into the wall of the nearest building! It had finally happened! Stunned, everyone around stood there and stared at the boy. The soldiers whom Wenzel had not attacked were also frozen in astonishment. But one of them immediately regained his courage and charged towards the boy with his weapon drawn. He simply flew backwards up onto the roof of the nearest building and levitated a large stone that was placed there as a weight. He then launched it with full force at the challenger, who tried to dodge but was nevertheless caught on the leg. He spun and landed on the ground. Ferenc stood nearby, watching helplessly as Wenzel was blowing his cover. Brahm had also come out of the pub in the meantime and shouted loudly to his mentee to come down. Some people began to shout joyfully, but most didn't know how to react to the realisation that the Chosen One had actually returned.

  The opponents he had thrown away earlier now stood up again and reorganised with the others, but had to retreat from the gathering of locals. A confrontation didn’t seem to have been averted! At that moment, there was a sudden sound. Everyone could hear loud hoofbeats coming from the north-east. Wenzel, standing on the roof, looked over and saw a large number of mounted men galloping through the narrow streets of the village. It was the Martyrs’ Brigades! "The martyrs are here!" Wenzel shouted to his two bodyguards. Then he flew back down to them. Brahm, who was only slightly drunk but still extremely annoyed, rebuked him: "What the hell are you doing here? You know we're here under cover! What the..." He didn't finish his sentence. The crowd began to retreat as the mounted resistance fighters arrived. In the same breath, the soldiers had begun to flee when they heard Wenzel's announcement of the arrival of the Martyrs’ Brigades.

  A bit of chaos ensued. Some of the horsemen took up the pursuit of the fleeing regiment troops, while around the corner August suddenly rode up. He looked down at the three from the saddle with a serious expression. "What on earth are you doing here?" Those addressed would probably have preferred to sink into the ground at that moment.