(Translation - FUCKTOR; author - YummyTiger; original title - A Hunter's Con)

The sprawling city of Beynok spread out in front of John like a cancerous tumor, slowly devouring the countryside. Hunter's scornful glance fell on a crowded road disappearing into the city. He was not one of them. It was an obvious fact for anyone who would pay attention to him now. John stood to the side with a tuft of claws hanging from his belt and a dagger conveniently located on his thigh. His home was a forest, and he could well do without visits to the city. But unfortunately, the city meant trade, and trade meant alchemists and healers, with whom he could sell his goods. Therefore, John sighed and plunged into a sea of ​​human bodies.

Fortunately, the destination for his raid was not far away. The healer, with whom he often dealt, owned a little shop about a fifteen minute walk from the main gate of the city. His name was Harold, and John had been selling herbs to him for more than fifteen years. He knew that his herbs could be sold at a higher price closer to the center, but Harold always dealt with him honestly.

John felt relieved when he finally got off the main road and turned into an alley leading to Harold’s shop. He took only a few steps, when a piercing female cry was heard behind him. John turned to the source of the sound, seeing a carriage rushing at him.

“Get out of the way, farmer!” The coachman shouted, drowning out a frightened female cry.

Reflexes, born years of life in the woods, saved John from the fate prepared for him, and he managed to jump aside. Landing had nothing to do with grace, and John, having lost his balance, landed in a patch of dirt at the curb. First, the face plunged into the mud, and then an unpleasant smell hit his nostrils. Small trenches that were formed in the mud from passing carts and carts were often used as pits to drain waste from nearby shops and houses. John angrily spat something out of his mouth, praying to God that it was dirt, and jumped to his feet. The crew had already passed, but John managed to make out the noblewoman in the back seat. Strands of long and light hair fell on her back, and a brilliant green dress betrayed her rich man.

"Bloody nobles and their bloody carts!" - John swore in the direction of the receding vehicle. They believe that they own and the road, and all that is on it!

John appreciated his damage: apart from his vanity, nothing really suffered. Herbs in the bag are slightly soiled, but in any case they will have to be washed. He again went on the road and rushed to the house doctor. The expression on John's face was such that hardly anyone would dare stand in his way. The faster he sells the goods, the sooner he can leave this city left by God.

Reaching the store, he turned the nearest corner, and headed for the back entrance. It is doubtful that Harold will like it if he passes through such mud into the front entrance. The wooden door rumbled when John angrily banged on her. She opened her mouth, and after a moment, Harold's wrinkled face appeared.

“You want to break the door for me, man,” said the doctor in a moral tone. His gaze swept over John's dirty clothes. "What happened to you?"

"Bloody nobles."

Harold nodded in understanding: "Well, come in and clean yourself up."

Inside, on one of the walls of the room, herbs of various sizes and shapes hung from a rope, and on the stove in the far corner was a pot from which came a smell resembling braised cabbage. The rest of the wall was occupied by a shelf overflowed with small bubbles and bottles. These were Harold's potions and his main source of income. A small label was attached to each bottle, and John knew many of the names on them. Potions were an invaluable resource for the hunter.

“Here, take this,” said Harold, diverting John’s attention from the decoration of the room. He extended a brown robe that resembled his own robe. “I'm not sure what will do, but you can hide behind this until your clothes are dry.” Harold then pointed to a tub of water near a dilapidated table in the center of the room. "You can use her, I just washed my socks there."

“Thank you,” John replied, not really hiding the sarcasm, and he looked suspiciously at the tub, and then at the yellowish socks spread out on the edge of the table.

Harold willingly took John's bag of herbs and went with her to the nearest counter, while John was washing his dirt-soaked clothes. The brown robe rubbed against his skin, and John constantly wanted to itch. You might think the store owner cannot offer better clothes ... well, at least she is clean. John sat down on the chair next to the tub, wetting the jacket in it.

“Wow! You found Shamrock! ”Exclaimed Harold, while John vigorously wiped the dirt from his soiled clothes.

Trefoil flowers were extremely rare in these places, and it was this find in the nearby forest that was the main reason for the hunter's visit. The flower was worth a lot of money, for which he will live for several months.

"I need to take him to the castle immediately."

“Uh-huh,” answered John, examining his clothes in the wash.

"Lord Braxtone himself needs a shamrock potion," said Harold with excitement, starting to collect the things he needed throughout the room. John would never have believed the old man could move so fast. "Can you look after the store?"

“Uh-huh,” answered John a second time.

“Shop, boy,” said Harold, stopping for a moment, and looking at John like a fool: “I need to deliver the Shamrock potion. I wonder how you can be so scattered? "

John ignored the mockery: “I will look after the store. In any case, I will have to wait for the clothes to dry. ”

Harold folded the medicine into a small backpack. “Okay, I'll be back in a couple of hours. If someone comes in, just tell them to come in tomorrow, ”he said, going out the back door.

John shook his head; Harold was certainly a strange old man. Of course, he lives in the city, which, according to John, could drive anyone crazy. John shrugged and went back to the wash. Damn dirt is harder to wash than beer.

The shirt was almost the original color when John heard the bell ring in the front doors of the store. John hung up a jacket on the edge of the tub and went to the front room of the store. He took only one step, entered the store, and froze in place. A man and a woman stood in the doorway. The woman had long, blond hair, and she was wearing a brilliant green dress that remarkably emphasized her charms. The man was dressed in a lightly dusty rich blue camisole, which apparently belonged to the driver of the wagon. John recognized them immediately. “And what bloody circumstances brought you here?” He thought.

"The doctor, the lady feels bad," said the man, entering the room, "We have already visited the three nearest stores, which were faced with ignorant pigs."

John looked from the man to the woman in confusion, then looked at his robe. He was wearing an apothecary robe! They thought he was Harold! “Oh, these bloody circumstances are becoming more and more interesting,” he thought.

“So what’s the problem, so to speak?” John asked the noblewoman, deciding to play with them.

Instead of addressing him directly, the woman turned to the driver, “Tell him that my stomach hurts!”

You must be joking, John thought. Cursed, arrogant nobles; she thinks too high of herself to even talk to a commoner.

“The lady has an upset stomach,” the driver told him, as if John had just not heard her. What a bloody farce!

"I just have the potion you need, it's in the back room."

John had to make this woman pay for arrogance, and while he was going to the back room, his brain went through the possible options ...