All the attention of the visitors was riveted to one boy who sat on the stool with his legs dangling, and his sword lay on his knees; a little later, he again pointed to his open mouth with his left hand, while his right held the sword's hilt.
Ben instantly snapped out of his stupor and, glancing at those around who silently could not tear their gaze from the boy—they were not bothered by his smell, not by his appearance; they were bothered by this bag—looking at the boy, the first impression was that he was a simple homeless kid who had lost everything in the last migration, but this bag turned their opinion upside down. Many had already decided something for themselves but did not dare to say anything.
Ben took only three from the bag and threw them into a bucket with a lid, where from time to time such monster ears flew. The man thought to put them on a plate of food, but looking again at the boy's external condition, he realized that this would not be enough, so he simply took a spoon and put it on the pan, and after this pan, inside which stew remained for several more portions, and extended the pan to the boy.
The boy looked a bit at the amount of food; his facial features did not change; he remained calm before the strangers' gazes. Taking the spoon in his right hand, momentarily switching hands to support the sword, he carefully examined the spoon consisting of an aluminum alloy and some other alloys. Having examined the spoon, the boy put it on the bar counter, and after a couple of moments of silence, he slowly turned his stool toward the hall. The hall, already holding its breath, became even quieter; it seemed nature itself was silent, awaiting the boy's actions; the youth's gaze did not change, remaining just as lifeless; he surveyed each person present in the hall from ordinary guards to some privileged people.
Seeing nothing unusual, he turned back and, taking the spoon in his hands, tried the stew. Ben froze in anticipation, in anticipation of the boy's actions; what he certainly did not expect was how quickly he switched from his cold unhurriedness to wild instinct; the boy shoveled more food into his mouth than he could swallow.
Seeing this, Ben quickly poured water into a mug and extended it toward the boy; only removing his hand, the youth grabbed the mug and drank the cool liquid in one gulp. The boy's greed knew no bounds.
Ben did not know what to say; this was the first time for him; looking at the guard captain and seeing his reciprocal gaze, the guard captain quickly gestured orders to the two guards accompanying him, and these two instantly rushed to the exit.
The boy paid no attention to this, continuing to enjoy the food.
"Hey, kid, what happened to you?" asked Hol, not hiding his interest.
The boy had almost emptied the pan of stew and, tasting the last spoonful, turned his head toward Hol; his gaze was still empty, but after this small meal, it seemed a bit more alive. Glancing at Hol, the boy shifted his gaze to the bag with monster parts stored inside. This question was inappropriate; Hol realized this immediately, but after waiting a moment, he asked another question:
"Did you kill all these monsters?" Hol's face tried to remain impassive.
The boy nodded after a while.
After his nod, whispers spread through the hall:
"This child couldn't have killed these monsters; look at him, there's no meat on him."
"Yes, he could; you saw his gaze; it gives me goosebumps."
The whispering continued for some time, and just as Hol wanted to ask a new question, a man sitting in the hall jumped up and with a threatening smirk stomped toward the bar counter.
"Such big game for one kid is too much; share with others, treat us, so to speak, for your successful trip"—the drunken smirk was filled with malice and envy.
Ben shifted his gaze from the boy to the drunk and said in a rough voice,
"Leave him alone!"
"I'm not touching him; I'm a perfectly good-natured person; let this runt share his good with me, and then I'll do good too; I won't touch him."
Ben did not want to interfere, but with peripheral vision, he saw a small change in the boy; the boy put the spoon back on the pan, and his hand on the sword's hilt.
The guard captain did not react in any way; the charter forbade him from interfering in people's disputes; he could start acting in case of a threat to a person's life, so he simply waited for that moment. However, he did not have to wait long.
The man, approaching the boy point-blank, was about to put his right hand on the boy's shoulder. But before he could say a word, the sword's tip plunged into the base of the man's shoulder. Everything happened instantly; the drunk man lay on his back, and the boy sat on him, pushing the sword's edge deeper into the shoulder. In the inn, nothing was heard except the desperate cry.
"Hey, kid, leave this drunk alone." A gloomy but slightly drunk voice sounded inside the establishment. The guard captain bared his blade and aimed it. The voice was full of seriousness and weight.
Hearing this, the boy sharply withdrew the sword from the man's shoulder and with the sword's hilt forcefully struck the solar plexus, depriving him of breath.
Standing on his feet and looking at the guard captain, the boy directed his left hand toward the man and pointed with his index finger at his wound.
"Take him to the healer quickly; we don't need casualties." The gaze and direction of the sword were still aimed at the child, who lowered his sword and headed toward the bar counter.
Meeting Ben's gaze, the boy demonstratively yawned, hinting that he wanted to sleep. Ben, trying to maintain composure, replied.
"If you want to rent a room, it's on the second floor in the far room; it will be yours for this night; we'll talk about payment tomorrow." Ben's face remained gloomy and pale.
Folding the bag with monster parts back into the backpack, the boy went toward the stairs, dragging the sword behind him; soon the clank of the sword on wood was heard, and then on the second floor, it was heard how he dragged the sword behind him, and then it became quiet.