10

The wizard's feet led him to the threshold of the Sleeping Giant tavern. In his youth, he used to come here with fellow members of the Dar to taste simple human pleasures like beer, obscene language and fights. A faded wooden plaque with a pot-bellied giant painted on it, sleeping under a rickety spruce, still swayed on a metal rod above the door. Mildon Fazard hadn't been around to update it since Tobius was still an apprentice.

Inside, almost nothing had changed, everything was familiar, and even the smells remained the same, as if from a past life. The owner did not recognize him immediately, only after a few words.

- Don't recognize you! he exclaimed, waving his hands.

- Is it? It seems that the beard has not grown, and the mustache too.

- Well ... you know, good charm, the guy left here, and the man returned! You seem to have become wider in the shoulders, and taller ...

“Well, well, don’t exaggerate, Mr. Fazard.

"How long have you been gone, char?"

“About two or three years, I t
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