Written in The Stars

The second scroll: Lydia

For the journey, the only girl was given the best of everything – Nestor's sturdy bow and a quiver with twenty arrows, an iron dagger, a large healing potion and several gold coins for a couple of flophouses.

Lydia spent about three days on the road. During this time, she did not encounter any obstacles, except for a wolf near the city, which the girl easily dealt with. The lyre arrived at nightfall and immediately headed to the tavern. Sighing sullenly, she sat down on a bench at the counter and asked for water.

"What, a hard day?" The innkeeper asked with a grin.

All the orcs were very athletic, with grey skin and beautiful dark green patterns all over their bodies. They were slightly larger than lyres, and as tall as elves. This one had long hair pulled up.

The girl nodded reluctantly. Her gaze was attracted by a morph cat sitting a couple of meters away from her at a separate table - gray fur with black flecks, a magical robe with a hood and a displeased expression on his face. He was drinking ale.

"Take it, beauty," the orc put a glass in front of her.

"Thank you," Lydia smiled slightly. "Do you have a spare room for tonight?"

"Yes, upstairs," the owner put his hands on the counter. "I'll only charge you one coin."

The girl was flattered, but not too surprised – Nestor had accustomed her to compliments, often talking about how beautiful she was. At the same time, an unpleasant sound echoed throughout the tavern – it turned out that the same morph loudly hit the mug on the table. He seemed annoyed.

"I'll stay for a few nights," she said, cupping the glass in her hands. "Do you happen to know where the school of witchcraft is located?"

Before the orc could reply, Lydia heard a voice behind her. He was pleasant – one might even say purring. But at the same time distant and strict, as if mocking:

"The school of witchcraft?"

Lyre turned around – the morph did not move or even twitch. He continued to drink slowly from his cup. She didn't like his arrogance.

"My name is Lydia," the girl hastened to introduce herself, "and I want to study..."

"Lydia of Lydia?" a joyful expression finally appeared on the muzzle - the cat grinned. "Parents must be some buffoons"

She opened her mouth at such insolence:

"My parents are dead"

"Like the parents of many others," he said in such a tone, as if the girl expected sympathy for her confession, and he had no desire to give it.

"And what is your name?"

"Jhaar"

"Jhaar, so you know where the school of witchcraft is located?"

"Well," morph got up from the table and slowly walked to the counter, "Lydia of Lydia. Yes, Jhaar knows where it is"

"Then could you tell me?" Lyre looked at her interlocutor expectantly.

"Jhaar has been practicing magic for many years and can assure the girl that she will not be given the necessary knowledge in this school"

"Thanks for the warning, but I'll try anyway," smiling tightly, the girl turned back to the tavern owner, who had been silently wiping glasses all this time.

"If Lydia really wants to master the magical arts, then she needs grimoires"

This information interested the girl very much, and she turned her attention back to the morph: