The harmony of the meeting

The next day arrived with clear weather, interrupted by a gentle breeze that occasionally rustled the leaves. Gurzhik had breakfast and, bidding farewell to his parents, reluctantly made his way to the tavern. Each step was a struggle, as if he were climbing a steep mountain. The anxiety, starting from the pit of his stomach, intensified, and his thoughts became foggy and depressive. Seeing the outline of the main entrance, he began to slow his pace. "Well, this time I won't disappoint you, Father," Gurzhik thought, reaching the door. Taking a deep breath, he sharply pulled the handle and, stepping inside, was immediately greeted by Edgar: "Good morning, Shadowmour! Come in." Stepping inside, the youth saw the beginning of the tavern's opening: it was quiet, no one else was plucking at a lute, and the beer mugs waited patiently on the bar counter. And it's no wonder, few people visit a tavern in the morning.

"Please," Edgar said, gesturing towards the exit on the other side of the tavern, "I want you to meet someone." Gurzhik nodded approvingly and followed him. Passing through the wooden door, they found themselves on the street, where work was bustling: porters, dressed in brown robes, were steadily unloading goods onto the ground, while accountants swiftly scribbled with quills on parchment, noting the incoming goods. Watching the scene, Gurzhik thought, "Am I really going to be doing such simple work?"

But suddenly, as if out of the blue, a young man in a brown robe leisurely approached them. He was not tall, but his presence exuded a subtle tremor and distrust. His rat-gray eyes darted from side to side, and his short white hair peacefully rested on his head as he elegantly walked towards the youth with a scarf. Reaching Edgar and Gurzhik, he bowed slightly and politely greeted them: "Good morning. Mister Edgar, and..."

"Gurzhik," the youth extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

The boy in the brown robe reluctantly shook hands, adding timidly at the end, "Mansur. Pleasure."

Tension filled the air, and something needed to be done. Responding to imaginary cries for help, Edgar interjected, "You two will work together. Mansur will tell you how things are done here. He'll be in charge, so he'll be responsible for all your mess-ups," he said coldly, lighting his pipe. Edgar leaned in towards Gurzhik and whispered, "I won't give you any words of encouragement, but good luck, kid." Suddenly, Edgar turned to Mansur and asked, "I hope this isn't a problem for you, Mansur?"

The young man silently nodded. With a shake of his pipe, Edgar headed towards the exit. An awkward silence hung over them. Each of them seemed to lose control of their bodies, while their minds still worked. And it seemed to last an eternity... Eventually, someone had to break the moment. And it was Mansur: "Alright. Let's go. Follow me." Gurzhik, swallowing, followed Mansur.

Mansur was more of a practitioner. Teaching someone wasn't his forte. But for his boss, he was willing to do anything. Arriving at the loading area, he addressed Gurzhik: "Here's the first thing we need to do - unload these two barrels of beer and place them on the shelf over there, in the corner."

Gurzhik silently set to work. He understood that it was better to just do what he was told, and there would be no problems. Though Gurzhik didn't show it, carrying the barrels was almost as difficult as carrying himself, but the burden that fell on him was much heavier, many times heavier... Mansur silently watched his work, realizing that anyone could handle it. His eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly lowered his head, drifting into his world of fantasies.

"I'm finished, sir," Gurzhik interrupted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Mr. Mansur?" the youth asked again, bringing Mansur back to the gray reality.

"Hmm? You're finished," Mansur said firmly. "Well, you completed the task, but you did it without form," the boy in the brown robe noted.

"Where can I get it?" Gurzhik politely inquired.

"I'll bring it now. Don't go anywhere," Mansur said, giving him a cold look.

Gurzhik stood silently, waiting for the uniform, lost in his thoughts: "Hmm... I hope the work ahead will be just as easy. And hopefully, this Mansur won't give me too hard of a time."

Mansur brought a new robe and handed it to Gurzhik, saying, "Be careful not to lose it." Gurzhik nodded, swallowing, coldly acknowledging it as if he had heard it a hundred times before.

"Alright. Now take this bag of grain and place it next to those barrels," Mansur instructed, pointing to the barrels of beer that had been languishing in the shade all day.

"Alright," the youth with the scarf replied, putting on the robe.

"And also - check the wine supplies. Make sure there are enough bottles and they're all intact."

Gurzhik didn't respond. The day passed like this: Gurzhik simply followed Mansur's orders while Mansur observed his work, assessing the youth's capabilities.

"Last one," Gurzhik said with satisfaction, placing a heavy wooden barrel into the cart. "You can go," he then shouted to the coachman, who adjusted his hat and set off in an unknown direction.

"Well, I must admit, you handled your work quite well," Mansur said with a smirk, standing nearby.

"Thank you," Gurzhik replied. "I hope we can work well together."

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Shadowmour," Mansur said with a stone-faced expression.

"Gurzhik, call me Gurzhik," Gurzhik replied timidly, looking at the floor.

"Alright, Gurzhik," Mansur turned for a moment.

"Thank you, Mansur," Gurzhik expressed his gratitude.

"See you tomorrow," Mansur said.

"Until tomorrow," Gurzhik replied timidly, with a hint of sadness, watching Mansur's retreating figure.

The next day passed according to the same scenario as the previous one - Gurzhik carried goods while Mansur reluctantly observed his work. Thus, the week went by. The tension between the young men slowly diminished: they found more similarities and interests in each other, which provided grounds for frequent conversations. The young men often sat in the tavern to chat over a pint of beer.

At the end of the week, Edgar came to check on the boys. He found them chatting during lunch break.

"Well, hello, boys. How was the week? Any troubles?" Edgar inquired with a smirk. The young men turned sharply at his voice and greeted Edgar with a nod, though they didn't expect his early visit.

"Everything went well, Mr. Edgar. Gurzhik bravely performed his duties, despite any obstacles," Mansur began.

"Good," Edgar muttered in a low voice, lighting his pipe. "Then I won't distract you." Satisfied that everything was in order with the boys, he headed into the tavern. The boys silently watched him go, as they were busy unloading goods.

"Load up these wines and that's it for today," Mansur shouted, watching Gurzhik place bottles of expensive and elite wine into the cart.

"Well... and the week has passed..." Gurzhik thought heavily as he walked towards Mansur, who was waiting for him at the tavern entrance.

"Next week, we'll start taking orders for deliveries around the city, Gurzhik. I'm sure you'll like it," Mansur casually mentioned, looking at the approaching youth.

"Uh-huh. I don't doubt it..." Gurzhik muttered mysteriously.

"Well, shall we go have a drink?" Mansur asked.

Gurzhik nodded with a smile, and they headed into the tavern.