The process of translating the book has already started. Below, you can see an attached draft taken from the first pages of the book.

1.

Arsik exited the inn and slammed the door behind him. He trudged angrily through the mud, turned to the door again and spat on the ground. The rain fell on his copper hair and drenched his tunic, making it feel like a sponge soaked in sweat and rum.

A moment later, the door opened again and Talos appeared. He glanced up at the rain and then peered into Arsik’s eyes. His movements slowed as he recognized the anger overwhelming his friend.

“Easy, Arsik…” he cautioned and, gently, closed the door behind him.

Arsik snorted and swallowed a curse.

“He stole from me, that fuckhead, right in front of me! Can you believe it?” he spat on the ground once more.

The timeworn wooden sign with the inn’s name – “21 Gulls” - hung over their heads, unmoving, the once clear letters now faded and hard to read.

Talos moved slowly towards him. He reached out his hand, the way one does when approaching a dog with the proclivity to bite.

“Of course I believe it, Arsik. He’s a crook. They all are. We all are. What did you expect?”

Arsik shot him a sharp look and grumbled half a word. He lifted his tongue to the roof of his mouth and then explored with it the nearly empty cavity from one end to the other until he stumbled upon a tooth.

“Shit”, he lisped.

Talos shoved his hands in his pants’ pockets. His hat protected him from the summer rain, but his mind still oscillated between the inn and Arsik.

“Why would you play dice with Phaelo, Arsik? He belongs to Golderim Veyre’s crew. These people never lose”, he said, lowering the tone of his voice, trying to appease Arsik’s anger.

“Obviously they’re thieves, Talos. So are we. I mean… There shouldn’t be such shit between us… You understand?”

“Not really”, Talos answered in all honesty.

Arsik strode quickly to him and leaned over his head. His breath testified to the amount of rum that’d been consumed that evening – a busy evening that had just taken a very unpleasant turn.

“We’re not foreigners, or tourists, or fucking sailors. We have a reputation”.

Talos raised his brows. “A reputation? For the love of the gods, what kind of reputation, Arsik?”

“The kind that should be enough to stop them from playing us like this, like common tourists that set foot on the Deck for the first time in their lives. Motherfuckers.” Arsik spat again and pressed his temples with his fingertips. The anger felt like a small triangle between his eyes and over his nose. It was getting closer and he knew it.

“How much did you lose?” Talos asked. From the expression on his face, deep down he already knew the answer.

“Everything… But I’ll get it back”.

Talos removed his hands from his pockets in one jerky movement. “Are you mad? How in the world are you going to get it back?”

Arsik held up one hand to stop him, while the other kept massaging his temples. “Go home, Talos, and wait for me there.”

“No. What are you going to do?”

Arsik ceased soothing his forehead. With his yellow eyes half-shut and tired, he whirled around to look at his scared friend. The drinks he’d had, allowed only half his words to escape his mouth, and even those were hard to utter through few teeth and rotting gums.

“Go away, Talos. Stop badgering me. We’ll talk later.”

His voice now was calm and quiet. Talos swallowed around a dry throat and kept looking at him, puzzled.

“You don’t even have your knife, Arsik. It’s back in-”

“I don’t need a knife for the likes of Phaelo, Talos. Get out of here and let me be.”

Talos continued staring at him for a while longer before he gave up. He took a step towards the inn and was wrapped in the shroud of rain.

“Your rope, your neck, Arsik,” he said. “But remember: if you find yourself at daggers drawn with these people, nobody can save you, not even the Judge.”

After a few more steps, his figure was lost in the city’s maze of alleys.

Arsik remained still for a while, staring at the ground. The raindrops cascaded from the roof’s wooden beams and formed little puddles in the mud in front of him. His eyes lingered on them as he contemplated his choices. Abruptly, he raised his eyes forward.

“Fuck it,” he said and took the road behind the inn.