About the book: 2013 / I sat alone at a corner table and sucked beer from a big fat mug. The beer turned out to be sour, so I strained it slowly and hoped that it would last a long time. A second mug of this drink would have been too much for me, but I wasn’t used to sitting at an empty table. The lousy beer superimposed on the lousy mood and, unbeknownst to myself, I began to daydream, remembering the recent past. The oak tables drenched in beer disappeared behind the clearly visible tables of a small coffee shop, covered with clean multi-colored tablecloths. The owner of the coffee shop was an eccentric and original, but it was the best place in the city - and we all gravitated there in the evenings. During the day we were different - a guard officer, a court favorite, a jester or an executioner. But as soon as the sun went beyond the city wall, we became one - Men with Swords. No, of course, both the fat shopkeeper and the skinny apprentice, when leaving the house, will not forget to attach some kind of piece of iron to their side. But we were Men! And we knew why the Man needed a Sword. After all, it is so simple - not to kill and not to forgive just like that, but how difficult it is to stay on this narrow bridge between the weakness of the cruel and the weakness of the weak-willed. How hard it is to be strong.