The old village nestled deep in the heart of Avon. Felix arrived there, en route to Dijon to visit his old friend. Here, in the village, he sought a woman who could nurse with her breast milk. Entering a tavern, he glanced at the dozens of inhabitants; their looks were cold but filled with curiosity.

"Hello, a bottle of wine, please," Felix extended three bronze coins, knowing that republican wine cost as much in other places.

"Not enough!" the bartender responded sternly.

Felix's green eyes, with a hint of hazel, instantly turned firm.

"Are you sure?" he questioned.

The bartender flinched. He didn't know who stood before him, but those green eyes were well-known attributes of the Citadel, causing one to contemplate their subsequent words and actions.

"Here you go," he handed over the bottle for free, and other patrons began to exchange uneasy glances and whispers.

"Are there wet nurses in the village?" Felix inquired.

"Yes, to the south, near the second well. Marlena recently gave birth. She's a young girl, and her milk will be just right," he glanced at Bernard.

The bartender spoke politely, but his tone clearly implied that it was time for Felix and Bernard to leave. Felix remained silent, playing his part.