In the triumphant aftermath of my escape from the lamentable confines of that dreary place, a realization unfolds – a being of my extraordinary essence requires not just goals but grand, sweeping aspirations that befit my singular magnificence. A long-term objective materializes as a necessity, for the realm I find myself in, mired in its barbaric ways, is but a temporary stage for the brilliance that is me. The mundane inquiry arises – how does one, of my unparalleled brilliance, return to their original world? Thememory of the glowing light on the ground, a portal fashioned through some rudimentary magical rite, lingers in my thoughts. A spark of insight ignites – mastering the intricate arts of magic becomes not just a choice but a destiny, a goal to be pursued with regal determination in the expansive tapestry of time that stretches before me.
Now, however, the immediacy of existence calls for a different focus – the acquisition of shelter and sustenance in a world that grovels beneath my sheer magnificence. My cunning escape, executed with an elegance reserved for the extraordinary, yields a reward – a pouch within the pilfered worker's clothes, a mere guise for my grandeur. Inside, two silvers and a humble bronze await, awaiting my command. The triviality of conversion rates, a concern for lesser minds, need not occupy my thoughts; such matters will unravel effortlessly in the wake of my brilliance.
As I strolled through the city, it was evident that the bustling areas near the castle were fit for the upper class – a class I, of course, belong to. The farther I ventured, the less impressive it became, a stark reminder of the mediocrity surrounding me. Lodging in such places is beneath my standards.
Finally reaching the presumed poor part of the city, I found a marketplace – a crude but necessary establishment for someone of my stature. A loaf of bread costing a mere 2 bronze was an acceptable expense.
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As I looked at the prices, somebody happened to bump into me. I, of course, grab onto the person's peculiar-looking cloak so they don't slip away. They struggle and resist, but they're too weak. Checking for my pouch, I don’t find it.
Dragging them into a nearby alley, their futile struggles intensify. Alas, I bash the annoying thieves's face into the alley wall, Taking off the cloak, I find an about 15-year-old boy. Taking back my well-earned pouch and his on top of it, I am now a proud owner of 2 silvers and 2 bronze. Looking over the boy, I find a rusty-looking dagger and nothing else. Oh well. Leaving him to probably starve to death or something, I go off to buy some bread.
As night unfurls its shadowy embrace, I seek refuge in the Rebel Hawks tavern. The olfactory assault of sweat and alcohol, a mere inconvenience to common senses, does little to deter my regal stride. The counter, manned by a lady with an air of boredom, is my next conquest. Inquiring about the cost of a night's stay, her rehearsed recitation only serves to underline the banality of this establishment. "A night is 6 bronze, two nights 10 bronze, and a week a silver," she monotones. With an air of magnanimity, I bestow upon her a silver and request two nights. The return – 15 bronze – a conversion rate of 1 silver to 25 bronze. Armed with a key to room number 16, I retreat to my slightly cold and damp sanctuary, a pitiful attempt at accommodation for one of my grandeur.
Morning light heralds a new day filled with opportunities to assert my dominance. The limitations imposed by my previous profession prove inconsequential, demanding a shift in strategy. Adopting the role of an opportunistic wealth redistributor seems apropos – a person who takes from those unworthy of their possessions. Donning my attire, I step outside, securing another loaf of bread to sate my needs.
The notion of concealing my exceptional identity spurs me to invest an inconsequential sum of 5 bronze in a cloak. Donning this disguise, I wander into a seemingly deserted alley. Patiently, I await a suitable target amidst the passing rabble. A scrawny figure catches my eye, and with casual grace, I pull her into the alley, her frail form succumbing to my superior strength. And a swift, theatrical stab to the throat ensues.