“Whoa!” The nasally sound of a young man drew Zayne’s head away from the corpses, “You did this alone?”
Zayne turned behind, staring at a trio of ashy faces staring at his soaked face. The aftermath of his fight ended with blood everywhere. “Yeah…” He didn’t know the appropriate response in this situation, so he let his instincts choose his words.
The party cast their eyes aside, two… boys? Men? And one girl. They all looked as young as Zayne was, not much older than Agil or Laura if he hazarded a guess. “Sorry, am I intruding?”
“No, no, no…” He repeated, “We ran here when he heard the commotion. We thought someone’s in trouble,” he patted his leather cap, “but, uh… it looks like everything’s fine.”
Covered from head to toe with thick-looking gambison and a pair of dark blue trousers, stained with what Zayne assume to be blood, the young man wielding a massive blade elected to introduce himself. “I’m Gilbert, and these two are my party members, Oswul and Wyne.” He extended his arms behind, revealing two shy individuals wearing similar outfits with their hands behind their backs.
“I’m Zayne.” He responded, the awkwardness palpable in the air. “Nice… meeting you.”
They spared a glance and returned his introductions. Oswul, a quiet kid topped with bowl-cut auburn hair slung a bow behind his back, and the dark-haired girl wielded a staff with a glinting orb on its head; a magician? He thought as he studied their eyes—all of them carried the same violet coloring. Each resembled a typical awkward teenager nearing the end of their juvenile years.
Gilbert smiled. Genuinely. “Ah! We’re wonderi-“
“Gilbert!” Oswul slammed Gilbert’s back with his palm. “Don’t do it!”
Zayne stood up, puzzled. “What’s going on?” Were they in danger? For some reason, watching those three perked his memories of his old friends, “Are you alright?”
“N-Nothing-“ Gilbert wheezed a short laugh, “Nevermind. We’re gonna hunt somewhere over there, don’t be shy to come around if you needed help.” He smiled.
Their awkward interaction ended with a short gale of the afternoon wind. Their appearance made him wonder about being in a party… a thought he had never entertained before… well, before everything. Wishing them all the best, Zayne cupped his satchel, the recent kills gave him four more monster gems and they rang with each step he took.
And so his hunt continued. Kobold packs after Giant Rats, only stopping once the wargs made their presence known. The wargs present here were pastel in color—a slight difference from the wargs he met before—however, difficulty-wise, they were both fairly similar. The wargs always came in a pack of at least five, and their senses far surpassed those of Kobolds and rats. Also, now he stood in a plain expanse, the natural habitat of wargs. No more slight advantage of being in the trees, although he had grown far enough to handle the wargs with confidence. But not their alpha.
Zayne counted his gems as he made his way back to Basin. By that time, the sun had begun to set, casting an orange glow from above, boiling the clouds red. An ear-shattering roar of a horn bellowed, trailing the setting sun. Zayne clicked his tongue, eager to resume his hunt, but rules were rules. Should he be barred from leaving Basin because of an impatient act… he’d be cursing himself to sleep.
He felt a slight chill from the air as he found a solid path to walk on, then his eyes perked when he the same party from before. They appeared exhausted, but their eyes sparked with motivation and will.
“Hey!” Gilbert called, waving his arms, “Glad to see you again!”
Zayne returned his smile. Regardless of their awkward first encounter, none were bad people. “Same here.” He scratched his head, attempting to start a small talk, “How’s the hunt going?”
“We’re doing great!” Gilbert replied, strutting beside him. The two others gazed at the sky with a longing look, passively listening to their conversation, “I think I’m close to reaching level 8, I hope I get a good trait this time. It’s boring to encounter the same common traits all the time. You should hear about Wyne’s rare trait! She’s seriously lucky!”
Wyne’s face ruddied, flushed with excessive blood flow, she waved her hands, “N-No! Don’t say that-“ Her eyes turned to a frown, and she slammed Gilbert’s back with her staff. “Don’t listen to him!” She turned to Zayne, flashing a weak smile.
Gilbert snickered with his back turned to his party. Oswul grinned and held his laughter. Close friends, Zayne mused to himself, wishing he’d be here with his friends too; to witness such a close friendship roused a deep-seated nostalgia hidden inside him, he sighed a long breath, pushing those thoughts away—at least, until he was alone.
“What’s with the long face?” Gilbert asked, “Wait, why are you alone in the first place?”
“I don’t have friends,” Zayne replied with a smile, “Are you three here for the license test?” He asked, turning behind to the others. They avoided his gaze in embarrassment.
“’ Fraid so,” Gilbert replied, for once losing his ever-present smile, “But none of us felt ready. I mean, we’re fresh out of the academy, and our real-life experience is-”
“Non-existent.” Wyne interrupted with a sullen smile. “We’re the children of a small noble family. I hate to admit that we’re somewhat spoiled since birth, but we are, and it takes a while to get used to how things worked outside the comfort of our homes.” She shrugged, then shot an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Nobles? Zayne’s brows raised in shock. They lacked the usual haughty demeanor one would expect from rich, entitled children, like how Kate often described them. “I don’t think what you’re feeling is anything too worrisome. I felt as alienated as anyone else too. You’ll get used to it, and once you do, you’d be just fine.”
The talk of nobles and their past broke the ice dividing their conscious thoughts. Zayne learned that they were nobles of a small town near Basin; a tranquil little town called Bayton, popular for their production of Red grapes. Also, they were friends as much as they were siblings. Had Zayne been observant, he’d known that much from their similar eye colors. None of them spoke about what family they were from, insisting to keep it a secret. Nobles came with a sky-high privilege of carrying a last name, a word these siblings dared not tell for reasons. Zayne learned enough to keep his curiosity by his chest, so, he didn’t prod further.
Night painted the sky with its usual darkness. Stars of different colors glimmered, peppering darkness with scintillating lights. Humid cold brushed the carved path on the way to Basin when they saw the lights of the city beaconed the wilderness like a lighthouse. “What about you, Zayne?” Gilbert finally asked, “You never told us about where you came from.”
Zayne kept his eyes on the floor. “Well…” No point in keeping that a secret, “I’m from Burg.”
Their eyes popped. Violet irises widened as they each held a gasp with their hands, “Wait, that Burg?” Oswul asked after a period of complete silence.
Zayne shrugged. “One of the few survivors, apparently. I don’t know if I’m lucky or cursed, but either way, I’m here.” He saw no need for lies, especially lies that could be dispelled with a few questions.
The three siblings shared a glance, “Sorry, I didn’t know…” Oswul said. The mood anchored their shoulders, pinning them to the hard ground. Pity? Zayne didn’t want to pity him; pity wouldn’t bring anyone back, nor would it change the past…
“Don’t do that,” Zayne replied, flashing a grim smile. “I don’t want to make things weird between us.” He paused, opting to tell them how he felt, “I said what I said because I wanted to be truthful with you.” Well, as honest as he could be, at least. “So, don’t feel bad about it.” Those words flew by somehow, perhaps he was rather frustrated that his past turned into a taboo topic; an idea he sorely despised.
They sighed in relief. Wyne kept a steady pace, glancing every once in a while, then pushed herself to ask more; “What’s Burg like?”
“Peaceful and quiet. And it had the best people I ever knew.” Zayne answered, recalling the sights and the smells; the scent of flowers and trees, the fragrance of stale meat and produce in the marketplace during his errands, the stuffiness of the training gym… Strangely, Zayne felt no urge to cry. He fawned upon those memories; recollections of all the things that made Zayne, Zayne. He’d wept enough. He’d regretted enough. Now, only the future awaited.
“Well, I can go on about it for days, but to keep it short, I’ll say that I missed it. Dearly.” A shrug later, the ambiance of the warm lights emanating from the gate soothed them as they approached. “Where do you guys live?”
“The sparrow inn,” Gilbert said as he flashed his pass. The gates opened, revealing the warm air swooping past their tousled hair, and the sight of happy lights and people wandering about within, minding their own business.
They exchanged goodbyes as they went about their separate ways. Zayne wanted to cash in his monster gems, eager to find out how much he’d made—hopefully, a meal wouldn’t be too expensive, or else he had to survive on cheap bread alone for the next few weeks. The adventurer hall was sparser than how he’d remembered it when he came and nighttime allowed some fresh air to linger as he paced his way to an open counter. The same woman guiding him this afternoon waved a warm hello as he reached out to his satchel, “I heard I can exchange monster gems here,” he asked as he grasped the pile of gems, “Is this the right place?”
“Sure!” She said, almost sounding too excited. “Please come with me.”
###
Zayne sat in a small, modest room accessible behind her counter. A desk with two seats was placed, housing a device he’d never thought of seeing, but here it was.
A gem appraisal tool hummed with a gentle wave of energy, almost fully black, shaped like a giant bowl held by a wooden plinth. A line she called a cable ran from a small hole pierced on the side, extending far enough to reach the walls, and then to somewhere else he couldn’t follow. “Please place the gems here,” she said, her sleek forehead glinted under the light, coated with hours of sweat.
Zayne complied. At first, he debated putting all in but eventually decided to spare half as fodder for a level-up. He could survive with a silver a day, knowing he had accommodations settled.
Her eyes gasped, “That many? I didn’t- aren’t you new?” She asked, organizing the gems tidily on the bowl surface, “They looked high-quality too, almost perfect. Look at this… Kobold and Rat gems… nice.” Zayne followed her fingers, brushing the jagged surface of the gems, “Their sizes are almost uniform, and the color, while still cloudy, you can see through it quite well.” She held one up, scrutinizing it under the bulb of light, “Wow… impressive. Either you are extremely lucky, or you may have a knack for extracting monster gems; is it a trait? I’ve heard a few adventurers specializing in extracting gems, but they are so rare I’ve never seen them in Basin.”
Zayne eyed her speech in quiet contemplation. “I’m just lucky.” He struggled to come up with clever reasoning, worried about the spotlight he might get if the others knew, “Can I trust you to keep this a secret?” He said, almost whispering. The image of the gem given by the unknown man flashed, his was transparent down to the core. He wondered if he could reach his level someday, pure gems sold extremely well.
The woman winked, “Of course!”
As she predicted, each white gem he offered held the value of about 15 to 20 coppers; a high price for mere white gems. “In total, the hall will reward you with 189 coppers, please wait for a second,” Her chair squealed as she pranced outside, palming his gems in her hands.
Zayne sighed and felt around his satchel. The clamors of gems crackled as he played with them. With the relative value of those gems in mind, the decision came easier to him. Fifty-fifty, He thought while staring at his dilapidated weapons; enough to survive and save for good equipment and emergencies, while maintaining a solid growth for the next five days.
A few minutes later, the woman returned, holding a green coin pouch in her hands. “I’ve exchanged your gems, and here,” She rested the jingling pouch on the table, “The result of your hard work. The pouch is given for free, compliments from the adventurer’s hall.”
Zayne picked it up. The smooth, almost velvety texture felt warm under his touch, “Thanks…” He turned his head up, “Before I leave… Is there a good cheap spot for food around here?”
“The adventurer’s hall canteen is a good place,” She answered as Zayne headed for the exit, “You’ll find it if you headed left, across the noticeboard, you won’t miss it. For 10 coppers, you’ll get a decent meal, hardly the best food you’ll ever consume, but it’s good enough for that price. Oh, and also, my name is Pherey. If you need any assistance in the future, you’re free to ask me anything.”
10 coppers… Not too bad. “Thank you so much, Pherey.”
The noticeboard outside was as busy as always. Zayne noted a few strong-looking individuals as he walked past them, appearing to be in a deep discussion about a particular piece of paper pinned dead center on the wooden board. Curiosity drove him to approach. Dredging through the dense crowd, Zayne was bombarded with the scent and smells of sweaty bodies before his eyes made out the details of the paper.
The death wraiths… So, the kingdom had finally enlisted help? He kept reading, and a passage stirred his heart to a pause.
It said one of the kingdom’s parties went missing. His mind jumped to Hubert, the captain he found before he returned to Basin. The sea of the crowd drowned him as he receded into the background, leaving once he gathered his thoughts. Murmurs of the death wraiths quarreled the hall as he waddled his way to the left, entering a corridor plastered with white and green. Bulbs of light and running cables lit the corridor unnaturally, and he stopped once he found the entrance to a giant hall filled with rows and rows of long tables, not too dissimilar to the tables in Kate’s inn, and near the walls of each side, counters displaying a variety of food ran by red-colored outfits almost mirroring the woman in the hall. The same green and white were painted on the canteen’s walls, but the smoke from food and soot stained the whites with the color of old pastel, and the corners had darkened from the particles of food accumulated over the years. Better than I expected, Zayne concluded with glee in his steps.
A rumble roiled his stomach, the smell of food had awoken something he remembered vividly. He sighed, pushed the thoughts of the death wraiths for later, and stepped inside.