When he finished his stew, he followed Montgomery in his nighttime routine. He stacked his bowl with the others near the cooking pot, which Lydia would later take to a well near the shanty town. While everyone was eating, she had brought two buckets of water and some rags for the miners to clean up. The water was cold, but staying close to the fire helped. He then hung his rags to dry on a rope they had placed above the fireplace where the food was prepared. What he didn’t do, however, was to get undressed. The other miners had no qualms about cleaning and drying their undergarments on that rope. It was their daily routine after all, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of exposing himself like they did made him blush. I can’t do it. I don’t care if it’s full of mud! I won’t do it!
The miners stoked the fire a little so it wouldn’t extinguish for the next couple of hours and retired to their tents. As he stood in front of Cadmun’s tent, he took a quick look around. When he was absolutely sure that no one was watching, he quickly jumped out of his undergarments and into the tent. He placed the fabric of the entrance in such a way that no one could see inside and then lay down on the sheet on the ground. His aching muscles finally relaxed. What a day!
Even though he was completely exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts on the mansion, the Baron, and the Blitz family. What background do they have? What happened on this estate? How come they are nobles but treated like slaves by the Adventurers?
He didn’t understand who, or better, what the Adventurers were and why they were so malevolent. What’s with that supernatural power? And what’s with their reaction after the slap?
He tumbled around the tent a bit in the hopes of finding a comfortable sleeping position, but with just a sheet of cloth between him and the hard ground, there was nothing he could really do. A pillow would be nice. That’s right! A pillow! Why do I know what a pillow is? There’s so much I know by instinct, but why can’t I remember anything from yesterday?
He turned on his back. He could see a small ray of light dancing on the ceiling that came through a slit in the tent’s entrance. He thought back to the big gate in the middle of the darkness. What was this place? Where was I before that? And where am I now?
image [https://i.imgur.com/LZNQqen.jpg]He started thinking to himself that maybe this was all just a bad dream and he would wake up somewhere else. But where would that be?
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The thought of it sounded nice. His body was pulsating from all the hard work and fights he had gotten into. Another day like that without being able to rest beforehand sounded like hell. But if I were to wake up somewhere else, what would happen to the others here? What about PP, Montgomery, and Lydia? They are just caught up in some noble’s squabble. And Varyan is a good guy too. If he were the Baron on this manor, things would definitely be different! There’s no need for slavery and servitude and hierarchy when the Baron himself gets the firewood in the morning. And if he were to get on a high horse like his brother, then Cadmun and I would knock some sense into him.
He chuckled at his little dream-like fantasy. He made a decision. He couldn’t just disappear and leave things as they were. This is unfair! No one should have to live like this. I will find a way to usurp the Adventurers so that everyone can live in harmony. And it all starts with working hard to impress the others and get stronger myself!
Now that he understood his position better, his mind started to relax a bit. As he imagined finding a diamond and gifting his promised new garments to PP as a sign of friendship, his mind wandered off. His tired limbs lost all tension, and not long after that, he fell asleep. It was a light sleep, and he barely dreamed anything. He saw lights rushing by him, and incoherent sounds filled his consciousness. It was a jumble of images and noises warping into one another that so often happened in a semi-lucid state. There was one thing, one sentence, from a familiar voice that he could make out. He had heard that voice thousands of times, but something about it was off. He couldn’t quite place it into any memory, and no memory really came to mind when he recognised it. But something about the choice of words made it clear to him that he had heard it before: “All right guys, we have a new mission!”
Before his mind was able to explore what he heard in his dream, a loud crashing sound woke him up. He registered loud footsteps first, then realised that the tent had collapsed on him. He was entangled in the fabric, and a pair of hands from the outside hoisted him up.
“I can’t breathe!” he shouted but received no answer.
He flailed with his arms trying to get the fabric off his face, but another pair of hands restrained them. Something was tightened around his chest, probably rope, and he was unable to break free. He started flailing with his legs, and when the hands tried to grab him, he kicked them with his feet.
“You little shit!” he heard someone growl.
He was unable to recognise the voice through the sheets. A sudden pain shot through his leg. He registered another impact. Then another. Someone was hitting him with a big object. It hurt. He stopped flailing. A tear streamed down his cheek as he took short panicked breaths throughout the silence. Then the rope got pulled, and he was dragged away.