It had been a week since the general announcement went out declaring the end of the war. Exill waited in line as people excitedly discussed their next plans on what to do and where to go.
He had been itching to leave the camp since the news spread, and it was only now that they were being released. For the past week he had been holed up in camp, not even let out to work as Ham refused to employ him, citing the loss of contracts. The situation was similar for other apprentices as the market for mass manufactured weapons collapsed.
The question of where to go from here had been plaguing his mind even before Ham dismissed him. Blacksmithing and the stingy dwarf had been a marriage of convenience to unassign him from the meatgrinder that was the frontlines, and it was difficult to see where he could take things from here.
First of all, you had to be an Expert Blacksmith or above, capable of crafting enchantable items to even think of earning a living wage. Exill was an Expert Blacksmith but who would believe or even commission an item from a 17 year old when it took the average apprentice seven years to progress to that point?
What had become clear during his apprenticeship to Ham was that the culture of craftsmanship valued strong fundamental growth. Even if [Master Blacksmith] was somehow obtained, he would be laughed out by others as they would perceive he quickly skipped over the lower tier jobs, and lack a strong foundation.
Secondly, as mentioned before, the market for weapons had collapsed with the end of the war. It not only affected the mass produced kind, but the custom-made expensive blades as well. No one was hiring apprentices and the majority of trainees in the workshop expressed concerns that they might return to their village to find work.
The queue shuffled forward, bringing him closer to the exit and long-awaited freedom, nervously, he double checked his belongings. ‘I have my money pouch with 180 Denars, a stave, and my three equipment enchanted with [EXP Plus] for a stacked x8 multiplier boost. I just need to grab the scrap leather armour and spearhead from the stash.’
The canvas pack slung over his shoulder was half empty and held Verill’s letters and various miscellany including a poultice pot and portions of dried herbs. Exill had snuck out the night before to put away the armour and spearhead in a hidden stash.
He wasn’t entirely sure if they would search his belongings when he was discharged but didn’t want to take the chance of answering difficult questions. He was glad to have taken the precaution because a guard gave a cursory inspection of his pack and released him.
‘Freedom!’
Unable to contain his joy like the many refugees before him, he grinned as he skipped to the main street, before backtracking to a side alleyway where he had hidden his items under a grate. He shoved them into the now bulging pack and walked confidently up to the South Gate, guarding the way to the Inner City.
“60 Denars for non-residents. If you intend to stay longer than seven days, you must request a resident permit at the Magistrate’s.” The guard accepted the payment, glancing at his Card before motioning him to move on.
He was in the Inner City!
Exill couldn’t stop grinning as he walked with purpose up the well-maintained road. He had a clear view of the Labyrinth Tower, the one he had likened to the ‘Tower of Babel’. ‘I need to keep my eyes peeled for the Mercenary Guild. I heard it’s on the way to the Labyrinth and the banner should show two crossed swords.’
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Exill soon spotted the unassuming building up ahead. It was two storeys tall with a light sandstone façade. The double doors were open, and people could be seen milling about as they checked noticeboards, arguing with their comrades on which request to pick up. He furtively entered and joined a queue that led to a busy looking clerk.
“See this? This be an owlbear feather, nearly took me head clean off! Anton here, remarkable shot, blew the bloody buggers’ brains out.”
As the line moved forward he continued to hear various tales of bravado as a few groups engaged in friendly one upmanship.
“Hi, I would like to post a bounty for thirty grass hounds, five Denars a head, Riverville. Damn dogs have been devastating the livestock!” The red-faced man in front of Exill slammed a pouch full of money on the desk as he made his request.
“That would be fine sir, please sign here. The notice will go up tomorrow morning and the fee is thirty Denars, fifty if you would like to turn it into a same day posting.”
“Hmph, thirty Dees would do.”
“Thank you for choosing the Mercenaries Guild, and I hope you have a safe trip home.”
As the man in front huffed away, Exill nervously approached the counter. The clerk was sorting the silver and copper coins with long fingers that spoke of practiced ease.
“Hi, how can I help you?” the clerk asked in a professional tone.
“Um, I would like to register for membership.”
The clerk expressed an apologetic smile, “I’m so sorry sir, we only process bounties and requests in the morning, please come back in the afternoon and my colleague Iris would be pleased to process your membership.”
Exill thanked the clerk and awkwardly looked around a few noticeboards before entering the busy streets. This was an unexpected setback, and he had a few hours to burn. He had been planning to register and head directly to the Labyrinth.
He shrugged, ‘I guess I’ll find some place to stay.’
***
Exill exited the Inn with a frustrated look on his face. He had tried three places, but they were charging outrageous rates, easily triple what they charged in the outer city! Who would pay ten Denars for a shared room?
He huffed angrily down the street until he saw a young boy who couldn’t be older than nine begging from an alleyway. Struck with inspiration, he walked up to the boy, dropping a Denar into the beggar’s bowl. “Hi, can you tell me where the cheapest inn is?”
Nodding vigorously, the boy raised his bowl further.
Exill let out a sigh, but dropped another Denar into the bowl. The boy tentatively grabbed his hand and led him through a labyrinth of side alleyways. Exill tried to maintain his sense of direction by keeping an eye on the looming Labyrinth Tower from time to time.
They eventually arrived at a rundown establishment. The whitewashed walls were peeling in places and the windows were caked with dirt. A lazy tendril of smoke rose from the pipe of the Innkeeper as he stood leaning by the entryway, eyes focused on something only he could see.
The skinny man noticed Exill and nodded at the urchin, throwing him a piece of bread from an apron pocket. The kid quickly retreated and disappeared. “How much did he charge for directions?” he asked through a lungful of smoke.
Exill held up two fingers.
“Hmph. Sneaky brat. It’s four Denars if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor once we close the bar. seven Dees for a shared room, and twelve for a small one. Three extra per meal. All upfront.”
It was nearly twice the cost of the outer city, but it was cheaper to pay the premium rates than pay the gate entry fee each time. Unfortunately, his [Price Range] skill was limited to goods and couldn’t show prices for services, meaning he couldn’t check if this was the cheapest place even if he wanted to. “Shared room for four nights please, 28 Denars” Exill counted out two large copper coins and eight smaller pieces.
The innkeeper nonchalantly pocketed the coins before returning a well-worn key. “Your roommate is a merc. He snores when drunk” he said with a straight face.
Blinking in confusion, Exill looked down at the wrought iron key in his palm. ‘Isn’t this something you should tell someone before they purchase the room?’ He was immediately tempted to upgrade to a single room, but his coin pouch reminded him otherwise.
‘Damn this guy is a good salesman!’ He had nearly fallen for the upsell tactic. The innkeeper merely shrugged as if he could read Exill’s mind, and returned to his pipe with a faraway look in his eyes.