After he left Ann’s, Edge walked back down Main Street. He turned right at the corner, then continued for a few more blocks, mulling over his options as he crossed into the commercial district. There were several places in town where you could rent a bed, and none of them were cheap.
He could have saved a few credits by renting a lot on the common green or staying at a hostel like the Tourist’s Rest. But tonight, he wanted something better. He was going to celebrate his survival in style with a tasty meal in a private room. And the only place he knew of where he could get both was the Pioneer.
The hotel was located on one of the circular streets dividing the district, not far from the border of the crafter’s quarter. The Pioneer was more upscale than the handful of dives in town, but its meals weren’t nearly as pricy as the restaurants. More importantly, it had rooms to rent upstairs. Accommodations with locking doors and a cored guard who lived downstairs.
Edge walked down the street, glad that he wasn’t carrying the bloody, bladed collection of resources in his bag anymore. That he no longer had to worry about pricking himself with every step, and far more critically, revealing just how extraordinary the last few days had been.
Ten minutes later, he found himself standing in front of the entrance. He could hear people talking from a block away, along with a piano playing in the background. Both grew louder by the footfall as he crossed the front patio and made his way inside.
The Pioneer was built from a dark, lustrous wood, with rich swirling patterns to the grain. The ground floor was filled with a bar, featuring dozens of tables and a stage big enough to hold a band. The front had sliding panels to let the air in, and saloon style doors. Despite the uncertain times that had descended upon the planet, or perhaps because of them, the bar was packed. Filled with people coming to unwind over a drink and discuss the unprecedented changes to their world.
The interior was brightly lit. Warm, welcoming, and clean. Carvings of beasts adorned the walls, interspersed with vivid paintings displaying a vast range of biomes. The rich colors contrasted against the dark wood of the walls, making the artwork pop.
The owner of the building was tending the bar. A middle-aged man with glasses, who went by the name of Sam. Edge walked up to the counter and raised a hand in greeting, anticipating a less than warm welcome this time around. Sure enough, before he could say a word, Sam started yelling.
“Get the fuck out of my bar! You reek. You’re going to drive all my customers away. They want to escape the end of the world, not stare at a walking posterchild for it. Besides, you look dead broke, and the Pioneer has nothing to offer to people who can’t pay.”
Edge flashed a sheepish smile, then tried to win him over. “Sorry, it’s not my usual style. But like you were saying, it’s rough out there. I was caught out on the plains when the disaster struck and just made it back to town. But credits, Sam? Credits won’t be a problem. I need a room for a week with meals included, if you have one to spare.”
Sam’s expression brightened at those words, although he still looked pissed about the mess. “Get out. Now. I have one available, and meals won’t be a problem. We can discuss the price after we hose you down. You’re fucking filthy and I’ve never smelled anything so bad. What did you do, cover yourself in rotten meat and then roll around in monster shit?”
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“That’s closer to the mark than you think. Monster blood mostly. Nasty bastards called shadowreavers.”
“Damn, that must be quite a story. Tell it to me later and the first round is on me. But I won’t sell another drop while you’re standing by the bar. Rita!” Sam bellowed. “Go around back with this gentleman. Spray him with the hose until he won’t curdle milk as he walks past. Be quick about it, I can’t spare you for long when it’s this busy.”
One of the servers, a middle-aged woman with long black hair and a cloth apron tied around her waist, set down her tray and walked over to the counter. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve heard all day, and I’ve been dealing with hallucinating drunks who thought that the stage minimums on Jenny’s brews were only a suggestion. But I wouldn’t mind a break from the press.”
“Come on, Stinky.” She pointed at Edge. “Let’s just get this over with and then never speak of it again.”
He followed her out the back and into a small courtyard. Rita had Edge set down his parcel, then reached for a rubber hose connected to a large tank of water, pinching her nostrils with her other hand. She sprayed him down until the water ran clear, which took the better part of ten minutes, considering all the grime and gunk caked onto every inch of his body.
He started looking for a towel to dry himself off, but there was none to be found. Instead, Rita gestured and burned some mana. The next thing Edge knew, water was streaming off his body, leeching out of his clothing and hair until he was completely dry. She must have some manner of water manipulation skill. Something like that could come in handy.
When she let him back inside, he walked over to the bar to negotiate the price, settling on three thousand creds for the week. It was far more than he could have afforded before binding his core, but it wasn’t too bad considering the credits he’d made today.
Once they had sealed the deal, Rita came back by and handed Edge a key and a vacuum-packed mealbox. Then she pointed to the stairwell and left him to find his own way. Which wasn’t a problem since there were only twenty rooms for rent, and the number was engraved on the key.
He climbed the stairs and opened the door to his room. He stepped inside, savoring how the clamor cut off the moment he closed it again. Now that’s quality. He hung his pack on a hook by the door, stripped the remnants of the rags from his body, and peeled off his cheap starter boots.
He washed his hands and then opened the mealbox, relieved to discover that it held far better fare than what the wardens had provided. Inside was a thick sandwich. Grilled meat, vegetables, and cheese layered between soft brown bread made from the local grain. It was delicious and nutritious. He devoured it down to the last crumb within two minutes flat.
He was still hungry, but he was too tired to worry about it until morning. That only left one item on his pass-the-fuck-out-checklist. Even more than he wanted to sleep, Edge yearned to be clean. The hosing had been a good start, but he needed to soak and scrub before he would finally feel like himself again.
He walked into the bathroom, stepped into the tub, and turned on the water.
Thanks to the building’s magtech heater, the flow came out warm from the very first drop. Edge closed his eyes as the bliss of hot water washed over him, seeping into his body. The heat helped him let go of layer after layer of stress that had been pounded into his muscles by days of rough sleeping and almost dying on far too many occasions.
Regeneration could heal him, and that was great, but it couldn’t help him relax.
At long last, Edge was able to savor the uncomplicated joy of being somewhere warm and safe. Quiet and comfortable. He was finally able to come down from his survival-induced hypervigilance and let it all go. Or the first big chunk of it at any rate.
Then, for the next twenty minutes, he stopped thinking entirely, enjoying the lightness of his submerged body and the sublime pleasure of being clean.
After almost falling asleep in the bath for the second time, he got out of the tub and toweled himself dry. Then he slipped beneath the covers, groaning at the luxury of a soft mattress beneath his back instead of hard earth or branches.
Edge was out like a light thirty seconds later. The memories of how his strange journey had begun flitted across his dreamscape, like bubbles rising to the surface of a storm-wracked sea.