Long story short.

Magnus got into the blacksmith’s shop, A muscular lady who was chewing what appeared to be tobacco greeted him, her brash no-nonsense attitude was refreshing for a change.

They talked, and she agreed to barter, he ended up exchanging the gabeson and to his surprise the leather armor, he thought he would have to go to a tanner for that, but in the end, the blacksmith worked as a supplier for all kind of weapons and armor, at least in this town.

He decided not to be a cheap stake and settled for a gabeson of similar quality, he exchanged the leather armor which the blacksmith woman identified as wyvern hide for some chain mail that covered his torso and arms.

He chose also a full-face helmet and armored gloves that reached up to halfway through his forearm.

As for shin guards and leg armor, he settled for some high-quality full leg armor, the blacksmith gave him a great deal, allegedly whoever commissioned it never came back to finalize the purchase, it fit him, so he got it off her hands.

In the end, he came 5 gold lighter, and around 40 pounds heavier on the armor side. Yet the weight was manageable.

He exchanged the rapier for a polearm, settling down for a Poleaxe, it came with a hefty Axe head on one side, a hammer head on the other, and a spear point on top. Around 7 feet in length.

He decided to go for such a weapon after test-swinging a few of them and feeling the most comfortable with it.

He kept the dagger and hatchet as backup weapons.

With his weapons set and done. He dressed up and left the blacksmith/armorsmith.

He asked her about a general store and work in town and the woman told him about the “Awakened Companions” a merc guild similar to what would settle down for an adventurer’s guild in a Japanese fiction. They had the general store in there, and it was easily the cheapest option, the only downside is that he had to become a member.

He sighed. Yes, he could do so. But did he really want to?

The only reason he got the armor and weapons was that he was in a murder-happy medieval fantasy world. And if he wanted to travel in any way or form he needed to be safe.

Direwolfs, manticores, griffins, etc. all of them were real, and if you walk around like a morsel, you get eaten.

He remembered the description of the system he chose… it was terrible if he wanted to go the crafter’s route…

The only way for him to earn experience is to kill things and absorb life energy from them, or either sit down and meditate trying to absorb as much aether or aura as he could and progress that way. While safe it was boring as hell… and SLOW. unbelievably slow.

He could see the orange sky, denoting that the sun was finally setting, and for now, he decided to head into the Inn, get some sleep,p and maybe rest and register tomorrow.

Get a new tent, sleeping mat, and bag while he is at it.

As he walked towards the inn he was met with a slight problem.

A person stepped in front of him, holding a dagger, as he heard someone stepping right behind him.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here” said one of the rogues.

He could almost swear that the person was a woman. But he could not guess, they all had their bodies and faces covered. And the voice sounded as androgynous as it could be.

“Follow us, don't make any fuss about it. And you might get away from our exchange unscratched.” Said the one while poking him in the back with something sharp.

He could not feel the sharpness, only the pressure at this point, but if it was a knight dagger, it would probably be able to puncture through his armor. Or maybe not. He did not know, truly he was ignorant of the capabilities of armor and weapons.

Hell, he did not even know if he could fight the two of them. But he knew one thing. If things get bad making a ruckus would alert the guards or some shit.

They guided him to a side alley while being as shady as they could possibly be.

You never follow people with drawn knives where they are leading you, try to run away if you can, or fight back. And although he was comfortable in his armor, he did not know if he would be able to outrun them with 40+ pounds of extra weight.

He sighed quietly, and just as they were about to exit the main street, he abruptly stopped, pivoted left away from the knife on his right side, and swung a backhand towards the person behind him using all of his momentum.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Wha” was the only thing the person behind him managed to say before diving back, and while they avoided the backhand they also did not stab him.

He grabbed his poleaxe with both his hands and swung it in an arc around making some more space.

The thug behind him dived back and rolled under the swing, the one in front charged, he used his knowledge of baseball to carry on the swing and reposition himself, facing both assailants at the same time.

Magnus took off his rucksack and dropped it on the ground.

“You really should not have done this,” he said to the two masked individuals.

“Are you insane?” screamed thug number 2.

“Just shut the fuck up and fight” Why? why was he so Ok with this? Why was he instigating instead of de-escalating?

His train of thought got interrupted as thug number one lunged at him, her speed startled him as he breathed out sharply and swung the poleaxe.

Something inside his stomach bubbled, and the weapon in his hands accelerated to a degree that it whistled in the air, surprising not only him.

The lunging rogue’s eyes went wide and they tried to dodge, but in the end, the only thing they managed was to mess up the edge alignment of the axehead.

The hit still impacted her shoulder, with a thump and the lump of steel that made the poleaxe head snap’d something in their shoulder.

The other thug turned around and booked it without a second thought.

As Thug Number One lay on the ground screaming in pain, he looked dumbfounded at thug number two as they disappeared into the alleyway.

“HALT!” screamed someone behind him as he turned around to see some guards. Or what he assumed were guards.

“Put down your weapons, and don't resist, you are currently being detained!” one of the women in uniform said. She had one of those mancatchers in her hands. The two other guards had spears.

“Are you with them?” he asked as he pointed at the ground. You can't never be too careful, so he felt necessary to ask.

“What? No! We are the town guards!” she said as she tapped the brooch that kept her red cape pinned together. A memory flashed confirming it as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

“All right” he said as he dropped the Poleaxe, he took out the knight’s dagger and the hatchet and dropped them on the ground too.

“Lead the way, officer”

The way to the station was short.

“Get that one into the cells, and get her a mender!” screamed the woman in charge, as she led them inside the building proper.

She opened the door to a side room and motioned for him to enter.

“Sit and wait”

He took the seat as the door shut closed with a reverberating thud.

Magnus decided to take off his helmet, it was not as uncomfortable as he had guessed, but indoors with little to no air movement he felt it choking him up a bit. Something he would need to look into down the line. If not just try to get used to it.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and he was starting to get really annoyed at waiting…

Over that time he wondered why he acted the way he did, why antagonize them, why not just run away the moment he had the escape path secured.

Part of him revolted at the thought of running away, a tactical retreat was a possibility, and regrouping was a thing he was willing to do. But running away. It made him feel anger like never before.

He never considered himself as a prideful person. But now something had changed.

It was not the previous occupant of the body, it did not trigger any memories.

Then it came to him.

He willed the character sheet to appear.

‘A fuking dragon’ one of his bloodlines was probably one of the most prideful creatures to exist in fantasy.

“Fuck me” he muttered and just as he said that the door opened.

The new female officer looked at him for a few seconds. Then she cleared her throat and pretended she had not heard him… but she definitely did. If her lightly blushed ears meant something. He also noted how pointy they were.

‘Medieval Puritans…’ if he had to guess.

‘Maybe an Elf?’ then he stoped himself. ‘Don't be racist.’ he mentally scolded himself.

“So,” Magnus said as he made a motion for the officer to start talking. His patience was thin for waiting.

“The Incident. Could you recount your experience?” She asked as she composed herself.

She unrolled a parchment and took a quill from an ink bottle.

“I was headed towards the Unicorn Inn. When two of them blocked my path, they had knives, i managed to get away from the pincer they had me in as they led me to a side street. We fought, and one of them ran after I struck the first one down” Then I shrugged.

“Uhm. yes, we have confirmed that The individual in question is Nessa Blunt, a known thief and extortionist in town, she has a few warrants for her arrest. And a bounty of 3 electrum. Is it bold of me to assume that you are a registered Companion with the guild?”

“No, i am not. At least not yet…” he decided to spill a bit of the beans “I concluded my Awakening ceremony today, and was planning to go rest at the unicorn inn”

“The Smiling Corn” she interrupted him to correct him.

“The Smiling Corn…” he corrected himself, a bit annoyed, but continued “to rest and register tomorrow.”

“Then it's a bit more complicated. We could give you payment as a freelancer. It would come at a higher tax for the bounty. Or you could collect the bounty tomorrow, although the delay may complicate things further.”

“How?” he decided to ask.

She seemed hesitant. Fidgety. In the end, she sighed and placed the quill down.

“It is not for me to say. Just know that It could complicate things. The decision is up to you.”

Complicate things how? What?

“How much is the tax?” he asked.

“It would boil down the bounty to one electrum,” she said as she looked pained when saying so.

“Two-thirds?” he could almost not believe what he was hearing. She nodded in shame.

“The guilds, have almost exclusive rights to all contracts and bounties, the laws don't favor the independent hunters and dungeon divers.”

“So they greased enough pockets to change the local laws to favor them, increasing taxes on independent agents, discouraging everyone from working on their own.” he supplied what she seemed reluctant to say.

Her scandalized face but no refutal told him everything he needed to know.

He wanted to curse out loud but stopped himself from doing so, last thing he needed was to get charges of heresy or some other shit.

He was low on coin… Well, not that low. But still, the 5 gold he had to pay for his new armor has set him back to nearly half of what he started with.

And that is not even counting on the registration fee from the guild, or whatever the expenses will be.

He did not know if he could afford to pass on the two electrum.

Deep down something boiled inside of him. Telling him that those two electrum belong to him! That he should not give them up…

“I don't think I can afford to pay two electrum as taxes.” The Elf Guard seemed understanding and she gave him a pitiful nod.

“Tomorrow, after you register, show this to the guild. They will give you your bounty. Until then, follow the guard outside, she will return your weapons to you, and they will escort you to The Smiling Corn.” She said as she signed the paper, folded it, and sealed the letter with some wax.

“May we meet next in better circumstances” he said as he pocketed the letter, and offered his hand for a shake.

She looked at his hand quizingly, before she grabbed his forearm.

“May favor smile at you and misfortune not reach you so we don't have to meet again.” She released his hand and he left the office.