In a world where a bag of money, a weapon, and a dream carried tangible weight, their value surpassed mere materialism. For those who had long endured the sting of poverty, life was like walking a tightrope, balancing precariously between fatigue, hunger, and sorrow.

For those without a weapon, the ominous prospect of becoming prey loomed large as the wilderness taught harsh lessons of survival. Without an indomitable will to persist, they were destined to perish, often without realizing it.

Dreams were the intangible essence that separated one from being a mere specter, a vague notion of oneself. Minds were like scattered fragments of countless visions and tangled words, attempting to piece together the puzzle of existence without discerning the complete image of who they truly were.

Brian was blissfully free from such thoughts. However, his presence caught the attention of passersby, not for his appearance or demeanor, but for his body odor. In Baurus, the smell of rotting vegetables typically marked one as a disreputable activist or a beggar.

Asdras navigated a delicate balance, keeping a respectful distance from his friend. He stayed close enough to avoid appearing neglectful but far enough to escape disapproving glances. He consoled himself by saying that this distance was mainly to avoid the bad scent.

Amid Brian's mumbling and efforts to draw little attention, he felt a sudden movement on his shoulder. Startled, he dodged to the right, shielding his face.

Asdras, with a hint of amusement, clarified, "It's me, idiot. We've arrived at the inn."

Before them stood a two-story building with dark-brown clay rooftop tiles, exuding rustic charm. The weathered wood walls had a washed pale yellow hue. A sign reading "Rine's Heart" hung between the walls, leading to an obscure alley beyond.

As they entered, the inn's interior exuded a classical style, echoing North culture. The owners aimed for a welcoming ambiance, but harsh times and biting cold revealed patched-up holes more conspicuously than desired.

Rine, in her early forties, rarely engaged in arguments or displayed her true emotions to clients. Married with two children, she devoted her days to honing her business and coaxing skills, often earning extra coins.

However, like any good innkeeper, her day sometimes took a turn for the worse, especially when activists or beggars entered, engaging in heated debates about their right to use the facilities or her right to a clean place.

Setting her mop aside, she regarded the newcomers with an unwavering gaze, concealing any signs of fatigue or exasperation. Flashing her most charming smile, she politely inquired, "How can I assist you today?"

Brian mustered his most innocent and charming expression as he asked Rine, "Where's the closest spot I can get a bath?"

She assessed his appearance and demeanor carefully. "You can have one here for a few coins," she replied. "Or, if you'd like to earn it, you could put in an hour of work, doing some scrubbing and mopping."

Asdras, knowing further negotiation would delay their much-needed bath and meal, said, "We'll take the bath and some food for one silver. Deal?"

Rine was momentarily taken aback, as one silver was a significant sum, especially during lean times. Summoning her most gracious smile in weeks, she agreed, "Deal, my dear! I'll set you up with a nice bath, plenty of warm water, and soap."

She gestured toward the staircase, inviting them to follow her.

Asdras smiled inwardly upon seeing two bathrooms instead of one. He turned to Rine and asked, "Where can we put our things?"

Rine pointed to the last room on the floor and said, "You can dry and change in there."

She led them to the bathrooms, each equipped with a large wooden tub filled with hot water and fresh herbs, filling the air with a pleasant minty aroma. A sheet of tin nailed to the wall served as a makeshift mirror.

She provided them with a brush, a bucket of steaming water, and a generous piece of soap, then left them to their bathing. Brian scrubbed vigorously until his skin turned pink and sore, while Asdras focused on cleaning his hands thoroughly.

After several buckets of hot water, they were done. Brian, with a soft and prolonged prayer to the heavens and Saint Rose, could be heard from his bathroom. It was a saying he had heard from Father Joe: "I wouldn't look too filthy even on the roads, let alone for any self-respecting act of being a man."

Once they had dried off and used a rough brush to untangle their hair, Asdras began to hum a happy tune as he dressed. Just as he was about to mention getting a meal, he was startled by Brian's sudden scream.

"Nope! Tell me where it's at, where it's at!"

"What?"

"My backpack, my clothes, my stuff!"

Asdras surveyed the room, trying to understand what had happened, when he suddenly realized, "Maybe that woman took our clothes to clean, don't you think?"

Brian, still wrapped in a fur bathrobe, nodded in agreement, his expression more relaxed.

"You might have a point. It did stink pretty bad," he admitted.

He decided to go downstairs to find out more and gestured for Asdras to check the inn. Asdras complied, giving a quick look around and spotting Rine and a middle-aged man enjoying a drink. He deemed it safe and signaled for him to come down.

Seeing the boys approach hesitantly, Rine's eyes widened. "What's the matter, dear?" she asked.

Brian, his voice tinged with shyness, scratched his cheek and asked, "Did you take my things to clean?"

"What stuff?"

"My backpack, y'know, with my stuff."

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Rine mulled over the situation, her mind racing to comprehend what might have happened. To avoid alarming her well-paying customers, she asked again, "What do you mean? Isn't it in that room? Your friend seemed fine to me."

Brian, with a tinge of desperation in his voice, replied, "No, that's not it. I just finished drying off, and when I went to put my clothes on, they were gone. You must know where they went, right?"

A man seated on the balcony nearby cleared his throat twice, drawing their attention. "If you're willing to part with some coin, I can tell you where they are," he said.

Brian, unable to contain his frustration, moved toward the man, nearly knocking over a chair. "What do you mean, pay? Where are my things?"

Rine tried to intervene, but before she could speak, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved an emblem, placing it on the balcony railing. "One silver, take it or leave it," he said.

Asdras examined the emblem closely. It was a silver token with hints of copper, featuring an intricately engraved skull with crossed swords at its heart. Recognizing it, he patted Brian on the shoulder and whispered, "Military."

Asdras produced a silver coin from his shirt's inner pocket and handed it to the man.

"Sorry," Brian muttered, his rage subsiding with the realization.

The man smiled and pointed toward the back entrance of the inn. "It was a boy about your age. He went that way, and he smelled like rotten fruit," he said.

Brian thought about the kids who had pelted him with vegetables earlier. Fueled by a combination of anger and determination, he and Asdras sprinted toward the back entrance, leading to a narrow alley.

Brian and Asdras navigated the winding alleys, following the putrid odor in the air. Their pursuit led them to a dead-end alley where a motley group of kids encircled an old man, his tattered clothes and bandaged wounds telling a tale of hardship.

As they approached, the children ceased their chatter and turned inquisitive gazes toward the newcomers. Some laughed when they saw Brian's bathrobe-clad figure.

Brian cleared his throat, puffed himself up to appear more imposing, and demanded, "Who stole my things?"

The children exchanged glances but remained silent. Just as Brian was about to repeat his question, Asdras pointed to a boy cautiously opening a nearby door. He wore a red T-shirt and leather pants, had short hair, and a faint scar above his left eye.

Brian and Asdras sprinted toward the door, but the children quickly formed a makeshift barricade, brandishing an assortment of weapons: rocks, rotten vegetables, knives, and even a wooden branch.

Asdras drew his sword, holding it aloft in readiness. Some children hesitated and stepped back, while others, fueled by bravado, inched forward.

The old man in the center of the commotion spoke with an earnest voice, attempting to defuse the situation, "Calm down, calm down. Arryin, give back his things. Remember, we're not thieves or vagabonds; we're saviors!"

The old man observed Brian and Asdras with a curious glint in his eye and asked, "Why not stay for a story?"

Arryin flung Brian's backpack to him, and Brian awkwardly caught it, trying to maintain some dignity while standing in his bathrobe.

Asdras exchanged a glance with Brian and gave a subtle nod to the old man. The man smiled and said, "Ah, yes, dignity indeed. Head back, don your finest attire, and we shall eagerly await your return."

They retraced their steps, briefly making eye contact with the children and the old man as they moved away. Once out of sight, they hastened their pace back to the inn.

Rine's face lit up with relief when she saw Brian return with his belongings. As Brian went to change his clothes, Asdras asked her, "Do you know an old man who tells stories?"

"No, why?"

The man on the balcony set aside his second bottle and asked, with a hint of amusement, "Is he nearby?"

"Yes, he's the one who told the guy to return Brian's things. He invited us back for a story." Asdras replied.

The man burst into laughter, clapping his hands. "No need to hurry; go ahead. In fact, I'll accompany you. I just need to reach out to a dear friend of mine; his tales are quite remarkable."

Brian returned after changing his clothes and asked Asdras, "Are we going back?"

The man on the balcony enthusiastically encouraged them, "Go, go, it will be amazing!"

Asdras blinked rapidly, then turned to Brian and mumbled, "Well, let's go then."

As Brian and Asdras made their way back, they kept a safe distance from the old man and the children, close enough to hear the story without jeopardizing their safety. Some children shot them angry glances, while others eyed Asdras's sword with curiosity.

The old man clapped his hands, sending an invisible shockwave that captured everyone's attention. He drew a deep breath and began his story with wide-eyed enthusiasm, "Listen up, kids! Gather 'round, for I'm about to spin you a yarn 'bout a fella who dared to join the Eruption!"

Everyone leaned in, their faces filled with anticipation as they hung on every word of the old man's story.

"He wandered the shadowy alleys in the dead of night, his eyes darting about like frightened rabbits, fear clawing at his soul. 'The demons,' he'd whisper, 'they're coming for me. I'm marked, damned! The man, his voice a frantic tremor, confided in me, 'They see the truth, they do!'"

With a sweeping motion of his hands, he paused for effect, first pointing at himself and then at the kids. "I dared to question, 'Who are they?'"

"'The Council, the church!' he spat with venomous accusation. 'They preached their message as a battle cry against the monsters, but it was all a twisted charade. They're after control, I'm swearing it! They want us tethered like cattle, ready for the slaughter.'" The storyteller's fervor was palpable as he wove his twisted tale.

Applause reverberated through the crowd, grabbing everyone's attention. The military man from the inn started it. A middle-aged man, bald and dressed in dark robes with a copper cross hanging from his neck, stood by his side.

Amidst the unexpected applause, the old storyteller leaped from his improvised seat, his intention to flee clear on his face. However, before he could escape, strong hands tackled him to the ground, and his arms were forcibly restrained.

Arryin, visibly nervous but determined, summoned the courage to ask, "Why?"

The military man nonchalantly shrugged, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Misleading folks about eruptions and awakenings is considered a wrongdoing among civilians, and for the church, it's deemed heresy," he said.

He winked at Brian and Asdras and added, "I might be retired, but my friend here isn't. And when it comes to heresy, he'll handle it."

The man approached Brian and Asdras, offering a friendly pat on their shoulders. "Thank you, guys! This old man was causing quite a commotion in the city, and we've been trying to catch him for a while," he chuckled.

Brian stared at the man and asked, "Is he an exorcist?"

The man waved them closer and replied, "Come here, my friend. These boys helped us."

The exorcist, who had been holding the old storyteller, studied Asdras and Brian with a contemplative smile before saying, "Testimony, come with me."

Though hesitant, the military man assured them, "Go on; it's likely you'll receive a handsome reward."

Asdras nodded and agreed, "We'll go to the church then. That's fine."

Brian suddenly remembered and added, "That's right, we need to deliver that old man's letter."

The exorcist fixed a dry gaze on Asdras's hands and said with a creepy smile, "Especially you, boy with green eyes. We have a special reward for you."