"AHH—"
Huff… Huff…
Kreig screamed in his slumber, as if he had been rattled by horror, his body jolted.
The scream echoed through the room of white, with beds properly aligned beside each other at a meter distance. The light bulbs lit as if fireflies, flickering and elusive. The wooden double-hung window in the room allowed the exchange of fresh air, as well as the warm, yellow rays of the sun.
"Did I die after all…?"
He muttered, his voice still, vision dark, for his eyes seemed to fight against his will to be opened.
Feeling the struggle, his hands travelled from his waist to his face, trying to force his eyes open.
"Band aid…?" He muttered, with a pause. "Could it be that… I…didn't die?"
Inhale…exhale…
Slowly, as he calmed the rhythm of his breathing, he regained his earring that seemed to have fallen asleep.
Then he saw many familiar faces, all staring at him with pity and relief, but their eyes didn't linger so long, and they continued conversing.
"Lord Abel was crazy… what kind of method of recruiting was that…"
"Indeed… I know we're not of much importance, but…" The voice paused. "No… we shouldn't dwell on it further… we should instead be thankful that we were let go to live… Thorne… despite the harsh path of a mercenary, he remained the same…"
"You're right… But still, because of Thorne, we were able not just to live," the speaker paused, tightening his grasp on a leather pouch, "but see hope…"
"So that's what happened…"
Kreig muttered.
A heroic sacrifice, huh…
He thought, tightening his grip on a leather pouch beside his waist.
…
After an hour, the wounded who wanted to join Abel were enlisted, while those who didn't were dismissed. Among those who were dismissed were the majority of the cleaners, some of the immobile combatants, and Kreig.
He didn't want to waste his time idling, at least unlike what he did before.
After leaving the hospital, he wandered the City of Parry with newfound power: perseverance.
"I once lived on the streets. No," he paused, looking at an all-familiar street, "Throughout my life, I lived the lowest. Procrastination, or being a sloth in essence, is what I was."
"But…" he paused again, his dark eyes, for once, reflected light.
"I persevered, even without a cause to live, I still did… I may have been unblessed—weak. But that is exactly the reason why I'd try to rise."
As the words escaped his lips, he took out a silver within his small leather pouch, heading straight to the outer area of the city where the poorer side exists.
After a few minutes of walking, he grabbed the attention of others with his bandage-covered head, but it was something he paid no notice to, begging on the alley got him attention, even more associated with disdain, he did not mind getting more as he had arrived at the location he was going to.
Before him stood an inn.
"Bronze Inn"
The name was straightforward: cheap and unalluring.
Despite the web hanging down its signage, worn down wooden planks, and an uninviting aesthetic it had, Kreig entered with a glimpse of happiness evident on his face.
Ting.
The door's chime resounded, echoing through the empty inn.
At the cashier was a shocked old man, his balding hair hiding behind the 'cheap' alcohol that seemed to be left expired on a table, unopened, never served.
"Ho hoo, young man… Here for ye to drink?" said the old man.
"Do you happen to have a room available?" Kreig answered with a question.
"Ke ke ke, of course we do. Rarely do people come here, the outer side of the city."
"How much for a room?" asked Kreig.
"Hmm…" the old man paused and went to circle Kreig, as if doubtful and assessing him.
Cling. Cling.
Kreig grabbed his pouch and let the shards within it produce a sound, causing the old man to release his tension.
"I see, I see! Thought yer like the others, young man! Sorry, sorry, many time I'd been robbed! Ke ke, I der wish for ye to pay first ke ke." The old man bowed politely, his tone apologetic yet somehow guarded.
"How much?" Asked Kreig aloofly.
"50 bronze shards for a month, no food included in that ke ke. 75 if with food. What do ye think, young man? If ye plan to stay only for a week, then it'd cost you 18 bronze shards, what do ye think?"
"Hmmm," Kreig murmured a pausing, hesitating.
Seeing Kreig hesitate, the old man immediately spoke, "45 for a month, 70 with food, 15 for a week!"
However, as if not enough, Kreig clicked his tongue, then put his hand on his chin as if pondering deeply on it.
The old man's pressure intensified; he hadn't expected Kreig to be such hard-headed and not easily swayed. He glared at the young man, as if manifesting: Come on, accept it!
However, his wishes were ignored, the young man in front of him had not only clicked his tongue multiple times, but even sat his chin on both of his palms in the air, as if a chair had invisibly formed on him as deep as his thoughts were!
The scene caused the old man to be astounded at the same time, he furiously declared, "Fine! 40 for a month! 60 for a month with food! 10 for a week! Hmmph!"
The old man's declaration caused Kreig to be sober, immediately picking the second deal. He needed shelter, and more than that, food.
The old man, furious, demanded a payment, which Kreig immediately handed over. Unbeknownst to the poor old man, Kreig had pondered deeply not because of the price he'd given initially, but because it suddenly occurred to Kreig how he'd manage such a huge sum of money. Indeed, the biggest enemy of oneself is the mind.
In his pouch, he's got a total of six silver shards and 60 bronze shards, minus the 10 to pay for the treatment he received from the hospital. While walking his way to the inn where he is, he'd seen swords on display, costing silver shards, not only that, armors as well.
Now that he'd decided to move forward and cast aside his former shell, he needed to be smart, money-wise, in his expenditures.
After giving the 60 bronze shards to the old man, he was given a room on the second floor of the three-story building, a tall inn.
After settling down, filling his stomach, and getting the room key from the old man, he walked up the stairs that would feel as if each step would result in a crack.
He reached his room in no time.
His hand reached for the key in his leather pouch.[1]
Then slowly, he picked the lock of the door.
Creek—
The door shrieked as if it had been stuck for so long that it rooted through the floor.
What greeted him was the hot, unventilated room. The room itself is relatively small, it was a 2.5 x 2.5 square space that had only a small wooden window, a single bed pushed against the wall, a tiny table, a crate doubling as a nightstand, and a washbasin in the corner.
"The room is dim. But there should be a lamp and a match to at least alleviate the limited vision."
Kreig muttered as he closed and locked the door.
He then observed the room, the window, the bed, the table, and all the furniture. Kreig did so not because of excessive cautiousness, but because of the pleasure of a first time.
He leisurely sniffed the unventilated air before finally allowing the fresh air to come in as he opened the small window.
Kreig did not immediately slump on his bed; he first looked for things like the lamp and a small space to put his keys down for as long as he'd rest.
He spent quite a bit of time, but he didn't rush.
With a slight grin on his face, Kreig mumbled,
"This is only the start… yet I feel I'd come so far…" he paused, looking outside the window where the exhausted sun's silhouette succumbs.
"This room shall be the witness… the witness of my rise and change! I swear on my name, Kreig Haven!"
[1] His white shirt and leather pants were taken care of by the hospital. In here, he'd walked in hospital clothes.
As dumb as he looked, he didn't care in the slightest if people were to look. Kreig had already gotten used to it more than anyone he'd cared for. Besides, their look were much different than the disdain and disgust he'd receive on the street.