Morning sunlight filtered through the inn's small window, painting the cot with stripes of gold. Ethan stretched carefully, every movement reminding him of the bruises from the forest, the hit from the earth creature, and the strenuous days of cautious survival. Outside, the city hummed with life, a rhythm he didn't yet understand, and today would demand more than mere observation—it would require planning, patience, and careful action.
Ethan adjusted his leather bag over his shoulder. Inside were three unreadable books, a rusty sword and shield, rations, water, and his remaining coins. He had three silver coins and five bronze after paying two silver coins to enter the city and five silver coins to secure a month at the inn. Every coin counted; a single misstep could drain his resources or worse, put him in danger.
Stepping outside, Ethan blended into the flow of the streets. Merchants shouted in a language he didn't understand, children ran between carts, and strange scaled creatures scurried along the cobblestones. The smell of cooking fires, sweat, livestock, and iron from armor mixed into a dense, unfamiliar atmosphere. He didn't hide—he had no reason to—but he moved with awareness, observing every detail: guard patrols, merchant gestures, the flow of adventurers returning from quests, and how they carried their rewards to the guild.
Then he spotted one. Sword slung across the back, shield at the side, and a small emblem pinned to the chest. The adventurer moved with confidence, greeting fellow adventurers with subtle nods. Guards recognized the emblem instantly, allowing the adventurer to pass freely. Ethan noted every detail: how the adventurer approached the gate, the spacing between him and the guards, and the gestures that signaled recognition.
Ethan's mind raced. He could follow the adventurer to understand the guild's routines—how adventurers delivered loot, received payment, and interacted with staff. Coins and resources were limited, but knowledge could be just as valuable.
He fell in step at a safe distance, walking naturally but attentively. There was no need to hide; he only needed to avoid drawing unnecessary attention while noting patterns. The adventurer navigated the crowded streets with ease, stepping around carts and clusters of people. Ethan memorized which streets were safer, which entrances led to courtyards, and which guards were more alert.
As they neared the guild building, Ethan observed adventurers returning from quests. They carried goods, sacks, and trinkets, which they handed to staff behind counters. Coins were exchanged, sometimes carefully weighed or counted. Guards stood nearby, watching but never interfering unless rules were broken. Ethan studied every gesture, every transaction, mentally mapping the flow of operations.
The adventurer entered a side door beside the main guild entrance. Ethan followed at a cautious distance, noting that this door seemed reserved for members, a shortcut for those with recognition or emblems. He scribbled notes in his pad: positions of doors, guard routines, how adventurers approached counters, and the timing of transactions. Every detail mattered.
Ethan spent hours moving through the streets, observing how ordinary citizens paid tolls at city gates, while adventurers passed freely, sometimes with goods in hand. He even saw a few adventurers leaving the guild with coins, their expressions a mix of relief and fatigue after turning in their rewards. The system made sense: emblems and guild recognition granted privileges, while others paid for access.
His stomach reminded him he had not eaten anything as yet and his water bottle was nearly empty. But hunger was manageable; mental awareness and observation were far more critical right now. Every action he took, every corner he turned, was part of a larger plan. Any mistake could waste coins, draw unwanted attention, or jeopardize his chance to learn from the guild.
As evening approached, lanterns lit the streets, casting long shadows. Merchants closed their stalls, guards followed set patrols, and adventurers continued to move in and out of the guild. Ethan noted the rotations, the guards who were more alert, and the subtle differences in how adventurers approached doors and counters. He cataloged all of it, creating a mental map that would guide his first attempt to interact with the guild directly.
Finally, he returned to the inn, muscles tired but mind sharpened. Laying on the cot, he reviewed his notes: guard rotations, merchant routines, entry and exit patterns, gestures, and emblem positions. Observation had given him power; planning would keep him alive.
He counted his remaining coins: three silver, five bronze. Enough for meals if necessary, but mistakes would be costly. Lanterns flickered outside, shadows danced along the walls, and distant carts clattered down cobblestone streets. Sleep came slowly, but it came, and he let it carry him, readying for the next step.
In this city, strength wasn't measured solely by sword or magic. Survival required patience, observation, and careful management of resources and knowledge. Tomorrow, he would follow another adventurer, watch them deliver their goods to the guild, and learn how to signal his own intention to join—all without speaking the language or drawing attention.