As Adren got closer to the massive steel gates of the city, he could see the inscriptions and carvings on them, depicting golden lions battling dragons. The carvings were all over the walls and gates, a true marvel of artistry.
Entering the city, the atmosphere seemed to lift. Homes were clean, no beggars on the streets, and shops were scattered around the block. Merchants with stalls lined the main street, bartering and selling.
"Betty is currently residing at the manor up at the higher citadel," explained Min, leading the way.
"How long has she been here? The last time we talked was about a year ago, before the collapse of the Zinon dungeon."
Min raised an eyebrow at Adren, clearly surprised.
"You were in the Zinon campaign?"
"Only in the first two, then we left. Just in time, apparently."
The Zinon campaign was an attempt to clear an infested dungeon. The first two attempts went fairly successfully, as the groups managed to secure footholds in the mid-levels and completely clear the lower-level catacombs.
"It could have succeeded. If only the nobles didn't feel the need to interfere, they could have cleared it all. Now, it's just another fourth-class wasteland, littered with the graves of the brave."
Everyone knew nothing good came from associating with nobles. They were selfish people, only caring for their own needs. Losing a couple tens of ability users? They wouldn't bat an eye. Anything they touched quickly became infested and corrupted.
Glancing around, Adren noticed a hunter's branch. The imperial flag was hung from its top windows, its red and gold fabric swaying gently in the night wind. The walls were made of brick, an uncommon choice. It looked more like an old bar from the west rather than a branch.
"Vexa, don't we need to exchange our crystals? There is a branch over there."
"Exchange yours, and when you're done, come to us. Min, can you give him Betty's address?"
Min handed a folded piece of paper to Adren, shook his hand and set off with Vexa.
Entering the branch felt like returning home after a long time away. The soft creak of the wooden floor and the aroma of smoked food lifted his spirits and relaxed him. A group of hunters were playing by the fireplace, one strumming a guitar, another playing his flute in tune. The third was telling one of the old legends, a story everyone knew by heart, but still listened to anyway.
At the counter stood a well-dressed receptionist, wearing a suit and a monocle. His black hair had started to turn grey, and his scarred hand rested on the tabletop.
"How much can I get for two second-class crystals and seven first-class?"
"It's two silvers for each second-class, and forty coppers for each first-class."
"I'll take that then."
Adren placed two hellhound crystals on the counter, one from the ambush and another he forgot to exchange before going on this trip. The seven first classes were from lower class monsters they killed on the way.
The receptionist took them, placed them against the light, and after a while, nodded with a soft smile on his face.
"I will be back in a second with the money. Take a seat, I will come to you when I am ready."
Looking around, he noticed some empty chairs, and collapsed into one of them, the adrenaline of the night draining from his body.
"Rough night?"
He glanced toward the voice. It was a man in his thirties, with a closely shaven beard and long black hair. He sat with what Adren assumed to be his party - three other hunters. All of them were unarmed, and the only things on the table were some empty plates and half-full beer mugs.
"Somewhat."
"The waitress can take your clothes to clean, if you want. There are also some rooms upstairs if you need some rest."
Glancing at his clothes, he realized they were still stained from the hellhound's blood. A week of desert travel didn't help their condition either.
"Thanks for the help."
The receptionist returned carrying six silvers and about eighty coppers in a small leather pouch. Seeming to have overheard their conversation, he offered him a room, which Adren gratefully accepted.
The room was small but cozy. A single gas lantern hung from the roof, and carpet covered the rough wooden floor. A single bed sat in the corner of the room, with a desk and chair in the other. Curtains covered a slightly open window.
They always liked being old-fashioned, he thought. Setting down his things, he changed into some new clothes and set his old ones aside to be cleaned. Then, he disassembled his revolver, cleaning each part carefully. After polishing them, he put it back together and started resharpening his knives.
The soft hubbub of the night market outside relaxed him. Finishing up with the knives, he collapsed into the bed, exhausted from the journey and repeated use of his ability. The feather mattress was comfortable, and the cotton sheets felt like silk compared to his old overcoat.
Sleep came near instantly. His heavy eyelids closed, sending him into deep, peaceful sleep for the first time that week.
END OF CHAPTER 3