The small town was bustling with activity, in stark contrast to my nightly stroll.
I managed to recall the path back to yesterday's entrance, which was exactly where I needed to go.
On my way there, I actually got a few strange looks, likely due to the dry blood on my armor or the unsheathed sword on my shoulder.
Actually, right before I reached my destination, I crossed paths with a small group of men wearing similar leather armor, stained with much fresher blood.
One of them was also carrying a bloody sack, and the rancid smell coming from it felt familiar – I could distinctly recall this smell from back in the mines.
Either way, I noticed they received far fewer looks than me, and that their weapons were properly sheathed, which might have been the largest contributor to the townsfolk's reactions. A problem I was now going to resolve.
I made my way to the industrial district – more specifically, to a relatively small building called 'Old Ben's - Woodcraft And Leather Work'.
This was one of the places Amelia recommended. Of course, if I wanted a new weapon, or some metal armor, the smithy nearby would be the right choice. However, I came for something else.
As I walked through the door, I was greeted by a mix of smells – the smell of freshly polished wood, the fragrance of newly tanned leather, and some combination of mildly acidic scents coming from farther away.
I approached the counter, behind which stood a short bold man, wearing a thick leather apron that bore old and fresh stains, the latter giving off a faint acidic scent similar to the one coming from the back.
"Welcome to Ol' Ben's workshop! How may I help you?"
The man spoke in a friendly yet professional tone.
"I'm looking for a new sheath. Also, I'd be thankful if you could take a look at my armor."
I tried to remain as polite as possible, while the man threw a quick glance at my leather chestpiece, his expression immediately shifting to a professional demeanor.
"Hmm… wolves? Those are some deep marks, but honestly, there isn't that much damage. I could patch it up, if you want. 3 gold. I'll even throw in a maintenance kit so you can clean it up properly next time."
On my way here, I went by a food stall offering large pieces of roasted boar meat, staked on long wooden sticks in a kebab-like fashion, with a mix of onions and peppers in between the fat soaked meat.
Of course, after the gray goo earlier, I couldn't resist buying one, even though from my own life experience, I knew this type of outdoor stall would probably be expensive in any world. The price ended up being 5 copper, and included a loaf of bread, to boot.
Looking back at that experience, 3 gold, or 30 silver - which was also around the price of one of those massive wolf pelts - felt like a robbery for something as small as this.
However, Amelia's earlier words replayed in my head:
'I never bought anything there myself, but over those last few years, I've heard more than a few adventurers who came to the shrine to pray for Old Ben's health. I heard his workshop is on the expensive side, but it's probably worth the price.'
I inwardly sighed, and simply handed over the gold, and afterwards - the armor itself.
"I'll be done in ten minutes or so. Oh, give me the sword, too. I'll see if I have any fitting sheaths in the back."
True to his word, the man soon returned with the armor, the claw marks now patched together with thin leather strips.
In his other hand was my sword, and under his armpit was a long black leather sheath.
"You're in luck! This sword is custom made – the length to breadth ratio is quite unusual. Usually, I'd have to make a custom sheath to match, but I found one in the back that happened to be a perfect fit. Oh, here's your armor, good as new. Try it on if you'd like."
I took his offer and began putting on the armor, pausing to ask the important question.
"How much?"
"Well, truth be told, a custom sheath would go for 5 gold, at least. Still, this one was laying around for quite a while, so I don't mind getting rid of it. 3 gold, that's my offer."
"2 gold"
"2 gold, 8 silver."
"Fine."
I felt like I was overpaying for some old piece of junk from someone's garage, passed off as a 'vintage collector's item', but I also really didn't want to end the day without finally sheathing this sword.
I already thought about wrapping it in some rags, but the sheer retchedness of that look would be worth paying a few gold coins to avoid.
And so, inwardly lamenting the silver coins I could probably save if I haggled a little bit more, I exited the store, my budget reduced to 20 gold, plus a few silver and copper coins.
However, two of my pressing issues were now taken care of.
Now, it was time to continue onward to my next destination.
***
The large, three story structure before me was the largest I've seen in this world so far, at least from up close.
In front of it was a hanging wooden sign, gently swinging in the wind.
The (painted) engraving on the sign depicted an illustrious blue mushroom, resting alongside an ale mug on top of a bed.
The heavy wooden door was already open, so I stepped inside, finding myself in a small, cozy reception area, making my way to the counter.
"Welcome to the Blue- oh! Sebastian, was it? You're a bit early. Unless you're looking for a room, that is."
The bold man from yesterday raised his eyes from a stack of papers, his tired tone replaced with enthusiasm and friendliness upon recognition.
"I was looking for one, actually."
"Then you came to the right place! We only have standard rooms left, but I'll stay true to my word – 1 silver per night, regardless of the length of your stay. Cheapest you'll find in town!"
I silently exhaled in relief. It seemed my dwindling finances would suffice for a while.
I thanked the man - Arthur - who gave me a key from under the counter, and personally showed me to my room.
He also introduced me to the facilities on the way there.
"That's the dining room. That's where the bar is, too. Our inn serves breakfast and dinner."
"Those two doors right there lead to the baths. They are open all day long, although in summer, we only heat the water in the evenings and mornings- oh, the left door is for men, by the way. If you're too drunk to read that sign, we take no responsibility for any physical harm that comes to you, hur hur."
After a brief tour, and one set of stairs later, I arrived at a small room with a bed, a small table, and a couple of drawers.
"Been ages since I had any thieves here, but just to be safe, try not to leave anything too valuable lying around."
The man flashed me one last friendly smile.
"Well, enjoy your stay, and let me know if you need anything! I'll see you soon."
With those parting words, the inn keeper went back downstairs.
I threw my backpack under the bed, and finally sat down.
I couldn't help but open the panel for a moment, closing it again after throwing a quick glance at the number '1046'.
After what felt like the longest sixteen-odd hours of my life, I finally had a quasi-permanent shelter, a place to sit down and think.
Of course, I couldn't just relax – time, after all, was not on my side.
But I realized blindly rushing forward, with neither a plan or a moment of rest, would only lead to a worse outcome. Perhaps I wouldn't even survive in this world for 1046 days.
For a moment, I wondered what would happen if I died before the time was up, but quickly discarded such useless thoughts.
Rather, resisting the temptation to lay down and relax for a bit, I stood up, leaving further planning for after I went to my last destination for this day.
***
I stood in front of a white brick structure. It was larger than most houses I've seen on the way, yet still not even half as large as the Blue Mushroom Inn.
Still, the sleek roofing, the pristine walls, and the polished wooden door all gave this place a certain aura of refinement.
In front of the door stood a large wooden sign, with a symbol engraved on it – a sword, a bow and a staff all crossed at their center.
Just as I was about to enter, the door opened.
The men who exited just so happened to be familiar – they were the four men carrying the sack earlier, the one reeking of goblin blood.
Even having cleaned their armor, they still gave off a faint iron scent, yet their sack was gone, and their spirits greatly increased.
Passing by the party, I made my way into the Pine Harbor branch of the Adventurers Guild.
The reception area matched what I'd expect from an adventurers guild in some MMO, albeit one in a very low level area.
To my right I saw a big wooden board, with a few dozen notices pinned, occupying roughly a third of its surface.
Across the reception hall, filled with a few tables and chairs, was the reception desk, occupied by a single short-haired brunette woman, wearing the official guild attire, and a dead-eyed expression of unfathomable boredom.
The hall itself was empty, barring a fluffy black cat that decided to make one of the smaller tables into his temporary bed.
"Welcome to the Adventurers Guild. How may I help you?"
As I approached the desk, the woman raised her head, greeting me in a monotone voice.
'Amelia did tell me this town was quite peaceful… Still, I think the average receptionists at the local DMV were more energetic. I guess that goblin raid really was something special around those parts.'
Anyway, I was here to get some information, not socialize.
"Hello. My name is Sebastian. I'd like to ask a few questions."
The reception lady looked at me with unblinking eyes, before asking.
"Credentials?"
"Huh?"
The receptionist just sighed.
"We provide service to registered adventurers. If you wish to get information, you have to be registered. Of course, if you want to post a request, registration is optional."
"I… erm… how can I register?"
I didn't expect my final hurdle today to be bureaucracy, but, well, what could I do? I wanted to get at least something out of my trip here, so I might as well handle the registration, too. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or would it be "in for a copper, in for a gold" in this world?
With an unchanging expression, the woman took out a couple of papers from under her desk.
"Can you read and write?"
"Yes."
Thankfully, Sebastian seemed to have had both reading and writing skills, which automatically transferred to me.
"Alright. Do you have any existing identification token or certificate?"
"...no."
"Alright. Please fill this paper, then answer a few questions."
With the emotional range of her voice roughly matching that of a machine, she gave me a long piece of paper - rough to the touch, and more rigid compared to modern paper - as well as some kind of bulky metal pen.
I glanced at the window, inwardly sighing at the rays of light attaining a noticeable shade of red, and began filling the long form.
"Excuse me. I grew up in the swamp with my father. What do I write here?"
"Just fill in the name of the swamp."
From time to time, I would ask questions, and receive the same type of uninterested answers.
I felt like I could fill in the details of some random anime character, and the lady in front of me would just scan the form with her tired eyes and throw it back into the pile.
Still, I decided to faithfully fill in most of the things I knew from Sebastian's memories, obfuscating just a few details regarding his origin.
"Sebastian from.. the Gloom Swamps. Alright. Please answer a few questions."
When I finished filling the form, her reaction (or lack thereof) was exactly as expected.
"Do you have any combat experience?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Are you a Path-bearer?"
"No."
"Alright. Do you know any combat Techniques?"
"Yes."
"Alright. This should be a- wait, did you just say yes?"
"Yes."
For the first time, the receptionist showed some form of emotion, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
"Are you telling the truth? If you're another one of those kids calling their weird swing a 'Technique', I swear…"
She threw a threatening look at me, an expression of scepticism remaining firm on her face.
"I do. I know two techniques."
This time, it was me who replied in a flat tone, which had already infected my speech midway through this conversation.
The women just sighed, before putting down the papers and standing up.
"Come with me."
She put a small wooden sign on the counter, indicating her temporary absence, and made her way to one of the nearby doors. I quickly followed.
Making her way halfway through the corridor, she opened another, heavier door – one which led to an inner courtyard.
Before I could even make my way outside, I heard a booming male voice, its tone containing a hint of tiredness.
"No, Jane. You can't go early today. There's less than an hour left for your shift, anyw-"
"Harold! We have a new guy. Says he knows two battle techniques."
"Ehem! Jane, can I have his form please?"
The courtyard was half a dozen meters wide, and nearly twice as long, encompassing most of the structure's land – although the courtyard was only enclosed by the building's inner walls on three sides, its back half was surrounded by a tall brick wall, one that wasn't visible from the front entrance.
Inside stood a few training dummies, as well as a couple of archery targets at the far end.
In the middle stood a massive man with curly brown hair with a few gray strips, his muscular figure clad in heavy plate armor, and a massive steel shield in his hand.
Judging by all the sweat on his tan face, he was likely in the middle of a training session.
"I'll go back to the reception. I'm sure it has quite a crowd gathered by now. Wouldn't want to leave them waiting."
Her words dripping with poison, the woman shot one last look at the big man, before handing him the paper and heading back to her desk.
"I'm… sorry you had to see that. Name's Harold! I'm the leader of this branch. Now, give me a minute…"
His eyes slowly scanned through the form.
"Sebastian… from the Gloom Swamps?"
Harold couldn't hide his surprise. Then, he squinted his eyes.
"Mind telling me the rules of the swamp?"
"The… what?"
Harold's brow burrowed harder, but he soon answered in an even tone.
"Those who hunt in the swamps know its rules. Those who don't, usually don't live long enough to learn them. You claim to have grown up there. So, would you mind telling me at least a few of those rules?"
This question really stumped me at first. For a moment, I thought the swamps actually had some kind of complex area effects, like some elite dungeon in an MMO RPG. However, upon hearing the elaboration, I inwardly sighed in relief.
"Try to stay away from the visible fog. If you have to go through, hold your breath as long as you can. A few breaths won't kill you, but the poison builds up. Stay away from the crooked trees, especially those that seem to move when there is no wind. If you see any movement in the water, turn around and run as fast as you can."
"Hmm… sounds like you did live near the outskirts, at least."
Had I been asked this question earlier, I would have no clue how to respond.
However, during my trip today, I slowly unlocked a few more of Sebastian's memories.
I was very careful not to focus too hard on anything in particular, and tried to avoid anything that had to do with Sebastian, his father, or people in general. Instead, I focused on the more general bits and pieces of knowledge that comprised Sebastian's 'common sense'.
Sebastian, having grown up at the edge of the swamp, had learned a bit about it – although going in alone was strictly forbidden, his father did instill the basic survival principles in him.
"Alright then, kid. Show me what you can do."