After a painfully boring hour of traversing the forest, Raphael was finally able to see sunlight again. He was now within sight of the village, which was a mere hundred meters away. The forest was on higher ground, so the muddy path he was walking on offered a wonderful view of the village structure.
It was bigger than what he expected, with more than thirty structures of all kinds - houses, a few bigger buildings and even what looked like a smithy.
'I won't have to travel to learn Blacksmithing,' Raphael though, smiling as he mentally added up all of the time he would save. He expected to have to level up a few times, before feeling safe enough to travel to the nearest town, but with a smithy in the village he could save valuable time and level both his character and profession.
Smoke was billowing out of some of the houses' chimneys. There was a wooden palisade surrounding the whole village, which included 8 towers constructed at an equal distance from one another. As he walked forward, the path underneath his feet slowly turned into a road, rough uncut pieces of stone lining it.
As he came up to the village entrance, he immediately stopped as two archers appeared at the nearby tower. Their bows were in hand, bowstrings stretched out with arrows pointed in his direction, ready to strike.
"Who goes there?" asked a third militiaman, that appeared beside the two archers. His leather armor looked in better shape than theirs, and he was was wearing a silvery badge in the form of two crossed pikes on his chest. He was probably the one in charge, or at least he looked the part.
"My name is Jiver Lefevre, sir. I am an adventurer." Raphael said, holding his hands in plain view. He did not want to risk an arrow to the knee this early on in the game.
The militiaman look him over, from head to toes, his gaze lingering on his left hand.
"If you're an adventurer, then why the heck are you carrying around meat with your hands." he said with a snort, looking doubtful.
"I am a Traveler…," Raphael said with earnesty, his chest puffing out a little bit.
The head militiaman was shocked, his lips forming an 'o', as he said, "Well why didn't you say so‽ Come forward to the gate, you may enter after proving your abilities."
Hearing the whole conversation, the two archers aimed their bows toward the ground, but still kept at attention, waiting for any sign of trouble.
The gate opened and the head militiaman walked to Raphael, a sleek and shiny shortsword visible in one of his hands.
"I'm sorry for this, but we don't have any other means of checking whether you're a Traveler or not, so if you want to enter, you'll have to be cut, so that we can see you regenerate," said the head militiaman.
Raphael sighed and silently complied, lifting up his right hand, palm up.
The militiaman raised his sword and placed it on Raphael's palm. With a clean motion, the shortsword slid back towards the militiaman, a shallow wound appearing on the hand. Under the village guards' curious gazes, the wound bled for a few seconds, before it started visibly healing itself.
Typically such a thing would not occur during combat, but as Raphael had willingly let himself be injured and was thus not in a Combat state, his Automatic Health Regeneration kicked in immediately.
The head militiaman's demeanor changed almost as fast as the wound healed. A smile now graced his face, as he warmly said, "Welcome to Blue River Village, Mr. Lefevre! My name is Ogden Burrows, and I'm the Chief Sentry of the local militia."
Ogden held out a hand, which Raphael accepted and shook, wincing at the slight pain from his right hand.
"Thank you kindly, Chief Sentry." he said, as they both entered the village, the gate closing behind them. "Would you be so kind as to tell me if there is a place where an adventurer such as myself may find lodging?"
"Why, of course, Mr. Lefevre. Go down the main street," he said, pointing to the left, where the stone road continued through the village. "About halfway through, you'll see an Old Hoss' Inn. It's the big building with a red sign on the front, you can't miss it!"
Raphael nodded and thanked the sentry, before turning away and heading down the main street. He looked at the buildings on both sides, mostly out of curiosity, as he had never had this experience in his previous life. While some of them were houses, the main street was mostly lined with various shops, each selling different wares and equipment. There was even a bakery, hidden between an apothecary's shop and a general goods store.
Standing in front of the inn, Raphael was dumbfounded as he looked at the sign that was hanging above the entrance. The uneven and poorly sculpted letters, covered with a white finish on top of the crimson background, were a sight to be seen.
"The Dwarf's Stubble Inn‽" he read out, his eyebrows scrunching together and ears twitching, "I've seen a lot of weird names, but at least they made sense…"
Pushing the front door open, he found himself in a lightly lit room. The inn's windows were made of an inferior glass and did not let in a lot of sunlight. There were half a dozen tables, each with a few chairs around them, but they were all empty. The only other human being was an elderly man who was busying himself behind the bar.
As Raphael walked towards the bar, the old man suddenly sniffed at the air and turned around with a speed that he should not have possessed at his age.
"What's that you've got in your hand, boy!" he yelled out, clearly enraged as he towards the boar meat in Raphael's left hand.
"It is boar meat, Mr. Hoss," Raphael answered matter-of-factly, "I meant no disrespect by carrying it inside, but I could not find a place to sell it before entering your wonderful establishment. Chief Sentry Ogden told me this is the best inn in the village, so I'm very sorry if I have offended you in any way."
The old man's wrinkled face softened a bit. He inspected Raphael and as he noted the rags that he was wearing, an idea started to form.
Leaning against the bar, thin hands with callused hands on top, Hoss continued with a much calmer voice, "Well, seeing as you're so well-mannered, how about I help you get rid of those steaks. I'm a bit peckish and it's been a while since I've had any game meat, so I'd be more than happy to give you a couple of silvers per piece."
The Thief looked at the innkeeper incredulously, before approaching the bar. His left hand holding out the boar meat within arm's reach, he smiled at the old crafty man.
"I'd be more than happy to help you, Mr. Hoss, but since I'm not that strapped for money, I'd much rather prefer something else in return for this wonderful meat."
"Really? And what did you have in mind?" Hoss asked, as his gaze was locked onto the succulent pieces of meat.
"Oh, nothing much…, just an introduction to the mayor." Raphael said, his teeth flashing as he smiled at the proprietor.
The old man reacted as if he had been slapped, visibly shaken.
He glared at the young man in front of him, holding it in for a few seconds before he finally yelled out.
"YOU WANT WHAT‽"