He stumbled his way out of the room. His balance was off most of the time. By keeping his right hand on the wall, he managed to guide himself through the dark corridor after unlocking the door. His vision often failed him, but with each passing minute, he could feel better just by breathing fresh air.
The wood creaked under his heavy steps, he could hear muffled whispers behind the thin walls.
Staring at the old carpet he dragged his feet in, he noticed how much time, moths and rodents had damaged it. He could smell the perfume of mold gnashing at the rotting walls, never did he see something else than a flower wither. He noticed once more how preserved he was kept from the outside world.
He sunk his toes in the decomposing carpet and thanked his freedom for the wonderful details he discovered each second his eyes allowed him to see.
Wearing nothing else but an underpants he found by his bedside, he swallowed his pride and kept the slow pace of his steps steady. As a prince, most of his staff had already seen him stark naked, he wouldn't bother becoming modest of his body in front of strangers.
Arthur was now Lance, a completely different person, a sociable one that would never tremble to hear a new voice or his. He tried to locate Bast's voice, her loud laugh at least. He could only tell she was nearby.
The structure he was in was far from being as big as his room, the corridors were narrow and the brown shades mixed with the ochre ones gave off an oppressing feeling, the few particles of light that allowed light to pass through the old planks enabled him to calculate when he had to turn left or right.
He made sure to stand straight and proud before pushing the door at the bottom of the interminable corridor. There was no lock nor knob on it, a lot of light came through the used planks, like the constant noise coming from behind it instinctively pushed the boy forward.
Staggering his way through the door frame, many stopped breathing at the sight of the flawless body, the immaculate chest, and the face that suited everyone. He looked like a perfectly carved sculpture that never aged.
Many faces turned several shades of red darker or hid their mouth their cutest way when they saw the unexpected.
Still, his dark glare and the difficulty he had moving forward while not reacting, to everyone's surprise, did shock the entire hostel. To their illogical reaction, they resumed their activities once Bast, seemingly taking care of the matter, stood up.
"Lance, my boy! Finally awake, huh? You've scared us big time!"
She moved in haste, towering above all heads, and avoided the ceiling beams with ease. She hurriedly took off her wide cloak and offered it to Arthur.
The place was crowded, the myriad of new faces, snarls, yells, and laughs lit the boy's mood for an instant before he resumed his grief. He was guided to a specific table, an oval one with large cuts, traces of fat, and evaporated alcohol. A group of six people was already waiting for him to sit when the wyrmfolk spoke.
"Come introduce yourself. Don't you see they're impatient to see your pretty face from closer?"
The light in the room and its liveliness triggered a short headache that made Arthur blink a few times. "This..."
A frank pat on his back woke him up from his dizzy state of mind, his cyan eyes shone with a dim glow no one could ignore.
"They are my guild, we're all from the same, hum, suburbs." She cleared her scaly throat before resuming. "They are my home and my family. I'm sure that if you let them know you better they'll be kind to you sweetie."
He scanned everyone's face once he noticed they looked nothing like the people he met in his entire life.
There was no tight bun caging wild hairstyles. No full body outfit that hid down to the hair on their forearms and tibias. He could see sharp teeth, ungracious toes, animal tails, and many things that made him doubt the Tadg brothers' fashion.
Soon, his eyes wandered over the ground and the thousands of deposits caused by the diverse fauna made sense to the very restrictive type of people who worked in the castle.
Bast's warm smile soothed his growing worries. 'Maybe there's no need to mistrust all of them.' He reluctantly thought.
Another hand pushed him while his legs jumped over a bench to avoid an imminent fall. He was confined in between two sweaty men who reeked all of their last meals. Their breath was enough to untie Arthur's tongue, he used his elbow to lean on the table with a speck of elegance.
"I am Lance Purplerat. I believe I just turned eighteen, I don't remember much, I'm sorry." He said, pointing at the back of his head. He understood how much the bandits knew before one uttered a word.
He was able to analyze a mage's micro-expressions, and grasping a normal person's response turned out to be nothing requiring effort to him.
Confidence was what coated every of his words even though he made sure to fluctuate his voice. Even though his hair was colored, the atmosphere around him was easy-going, the exclusive white mane of royal blood was a well-known piece of information. Tashran's citizens knew how stressful it was to carry the responsibilities of millions of lives, that's how they justified the abnormality to their children for thousands of years already.
"Ya were near the castle?" One with a crooked nose asked.
Arthur reluctantly nodded while replying. "Probably, but the brick that slammed my head unplugged many connections in there." He said, exaggerating an ample balancing. "I'd gladly tell you more once it's all fixed."
"Is he like Hampter?" One with brown feathers sprouting out of the tip of his ears asked Bast, concealed laughs resounded nearby until the woman shook her head.
"No, he's a little smarter than Hampter. Go fetch the cards, we'll play a game."
She secretly stared at a quiet girl sitting by the window. The girl hadn't batted an eye ever since he had entered the main room of the hostel. Her eyes parted ways, she seemed lost in a complex frame of mind which disabled her from reacting to her name.
With a brusque motion, a bunch of cards were spread all over the sticky table, they made sure to tell Arthur the rules and to omit some to ease their first game.
Other than a few numbers and colorful patterns, the dirty cards had nothing exceptional, but since they dared to underestimate Arthur's reasoning, he chose to prove them and Bast his worthiness.
It was my first playing a strategy game with strangers. His sisters had tortured him with years of utter defeat, until his first victory. Never for a decade did the five flowers manage to snatch back victory on what they considered a simple game.
Laughing at how naive they hoped he was, six cards were distributed to each participant. Arthur took a glance at his handful of symbols and put it face-down for the rest of the game, to avoid lazy eyes and loose tongues to tell the others what he could play. He was already suspicious about the waitress who had a fast-paced trot around the tables, remembering his cards were a child's play and helped him focus elsewhere than his sorrow.
At first, they were scoffing. No game was fun if every card they had at hand was great. It turned out that none of the best combinations was doable because of Arthur. The boy was retaining everyone's strategy in the palm of his hand, it was a first for the guild of thieves to grow bored over their favorite game.
When he felt the wet tummies slowly squeezing him, he let his loudest, uncovered sneeze blow his card, revealing the great mindset that clogged the entire game for an hour.
Since a yellowish, slimy liquid covered the table and the perfect set of cards, the men threw their terrible game face-down to avoid displaying their ridiculous defeat.
"Man! Too bad you ran out of luck!" The one with a crooked nose said, avoiding eye contact by shuffling the uncovered card with his. It was a fine way to not admit his loss, the man was soon followed by his friends and Bast.
One slammed his fist on the table, scattering a handful of silvery coins all over the place. It was a wordless command for another round of beer.
All could point out the boy had their missing card, and after a few minutes of drinking beverages, they understood the mastermind behind the boring game.
He could see the wyrmfolk's apprehension fading, it was slowly being replaced by something he wasn't able to identify. A feeling that had never before been shown to the caged prince. It was gratifying, devoid of malice or concern. It appeased his mind for a couple of breaths until he heard his belly grumbling.
It had been an entire day since his last meal, the acids of his stomach were attacking the organ itself when he shyly asked Bast for something to eat.
"Alright, but don't be picky." She simply said, her words carried a bit of sarcasm, implying his noble manners and the grace he had just to hold cards and look at others were too much for a thief.
'That's right Bast, I am but a piece of meat in front of predators, I have to erase every aspect of Arthur before they find me.'
The same moment he thought about his stealthiness, a group of armed guards barged in the hostel, their armors were so wide and rigid they had to make one shoulder enter the place at the time. One stepped forward and threw a bunch of flyers that parted ways with the gust of putrid wind that entered the main room.
Arthur pursed his lips and looked at Bast with wide-opened eyes, he was surprised to have the same reaction from her, hiding under her not-so-huge hands. All of the scales on her neck changed to a darker shade, it counterbalanced her size and hid her in plain sight.
Their mutual cover was crumbling. One was afraid of the guard because he was tracked by his family while the other never expected the royal guards to enter her measly home. The hundred-crown thief wasn't as brave as she had shown, as for Arthur, he had an overwhelming guilty conscience that made his heart palpitate.
People weren't rushing toward the papers at all. They were used to the back and forth already.
Alas, unexpectedly, there was no figure printed on the paper, no character they would be eager to recognize. Only a number, as wide as the paper and letters people couldn't read because of their education.
Arthur gulped down his saliva when a young woman with long pointy ears brought the sheet to the table, the royal emblem and the fancy writing style embellished every aspect of the prospectus and further stressed the boy.
"Madam Avila, could you please read it for me?" The girl asked politely, behind her stood a bunch of people with the same question burning their lips.
Bast cleared her voice before reading aloud. "To thee who shalt bring truth upon the prince's condition will be lavishly rewarded by the crown."
She lifted the paper high above her head and pointed at the only word in capital letters. "Alive." A term that usually stood with its antonym was now crowding every bit of space left on the page.