Although his state of emotions must have been invigorating; feeling the thick wad of Durs in his pocket, seeing a city surrounded with people that for some reason respected him. It was believable for him to be a little pretentious about it.
'What to do...? What to do...?'
He had enough Durs to do many things--he didn't know what he could spend them on, that wasn't included in the Doctrine, nor was the word "Durs" but perhaps it had something to do with money...?
In our terms we can break the city into three segments, large dilapidated regions on the thirds. This victorian cityscape in the seconds. And metallic - - - things that he could not yet fathom.
Therefore, as he slowly moved closer into the city, it seemed like the city itself would change and grow. The city wasn't alive, but it sure felt alive. The inner city - the second layer - was bustling with mirth, the people began to look more sophisticated. The housings on the sides had less space - they were separated by smaller streets and each victorian building was given attention to detail.
This was far different than the outskirts of the city, where each building only had detail for the layers representing the floors - with cement or bricks sticking out to separate a shift in flooring and the windows which were to follow.
It was clear to him now - there was a class - a caste system within the city. The closer towards the centre, the more sophisticated the people were, and the more detailed their buildings were. If it followed this trend - the wad of Durs in his pocket would do for much.
He would observe the things around him like a child seeing nature for the first time. The way the "aristocrats" would dress. The way they would walk.
Even more profane - he saw a carriage. This was actually something mentioned in the Doctrine: 'The Lord Walk'd Through The Barren Land On His Trusted Steed.' Though the trusted steed did not look as trustworthy in reality. It looked strange - almost eldritch. He shivered as he looked at it - for some reason it reminded of the rotted.
It was covered in many layers of textile. The only thing he could see was the fog forming around the mouth of the steed as it breathed heavily. The way that it stepped without lifting its legs. Its neck was pointed downwards - it looked to be in a trance. Its exhaustion was apparent, but there was a madness within it. A controlled wrath that could only be heard in its breath.
His head turned around immediately. He didn't want to see the creature any more. 'What a steed...'
...
Finally he sees something that he could mildly recognise. The word itself he could not recognise, but when he saw the words "Inn" he understood the words; speaking the meaning of them inside his mind without ever knowing them.
...
The man sitting at the desk was aristocratic in appearance - as much Noble as he could fathom, even though he was a simple man. It seemed every one dressed in a fancy way, and accordingly, the clerk didn't react to harshly on his appearance - but he did show respect for him.
"A night eh? I'll give you half price, Sir... ?"
The interior didn't fit the theme of the victorian detail - it was less authentic, looked shoddy without much detail. Rather, everything was built out of stone, different types of stone carved.
He expected a wooden interior - but then again, where would they get that abundance of wood? - - - after all, the only trees (outside of the facility) had been rotted.
He held out ten Notes - "I said half off!"
The clerk enraged at his proposal handed back half of them. Muttering beneath his breath, "A man of our Lord giving me ten thousand of them... how egregious!"
He didn't hear hear what the clerk said - but he made out the words, "Not" and "Ten thousand" Which made him even more excited.
...
The room was empty--but it had a bed, a window looking out on the street and even a desk overlooking the victorian street. It wasn't bad, but to him, it was extraordinary. A man who lived in the underground - a man who slept on the ground with the rotted. To have a bed!
He emptied his pockets on the desk - looking out in the street still seeing a crowded atmosphere.
"Ten... twenty... Two hundred..."
He held in his hand--if he counted correctly--at least a quarter of a million Durs.
First he felt incredibly... he couldn't explain the emotion.
But it slowly faded into confusion. 'If the food costed 5 Durs in the outskirts... and 5000 for a single night in right here...'
"There's no logic here!"
'Its almost as if they're purposefully keeping people in poverty...'
"Of course they are!"
'But that'd be outrageous!'
"And they are outrageous! What's so hard to understand?"
He left the desk overlooking all of the money in anger. "Hey, hey. Wasn't this a moral sin in the Doctrine?"
'No! Or yes, it is...'
Then he stared at money again.
'The hell am I to do about it... Who the hell is this lord too?'
In his mind he thought of far too many things. It was no surprise that he fell asleep as soon as he laid down - comfort filled him with surprise. He felt that he had slept on the hard ground for years, so this was good for a change.
In a state between dreaming and being awake - his mind wandered.
He wanted to settle down in the city. Become a simple vendor. But something pushed against it, instead he should become a successful business man - someone filthy rich.
His ambivalence had never been stronger regarding these issues, but which one was true?
He murmured in that state, "I have to free the people, I had been chosen to do so, thus I am the hammer of God"
He could not fathom speaking such a blasphemous thing - but he did. So he responded to himself.
'What are you, an idiot, of course I can't be chosen, I'm not chosen for anything.'
"But we are chosen, you are chosen."
'Who even are you - I'm thinking, but who are you?'
Then he fell to sleep...
***
The next morning he grabbed all his belongings and headed towards the inner city. He didn't have a conflict to solve, nor something to do there. But he was deeply interested in the way the city was built.
So he simply walked there.
Things weren't going to be that easy though... a lady spoke not far away, her thin and poverty ridden fingers pointing towards him. "That's him! That's him!