As the evening wore on, Kael'tar found himself sitting outside the hut again, staring at the stars. The faint hum of nocturnal insects filled the air, a soothing backdrop to his chaotic thoughts.
Thirty silvers… and I felt something akin to excitement. How laughable.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Have I truly fallen so far?
But another part of him, quieter yet insistent, whispered a different truth. Perhaps it's not about the coins. Perhaps it's about something more… fundamental.
It wasn't just the money. It was the principle of it.
He had always prided himself on his strength, his power, his ability to control his own destiny. And now? He was celebrating scraps.
But then he remembered the look on his mother's face—the pride in her eyes, the warmth in her voice.
It wasn't the silver or the boar meat that mattered to her. It was him.
Kael'tar scoffed, shaking his head. "Sentimental nonsense," he muttered.
Still, he couldn't deny that the small moment at the dinner table—Ryn's joy, his mother's pride—had left a mark.
Kael'tar exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "What are you doing, Kael'tar?" he muttered to himself.
Kael'tar adjusted the straps of his worn satchel, grimacing at the dull ache in his ribs as he stepped outside the hut. He intended to head to the fields to continue his training under the guise of manual labor, but his mother intercepted him, arms crossed and a stern look in her eyes.
"Absolutely not," she said firmly.
Kael'tar raised an eyebrow. "Not what?"
"You're not going to the fields," she said, crossing her arms. "You're still bruised and battered, and those wounds haven't even begun to heal properly. You need rest, not hard labor. You could barely lift the bucket of water yesterday."
Kael'tar opened his mouth to protest, but his mother raised a finger, silencing him.
"No arguments. If you're feeling restless, go take a walk around the village market. Stretch your legs, but nothing strenuous."
Kael'tar opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw her determined expression.
Arguing with this mortal woman would be a waste of time, and, truthfully, he was curious about the market. He had yet to see much of the village beyond the fields and the forest.
He sighed heavily, feeling his pride take another hit. "Fine. If it'll stop your nagging."
His mother smiled, apparently unfazed by his tone. She reached into a small wooden box on the shelf and pulled out a leather pouch. She handed it to him with a soft smile.
"This is the thirty silver Haron gave us," she said. "You earned it, so it's yours to keep."
Kael'tar hesitated, frowning as he took the pouch. "I don't need it. You should keep it for the family."
"Nonsense," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. "You worked hard for it, and we'll manage just fine. Go on now. Get yourself something nice."
He stared at the pouch, feeling a pang of confusion. Thirty silver could feed their family for months, yet she was giving it to him without hesitation. He couldn't comprehend it.
Kael'tar hesitated, his grip tightening on the pouch. He didn't understand. In his previous life, no one had ever given him something for nothing. Everything was a transaction, a means to an end. Yet here was this woman, struggling to make ends meet, giving him what little they had without a second thought.
"…Fine," he said again, shoving the pouch into his satchel. "But don't blame me if I buy something useless."
She chuckled. "Just don't come back with a goat or something."
The village market was underwhelming, to say the least.
The market was a short walk from their home, and as Kael'tar approached, Kael'tar had half-hoped for something reminiscent of the bustling trade centers in Sky City, with their shimmering stalls and exotic wares. Instead, he was greeted by uneven dirt paths, rickety wooden stalls, and the faint smell of livestock.
He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked. "Why did I even bother getting my hopes up?"
The market was sparsely populated, with a handful of villagers haggling over produce, fabrics, and trinkets.
Kael'tar wandered aimlessly, his eyes scanning the wares. Nothing stood out as particularly interesting, but he supposed that was to be expected in a place like this.
A few villagers greeted him with polite nods or hesitant smiles, clearly still unsure of the "changed" Carseain.
His gaze drifted to the pouch at his side, the silver coins jingling softly with each step. He stopped, opening the pouch and staring at its contents.
Thirty silver.
In his former life, this amount wouldn't have been enough to polish his boots. Yet here, it was a small fortune, enough to sustain a family of three for five months.
His brow furrowed in confusion.
'Why would she give this to me?'
For a family like theirs, thirty silvers could feed them for five months. It didn't make sense to him. In his old life, wealth was hoarded, guarded, and used to exert power. Yet here, his mother had handed it to him freely, expecting nothing in return. He couldn't comprehend it.
Mortal humans are truly baffling.
He glanced around at the villagers, their simple lives and unassuming faces. They didn't hoard wealth or pursue power—they simply existed, finding joy in small things.
How can they live like this?
As he continued walking, his attention was drawn to a stall selling what appeared to be roasted chestnuts. The scent was surprisingly enticing, and his stomach growled in response.
The vendor, an older man with a weathered face, grinned as Kael'tar approached. "Ah, young Carseain! Fancy some chestnuts? Freshly roasted!"
Kael'tar hesitated. He'd never purchased food before—it was always served to him without question in his former life. He pulled out a silver coin, holding it up.
"How many can I get for this?"
The vendor's eyes widened in surprise. "A silver? You'd get the whole basket, lad! But I'll not overcharge you. Here, take a handful for just thirty copper."
Kael'tar frowned, unused to such generosity. He handed over a copper coin and took the chestnuts, the vendor thanking him warmly.
He walked away, nibbling on a chestnut as he pondered the strangeness of mortals.
They were so… trusting.
As he made his way through the market, Kael'tar couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and unease. This world was so different from the one he had ruled—a world where power and fear dictated every interaction.
But here, with his pouch of silver and a handful of roasted chestnuts, he felt something he hadn't experienced in a long time: simplicity.
It was humbling, maddening, and, in some inexplicable way, oddly comforting.