Having made a resolution to figure out how to earn some silver and obtain a magical beast core, Lennox quickly headed to the bathroom attached to his attic quarters.
The bathroom was now surprisingly spacious, with polished wooden floors, a gleaming porcelain sink, and a large clawfoot bathtub. A faint lavender scent lingered in the air, a reminder of the tavern's refurbished state.
When he turned the brass tap, hot water flowed freely, filling the air with gentle steam. Lennox let the warm water wash over his face and hands, savoring the rare comfort.
A clean, soft towel waited on a nearby rack, and he dried himself off before examining his reflection in the large, polished mirror above the sink.
His reflection stared back—a young man, barely seventeen, with sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, and clear brown eyes that held a flicker of cautious determination.
His skin was fair, with a faint flush from the steam lingering on his cheeks. His chestnut hair, slightly wavy and tousled from sleep, fell just above his eyebrows, adding a boyish charm to his otherwise serious expression. Though his build was lean, there was a wiry strength to his shoulders and posture, hinting at an untapped potential.
He adjusted his coat and ran a hand through his slightly tousled chestnut hair. It was time to face the world outside the Mystic Tavern.
He made his way downstairs to the tavern's newly refurbished kitchen, the polished countertops gleaming under the soft glow of lantern light.
Finding a small loaf of leftover bread and a jug of clean water, Lennox settled at a sturdy wooden table.
The bread was dry but edible, and the water was refreshingly cool. He ate in silence, his thoughts racing through the challenges ahead.
Once finished, he adjusted his slightly oversized coat, straightened his boots, and took a steadying breath before heading for the tavern door.
With a sharp exhale, Lennox pushed open the tavern door and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The polished wooden sign of the Mystic Tavern creaked slightly in the breeze above him. He paused, taking in the sight of Greywater stretching out before him.
The chill in the air hinted at the tail end of winter, though the sun was beginning to assert its presence. Wisps of mist clung to the cobbled streets, slowly dissipating as golden light filtered through the clouds.
Overhead, the sky was a pale blue canvas streaked with faint gray clouds, and the faint smell of damp earth mingled with wood smoke from nearby chimneys.
Greywater was already alive with activity despite the early hour. Its narrow, cobbled streets were lined with wooden buildings that leaned slightly, as though perpetually bracing against the wind.
The people were a kaleidoscope of styles: adventurers in patched leather armor with weapons strapped to their backs, merchants in bright tunics and flowing cloaks embroidered with sigils, and common folk wrapped in roughspun wool cloaks and practical boots. Some even wore peculiar hats adorned with feathers or metallic charms.
Lennox's attention was soon drawn to the various forms of transport navigating the streets. Strange beasts lumbered alongside carts and wagons, their scales glinting faintly in the morning light.
One creature, resembling a six-legged lizard with vibrant green patterns, carried a merchant's cart strapped to its broad back. Another, a birdlike creature the size of a horse with glossy black feathers, trotted past, carrying a cloaked rider on its saddle.
Lennox's ears picked up snippets of conversations in a language that sounded alien yet strangely familiar, as if the words brushed against memories he didn't know he had. Thanks to the inherited memories from his predecessor, he understood everything perfectly.
"Fresh fruits from Arvendel!" one vendor called, holding up vibrant green apples that shimmered faintly in the light.
"Genuine enchanted trinkets! Wards against curses and charms for good fortune!" another bellowed.
Meanwhile, children darted between market stalls, their laughter rising above the clamor. Hooded figures slipped through the shadows of alleyways, and somewhere nearby, a bard was strumming a lute with surprising skill.
As Lennox wandered into the town market, his eyes suddenly caught sight of a small weapons stall run by a burly man with one eye and arms like tree trunks. On a velvet cloth beside polished daggers and gleaming swords sat a row of crystalline objects, each glowing faintly—one red, one green, and one pale blue.
His breath caught in his throat. The crystals pulsed with an inner light, like tiny hearts beating softly.
"What… are those?" he asked before he could stop himself.
The vendor's good eye swiveled toward him, and a gravelly chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Those, lad, are magical beast cores. Rank One, all of 'em. Harvested from beasts stronger than most men can handle. Dangerous work, expensive reward. These little beauties power enchantments, potions, and sometimes—if you're lucky—they can even enhance a weapon."
Lennox swallowed. So this is what I need for the tavern upgrade.
"How much?" he asked hesitantly.
The vendor's chuckle turned into full-blown laughter. "For a Rank One core? Ten gold coins, minimum."
Lennox's stomach plummeted. Ten gold coins? That was an entirely different league from the silver coins mentioned in his beginner quest.
"Don't look so shocked, boy. You'd need a team of seasoned adventurers and a heap of luck to bring down a beast carrying one of these."
Muttering a quick thank-you, Lennox backed away from the stall, his mind racing. Ten gold coins? I'd need to sell my soul—or several organs—to even get close to that amount.
Turning away from the stall, Lennox continued down the street, his mind still spinning. So, cores are expensive and guarded like treasure. It also looks like fighting a magical beast head-on is definitely off the table unless I want to become breakfast for some oversized wolf with glowing eyes.
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked on, observing the strange, vibrant life around him. A street performer drew a crowd with bursts of flame from his fingertips, while a robed woman nearby offered tarot readings under a tattered canopy.
Lennox paused near a bakery stall, his stomach growling at the smell of freshly baked pastries.
"A silver coin for a meat pie, love," the baker said with a grin.
Lennox backed away slowly, clutching his handful of copper coins like they were the crown jewels. Money is definitely going to be an issue.
As the morning sun climbed higher, Lennox eventually wandered towards the outskirts of Greywater. Here, the chaos of the market square gave way to quieter streets and ramshackle houses with crooked roofs. Adventurers and mercenaries loitered near notice boards plastered with quests.
One notice caught Lennox's eye: 'Wanted: Gather Moonlit Sage Herb from Ebonridge Foothills. Reward: 5 Silver Coins.'
"Plants," Lennox said aloud. "Plants don't bite, scratch, or breathe fire. I could gather plants."
But a sharp laugh behind him shattered that fleeting hope.
"Oh, they bite all right," said a wiry young man with a bow slung across his back. "Moonlit Sage grows in patches guarded by Ember Wasps. Nasty buggers. Sting feels like molten lava running through your veins. You planning to harvest herbs, kid? Might as well write your will now."
Lennox sighed and trudged away, muttering, "Even plants want to kill me in this world."
Eventually, his wandering led him to Greywater's edge. Beyond the scattered cottages and weather-beaten fences lay the wild frontier—the distant silhouette of the Ebonridge Mountains clawing at the sky. The forest at their base was a dark, impenetrable wall of green.
Lennox stared at the untamed expanse and felt the weight of his situation settle in his chest.
He wasn't strong enough to hunt beasts, too broke to buy a core outright, and apparently too cowardly to wrestle with homicidal shrubbery.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
He sighed and decided to return to his tavern.
But just as he was almost half-way there, his gaze caught a small pawn shop nestled between larger buildings. The wooden sign above the door read Greywater Exchange. Behind the glass window, trinkets, enchanted jewelry, and ancient-looking baubles glittered faintly.
It was then that a spark of an idea flickered in his mind.
Pawning something. I can pawn something valuable.
The tavern attic had been filled with old trinkets, furniture, and dusty heirlooms. Surely something there would fetch a decent price.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he muttered, hurrying faster toward the tavern. "Time to do some treasure hunting in my own attic."