For now, I need to find somewhere to stay and a way to pay.
The thought lingered as I pushed back from the table and made my way toward the innkeeper. He was a burly man with graying hair, wiping down the counter with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times.
I stopped in front of him and met his gaze. "How much for a night?"
He barely looked up. "Two coppers."
I paused. Copper must be the lowest form of currency. I'll keep that in mind.
Reaching into my pockets, I found nothing but a few scraps of cloth and a small metal emblem—something I hadn't paid much attention to until now. It was smooth, slightly worn at the edges, but unfamiliar. Definitely not currency.
The innkeeper raised a brow. "You got coin or not?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "But I'll figure something out."
He let out a short chuckle. "A soldier without coin, huh? Well, if you're willing to haul a few barrels down to the cellar, I won't charge you for tonight."
I nodded. "That works."
He gestured toward the back, and within minutes, I was carrying heavy barrels down a set of creaking wooden stairs. It wasn't difficult work, just time-consuming. By the time I finished, my arms were covered in dust, and the innkeeper tossed me a small loaf of bread as a bonus.
"Next time, bring coin," he said, but there was no malice in his voice.
I took the bread and made my way to my room—a simple space with a small bed and a window overlooking the town. I sat on the edge, taking a bite of the bread and letting my mind drift.
I still had no clear path forward, but at least I had a place to sleep. Tomorrow, I'd figure out the rest.
***
The morning air was crisp as I stepped outside, the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke drifting through the streets. Highfall was already awake, merchants setting up their stalls and farmers hauling supplies.
I didn't make it far before I felt a pair of eyes on me.
A man leaned against a post near the market square, arms crossed as he watched me approach. He was built like a fighter—broad shoulders, rough hands, and the kind of stance that said he was ready for trouble. His clothing was worn but practical, and he didn't have the relaxed posture of a townsperson. An outsider, just like me.
"Didn't take you for the quiet type," he said, pushing off the post as I passed.
I stopped. "Do I know you?"
He grinned, but there was no warmth in it. "No. But I know your type."
The shift in his stance was slight but obvious. He wanted to test me.
I kept my expression neutral. "I'm not looking for trouble."
"That's good." He stepped closer, voice lowering. "But I think you already found it."
He swung without warning, a quick jab aimed at my ribs. I sidestepped, catching his wrist and twisting just enough to force him back. The movement was instinctual, precise—too precise for an average soldier.
A few people had stopped to watch, murmuring among themselves. The outsider scowled, shaking out his wrist.
"You're fast," he muttered.
I didn't respond.
He studied me for another second before letting out a short laugh. "Fine. I had to be sure."
"Sure of what?"
"That you weren't just some wandering grunt." He rolled his shoulders. "Guess I was right."
I wasn't sure what to make of that, but before I could press him further, another voice cut in.
"Causing trouble already?"
I turned to see Calder approaching, hands in his pockets but eyes sharp. He looked between me and the stranger before shaking his head.
"Figures." He sighed. "Vassek, meet Rainer. He's been poking around town same as you."
Rainer gave a small, mocking bow. "Pleasure."
I didn't return the gesture.
Calder clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you sorted with something useful to do."
I glanced at Rainer once more before following Calder toward the edge of town.
"Hope you're good with your hands," Calder said. "Because I've got a way for you to make a little money. You ever done any work in the woods?"