Chapter 213: Words of a Child
The next few days flashed by, filled with new faces and experiences. After another talk with Helron, Bilev, the innkeeper, begrudgingly allowed me to remain in the room, albeit with the promise I would pay him back once I became an adventurer.
That was unfamiliar water for me, but I had no one to confide in. Money had never been a concern until now. Heroes received things as "gifts," and slaves were lucky to receive whatever scraps their masters remembered to give them. Trithe had once offered to take me shopping, claiming it was a delightful experience shared between women, but it had somehow never happened.
I was on slightly firmer ground when it came to adventuring. According to Soltair, our journey was nothing short of an epic adventure, and we were exemplary adventurers. But here, they seemed to talk about "adventurers" as an occupation, or at least a structured job. Helron was a guildmaster, which seemed to be a position involved in organizing various requests and parties. With the little I gleaned from Tana and Sorrin, adventurers were ranked by their power and experience and allowed to take on specific quests for money. It wasn’t quite the romantic portrayal Soltair always talked about, but it seemed fairly simple and reasonable to me.
At first, I was reluctant to commit to anything of the sort, as it increased the risk of exposing myself. But, if I wanted to recover, I would be forced to continue using magic, which meant being known as a mage. Rather than a solitary, unpredictable threat, wouldn’t it be better to embrace it? For the first time, I would be able to support myself with a real job and honest money, without selling myself or relying on the mercy of others. It was an opportunity for a new type of freedom, one I was unexpectedly eager to explore.
Tana and Sorrin left with Helron early in the week, returning to gather the rest of their party. Like other adventurers, they were based in Heartland, but frequently traveled all through the surrounding region, hunting monsters, gathering materials, or escorting merchants. It was a week-long journey to Heartland from Westfall Village, which gave me plenty of time to prepare to meet the party.
Ever since that first excursion, I made it a point to get out of the inn for a few hours every day, walking around the village and enjoying the sun. Occasionally, I’d venture out into the forest, although never in the direction I arrived from, and I always returned well before nightfall. But even with all my caution, there was a constant feeling of being watched, which left me perpetually uneasy.
On the fifth day following the adventurer’s departure, I was in the forest, meditating on a stump. The spring weather was mild, with hardly a cloud in the sky, and I spent at least as much time soaking in the warmth as cycling mana through my soul. The dungeons of High Valley and the Divine Throne were cold and damp, and I found simply bathing leisurely in the sun nearly addicting. A slight breeze ruffled my long, scarlet hair, gently lifting the silky strands from my shoulders and splaying them in the air behind me. Even the Sunpurge felt cool, and the constant ache of my soul was hardly noticeable.
Taking hold of my staff, I gathered my mana and began to cast, weaving small, intricate runes as easily as breathing. They didn’t form any particular spell, simply drifting through the air like dandelion seeds for my own enjoyment. Combined, they held a portion of the mana needed for a first-circle spell, but it was all I could muster at the time.
"Starlight!"
The sudden, childish voice scattered my thoughts, and the glittering runes popped like bubbles. Opening my eyes, I caught sight of a young Foxkin boy, perhaps ten or eleven, standing at the edge of the small clearing, watching me with wide eyes. Behind him, a girl of the same race, a year younger, tugged at his shirt, clutching a string doll in her other hand. They shared the same rusty hair color and hazel eyes.
They spoke Beastkin, and were children from one of the three Beastkin families living in Westfall Village. Although I was nervous around their parents, these two could somehow put me at ease, and often visited while I practiced or took my walks around the village. The boy was called Ror, and the girl Sari.