Chapter 104: [104] Wrong Face, Right Problems
Xavier leaned against the stone wall of the blacksmith’s shop, massaging his temples as another wave of pain crashed through his skull. The headaches had been constant since waking up in this frozen hellscape, coming at random times.
"Sorry, lad. Got no need for another pair of hands," the blacksmith said, not looking up from the sword he was hammering. "Specially not hands soft as yours. Come back when you’ve done some real work."
This marked the sixth rejection today. The tannery had laughed him out of the building. The stables had told him he’d spook the horses. The tavern wanted women servers not men. The lumber yard had taken one look at his slender build and pointed him to the door.
"Thanks for your time," Xavier said, pushing away from the wall.
The blacksmith grunted, hammer still rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Try the docks. They’ll take anyone with a pulse."
Xavier nodded and stepped back into Vykengard’s narrow streets. The city huddled inside its massive walls like a child wrapped in blankets against the cold. Buildings of dark stone and timber pressed together for warmth, their steep roofs heavy with snow. Smoke rose from countless chimneys, creating a hazy ceiling that trapped what little heat existed in this frozen world.
People hurried past, bundled in furs and thick woolens. No one lingered in the bitter cold. Merchants shouted prices from doorways rather than open stalls. Children darted between adults, playing some game involving colored stones and frozen puddles. Guards in silver-gray armor patrolled in pairs, their breath fogging around metal helmets.
A wagon loaded with split logs rumbled past, forcing Xavier against the wall. The driver didn’t spare him a glance.
"Move aside for the Rimeguard!"
Xavier pressed himself flatter as two armored figures strode down the street. Unlike the city guards, these warriors wore armor of bluish metal etched with frost patterns. Ice crystals seemed to form and melt in their wake. People scrambled to clear their path, bowing their heads respectfully.
When they passed, Xavier continued toward the market square. His stomach growled. The meager breakfast at the inn hadn’t been enough, but his dwindling coins demanded caution. Rachel had paid for their room, but her generosity had limits—especially after he’d destroyed her valuable sword.