Chapter 11: Titian Bank
Arah woke with a stretch, arms reaching overhead until his joints cracked. The morning chill bit through the tattered robe he still wore, the same one he’d stolen from a long-dead skeleton in the forest. He shook off the cold, then dropped to the floor to perform a few light warm-ups. A quick jump, a couple of practiced punch swings, just enough to loosen the muscles.
Today, he planned to head towards the city and explore. He was going to stay in this town for an unknown amount of time, so he might as well get familiar with its culture and routines.
His eyes fell to the spear propped beside the wall. For a moment, he considered taking it with him, but he had noticed the weird stares people had given him yesterday due to it; maybe it was bad manners to keep your weapon out on display.
Kren’s method of dismissing his soul beast came to mind. The man had dismissed his soul beast with a mere thought, since soul beast and soul weapon were not that different fundamentally. Perhaps... Arah reached inward and willed the spear to vanish. It shimmered once, then dissolved into sparks.
He smiled at this. The test was a success. He willed the weapon back, and it materialized in his palm naturally, although the process was slightly slower, so he had to be mindful of that if he got in a fight. With that, he nodded to himself and stepped out of the room.
The stench of strong liquor hit him instantly.
Looking for the source, he found Kren lying slumped on the couch, his mouth half open. If not for the rise and fall of his chest and his light snores, he might have been mistaken for a corpse.
He turned and headed for the door.
Just as Arah touched the door, Kren stirred.
"Don’t get lost, kid... stay outta trouble..."
The man grunted, hand fumbling weakly at his belt. With a drunken toss, a pouch landed at Arah’s feet.