While Rain discussed the details about the dragon and other filth, the nameless child wasn't idle either. He was given clean clothes and a towel so he could bathe. He wanted it himself — the stench coming off him was nearly unbearable. When the maid offered to help, he tried to politely refuse, but it didn't work. The woman was resolute. Despite the suffocating smell, she showed no reaction and calmly led him to the servants' washing quarters.
Inside were numerous bathing rooms and just as many copper and stone tubs, each designated for servants, guards, or higher-ranking guests. Without a word, the maid guided the boy into one of the rooms and, ignoring his embarrassed gaze, swiftly stripped off his filthy rags. They were beyond saving — she tossed them into a wooden bin meant for trash.
The tub had already been prepared: the water was warm and enveloping, with a gentle steam rising above it, carrying a pleasant scent — perhaps herbs. The boy stood frozen at the edge, naked and slightly disoriented. Not from shame — he didn't yet know what physical shame meant. It was just unfamiliar, uncomfortable to be so vulnerable before an adult stranger. But his thoughts were simple, pure. He didn't understand the concept of bodily embarrassment. After all, what child ever feels ashamed when being washed?
The once white, foamy water quickly turned dark — thick with the unseen filth of poverty. The maid's eye twitched ever so slightly. Not from surprise — she expected the grime to peel off in layers. No, it was a different reaction — to the boy's body itself.
Scars — uneven, old — covered his back, shoulders, and stomach. There were marks from beatings and cuts from something sharp — glass shards, rusty knives, or stones, perhaps. Some might have come from street fights, but most seemed to be left not by accident, but by someone's cruel will. And that made her insides tighten.
This should not be. Not on a child's body.
But they were there. And somewhere, right now, someone else was getting the same. Or worse.
The maid silently leaned over him, scooping water with a copper ladle again. She washed him gently, like her own, with heavy thoughts and fragile sympathy in her hands. Her movements showed experience — this wasn't her first time, not her first child. She looked no older than twenty, maybe a bit more. And maybe, somewhere in the city or in a past she tried not to remember, she had a child of her own.
After some time, she finally finished. The boy looked genuinely flustered — not out of shame or any inappropriate thoughts for his age — but from the situation itself. He felt awkward that someone had touched him while he was in such a pitiful, filthy state. But now it was over. He was clean. The water had washed off the layer of poverty, the stench of the streets, the marks of a vagabond life. Now, he smelled fresh, soapy, and light.
His skin was smooth and pale — almost like a baby's. If not for the bruises and scars scattered across his body, he might have looked flawless even among his peers. But the scars only highlighted the contrast — between his fragile appearance and harsh past, between who he could've been and who life made him become.
And his face… was made to break hearts one day. Even now, gaunt and sunken from hunger, there was something captivating about it. His features were fine, almost noble — as if carved with care. His hair, once matted and grimy, now shone with a clean bluish-black sheen. It fell smoothly, framing his head and revealing his forehead.
And then there were the eyes. Dark as pitch, so deep they seemed to swallow light. There was something unsettling in them — not grim, no — more like unknowable, the kind seen in those who encountered pain too early. But for now, it was just the gaze of a child. An ordinary child, who had simply seen too much pain and cold too soon.
— My goodness, you're definitely going to break more than a few hearts in the future! — she exclaimed with mock horror. — How can a child be both this cute and this… rugged? Oh dear, I hope my silly daughter doesn't fall for you! Though... I wouldn't blame her if she did.
The boy stared at her in confusion. His gaze was direct but slightly sluggish — as if still digesting what he'd heard. Finally, he managed:
— Um… anyway, thank you very much. I… I really appreciate it.
The maid smiled — or rather, smirked. There was something awkward and untrained in his words and tone. He was shy. Maybe only with her, or maybe with anyone who showed him warmth. He spoke hesitantly, awkwardly — and it only made him more endearing. He even blushed genuinely — like children blush when they're not used to kindness.
— You're so skinny! — she sighed sympathetically. — Well then, I absolutely have to feed you. Otherwise, my conscience will eat me alive and I won't sleep tonight. By the way… that basket you brought — where did you get it?
She squinted with mild suspicion.
— I remember the princess taking an identical basket — for her friend in the city. They say he used to visit the third level often… oh! — she clapped her hand over her mouth. — You didn't hear that! That was a secret… really, truly!
«Princess… so she really was a princess,» the boy thought.
«I should thank her… at least with words.»
He scratched the back of his head and replied awkwardly:
— She gave it to me. Said… the person it was meant for had died.
The maid raised her eyebrows in surprise, then exhaled heavily:
— Not surprising… I heard he was a knight assigned to the third level. Probably went… on a hunt. A pity. And poor princess.
She paused, a shadow of weariness crossing her eyes — like she had just been reminded how fragile even a noble life could be.
With that, they decided to end the conversation and headed to the servants' dining hall. It was quiet. Almost empty. Most staff had already returned to their duties, and the meal time had long passed.
Nothing particularly important happened — just food. Simple, warm, filling. The boy ate silently, with gratitude and a kind of reverence — as if afraid the food might vanish at any moment. He finished everything — even the adult portion. Without the basket he ate earlier, he likely wouldn't have been full. But now he was satisfied. He ended the meal with a cup of hot tea and honey. He'd never tasted honey before, but the sweet flavor was soothing and paired perfectly with the drink.
The maid watched him with a soft smile. He ate a little clumsily, sometimes spilling, always hurrying — but everything about him was childishly sincere. Like a hungry puppy who, for the first time, found himself in a home where no one chased him away. She picked up a towel and gently wiped his mouth.
Just then, a voice spoke behind them:
— Whoa, I barely recognized you, kid. I'm impressed, I'll admit.
It was Rain.
Clearly, his meeting with the king was over.
Approaching, he gave the boy a quick glance and then nodded at the maid:
— Thank you. You took excellent care of my student. Here.
He handed her a small pouch. Whatever was inside, her face lit up with joy. She bowed deeply, turned to leave, and at the doorway, looked back with a smile:
— Take care of yourself.
He didn't know what to say. He only nodded, a little embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Rain was already walking away, calling over his shoulder:
— Come on. We've got a lot to do today.
---
They left the palace and made their way to the city gates of the first level. The boy, now clean and full, looked around with curiosity and a faint trace of sadness.
What kind of people live here? — the question lingered in his eyes, and Rain seemed to read it without words.
— This level houses those responsible for the knights — their families, friends, loved ones, — he explained calmly. — It used to belong to nobles. But… let's say they paid the price for their greed. Now it's home to generals, some renowned scholars, and blacksmiths.
The boy knew little about his city, but he remembered that even generals once stood below the nobility.
What happened to them?
Rain didn't elaborate. He kept quiet, and the boy quickly lost interest in the past.
What was done, was done. No point picking at old wounds.
The first level was markedly different from the second, let alone the third.
There was almost no idleness. Children didn't run around shouting or playing pranks — they studied.
Some practiced sword techniques under instructors' watchful eyes, others argued passionately over books, forgetting the time.
Adults were rare, and when seen, it was mostly women — caring mothers chatting while never taking their eyes off their children.
The benches along the paths were roughly hewn from dark wood.
The stone-paved paths wound in intricate lines across the entire level.
Had the soil been fertile, it would have been covered in thick grass and blooming flower beds.
But the ground was stubbornly dry, and greenery was scarce — only a few shrubs managed to take root.
Rain and the boy quickly reached the gate leading outside the first level.
The guards barely glanced at Rain — more out of protocol than suspicion.
The boy was let through without a word, as no one wanted to delay a former general over trifles.
Only when the gates were behind them did the boy recall Rain had been at the royal palace today.
«So he really is someone important… I wonder where his palace is? Maybe he lives on the second level?» — the thought flashed in his mind.
But it came and went.
Soon, he'd forgotten it entirely.
Instead, his gaze was drawn to the food stalls. And that sweet smell — captivating. He noticed one stall selling something on a stick. Other kids looked delighted as they licked it and laughed, chatting away.
Rain noticed the fire in the boy's eyes and chuckled:
— We're already at the gate… Think one luwia stick won't hurt?
The boy nodded eagerly, as if life had become a little brighter.
Rain smirked, and they walked to the stall together.
The vendor — a middle-aged man with a thick mustache — wore a white coat, typical for cooks. Seeing Rain, his face lit up with a wide grin.
— Well, well! Look who's graced my humble stall!
Rain returned the warm smile and gestured the boy closer:
— Hey, old man Neil. Meet my new student… let's say, student.
Neil squinted at Rain, then looked at the boy with genuine surprise:
— Rain's student? That's a shock! I thought he wouldn't take anyone after the king himself… What's your name, kid?
The boy shrugged and opened his mouth to answer, but Rain gently cut in:
— We're in a hurry. You'll learn his name next time.
— Ha, as you wish. No payment today — consider it a treat from your old friend. On the house.
Rain gave him a meaningful look and sighed:
— If you insist...
Neil handed the boy a thin wooden stick with a glittering chunk of luwia.
The boy stared at it in confusion. Seeing his hesitation, Rain explained:
— Luwia is pollen collected from a rare flower. Sweet and nutritious. It's almost gone now — the soil here has died, nothing grows. But luwia doesn't need land. It can be stored forever, like dream-dust. Just don't expect to grow new flowers...
The boy nodded and cautiously licked the shimmering surface.
A strange sensation burst in his mouth — like a cool breeze brushing his tongue, leaving a refreshing sweetness reminiscent of honey, with a hint of mint and a faint floral aroma. The pollen melted instantly, like a cloud vanishing on the tongue, leaving behind a soothing chill and a sense of comfort — like being held close by someone gentle.
His eyes widened slightly. It was perhaps the first taste in ages that didn't reek of rot or dust.
Rain took one too, and together they walked toward the city's edge.
They didn't even notice when they entered the third level. The atmosphere thickened — heavy, sluggish. The air reeked of damp, age, and hopelessness. Among the few passersby were mostly elders, the maimed, women with dead eyes, and children too quiet for their age. This wasn't a place to live — it was where people waited to die.
The boy felt uneasy. Letting go of the past was hard.
Rain didn't want to linger either — whether for the boy's sake or the smell and heavy atmosphere.
They quickened their pace.
By the third gate stood dozens of knights, statuesque and silent. But they weren't what made the city a fortress. The massive, cyclopean walls loomed above, blocking the sky. They had defended the city for centuries, symbols of silent endurance. The knights said nothing — only nodded, letting Rain and the boy pass into the wild, empty land beyond.
They stepped forward — toward the plains.
— Stay close, — Rain said quietly, his voice firmer. — Fewer monsters… but they've gotten smarter. Stronger. One mistake — and you're gone.
— Where are we going? — the boy asked, glancing around nervously.
— Home, — Rain replied.
— Your home… is outside the city?
— Of course. See that plain, by the lake? At the foot of that cliff — there's a cave. I live there. Convenient place… especially if you don't want to be disturbed.
He smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in it.
— A creature used to live in the cave. Very old. Even dead, it stinks so much it scares off monsters — and people. Especially people. But hey, no one bothers me.
The lake he spoke of lay northwest of the city. The road there was considered relatively safe — not because it was free from danger, but because it led toward the Dark Forest. The forest itself was a natural barrier: its eerie trees repelled many monsters, keeping them from approaching the city. But accidents still happened. Nothing here was guaranteed.
The lake greeted the boy with silence and gloom.
Darkness clung to the water, seeping into everything with clammy cold. Visibility neared zero — it was like night had thickened especially here. He walked carefully, trying not to make noise, as if afraid to awaken something.
When he reached the shore, he paused and listened.
The wind rustled cold and biting, and the soft splash of water echoed strangely in his chest.
Nearby yawned a massive hole. Its mouth was black — like a maw ready to swallow anyone who got too close. Something ancient and alien exhaled from it — a darkness with its own breath.
The boy froze. He felt it — a presence.
The chill grew piercing. Even the air seemed to change — from calm to hostile, sharp. An invisible aura hung over the place, terrifying, repelling anyone with even a shred of self-preservation.
«I followed the wrong person…» the boy thought with a heavy sigh.
«Who in their right mind lives in a place like this?..»
Yet he remained. He stood at the edge of darkness and waited. Waited for Rain's signal.
Rain, smiling, passed him by, holding a torch in his hand.
The warm, yellow flame banished the lake's gloom, casting reflections on the water and lighting up the surroundings.
The lake was surprisingly clear and pure, with gentle ripples dancing across its surface. The blue water stretched so deep that the bottom couldn't be seen despite its crystalline clarity.
Rain didn't even glance at the breathtaking view. He aimed the torchlight toward a wide pit in the ground and smirked:
— Guests first.
The boy sighed, gave the lake one last look, and approached the pit.
Inside, a staircase spiraled downward into darkness. He began descending slowly, step by step.
«Why does it feel like I was kidnapped… and now offered as a sacrifice to some beast?» — his eye twitched at the thought.
But despite his anxiety, he kept going.
«About ten meters…», he estimated, peering down.
«A monster could definitely fit here...»
Reaching the bottom, the boy began to look around.
Shadows danced on the walls, caught by the light above. And when his gaze adjusted, his eyes widened in surprise.
The cave wasn't as dark as expected — it was generously lit by the same stones used in the first and second city levels. They emitted a soft, steady glow, as if light itself hid in the air.
The cave's interior was extravagant. Its size rivaled the grandest palace halls — no dampness, no crudeness, no feeling of confinement. It looked lived-in, furnished, even cozy… in its own way.
In the right corner, he saw what looked like a workshop: a heavy iron table, tools hung neatly on the wall — saws, swords, hammers, even a small anvil. Armor parts, fabric rolls, and sewing needles lay nearby. Everything needed for work — with both metal and cloth — was at hand.
In the left corner was a wide mattress, rough but clearly comfortable. Its cover looked like the hide of some beast.
«A fluffy monster,» the boy noted dryly.
But what drew his attention most was the trophy standing in the cave's center: the skeleton of a chimera. If not for its relatively modest size, he'd think it was a dragon's remains.
The bones glowed, as if carved from jade, fresh and untouched by time. From the skull's hollow eyes seemed to ooze darkness — thick and ominous. Even dead, the creature radiated an aura that sent chills to the core.
At that moment, Rain descended the stairs, casually glanced around the room, and smirked:
— Welcome to my humble abode. Though if we ever need anything — we'll have to climb back up. Didn't think that part through.
The boy nodded, then after a moment of thought, asked:
— Where will we eat?
«Seriously… this kid thinks only about food,» Rain thought with a grin.
He waved toward the stairs and shrugged:
— Upstairs. We only eat fresh meat — monster limbs. They may look nasty, but the taste… amazing.
And so, teacher and student finally arrived at the place where their journey would begin.