It was surreal that I only remembered I was hungry after catching a whiff of freshly baked bread as I walked by a bakery. I guessed it was because I had endured far greater pains, the pang of hunger had become barely noticeable. I hadn't eaten anything at the small feast dedicated to me yesterday. Unfortunately, the awakening ritual had to come before the eating. And so, when the orb failed to produce any of the bright colors, my angry father had me dragged out of the hall.
I swallowed my saliva as my mouth watered at the pieces of bread on display. The baker immediately caught sight of me, and he looked confused. I had been getting that kind of look ever since I left the busy harbor for the quieter streets of the town. I was dressed in what was unmistakably noble clothing, but it was torn and bloodied. I looked like I had survived a bloody ambush and been thrown into the water.
I patted my waist even though I knew I had nothing on me. Sir Roland would sometimes give me a little silver to spend on the rare occasions I was allowed out, but I always kept the pouch in my room. My parents never gave me accessories I might have sold to a jeweler. And even if I had brought something with me, I would have lost it in the chaos at the river.
As I looked at my waist, I noticed my leather shoes. I still had them on, and although battered, they weren't broken. Unlike my legs, torso, and head, my feet were spared from the worst of it. I remembered passing a shoemaker's shop. Urged by hunger, I immediately retraced my steps.
"It has taken quite a beating, young master," the moustached, lanky shoemaker said of my shoes. Grains of sand and droplets of water poured out as he lifted one of the pair. "How much do you expect from this?"
"I am not knowledgeable about this sort of thing," I admitted. But since people kept recognizing me as a noble just by looking at my shoes, I figured they still had value despite their condition.
"A silver coin," he blurted out after a pause. He seemed a little nervous, I noticed.
"If you say so, Master Shoemaker," I replied. "I thank you for this. I will visit you again, once I have my affairs in order."
The shoemaker looked even more nervous now. I allowed myself a subtle smirk. In a world where magical abilities were confined to the noble class, the commoners behaved.
"I'll give you three silver for these, my lord," he said, chuckling. "I see now that the leather... it's quite high-quality. Rare to find. I think I can reuse it."
My eyes lit up, and the smirk turned into a wide smile. I unbuckled the belt holding my pants, nearly revealing something shameful before I caught them from slipping.
"You wanted the leather, you say. How much for this?"
The belt had even less damage, being a smaller and firmer piece. I left the shop with five silver in tow. But barefoot and clutching my too-large pants to keep them from falling, I looked even more out of place than before.
After filling myself with hot bread from the baker, I turned to my outrageous appearance. It baffled me how cheap peasant clothes were. For the same price as my battered shoes, I bought a full set of humbler clothing and a decent pair of boots.
I thought of buying a thick cloak, but then I thought—what for? The cold no longer bothered me anyway. The traits wouldn't just help me in times of trouble; they would also improve my everyday life.
Fully clothed and hunger sated, I made my way to my original destination. I had asked a dockworker who to inquire with if I wanted to get on the ship, and he had directed me to a certain "Sir Lawrence," who was staying at a tavern called the Screaming Seagull.
The tavern wasn't far from the dock, and I only needed to ask once to find it. The wooden board depicting the head of a squawking seagull was easy to spot along the street.
I had thought taverns to be noisy, rowdy places, but the door squeaked loudly as I pushed it open. Inside, only a few people sat scattered about, all speaking in low voices. Their colorful tunics and hats made it clear this was an establishment for nobility.
Wearing peasant clothes, I drew every eye. I would have left as quickly as I entered if I hadn't noticed the man sitting at a nearby table. He matched the dockworker's description: old, with a clean moustache, smoking a black pipe. He was scanning piles of paper and ledgers.
I steeled myself and approached his table despite the stares.
"Sir... Sir Lawrence, might I inquire about the boarding fare for getting onto the Defiant Resolve? I was told you were the leader of the expedition," I asked, half-expecting to be ignored or shooed away.
He didn't answer at once. Several moments of silence passed before he finally spoke.
"Sixty-two gold divided by thirty-two," he said without looking up. I thought he was addressing someone else, but there was no one nearby.
"One gold, twenty-three silver... and about forty-three copper..." I murmured after a little calculation in my head. One gold piece was worth twenty-five silver, and one silver was worth a hundred copper.
"What do you mean by about forty three copper pieces?" He glanced up at me. His eyes flicked over my peasant clothes but only for a fleeting second.
"It's nearly forty-four copper," I said.
He grunted, then dipped his quill into ink and scribbled something on the ledger. "One gold, twenty-three silver, and forty-four copper it is."
I swallowed nervously at the amount. "Is that the fare for the ship, sir?"
The knight chuckled. "No, young master. That's just the ledgers. I don't know how I ended up doing numbers when all I studied was the sword."
"I am sorry—I am not a gentleman, as you can see," I said with a chuckle of my own.
The old man looked up at me again, now with a grin. His eyes scanned me from head to toe. "Not of gentle birth... with your fair skin, clean nails, a good set of teeth, your manner of speaking—not to mention your arithmetic knowledge."
"That's not—"
"We get a lot of your type. Runaways, rebels, or daredevils," he said, returning to his papers. "And I couldn't give a damn, as long as you know what you're getting into."
I sighed. "How about the fare, then?"
"No fare. Your life is your fare. It will be a three-month journey through the perilous sea, with an alarming chance of never reaching our destination."