"I see." Natalak nods, watching the leaves like petals slowly fall to the ground. "Red… The colour of many a gist, a love of tragedy, the purity of war itself. Colour of life and death."
Natalak's words intrigued Mir somewhat.
"You're quite a philosopher," Mir said, looking up at Natalak.
"I think so too."
Letting out a slight groan, Natalak then stood looking at the entrance of the four corridors leading toward a different place. The first corridor holds no signs or symbols. The second holds no fire but depicts a dragon, not until he saw a fire in the third corridor.
"The exit, huh?"
Mir lifts herself from the bench and heads towards the tree, while Natalak stands still, observing her.
She kneels in respect before plucking the plants; they were vine-like but different. The colour of the leaves was yellow but shone, illuminating to tell. Putting it in her satchel, she starts to pray in front of the tree. For Natalak, who was of a different culture and religion, he only watches Mir silently, praying to her god.
After her devotion, they went to the exit corridor, where they came across another large room full of vegetation; it was a garden. It even had a small pond where unknown water plants are growing. Natalak thought that Mir would stop and collect some herbs, but Mir kept her pace. As she said before, they were able to reach the exit door, and two people were managing at the admission desk.
"Can you give this to Aunt Lily? Tell her my gratitude." Mir says to one of the managers.
"You don't have to worry." The manager said to her as she received the envelope.
She nods happily while Natalak only stands there watching her as she smiles, a smile that's been through a lot. The signs of her dirty and bruised hands from toiling in gardens and soil. The past that she hinted at, and before Mir leaves, she bows, showing her gratitude.
"Nice meeting you, Mr Natalak, and thank you for your time… Towards that door—"Mir hesitated, pointing at the exit. "Well, you can meet me anytime." She counts, before running to her errands.
Curious, Natalak went towards one of the managers.
"Hey, about that child," Natalak said.
"Poor child… I see you met her recently." The manager said, giving a pitiful look.
"Yeah, and by the way, do you know where this map is located?" Natalak said, giving the map. "It's my companion's house." He continues.
"I think your friend's house is located on the western side of Ravalind. You can ask the guards and people once you have entered that area."
"I see, thank you for giving me some of your time." Natalak nods.
"Anytime." The receptionist gestures.
Through the door he goes; Natalak is surprised to see Sheila sitting on the cobblestone stairs, waiting for his exit.
"Um, hello there," Natalak calls, raising his hand.
"Took you long enough," Sheila replied, giving a smile of relief.
"So, about this map?"
"No need for that, I was quickly informed of your recovery. Though it took me another half an hour to wait for you." Sheila shakes her head.
"Sorry about that, I got curious about the exit. But how long was my recovery?"
"One day and two nights," Sheila said, before turning around.
"Oh, that's a lot of hours," Natalak replied, trailing Sheila.
As they moved through the bustling city of Ravalind, it was apparent that the more they crossed into the innermost parts of the city. People started to get even more crowded, and one can hear street merchants wooing passersby to buy their goods. For a moment, there he saw the rooftop of the adventurers' guild, situated more than three hundred meters from where he was standing. And by immersing himself in the city's atmosphere, he felt a tension in his arms.
"Brother Natalak?" Sheila tinkles, shaking his arms.
"Sorry, I was too captivated by the city's atmosphere."
"Is this your initial experience coming to a city?" Sheila follows, curiously gazing at Natalak's eyes.
"Yeah…"
"I see." Sheila smiles and continues her ambling.
Through the now crowded streets, Sheila had to look back, worrying that Natalak would again get lost in the sea of people. But the thing that she dreads most is the pickpockets. Once they cross the busy streets, Sheila quickly checks her pockets, her coins.
"Shar's be praised." She mutters.
"What are you doing?" Natalak came.
"Check your pockets, thieves are on every corner."
A surge of dread fills his heart, so much so that he quickly pulls his pouch of coins. And once there were no signs of his coins being stolen, he sighs in relief.
"Yeah, I'm good."
Sheila closely inspects Natalak's clothing and armour. She was uncomfortable even looking at his battered armour. The padded leather was brutally lacerated, leaving some pieces hanging. The chainmail that layered his armour was full of holes; the iron plates on the outer layer were full of chips and cracks. And the most embarrassing thing was that she didn't want to look at his thick leather trousers.
If you were in Sheila's place, Natalak's trousers were full of scars and holes. Even his boots are full of holes, enough to see his toenails peeking through the holes. And as a female friend, it's both embarrassing to look.
Without giving him a word, she quickly reroutes towards the market. Wonders through the eyes, Natalak was very much alien to such otherworldly markets. Stalls of different people. From different places and cultures, the market was filled. Strange fruits and meats were displayed in a refrigerated case by a strange ice.
He takes one piece of the ice— strangely, from the searing daylight combined with the scorching of the market full of mortals. The ice wasn't melted; oddly enough, it still retained its original coldness. A small time to ponder, he did remember the ice from the wagon with Ashalain.
"Might I ask Mr., what is this ice made of?" Natalak implores the owner.
"Those ice are from Norreveil, don't worry, they are not one of those replicated ice of Maginum."
"Ah, I see," Natalak said, still pondering what the shop owner had just said.
"Norreveil, Maginum? What the fuck are those?"
As Sheila watches Natalak, curiously gawking at the ice, his sweat drops like a wet rag. She contemplates the scorching atmosphere and Natalak's action—quickly; an idea comes to her mind.
Pulling Natalak from the meat shop, they went towards a certain fabric shop. Again, this time Natalak was invested, the shop smelled like perfume, not overpowering, just a normal scent of clothes.
He scattered his eyes and saw that the fabrics were made of different materials. Cloaks made of furs, refined reptilian skin, dozens of gleaming fabrics— it was a shop made for adventurers and death seekers.
"Brother Natalak, care to try this one?" Sheila calls, nudging the traveller from his senses.
He appeared at Sheila's cries, and saw she was showing him a cloak, tinted in navy dark. Inquisitively, Natalak gladly tries the cloak— instantly, a cold breeze engulfed the hot air. Not too cold, just the right temperature.
"What is this?"
"It's a cloak, made from an ice salamander's skin."
"Norreveil?"
"Yes, Norreveil."
"How much is it?"
"Two silver and twenty copper."
"Two and— I don't have that much money." He whispers.
"Not to worry, I got you covered," Sheila whispers back, though on the other hand, she was just relieved that the cloak hid Natalak's appearance. The only thing that the cloak didn't cover was his worn-out boots.
Finishing their time in the market, the town is now headed to where Sheila's home is. Along the way, through a few individuals now loitering on the street, he spots more than just a weapon.
Five adventurers, each of a different class— a knight, a dwarven fighter and two magic casters. Natalak can tell about their appearance from their armour. But the one thing that caught his interest was a man holding two flintlocks strapped to his belt. A musket that he carries on his back.
Those were firearms for sure, though different in design. Natalak can tell that an explosion powered them, and they are not illusions. From that moment on, Sheila's rumbling words turn into silent.
For the adventurers not to feel his gawking presence, he let them pass twenty meters. Now, with a good distance, Natalak can gaze at that musket as much as he wants.
The barrels were octagonal, but the holes were round; their stocks were made of wood. In between the stocks and the trigger, there was a magazine-like. The etches and the design are like those of a drawer. But the most interesting one was in the area of the lock plate. Its design was very different from Earth's musket design.
"Also, Chifya will be staying for probably a month or two," Sheila said, but suddenly, she felt Natalak's presence was gone.
She turns, scanning in every direction to see Natalak standing like a statue. Unmoved, just his eyes blinking and watching the adventurer.
"Now what?" Sheila shrugs
Rather infuriated by his anomalous behaviour, Sheila rushed to what Natalak was fussing about.
"You okay there? Do you find something about that group of adventurers?" Sheila intrudes, though his voice slightly gives a hint of frustration.
"No-no-no, I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Snaped from his awkward actions, however, his mind was running at a different pace. Grasping the armaments that he saw, while listening to Sheila's words.
"Um, what are those?" Natalak interrupts, pointing at the adventurers holding a musket-like weapon.
"What do you mean by those? They are adventurers, and judging by that man's clothes and armaments, he is probably from the empire of Mavigrid."
"Ah, I see…" Natalak nods, scratching his chin. "So, about my items."
"Don't worry, your bag is safe at my place."
"I see, thank you."
Nothing more to gawk at, the two continue their way. Standing at the façade of the house, Natalak was relieved that it wasn't another noble's mansion. The house was quite old, two-storey in height, with moss growing from its walls and its roof. Nevertheless, Natalak can tell, the building was sturdy as a stone.
"We're home." Sheila cries as soon as they enter the building.
Upon entering, Natalak quickly noticed that the house needed some minor repairs. Though old and some of its structures are deteriorating, there is something beautiful about entering an old, still-living ruin. He gazes through the ceiling and understands there are no leaks, only a few cobwebs and moss growing on the lower part of the walls. It's as if he enters a sage's cabin.
That, however, changed when he saw Chifya at the table, warmly drinking her tea.
"Ah, you're back," Chifya said, with an expression of uninterest.
"The Heck!"