Kapitel 2: 2. The Beauty in Plate Armour
The receptionist handed me a small, weathered handbook, its corners creased from years of use. With a curt nod, I turned and exited the Guild Hall, stepping into the bustling streets of the city. The adventurers who had arrived with me earlier disappeared into the upper floors of the building, but I didn't care to linger or wonder where they'd gone. My focus remained squarely on myself.
The city stretched before me, a mix of late medieval and early Victorian architecture, with cobblestone streets glistening faintly under the midday sun. Horse-drawn carriages clattered by, their wheels kicking up the occasional puff of dust. Street vendors lined the roads, hawking their wares with loud, rhythmic calls, selling everything from steaming meat skewers to polished trinkets. The aroma of baked bread and grilled meats blended with the more pungent smells of unwashed bodies and dung left by passing horses.
As I walked, I noticed the people around me. Most were human, but a sprinkling of beastkin and elves moved through the crowd, their distinct features standing out. Some of the beastkin had animalistic ears twitching atop their heads or tails swishing behind them, while the elves carried themselves with a natural elegance, their sharp features and pointed ears giving them an air of mystery.
What struck me most, however, were the slaves. Men and women, primarily humans and beastkin, shuffled through the streets with heavy chains around their necks and ankles, their gazes downcast. Nobles and merchants tugged at their leashes, leading them like livestock. The sight made my stomach churn. I wondered briefly why there weren't any elves among the slaves. Perhaps they were too strong to subjugate, or maybe there was some cultural or political reason for their absence. Either way, it wasn't something I could solve now, so I pushed the thought aside.
After weaving through the crowd for some time, I arrived at the inn I'd been directed to by the adventurers. Its sign, written in bold, bright red letters, declared the establishment as the Mikaelson Inn & Tavern. The sight of the sturdy wooden building, its doors wide open, brought a faint sense of relief.
Gripping the handbook tightly, I stepped through the heavy wooden door and was immediately assaulted by a mix of scents: spilled ale, stale sweat, and the faint tang of burning wood. The atmosphere inside was chaotic.
To my left, rows of chairs and tables were packed with men and women of various races. Humans, beastkin, and even a few elves sat together, shouting, laughing, and singing as they drank from oversized mugs. Plates of food clattered as barmaids darted between the tables, dodging drunken hands and pouring more drinks. It was noisy, hot, and lively—a stark contrast to my mood.
This wasn't my scene, especially not while sober. Shaking my head, I turned to the right, where a long wooden counter stretched across the room. Behind it stood a man of absurd proportions, his towering frame making him look like a walking mountain.
I approached him cautiously, craning my neck to meet his gaze. Even with the dim lighting obscuring much of his face, I could tell he was ridiculously tall—easily over eight feet. By comparison, my 5'6" stature made me feel like a child standing next to a skyscraper.
"Can I get a room!?" I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the din.
The man leaned forward slightly, his shadow swallowing me whole. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly high-pitched, a sharp contrast to his intimidating size.
"One hundred pele a night!" he announced.
"Pele?" I muttered, confused.
"That's the currency here in Rostalio," he replied with a small smirk, clearly used to newcomers like me.
"How much is that in coins, dude?" I asked instinctively, the casual slang slipping out before I could stop myself.
The man raised an eyebrow at my informal tone but proceeded to explain the currency system in the kingdom. It was simple enough: ten pele made one copper coin, one hundred copper coins equaled a silver coin, and one hundred silver coins amounted to a single gold coin.
I nodded along, processing the information, and handed him a single silver coin. If my math was right, that would cover ten nights. He took the coin with a nod and handed me a vintage-looking skeleton key with the number "4" etched into its surface. At least the numerals I understand.
"Your room number corresponds to the number on the key. It's upstairs," he explained, pointing toward a narrow staircase at the far end of the tavern. "Food will be brought to your room at ten in the evening and seven in the morning."
The timing struck me as odd—late for dinner and early for breakfast—but I shrugged it off. Maybe it was a cultural thing.
I nodded in acknowledgment and made my way up the creaky wooden stairs. The hallway above was dimly lit, the faint glow from wall-mounted lanterns barely illuminating the worn floorboards. I counted the room numbers as I walked: one… two… three… four.
Sliding the key into the lock, I turned it with a satisfying click and pushed the door open. The room was plain but functional, a modest space with a single bed against the left wall. A small wooden nightstand sat beside it, and a rickety desk with a matching chair occupied the opposite wall. A window directly across from the door let in faint rays of sunlight, casting long shadows across the floor.
I closed the door behind me and let out a sigh, finally allowing myself to relax. Dropping into the chair, I placed the handbook on the desk and leaned back, savoring the brief moment of peace. After a few seconds, I sat up and flipped open the book. The title on the first page read Etiquette of an Adventurer.
The handbook was surprisingly detailed, outlining everything from proper manners when accepting quests to tips for surviving in the wilderness. It took me over an hour to read through the entire thing, and by the time I finished, the sun was still high in the sky.
With my lodging secured for the next ten nights and my finances in good shape—three gold coins, forty-eight silver coins, and one hundred copper coins remaining—I decided I could afford to take it easy for a while. Training would be my top priority. If I wanted to survive as an adventurer, mastering my ki energy was essential.
Placing the book back on the desk, I moved to the bed and sat down in a lotus position. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. Almost immediately, I felt it—a small, fiery warmth deep in my core.
The energy pulsed faintly, like a tiny seed of flame nestled in my stomach. I focused on it, letting it grow and spread, its heat radiating through my body like vines or roots reaching outward. It was exhilarating, like tapping into a wellspring of untapped power.
Satisfied with this first step, I opened my eyes and raised my right hand, palm up. Gathering the energy into my hand was another challenge entirely. It felt sluggish and resistant, like trying to shape wet clay with bare hands. Slowly, an aura of a black and bloody red energy enveloped my arm, sparking faintly with intensity.
The sensation was intoxicating, a euphoric rush that reminded me of my wild high school days. As my thoughts drifted, the aura faltered and dissipated, flickering out like a dying ember.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The sudden knock at the door jolted me back to reality.
"Yeah? Who is it?" I called out.
"I've brought your dinner," came a melodic voice from the other side.
Glancing at the window, I realized the sun had already set. How long had I been sitting here? It had felt like mere minutes, but hours must have passed.
"I'm coming!" I replied, standing and making my way to the door. Opening it, I found myself face-to-face with a striking woman clad in gleaming plate armor.
Her long, black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of oil, framing a heart-shaped face that was equal parts delicate and fierce. She held a tray of food in her hands, her expression calm but unreadable.
"Thanks," I said, taking the tray from her.
The dim lighting in the room was frustrating, so I hesitated. "Uh… could you help me with the lights?"
Without a word, she stepped past me into the room. Holding out her hand, she conjured a small flame in her palm. The fire floated upward, splitting into four smaller orbs that shot into the lanterns in each corner of the room. The crystals inside the lanterns absorbed the flames, glowing softly and illuminating the space with a warm, steady light.
"Wow," I murmured, impressed despite myself. "My name's Kaizen," I added awkwardly, attempting to strike up a conversation.
"I didn't ask for your name," she replied curtly, her tone cold and dismissive. Without another word, she turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Well, that was rude. Did she think I was hitting on her? Because, to be honest, she wasn't wrong.
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone again. The room felt quieter now, the air heavier somehow. I placed the tray on the desk, taking a moment to examine the meal. It was simple but surprisingly hearty—a bowl of stew, a thick slice of crusty bread, and a small wedge of cheese. A faint steam rose from the bowl, carrying the aroma of spiced meat and root vegetables. My stomach growled in response, the hunger I hadn't realized I was feeling now impossible to ignore. Grabbing the spoon, I took a tentative sip of the stew. The warmth spread through me instantly, the flavors earthy and rich. It wasn't fancy, but it was satisfying.
I ate quickly, my mind preoccupied. The encounter with the armored woman replayed in my head. Her cold demeanor didn't bother me—what bothered me was that I hadn't sensed her presence before she knocked. Not even a flicker of energy, a hint of movement, nothing. For someone clad in plate armor, she was unnervingly stealthy.
"She's strong," I muttered under my breath, dipping the bread into the stew and taking a bite. Strong wasn't even the right word—she was in a completely different league. The way she summoned fire, the precision of her control… It was clear she wasn't just some random mercenary passing through.
Well my first guess is that her folks or family probably owns the inn. Why else would someone dressed like that serve food?
Pushing the thoughts aside, I finished the meal in silence. Once the plate was cleared, I leaned back in the chair, resting my head against the wall behind me. The day's events were catching up to me, fatigue settling into my bones. Still, I wasn't ready to sleep just yet.
My gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the city. From up here, the sounds of the bustling tavern below were faint, muffled by the thick wooden floorboards. It was peaceful, but it wouldn't last.
The handbook's advice echoed in my mind: *"An adventurer's greatest strength is preparation. Survive today to fight tomorrow."*
I couldn't afford to be complacent. I had to train harder, push myself beyond my limits. The black aura I'd summoned earlier had been pitifully weak. I needed more control, more power. If I didn't improve, I'd end up as just another corpse in this brutal world.
But before that, I needed more food.
The stew had barely taken the edge off my hunger. Whatever energy I'd expended trying to harness my ki earlier had left me famished, and this meager meal wasn't going to cut it.
Standing, I moved back to the door and opened it, peering into the hallway. It was eerily quiet now, the lively noise from the tavern below barely a whisper. The lanterns along the walls flickered weakly, casting dancing shadows across the narrow space.
Stepping into the hall, I made my way back downstairs. The tavern was still alive with activity, though the crowd had thinned considerably. Most of the patrons were now huddled around a single table, their loud voices suggesting a card game in progress. A few others lingered at the bar, nursing drinks and chatting quietly.
The giant bartender was still behind the counter, polishing a glass with a rag that looked more like a tablecloth. He looked up as I approached, one thick eyebrow arching in question.
"Back already?" he asked, his voice carrying easily over the din.
"Yeah," I said, sliding onto one of the stools. "I need another meal. Something bigger this time."
The bartender let out a low chuckle, setting the glass down with a heavy *thud*.
"Hungry little thing, aren't you?" he said, reaching for a menu. He placed it in front of me, the wooden board's surface etched with the tavern's offerings. "Pick whatever you want. Kitchen's still open."
I glanced over the options, my eyes scanning the list quickly. Roasted meats, stews, pies—everything looked appetizing, but my attention landed on one item in particular: the *Hunter's Platter*. A mix of roasted game, root vegetables, and fresh-baked bread. It sounded perfect.
"I'll take the Hunter's Platter," I said, sliding the menu back across the counter.
The bartender nodded, shouting the order to someone in the kitchen. Turning back to me, he leaned on the counter, his massive arms folding across his chest.
"Word of advice," he said, his tone dropping slightly. "Don't burn yourself out too fast. I've seen your type before. New adventurers come in all fired up, thinking they've got something to prove. They push too hard, too fast, and end up in a ditch before the week's out."
I met his gaze evenly, not flinching under the weight of his words.
"Thanks for the advice," I said, my voice calm. "But I know my limits."
The bartender studied me for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval.
"Suit yourself," he said, straightening up and returning to his work.
I waited in silence, the smell of roasting meat wafting from the kitchen making my stomach growl again. The noise from the card game grew louder, laughter and cheers echoing through the room as someone apparently won a big hand.
Eventually, the bartender returned with a large plate, setting it down in front of me. The Hunter's Platter was even more impressive than I'd expected. Thick slices of roasted meat were piled high, surrounded by an assortment of roasted potatoes, carrots, and parsnips. A hunk of crusty bread sat on the side, along with a small bowl of herb butter.
"Enjoy," the bartender said, before moving to attend to another customer.
I didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing a fork and knife, I dug in, savoring the flavors with every bite. The meat was tender and juicy, the vegetables perfectly seasoned, and the bread still warm from the oven. It was exactly what I needed.
As I ate, my mind wandered again. The woman in plate armor, the unfamiliar currency, the oppressive air of this city—it was all so different from the world I'd come from. But I couldn't afford to dwell on the past. This was my reality now, and if I wanted to survive, I had to adapt.
By the time I finished the meal, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Placing a few copper coins on the counter to cover the meal, I stood and made my way back upstairs. There was still so much to do, so much to learn. But for now, I'd take it one step at a time.
Tomorrow would be a new day, and I intended to make the most of it.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein