Chapitre 4: The witch hunting!
He ate some canned food from the wreckage and the remaining food he took from the healer.
The berries will be rotten in days but the canned food can survive for months.
He hid the remaining food in the 'boulder pockets,' that's what he calls the small space between the boulders.
Since he didn't see any more of the patrol, he was sure they might have thought him dead or lost in the sea. His escape at night only proved to be useful.
"I need a change of clothes and a good bath," he said, looking at his dirtied clothes. "What better place is there than a tavern? I could talk about the wine bottles as well."
The tavern, if his memory doesn't deceive him again, is just a few miles away. He could go now and come back later. He could take a shower and have a good night's sleep and a proper meal with bread and pies. He could buy essentials with the gold he has.
"Alright, let's go!"
He decided to walk on the boulders to the other side, where it is connected to a road rather than going around the other side, as it can alert the healer and his shenanigans.
He also hid his sword on the boulder as it can garner attention for a boy in tattered clothes to hold a mysterious looking sword. He had his knives hidden in the back of his pants, under his shirt.
The lone walk only made him more miserable and depressed. Memories flashed in front of his eyes: his wife, her smile, her teasing laugh. She always told him she loves him even when he failed miserably. Her loving hugs, and kisses.
Then her loving and smiling face of her changed to lust filled pathetic expression as the bastards penetrated her.
Rage filled him up and he threw the rock in his hands aside in disgust. He wanted nothing more than to kill them! To cut them open, to tear them apart limb by limb.
And he was going to do it. He was going to do it even if the gods who send him back orders him not to. This was the only reason he wished to come back. To make the lives of those heroes and his wife's a pathetic one. To kill them all with his own hands.
He finally crossed the boulders and entered the road leading to the tavern. As he walked along the road, he spotted a few people passing by. Some were riding horses while others are walking on foot.
There were also merchants selling wares beside the road. Most of them were peddling dried meat, fruits, vegetables, or fresh fish.
Some people were cladded in fine silk and leather clothing. They wore jewelry of various colors, earrings, bracelets, rings, necklaces, and pendants. These were nobles who lived in this place.
Some people wore simple garments made from cotton and linen fabric, dyed in bright shades of blue, red, green, and yellow. A commoner wearing such attire would never dare venture here.
Others wear ragged clothing that showed how poor they really were.
This kingdom was filled with nothing but misery for those who are poor and powerless. But he wouldn't care anymore.
He passed by a group of men dressed in plain clothes carrying spears, shields, and swords.
They carried themselves with confidence, and he could tell that they were skilled warriors.
As this kingdom was populated with dense forests and dungeons, hunters, and guilds were bound to be around the corner.
He found a large shop with decorations and flags hanging outside its entrance. There were paintings on the walls depicting heroic battles and scenes from famous stories.
To the right of the door was a signboard showing a man holding a spear. Underneath was written "Bertram's Clothing." At the top, there was a sign- a symbol of a sort- a small purple star.
He took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
"Enter," came the voice of a woman. The door opened and a beautiful girl wearing a black dress with a white lace collar greeted him.
"Hello miss... erm, ma'am?"
"Just call me Bertram. What can I help you with? Can I interest you in buying some new clothes for your trip?"
She sounded pleasant enough to him.
He thought she was going to kick him out given his appearance and all.
Seeing his hesitation, Bertram said. "Don't worry. You're free to shop here that is if you have money. Other than that, nothing matters."
He understood the intonation. 'She's a businesswoman, okay.'
"I'm looking for one normal attire and one adventure gear," he replied, eyeing the dresses on display.
"Adventure gear?"
He nodded. "I'll be traveling through the wilds, so I need something durable and comfortable."
"You don't look like a young adventurer," she said. "It's odd that you would want an adventure gear. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am."
"Okay then. Just wait a second."
She went inside the storeroom and brought out a big bundle wrapped in brown paper.
"Here," she said as she handed it over to him.
He unwrapped the bundle and found himself holding a set of long sleeved shirts and pants, leather boots, a belt, a pair of gloves, and a cloak.
He took another look at the prices. It's quite expensive but he can get it if he has the gold.
"What about the other clothing?" he asked.
"It'll take some hours. Write your addres- write where you're staying here," she pointed at an old ledger book, seemingly older than the shop itself.
He wrote the address to the inn, which was only a half an hour walk from here.
"How much is it?" he asked.
"That'll be three golds and five silvers," she said.
He pulled out four gold coins from his pouch and handed them over to her.
"Thank you," she replied as she counted his payment. She gave back five silver coins with a smile. "Are there anything else you'd like to buy?"
"No. Not now anyway," he said. "I'll come back if I need something."
She nodded in agreement. "Your attire will be sent to the inn in a few hours."
...
Azrael left the shop, clutching the bundle of clothes in his hands.
He doesn't want to try it on to check if it's the correct fit, why?
Because he knows it'll be the correct fit. Everyone knows their clothes are the correct fit if they were to buy them from a tailor shop.
Why? Cause magic!
Bertram was a magical tailor, the sign on the post confirmed that. That means she can measure someone's size without tape or anything.
How does he know that? Well because of the small purple star on the sign board. This star on signposts indicates, whatever is inside, it's a magical being.
It's to avoid confusion and chaos among the humans.
He walked on the streets, seeing the patrol guards on duty, it was safe to walk alone through this place.
At night though, well that's a different story altogether.
The sun was already settling down and he needed to enter the tavern before it was too late.
After making his way down the road and crossing several intersections, he was sure the tavern was right around the corner.
But before he can proceed, he heard the loud cheering of a large crowd on the street center.
And then came the wailing of a woman, crying for mercy. And then a loud voice of a man followed. Speaking something incoherent to hear.
What the hell!?
He hurriedly ran toward the scene, hoping against hope that the people involved won't notice him.
When he reached the intersection, he saw a large gathering of townsfolk surrounding a large wooden cross near the central market.
The crowd was cheering as the soldier clad in armor spoke something, there was a torch in his hands and smokes coming off its mouth.
His head was covered by a helmet with a crest on it.
What caught his attention was not the people or the soldier, it was the cross.
A woman in a tattered cloth was tied to it, arms stretched wide open, her legs closed off.
Her hair was matted with blood and mud mixed together forming a sticky substance. Her face looked pale and dirty, bruises and cuts marked all over her body.
'They are going to light her up,' Azrael's mind raced as he saw the scene unfold. There was only one word that came to his mind.
Witch hunting!
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