Lux woke up feeling more well-rested than she had in a long while, the deep, dreamless sleep a stark contrast to the restless nights she'd grown accustomed to. The lingering chill of the Nightgale morning seemed less biting, and a rare, almost peaceful calm settled over her.
After descending the creaking wooden stairs, she found Helen already in the cozy kitchen, the air thick with the comforting scent of woodsmoke and simmering grain. Oliver was still fast asleep, his snores a low rumble from upstairs. Perhaps he was simply worn out from the arduous journey... or perhaps, Lux mused with a faint, internal smirk, he was just gloriously lazy. She was inclined to believe the latter.
Helping Helen in the kitchen turned out to be an unexpected, almost delightful, learning experience. Helen, with her gentle patience and warm smile, taught Lux how to make oatmeal—a seemingly simple task that nevertheless felt like an exciting addition to her otherwise empty list of edible creations. Lux, accustomed to foraging and raw survival, found a quiet satisfaction in the domestic rhythm of stirring oats over a low flame, watching the pale, creamy liquid thicken.
By the time breakfast was ready, its steam warming the small room, Oliver had finally roused himself, blinking sleepily as he joined them at the rough-hewn table. They shared the simple meal together, chatting in low, calm tones about various everyday topics. Lux spoke a little about her recent stay in one of the villages under Baron Paul's jurisdiction—carefully omitting the less pleasant details, particularly her ignominious arrest by a meticulous tax collector for lacking identification papers. She chose her words with practiced ease, weaving a plausible, if incomplete, narrative.
The conversation eventually drifted into calmer waters, settling on the subject of her future in Nightgale. Oliver, surprisingly, knew very little about the Adventurers' Guild—almost nothing, really—his world seemingly revolving around his meager trade. But Helen, with her quiet wisdom and broader understanding of the city, stepped in to fill the significant gaps. Between the two of them, their voices a gentle counterpoint, Lux managed to piece together some crucial basics about the organization she intended to join:
The Adventurers' and Mercenaries' Guilds operated under a unified, tiered ranking system, which used either alphabet letters or precious metals. The alphabetic system ranged from G (the lowest entry-level rank) to S (the absolute pinnacle, reserved for legendary figures). The metallic system, seemingly more prestigious, progressed from Bronze, Copper, Iron, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Adamantite, to Orichalcum—with Bronze being the most common entry-level designation, and Orichalcum reserved for near-mythical heroes. Helen explained that the metallic ranks often correlated to general power levels, a visual shorthand for danger.
As for dungeons, Helen explained that these mysterious, subterranean delves often had their own peculiar climate, unique vegetation, and strange, unpredictable quirks—dangerous features that shifted and mutated over time. That was the extent of what they knew, their knowledge based more on common folklore than personal experience.
The conversation then shifted to supplies. Health potions, mana potions, and other vital concoctions, Helen informed her, could be purchased from the guild itself, from the ubiquitous Church of the Light, or from independent apothecaries scattered throughout the city. However, the Church was by far the largest producer of both health and mana potions—maintaining near-monopolistic control over their distribution, a fact Lux filed away with a mental grimace. Sensing Lux's subtle hesitation at the mention of the Church—whether through keen observation or an almost intuitive woman's intuition—Helen quietly, almost conspiratorially, recommended a local, independent apothecary instead, her voice softer, more reassuring.
Neither Oliver nor Helen pried into Lux's personal circumstances, her past, or her true identity, though they had every reason to be cautious, even suspicious, of a lone, capable girl appearing from the wilds. She was profoundly grateful for that unspoken understanding, that rare, quiet respect for her privacy. It was a kindness she hadn't anticipated.
After breakfast, the lingering warmth of the simple meal a comfort in her belly, Lux prepared to head out. She donned a thick, practical fur coat—one of the many utilitarian spoils she'd gathered along her arduous journey, its dark fur soft against her skin. With her destination set and a newfound sense of purpose, she left the small, welcoming home, stepping out into the crisp, pale light of the winter morning, ready to face the next step of her complicated, dangerous life.