Chapter 19 – Ashes and Silver
Ethan found Brad near the mission board, his posture rigid and arms crossed. A short nod served as Ethan's greeting, to which Brad raised an eyebrow.
"You've got that look," Brad said, his voice low. "What happened?"
Ethan didn't waste time. He recounted the events with a quiet, steady tone—how the adventurers fled, leaving behind a helpless woman on her own devices. How they hadn't even reported the incident. With each word, Brad's expression darkened. By the end of it, his jaw was clenched so tightly a vein pulsed at his temple.
"That's..." Brad exhaled, fists trembling at his sides. "Irresponsible doesn't even begin to cover it."
He took a deep breath, visibly holding back the storm boiling inside.
"I'll handle it," he growled. "The Guild will make sure nothing like that happens again."
Ethan stayed silent, letting the man gather his thoughts.
After a moment, Brad continued, voice rough.
"You should know... A Goblin King's appeared."
Ethan's brows lifted slightly.
"There's a large cave system a few kilometers northwest—been quiet for years, but now? The place is swarming. Goblins, hobgoblins, even reports of ogres evolving from prolonged exposure to magic. Several women have gone missing from nearby villages. We think they're being held inside."
A heavy pause.
"We're organizing a large-scale expedition. Probably in a few days. Both parties and solo adventurers will be called in. And the rewards have been raised."
He began listing them:
30 copper per goblin.
1 silver, 50 bronze per hobgoblin.
20 silver per ogre.
3 gold coins for the Goblin King.
"I figured you'd want to know," Brad added. "Given what you just told me."
Before Ethan could reply, soft footsteps approached. Both turned.
The woman from the cave, now dressed in clean, albeit modest clothes, stepped out of the room behind the counter. She held a small cloth pouch—likely compensation—and her eyes still carried a trace of lingering pain. She offered a nod to Ethan and then Brad, then began walking towards the door.
Brad nodded to Ethan and,
Without a word, Ethan followed.
"Let me take you home," he offered gently once they were outside.
She hesitated, then nodded.
The walk was quiet. Words felt heavy, unnecessary. Only the whisper of the breeze and crunch of gravel beneath their feet filled the silence.
They reached the outskirts of the village, where a small house stood. Modest, a bit worn from the years, but still standing strong. A three-room structure with a tiny kitchen and a narrow side space that likely served as a bathroom.
As they approached the wooden door, it creaked open.
A small child peeked out—a little girl, no older than six or seven, with tangled brown hair and wide, innocent eyes. The moment she saw her mother, she gasped and sprinted forward.
"Mama!"
The woman knelt just in time to catch her in her arms. Tears spilled freely as the two clung to each other, whispering soft, broken words Ethan couldn't quite catch. A reunion born from despair, and sealed with relief.
After a few moments, the girl turned toward Ethan, wiping her tears.
"Who's that, Mama?" she asked.
Her mother smiled faintly. "A good person. He... saved me."
The little girl blinked, then took a step closer, her gaze moving from Ethan's tired face to his torn, blood-stained tunic.
"You're all dirty," she said, her voice small but direct. "You should take a bath!"
Ethan chuckled, surprised. "I'll take that under serious consideration."
The mother smiled, a genuine one this time. A soft warmth returned to her pale face.
Then Ethan reached into his pouch and drew out a small handful of coins—one silver and twenty bronze, earned from exchanging goblin materials.
"This is for you," he said, holding it out. "You'll need it."
She froze. "I... I can't accept that. Y-you already gave me a healing potion, didn't you? They said my wounds were recovering unusually fast. If not for you, I don't know if I would've come back at all."
Her voice trembled, thick with gratitude.
"I can't take any more."
Ethan shook his head. "It came from those beasts. I have no wish to keep it. You should use it—to get back on your feet. For her."
He nodded toward the girl, now holding her mother's hand tightly.
The woman hesitated, tears brimming again. Then, slowly, she accepted the coins, pressing them to her chest.
"Thank you... truly."
Ethan turned, about to leave—but paused.
"One more thing," he said casually. "I was looking for a place to stay while I'm in the village."
He glanced back toward the house.
"This area's quiet. Peaceful. If you're okay with it, I can stay here. I'll pay twenty bronze coins a day—meals and bath included, of course."
His tone was light, almost joking, but the meaning was clear. It wasn't just about shelter.
It was support. A chance for her to recover—not through charity, but dignity.
The woman blinked, clearly stunned by the offer.
Ethan waited, giving her the time to decide.
---
The little girl's eyes sparkled with cheer despite everything she had just experienced. Perhaps it was the presence of her mother, safe and sound, or maybe the maturity that came too early in her life due to hardship. She understood what Ethan meant—more than someone her age should've.
"You should let him stay, Mama!" she said brightly. "That room's always empty anyway, and... and it's lonely here when you're gone."
Her innocent logic pierced through the air like sunlight after a storm. Then she looked up curiously. "Why are you crying again, Mama?"
The woman wiped her eyes quickly, trying to smile.
Turning to Ethan, she let out a soft laugh—light, uncertain, but real.
"Well then..." she said, voice gaining strength, "if you're looking for a place to stay... I know just the spot. Comes with a warm meal and a working bath."
Her tone lifted, teasing just enough to carry comfort.
Ethan smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twitching up. A silent agreement passed between them.
And with that, a quiet weight—one built of fear, uncertainty, and pain—lifted slightly from the woman's shoulders.
Later that afternoon, after everything had settled, she showed Ethan to the room.
It was modest but clean. She had taken the time to sweep the floor and dust the old wooden surfaces, even laid out fresh linen over the simple bedframe. The window let in a soft light, filtered through sheer curtains that danced with the breeze.
Ethan placed his travel sack—more for appearance than necessity—at the side of the room. His true belongings remained safely tucked away in his inventory.
He sat on the edge of the bed, exhaled slowly, then leaned back. The worn but comfortable mattress welcomed him like an old companion.
The silence was calming. No cries. No growls. No ringing steel.
He closed his eyes, letting the day play again behind his eyelids—blood, battle, rage, survival... and peace.
A long, deep breath escaped his chest.
And then, just as the night embraced him, a soft whisper escaped his lips—
"This is nice."