"Ugh… so uncomfortable…" Abel muttered, lying down as he tried to sleep in the constantly swaying carriage.
Outside, the sky was already dark, yet the horse-drawn wagon kept moving. Abel glanced at the man sitting across from him — he was fast asleep.
"Looks like everyone can sleep… except me. How do they even sleep on a road like this?" Abel whispered under his breath.
Silence filled the wagon. The only sounds were the creaking of wooden wheels and the occasional crunch of pebbles beneath them. Abel tried to sleep again, but it was pointless.
---
Three days later.
Three days of travel had passed — with little sleep, questionable food, and endless rattling from the wagon.
Abel looked out the small window. In the distance, towering fortress walls stood tall, strong, and imposing.
His eyes widened in awe.
"Whoa! A real fortress! Wahaha, awesome!" Abel said with pure excitement.
"Get ready, peasant. You'll be interrogated soon," the old man across from him spoke with a firm tone.
Abel didn't even bother replying at this state. He had heard the same thing multiple times throughout the trip. The wagon stopped in front of the gate, and the old man stepped outside to hand over some documents.
Abel tried to eavesdrop but only caught a few words — "Strange man," "Black Dragon," "Interrogation." He realized it all had to do with the day he first met their group.
The man came back in, and the wagon moved again.
"Uh… why are you going to interrogate me?" Abel asked.
"Because you're suspicious," the man replied flatly.
"Suspicious? How am I suspicious?"
"You'll find out soon enough," the man said sharply.
Abel grumbled under his breath. This was unfair — he was about to be interrogated without even knowing why.
---
Through the window, he saw the buildings of the city — old and medieval in style. The wagon passed through a bustling market, stalls lining both sides, merchants shouting to sell their goods. Strange items caught Abel's attention.
Minutes later, the wagon stopped again. The old man grabbed Abel's arm and dragged him out.
"Wha— hey, what the hell?!" Abel protested.
The man ignored him, pulling him toward a building that looked like a medieval barracks.
"Remember, just answer the questions, and we'll decide your fate," the man said coldly.
He dragged Abel into the building and down into a dimly lit basement filled with torture devices. The faint light from wall-mounted torches cast long shadows. The metallic scent of iron hung in the air, along with faint bloodstains on the stone walls. Abel gulped.
The man shoved Abel onto a chair, sat across from him, and began.
"So… tell me, why were you in that dangerous place?"
"Dangerous place?" Abel asked back. "What do you mean?"
"That grassland. It's where dragons nest. Don't tell me you were there without knowing that?"
Abel nodded slightly — confirming the man's words.
The man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Alright then, a different question. Why didn't that black dragon attack you?"
"How should I know?" Abel replied.
"You're not giving me a satisfying answer. Do you want to be executed?" the man's tone turned threatening.
Abel raised his hands quickly. "I swear, I really don't know why!"
The man stared at him for a few moments, then sighed. "Alright… you don't seem to be lying, kid."
"So… now what?" Abel asked.
"You'll be released, of course," the man replied.
"Released? No compensation?" Abel protested.
With a grumble, the man tossed him a small pouch of bronze and silver coins.
"Here. Take it."
"… Hey, is there a guild around here?" Abel suddenly asked.
"Of course. What kind of kingdom do you think Illerdia is?" the man replied.
Abel's face lit up. "Can you tell me where it is?"
The man sighed again. "Not far. Just head right until you see a building with a green sign."
"Alright, thanks!" Abel said cheerfully, grabbing the pouch. But before he left, the man called out, "Hey, kid. I still don't know your name. Tell me."
With a smirk, Abel replied, "It's Abel!"
The man smiled faintly. "Abel, huh? Such Good name. I'm Albert — Albert Hallvort, nice to meet you."
Abel laughed. "Nice to meet you too, Albert — even if you were rough on me! And thanks for the compensation!"
Albert chuckled, watching Abel walk away.
"We'll meet again…O, The Chosen One," he murmured.
---
Outside, Abel followed the paved road to the right. A few passersby stared at him, whispering about his strange clothes. Abel glanced down at his outfit — it was indeed unlike anything in this world, made from materials back from his own world.
He soon spotted a clothing shop and went inside. A particular ivory-white shirt caught his eye. It had a loose cut, a wide collar with ruffles down the chest, and crisscross lacing. The sleeves were wide with flared cuffs, giving it an elegant, aristocratic, and maritime flair.
Then he took it to the counter.
"How much for this?" Abel asked.
"Three silver coins, sir," the shopkeeper replied.
Abel paid and changed in the fitting room. He then sold his old clothes to the same shop for five silver coins, convincing the shopkeeper that the fabric was incredibly durable.
Walking out with two extra coins inside his pocket, then Abel headed straight for the guild building.
Inside, the place was buzzing with activity — one of them had heavy armor, a spear, and one that looked like an assassin. They were talking about hunts, new missions, and dangerous territories.
Abel walked to the receptionist counter.
"Hi, I'd like to register as an adventurer!"
The receptionist, a blonde-haired woman, smiled politely. "Of course, sir. And what weapon do you use?"
"Weapon? Uh… I don't have one," Abel admitted.
"Oh… um... I'm sorry, sir, but you'll need a permanent weapon to register," she explained.
Abel's excitement faded slightly. He smiled weakly, saying he'd come back later, and walked out.
"Alright… a weapon, huh? Can I even use one?" he muttered to himself, falling deep into thought.
"I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO!" Abel shouted in frustration and everyone around him just locked at him like he's crazy.
And he was swallowed up in his confusion
---
To Be Continued...