The beach I landed on was quite short. In length it was about a hundred meters long, and in width about 20 meters at most.
Both sides of the flat sandy surface were embanked by two black, rocky cliffs. Between the cliffs, the beach led into a dense, green tropical forest.
Once I pulled the dinghy to the small beach, I carried it on my back to the southern end of the sandy patch, and deposited it about ten meters past the tide line on the cliff.
Throwing my makeshift satchel behind my back, hooked on my left hand's middle finger, I walked a long and easy walk into the island. After about an hour of walking southeast into the forest, and keeping the ocean in my sight, I could finally hear the hustle and bustle of a human settlement.
As decided, the Black Death had dropped me on a northeastern beach of the island, from where I followed the predetermined directions to reach the main port.
Having confirmed my location, I started heading straight south, towards the direction where the forest would meet Tiana Port city, the main settlement on this island.
Walking in along through this tropical forest, certain nostalgic memories of my childhood came to me.
Back in my old home when my parents lived together, I used to watch a lot of Discovery Channel, and my favourite show was, of course, Man vs. Wild. The six-year-old me became an instant fan of this British mad-lad. Little did me of then knew I was being scammed. Well, reality TV did scam me too many times, now that I think about it. Did everyone else know from the beginning that WWE was fake?
I surely did not.
To think at the age of eight, I even ran away from home with nothing but a kitchen knife, all because my mother scolded me over something small. And walked more than four kilometres away from home to a highway river bridge. Laughably, I of course had no plan. I carried the knife, inspired by Bear Grylls, in order to hunt and forage for myself in the forest.
Oh, those kind strangers. If not for them, I'd probably be dead in a ditch the same day or, if caught by someone nefarious, would have been trafficked to who knows where. In retrospect, I was a stupid kid.
What a bittersweet feeling. If I could go back in time, I'd never do something so insane to hurt my mother. So what if she scolded me... What I ended up doing traumatised her for life.
While I could no longer remember the sobbing face of my mother, I, who was her most precious thing besides my brother, was not something she'd have been able to lose and live after. We were poor, and to poor people, there's nothing more valuable than other people they love.
"Ouch!"
I felt a sharp pain on the tip of my right hand's index finger.
I pulled it to check and found a six-legged, inch-long, dark brown critter. Its abdomen was divided into three main parts. Its mandibles were stuck in my fingertip's skin, having drawn blood. Fortunately, it seemed like the thick skin I gained from becoming an Assassin and Instigator prevented its stinger from penetrating.
It was still repeatedly trying to sting me.
"Right, every single surface in these forests is alive."
I said out loud and swatted the ant with my thumb with enough force that it flew and landed on the tree it had gotten on me from. It turned out, while I was ruminating on my bittersweet past, I had stopped and leaned on a tree with my free hand.
"Bullet ants are crazy, man."
Shaking my head, I kept on walking until I found a forest trail that led into the city. Once I'd reached the outskirts of the city, I waited until I was alone in the streets before concealing myself, and headed to a more remote alley.
First, I took off the top layers of my clothes that were all dirty from sweat, mud, leaves, dust, and whatever other gunk the forest left on me. I changed my pants into a different, casual pair, and replaced my swamp boots with a pair of slippers. Then, I wiped my face with a clean handkerchief.
Having changed, I now looked like a carefree tourist exploring around, wearing a loose white linen shirt on top, loose khaki pantaloons on the bottom, and leather slippers under my feet.
Taking out a black flame charm, which I'd now bought for cheap from the system, I used the incantation to burn off my spiritual signature from the discarded clothing and boots.
In the new outfit, I picked up my satchel, and used concealment to reach an empty street now closer to the main street, and casually walked out, as if I'd been there all along.
Since it was still some time to noon, I followed the street signs and advertisements on the walls to reached the Puerto Copa tavern on the Eastern Tiana street.
Since it was about to be midday and the sun was almost at the top of everyone's heads, there was no one outside the door, but the signboard hanging between the glass window on the door and the curtain behind it signified that the establishment was open.
Taking deliberate steps, I pushed the door inside, and felt a gust of cool wind hit my face. With the coolness, I was greeted by a mild scent of freshly baked bread, and fermented malt.
Taking in small whiffs, I enjoyed the fragrances of fresh delicacies and walked towards the bar that was mostly empty on the first floor. Only a single table was occupied by a gruff-looking man of black hair, about six feet tall. He had a pot belly, and burnt skin, like he'd just come back from toiling fields all day.
He lay asleep on the table, but the bartender seemed unbothered by his presence. The thin man of light brown hair sat lazily on the tall stool behind the counter.
Once I'd reached the counter, the man stood up with ease.
"Welcome, traveller. What should I serve you with?"
Since I wasn't carrying any luggage with me besides the satchel, the man understandably assumed I was one of those day-drinking folks.
"Give me a lemonade. And your food menu, and tell me the rates for your rooms."
Not showing any surprise, the bartender handed me a palm-sized booklet and started working on the lemonade.
"Since it's winter right now, all of our third-class rooms are occupied. On the third floor, we have two vacant first-class suites, and a second-class suite on the second floor. The former is 4 soli per night, and the latter is 1 soli. If you take a first-class suite, all of your meals and generic drinks are on the house."
Since I had recently made big money, and brought some of it along—about 50 pounds—with me, I decided if there was any time to splurge some on luxuries, it was now.
"I'll take the first-class suite for three days," handing him back the menu, I continued, "and I'd like to have a double portion of Honey-Spiced Pork Chops, a double pint of Sweet Iced Tea, and a medium Grilled Chicken Fruit Salad. I'm assuming the lemonade right now was also on the house."
Before the frowning bartender could agree or disagree, I pulled out two 5-soli, and two 1-soli notes, and put them on the countertop.
Seeing the payment upfront, the bartender's frowning face eased.
"Just give me a minute, sir; I'll send someone to accompany you to your room."
The bartender rang a bell that was sitting on his side of the counter, and soon, a young boy of about 15, with light brown hair, and a thin face, came out from the kitchen behind the bar.
The bartender threw the child a key.
"Jimmy, go and take this gentleman to 302."
The boy nodded and turned to me, "Please follow me, sir," and walked up the stairs that were on the other side behind the bar, in the opposite direction of the kitchen.
The boy took me up, and gave me a little tour of the suite. The suite had one bedroom, one small office, and a separate bathroom. The bedroom's large windows had a great view of the ocean, and were fitted with blinds that could be drawn to increase or decrease the brightness.
Once the boy left, I threw my satchel in a drawer table beside the bed, and took off my clothes to have a bath.
Just when I returned, and put on a different pair of casual clothes, I heard a knock on the door. It was lunchtime.
Taking the food, I wasted no time and feasted on juicy, savoury, titillatingly sweet and spicy pork chops.
Every few bites, I'd switch to several bites of the spicy grilled chicken fruit salad, and the citrus sweetness and spicy tinge left my senses brilliantly pleased.
And to top it all of, every few minutes I'd take several gulps of the sweet iced tea, and fell deeper and deeper into the sin of glutton with no regret.
In about fifteen minutes, I'd licked every plate clean.
Feeling full, heavy, yet full of joy and energy, I decided to finally getting down on decoding Mr. Fool's honorific name into Hermes.
First I wrote it down in Loenese, and then, translated the lines into Hermes. Then, I called the room service, had them take back the dishes, and told them not to disturb me until dinner time.
Only when I was certain that I had no one around me, I sat down on the bed with the paper in my hand and memorised the lines in my head.
Once done, I took a match box, and lit the paper into flames over the rubbish container.
Once again, sitting back on the bed, I chanted.
"The Fool that does not belong to this era;"
"The Mysterious ruler above the gray fog;"
"The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
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Not much development here. This is the last chapter this week. Next chapter will be on Monday. Please drop me a few comments and power stones, they're gimme hella dopamine and make me want to write more and better.
Thanks for reading, have a good weekend everyone. Praise the Lady!