The man woke up to the sound of chimes coming from a small, circular clock.
His bronze, disheveled hair hung loosely as he crawled out of bed, then made his way to the bathroom. Glassy bronze eyes stared back at him through the mirror.
Dawn had yet to arrive.
"39, 40, 41.
23, 24, 25.
67, 68, 69..."
He counted to himself in various values, carrying out his workout routine.
He sprawled on the floor, gasping, sweat dripping down his toned body.
The sun shone brightly now, lighting up the large room.
"I can hear you gasping. There better not be a girl in there with you," a voice called out from beyond the room.
"That was one time, and nothing happened... mostly," he muttered the last part, heading to take a shower.
He went downstairs to the kitchen. Coins were scattered across the tabletop. He opened the cupboards, seeing stacks of variously shaped coins. He sighed, taking a handful.
"Old man, when was the last time you got actual food?!" he called out, climbing back up the stairs and heading for a different room.
"Don't call me old man, you spoiled brat." The voice replied, throwing a half-empty mug at the doorway, where someone now stood.
"Ow."
"Go cry in a shower, and you'd know the answer to your question if you actually tried living here."
"I am living here." He looked around. "And it seems you're living in your 'office.'"
"You only sleep here, and the office has all I need." He gestured to a shelf with a jar of dried leaves and a bowl of eggs. Behind it were more stacks of coins.
"This isn't really an ideal lifestyle choice." He began picking up eggshells and pieces of paper lying around.
"Varen, my boy, when you get to my age, this is the ideal lifestyle." The man's glassy brown-orange eyes peered at Varen. "More or less."
"Sure..." Varen noticed a larger piece lying in the corner.
"By the way, when are you returning that car outside?"
"Maybe in a few days, before we head back to the bridge. Ozic should be healed up by now," Varen replied as he unrolled the crumpled paper.
"You're going back already? Shouldn't you stay..."
"Dad." Varen cut him off.
"Yes." His tone turned serious.
"How long has it been since this arrived?"
"A week or so. Didn't know you liked bounties now."
"No, it's a million Rells."
"Have you gone through the kitchen?"
"Won't this cause trouble in town? Did you at least tell Mr. Aashex?"
"I don't think anyone is stupid enough to do something too bold." He turned to face the window. "Aashex and I should have spoken by now, though, even with his aged bones."
"Alright, then."
He crumpled it once again and threw it out with everything else.
***
KNOCK
KNOCK
"I'm coming in," Faelan said as he opened the door.
Ria still lay in her bed, her hair spread in a semicircle.
"What do you want?" she replied sluggishly, her breath uneven.
"Are you okay?" Faelan asked, turning his face away.
"I'm fine." She sat up, the blanket slipping down. She wore nothing underneath.
Her skin glowed subtly under the morning sun streaming in through the window.
Did she stay like that all night?
"Put some clothes on."
"Alright," she replied, getting up. "You didn't answer my question." She started putting on clothes.
"I'm going to get food. Any non-expensive preference?"
"You're cooking?" she said, her expression brightening.
"No, we're out. I don't have enough money to make something from scratch."
"Then we get more money." Her tone died down. "I'm done."
She had on black cloth trousers and a gray T-shirt. Her blue-black hair was still tangled.
"Just tell me what you want to eat."
"Doel chops, sauced in heavy charik gravy, perhaps baked into a meat pie."
The voice came from behind Faelan.
"We don't have any of that." Faelan turned to Aashex.
"Yes, very disappointing. Let's go."
"Go where?" Faelan replied in an annoyed tone.
"To get food, but we'll take a while," Aashex replied, still walking.
Faelan sighed.
"Here." He tossed a coin at Ria, who caught it in a swift gesture. "Get some food."
He followed Aashex, petting Niri on his way out.
"You've been going out and about these past few days. Any reason why?" Aashex remarked as they went into the streets.
"Just taking a look around. Is it a problem?" Faelan replied.
"No, and...?"
"And?"
"What did you find, you dumbass?" Aashex retorted.
That wasn't necessary.
"The prices of everything are on the high side. A lot of shops sell weapons. There doesn't seem to be anything that maintains law."
If there is law, he thought to himself.
"And for a city this large, there aren't walls."
"The prices are high because there's nothing out here. There's always a market for weapons, so it's good business. I assure you, there is something keeping what you would call law. And walls aren't needed."
They stopped at a staircase leading to a long platform that connected two towering buildings. Nearby was a wide sand road that split the town in two.
"Do you know why we're climbing over it?"
"I was told because it's dangerous."
"It is. By who?"
"A doctor. She usually sits by the stone."
"Which stone?"
"The one down that way." Faelan gestured in the direction they were coming from. "Are there more than one?"
"Just two. There's another in this part of town." He gestured forward as they crossed the platform. "The doctor is Akedi. Did she tell you why it's dangerous?"
"Not the details."
"It's mostly safe, but it'll be better to avoid it."
Faelan's eyes drifted to another missing-person poster, but he kept walking.
Shortly after, they came to a structure. It was different from the other buildings. Its walls looked maintained and were a bright orange.
Faelan looked at the sign on it.
Grymsly's Meal Hall.
Aashex entered first, then Faelan followed.
The inside was large, with stone tables spread throughout the building, chairs arranged around them. They went behind a smooth counter and through another door.
"Mr. Aashex, welcome," a tall man in his early thirties greeted.
"You're usually not here this early," a woman in her mid-twenties remarked.
"It's my kitchen. If I want to be here before sunrise, I will." Aashex looked around. "The delivery isn't here yet."
"No, Kharce isn't here yet," the woman replied.
"That boy better not be doing free labor at my expense," he grunted, then gestured to Faelan. "This is Faelan. From today, he'll be joining you."
"Joining what?"
"Are you blind? This is a kitchen. What do you think?" he retorted, turning back to them. "Put him to work."
Aashex said before walking away.
So this is what he meant when he said we'd get food.
"Mr. Aashex is always like that. Don't let it get to you. I'm Norren." The man stretched a hand out to Faelan. It had the same seared tattoo on it.
Faelan stared for a moment before taking it.
Norren's dark brown eyes fixed on Faelan, puzzled.
Faelan's gaze caught the same mark on the woman's neck.
"I'm Bhrithel," she remarked, noticing his gaze.
"Brittle?"
"No, Bhrithel," she repeated, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"You should get an apron from the storage room," Nerron interjected, pointing to a door.
Faelan went in.
"Why are you agitated?"
"I'm not. Maybe I am. Why was he looking at my neck like that?"
"Why would I know?"
Faelan came out wearing a deep blue apron.
They heard a loud humming sound from the door leading outside.
"That should be Kharce. Help him get the things inside," Norren said.
Faelan gave a nod and went outside.
A truck was parked by the door. The driver got out of the car. He had dark green hair matching his glassy emerald eyes.
He looked young enough to still be in his teens. He stopped in front of Faelan, studying him.
There's a new employee. I should try to be getting here earlier, the young man thought to himself.
"Hello there, I'm Kharce." The boy stretched out his hand.
Faelan took it.
He drove that.
Faelan looked to the truck.
How old is he?
"That question again?" Kharce sighed. "I turned nineteen last month."
Faelan's eyes widened.
Kharce let go of Faelan's hand and opened the truck door.
I didn't say that out loud.
"Help me with this, please." He gestured to a large box.
"Sure," Faelan replied, lifting it.
"You're pretty strong. You don't look too muscle-ly, though. And if you don't mind me asking, why are your knuckles like that?"
Muscle-ly?
"It's complicated."
Faelan and Kharce carried the boxes inside.
"You were late again. Mr. Aashex is going to dock your pay one of these days," Bhrithel said to Kharce.
"It wasn't my fault. The place I usually get milk from, their bauturs got sick, so I had to go somewhere else. Otherwise, I would've actually been here earlier."
"If you say so. Let's get started and get you on your way." She turned to Nerron.
"It's just one order. It shouldn't take long," Nerron assured her as they began prepping.