At first, Stein doubted that the city was actually in the direction the girl had pointed, but it made sense that she and her crew would move in the opposite direction.
They were outlaws; the city was no place for them. Even still, the nagging suspicion that he was being played and led to die remained.
It would be brilliant: rob newbies, or brownies as they were called, and direct them away from the city so they couldn't seek payback. You could even convince yourself that you weren't responsible for their death.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that he was being played. The smart thing would be to find shelter and walk at night when it was cool, but Stein didn't have that option.
After walking for just half an hour, everything burned: his skin, his throat, chest, and feet felt like they were beside a raging fire. The thick brown boots he had spawned with quickly proved themselves incapable of providing proper insulation against the heat. His head hurt and his clothes were soaked in sweat.
He turned back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy from earlier, only to see nothing but the unending carpet of dirt. He gritted his teeth and kept moving
To say he was thirsty was an understatement. Being under the punishing heat of the sun had also weakened him greatly. If not for the extra Agility stats, he would have been about to collapse. He still felt like he could go on for now.
The situation was incredibly stupid—dumping him in the middle of nowhere with no guide. How was he supposed to survive? To lose his life because of a bout of bad luck would be infuriating.
Just as the dread of his situation was setting in, Stein's eyes picked up strange shapes far ahead of him. He didn't pay much attention at first; it could just be his imagination. He kept walking, and after a few minutes he was sure it wasn't his imagination. There were strange, dirt-colored structures. The bandits hadn't lied about the town, but it was still so far away.
Another thirty minutes passed, and Stein's lips cracked. Every part of him hurt. There was barely any sweat on him now, his body was trying to conserve water. The only thing keeping him moving was the sight of the city ahead. Like a Zombie his hands hung low as he kept matching forward.
The sandy desert began to sway beneath his feet, making him fall to his knees. The hot sand burned his hands as he struggled to his feet. He was so close. If he could just hold on for another thirty minutes, he was certain he would reach it.
Stein felt like crying when he was finally before the city wall. Unfortunately, there was not a single drop of tears left in his eyes.
At that moment a system notification flashed before his eyes.
There were wagons and carriages spread out, with numerous strange insect-like beasts. Large pieces of cloth and hide stretched from mounted wooden poles, creating canopies of shade around the entrance.
The city had sand-colored mud walls with a wide, open wooden gate. Camouflage? The guards on either side of the gate must have been used to seeing adventurers on the brink of dehydration as they barely spared him a glance as he staggered into the city.
Stein lifted a hand as he squinted his eyes at the reflection from the white paint that seemed to be everywhere. He stuck to the side of the road, making way for traffic ehile walking walked farther in.
Stein approached a row of shops to his left. The women running the shops watched him with a hint of fascination and pity.
"Water," he couldn't recognise his own voice. It sounded so strange and hoarse.
One of the shop owners pointed ahead, her face a mix of pity and bewilderment. Stein followed her finger to a well at the center of a clearing. He somehow managed to get himself there and was about to lay his fingers on it when strong arms grabbed him and pushed him back.
He was so close. There was water right in front of him—why couldn't he take it?
Like a Zombie he charged forward again only to be pushed back.
"One Spiro per bucket," a harsh voice instructed.
Stein's thoughts were sluggish as he tried to make sense of the words. Spiro? Bucket? Then he remembered the coins were called Spiros.
He dug his hand into his pocket producing one of the bronze coins the girl had given him. He offered it to the man who lifted it to his face inspecting it, Stein's heart sand at the thought of it being fake, but the man turned to his companion giving a single nod. There was a distant hollow splash as a bucket was thrust into the well.
The wait was agonizing. The whole process was so slow and tiring. Stein wanted to scream at them to be faster, but there was barely any strength left in him.
A small wooden bucket full of water was placed in front of him, an d he collapsed into it headfirst, gulping and choking. When he had had his fill, he turned the bucket over his head, dousing himself in the cool water before collapsing on the spot.
"Step back or you'll get the spear!"
"Scum!"
Stein forced himself to lift his head. The guards at the well were bearing their spears, trying to drive back a small mob of boys and girls. Like Stein, they all wore brown sacks. They were pale and bony, with cracked lips and angry, wild eyes.
"He has spiros!" one of them pointed at Stein. "He'll pay for us."
Suddenly, dozens of expectant eyes were on Stein.
One of the guards turned to him with an impatient look. "Well?"
Stein pressed a palm to his face.