Chapter 11 : His First Step

  They travelled for three days—until the capital, Ealdoria, rose before them.

  The carriage rattled to a stop.

  Merchants yelled. Coins clinked. Customers argued. Children ran past, laughing, nearly colliding with passing carts.

  Life everywhere.

  Aspen blinked. “…It’s brighter than I expected.”

  Ryl clutched his bag tighter, knuckles white. “Aspen… I don’t feel right…”

  “What now?” Aspen sighed. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

  Ryl leaned closer, whispering like the city might hear him.

  “It feels like we’re walking straight into our funeral…”

  Aspen stared at him.

  “Seriously? Then whose funeral has this much joy?”

  Ryl swallowed. “…Maybe ours?”

  Aspen grabbed his hand. “Stop it. Come, we still have to find an inn.”

  “But—”

  He dragged him without giving him a chance to argue.

  They stopped before a cracked wooden inn, its gloomy presence unsettling. The name board tilted at an awkward angle, barely clinging on by rusty nails.

  “Aspen!!” Ryl flinched.

  “Do you really want us to stay HERE?!”

  “Yes,” Aspen said calmly. “It's thanks to SOMEONE who wasted all our money on complete nonsense.”

  “They weren’t nonsense!” Ryl snapped.

  “They are useful!!”

  Aspen grabbed Ryl’s bag and pulled out a…

  Wooden duck whistle.

  “It sounded cute!!” Ryl squealed.

  Aspen blew it.

  Quooonk-hwonk!

  “…Ridiculous.”

  Ryl pouted.

  Next, Aspen pulled out a mirror.

  “We can use it!!” Ryl grabbed it from him and pointed it toward his reflection.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Look!!”

  Aspen shook his head and pulled out another item.

  “And this?” He held a small pouch filled with rocks.

  “That’s a good luck charm!!” Ryl snatched it back.

  “To stay alive!!”

  Aspen dragged a hand down his face.

  “Ryl… how can mere pebbles keep you alive…?”

  Ryl hugged the pouch to his chest, quietly looking away.

  Aspen gave up as they stepped inside.

  Inside the inn was somehow worse—faded walls, cracked floors, dust that probably gained sentience years ago.

  Creeeeak!

  The floor literally groaned when they stepped on it.

  Ryl muttered, regretting spending the money. “Aspen’s inn is far better…”

  Then—

  A pale, bald figure slipped out of the shadows, his white clothes glowing eerily in the dim light.

  “Welcome, sirs! How many da—”

  “GHOST!! THERE’S A GHOST!!” Ryl shrieked, already spinning to bolt.

  Aspen snagged him by the back of his collar, tired.

  “Ryl. He’s not a ghost. He’s a human.”

  Ryl peeked over his shoulder, trembling.

  “…Then why is he dressed like a spirit…?”

  The pale man smiled serenely.

  “I assure you, young sir… I am very much alive.”

  “STOP SMILING LIKE TH—”

  Bonk!

  Aspen rammed his head before he could finish.

  After a few awkward apologies, Aspen negotiated the price.

  “We will be staying for three days.”

  “It will be nine silver coins, sir.”

  “Three,” Aspen replied without blinking.

  The owner’s smile cracked. “It's highly improper, sir!”

  Ryl muttered under his breath. “For THIS creaky, shabby, old—”

  Bonk!

  Another hit.

  Aspen cleared his throat. “Three.”

  “Seven.”

  “Three.”

  “…Fine.” The owner gave up.

  Aspen grinned victoriously as Ryl sighed, as if his soul had already left his body.

  The owner slid a key across the counter.

  “Second floor. Room number three.”

  Aspen took it, and the two headed up the stairs.

  The building was dead silent—nothing but the creak of each step… and Ryl’s heartbeat practically thudding out of his chest.

  “A-Aspen… let’s go back… please…” Ryl whimpered, on the verge of tears.

  Aspen kept walking, completely unmoved.

  As he opened the door, cobwebs greeted them.

  “He really took three silver coins for this…” he muttered.

  Aspen grabbed a bucket of water and a duster from who-knows-where.

  “We’re cleaning.”

  Ryl stared. “W-where did you get those?! And we just came—”

  Aspen glared with an intensity that could burn him as Ryl shivered. “Scary…”

  He shoved the duster into his hands.

  Minutes later, the room sparkled like new. Aspen’s anger faded, replaced by a blissful smile.

  “That was tiring…” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  Ryl had already collapsed onto the bed, completely exhausted.

  Aspen glanced at him and said, “Come on. It’s time for lunch.”

  Ryl’s eyes immediately gleamed.

  They ate outside.

  Halfway through the meal, Aspen brought it up casually. “I’m going to join the Merchant Guild.”

  Ryl paused. “Are you sure you can handle both jobs?”

  Aspen nodded. “I’m sure. Of course, it’ll only be part-time.”

  “Your wish,” Ryl mumbled.

  After paying, they stood to leave as Aspen turned to him.

  “I’m heading to register. Will you come?”

  Ryl shook his head, yawning. “Nah, I’m fine. I just want some rest…”

  “Fine. Then stay at the inn—and don’t buy unnecessary things again. Got it?” Aspen warned before leaving.

  _ _ _

  Aspen reached the Merchant Guild.

  The building was old and sturdy, its wooden walls darkened by time. Inside, the floorboards were scuffed from years of boots, carts, and heavy crates being dragged across them.

  His heart thumped—not from nervousness, but from anxious excitement.

  The air buzzed with murmurs, the smell of ink, the scratch of quills, heated bargaining over goods, the dull thuds of sacks hitting counters, and nobles arguing over properties.

  Aspen’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in. “It’s livelier than I thought…”

  He walked to the counter.

  “Hello! I want to register as a travelling merchant.”

  “Oh! Yes, sir. And what will you be selling?”

  “Herbs.”

  “Alright. Please fill out this form.”

  The guild worker handed him a sheet.

  Aspen quickly wrote down his details and returned it.

  “Okay, sir. Let me explain the system,” she said, sorting through the papers.

  “There are five merchant ranks:

  Platinum

  Gold

  Silver

  Bronze

  Copper

  Platinum is the highest, copper the lowest. Once you reach Gold, you’ll have permission to open a permanent shop. Until then, you’ll work as a gatherer and start from Copper. As the rarity and value of your goods increase, we can promote you.”

  Aspen nodded silently, absorbing every detail.

  The worker placed a freshly stamped card on the desk.

  “Here is your license. You can take quests from the board over there.”

  She pointed to the far end of the room.

  He nodded again and headed over.

  “Woah… there are so many quests,” he mumbled, scanning the board.

  “Where’s the herb one… found it!”

  He plucked the paper off and took it to the counter to get it stamped.

  Then he stepped out of the guild, reading as he walked.

  “So this quest is to collect all the herbs on this list…”

  He stopped mid-step.

  “Wait. These are all hill herbs?! So I do have to climb a hill?!”

  Aspen let out a long, tragic sigh. “Great… no other choice, I guess.”

  A few minutes later, he reached the base of a hill and began foraging.

  It wasn’t easy—he kept mixing up weeds for proper herbs, proudly collecting them only to realise he was completely wrong.

  “So I’ve got half… still half left,” he groaned.

  He scanned the area. “Where can I even find Red Sage…?”

  Then—

  Something moved in the bushes.

  “Huh? What’s that?” Aspen crouched, stepping closer. When he pushed aside the leaves, he froze.

  A small boy lay unconscious on the ground.

  Aspen tried to wake him by shaking his shoulder—but the boy didn’t respond.

  He panicked.

  He checked the child’s body and spotted a purplish bruise on his foot… with two tiny puncture marks as his eyes widened,

  “A snake bite!!”

  *****

  Chapter 12 : The Hunters Test