Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 44: The Whisper of Coins

Chapter 44: The Whisper of Coins

Two days passed.

The kind of days you barely dare enjoy, afraid they’ll vanish too soon.

We spent them wandering through the lower districts, tasting sweets a little too expensive for our budget, and lingering in front of windows filled with useless but fascinating trinkets. Lysara never asked for anything, of course, but her glances spoke for her. I made sure to read between the silences.

We crossed paths with street artists playing crystal harps, a fire-breather with shifting tattoos, and even a tamer of runic fireflies that danced in circles around a laughing child. For a moment, the city didn’t feel like a dark fortress, but like a place truly alive.

On the evening of the second day, I had to pay for an extra night at the inn, nibbling away a bit more of our precious coin stash. The pile of coins was getting dangerously low. But hey... at least we slept well. And warm.

I settled into bed, letting out a soft sigh.

— It’s official... We’re rich in memories, I whispered.

In the room next door, no sound. But I knew she’d heard me.

And that it suited her just fine.

The next morning, I was woken... not by the rays of sun filtering through the curtains, as usual, but by knocks at the door. Three, sharp and firm.

Those two days had drifted by, like soap bubbles in a world too rough. We had laughed. Well, mostly I had. But she’d listened. And sometimes, I thought I heard her breathing differently. Freer.

I groaned softly as I sat up, still half asleep, then quickly pulled on my clothes — not the new ones, of course, those were still in the works.

I opened the door, hair messy, mind still elsewhere.

Standing before me was a guild employee. Dark tunic, seal engraved on the belt, looking rushed.

— It’s ready. Everything’s finally set, he said bluntly. The Guildmaster is asking for you. Immediately.

I raised an eyebrow, my heart beating a bit faster. Finally.

Behind me, without a word, the door to the next room opened.

Lysara stepped out, already ready. No noise, no glance, just that way she had of slipping into my wake like she’d heard every word from the start.

I looked at her briefly, then nodded.

— Very well. Show us the way.

And without another word, we followed the employee through the still-quiet morning streets, heading toward the guild.

Once there, the usual receptionist greeted us. Not a word too many, just a slight nod, then she motioned for us to follow her upstairs.

We climbed the dark stone steps to the first floor, quieter, more hushed. The air felt drier there, as if filtered by the weight of decisions made within.

She stopped before a heavy wooden door, carved with ancient runes and a metallic insignia of a scale resting on a blade.

She knocked twice, then opened it.

Inside sat a man of imposing stature, dressed in a long coat of reinforced leather, behind a desk cluttered with scrolls, registers, and reading gems.

— Hello. Sit down, he said simply, without raising his voice.

I sat down without a word, Lysara settling next to me, just as upright, just as silent as ever.

The Guildmaster set down his stylus, then folded his hands.

— To tell you the truth... I was about to refuse you the map.

He paused.

— But my wife likes you. She forced my hand. So... here.

I frowned, surprised.

His wife?

Then, like lightning, the realization struck. Slowly, I turned toward the door... and met the amused gaze of the receptionist, still standing in the doorway. She gave me a slight, knowing smile.

I chuckled softly.

— Ah... so that was it.

The Guildmaster handed me a carefully rolled object: a map.

— It’s rare. Very detailed. A copy that precise is worth a small fortune. Take care of it.

I took it with respect, feeling the weight of the enchanted paper in my hands. The grain was thick, the ink shimmering, almost alive under the light.

— Thank you, I replied simply.

But he was already continuing, flipping a page in his register.

— Now then, let’s talk about the swarm.

He glanced at me, almost amused.

— I thought I had gauged your strength... but it seems I was mistaken. Age clouds judgment sometimes, ahah...

I stayed humble, my words sincere.

— They weren’t very high-rank creatures. Really. I’d take that swarm any day over... that Xylorath sovereign tiger, I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the comparison, then consulted a notebook.

— 1,738 Zar’Kha killed.

A shiver ran down my spine. Hearing the number out loud... was something else.

He turned a page.

— We recovered all the obsidian shells, but they were in bad shape. That reduced their value by a third.

Then, calmly, he continued:

— 13,904 chitin blades, sorted and counted. Good quality overall, some already sold to blacksmith artisans.

— As for the segmented tails, more than half were unusable. The inner marrow was too damaged, probably due to your... direct method. But we still managed to extract 694 in good condition.

Finally, he closed his notebook on the last line:

— And to finish... the ocular glands. Many also unusable — too shattered or corrupted. But 1,436 were recovered.

I remained silent for a moment, processing the numbers.

It wasn’t just a good contract.

It was a feat.

And in a way, even if I hadn’t been seeking glory... it felt good to see it in black and white.

The Guildmaster calmly turned one last page, then grabbed a metallic quill.

— So, let’s do the math.

He jotted down a few quick calculations, then looked up at me.

— If we go with a base of 4 Drek per shell, and deduct a third due to the damage, that gives us a total of about 5,400 Drek.

I raised my eyebrows.

That alone was huge.

But he continued, unflinching.

— Next, the chitin blades. We’re at 1 Drek apiece, so that makes 13,904 Drek.

My mouth opened a bit more. Unconsciously.

I wasn’t breathing anymore.

And he continued. Mercilessly.

— The ocular glands are highly sought after by alchemists. 6 Drek each. Which gives us... 8,616 Drek.

I wasn’t blinking anymore.

My jaw had completely dropped.

My tongue hung slightly. A droplet of drool was seriously threatening to fall from my chin.

— Which brings us to a grand total of 27,920 Drek, he concluded calmly.

I finally blinked. Once. Slowly.

He added, almost with a smile:

— As promised, you get 20%. That’s...

He noted the amount with an almost poetic fluidity.

— 5,584 Drek. Which equals... 55 Varkh, 8 Zarn, and 4 Drek.

I stood still. Silent.

I wasn’t sure I was alive at that moment.

I slowly turned to Lysara, who was staring at me with her large, empty eyes.

She, of course, showed nothing.

But her fingers, folded over her knees, tightened slightly.

A detail. A flicker of emotion. Enough to tell me she understood.

But me?

I was on the verge of crying, laughing, or fainting.

I had just gone from broke... to absurdly rich.

And this time, not even the kid’s magic hammer on her back could bring me back down.

— My wife will hand you the coins at the front desk, said the Guildmaster as he closed his ledger.

I nodded, still a bit dazed, trying to slowly recover from the flood of emotions. My heart was still pounding. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

55 Varkh... Good gods.

I cleared my throat, gathering what little seriousness I had left.

— I have a question. I plan to go train. Do you know a place... let’s say, crawling with monsters, but at a higher level than what’s around here?

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

— Ah, youth... Always chasing the next challenge, he said with a low chuckle.

A bit embarrassed, I lowered my head slightly. I didn’t know what to say.

Maybe I sounded like I was chasing danger for the thrill...

But the truth was, I didn’t have a choice. Not really.

I had to get stronger. Fast.

The world around me wasn’t going to wait, and I... I couldn’t afford to stay the same. Not if I wanted to protect what mattered.

But he resumed, more serious this time.

— Show me your map.

I carefully unrolled the precious parchment I’d received earlier. He delicately took it and spread it out on the table. With a finger, he pointed to an area at the edge of the lands I knew.

— Look... here. We are here, at the border between Kharz’Gorath and Zagnaroth.

He lightly traced the southern mountain range with his finger.

— If you go deeper into Zagnaroth, you’ll find a chain of large black rock mountains. And further still... volcanoes.

He paused.

— Up there, in the heights, it’s a true nest of creatures, each more dangerous than the last. Fierce monsters, unpredictable, some half-elemental, others mutated by the old energies of the earth. If you’re looking for a challenge... you’ll find it there.

I looked at the marked area.

A shiver ran through me.

It was exactly what I was looking for.

I carefully stored the map again, my heart still heavy with everything that moment meant.

Then I turned to the Guildmaster... and to his wife, still leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, that eternal half-smile on her lips.

I took a light breath.

— Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.

I could feel the weight of these past two weeks compress in my chest.

Everything we had lived here. Gained, lost, learned. It was more than just a stopover.

I let a brief silence settle.

— This might be a farewell... and I’ll never thank you enough.

The Guildmaster looked at me for a few seconds, then slowly nodded, his gaze more serious than earlier.

— You’ve got what it takes, kid. Don’t waste this chance.

I bowed slightly to the Guildmaster... then turned one last time to her. His wife. The receptionist. Always there, in the shadow of the doorframe, watching us with that same impassive, piercing expression.

— Thank you for everything, I whispered.I won’t be coming back.

She didn’t seem surprised. As if she’d known from the start.

Without a word, she walked down the stairs with us.

Back in the main hall, she stepped behind the counter and pulled out a small chest reinforced with black leather straps and a runic lock. She opened it wordlessly, then counted the coins with mechanical precision.

55 Varkh, 8 Zarn, and 4 Drek.

She placed the sum in a pouch tied with a string, then handed it to me over the counter’s wooden surface.

I took it, without a word. The leather of the pouch almost burned my fingers. Too real to be a dream.

She looked at me. Her gaze had softened slightly. Just a bit.

And she said, simply:

— Don’t die stupid.

No grand declarations.

Just those words, blunt, direct. Like an order. Or advice from an old soldier.

I smiled.

— I’ll do my best.

Then, without looking back, I pocketed the pouch, tucked it into my satchel, and left the guild.

Behind me, the doors closed.

Ahead of me, the road to Zagnaroth opened.

And this time, I wasn’t alone.

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