Michael awoke to Ollie’s gangly limbs awkwardly hanging off of him and gently extricated himself. It wasn’t really his fault, they were both much too large to squeeze into the small bed together. If they were going to be there for a week they’d probably have to take turns sleeping on the floor going forward. The first night though, he’d fallen asleep on the bed too quickly to negotiate and Ollie wasn’t going to be on the floor on their first night with a bed. The sun was only just coming up, which meant that Michael had slept in more than usual
He made his way downstairs to find a young man manning the desk, dozing just as his father had been the previous night. Michael gave him a copper for a clean water basin and then went back upstairs.
He made his way to his pack and pulled out a mixture of his least smelly clothes and laid them out. It included a tusinian shirt, wool pants from the Svict village, and his trusty Stent boots that he was certain would need to be resoled soon.
There was a knock on the door and Michael found a basin filled with tepid water and two mostly cleaned towels, and a small bar of soap. He placed a finger into the water and whispered, “caliente” channeling some of his magicka to bring the water to a pleasant temperature. Once he was done he gave himself a thorough full body scrub, actually dumping the water and buying another basin before he was done. He worked his fingers through the painful knots of his hair to bring it as close to acceptable as he could make it, then he got out his hand mirror to shave with his elven dagger. He’d kept it nice and sharp, perhaps too sharp as he wound up needing to heal a few nicks near his Adam's apple.
When he was done he felt better than he had in a month. A full night's sleep in a bed, followed by being clean? That was impossible to beat. He left his sword and shield, but buckled his dagger to his waist.
Ollie groaned a bit as he woke up and stretched.
Michael grabbed the basin and moved toward the window shutter to dump it again.
“Wait,” said Ollie. “I’ll use it.”
Michael frowned at the sloshing brown water. “You sure? I mean, I realize Aussies don’t have as much of a problem with filth since you're descended from convicts, but this seems extreme.”
Ollie stood up and reached a long arm into the basin, placing a single finger into the water, he slowly drew it out, and a concentrated sphere of dirt and grim formed until the water itself was completely clear.
“It’s a modified water purification spell,” he said as he tossed the vile sphere into the street below. “I think it’ll save me a few coppers.”
Michael nodded. “We probably do need to be thrifty for a while. I’ve got a handful of silvers, coppers, and a gold piece, but who knows how long we’ll need to stretch things out?”
Ollie started stripping, using a different spell to clean one of the towels and grabbing the bar of soap.
Michael shook his head. “Hopefully we’ll all have separate rooms someday. I think we’re all getting a little too comfortable with one another?”
“What, you don’t like seeing my ass every morning?”
“Well… it’s at least an improvement over seeing your face.”
Ollie laughed as he started washing himself and Michael walked out into the hall. A woman with short brown hair and a sword buckled at her waist was leaving her room at the same time. Michael gave her a quick nod that she hesitatingly returned and then he made his way downstairs. He hadn’t taken a lot of time to look around the inn the previous day, but while it was dingy, it seemed sturdy and well built. There was a common area with a long wooden bench a few feet from a fireplace and some large rugs for people to lay down and lounge on as well. All of it needed a scrub and a dusting, but it could be much worse, and it certainly beat being on the road.
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He was the first one downstairs, so decided to step outside for a bit to get his bearings while everyone else was waking up. It was still early, but already he saw a number of traders retrieving their goods from warehouses and their mounts from stables. There were men and women making their way into different businesses, the soft clink clink of a blacksmith working in his shop could be heard in the distance, children played in the street, and a few bleary eyed mercenaries were stumbling into inns from a long night of hard drinking.
Michael started to walk along the street and soak all of it in. He hadn’t really been a country or a city person back on Earth. He’d lived in a lot of different parts of the US, had to move around quite a bit. He always preferred to live close to a small city, but not too close. The perfect distance to enjoy the amenities of it without having to endure the problems that came with it. The plan when he and Sara had retired had been to downsize and move into a small townhouse where they could help Victor with his new baby.
Michael rubbed his hand and frowned as he thought of them. If time was the same between their worlds the baby would be almost a year old by now. He would’ve smiled and laughed for the first time, maybe started crawling unless he was like his dad then he’d skip straight to walking once he figured out balancing himself against furniture. At least Sara was getting to enjoy that time with them.
He let out a sigh and looked down the street, the sky was still purple from the sunrise and massive clouds were rolling across the while the three moons still hung barely visible behind the clouds. He’d trade the view to go back home in an instant, but at least he had the view. He kept walking down the streets, eventually coming across the blacksmith. Unlike the one they encountered, this one seemed very experienced with swords and armor and there was already a small line of mercs there to pick things up and drop them off.
He kept walking until his nose brought him to a small bakery. He walked inside and saw two of the Winged, the bird people he’d seen in the dark the previous night. Their arms seemed extraordinarily long and were covered in feathers. They themselves appeared to be only around five feet tall. One of them had long black feathers that reminded Michael of a crow, and the other was piebald, though looked similar enough that he guessed they were family.
“Welcome,” said one of them, fluttering up a bit to stand on a stool behind a counter. It sounded like a parrot his uncle had had.
“Hey. I was hoping to get some fresh bread, maybe some butter if you have it.”
“We do, we do!” it said, hopping down and sending a number of clicks and squawks down to the bird at the over behind him.
“Two copper,” said the winged as it hopped back up onto the stool. Michael nodded and placed the coins into his taloned hands. Shortly after he was handed a dark and heavy piece of bread along with a small wrapped circle of butter.
“Thank you,” he said and walked out onto the street, breaking off a piece of the bread and tearing into it with his teeth. It was absolutely delicious, and he took a moment to balance everything in his hands on the side of the road as he spread a bit of butter on the next bite before trying it. It was perfect, though he found himself wishing he had something warm to wash it down with.
He made his way back to the inn, taking note of what stores there were and where the majority of mercs seemed to be gathered so he could tell the others what to expect. He noted what seemed to be a book shop. That meant they likely had a bit different of a system when it came to the written word than Stent had, had. He thought of Meera as he passed it and felt the weight of the six sided pendant she’d given him. He hoped she was doing well.
Before he reached the inn, he took a few moments to say some prayers. He said one to Seras, and one to Nykas to thank them. Then he said one for his companions, and an extra for Lance who he’d hoped was safe. At the rate he was collecting gods and people to worry about, he’d need to start carving out some real time for prayer every day.
He looked along the street a bit more, just observing things a bit as he had a bit more of his bread. The streets were busier than when he’d first woken up. He noticed a lot more mercs starting to make their way onto the street. He also saw a merchant with a man in chains behind him carrying several heavy sacks. Michael wasn’t sure, but he thought the man must’ve been a taker based on the fact that he was muttering lyrics to the song ‘Sixteen Tons’ while he moved.
He saw a few others that seemed to be indentured or perhaps even enslaved. It made sense that parents would be able to choose slavery for takers just as easily as freedom, but it did make him wary of sharing his own status with the people there. He also wasn't entirely certain that they were all takers. He was only able to identify one taker the seemed well off, a man referring to his old donkey as ‘seabiscut’ rather loudly. Though that wasn’t a surefire tell as Michael had no clue how much cross cultural contamination there had been over the years.
He made his way to the inn and went inside, finding the others all gathered in the common area.
“Welcome back brother, did you go and heal the whole town before we woke up?” asked Pyotr with a smile.
“Didn’t have the time. I stuck with building an orphanage.”
Marcus sniffed the air a bit. “You going to share some of that bread, or what?”