It wasn't every day you saw an improvised cart carrying something so large and shapeless, roughly covered by dirty tarpaulins, being pulled by a robust horse ridden by a somber-looking elf and a delicate horned girl. The murmurs and stares followed them like shadows as they advanced.
As they approached the capital, the city's grandeur began to assert itself. Imposing walls, built with dark stones marked by time and past battles, rose so high they seemed to scratch the grayish sky.
The wall stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see, a stone serpent encircling a pulsating metropolis.
The city's noise, a constant hum of thousands of voices, hammering, creaking carts, and screaming animals, could already be heard even from a distance, mixed with the smell of wood smoke, sewage, and an infinity of other urban fragrances.
Its massive black iron gates, guarded by men dressed in equally dark and intimidating armor, remained open during the day, welcoming (or perhaps just tolerating) anyone willing to do business. Of course, this hospitality came at a price. A tribute, an entrance fee, had to be paid to the grumpy guards to enter the walls.
The guards, seasoned veterans who had probably seen a bit of everything, showed no great surprise at the monstrous head of the Bakurak under the torn tarp. Perhaps even more bizarre creatures had already crossed those gates. Still, it wasn't exactly common for someone to arrive dragging the hunting trophy of such a beast.
Colin, even unintentionally, had his five minutes of fame there in the entrance line, attracting glances that ranged from cautious admiration to pure astonishment.
He used some of the gold coins he had "acquired" from the destroyed imperial squad to pay the required fee. The sight of those black armors still sent shivers down his spine, and Safira instinctively cringed behind him.
There was an aura of contained danger in them. They were soldiers, not mere gatekeepers.
After handing over the payment, which was received with a grunt and an indifferent nod, they were finally allowed to pass. As soon as they crossed the colossal arch of the iron gate, the impact of the capital hit them full force.
The noise increased exponentially, becoming a deafening cacophony. A tide of people—humans, orcs, dwarves, elves of all kinds, beast-men with animalistic features, and even small greenish goblins—flowed through the wide, dirty streets, each absorbed in their own affairs.
The smell was an overwhelming mixture of food frying in rancid oil, sweat, animal dung, exotic perfumes, incense burning in distant temples, and the omnipresent stench of the alleys.
It was an organized, vibrant, and dangerous chaos. Taverns with suggestive names like "The Drunken Golem" or "The Thirsty Mermaid" competed for space with shops selling everything: fine clothes and gleaming armor, exotic animal skins hung like macabre tapestries, weapons of all types and sizes, magical artifacts humming with contained energy, and jewels sparkling under the faint sunlight that managed to penetrate between the tall buildings.
Colin had never seen anything like it. It was like being thrown headfirst into one of those medieval fantasy stories he read in his old world, but everything there was real, palpable, and potentially lethal.
His wide eyes tried to absorb everything. Huge orcs, with green skin and protruding tusks, walked with heavy strides, ignoring the smaller ones. Beast-men with wolf snouts or cat ears lurked in the corners.
Haughty elves, with an almost ethereal beauty, glided through the crowd with disdain. Stocky dwarves, with braided beards and axes at their waists, argued loudly. And the goblins, quick and stealthy, seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
As they slowly advanced down the main street, pulling the horse by the reins, vendors shouted their offers.
"Griffin eggs! Fresh! Take one and train your own winged mount!" yelled a man with a colorful turban.
"Basilisk eggs! Guaranteed protection against thieves!" announced another, with a toothless grin.
"Giant snakes! Great for guarding treasures!" hissed a third, with reptilian eyes.
Several of them tried to get Colin's attention, waving and showing their exotic and dangerous wares.
But it wasn't just fantastic animals and artifacts that were for sale. In darker side streets, women in revealing clothes and heavy makeup called men and women into brothels with faded velvet doors, promising carnal pleasures. And, in an open square, under the indifferent gaze of the guards, an even darker trade took place: that of slaves.
Beings of various races, chained and with empty eyes, were displayed on improvised platforms, while auctioneers touted their qualities and prices.
"Hey, kid!" A hoarse, loud voice made Colin turn. A bald man, with muscles that seemed about to tear the barbaric and colorful tunic he wore, stood there, arms crossed. A necklace made of teeth of different sizes and shapes adorned his thick neck. He stared intently at the covered cargo on the cart. "You seem to be carrying something... interesting there. How about letting an old merchant take a peek?"
The man approached, the smell of tanned leather and something wilder emanating from him. "I've never seen you around these parts. Where are you from, huh? Bramberia? Caliman? Or did you come from the icy lands of Valeria? Or perhaps from the country of the Dark Elves?"
Colin frowned, sizing the man up and down. He didn't like being approached that way, but the man's curiosity seemed genuine, and perhaps it was an opportunity. "Are you a beast merchant?"
The man let out a short, loud laugh.
"Heh! I thought my natural charm made that obvious!" He leaned over the cart and, without asking permission, pulled a corner of the tarp, revealing part of the Bakurak's hairy, fanged head.
His eyes widened minimally, and he spent a few seconds examining the creature, his rough hand resting on his unshaven chin. "Well, well... you caught a big one. Even as a cub, it's a fine specimen. Did you take down the beast yourself?"
"It was both of us," Colin replied, indicating Safira with a slight nod.
The bald man's gaze shifted from Colin to Safira and back, evaluating them. His thoughts were almost audible: The kid is strong for a dark elf. Strengthening magic, perhaps? But the girl... she looks like a twig, she'll break with a breath. Well, it's none of my business how they hunt, as long as they bring me the goods.
"Alright, alright. And how much do you want for this Bakurak head?" he asked, returning to merchant mode.
Colin was in unfamiliar territory. He had no idea of its market value, nor even how the local currency worked properly. "I don't know..." he admitted, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "How much do you think this beauty is worth?"
The bald man scratched his chin again, pretending to ponder. "Hmm... five hundred gold pieces. It's a good price for the head. If you had the whole body, then yes, I'd give you about three thousand." He ran his hand over the beast's thick, almost metallic fur. "The fur can still be melted down and mixed into alloys to make resistant armor." He forced the creature's mouth open, exposing its fangs. "And the teeth are intact. You can make some pretty decent daggers with them."
Colin nodded, processing the information. Without a word, he dismounted, drew his own dagger from his waist, opened the Bakurak's jaw again, and plunged the blade into the tough gum, circling the base of one of the enormous canines. With effort, he wiggled the tooth back and forth until it came loose with a wet snap. He repeated the process with the other canine, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
With the two enormous, bloody teeth in his hand, he turned to the merchant. "And now? How much is just the rest worth?"
A malicious smile appeared at the corner of the bald man's mouth.
New kid in the business, he thought. He has no idea that Bakuraks are as rare as dragon's teeth. Great for me, as long as he keeps bringing these carcasses.
"I'll keep my price," the bald man said aloud. "Five hundred gold pieces. But with one condition: if you find more carcasses of rare animals out there, bring them directly to me. Only to me, understood? Deal?"
Colin shrugged, putting the bloody teeth into a leather pouch he took from the saddle. "Alright. But you'd better not try to cheat me, bald man."
"Hehehe! I like your attitude, kid! Wild! Don't worry, my reputation was built on honesty... with those who deserve it. Wait here, I'll get the coins."
As the merchant walked away towards a shop crammed with cages and hanging furs, Colin and Safira stood there, the center of attention. The crowd around them whispered. Many there were students from the local academy, and they had already read about the fearsome Bakuraks in books. Seeing the head of one of them there, slain, was fascinating and a little frightening.
"Here it is!" The merchant returned, throwing a heavy leather bag onto the dirt floor. The metallic clinking was loud and clear. Colin picked up the bag, feeling its considerable weight. He opened the mouth of the bag and took out a coin. It was solid gold, and on one side was engraved the severe face of the current emperor of Ultan, wearing an elaborate crown.
Colin tied the bag of coins firmly to the horse's saddle, then untied the improvised cart, leaving the Bakurak's head for the merchant to deal with. He mounted the horse, helping Safira get on behind him.
"Hey, kid! What's your name?"
"Colin."
"Colin! Colin, the Bakurak Slayer! It was a pleasure doing business with you! Come back anytime!"
Without responding, Colin pulled the reins and guided the horse away from that spot, seeking to get out of the noisy crowd. Night was beginning to fall, painting the sky in darker shades, and they urgently needed a place to spend the night. The capital was gigantic; even if he walked all day, he wouldn't see even a tenth of it. And big cities like that, Colin knew from experience, were nests of crime when the shadows deepened.
His eyes found a worn wooden sign, hanging crookedly in front of a dubious-looking building. The carved letters read: "The One-Eyed Dwarf Inn." It didn't look like the most inviting place in the world, with its dark wood and small, dirty windows, but Colin wanted to save as much of the newly acquired gold as possible.
He tied the horse's reins to a wooden post in front of the inn, where there was a manger with some old hay. He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door, entering the establishment.
The interior was as rustic as the exterior suggested. A dark, scratched wooden counter dominated the small reception area. Behind it, sitting on a chair too tall for him, was the owner, unmistakably the One-Eyed Dwarf. A black leather eye patch covered his left eye, and a thick, somewhat oily red beard hid his mouth. He was smoking a long pipe and reading a leather-bound book, enveloped in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.
The dwarf raised his one good eye from the book and examined Colin and Safira with a sour expression. "Great. Another Dark Elf. This place is starting to look like a plague."
Colin ignored the hostility. He was already getting used to that kind of "welcome." "I want your best room."
The dwarf exhaled a puff of smoke, disdainfully. "The best room, huh? And do you have the money to pay?"
Without saying a word, Colin reached into his pants pocket, pulled out one of the newly acquired gold coins, and tossed it onto the counter.
The dwarf's single eye widened comically. He slammed the book shut with a thud, almost knocking the pipe from his mouth. His expression instantly changed from sour to subservient. "My noble Elf Lord! Welcome to the humble One-Eyed Dwarf Inn! The best room, of course, of course! Right away! Do you prefer a double bed... or perhaps two separate ones?" He cast a quick, mischievous glance at Safira. "I have a wonderful suite on the second floor, very discreet... I'm sure you and your... companion... will love it!" The dwarf lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, winking his good eye. "I guarantee the walls are thick, no one will hear anything, hehehe!"
"Two beds!" Colin replied, his voice sharp, with no patience for the dwarf's insinuations.
"Two beds, perfect! As you wish! Follow me, please, this way!"
The dwarf jumped from his chair and guided them up the stairs. They climbed two flights of creaking stairs until they reached a door at the end of the corridor.
The dwarf opened it with a large, rusty key. The room was surprisingly spacious and clean, considering the rest of the place. There were two large beds with seemingly clean sheets, nightstands, a mirror with a dark wooden frame on the wall, a small, worn sofa in a corner, an empty bookshelf, and even a small balcony overlooking a dark alley.
"If you need anything, anything at all, just call me! I'll be downstairs, at your disposal!" said the dwarf, rubbing his hands.
Colin merely nodded. The dwarf made an awkward bow and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
As soon as they were alone, Safira ran to one of the beds and ran her hand over the sheets, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips. She took off her worn boots and threw herself onto the soft mattress, spreading her arms. "Wow! A real bed! I don't even remember how good this felt anymore!"
At that moment, Brighid flew out from inside Safira's shirt, stretching her small iridescent wings in the air. "Wow! What a fancy place! Are we rich, little Colin?"
"Not yet," Colin replied, serious. He took the improvised bag where he had tied the Bakurak's enormous fangs from his back and carefully placed them on the floor, pushing them with his foot under his bed. "Rest a bit. Tomorrow will be a busy day."
Brighid flew to the other bed, Colin's, and lay down on the pillow, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction. "Oh, no, little fairy. This bed is mine."
"Come on, Colin? Look at the size of this! There's room for both of us and still space left..."
"Get out."
Brighid pouted, huffed, and flew sulkily to Safira's bed, landing near her head. "You're so rude!"
Colin ignored the fairy and sat on his own bed, feeling the unexpected softness of the mattress beneath him. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and a wave of nostalgia hit him.
He remembered his home, the smell of the sweets his mother made, the afternoons spent watching anime or reading manga, the nights playing online with friends he never met in person. He missed it.
He shook his head, pushing away the memories with a melancholic smile. He took off his heavy boots. There was no point in clinging to the past. That life was over. This was his reality now.