--July 1211 AD--
Walking sluggishly, Isaac neared the city gates. Getting within a few hundred meters, Isaac perfected his posture even though it was uncomfortable due to his injuries.
As he passed through the city gates, the guards scrutinized him and whispered amongst each, other,
"A noble?"
"Has to be, look at his clothes. They may be worn but they're clearly a noble's attire."
"But.. why is he on foot then?" All the guards were confused.
Every noble they had seen came through the city gate on horseback or carriage. To them, showing off status and wealth was as natural as breathing.
"Probably a noble. But he's different, that one's seen blood." The robust grizzled guard captain said in the back.
He had seen many men and fought many battles, once you acquire enough experience in some things you can get a sense of others like you. And he could tell that at the very least this boy had drawn blood whether it be something or someone.
As Isaac disappeared into the bustling city street the guards went back to work, but the guard captain saved this to memory, thinking something might happen soon.
Stepping through the city felt foreign to Isaac, having lived in the wilderness for over a year. After walking towards the inner city for a while he came across the bustling market square.
He stopped in awe, overwhelmed by the invigorating noise. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked goods and the tang of spices from far away lands. The merchants and vendors clamored out to the affluent individuals among the torrents of people who's every step brought the clinking of coins, bringing with them a intricate dance of words and wit as they haggled the price. Children zipping through the crowds with bursts of laughter, playing without a care for the world around them.
As he stood there, a baker called out to him, waving his bread in the air as if to waft its scent throughout the area. Instinctively he reached for his pouch of coins, in the past he could spend it however he wanted without emptying his pockets.
Isaac shook his head and moved on, having to worry about how to spend these coins, he somewhat missed the simplicity of the forest. Whilst moving forward through the packed crowd he caught sight of a figure between the stalls. It was incredibly fast, with a flow that showed they were well-practiced. He didn't think much of it, probably just kids playing, but the fluid movements would linger in his mind.
Making his way through another section, one could see many more higher-priced items. Colorful stalls lined the area with exotic silks, spices, and jewelry. He saw groups of nobles in their robes, showing a contrast to the now rather worn down ruthenian attire he wore and some well-dressed women grouped around a weaver and his intricate tapestries, with colors so vibrant they would easily grab your attention.
What truly caught his eye though were the weapons vendors, the shine of their polished tools making a light show for all that walked down the road. He had no need for useless garments and trinkets, living so long in the wilderness he had grown averse to the useless possessions and pleasantries of nobles.
"What good does a goblet do with no head to drink from it? It's better for one to buy a shield to stop the blade--or a sword to take theirs first." He thought.
"Where is the blacksmith who made these items, my sword is in need of repair" Isaac approached one of the stalls.
After memorizing the information given, he left the market square. He had to book an in before it was too late and there was no room. After walking in his vision was flooded by the sight of pilgrims and other travelers, all crowded around tables with their voices vigorous and loud as several languages mixed together to make a unique sight.
After reserving a room he sat in a quieter corner and ate a hearty meal of mutton stew with some cabbage, a loaf of bread, and classic mead. He felt like a new person when eating it, after all, eating one of three things, fish, rabbit, or deer for the past year had left him with quite the appetite.
Still having quite some time before sunset he decided to explore the city more, starting with heading to the blacksmith. Isaac would not slouch on his own survival after what he'd been through. After a few minutes walk he arrived in front of the address given by the stall vendor.
Upon entering the forge, a wave of hot air rushed him, thick with the scent of coal and iron. The rhythmic clang of the hammer against the anvil enveloped the area, each strike resonating with every other tool there as if communicating with the soul of the weapon.
Isaac, waiting in the front shop, had a look around. Contrary to the merchants at the square, throwing trinkets in his face, the blacksmith's wares were true possessions to be sought, each piece crafted for a single yet universal purpose. His eyes gazed upon a finely made rapier, a single one in a long line of broadswords and daggers. As a noble, his father decided to have him learn with a rapier as it was taken as more dignified than other arts of combat. Going up to it he ran his finger down the blade, these tools were on a whole other level than the common items a normal blacksmith would carry.
"That one's reserved." A raspy and stout voice rang out
Turning around Isaac saw a man that would make anyone go "That's a blacksmith." With arms the size of tree trunks and his burly build it was no surprise why this man had taken up blacksmithing.
"I need this repaired and sharpened." Isaac stated, holding up his looted rapier.
"Won't do it." The man said
"..." Isaac stared at him, surprised.
"..." The blacksmith stood unfazed.
"Why not?" Isaac asked after the quiet stare
"Cause that's a piece of shit." The blacksmith said without hesitation
"Ya have a nobles clothes. If you want a real rapier I can make one, it'll cost, obviously. That sword you have won't last ya long. So ya ought to make your decision soon" The man said pointing at him.
"Do you treat all nobles like this?" Isaac asked, intrigued at this man's bluntness.
"Yep." The man said without the slightest doubt.
"..."
After discussing the pricing of a new rapier, Isaac knew he didn't have enough money and told the blacksmith he would come back later. With a bit of time left before sunset, he continued to explore the city.
When strolling around he hears the ring of bells of substantial size. Upon locating the source he found a profound cathedral looming over him, It's spires reach towards the heavens as if to point the way there. Intricate and delicate carving done by stone masons weathered by time but still showing the stories of martyrs and saints alike. The aura enveloping the place could only be described as one usually would a place like this, holy.
As Isaac entered the cathedral he was immediately calmed. The air inside was perfectly still, the fresh scent of candles and incense filling the grand hall. Rays of light from the almost setting sun rushed through the stained glass murals on the windows as if bringing them to life. An almost profound stillness could be found broken only by the quiet prayers and echo of his steps.
"The weight on your heart is heavy my son, you should rest." A calm and gentle voice called out in the peaceful hall.
Isaac, startled, turned to the voice to find an old man dressed in monastic clothing. The monk had a calm to him Isaac could not fathom, Isaac unconsciously let down his guard.
The monk stretched out his hand and was reaching for Isaac's shoulder. Isaac instinctively reached for his mask, its presence startled the monk and his hand stopped.
"Use that mask wisely son, I'm sure you know the effects it brings." The monk said calmly
Isaac was shocked! Does he know what this mask is!?
As Isaac's inner turmoil was brought to new heights, the monk's hand landed on his shoulder.
A warmth enveloped Isaac's body, instantly he was healed of his injuries, internal and external. All of his fatigue went away and it felt as if his very soul had been washed. A clearness was reached in his mind, like a clear lake, each thought could be seen with precision. But this only served to deepen Isaac's confusion, who was this monk?
He was about to question the monk when the monk shook his head as if knowing what he wanted to ask.
Happy at this newfound vigor, Isaac would not pry this man for info and reached into his coin bag to pay the monk. As his hand touched the bag, the monk placed his hand over his, to not let him take out coins.
Isaac looked at the monk with a slightly sad and confused look but his new question was answered.
"Extortion turns a wise man into a fool."
While the monk calmly said this, he turned and walked away at a slow pace, yet Isaac could not chase, he stood in place without a thought in mind, just watching as the man faded into the distant hallways of the cathedral.
When he finally snapped out of his stupor it was already dark outside, thus he decided to head back to the inn and rest for the night. Or so he thought, he was so out of it he forgot to put the mask back after the encounter with the monk. As he was walking through the dim streets back to the Inn, he failed to notice the pair of eyes, curios and calculating, staring at him like a hawk from a dark alley.