Wildheart chronicles

Chapter 4: The velvet Rose

Bjorn wandered aimlessly through the maze-like streets of the city, his mind tangled with the chaos of the church's testing hall and how quickly he'd gone from hopeful mage to fugitive on the run. The memory of Master Yuki's mysterious powers—how easily he’d killed the adept—left a knot in Bjorn's stomach. But it also sparked a fire in him, a burning desire to possess such unfathomable strength.

"Be stronger than your enemies, and you survive," he thought to himself. That was the rule of the jungle.

Raised by a single mother and a young hunter, Bjorn had a toughness that most kids his age lacked. He'd worked hard manual labor jobs to support his mother and his own insatiable appetite. It wasn't easy, but it taught him resilience.

“Let them come,” he muttered, snapping out of his thoughts as he refocused on his surroundings. “Where's this Velvet Rose Inn?”

Bjorn spotted an old beggar and walked over, dropping a silver coin into the man's cup. The beggar snatched it with surprising speed, leaving Bjorn a little stunned. Ignoring it, he asked, “Where can I find the Velvet Rose Inn?”

“A man of good taste, huh?” the beggar grinned, revealing a mouth with more gaps than teeth.

Bjorn held up another silver coin. “Just tell me where it is.”

Greed flashed in the beggar's eyes as he nodded eagerly. “Head to the northern part of the city—it's pretty popular over there,” he said, not taking his eyes off the coin in Bjorn's hand.

Bjorn set off with renewed vigor. After another hour of winding through the city, he reached the northern part, which felt much more luxurious and upscale compared to where he'd entered. He walked up to a well-dressed lady and asked for directions, but she gave him a look as if he'd suggested something indecent and hurried away.

Bjorn was baffled for a moment, then remembered the beggar's smirk and wink. He slapped his forehead, realizing his mistake, and approached a rougher-looking man who was more than happy to point him in the right direction.

Finally, he stood in front of the Velvet Rose Inn. It wasn't hard to spot—its grand sign gleamed in the dim light, and the murmurs and laughter from within indicated it was already buzzing with activity.

As Bjorn neared the staircase, he noticed a massive man sitting beside the door, lazily picking his nails with a knife that seemed much too large for the task. The man looked up, his piercing eyes scanning Bjorn for a few seconds before he resumed his grooming, his attention as fleeting as it was intense.

Stepping inside the inn, Bjorn found himself in a bustling scene. The ground floor was crowded with people from all walks of life—merchants haggling over deals, mercenaries sharing tales of adventure, and girls in suggestive outfits flirting and frolicking with the men. Laughter and chatter filled the air, while a band on stage played lively tunes, adding to the inn's lively atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their evening, the energy vibrant and electric.

Bjorn made his way to the innkeeper to inquire about a room for the week. "How much for a room, one week?" he asked.

"That would be one gold coin," the innkeeper replied, his smile broadening as he saw the opportunity to make some extra cash. "Another gold coin for clean sheets and feeding."

Bjorn handed over two gold coins and a silver one, asking for drinks to be sent to his room. After the day's ordeal, he needed something to help him relax and take his mind off things.

———

"I win again!" a cheerful voice exclaimed, her grin wide as she swept the copper coin off the table.

It had been exactly three days since Bjorn arrived at the Velvet Rose Inn. He spent the first two days in his room, pondering his next move in case the mysterious mage didn't return by week's end. But the solitude grew too much, and now he could be found on the bustling ground floor, playing games with the lively girls of the velvet rose inn.

Despite his best efforts, Bjorn lost most of the games, the coins on his side of the table dwindling with each round. Yet, his losses seemed to make him quite popular—the girls loved his willingness to part with his money. His popularity, however, was likely to last only as long as his coin did.

"Want another drink?" Bjorn asked the girl, who nodded eagerly.

He headed to the bar, dropping some copper coins to order ale and wine. As he turned to return to his seat, he bumped into a short mercenary, spilling his drink all over the man's chest.

Bjorn had noticed this mercenary earlier—a surly and mean drunk who'd already tried to start scuffles with several patrons. If it weren't for his habit of tipping well, the bouncers would have thrown him out by now.

"I'm sorry, sir. Let me buy you a drink as an apology," Bjorn quickly offered, hoping to defuse the situation.

"Do I look like I can't afford my own drink?" the man snapped, his scowl deepening. He was a foot shorter than Bjorn, but he was armed and clearly knew his way around a fight.

Bjorn instinctively reached for his sword, but cursed silently when he remembered he left it in his room, thinking it was safer to be unarmed in the inn.

The mercenary swung a sloppy punch at Bjorn, but his drunken state made it easy to sidestep. Bjorn countered with a swift punch of his own, breaking the man's nose with a sickening crunch. The rest of Bjorn's ale splashed over the mercenary as he staggered backward.

"Fuck, you broke my nose!" the mercenary shrieked, clutching his bleeding face. "You're gonna pay for that!" He drew his sword with a smooth, practiced motion, raising it to strike.

Before he could bring the blade down, a strong hand gripped his wrist. Another loud crunch echoed through the room as his elbow snapped, followed by a gut-wrenching scream. The mercenary dropped to the ground, unconscious.

"No one bullies my nephew," said the man who had intervened. He had a lean, toned body, sandy blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. His mischievous smirk made it clear he enjoyed the chaos.

"Come here, nephew!" he exclaimed, wrapping Bjorn in a bear hug that nearly crushed his ribs. "Play along, kid," he whispered in Bjorn's ear.

He released Bjorn and made a show of scolding him, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Can you believe it? This kid ran off from the caravans to join those mages. Now that he's failed, I hope I won't have to hear any more of that mage nonsense!" He sounded like an exasperated uncle, but his eyes held a gleam of humor.

The so-called uncle, who was actually Master Yuki, ordered more drinks and invited a few girls over to their table. The night became a rowdy affair, filled with loud laughter and stories about Bjorn's childhood that he would have preferred left unsaid. As the tales got more embarrassing, he wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

By the time it was nearly midnight, the two of them headed upstairs to their rooms. Master Yuki grabbed Bjorn by the shoulder and pulled him into his room. With a swift series of hand seals and precise taps on Bjorn's pressure points, he instantly cleared the fog of the night's revelry from Bjorn's mind.

"Get some sleep, kid. We leave before dawn," Master Yuki said, letting his disguise drop as he relaxed. "I'll explain everything to you on the road tomorrow. Now, off you go," he added, waving Bjorn out.

Bjorn left the room, his head spinning with curiosity. As he lay down to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder what the next day would bring. Despite the long road ahead, he was ready for whatever came his way.