Chapter 54: Old Maid

While the stupefied crowd stammered and screamed, the two bloodied men turned and raced down the nearest alleyway.

Emerging on the other side, they found themselves alone on a cobblestone street. They looked in both directions, finding unfamiliar buildings with signs hanging from them.

Glancing back through the narrow alley, Maks said:

"I... We should look for an inn."

Zayn slowly nodded.

"Yeah..." Following Maks’s gaze toward the crowd, which had begun to disperse, he added, "Let’s just get far away for now."

Maks had no qualms with that idea.

The two men raced down the cobbled street and through the next alleyway they saw. Once they emerged onto another street, they kept running, determined to put as much distance between themselves and the other summoned as possible.

After a good five minutes, they finally slowed, confident no one would find them anytime soon.

Without deliberating, Zayn pointed toward the nearest store, its wooden sign reading: Steel Blacksmith.

Maks understood without Zayn having to say anything. They weren’t there to shop leisurely — neither of them could stomach something so ordinary in their current state. They merely wanted directions.

Without pausing to question the strange, era-defying architecture, Zayn pushed open the door and stepped inside. Maks quickly followed.

Various weapons lined the walls around them. Some were hung on display, while others leaned against wooden frames or rested inside barrels.

A man’s voice greeted them.

"Dia duit. Ye’re me first customers among ye new arrivals."

Zayn glanced to his left, where a glass display stood beside the counter.

Inside were several dazzling, ornate swords — pieces seemingly made for vanity and decoration rather than practical use.

Behind the counter, a stocky man with thick, long blond hair leaned against his fist.

Before either man could respond, he added:

"Ye both seen better days, haven’t ye?"

Zayn glanced down at his hands.

Their bodies had been healed, of course, but the damage their clothes had suffered during the battle and entire month remained. Worse, neither the goblin nor human blood had been washed from their skin or hair.

Most importantly...

Claire’s blood still stained his soles and fists.

Zayn gulped, shoveling away his dismay, then looked up.

"Sir, I was wondering where the nearest inn is... preferably one where we can wash up."

The burly man, whose shaggy blond hair framed a thick beard, stood up.

"Hmm... I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m a businessman. I’ll answer all yer questions that I can if ye’re here as a customer."

Zayn and Maks shared a look before glancing down at the pouches in their hands.

Even if neither was in the mood to shop, they were both weaponless. Buying something was inevitable.

Zayn dipped his head.

"Alright..."

Turning, he wasted no time examining the weapons or searching for one that suited him. Instead, he simply grabbed the nearest sword that looked like it wouldn’t cost much and set it on the counter alongside his pouch.

The man’s eyes narrowed at the two items, and he whispered:

"Traveler... I take pride in my work."

Zayn wanted to sigh, but held it in. Tough a bit of snark slipped out in his response:

"If that’s so, then what’s the issue with me trusting your work without question?"

The man’s eyes widened. A moment later, he burst into applause.

"Oh, ho? Good answer, kid! Ahaha! However... a sword isn’t something ye pick up at random. On the battlefield, it is yer closest companion. The only one ye can truly trust. Choose a sword ye cannot place your faith in, and its blade will never place its faith in you."

Zayn didn’t reply, but his haggard expression spoke for him.

’I don’t care for this sophistry. Just sell us the damn sword... please.’

Seeing it, the man sighed. After rubbing his temple and swiping aside his long hair, he said:

"Ah, yer making me feel bad... How about this: both of you promise to come back tomorrow and take a good look around fer real. I’ll even give you a first purchase discount."

Maks answered this time.

"That works."

"Alright, then... I’ll trust you. Head out to the right, go six buildings down, take a right, and on the next street, ye’ll find a place called ’Old Maid.’ Tell the lady there Magnus sent you."

Looking ready to weep with joy, Maks bowed slightly.

"T-thank you... Magnus."

"Ay."

Taking back his pouch, Zayn turned to leave.

"I’m Zayn. Thank you for your kindness."

Magnus nodded.

"Ay."

Maks introduced himself as well before following Zayn outside.

The two followed Magnus’s directions, heading right and slipping through another alleyway. Before long, they found the inn.

Although they had yet to encounter any of the other summoned, they hurried inside.

A lively voice greeted them the moment the door opened.

"Welcome! What the..."

The voice trailed off as its owner caught sight of them.

Zayn looked at the older woman behind the bar, her brown hair tied into thick pigtails as she wiped down a glass.

"Ye two have seen better days, haven’t ye?"

’Same dialect...’

Maks averted his gaze slightly.

"Do you have rooms... somewhere we could wash up?"

"That does seem like something ye two’d need. But how’d you find yerselves over here so quickly? Weren’t ye just called here?"

Neither Zayn nor Maks had the energy to question how the woman knew about their arrival.

’Magnus seemed to know as well.’

Maks replied:

"We just want to rest, so we got away from the others... We met a guy named Magnus. He sent us here."

"Oh? Magnus did? I don’t know how ye won his favor, but I’ll grant a little solace to someone he’s accepted... I can get ye two a room for one night for free. Though you’ll have to share. Or pay for another."

Zayn narrowed his gaze.

’Won his favor...?’

They definitely hadn’t done that. In fact, Zayn had antagonized the man a little.

Maks smiled wryly.

"That would be perfect. Thank you so much."