Chapter 37: A Warm Meal

Chapter 37: A Warm Meal

Tom dubiously stared at the humble bowl of stew placed before him, observing the thick steam rising from the wooden bowl with genuine intrigue, tracing its twirls as they spiralled towards the low ceiling of the storeroom.

Willing his hand forward, Tom watched as a small portion of the steam was absorbed by his hand of no volition of his own. Surprised, he hurriedly jerked his hand backwards.

Unsure how to proceed, he gave the guard, who had introduced himself as Serawin of the Royal Knights, a sceptical look.

What? The Royal Knight, Serawin replied, raising an eyebrow.

This white mist, Tom trailed off, unsure how to explain his question without framing it as an accusation. Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

The confusion on Serawins face grew deeper.

Has it gotten that bad in the Nameless district? Surely you must have eaten beast meat before, Serawin asked, seemingly stupefied by Toms reaction.

Tom lowered his gaze, letting a flicker of shame make its way onto his visage. His expression spoke of desperation and if the punishment for making his way to the Nobles district was indeed, so severe only the desperate and the foolish would attempt it.

Letting out a long sigh, Serawin exasperatedly reached out with his own two-tined fork, sinking it into a chunk of meat on Toms plate before biting into it.

The white mist is soul essence. It suggests that fresh beast meat has been prepared and cooked the correct way, without any contamination or improper handing. Though the quality of the meat itself isnt extraordinary, it still boosts the bodys natural soul recovery by a respectable degree, Serawin explained.

Toms gaze remained on Serawin for a few more seconds before his attention fell back to his stew.

He had not experienced the misty phenomenon when cooking beast meat in the forest, but perhaps that was a given after all, he didnt possess the tools or expertise needed to cook it properly and hygiene wasnt exactly high on the list when he was trying to stave away biting hunger.

A cooked meal..

Although Tom knew that he had been in Artezia only for a few weeks, his perception of time was severely addled after spending so many hours in isolation those weeks of suffering had felt like years to him and if there was one thing he had missed more than anything it was the safety and comfort of civilization, a core tenet upholding society that he had taken for granted back on Earth.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Toms fork dug into a tender chunk of meat before he cautiously took a bite. Nothing could prepare him for the explosion of succulent juices infused with unfamiliar spices that left a tangy aftertaste in his mouth. Unable to be satiated with a single bite, he began to devour one chunk of meat after the next, no longer caring for decorum or maintaining appearances- if anything, this sold the background the guard believed him to hail from.

Damn, kid, Serawin remarked, his eyebrows rising a little. How long has it been since youve had a proper meal?

Tom ignored the jibe, reaching for the wooden bowl and pressing it against its lips before he begun to drink directly from it, letting the warm, savoury broth gush down his throat till there was not even a single drop left. It was hard not to be moved by the best meal he had tasted in his life partly because his food had flavour again instead of being bland, unevenly cooked chunks of meat but that wasnt all its exotic taste wasnt completely foreign to his taste buds, but the novelty of it coupled with its nourishing effect made for a very refreshing treat.

What is this place? Tom asked, gratitude sparkling in his eyes. For better or worse, Serawin had offered him a not-poisoned, cooked meal when he was within his rights to arrest and imprison him.

The storeroom he found himself in was nothing really impressive a wooden table, four beaten down chairs and an armour stand occupied the left side of the room, whilst the right was dominated by a dozen or so wooden crates loaded with supplies of all kind; ranging from spices and herbs to spare changes of uniforms and a few pairs of boots that seemed to be intended for different purposes.

Sheepishly scratching the back of his head, Serawin awkwardly replied, You could say its kind of my own cosy little hideout. Gives me a space to rest and resupply away from the public eye.

That statement caught Toms attention.

Im not the first stowaway youve helped out, am I? Tom pointedly asked.

Serawin let out a weary sigh.

It happens once every few months. An old man wanting to explore the Noble District before he dies. A young girl frustrated by her parents decision to marry her off early due to her poor talent. A gambler running away from his debts. Really, its a new scenario every time. And usually, the Royal Knights get to them before I can, Serawin explained, his tone sombre.

Tom had been wondering why he hadnt seen any discrimination in Renovia so far. It turned out that there was an entire subset of society that had been veiled off from his and Zenakris sight. Though the latter was more than likely well aware of it, Active Shroud Maya had given him no insight on the matter; which meant that Zenakris.. probably didnt think too much about people of the N ameless District.

Besides monsters like The Revenant Slayer, Verranuva and The Rune Lord, Arrendez there are very few who can rise to the status of True Nobles and they are always Academy students. So its not like we want to keep you out of the Noble District, kid, the truth of it is that most of us cant do a damn thing about it.

Tom could feel the bitterness in those words and more importantly, he resonated with the helplessness Serawin was echoing. This world was no utopia the same way his previous one hadnt. The strong and the powerful decided the rules while the rest were forced to either fall in line or be cast aside.

It was honestly getting rather old.

Fine, Tom let out a resigned sigh, letting his head droop a little in defeat. Do you have a way back to the Nameless District? I dont want to cause you any more trouble than I already have and I would rather not get myself imprisoned for a year, Tom let a little bitterness of his own seep into his voice, selling the act as well as he could.

I suppose you cant go back the way you came in?

Letting out a sheepish chuckle, Tom replied, That, er.. that was a single-time thing, Im afraid.

Brows twitching with irritation, Serawin shot back, Its hard to believe someone as perceptive as you could be so short-sighted.

Tom averted his gaze.

Fine. I have an arrangement with the Royal Knight guarding the entrance to the Noble District. He wont ask anymore questions than he needs to, but be prepared for a thorough inspection. Trade between the districts is highly regulated, after all.

Does that mean my status will be inspected as well? Tom asked.

Yes, Serawin replied, raising an eyebrow at the question. Is that a problem?

No, not at all. I was just curious.

That is good, Serawins expression relaxed as he reached out inside his side pocket, counting out a few coins before walking over to one of the crates and cutting out a piece of softened animal leather. Fashioning a coin pouch with a final bit of string, he tossed it over to Tom.

When the Knight asks, tell them this was payment for your services. Hopefully, it will help you out a little on the other side.

Genuinely moved, Tom bowed deeply to Serawin, not sure how else to express the boundless gratitude he felt for the knight.

Thank you.

What is the meaning of this! Zenakris bellowed furiously at the two Dungeon Guards under employ of the [Divine System], stunned by their preposterous actions. The tip of a long spear and the edge of a double-bladed axe rested against his throat, the absolute focused expressions on the guards faces conveying the seriousness of the matter.

Valeria Nezarie the only one quick enough to react to the Dungeon Guards movements had not moved from her spot, even as her two fellow Academy students and Zenakris friends readied their weapons.

Sirs, I am sure there has been some confusion. Can you please explain why you are pointing your weapon at the heir-apparent to the Renain Family? Valerie Nazarie managed to maintain a mask of composure where most of her peers would either be too shocked to react or react combatively,

Thisones no lord, One of the Dungeon Guards growled furiously, though his blade remained frozen in space.

Two hours ago there wasan another lad who identified himself as Zenakris- looked ta same, walked ta same and talked ta same. That means one of them gotta be an imposter! The other guard exclaimed, causing the fury to drain out of Zenakris face.

The calm mask Valeria was wearing cracked as she began to fathom the implications of that statement.

My father! Call my father, he can identify if Im the imposter or not, Zenakris asked, no requested, after reaching the conclusion that arrogance and being temperamental would only worsen his cause.

The best thing he could do was the exact opposite of what the imposter would do in this situation- remain calm.