Seventh stood still, basking in the warm light and listening to the wind. The Tear's wind was a natural effect— pressure playing with a vast hole in the earth. At least Seventh thought it was natural, he'd ask about it if he remembered— or cared, really.

  "Uh, Seventh?"

  He could even hear his name in the wind.

  "Seventh? You awake there?" Janiq asked again. “The others are running away.”

  Blinking his eyes open, Seventh lowered his head down from gazing at the sky, and looked at the duelist. "I'm fine. Got caught in the moment for a while."

  Janiq nodded. He was standing with Nevin at the start of the outside stairs that led up to the wall and gate of the city. Oran was already at the gate, peeking outside and calling the others rotten eggs.

  "We're going straight to the tavern. Nevin knows where it is and can guide you there after your bathhouse trip," Janiq said. "We'll get you a room too and tomorrow we can get the umbrefel hide appraised."

  Seventh waved his hand lazily and smiled. "I already told you. The pelt was payment for your company and escort. I don't care how much it costs."

  Janiq seemed a little hesitant after Seventh's words. He scratched the back of his head and looked at Nevin. The elf shrugged. "Okay, fine. We’re still covering a decent share of room and board, yeah? "

  "Sounds great. I have to drop off Oran's backpack anyways," Seventh said and pointed up. "I think he forgot I still have it."

  Janiq's eyes widened a bit before he looked up to see the furry beastman slip inside the city with Jenn and Sylvia. "Um... I have to remind him about that. Or should I just wait and see if he realizes it on his own?" Janiq wondered out loud, stroking his smooth chin. "Anyway, I'll escort you through the gates. There will be a short discussion with the guards, and since you have some... special circumstances there might be ." He shivered with Nevin at the last word.

  Seventh narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two men. He wasn't sure yet if paperwork was such a hideous task or if they were still doing the necromancer dark ritual bit. Nevertheless, they walked up to the slightly open gate and walked in.

  It was a short gatehouse with an open roof, and a group of guardsmen waiting for them. Directly behind the gate was a raised portcullis and Seventh could see a second one and another set of thick gate doors at the other end of the gatehouse.

  "Good evening," a slightly older man spoke from a small table at the side. The speaker had a short, greying light hair, was wearing a shining breastplate with a symbol of a stylized fortress on a teardrop, and was sitting on a stool, quill ready. "Returning adventurers? Last half of the West Wind?"

  The table had a thick leather bound ledger, clay inkpots, quills, and an assortment of closed wooden boxes. Only one was open and Seventh could see a smooth oval stone with chiseled slot running in the middle. The stone had a faint white glow on it.

  "Yes. And a civilian being escorted out from the dungeon," Janiq replied.

  The sitting guard raised his eyebrow. "Oh? How did that happen?"

  His eyes swept from Janiq and Nevin to Seventh, appraising him with his eyes alone. His gaze stopped to make eye contact with Seventh and the guard's face shifted to a more curious expression.

  "I'm not sure, sir. I just... appeared in there," Seventh answered mostly truthfully, feeling the social pressure to answer the question. He made an awkward chuckle and smiled a bit.

  The guard's eyes narrowed and Seventh could feel the others perk up and taking less relaxed stances. Just in case.

  "I see. You don't mind if I do a quick Identify on the spot? Just to get your name right for the record?"

  Seventh's eyes widened, earlier awkwardness melting away. "You can Identify people?"

  The suspicion turned slightly towards confusion on the guard's face. "Well, yes?" He looked at Janiq and Nevin as if asking them if Seventh was all right in the head.

  "That's fascinating. You mind if I do you too?" Seventh asked.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I have Identify too. Got a Scholar-class."

  "And you didn't know you can Identify people?" the guard asked incredulously. The other guards relaxed around them, clearly not seeing them causing any trouble. Some entertainment? Sure.

  "System-given class. I don't know much about it," Seventh answered honestly.

  "I see. Anyways— walk over here and give me one of your hands." The guard gestured at a spot of dirt next to the table right in front of the open box with the oval stone.

  Seventh obliged and raised his three-fingered right hand as if he was going to give the guard a handshake. The guard looked at the hand for a split second before grabbing it and cast Identify. To Seventh's surprise, he closed his eyes.

  "Mmm-hmm. Yes, yes. Seventh Seven? What kind of name is... Necromancer, Bronze-rank. And a Soldier, Copper-rank. Do you have any active undead minions in the vicinity? You need a permit for those."

  “I have a Skill to keep minions away. I have been informed that taking them out is against the rules. Laws?”

  “Minions, familiars, and conjurations are treated as weapons— anything they do is on you. ” The guard explained. “Meaning if they kill someone you are responsible to the fullest extent of the law. Self-defense is allowed with multiple non-permitted minions, but it is more... advisable to keep undead out of the public view. Got that?”

  The guard had started to fill out Seventh's entry to the ledger while he explained the basics of having minions in the city. Seventh waited on the spot he'd been pointed at and absently looked at the stone. He didn't recognize the material, but it had been smoothed down and lacquered.

  Curious if the stone was glowing itself, if it was the lacquer or if there was some magic going on, Seventh activated his Sense Magic. The soft white glow immediately intensified in Seventh's vision and the air around it knotted making complex patterns in the air. He could see mana slowly flowing in the knot, even going through the box and stone itself.

  "You can sod off." Seventh lifted his eyes from the stone. The guard was staring at him and brandishing his quill like a weapon. “I need to log the others too.”

  "Oh. How about the—" Seventh started.

  "No identifying guards on duty," the guard said sternly. There was snickering around him.

  Seventh shrugged and walked to the inner gate to wait for Janiq and Nevin. His Sense Magic was still active and as he turned to look at his traveling companions there was something more to see than usual. Similar patterns of flowing mana collected around Janiq's scabbards and Nevin's cloak.

  Seventh's eyes widened with the realization and boyish excitement. They have magic items! They really are adventurers! And I can find magic items with sight alone!

  The knotted flows of magic changed immediately right in front of Seventh's eyes. Janiq's weapons gained the deep grey of sharpened steel and Nevin's cloak became obscured by rippling shadows changing shapes, blocking the light. The flows themselves changed too. They became more substantial, not intangible presentations of magical might but power itself.

  Seventh felt he could walk to Nevin and touch the magic gently flowing around him. Then his mana ran out. The colors snapped away and Seventh was left with the mundane colors of the world with a sledgehammer smashing his brain, leaving it numb for a second. He stood still— wobbling —while Janiq and Nevin stated their names and placed small strips of metal, possibly steel, on the stone that shone in green light after a moment. The guard nodded for both of them and waved them off.

  “Uh, Seventh?” Janiq's worried voice cut the pondering of magic short. “You sure you're all right? You have been little a absent.”

  “No worries,” Seventh said while rubbing his eyes clear. “Just overdid it with Sense Magic. The stone looked interesting and I wanted to check it out.”

  Janiq looked doubtfully at Seventh. “The Identity Stone was interesting? You really have lived somewhere far away if that was interesting.”

  “Yep,” Seventh possibly lied. He didn't remember anything but the dungeon, but he had to come from somewhere. “This is also my first time in a city.”

  Even the closest guards turned to look at him after that statement. Seventh gave them a friendly smile. “I'm from deep in the boonies. Very, deep.”

  Janiq gently turned him around and pushed him forward from the shoulders through the second set of doors. “Uh-huh. This is gonna be a new and exciting experience then.”

  Seventh hadn’t noticed the city’s noise until they pushed through the gate— he’d been busy tracing the magic on their gear— but when the sounds hit him, they him. Shouts and yells from the market stalls close by, grunting of the workers emptying a cart, hooves clicking on cobblestone, carts slowly clattering by.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The sack of produce slammed against the cobblestones with a wet, percussive boom that echoed down the street.

  Tightly packed wooden houses on thick stone foundations, shoulder to shoulder making an urban canyon leading to the horizon. Small back alleys breaking the wall of houses with intersections placed at equal intervals. People whizzed by on their own errands. Seventh's eyes darted from new face to new face, seeing humans, elves, dwarfs, new kinds of beastkin, short humans— gnomes— and scaled, tailed, tall descendants of the dragons: drakes.

  Hooves clattering on stone.

  There was someone in the second door window, in the shadows. Do they have a bow? A piece of iron sang as it was hit on something, Seventh's head snapped at the direction of the sound. A wave of new faces assaulted his eyes. His mind trying to identify every species and race, eyes wandering to their hands. What about the window?

  Seventh's heart started to jackrabbit in his chest. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, he could feel it warming up his body. Prepare to fight.

  Seventh took a sidestep to lean against the cool stone of the wall. There were too many sounds. Weirds smells. Voices echoing around. Too much everything. He felt the stone on his back, strong and dependable.

  "Seventh?" The voice was distant. A sound from deep underwater. Was it Janiq?

  "Yes. No— maybe. It's just... a lot of people."

  He looked back at the sky. It was still blue and white. Still there. He breathed slowly, almost painfully slow. Keeping every lungful in as long as possible.

  "Okay, okay— shit. This is normal, understand? . Especially after a long crawl. Every sound sounds like a goblin in an ambush, right?" Janiq said. His tone was calming, almost fatherly.

  "Right." Seventh hissed between breathing.

  Bit by bit, Seventh's breathing eased to an almost natural rhythm. His heart was still pounding in his chest. There was a small cloud separating from the growing wall of white. It vaguely resembled a rabbit running in the woods.

  “We'll wait right here, waiting for you. Take all the time you need, Seventh.”

  Seventh grunted quietly as an answer. His heart was slowly calming down, and his breathing was normal. All in all, he didn't know how long he leaned to the wall, looking up to the sky, but when he was ready to lower his head Janiq and Nevin were there for him.

  Janiq gave him an understanding smile and a nod. "Just follow Nevin. If the world feels hostile, just focus on his back. Try to guess what fabric the cloak is made of, understand?”

  "Okay." Seventh peeled off the wall and gave the streets a tentative look. All looked... normal. Felt like a trap.

  As advised, Seventh focused on Nevin's dark cloak. He wasn't an expert on fabrics or any other materials, but he was sure he hadn't seen the material on Nevin's back. It was black, yes, but not just black. There wasn't sheen or any other prominent features apart from the color. It seemed to suck in the light and give nothing back. There wasn't a matte finish or anything else giving away the origins of the material. Maybe it wasn't even fabric and Janiq gave Seventh a red herring to ponder?

  Seventh chuckled softly as the trio navigated through the streets. Between the thoughts, Seventh saw glimpses of the city they were traveling. The streets and the people were normal, nothing to fear for. Only friendly faces and wide smiles.

  After almost fifteen minutes of walking, they stopped at a building painted in bright yellow paint. It had been a generous— in other words, thick— layer of paint that had run down a little bit before drying out. Also, the foundation was noticeably thicker than the neighboring buildings', easily three times taller making it a Seventh's shoulder height.

  "Here we are, public bathhouse," Janiq declared with flourishing presenting gesture. Seventh half-expected a 'ta-daa'.

  "Not the fanciest of places, but if Nevin frequents the place it must be good," he continued. Nevin made single confirming nod. "Nothing to do with the fact it's the only place where you can do that branch-fighting in a hot-as-Hells room, but that might be just a coincidence. Anyway, bye!" Janiq added and disappeared suspiciously quickly to the crowd.

  Seventh suspected there was a plateful of food and a tall full tankard full of beer waiting for Janiq somewhere. He side-galnced at Nevin. "Branch-fighting?"

  Nevin made a minuscule smile as he walked inside the bathhouse. There were stairs built into the foundation ending to a wide double door also painted yellow with the same paint. Following Nevin, Seventh arrived to a small reception area with a service counter manned by a smiling receptionist. She was a young elf with dark hair tied to a bun, a neat white tunic covered with a green vest, and didn't even blink at Seventh's disheveled state.

  "Welcome to the Yellow Springs Bathhouse. Two males, or do you have others coming by?" she asked. Her voice was calm and professional.

  Nevin raised two fingers, and made a hitting motion with his hand. A gentle gesture without malice behind it.

  "Just the two of you, both with sauna privileges?"

  Nevin lowered one of his fingers and pointed at himself.

  "Only you, sir. And if I may be bold? We have washing and repair services for clothes in the house," the receptionist said while her eyes flickered at Seventh.

  Seventh looked down at his ragged clothing and missed Nevin's answer, but the receptionist's next words confirmed that the service was paid accepted.

  "Two baths, one sauna and one full service of clothes. That'll be 42 copper."

  Nevin fished out couple coins from somewhere and placed them on the counter, five silver coins. The receptionist counted them and gave eight smaller copper coins as change.

  Nevin received two leather cord bracelets decorated with glass beads and small wooden token with number eleven on the other side and a picture of destroyed clothing on the other. He kept one bracelet with larger red bead and handed the other to Seventh with the token.

  "Please enter the changing room to your right, leave the wash token on top of your clothes. Please note that the laundry takes a while, so feel free to enjoy our establishment without a hurry." The receptionist gestured towards a door on Seventh's right side.

  "Thanks," Seventh said and followed Nevin to the men's changing room.

  There were two long wooden benches surrounded by weaved baskets with lids and a doorframe covered with a full sized curtain at the end of the benches. Nevin took an empty basket from a pile for himself and sat on the bench to take his boots off. Seventh followed suit, and started to undress after getting his own basket.

  While taking his clothes off— for the first time in months, ever even— he could feel the fabric rip and tear at the parts it had become one with the grime and his skin. He could feel the Nevin's gaze on him, but he paid no heed. He had to wiggle toes vigorously to get his own boots off. When he was naked, the basket was placed against a wall with a wooden token on top. The bracelet was on his left wrist, just like Nevin had done with his own bracelet.

  The two men were ready to enter the bathing area through the door at the other end in the room, but Seventh froze when he saw Nevin. The elven rogue had taken all of his clothes off— including the leather coif, revealing his hair. His bright yellow hair.

  It wasn't blonde or white. The hair was yellow, violently — short,

  and spiky with the moisture.Seventh couldn't take his eyes off from the almost luminescent hair. It was like Nevin had a highlight pointing directly at him. The coif tightly surrounding the Rogue's head at all times in the dungeon suddenly made a lot more sense than a moment ago.

  Nevin raised a defiant eyebrow and crossed his arms, challenging Seventh to say something.

  "Sooo... to the baths?"

  The elf grinned, victorious, and gestured Seventh to follow through the curtained door frame to the actual baths. The washing room was long, single room divided by partitions— brightly painted with green scenery and rolling flower fields— giving some privacy for the bathing tubs. The floor was large, warm flagstones that were not so surprisingly wet, but the texture was coarse just enough so the guests didn't have to worry about slipping.

  There was a large selection of tubs to select from, ranging from simple wooden half-barrels to metallic clawfoot tubs— probably made from tin or some other cheapish metal. Other clients were happily chatting around or silently relaxing in their tubs. The only real noise came from a yelling young boy who didn't want to use the flower-scented soap. Apparently it was for girls, not for boys.

  Seventh slowly took in all the details and stood still in the doorway, a pace or two behind his guide. “Nevin. So, uh... I just pick a tub and get to washing?”

  Two quick nods from Nevin and he pointed at a wooden sign hanging on partition and rotated the finger in a circle. The motions were more jittery, almost excited. Nevin clearly had been waiting for the visit.

  “Alright. I'll figure all that out. If I make a fool of myself, it'll make a good story for some other day.” Seventh shooed Nevin away with a gesture and the Rogue walked with determination right at back of the room where Seventh could see thick unpainted wooden door. The people coming out were somehow... reddish? Smiling way too much? Most were elves.

  Seventh thought as he wandered between the tubs, looking for a decently private one. Preferably a wooden one since he had sneaking suspicion he would ruin any tub he'd use.

  More than once Seventh could feel the other customers staring at him covertly while he wandered around, and found the towel rack next to a free wooden tub. Seventh slowly submerged himself into the tub, and took a soap bar from nearby side table. Slowly, he rubbed himself all over until the water ran black. Warm, soapy water prickled his skin, peeling off all the dirt from the dungeon.

  He needed to change the tub twice before the water stayed the normal— slightly greyish— bubbly water. Seventh looked around when changing the tubs. Nevin was nowhere to be seen, so there was still time.

  He could relax— relax. Close his eyes and take in the warmth, nice smells and the laughter of children running around. He had to make a double-look at the elven children running around with bundles of sticks with leaves on them. Maybe those were the aforementioned branches?

  Relaxing was difficult. His mind wandered back and back again into the dungeon. His experiences and what had happened down there. Death. Mayhem. Despair and panic.

  And what he had found there.

  Power. Magic and Skills. A god. Well, the jury was still out on that one. A godling? Half-god?

  He was in the black. No need to count his losses, keep tabs on minions, balancing mana and health. Could he do all that again? Should he?

  He traced his finger along his scars. Potions and Meditate topped his health back up, but didn't always knit his flesh back together perfectly. Too many to remember. Cuts and nicks beyond counting, but the big ones he did remember.

  His left bicep was divided by a large discoloration running all around his arm stopped only by a finger width of healthy skin. The arm had almost been ripped off from a monstrous maul-strike. On his chest was a jagged lightning bolt of a scar at the base of his neck. He was stabbed there sometime in the beginning. He didn't have a clear memory of the attack, but he could remember a ratkin face screaming right at him.

  The wound had wheezed when he tried to breathe.

  His right ankle looked like it was cut off and sewed on by a drunk veterinarian. The maul-strike had done that too.

  So many times where it all could've gone wrong. Too many times he should've died and be forgotten. But there he was. Taking a bath. In a bliss, he closed his eyes, and finally, truly relaxed. A minor miracle, really.

  Gods only knew how long Seventh had soaked in the tub. He had gotten all the dirt off of him and even had rubbed oils and ointments on his hair until it wasn't a matted mass of old hair and hardened oil. The muddy brown hair was long and occasionally dropped on Seventh's vision. He needed a haircut.

  A soft cough caught him off guard as he was pulling a long strand of his hair down to look it closer. Nevin had finally appeared from the backroom with almost glowing red skin and widest smile Seventh had ever seen. With the skin and the hair Nevin was a walking forest fire. Seventh could pick him up in a crowd— miles away.

  After a polite stunned silence, Seventh found his tongue. "You done?"

  Thumbs up and a questioning pointing from Nevin.

  "Yeah, I'm good too. To be honest, if I soak a minute more I might just snooze off."

  A small twitch on Nevin's corners of mouth. A double-nod.

  Seventh rose from the tub and commandeered a large towel to dry himself off. He had already ruined one when he changed tubs for the first time, and was now pleased that the towel didn't aggressively change color on contact with his skin.

  Returning to the changing room, the bins were where they were left, but the contents in Seventh's bin were noticeably different. Taking the clothes out for inspection, Seventh saw the extensive stitch work fixing the holes and tears. He had no idea his tunic and trousers were actually grey. He had always thought them as brown. Shrugging, he put his soft and clean clothes on. There was a faint flowery smell a certain young boy would have hated.

  Thanking the receptionist, Seventh and Nevin were exiting the building when Seventh noticed what was right next to the door. A mirror, probably for the patrons to check themselves before leaving. A strange man was staring back at Seventh.

  He had seen the man before— long time ago— deep in the dungeon. He had rotting flesh, disheveled state, and desperate eyes then. Now, he was clean. Brown hair had grown out a bit, covering the ears and bordering on being a nuisance. The

  beard was coming along nicely although it was just long stubble at

  this point. His left ear had healed nicely together after being almost torn completely off by an arrow. The brown eyes still had that haunted look.

  Seventh touched the mirror and his reflection. Looking closer.

  Who was he before the dungeon and Bob? How old was he? Where he had came from?

  Where was he going?

  The door opened and a merry band of laughing young women walked in, breaking Seventh's thought. He yanked his hand off from the mirror and looked at Nevin. The Rogue had given room to the women, and was patiently waiting for Seventh next to the door.

  They nodded once and stepped into the street.