Arcanist In Another World-Chapter 73: Lessons

Garran’s friend had proven his deep knowledge of the market by quickly finding an old, two-room flat in a building with a weekly rent of five Caligian crowns. The price was rather steep, and it would’ve been seven crowns if not for the sudden interruption of Marcus, who suddenly decided it was high time he was done with brooding and instead went at the landowner with the stubbornness of a petty, bargaining man.

And so, they had managed to seal the deal.

Celme had been sighing at the conversation all along. Selin kept to herself as usual and peered sheepishly into the room she would be sleeping in for the foreseeable future. That had been the one thing the Captain made very clear before they arrived at the capital. Valens was to keep an eye on her and continue with her treatment.

Confused he might be about the certain correlations between the currency, economy, and his new monthly pay in his new job, Valens felt a gust of relief when he handed five gleaming notes to the landowner for the week’s rent. He then gazed across the old, dusty, a touch rusty, but not entirely unlivable, flat whose keys were now clasped in the palm of his hand.

He didn’t tell anyone anything about it, but the moment he locked the door after the landowner was the moment it truly dawned on him the implications of this decision. Until now, he had been a stray soul wandering about this place or that, tailing the Undead, the Guildsmen, the Templars, but no more. Old or not, he had his own place now, which called for a celebration.

Pity that Celme and Marcus had Guild business to be about, and Garran told him he would be attending a gathering in the afternoon to announce his return. Valens wasn’t sure if he could ever make peace with the fact that the mighty Templar who hacked, stabbed, and crushed shadows just weeks prior was now wearing a fancy suit and a hat that handsomely fit his head.

Speaking of suits, he was in desperate need of one. That, and new unders, and pants, and new of anything—as a man who arrived in another world without an ounce of preparation would need after dealing with the initial complications.

Two Rifts. One normal and the other Cursed. Two types of people. One Guild, and the other the Church. Two different worlds. The civilized society of Haven’s Reach, and the dreary stretches of the Broken Lands trying to spill into this part of the equation. This world is mad.

Which begged the question he’d been dying to ask since he set foot in Brackley and saw the people there working in their normal daily lives.

How? How did any of this make sense? Who in their right mind could live a life knowing that every day there were monsters worming their way across the Rifts, creatures of terrifying powers scheming in the depths of a mountain, or being schemed at by people who seemed to have a bone to pick with all of humanity?

He could still remember the things that Necromancer told him. Lies, the man had hissed at him in his final moments. A sick mind’s plot, he had insisted even in the face of his death.

Looking at Belgrave and its people now, Valens felt that he wasn’t even close to beginning to understand this world.

“Your tea, Mr. Kosthal,” Selin said, placing the steaming cup gently over the table. She then took the tray with both of her hands, stepped back without making a sound, and just… stood there.

“Ah,” Valens said as he breathed in the sweet, floral aroma of the tea, almost honey-like in the roof of his mouth. “Chamomile, is it?”

“Yes, Mr. Kosthal,” Selin answered in quick, practiced subservience.

Valens shook his head as he peered out from the dusty windows of the flat into the street below, a dreary stretch of buildings all bearing the same faces. It was afternoon, but it might as well have been night because the fog choked all the light out of the sun and left nothing but a few streaks trickling down enough to touch the ground.

“I’m sure you are aware, but I find myself compelled to remind you that you are not here as my personal maid,” Valens said. This arrangement hadn’t been the most comfortable as of late. “You do not owe me anything, either.”

“I owe you my life,” Selin said simply. Her fingers around the tray tightened as she continued on, “It was thanks to you that the Templars spared me. You may not know the entirety of the matter, Mr. Kosthal, but I’ve seen what they do to the ones lost to the shadows. Often they hang them in public. They make an example, a warning out of them. The others, they simply disappear. You don’t hear a word about them no more.”

“Well, then I have to say I’m glad our interesting choices in life have brought us together, Selin,” Valens smiled. There was a time to push things and a time to acknowledge the obvious. The obvious in this case was the gratitude in Selin’s eyes which, while making Valens a touch uncomfortable, was still infinitely better than the genuine dread she experienced when they were inside the cathedral.

Perhaps this is not a bad thing. Perhaps this is what it was meant to be. And I could use someone who knows their way in this world.

“About that place you’ve mentioned,” Valens said after he took a sip from the tea. Mildly aromatic but perfectly palatable as an afternoon beverage since he hadn’t expected much in the first place. “I think I’ll pay a visit after I’m done with my tea. We have to get you new clothes as well.”

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Valens waved a hand. “Well, I saw those things, and even though I’m sincerely shocked that she even had dresses in her closet, I still think there’s merit in starting a new life with a new outlook in both body and mind. Fashion is important.”

“Fashion?” Selin scowled. “Clothes?”

“Indeed,” Valens smiled.

After all, I don’t have to wear robes or aprons anymore, eh?

…..

Valens turned the ring on his right index finger over and over again as they started their stroll in the famous Belgrave. It wasn’t a Magical Artifact, nor was it made from an alloy like Rootmetal that could mute the frequencies, but it had the fascinating ability to hamper one’s frequencies in a way that made the [Identify] skill useless.

Strange norms and social laws here. A gentleman peeks not at people’s business, is it?

Though it wasn’t strictly regulated by laws here, it was still frowned upon when a man or a woman brazenly displayed his class and levels to others. That was why, Selin told him, most people carried a piece of this Caligian metal in their bodies as an everyday accessory.

Not the working class, I’m afraid, and definitely not the poor people.

Maids, Nursemaids, Laborers, and even a few garbage men seemed to be singled out from this societal norm. To Valens’s thinking, they were seen as people who were out in the open, men and women with no apparent reason to hide their occupation, or no need for privacy since they were below such things.

A purposeful design. A clear indication that certain people are more valuable than others.

And that value showed itself as question marks in the [Identify] skill. There was a mysterious air to it, as if the very sight of that veiled information gave the people a distinct quality. These were likely your lawyers, businessmen, bankers. Not all too mysterious and fancy jobs on second thought, but still, this practice elevated their status to an unhealthy degree.

Well, at least it’s saving me from odd looks, which I’m sure is why the captain decided to give me one even though he said it comes with the job.

When the dreary, foggy stretch of Belgrave’s low middle-class region gave way to the true middle-class ring of the city, the sights around Valens changed. The muddy roads were scraped clean here, almost too clean that they gleamed. The high brick buildings smiled a different sight down the streets, unlike their stooped, broken brothers and sisters over the poor areas. They shone, and there were big carriages creaking from one stop to another, fetching people in the roads between.

All drawn by horses, of course, as the machinery practice seemed still at an infant age. Valens thought that with the number of manastones available in their hands, these people would have long ditched the animal side of things and would be using cars and in-city trams, but that wasn’t the case here.

They already have trains, though. Ancient trains, but trains nonetheless. I should go visit that Magi Guild today if I have a chance. The captain gave us a single day off, after all. Something tells me they don’t entirely know how to deal with mana. Not in the way the Empire’s Magi did, at least.

They merged into a crowd of appropriately clothed people going about their jobs. A few women were busy looking into the shops lined by the side, getting unapproving looks from the few men in the crowd. They wore colorful dresses embroidered with flowery designs, mostly daisies from what Valens could see.

“I think I know where to start,” Valens said, eyeing a particular shop whose front was lined with lively dresses. Selin gave him a look, then trailed his gaze to the shop and gave another look at him. “Come on, now,” Valens said as he smiled. “At least one of us can use more color.”

Then he turned and walked over to the shop. To his back, he could hear Selin’s giggling.

…..

With three bags in his right hand and two more in the left, Valens trudged miserably across the wide street, cursing the fact that until now, he had been too involved with shadowy businesses to see the practical positives of having more Strength and Endurance.

It’s not like I had to carry too many things in the past. I… didn’t do much shopping as well, even if I wanted to. Never cared much for anything, really, other than my job.

During these times, he missed the silence the Apathy brought to his mind. The true relief of any intrusive thoughts meddling with his mind or the deep boredom that came from the monotony of the job. That relieving web of emotions muted everything, which was why he refused the allure of the urge to embrace that stillness one more time.

I'll be the judge of my experience for now.

He huffed a labored breath, heard Selin asking him for the thousandth time that she could help carry the bags. She was the maid, she told him. She should’ve been the one hauling the weight.

“Nonsense,” Valens grunted. “I can do this, but perhaps next time, we should tell those dressmakers to use something other than wool or leather for their products. They’re not certainly helping with the weight.”

They had silken, satin dresses of beautiful craftsmanship. Capes, and gloves, and coats of pure delight. Trouble was, they were just as expensive as they were graceful. Thanks to them, Valens had the great pleasure of seeing the limits of his pitiful wage in mere moments.

And I thought the suit would cost more. It was nothing. The hat, the gloves… Nothing! I feel we have been deceived, defrauded, and taken to the cleaners by old faces shading the wickedness of the business under those wrinkled smiles!

Painful lessons for a man. Funny that those were the ones that truly stuck.

Onward, with the bags banging against his back, the diary he bought safely trusted to Selin's hands to be kept in good condition, they weaved across the city. It cost them a few hours to handle their most immediate needs, and when they returned to their new little flat, Valens was spent like a man who hauled rocks all day long.

I'll take a bath first.

He mumbled something to Selin and went over to the bath. It was past afternoon, which left plenty of time for him to take a look at the recent change that had happened in the depths of his chest cavity after the bath. And if he had the time, he would pay a visit to the Magi Guild as well.

I truly can’t wait to meet these fellow Magi of mine, and tell them about my pains, but before that I'm afraid I have another door to knock.

Since he had been wedged into a carriage these last two weeks with the Templars, he couldn't take out the Cursed Artifact to see what it truly was, nor did he have time to explore the Gate of Surges, fearing that he would give away an indication of the ancestry even he truly had no idea of.

Privacy is indeed important, now that I think about it.

That was more the case when too many secrets were stacked in your chest.

……