The sun had just started to set, casting orange and violet hues across the sky. Kurt Allester sat stiffly on a wide, moss-covered rock by the stream, scrubbing his arms with a wet rag that Aria had given him earlier. The water was clear, but he kept checking for any suspicious particles floating by.
"Ugh… Do people here not use soap?" he complained, sniffing the damp cloth and pulling back. "Is this... goat fat?"
Aria, a short distance away with her boots off and feet in the stream, chuckled. "It's scented tallow. It works fine. You're so picky."
"I'm a perfectionist. That's one of my traits. Picky is an understatement," Kurt replied as he shook off excess water and dried his hands on the cleaner part of his tunic.
He grimaced at his reflection. His normally neat hair had become wild and curly from humidity and sweat. His once-crisp shirt was now a stained, wrinkled mess.
He groaned. "I look like an extra from a post-apocalyptic farming game."
Aria watched him with a mix of confusion and amusement. "You talk really strangely, you know that?"
"I'm just... cultured," he said, waving vaguely. "Listen. I need decent clothes. And soap. And somewhere to sleep without worrying about rats crawling into my ears."
Aria splashed the water lazily. "There's a town a bit northwest from here. Two or three hours if we take the long way and avoid the monster paths."
Kurt paused. "Monster paths?"
"You know, like goblin tracks, dire boars, maybe a wild lizardkin patrol. Nothing too serious."
He stared at her.
She laughed. "We'll avoid them. Besides, it's been quiet these days. You'll be fine if you stay close."
Kurt stood, wincing at the wet squish of his boots. "We're going tomorrow, right? Because I'm not walking through a dark forest smelling like a barn and risking tetanus."
Aria blinked. "What's tet-a-nus?"
"Exactly," Kurt muttered, brushing dust off his sleeves with careful, deliberate swipes.
That Night
Aria set up a small camp under a tree with practiced ease. She handed him a piece of dried meat and a flatbread-like cracker.
"What's this?" Kurt poked the food suspiciously.
"Jerky. And travel biscuit. Good for the road."
"It smells like feet."
"Still better than starving."
He took a slow bite. The jerky was tough, smoky, and slightly sweet. Not bad, actually, but he made a face anyway.
He leaned against a tree, gazing at the stars. A soft wind rustled the leaves above.
It was too quiet.
No cars. No city noise. No electric buzz.
Just wind, insects, and the distant call of some oversized owl.
He hated how calm it was.
"Hey, Aria," he said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"You said this is the continent of Amasia, right?"
She nodded.
"And this is the central region?"
"Eastern side. Near the outskirts of Velmark's territory."
Kurt's mind clicked into gear. That name. Velmark. One of the early human kingdoms. So they were still in the pre-war time. The hero hadn't appeared yet. That gave him time. Time to plan.
He needed shelter. Supplies. Cleanliness. And a way to survive long-term without drawing too much attention.
That meant doing what he was best at.
Thinking.
He scribbled on a scrap of bark with a piece of burnt stick, his makeshift notepad and charcoal.
To-Do List:
- Find permanent housing.
- Get money.
- Acquire basic hygiene products (soap, sanitizer, toothbrushes).
- Avoid major historical events unless absolutely necessary.
- Stay alive.
- Don't get pulled into the Hero's journey.
He paused, then added:
- Maybe start a side business with Aria. Low risk. Good income.
That last part came from somewhere deep within him. From the memory of Aria smiling as she handed him that rag. She didn't know who he was. Didn't care. But she helped anyway.
"Do you have a goal, Aria?" he asked, interrupting her mid-bite.
She blinked, then swallowed. "A goal?"
"Yeah. A dream. Something beyond this." He gestured vaguely at the wilderness.
She looked away, thoughtful. "I want a shop. A real one. In a big town. Not just roadside stalls. I want people to remember my name."
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "That's ambitious."
She grinned. "And you?"
"I just want to avoid dying from dysentery."
She laughed again, louder this time. "That's your dream?"
"It's a start," he muttered.
The Next Morning
They packed up early. Kurt insisted on rinsing his hands and face again, even though the water was freezing. Aria rolled her eyes but waited.
They followed the dirt road toward the town of Briskmere, a mid-sized human settlement known for trade and its closeness to a small magic academy.
As they walked, Kurt kept an eye out for anything familiar. Landmarks, ruins, or monster nests he had written about. It felt strange; he had created this world. Designed it right down to the shape of the cobblestones and the style of inns.
But now, living in it felt unreal.
"Do people here know how soap works?" he asked suddenly.
Aria frowned. "Like scented oil?"
"No. Real soap. Lye, fats, alkali, never mind. If I made some, would people buy it?"
Aria looked intrigued. "Well... sure. If it cleans better than crushed mint leaves or wood ash, I bet nobles would line up."
"Then we're making soap," Kurt said firmly. "Step one in my business empire."
"Wait, seriously?"
He smiled, his first real smile since arriving. "You wanted a shop. I need hygiene. We both win."
And deep down, he thought:
If I'm stuck here, I'm not going to rot in filth. I'll build something better. Even if it kills me.