After Qen received his reward at the outpost, he wandered down the bustling main road of the capital. Merchants shouted their prices, children ran between stalls, and the smell of roasted meat and baked bread lingered in the air. As he walked, an inn caught his attention. Its windows glowed warmly, and the sound of laughter spilled into the street. Curious, he pushed open the door.
The lively and joyful atmosphere inside surprised him. Soldiers, travelers, and townsfolk filled the room, talking cheerfully as mugs clinked together. Qen approached the innkeeper and asked to rent a room for the night. He also ordered a fish dish before finding a seat at a table near the corner.
While waiting for his food, a small child tugged at his sleeve. "Mister… spare a coin?" the boy asked softly. Qen's stern face softened. He reached into his pouch and handed the boy a single copper coin. The child's face brightened instantly, bowing in thanks before darting off into the crowd. Qen couldn't help but smile faintly, though his smile faded the moment the dish arrived.
The aroma was warm and familiar. When he took the first bite, memories flooded back—the gentle hands of his mother preparing food, her soft voice humming in the kitchen. His chest tightened as tears slipped down his cheeks.
"Mama… I miss you so much," he whispered under his breath.
He ate slowly, savoring every bite, as though it were the last meal he would ever taste. When the plate was finally empty, he placed the payment on the table and made his way to his rented room.
The small chamber was quiet, with a single bed and a wooden window that overlooked the street. He opened the shutters and leaned out, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face. For a long time, he simply stood there, thinking. His mind returned to what the driver had told him earlier—about the eastern lands of the kingdom, vast and untamed. Free land, but dangerous, thick with dark trees, prowling beasts, and fearsome monsters.
At first, the idea seemed reckless. Yet the more he thought about it, the more it tempted him. A place where no one would disturb him… a place where he could live freely, far away from the betrayal of comrades and the stench of war.
"I'll go there," he finally murmured to himself. "Even if it's dangerous… it's better than staying here."
He closed the window, laid down on the bed, and drifted into a deep sleep.
---
The next morning, a knock on his door woke him. The innkeeper's voice called, "Sir, it's morning already! Come down and have a meal."
Qen rubbed his eyes, stretched, and gathered his sword and belongings. After washing his face, he went downstairs and ordered breakfast, sitting at a table near the stairs. The food was simple but filling, and when he finished, he quietly slipped a single gold coin beneath the plate as a generous tip. Without another word, he stepped out into the bright streets of the capital.
The marketplace was alive with noise. Qen strolled through, purchasing a new light sword, a set of steel armor, and bundles of bread for the road ahead. While browsing, something unusual caught his eye—a wagon for sale. He approached the seller, an older man with sun-worn skin.
"How much for the wagon?" Qen asked.
"It's seven gold coins," the man replied, "and if you want it with two horses, I'll let the whole set go for ten."
Qen hesitated, weighing the cost. Finally, he handed over the coins. "I'll take it."
With the seller's help, the wagon was hitched to two strong horses. At first, Qen struggled to control them—jerking the reins too tightly or tapping too hard—but soon he found the rhythm. He guided the wagon through the crowded streets until the eastern gate of the capital came into view.
A toll guard stopped him. Qen paid the fee and continued through the gate. As the city disappeared behind him, he let out a short laugh. "Hah… maybe it's better to just walk than ride this thing." Still chuckling, he flicked the reins, urging the horses forward.
The journey took him past sprawling rice fields and quiet villages. Farmers waved as he passed, and the cool wind carried the scent of earth and crops. But as the sun sank and shadows stretched across the land, Qen pulled the wagon to the side of the road. He gathered sticks and built a campfire, sitting against a tree as the flames crackled.
Then, in the distance, a howl pierced the silence.
"Awoooohhh…"
The sound grew louder as five wolves emerged from the darkness, their eyes glowing fiercely, saliva dripping from their jaws. Qen rose immediately, gripping his sword. The beasts circled, growling, before lunging.
The first wolf leapt at him, claws outstretched. Qen sidestepped and drove his blade into its throat. It fell with a whimper. The other two lunged wildly, forcing him back. Their claws grazed his shoulder, ripping through his tunic. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward—thrusting his sword into one wolf's head and slashing another across the ribs. Blood sprayed, and the pack hesitated.
Only two remained—the alpha and one other. They snarled but backed away, deciding not to risk further losses. With a final growl, they vanished into the night.
Breathing heavily, Qen staggered to a tree and tore a strip of cloth from his tunic, binding the wound on his shoulder. He checked on the wagon, relieved to find the horses unharmed, then returned to sit by the fire. Exhaustion settled over him as the stars spread across the night sky.
"Just the first night," he muttered to himself. "And already… danger."
Yet despite the pain and fatigue, his lips curled into a faint smile. For the first time in a long while, Qen felt he was moving toward something that was truly his own.