Chapter 25
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Isvant
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After that, there weren't any real ambushes. We only ran into some half-decent monsters here and there, and we didn't even catch a glimpse of any bandits.
If they'd had the grit to come at us again, they wouldn't have been bandits in the first place. That was a bit of a shame. As dangerous as a bandit raid was, it was also a kind of opportunity.
Chances to legally slice up evil bastards and make money don't come around often.
In any case, the rest of the journey to the capital was smooth sailing with no real issues. I was just exhausted from all the night watches. With that feeling hanging over us, we finally arrived in Isvant.
It had been a long trip. Guards at the city gates came out to inspect the inside of the wagons. They strutted around barking orders, but as soon as the caravan leader handed over a leather pouch, they shut up quick. Bribes were the most essential tool for skipping complicated procedures.
"Here. 60 coppers."
With that, we entered the city, and it was time to part ways. The caravan leader pulled out twelve 5-copper coins and handed them over.
"Thanks."
Out of the ten adventurers we'd started with, only six were left by the time we got paid. The rest had died or run off during the bandit fight. The survivors were me, Jailo, James, Mutuga, the two-handed axe guy, and the psycho adventurer who'd teamed up with me to take down that bandit.
I had no intention of hanging out with these assholes anymore, so I grabbed my pay and headed straight into the city. Jailo tried to call me back, but I had no obligation to stick around.
James? Yeah, I'd kill him if I ran into him later. For now, though, we were in the city, so whatever.
Anyway, it was time to start life in Isvant. Before shaking off the travel fatigue, I decided to scout this unfamiliar city. Prioritize finding places like eateries, inns, smithies, and the guild.
But the most important was food, obviously.
My stomach was fucking killing me.
I was starving as hell.
All I'd eaten on the way were rations, so I desperately needed some real food. It was right around lunchtime, and with money in my pocket, I wanted to splurge on a good meal at a decent restaurant—something dripping with fat and protein.
I walked around looking for a place to eat.
The city's vibe felt pretty different from Krasheim. Still, it was the same in that rough-looking folks armed to the teeth were wandering everywhere.
Wherever people lived, you couldn't survive without weapons. That was the world we were in.
Nothing else really caught my eye, so I skipped it. Aside from the occasional riding drakes, nothing special. After about thirty minutes, I entered what looked like the bustling commercial district.
"Ah, fuck, what should I eat?"
This street was packed with signs and crowds.
Scanning the signs, it wouldn't be hard to find a restaurant. I picked one that seemed popular and went in. The name was... Chef Patrick's Soup Specialty Shop. Super straightforward naming sense.
I didn't know who Chef Patrick was, but if he was willing to put his name on it, it had to be decent. And calling it a "soup specialty shop" felt like a solid endorsement. Probably his best dish.
A place specializing in soups, named after the owner himself.
Yeah, this would do.
"Welcome!"
As I entered, a redheaded girl greeted me amid the aromatic smell of soup. What? They use a kid as a waitress? It was tempting to feel disgusted by the child labor exploitation, but this was standard for this world. If you could work, boys and girls alike had to labor.
I took a seat as the girl guided me.
"Hm... menu?"
The menu was plastered big on the wall.
"What would you like to order?"
"What's the best thing here?"
I asked the energetic girl.
Since I had no clue, better to ask the staff.
Safer than picking randomly and hitting a dud.
"The best is the bacon potato bean soup!"
"Yeah? How much?"
Bacon potato... just the name made my mouth water. Sounded overflowing with carbs and protein.
Perfect. Potatoes, bacon, beans—all my favorites.
"3 coppers!"
"Holy shit."
I nearly popped my eyes out at the price.
Fuck, 3 coppers for a bowl of soup?
In my years here, no meal of mine had ever cost more than 1 copper. I agonized over the extravagance, but whatever. I'd made a killing, so splurging once wouldn't hurt. I didn't want to live off human feed forever.
I placed the order and chatted with the girl.
"That one, then. Hey, miss?"
"Yes?"
She looked at me, and I pulled out a 1-copper coin.
"Miss, any good smithies or street markets around?"
I flicked the coin to her like a tip. She looked like a kid, but calling her "miss" and slipping her 1 copper would loosen her tongue easily.
Better than wandering around myself—locals knew best.
"Uh, um! So!"
The surprised girl fumbled the coin but quickly started chattering. 1 copper for info and her best smile? Solid deal. Normally unthinkable, but right now, I had money to burn.
Thanks forever, bandits.
"Smithies are mostly near the east gate, and street vendors are around the gates too!"
"Inns?"
"Hm... head to the city center for good ones. They're everywhere, but better facilities there."
As expected, she spilled everything she knew enthusiastically. To live easy in this world, you had to spend money.
"Adventurer's Guild there too?"
"Yes! First time in the city?"
"Yeah. Oh, looking for a bathhouse too."
"Plenty around, easy to find! Closest one's straight ahead out the door, then small plaza nearby!"
Anything else? she asked kindly. Tons more I wanted to know, so I grilled her. Had to get my 1 copper's worth—that shit was big money.
Her passionate rundown ended soon enough.
She bowed and headed to the kitchen.
Man, after years of scraps, real food incoming—my heart was pounding. The smell alone was insane. Eyes rolling back already.
"Enjoy!"
She brought a huge bowl of soup. I took it with trembling hands. The aroma was incredible. True to the name, packed with potatoes, bacon, and beans—huge portion, oily as hell. I was foaming at the mouth with joy.
"Salty...! Sweet and salty!"
One spoonful, and it tasted like home.
Higher sodium, better taste—that's Korean gospel. Lost in the blissful saltiness, I devoured it like my life depended on it.
"Whoa, fuck. This is fucking delicious!"
Chewy thick bacon and potatoes kept pleasing my mouth. At this quality, 3 coppers was worth it. If life got me down, I'd come back here. And the portion was so big, it could cover dinner too.
Satisfied, I left the restaurant happily.
"Come again!"
I waved back at the grinning girl. 1 copper made her that happy—like kid me.
Now to wash up. Five days marching without a bath. Long hauls sucked—no washing, shit food. As a modern guy, five days without a bath was brutal, even if meals were whatever.
Dealing with gear or settling up could wait till tomorrow.
Money meant time to spare.
Following her directions, I found a big bathhouse. Bathhouses were a city's hygiene benchmark—bigger in cleaner places. I went in.
[Admission: 1 copper]
"Fuck, cities are just money pits."
Shrugging off the shock, I washed. My naked body after five days reeked—like a dude who'd exercised hard with no shower.
I scrubbed meticulously. Scooped hot water over my head, washed top to bottom. Grime sloughed off. Took my time, got fully clean, and stepped out refreshed.
But washing was pointless with my lifelong work clothes still filthy. Still, felt good.
Next, an inn. Better in the center, so I searched the outskirts.
First-timer, got a bit lost. Found one that wasn't great even politely—a shabby three-story building called Plenty Inn. Name, looks—cozy in a cheap way. I liked dives like this.
Cheap stays.
Opened the door; bald old guy at the counter reading a newspaper. I asked,
"How much for one night?"
"2 coppers."
2 coppers? Fair price. My weekly budget was just over 30, so decent. Pending room check.
"Meals separate?"
"Dinner only. Tastes good—guests rave. Recommend it. I cook myself, so trustworthy. Worth eating."
He boasted, but no thanks. Inn food was just battered-up old scraps boiled into gross slop. Tasteless garbage.
"Water and toilets?"
"There, but small. See? Toilet out back door next to it. Well opposite."
"Got it. One night. Here."
"Take this key to room 10 on third floor. Return at checkout."
Grabbed the key, climbed stairs. Lots of rooms meant cramped, but a bed was enough for me.
Inns were just for sleeping. Bed, roof, walls—done.
Third floor, room 10. Tiny: bed, small window, lone chest. Brutal capsule hotel vibe. Not "plenty" at all, but whatever.
Chest for gear. Stripped: unbelted sword, off breastplate, quilted armor. Down to underwear.
Sword against wall, folded clothes and armor in chest, breastplate on top, boots beside.
Then, flop onto bed.
Exhausted as fuck, passed out right there.