Open The Stranger

[Victor Freeman]

9th of Summer, 513 AV

It had been four days since he'd arrived in Nyka. They had been the hardest days since leaving Kenash. It wasn't anything physical- he was used to hotter temperatures and harder days. And the food he was getting at the hostel was better than he had gotten as a slave- at least most of the time. But this place had one big thing in common with the plantation, something he had not experienced in such a degree since he left. He could tell the people here did not like him. They seemed to hate outsiders. He could hardly go anywhere without getting nasty looks and glares, and he was treated with contempt in his interactions with shopkeepers. He didn't mind it as much as some might- after all, he grew up in worse. But that didn't mean he liked it. He knew that Nyka was a city that required outsiders to prove themselves, and he was determined to rise to that challenge, as it would undoubtedly prove helpful in his quest. But he was unsure of what to do, and so did what he was accustomed now to doing when he had trouble coming up with good ideas: He went to the local bar and had a drink.

This night found him in the Sharp Tongue. He had heard tell of the wheat beer served here all the way in Syliras, and so was eager to give it a try, as beers- alcohol in general, really- had become a real love of his after escaping Kenash. Much better than dirty water. So, he went into the bar, got himself a drink, and sat at a table, alone, slowly sipping on his drink and starting to contemplate. He wasn't completely sure what he expected to come up with, but knew something would come to him. He'd faced a similar challenge in Syliras when he was attempting to make a name for himself as a caravan guard, and it was a long night spent with a good drink and a lot of thought that helped him form that plan.

"Well," He mumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair and taking a long drink, "let's see what we can do."