From Righteous To Villain

I... I don't know where really I was. What I knew was that I was wielding a wooden training sword in a dusty courtyard. Around me, the sharp noise of steel hitting steel echoed as a dozen others practiced their drills under the critical eye of an instructor with an aging face and a handful of scars. The tang of sweat and sawdust filled my lungs, making me wrinkle my nose and feel... queasy. My arms burned from repeating the same overhead strike again and again, but some unrelenting part of me refused to quit even when I wanted to stop and look around. I wanted to ask what was happening and where I was, but I couldn't. I wasn't in control. As soon as the drill ended, the scene shifted, dissolving into a mixture of colors and shapes.

Thinking back, it was clear it was a dream, but at that moment, it seemed so real that I had never noticed it.

Suddenly, I was at a different spot, crouched in the middle of a dense forest, heart pounding while I pressed myself up against a thick, rough tree trunk. A grizzled adventurer—someone I recognized as an older mentor—nudged me forward, whispering about stalking our prey quietly, about how my life depended on reading the wind and listening for the slightest crack of twig or brush of leaves. He lectured me to always look for the direction of the wind and not let my scent carry me toward my target, only always away from it. My breath was caught in my throat as we crept toward our target. It was just a wild boar rummaging in the undergrowth... but at that moment, it felt like the greatest enemy I could face in the world. Then that image, too, faded away right when I was about to make my move.

"Bullshit..." I heard myself cursing that I was being swirled up in my dream again, whisked away to a different memory.

A blur of cityscapes followed right after. I tried naming them as they flashed by, but I was unable to do so. I saw stone streets appearing under mee, blacksmith shops and potion stalls, and a row of notice boards with pinned job requests. Slipping through this dreamscape, I caught glimpses of words in a script I only half understood. My dream self knew them as bounties or escort missions, but their meaning blurred as if I was trying to look through two sets of eyes at once—my old and new lives colliding in my subconscious. My heart raced, overwhelmed by the swirl of sudden memories and emotions, including sword forms, campsite cooking tips, and the protocol for haggling in a marketplace for an optimal price without offending the seller. Then, from far away, voices thundered in my head, some of which I had vague recollections of. Teachers, friends, maybe even the screams of the people I'd lost in the caravan ambush.

"I? It was I who lost them? No... I did not..."

Then the swirl halted abruptly, snapping into a final, abrupt memory: an older, experienced adventurer awarding me a Bronze-tier bracelet. His pride and happiness were both evident as he clasped it onto my wrist, warning that the path ahead would be dangerous, but he said I could do it. He said that I earned this. I, Auriel, he'd said, his voice tinged with hope, was an excellent student. That... He said that I shouldn't waste the chance to be something great and grab it by the ankles.

"Well... good luck with that now..." I thought before wincing.

A lance of pain shot through me, and the dreamscape collapsed into an all-consuming darkness.

...

....

...

I bolted upright, drenched in sweat. The dim lamplight of my tavern room revealed the same old rickety furniture, my scant belongings by the bedside, including my damaged sword, just at an arm's reach. Pressing a shaky hand to my forehead, I tried to sort out the dreams, realizing that they were not dreams. This time, I knew at once that they were the memories of this other Auriel, even if they were rapidly disappearing in a post-dream clarity. The images that were sharp and vivid only a second ago were turning faded and into something I struggled to recall.

"They weren't mine," I whispered hoarsely, but that wasn't entirely true. All of the images, all of the noises, the voices, the faces... Everything that flashed past me felt more personal as if all of it belonged to me. It was confusing… but I'll deal with it later.

"Hungry..." I cursed, feeling weak.

My stomach growled fiercely, cutting through my tangled thoughts, agreeing with me and telling me that I finally had a proper thought for myself. Well, I could understand why because I remembered that I hadn't eaten since I munched the ration from the wrecked caravan, traveling to the city. It was... not much. Right then, hunger was the loudest thing in my world. With a resigned sigh, I climbed out of bed, stretched, collected my belongings, and quietly opened the door, intending to find something to eat.

Outside, the narrow hall was lit by one rickety lantern, the smell of roasted meat and stale ale drifting up from below. Even at this early hour, the tavern must be serving breakfast for travelers or returning adventurers. It seemed life wasn't pausing even for a moment in a place like this. To make the least amount of noise for those who were still asleep, I carefully descended the staircase, hoping not to draw too much attention. I didn't want to get into a conflict right away.

The main room of the tavern was relatively calm. A few bleary-eyed adventurers sat at the tables, hugging mugs of something hot, likely spiced tea or weak beer, judging by the smell. The barkeep, a stout woman with braided hair, working the night shift, I assumed, lifted her head in silent acknowledgment as I approached the counter.

"Morning," she said bluntly, voice rough from years of shouting over rowdy patrons. Or smoking. I guess. "Adventurer, right? You lodging with the Guild, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yes." I gave a short nod, taking an empty seat at the bar. "I'd like something to eat, if possible." Glancing around, I noticed what looked like a basic breakfast: bread, a thin stew, maybe some dried fruit. Simple, but right now, everything looked like a perfect match for my rumbling stomach.

"That'll be five coppers," she said, ladling stew into a wooden bowl. "Three if you're on the Guild's discount." She nodded at the Bronze-tier bracelet on my wrist.

My stomach twisted as I pulled out the small pouch I had. Coins from the caravan… I counted them: a mix of coppers and silvers, far fewer than I'd realized. Probably enough for a day or two of meals—if that. I should be grateful to find even that much because I was sure most of the wealth was taken away by the bandits. After paying for the stew, I'd barely have anything left, but my stomach was not taking no for an answer.

"Mhm," I forced a smile I didn't feel when the woman put the meal before me. "Thanks," I mumbled and plunged the coins onto the counter. With a slight raise of her brow, the barkeep checked the total and pocketed them, only paying as much attention to me as necessary. As if she thought anything of my grimace, realizing that my net worth was now near zero... No matter. At least I had something warm to fill my belly with.

Shaking away my thoughts, I dug into the stew. The salty broth was not something I would find appetizing, but at that moment, it was a gourmet-level culinary experience. Every spoonful reminded me of how precarious my position was, giving it an extra spice: I was stuck in this city of Korvar, short on cash, and effectively under house arrest. If I tried to flee, I'd probably get pegged as guilty of something. Then, I would be pegged differently in the prisons. If anything, I think the local cells would be at the minimum level of medieval rat-infested death traps, while a cold, lightless hole at best. If I stayed, I needed money to survive.

"And to get out..." I added, barely audible.

Thinking ahead, I stared at the bowl. Maybe I could pick up a small job from the Guild's quest board—assuming they'd even let me, given I was under suspicion. For sure, I could only do jobs restricted to the city. Or perhaps there were other ways to earn coin in a city this large, though that might mean stepping into shady territory and raising suspicion towards me. Still, I should keep the option open, especially if they decide I am indeed suspicious. I am not going to take the blame for something I shouldn't even involve myself in the first place.

"I am not Auriel after all..." I muttered to myself, catching my thoughts slipping out and glancing up, but nobody was there to listen to my tired rambling. I may have slept a little, but with that weird dream, I didn't feel that rested yet.

Deciding to refocus my thoughts, I finished the last bit of stew, my mind already racing about my next step. One thing was certain: I'm not going to starve here like an idiot. The real question was whether I'd do it by playing nice with the Guild or by slipping into the underbelly of Korvar to find some desperate, well-paying gig or someone who would be willing to smuggle me out if here. My best idea was to skip the country, if possible, and get to somewhere where nobody would know this face of mine.

For now, at least, I had one advantage: a body that felt young and healthy and some scattered knowledge from its training. I was pretty sure I could wield a sword; as for how well, I couldn't tell, but I was confident enough that I could survive. If not, why bother? No? So I had to believe the feeling. Both could become assets if I used them right.

After finishing, I pushed the empty bowl aside. The future might bring answers about the caravan attack, or it might bring more scrutiny from the Guild. Either way, I refused to sit idle. Whatever they stole was not my problem. Whatever they will learn by going there was in the past, and I no longer had anything to do with it! If I wanted to survive, I needed to earn enough to keep a roof over my head and, hopefully, find a path away from constant suspicion and then this abysmal starting region.

"Heh... like in a game, huh?" I looked at my bracelet, "Maybe I should act as if it is one. Then I wouldn't feel this nervous."

No more letting life push me around. No matter what it took, I'd carve out a place for myself in this city—or vanish with enough coin to start somewhere else entirely. I heard somewhere that life is a gamble anyway, and I was ready to play.