Ch3:A mysterious old man.

With a newfound fortune of 270 brass coins jingling in his pocket, Archeas felt a rare sense of power and freedom as he navigated the bustling streets of Crolas. He decided to spend some of his money on the things he had always dreamed of but never had the means to acquire.

First, he visited a modest clothing stall, where the merchant eyed him skeptically until he produced a handful of coins. Archeas selected a sturdy set of clothes—brown trousers, a white shirt, and a dark vest—that fit him well and made him look almost respectable. Next, he found a cobbler and purchased a new pair of shoes, marveling at the comfort and fit compared to his old, worn-out pair.

"Feels like a whole new me," Archeas thought, admiring his reflection in a shop window. "Maybe people won't look down on me so much now."

As evening approached, Archeas treated himself to a hearty dinner at a small tavern—a bowl of stew, a loaf of bread, and a mug of cider. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, enjoying the rare pleasure of a full stomach. By the time he paid for his meal, he had 160 brass coins left, a sum that still felt like a small fortune to him.

"I can get by for a while with this," he mused, pocketing the remaining coins. "But I need to be careful, make it last."

Returning to his usual spot in the alley, Archeas settled down for the night. The new clothes and shoes, along with the lingering warmth from the meal, made the hard ground feel slightly more bearable. As he lay there, his thoughts turned to the future.

"Maybe I can find a way out of this," he whispered to himself, staring up at the sliver of sky visible between the rooftops. "Maybe this ring is my lucky charm."

He pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. The intricate carvings seemed to catch the faint light, casting tiny shadows that danced across his fingers.

"What's your story?" he wondered aloud, feeling a strange connection to the object. "Where did you come from, and why did you end up with me?"

The possibilities spun through his mind as sleep began to overtake him. Archeas knew that surviving in Crolas meant always being one step ahead, always planning for the next day.

"Tomorrow," he thought, his eyes growing heavy, "I'll see what more I can learn about this ring. Maybe it's worth more than just a few coins."

With that, he tucked the ring safely back into his pocket, closed his eyes, and let the sounds of the city lull him to sleep. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Archeas felt a glimmer of hope. He had a plan, a bit of money, and a mysterious ring that might just change his fate.

Archeas opened his eyes, wincing at the dull ache in his head. He sat up slowly, realizing with a start that he was in a different alley than the one he had fallen asleep in. The unfamiliar surroundings were disorienting, and he rubbed his temples, trying to piece together what had happened the night before.

"Where am I?" he muttered, looking around the narrow alleyway. "How did I get here?"

Fragments of memories began to surface—shadowy figures looming over him as he slept, rough hands grabbing him, and then a sharp blow to the head. Archeas touched the sore spot gingerly, wincing at the tenderness.

"Robbed," he thought, panic rising. "Did they take everything?"

Frantically, he patted his pockets, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the familiar shape of the ring still safely tucked inside. He pulled it out, the greyish-black metal glinting faintly in the morning light.

"At least they didn't get you," he whispered, clutching the ring tightly. "But what about my coins?"

His heart sank as he checked his other pockets and found them empty. The money bag he had stolen from the attendant was gone, along with the hard-earned brass coins he had left after buying his new clothes and shoes.

"Damn it," Archeas cursed, slumping against the alley wall. "Back to square one."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Despite the loss, he was grateful they hadn't found the ring. Its presence reassured him, a small but significant consolation.

"Alright, Archeas," he said aloud, pushing himself to his feet. "Time to figure this out. No use dwelling on what's gone."

He straightened his new clothes, which thankfully were still intact, and started making his way back to the more familiar parts of the city. As he walked, he kept his eyes open for any signs of the people who had attacked him, though he knew the chances of finding them were slim.

"First things first," he decided. "Get some food, then see if I can find out more about this ring. Maybe it's worth more than I thought."

As he emerged from the alley, the marketplace of Crolas came into view, bustling with the usual morning activity. Archeas took a deep breath, steeling himself for another day of navigating the crowded streets and looking for opportunities.

"This ring," he thought, feeling its weight in his pocket, "it's got to mean something. Maybe it's the key to getting out of this life."

Archeas moved through the bustling marketplace of Crolas with practiced ease, his eyes scanning for potential targets. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and the loss of his coins weighed heavily on his mind. He needed to find an opportunity to replenish his dwindling resources.

As he turned a corner, he spotted an old man sitting alone on a bench. The man appeared to be dozing, a small bag resting by his side. Archeas's heart quickened; this seemed like an easy mark.

"Perfect," he thought, edging closer. "Just grab the bag and slip away."

With a deftness born of years of practice, Archeas snatched the bag and melted into the crowd. He moved quickly, his pulse racing, until he found a secluded alley where he could inspect his prize.

Meanwhile, back at the bench, the old man opened his eyes as his assistant approached, a young woman with a stern expression.

"Master Cyril, you can't just sit here and doze off," she chided. "We have business to attend to."

Cyril, the old man, sighed, stretching his weary limbs. "Ah, Marla, I'm too old for this hustle and bustle. Let a man rest."

Marla's eyes narrowed as she noticed the missing bag. "Where's your bag, Master Cyril?"

Cyril chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, that? It got stolen."

Marla's jaw dropped. "Stolen? That bag alone is worth more than a small country! How could you let that happen?"

"It's good, really," Cyril replied, still smiling. "The one who stole it will never find its true value."

Marla shook her head in exasperation. "I swear, Master Cyril, sometimes I think you enjoy these little dramas."

Cyril's laughter echoed softly through the marketplace. "Perhaps I do, Marla. Perhaps I do."

***

In the alley, Archeas sat down, eager to see what he had stolen. He opened the bag carefully, expecting to find money or valuables. Instead, he found a collection of strange items: a small, ornate key, a piece of parchment covered in unfamiliar symbols, and a peculiar stone that shimmered with an inner light.

"What is all this?" Archeas wondered aloud, confusion etched on his face. "No coins, no jewels... just these weird trinkets."

Despite his initial disappointment, curiosity got the better of him. He examined each item closely, particularly the parchment with its cryptic symbols.

"Maybe this old man knew something I don't," he thought. "Or maybe these things are worth more than they seem."

As he pondered the items, the weight of the ring in his pocket reminded him that not everything of value was immediately apparent. The old man's bag might hold secrets worth far more than a few coins.

"Alright," Archeas decided, tucking the items back into the bag. "I'll figure this out. There's got to be a way to uncover their true worth."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Archeas left the alley, blending back into the marketplace. The city of Crolas was full of mysteries, and today, he had stumbled upon one that might just change his fate.