Chương 4: Under the Stars

The wind swept along the Seine, weaving between the buildings and occasionally lifting the tattered edges of Aldric's cloak. The city's lights shimmered across the dark water, broken by the passing boats and the slow movement of the current. Along the riverbanks, groups of people continued to stroll, laugh, or pause beside the railings. Some cradled steaming cups in their hands, while others sat shoulder to shoulder on the steps.

As the sun disappeared, the streetlights came alive without a single servant lighting them. A soft white glow spread through the streets, driving back the darkness with an ease that would have impressed even Asteria's greatest mages. Yet despite all that light, Aldric could not find a single place where he could spend the night. He had followed the city's main avenues, watching people enter buildings carrying bags and emerge a few minutes later, but none of them resembled an inn.

Some facades displayed glowing signs, while others showed pictures of rooms, meals, or drinks. Doors slid open for visitors without anyone needing to touch them, then quietly closed again behind them. Aldric had approached one such establishment, but a man dressed in a black jacket stopped him at the entrance. The man's eyes drifted over the bloodstained armor, then to the sword hanging at his belt, before asking whether he had a reservation.

Aldric explained that he was simply looking for a place to sleep until sunrise. The man responded by asking for a bank card, a security deposit, and a form of identification. None of those terms meant anything to him, except for security deposit, which in his world usually referred to the gold paid to a jailer in exchange for a prisoner's temporary release. Aldric left without pressing the matter. He could have offered one of his gold coins, but revealing his wealth in an unfamiliar city seemed unwise.

Innkeepers, merchants, and thieves often wore the same look when they spotted a heavy coin pouch. So he continued walking, crossing one street after another as the timer on his quest steadily counted down. △ OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE △ Find Shelter Time Remaining: 2 Hours 47 Minutes Two hours was more than enough time to find shelter. He didn't need a bed or even a particularly sturdy roof. A porch, a grove of trees, or even the recess of a wall would do.

During the Northern Campaign, he had slept beneath an overturned wagon for three days while goblins prowled only a few yards away. Spending one night in the heart of a human city could hardly be considered a trial. At the end of one avenue, iron gates surrounded a vast area shrouded in a softer darkness than the streets beyond. Behind the bars, the silhouettes of trees stood beneath the glow of the lamps. Winding paths disappeared into clusters of bushes, while a few benches lined the edge of a pond.

Aldric approached the entrance. No guards blocked the way, and the gates stood open. A metal plaque was mounted beside the entrance, covered in writing he could understand thanks to the system. The name of the place appeared above its opening hours and a list of rules. He skimmed them quickly but found nothing forbidding people from sleeping there. He stepped through the gates. The noise of the city faded almost immediately.

The rumble of vehicles could still be heard in the distance, but the trees muffled the sound. The scent of damp earth and vegetation gradually replaced that of metal and smoke. Aldric slowed his pace. The trees were old, their thick trunks streaked with patches of moss. Beneath their branches, broad lawns stretched toward flower beds whose colors were already fading into the night. Statues stood along the winding paths, depicting men and women dressed like nobles.

One held a book against her chest, while another lifted her chin toward the sky, her face frozen in a peaceful expression. Aldric stopped beside a pond. The water reflected the city's lights, and a few leaves drifted across its surface. Birds slept among the branches overhead. A small animal darted across the path, its bushy tail held high behind it, before vanishing into a shrub. No cries split the air. No growls rose from the darkness.

After years spent sleeping in camps surrounded by walls, traps, and soldiers, the silence felt almost unreal. He continued exploring until he found a secluded corner of the park, far from the main paths. A large tree spread its branches over a patch of grass, forming a natural canopy. Its roots rose from the ground, creating a hollow large enough for a man to lean against. A hedge a few yards away sheltered the spot from the wind. Aldric rested one hand against the bark and surveyed the surroundings.

The place was perfect. He unfastened his scabbard, laid his sword beside the trunk, and removed his cloak. The fabric was stained with dust, dried blood, and several burn marks, but it could still serve as a blanket. Aldric spread it over the grass, sat down, and began undoing the straps of his pauldrons. The metal slipped free with a muted clink. Beneath the armor, his tunic clung to his chest, soaked with sweat and blood.

A dark bruise stretched along his ribs, and the wound left by the Demon King's spear had started bleeding again. He pressed two fingers against the injury. The heat had faded, but a black discoloration still surrounded the flesh. △ STATUS EFFECT △ Demonic Blood Contamination Severity: Decreasing Estimated Recovery: 18 Hours Aldric pulled a small waterskin from his belt. Only a little water remained at the bottom.

He poured a few drops onto a strip of cloth, cleaned the wound, and tightened the bandage around his side. When he was finished, he adjusted his tunic and leaned back against the trunk. Above him, the sky was visible through the branches. The lights of Paris washed out many of the stars, but a few still shone. Aldric recognized a constellation he had often followed during his travels. Three stars formed a slanted line, accompanied by a fainter star to their right.

In his world, soldiers called it the Traveler's Spear. It pointed north throughout the winter. He gazed at it for a long time. If the same stars existed here, then perhaps his world was not as distant as he had feared. Perhaps this was simply another continent, hidden beyond the known seas. And yet no map had ever mentioned a city like this. No kingdom could have concealed such a vast population, towering metal structures, and hundreds of golems without merchants or explorers speaking of them.

A dull ache tightened around his chest. It had nothing to do with his wounds. At this very moment, the survivors were probably still searching the ruins of the fortress. Perhaps the king had already sent mages to look for any trace of him. Tomorrow, they would celebrate their victory. Bells would ring across the capitals, banners would hang from every window, and thousands of families would mourn those who had never returned. Aldric closed his eyes. He wished he could be there with them.

A rustling sound rose from behind the hedge. Aldric's eyes snapped open, and his fingers instantly closed around the hilt of his sword. A figure slipped between the branches. A man stepped onto the path, pushing a small cart mounted on wheels. Several bags hung from its sides, some bulging with clothes, others with objects Aldric could not identify. A rolled-up blanket rested on top, secured with a length of rope. The man wore an oversized coat whose sleeves hung down to his knuckles.

A gray-and-brown beard covered his face, while a black knit cap concealed almost all of his hair. The man stopped the moment he spotted Aldric. Their eyes met. The man immediately placed one hand on one of the bags hanging from his cart.

"This is my spot," he said. His voice was rough, as though every word scraped against his throat. Aldric kept his hand on his sword.

"I wasn't aware of that."

"Well, now you are." The man looked over the armor lying on the grass, then at the black blood still staining the breastplate. His gaze drifted down to the scabbard.

"Is that a real sword?"

"Of course," Aldric replied. The man took a small step back, his fingers tightening around the bag. Only then did Aldric notice the handle of a small knife protruding from the man's pocket. Neither of them moved for several long seconds. The wind rustled the branches overhead, and a vehicle rolled past on the nearby street. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I have no wish to claim your territory," Aldric said.

"My territory?"

"This place. You said it belonged to you."

"I said it's my spot. Not my kingdom." Aldric gave a slight nod. The distinction escaped him, but the man no longer seemed interested in fighting.

"I can leave." He reached for his armor. The stranger watched him for a moment, then let out a sigh.

"Forget it. The park's big enough." He pushed his cart over to a bench beneath a nearby tree. The wheels creaked over the gravel. Once he arrived, he made sure several times that Aldric was keeping his distance before untying his blanket. He spread it across the bench, then pulled out a piece of cardboard and propped it against the backrest. Aldric watched his every move. The man knew this place well.

He chose the driest ground, arranged his bags to block the wind, and kept his most important belongings close at hand. His camp reminded Aldric of the scouts who spent weeks behind enemy lines.

"Do you travel alone?" Aldric asked.

"What's it to you?"

"Your equipment suggests you've been on the road for a long time."

"My equipment?" the man repeated, pointing at his bags.

"You call this equipment?"

"You carry your shelter, your clothing, and your supplies. You chose a place sheltered from the wind and close to an exit. You must be accustomed to traveling."

"Yeah. You could say that." He sat down on the bench and rummaged through one of his bags. He pulled out a nearly empty plastic bottle, raised it to his lips, and took several swallows. Aldric studied the transparent container. He had already seen the city's people drinking from such objects, but he still couldn't understand how something so flexible and transparent could be made.

"You're really going to sleep there?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"On the grass?"

"It's dry."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it?"

"Because nobody sleeps outside by choice." Aldric looked around. The park remained peaceful. The tree sheltered him from the wind, the ground was soft, and no dangerous creatures seemed to be lurking nearby.

"And yet you sleep here." The man's jaw tightened. His gaze drifted away from Aldric and disappeared among the trees.

"I never said I wanted to." Silence settled between them. Aldric studied the bags, the worn clothes, and the shoes whose soles were beginning to peel away. He had thought he was speaking to a traveler. Yet no horse waited for him, no caravan was due to arrive, and none of his belongings bore the mark of any guild or kingdom.

"Is your home far from here?" Aldric asked.

"I don't have one."

"Was it destroyed?"

"No."

"Taken by an enemy?"

"Nope." Aldric frowned.

"Then why can't you return to it?"

"Because I don't have one," the man repeated.

"No apartment. No room. Nothing. I sleep wherever people leave me alone."

"Have you been exiled?"

"No."

"Are you wanted by the city guard?"

"Nope."

"Did you lose your clan?" The man ran a hand through his beard.

"Where exactly are you from?"

"The Kingdom of Asteria."

"Never heard of it."

"It's several weeks on horseback from the Sea of Sorna."

"Never heard of that either."

"I expected as much." The man looked him over once more, his eyes lingering on the armor.

"So what's with the outfit?"

"I defeated the Demon King this morning." The stranger remained silent. Aldric expected him to laugh, but instead he simply gave a slow nod.

"You've had one hell of a day."

"It's been a long one."

"Yeah. I can see that." The man leaned over, opened another bag, and pulled out a crumpled package. Inside were a few broken crackers. He picked one up, brought it to his mouth, and chewed slowly. Aldric felt his stomach tighten. He still hadn't eaten since arriving in this world. His travel supplies were nearly exhausted, but he still had one field ration tucked away inside his cloak. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

As he unfolded it, the scent of dried meat and herbs drifted beneath the branches. Inside lay two pieces of hardened bread, a strip of smoked meat, and a handful of nuts. The man watched his every movement.

"What's that?"

"A field ration."

"Looks old."

"It was prepared nine days ago."

"Then it's old." Aldric rose to his feet, crossed the few steps separating them, and stopped in front of the man. He broke one of the loaves in half and held out one half along with a piece of smoked meat.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Because you're hungry."

"You don't know that."

"You're eating those crackers slowly to trick your body into thinking there are more of them." The man looked down at the cracker between his fingers.

"What about you?"

"I'm hungry as well."

"Keep your food."

"A shared ration doesn't last as long, but it's easier to bear." The man stared at the bread for several seconds. Finally, he reached out and accepted it. His fingers were red from the cold, his nails blackened with dirt.

"Thank you," he murmured. Aldric gave a slight nod. He bit into his portion. The bread was so hard that he had to tear it apart with force, but its familiar taste reminded him of campfires, long rides, and the meals shared before battle. Across from him, the man chewed carefully. He finished the bread first, then held onto the strip of meat in his hand.

"What's your name?" Aldric asked.

"Michel."

"Aldric of Valdor."

"I know. You told the cops earlier."

"You were there?"

"Not far away. A knight covered in blood jumping over a car tends to draw attention."

"So they truly are the city's guards?"

"The police, yeah."

"They seemed honorable to me."

"Guess you ran into the good ones." Aldric returned to his tree. He lowered himself against the trunk, shifted slightly until he found a more comfortable position, then resumed eating.

"You know Paris well?"

"Well enough to know where you can sleep without getting chased off, where to find water, where to eat cheap, and which streets to stay away from at night."

"Then you are a guide."

"No."

"Yet you possess the knowledge of a scout."

"Call it whatever you want." Michel finally bit into the smoked meat. His eyes closed for a brief moment before he began chewing even more slowly.

"If I am to remain here for some time, what should I know?" Aldric asked.

"A lot."

"Start with the most important things." Michel swallowed before pointing at the sword.

"First, don't pull that thing out. People will call the police."

"I understand."

"Second, wash your armor. It looks like you murdered someone."

"It's the Demon King's blood."

"Sure it is."

"It is remarkably difficult to remove." Michel nodded as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer.

"There are public fountains and restrooms in some train stations, but wearing that armor, you'll stand out everywhere."

"What is a train station?"

"A place where you catch a train."

"What is a train?"

"A huge machine that carries people." « Like the long white golems?"

"You mean buses?"

"Perhaps."

"No. A train is even bigger." Aldric nodded, impressed. Michel then explained the city's basic rules. He spoke of the subway running beneath the streets, neighborhoods where housing cost far more than others, and shops that stayed open almost all night. Aldric interrupted him whenever he encountered an unfamiliar word. He asked why people used cards instead of coins, how the traffic signals worked, and whether the great metal tower truly served as a fortress. Michel laughed for the first time.

"The Eiffel Tower? A fortress?"

"It overlooks the entire region."

"It's mostly for tourists."

"Foreign explorers?"

"Something like that."

"And the people capturing images with their artifacts?"

"Those are phones."

"Nearly everyone owns a phone?"

"Pretty much." Aldric fell silent. A kingdom wealthy enough to provide nearly every citizen with a memory artifact possessed unimaginable riches. And yet Michel slept outside, without a home or servants.

"Why doesn't the ruler of this city provide you with a place to live?" he asked.

"That's not how it works."

"Surely a city this wealthy has empty buildings."

"It does."

"Then why do some of its people sleep outdoors?" Michel ran his tongue across his dry lips. He looked up at the lights glowing through the branches.

"Because it's complicated."

"That is not an answer."

"Because you need money for everything. To eat. To sleep. To get around. Even when someone's willing to rent you a room, they want paperwork, a job, and guarantees. Once you start falling, everything gets harder. You lose your job, then your place. You don't sleep well, you stop looking presentable, and nobody wants to hire you anymore. You miss appointments, you lose your papers, and one day people walk right past you without even looking." Aldric stared at the piece of bread in his hand.

In his world, a landless peasant could join a guild, enlist in an army, or place himself under the protection of a lord. The system was often cruel, but everyone belonged somewhere—a household, a village, or a clan. The idea that a man could live among millions of others while belonging to no one struck him as stranger than the metal towers or the machines capable of carrying crowds.

"Did you fight in a war?" he asked, pointing to a scar on Michel's hand.

"No. Construction site. A metal plate wasn't secured properly."

"Were you a blacksmith?"

"Construction worker."

"You built the homes of this city."

"Some of them."

"And now you own none of them." Michel shrugged, but the movement seemed heavy.

"That's just how it is." Aldric clenched his jaw. The words reminded him of the excuses nobles gave whenever a village was sacrificed to slow an advancing army. That's just how it is. As though injustice became acceptable the moment people stopped looking at it. He held out the rest of his smoked meat to Michel.

"Keep this for tomorrow."

"What about you?"

"I've survived worse than hunger."

"Yeah. I don't doubt that." Michel accepted the meat and carefully wrapped it back in the cloth. Then he rummaged through his cart and pulled out a second blanket. The fabric was worn and covered with countless repairs, but it was clean.

"Take it."

"You need it."

"I've got another one."

"You're lying." Michel sighed.

"You're going to freeze under that scrap of a cape."

"My endurance protects me from the cold."

"Your what?"

"Never mind." Michel tossed him the blanket. Aldric caught it before it could touch the grass.

"You gave me food. I'm lending you this for the night."

"In that case, I accept." Aldric laid the blanket across his legs. The warmth trapped within its fibers slowly spread through his armor.

"If you want to survive here," Michel continued, "you're going to need more than a sword and stories about demon kings."

"What do I need?"

"Money." Aldric touched the pouch at his belt.

"I have money."

"Not gold from your imaginary kingdom. Euros. Without euros, you can't eat, rent a room, ride the metro, or buy clothes. Sometimes you even have to pay to use the bathroom."

"Your city imposes a tax for attending to one's natural needs?"

"Welcome to Paris." △ MAIN QUEST UPDATED △ Acquire Money Current Funds: 0 EUR Objective Obtain Legal Currency Reward: 300 XP Aldric stared at the window. At last, the system had given him a clear direction. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, and a weary smile appeared on his face.

"You were right."

"About what?"

"I need money." Michel lay down on his bench and pulled the blanket up to his chest.

"Just try not to rob anybody." The city lights danced between the branches while the quest window continued to hover before him.