Nocturne's Night

Chapter 8: Information Thief

Yura stretched as the morning sun filtered through the small window of his room. A long yawn escaped him as he muttered, "Nothing beats waking up with a hungry belly." His muscles still ached slightly from his journey, but the bed had been a welcome comfort after days of travel. Pulling on his boots, he made his way downstairs, eager to quell the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

The tavern, though quieter than the previous night, still bustled with morning activity. The scent of freshly baked bread, sizzling meat, and brewed ale filled the air, a hearty combination that reminded Yura of mornings back in simpler times. Several patrons sat at long wooden tables, eating their breakfast and exchanging stories of the day's upcoming work, local gossip, or concerns about the city's state. A few stragglers, no doubt remnants from the night before, were still slumped over the bar, snoring into their mugs.

The tavern keeper, a stout man with a broad grin, called out from behind the counter. "What'll you be havin', then?"

Yura approached, leaning on the bar. "A meat dish, with a drink to wash it down."

The man gave a nod and shouted an order to the kitchen before turning back to his duties. Yura took a seat at one of the long tables, observing the people around him. Though the morning crowd was calmer, there was still a sense of energy in the air—a city waking up, preparing for the day ahead.

A group of workers sat nearby, their dirt-stained clothes and calloused hands a testament to their labor. "The mines are getting rougher each day," one of them grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Heard the guild's calling for more help with the shipments."

Another man responded, shaking his head. "Bah, they can't pay me enough to crawl into those dark pits. Not after what I saw last week—giant spiders the size of dogs, just waiting in the shadows." Yura's ears perked up at the mention of the mines. This city was clearly built around more than just trade and taverns; there were deeper systems at play, economies driven by the dangerous work of its people.

Before he could think further, the tavern keeper approached with a steaming plate of food and a mug of ale. "Here ya go, lad. Meat's fresh off the grill, and the drink's from our finest barrel."

Yura glanced down at his meal—a hearty serving of seared cow meat, roasted potatoes, and vegetables. A familiar sight, though the vegetables were a mix of what he knew and things foreign to him. He took a bite, savoring the taste. "So, some things remain the same across worlds," he thought, chewing thoughtfully. "The meat here has a richness that's close to what I'm used to, but the flavors of those fruits I saw in the market... they must be native to this world. Variations, perhaps, but still something akin to home."

He washed down the meal with a gulp of ale, feeling its warmth settle in his chest. The tavern keeper watched him, a small smile on his face. "Thirty copper coins for the meal, good sir."

Yura gave a brief nod, reaching into his pocket and tapping into his subspace. Fishing out a single silver coin, he handed it to the tavern keeper, who swiftly counted out the change. The man fished through a pouch behind the counter, pulling out a handful of copper coins. "Here's your change—seventy copper coins."

Yura accepted the coins, sliding them into his hand, and tucked them into his subspace with a flick of his fingers. "Convenient," he thought, a small grin playing on his lips as he closed the rift. "No need to carry around a heavy pouch."