Bathed in Both Lights

The interior was mostly wood. Walls held shelves lined with glass ornaments and ceramics in varied colours, along with a few hanging plants, bringing life to the otherwise simple room.

The muffled scent of wax floated through the air, oozing from the lit candles. This establishment wasn’t using the same method of lighting as the guild.

The candles sat on top of a small metal plate with a holder, held in place by what appeared to be a metal spike in the centre.

As we entered, in front of us was the reception desk and a staircase going up, and to the right, an open frame leading into a dark room.

A young man waited at the reception desk, his head drooping over his hand, elbow on the table. Yawning, he quickly opened his eyes, hearing the door open.

With a drained smile, he gestured for us to approach as he bent down to get something from a drawer.

I slowly followed behind the guild receptionist to the counter. The young innkeeper took out a piece of paper, an ink bottle, and a brush and placed them on the desk as he sat up.

Plunging the quill in the ink, he asked the guild receptionist, “Ere~ tro u para~so zu sir, lena?” quickly glancing at me.

“Yes,” the guild receptionist proclaimed.

The innkeeper began writing something down.

“Sir tare~ e estig su Riges,” the guild receptionist continued as the young man stopped writing and raised his head to look at him.

“Ar gar savure~ pru harus sir jire~ rir to, vra felut ere~ Auderilut. Ver gokare~ lhan ta sir gar atare~ e versar su varsi sufe hazlu er larime?” he ended in a pleading tone.

I couldn’t understand what the guild receptionist was asking the innkeeper, but it seemed to be something regarding my stay.

The young man paused, resting his head on his left hand as he gazed in my direction, his cheek pressed against his fist. His eyes drifted upward to the ceiling, his expression thoughtful.

After a few seconds, he picked up his brush and began writing. “Yes. Yes. Gokare~ er,” he answered with a smile.

“Thank you,” the guild receptionist replied while bowing.

I already knew that the word “henbo” meant “thank you”, so I repeated it as well. They both looked at me and giggled.

When the young man finished writing, he turned to the guild receptionist and informed, “Ere~ nu versat e aura~ er hazlu.”

The guild receptionist counted to five on his knuckles and made the same okay sign the other female guild receptionist had done when showing me the quests’ rewards. He most likely meant it cost five coins.

I had yet to discover this currency’s value and didn’t know for how many days I was paying, but since I was here, I couldn’t go back now.

Nervously taking the backpack off my back, the spear slipped through my trembling hands. A loud thunk, followed by uneven knocks, echoed as the weapon wobbled on the floor.

I quickly picked it up and bowed to apologise. The young man gently shook his head with a soft smile, forgiving me with his hand.

I set the bag on the counter and leaned the spear against it. I took a copper coin from the Old Man’s sack and held it up for the guild receptionist.

He shook his head and moved his hand up and down, as if to tell me it was too much.

Unsure of which coin would be less valuable, I rummaged through the sack and picked one of the dull, silvery coins. When I showed it to him, he nodded.

The duller ones were worth less than the copper coins, while the brighter silvery ones, I recalled having some, were probably worth more than the other two.

I grabbed another four coins and handed them to the innkeeper.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly and taking the coins from my hand.

As he bent down to store the money, the guild receptionist asked, “Ar gokare~ sufir?” For which the young man faintly answered, “yes”.

He grabbed the brush the innkeeper was previously using and gestured for me to come closer as I closed my bag.

He began drawing eight empty squares next to each other, pointing at the first one on the left and colouring it in. He looked at me and repeatedly pointed at the floor while saying, “No,” then underlined the other seven squares and repeated the word “yes”.

I paused, glaring at the drawing for a few seconds. If I were to assume he was talking about time, the squares representing each day, the first coloured one would supposedly be today, and the other seven would represent next week.

It seemed reasonable enough. I wasn’t sure if time here was divided into weeks, with seven days each like in my old world, but the Old Man had gone to the graveyard every Thursday in Tristte. Maybe time worked the same way here, too.

However, it felt strange. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.

Was I missing something? It didn’t seem like it. It was most likely just luck the two systems worked the same way.

That being said, perhaps the guild receptionist was telling me that what I paid was for the following week rather than this one. The payment needed to be made weekly.

My conclusion felt too rushed. Nevertheless, it seemed to make at least a bit of sense.

“Yes,” I hesitantly told the guild receptionist while nodding.

He smiled.

Sitting back up, the young man handed me a solid metal key. It felt cold in my hand.

The key had large key wards at the end that split into two differently shaped pieces. The bow had curving motifs, reminiscent of the city’s street lamps. The shaft had three small characters carved on the side.

Was it the room number? It would make sense.

The young innkeeper got up, grabbing the candle by his side, as well as a new candle from a drawer. He then pointed upwards and gestured for me to follow him.

Before he could start walking, the guild receptionist handed him the brush and began walking towards the door.

“Thank you,” I exclaimed, bowing slightly to show my appreciation for his help.

Turning back, he bowed as well and continued walking.

“Tari lut…” I nervously said before realising it wasn’t the right one. “No. No. Tari… Tari cina~!” I corrected myself with an awkward smile.

“Tari cina~!” the guild receptionist replied, grinning, to both of us as he opened the door. The candles’ flames sharply flickered as the night’s chilly breeze seeped inside.

He waved goodbye with a smile before closing the door and vanishing into the darkness.

Turning back, I grabbed my things and began following him to the stairs. Holding the lit candle in front of him, we steadily climbed, the boards silent beneath our feet, lacking their usual shrieks.

Raising my head and looking through the hole in the middle of the spiralling staircase, the inn didn’t seem as small as I had imagined, without a doubt taller than the one in Mida.

When we reached the first floor, I turned my attention to the corridor. The lighting was dim. The only light source was a candle, almost totally melted, on top of a small table by the stairs.

There were six closed doors on each side and an open one at the end of the corridor. Small specks of light danced on the distant wall. There was another candle inside that open room.

The innkeeper continued going up. A subtle yawn reached my ears. His shadow, cast on the wall by the candlelight, rubbed its eyes as it softly slid up the stairs. He seemed exhausted.

I had no idea what time it was, but I had certainly arrived here at a late hour.

When we reached the second floor, he placed his candle on top of the table and blew out the one already there. Its fire turned to smoke and floated briefly before dissipating into the air.

Pulling a thin, spatula-like tool from the drawer beneath, he scraped the hardened wax from the plate, dropping the shards into the drawer beside him before slipping the tool back inside.

Taking the new candle and firmly mounting it on the spike, he used his own candle to light the new one.

He turned to me and smiled gently, his face lit by both candles. He began walking down the second-floor corridor until he reached the fourth door on the right.

“Fe ere~ su dra aru,” he said with a gentle voice and pointed at the door.

I assumed he was telling me it was my room.

Carved to the right side of the door were the same characters I saw engraved on the key. As I had assumed, it was the number of the room.

Sliding the key through the keyhole, it scraped and finally turned with a hollow clunk. I then twisted the curved handle and pushed the door open.

I could hardly see anything inside. I carefully stepped out of the way and let the innkeeper come in with the candle.

The room was small, smaller than the apartment I used to rent in Tokyo, but it had everything I needed.

A bed, atop a wooden frame, stood against the right-side corner of the room, facing the door. On the left side, there was a table with a small drawer, similar to the one by the stairs, a chair, and a new candle.

The front-wall window feebly cast the moonlight across the bed. A weaker scent of wax lingered in the air.

I couldn’t really describe why, but it felt soothing. The whole atmosphere calmed my mind. It finally felt like I had found somewhere I could forget about my worries and escape the suffocating presence of the outside world.

It felt mine, and only mine… a world I created for myself.

I faintly smiled.

I slowly approached the crossed window. It overlooked the main street we had taken to reach the inn. On the left, the moon slipped through the holes on the wooden shutter.

Hesitantly, I pulled the metal handle on the bottom. The window creaked as it rose, slotting stiffly into the centre of the cross.

The candlelight wavered under the cold gust of wind that wandered inside. I quickly closed the wooden shutters before shutting the window.

Turning to face the innkeeper, he pointed at the unlit candle on top of the table and gestured for me to follow him before resuming walking.

The candle holder also had a curved design, resembling the other metalwork I had seen so far in Riges. I quickly picked it up and followed behind him.

Approaching the table by the stairs once again, he pointed at the lit candle, as if telling me to use it to light mine when I needed to. I nervously complied and lit my candle as well.

He smiled at me.

We went back to the room, but before I could enter, he stopped me. He pointed at the open door at the end of the corridor and asserted, “Ere~ su aru e alir.”

Not understanding what he told me, I just thanked him for his help and nodded. I would need to check out that room tomorrow.

Smiling at me one last time, he tiredly murmured, “Tari cina~.”

“Tari cina~!” I replied, bowing.

His figure merged with the stairway light as he left, his shadow wobbling before vanishing from my sight.

Comforted by the warmth of the candle, I entered my room and closed and locked the door behind me, leaving the key in the keyhole.

I was alone once again, but it didn’t feel lonely at all.