The sun was dipping lower into the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the calm waters of the Tempestuous Sea as the last bits of fighting died down. The pirates were dead, their blood mingling with the salt of the sea, staining the deck in thick crimson streaks. The civilians huddled together, still shaken but alive.

  After the barbarians moved to clean up the bodies, I called for them to gather before me. The wind breezed past, ruffling my hair as I observed the barbarians.

  “Search the ship,” I ordered, nodding toward the pirate vessel we stood on. “Find the stuff they’ve taken and return it to the merchants.”

  The barbarians glanced at one another, hesitant. Grumbles spread through the group as a few of them eyed me with displeasure. One of the bigger guys, Jorgal, stepped forward, a scowl plastered across his face. “Why we return it?” he growled. “Loot is loot. We won fair and square, didn’t we? We keep it!”

  “Y-yeah!” a few cheered along.

  Jorgan found confidence from that. “Right right! You lucky Thorvyn you become strong, but it seems you still dumb as a rock!”

  I sighed, feeling the familiar throb of annoyance creeping in. Slowly stepping forward, my fist collided with his jaw before Jorgal could even react. The air exploded as the impact echoed across the deck, and the big man crumpled to the floor like a sack of stones. The other barbarians stiffened, not daring to move.

  "B-but the loot’s right here…" one of the more stupid ones said, a girl, and before I could deal with him, Ragna smacked her on the back of the head, telling her to shut up.

  “You win a fight,” I said, looking down at Jorgal’s groaning form, “you keep the spoils. But these people,” I gestured toward the civilians, “were already robbed before we got here. If we take what was stolen from them, that doesn’t make us any better than the scum we just killed, does it? The chieftain didn’t send us to become pirates.”

  Justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger. At least that's what Thrasymachus claimed. But I disagree. Justice means more than just taking what you can.

  The barbarians murmured among themselves, some displeased, but some pondering my words. But none of them dared to challenge me after that display. Not if they wanted to keep their jaws intact.

  “But, fine!” I continued, deciding to soften the blow, “Whatever else we find from the ship—things they looted from before today—that’s ours. We’ll split it evenly. Good?”

  That satisfied them. I saw the glint of greed in their eyes as they began moving again, more eager this time.

  Barbarians loved two things: fighting and the rewards that came after it. And as long as they got their share, they wouldn’t question much. I didn’t see any problem with that. I wasn’t planning to lead them after leaving the sea, so it wasn’t my problem.

  For the next half an hour, as they scoured the ship, I leaned against the railing, my thoughts wandering.

  There would be coins among the loot. Coins were something the barbarians weren’t familiar with. Coins didn’t mean much to us back on the island. Sometimes the Chieftain dealt with the rare merchant ships that came near our shores, trading furs and meat for strange trinkets, but none of the barbarians really understood the value of these shiny metal pieces. Including myself.

  This world’s economy was largely a mystery to me.

  Once the loot was gathered, I told the barbarians to put the stuff that was looted from the merchants on one side and loot that would soon be ours to another. I called the barbarians together on the deck. They stood in front of me, eager, their hands itching for whatever treasures they might get. In front of me, a whole ton of gold, silver, jewelry, coins, and other things rested. I looked down at it, and it seemed my lack of interest in material wealth remained the same even in this world.

  I hummed and straightened up as I addressed them. “We can’t divide the loot yet. Because we don’t know the value of these things. Especially the coins.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Coins,” I said, crouching down and holding up a handful of the gold and silver pieces. “From what I’ve learned from the shaman’s books, humans from the continent use these to trade, buy food, and other things. Some of you may have seen it before when the Chieftain dealt with the merchants who came near our island, but we don’t know the value of it. So we can’t divide it yet.”

  A few of them nodded, though as I had guessed, most were just as clueless as I was. Ragna picked up a gold coin, staring at it suspiciously, then bit it cautiously. “Is it food?”

  “...It’s not, Ragna. New rule: can you guys stop putting random things in your mouth?! I know our bodies are strong, but let’s not be reckless! Anyway…” I sighed, glancing over to the freed civilians next. “Enough of that. I doubt that any among our barbaric group fully understand how coins work. Any of you gentlemen and women willing to explain how the currency works?”

  The merchants exchanged uneasy glances, clearly wary of us. I didn’t blame them. We’d just slaughtered an entire ship of pirates right in front of them, and while it was to save them, we still looked like barbarians. They couldn’t trust us to behave like civilized folks.

  “Uh, sir,” finally, a rotund man with a balding head and a nervous smile raised his hand. “I… I can explain,” he stammered. I nodded, and he stepped forward. “I’m the captain of this merchant ship, actually. My name is Borric, of the Seagard Port.”

  Ragna crossed her arms, eyeing him with curiosity. “What the hell is Seagard Port?”

  Borric blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Uh… a port city, of course?”

  I shook my head, cutting in. “We’re barbarians, and I’m the only one who’s barely well-spoken,” I explained, voice flat. “You’re gonna have to explain it better than that.”

  “Ah, right,” Borric cleared his throat, clearly flustered. I watched him closely. He must have realized we were dumb as tree stumps. But I didn’t want him to think we were all useless, I kept my gaze sharp. He straightened up, trying to regain some composure. “Well, Seagard Port is a city in the Thalassaria Kingdom, a city under Viscount Vale. It’s not a massive city, but it’s important for trade. My merchant group, the Azure Armada, was on its way back from a trade in the Velandria Kingdom when we had this unlucky encounter… I thank you for helping us!”

  Thorvyn’s memories gave me barely any context of the names he mentioned. I needed more. “Where’s the Ethenia Empire?” I asked, stroking my chin.

  Borric hesitated, looking around before answering. “Haha, that’s a faraway name you’ve mentioned… It’s on the other side of the continent,” he explained, his voice growing a bit more confident. “Thalassaria is in the east, while Ethenia is far to the west. It’s a long journey from here, my friend.”

  I clicked my tongue in annoyance. So I’ll have to travel long, huh? I muttered under my breath, feeling the knowledge settle on me as my thoughts swirled. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I needed to know more about this currency system, and Borric seemed more than willing to help.

  “Alright, let’s talk about the stuff I called you for. Explain the Thalassaria Kingdom’s currency to us,” I commanded, my gaze locking on him.

  Borric nodded, swallowing hard. “Of course.”

  The sun set on the horizon, and the light faded with his explanations. I listened, as did the other barbarians, while I wondered about my next course of action that needed to be taken after landing on this Seagard Port.

  As Borric spoke, I found myself picturing Seagard Port—a city. A real city. Not just huts and wooden halls built around roaring bonfires, but towering stone buildings, bustling markets, and streets filled with people who didn’t solve disputes by cracking each other’s skulls…

  Would it be grand? Or just another kind of jungle—only with rules written in ink instead of blood?

  Thalassaria, Viscounts, Ethenia across the continent… new things were coming into my life. I was a barbarian thrown into another new world so different from the two I was used to. And I couldn’t wait to see it.

  ****

  The gangplank groaned beneath my boots as I stepped off the ship, Ragna moving at my side. Her eyes were bulging out as she took in the scene ahead. I couldn’t blame her. The salty air clawed at our skin, mingling with the thick stench of fish and sweat from dockworkers straining under their loads.

  Oh, and we were allowed tribal boots when we left for the pilgrimage, which was fantastic.

  Seagard wasn’t just a patchwork of stone and mortar; it was a living, breathing chaos of towering spires, narrow alleys, and peeling facades in shades of white and blue that had long surrendered to the salt and wind.

  It was mesmerizing in its unruly glory. The entire port thrummed with life—dockhands creaking as they heaved crates, merchants shouting their prices over the noise, seagulls shrieking as if they commanded the world. The buildings stretched up into the sky, carved from weathered stone with sharp angles and defiant arches that looked straight out of an old, stubborn era.

  Late Medieval, if I had to guess.

  And here I feared that there was no world outside that barbarian island. I had somewhat come to like it in the month I spent, but there was nothing like the smell of civilization. I breathed in heavily, held it for a moment, and let it out. “Hah…”

  This sight here was proof that human civilization wasn’t just surviving in this foreign world, it was thriving.

  Man is by nature a social animal, as Aristotle once said. Looking at this city, I was starkly reminded that even in a world of monsters, humans found ways to build something greater than themselves.

  Civilization. Real, sprawling human life. Oh, how I’d missed it. I let out a low whistle, the sound lost in the noise around me. I had lived up to my goal. I had left the damned island behind, and now, for the first time in what felt like ages, I saw actual, civilized humans around me. I laughed.

  “What a place, Throvyn,” Ragna said from beside me, pointing at the large castle perched atop a hill. “How they build something like that?! Human magic is real!”

  My laughter grew louder. She was so dumb that it was cute. "Yes, that’s right, Ragna. That extraordinary magic is called 'architecture.' Very powerful stuff. Almost as impressive as indoor plumbing, which I pray to all gods they have here."

  “Big words again?”

  Eyes followed us as we now stood on solid ground. A mix of awe and unease lingered on those gazes that didn’t bother to hide themselves. Eyes scanning for threats, for anything that might justify the shift in the air. I had expected that much. As happy as I was to see civilization, I hadn’t forgotten how I looked now. I was a barbarian.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Civilians in threadbare tunics and scarves backed away, eyes darting nervously between our weapons and our faces. The sudden hush that fell over the dock wasn’t odd. They were smart to be alerted by a group of barbaric warriors carrying heavy weapons.

  “Thorvyn, they’re staring,” Ragna muttered beside me, a grin playing on her lips. I couldn’t tell if she was happy seeing people look at her or if she saw the worry in their gazes and took that as a triumph. She was weird in the way that both of them could be true.

  “Let them,” I said. The barbarians behind us disembarked with wide, toothy grins, necks craned to take in the new sights. One would think they’d never seen civilization before. And one would be correct to think that.

  “Captain Thorvyn!”

  I turned at the familiar voice, finding Borric waddling toward me, having gotten off from his own ship that was docked right beside ours. Sweat trickled down his ruddy face. He stopped a foot short, breathless, clutching at the hem of his tunic. His eyes were still grateful, almost reverent.

  “Mister Borric,” I greeted him. “I’m not a captain anymore, just Thorvyn will do.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, my friend,” he said, voice thick with relief. “If it weren’t for you, the Azure Armada would be nothing but bones on the seafloor. Please find me in our office in the western part of the city, in case you need anything during your stay here. I’ll be glad to help!”

  “Thank you,” I nodded, accepting the praise without any more words. He was a good man, but I’d heard enough gratitude from him, and it had grown boring.

  When I didn’t say anything else, Borric hesitated. His eyes darted around as if checking for eavesdroppers before he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The cargo we carried is worth more than gold, my friend. Had the pirates taken it, Thalassaria itself might have fallen.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Just what was he carrying that an entire nation might fall if it got stolen? Unwise to tell that to a barbarian, even if I’d maintained a very respectable impression with him in the week we traveled together. Then again, maybe precisely because I’m a barbarian did he find the courage to say it?

  Regardless, he realized his blunder immediately as he straightened up, eyes flickering with a sudden, nervous awareness. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much.” He fumbled with his tunic, gave me a stiff nod, and hurried off into the crowd.

  Interesting.

  It seemed this country was going through something intense. I have to look into it. Does this place have something like an Information Guild?

  I shook it off. That was a riddle for another day. For now, I had bigger fish to fry. All the barbarians were chatting, pointing at things, and asking each other questions. I couldn’t endure babysitting them any longer.

  “Guys guys,” I clapped my hands together, the sharp sound slicing through the dock noise and grabbing my crew’s attention. The barbarians, who’d started to wander off, froze, heads snapping back to me. “Listen up!” I barked. Silence fell, save for the creak of the ships and the calls of dockworkers too busy to care. “This is where we separate.”

  Murmurs broke out immediately. Haldrek, always the loudest when he shouldn’t be, pushed to the front, eyes narrowed. “Separate? We just land here, Thorvyn! What the rush?”

  “Rush is the name of the game, Haldrek,” I said, my tone unyielding. “We didn’t sail across half the sea to play tourists. We’re here for the pilgrimage. That starts now. The Chieftain will be ashamed to see us stick to a large group!”

  The murmurs didn’t stop, but they grew softer, more thoughtful. Ketta stepped forward, small but fierce, arms crossed tight over her chest. “And how we survive? Food, shelter? Fat merchant say everything so so hard here! This not home.”

  “No, it ain’t,” I agreed. “Which is why you’ll find work. Jobs. Maybe trade, do what you have to. But don’t cause trouble unless you want the city guard on your necks. We fight when we need to, not for fun.”

  It was Jarl who thought he had to make a comment here. "What’s this ‘job’ you talk about? Just fight and take what we need!"

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We're trying not to get thrown in a prison, Jarl. We're not on the island anymore."

  In my past life, I'd had managers with better impulse control than these people. And that's saying something.

  Ragna snickered from beside us. "Maybe we leave Jarl. See how long he live. I think he punch wrong person soon.”

  Smart girl. Those few books I forced her to read were helping. A rough chuckle rippled through the group. Ragna rolled her eyes while Jarl groaned. I caught the glint of approval in most of the others about my words, so they weren’t a total waste.

  “Even barbarians can play it smart,” Ragna muttered, low enough that only I could hear. Hearing her voice and pronunciation against the other barbarians, I realized how much her speech had improved. All thanks to me, of course.

  “Small groups,” I continued, making sure to catch Jarl’s eye when he looked like he’d question it. “Three, four at most. I’ll just be taking one with me, though. Any bigger and you’ll stand out. But don’t go alone. We’re strong, but don’t be stupid.”

  Ragna froze beside me when I said I’d only be taking one. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Beric thumped the hilt of his warhammer on the ground, a grin splitting his face. “For the pilgrimage!” he shouted, voice booming.

  “For the pilgrimage!” The others echoed, the call carrying down the dock, turning heads.

  I clapped my hands again, sending them off with a sharp nod. “Go. Split up, blend in, and don’t cause trouble.”

  They moved, splitting off into groups, excitement sparking in their eyes. I grinned wide. Ah, how peaceful it felt having them get off my shoulders… I was not responsible for these stupid punks anymore. Ragna lingered at my side, watching them scatter like wolves released into new hunting grounds. I felt her eyes shift to me, her gaze hiding something. I raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Let’s grab some food,” I said, breaking the silence.

  Her smile was small, almost forced. “Lead the way, Thorvyn.”

  There was something behind her eyes, something that she didn’t want to share yet. I decided to give her time and filed it away for later. The city was ours to explore, and whatever storm Ragna was brewing would hopefully be finished by the time this day ended.

  ****

  The cobblestone streets of Seagard Port stretched out before us, winding through clusters of market stalls, shops, and the occasional shaded alleyway. The city was alive, bursting with the sounds of haggling merchants, squeaking carts, and the chatter of townsfolk going about their day.

  The order, the structure… I had spent a month learning to love chaos, but now I was back in a world where words and gold ruled over strength. It was strange. Comforting, but strange.

  Ragna walked beside me, her eyes darting from one curious sight to the next, a mix of wonder and confusion on her face. “What’s that smell?” she asked, pointing to a stall where a plump man in a stained apron was turning skewers of spiced meat over an open flame.

  “Probably some kind of food,” I said.

  “You don’t say,” she shot me a look, and I laughed. She’s learning sarcasm?

  “I think it’s called kebab?” I said, and she eyed the meat. I’d smelled meat cooked a hundred ways back on the islands, but this was different. It smelled sharp and tangy, almost sweet. Some kind of animal that wasn’t common to the Volcanic Island?

  “Let’s try it,” she said, her eyes lighting up with that familiar barbarian curiosity.

  “Later,” I said. “It won’t fill our belly. We’re gonna grab a bigger meal instead.”

  She scowled at me, opening her mouth to protest. That was when a boy, no older than eight, ran up to Ragna holding a bunch of wilting wildflowers. We looked at him and observed his eyes grow wide with awe, gaze lingering on her muscles as he craned his neck to look at her. “Flowers, miss?” he asked, his voice a nervous squeak.

  Ragna stared at him, unblinking. Then, a grin cracked her serious expression, and she took the bunch from the boy. “Thank you, little one.” She ruffled his hair with a hand that could crush a skull, but he beamed. Receiving his pay, two coppers, he darted off to join a group of children who watched from a safe distance.

  It seemed the group had bullied him into this. Kids.

  “Didn’t take you for a flower girl,” I said, giving her a sidelong look.

  She cleared her throat, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “I’m not flower girl. Kid just... small. Cute. Me could not say no.”

  “Definitely,” I said with a smirk.

  She scowled, and I laughed as we moved on, weaving between merchants and shouting the prices of their goods. “Oh look, more flowers,” I nudged at her teasingly when a flower shop caught my eye. She grumbled but still looked at the place. Its window was filled with blooms in every color, petals open like yawning mouths. An old woman sat inside, arranging a bouquet with hands as gnarled as the roots of an ancient tree.

  She glanced up, eyes narrowing when she caught sight of us, then went back to her work with a huff. The people here were curious, yes, but wary too. A port town saw all kinds, but not many like us. Barbarians wearing leather skin for clothes.

  After what felt like hours of walking and a thousand questions from Ragna—some I answered, some I had to ask the shopkeepers for—we reached an inn. It had a sign that was faded but legible, swung above the door: The Rusty Anchor.

  “Rusty it sure is,” I said. The place looked as worn as the sea-sprayed buildings around it, but it was busy, which was a good sign.

  I pushed open the door, the low hum of conversation inside quieting the moment we stepped in. People with weapons beside them, adventurers and mercenaries if I had to guess, filled the tables, their eyes sliding to us.

  A cluster of drunken sailors at a nearby table leaned toward each other, not noticing us, but their whispers were loud enough to catch my ear. "...the Seventh arrived in Veridian last week. That makes three confirmed sightings this season."

  "Quiet, you fool. We don't speak of the Numbered."

  "The star-patterns don't lie. When all Twelve gather, the Cycle begins anew."

  “Ugh, forget that. Didn’t you see those ships earlier? I hear it's from the Volcanic Islands,” a new hushed conversation started at the next table.

  “A ship from the Volcanic Islands, you say? Bloody savages, those. Heard they roast folks alive and eat ’em.”

  Another sailor laughed nervously, noticing us and glancing our way. The speakers finally noticed me and fell silent, their expressions hardening. “Best we finish quick, lads. I recall we got stuff to do…”

  The Volcanic Islands. It seemed our home had a reputation here. But when our eyes met, most people were quick to look away. It was funny. One man’s drink paused halfway to his lips, a bead of ale slipping down his chin.

  Not all looked away, though. My gaze wandered through the inn and caught the eye of a weathered mercenary across the room. He quickly looked away, his jaw tensing, but not before his hand subtly shifted to the hilt of his sword. He wasn't looking for a confrontation—but he was prepared for one.

  Ragna, incredibly tall and broad-shouldered for a woman, was intimidating enough on her own. Paired with me, who towered over her too? We might as well have been dragons walking into a chicken coop.

  The inn workers had stopped in the middle of their work but quickly regained their senses. “W-welcome, please take a seat!” The innkeeper behind the counter shouted a greeting, and we nodded.

  We found a table near the back, away from the prying eyes. The chair groaned under Ragna’s weight as she sat, and I smiled at the nervous glance the innkeeper shot our way. A young, round boy with a mop of hair ran over, his face pale as he took in our size.

  “W-what’ll it be?” he stammered.

  I leaned back, scanning the chalkboard menu propped against the far wall. “What do you have?” I asked, keeping my voice steady but not unkind.

  He rattled off a list, eyes darting from me to Ragna. “Uh, stew of the day, spiced pork with bread, roast chicken with garlic, and… ale?”

  “Two of the stew and roast chicken,” I said, catching Ragna’s nod of agreement.

  The boy scampered off, and we settled into our seats. The tension in the room slowly faded as the other patrons realized we weren’t there to pick a fight. The food arrived quickly: steaming bowls of thick stew and a hunk of bread each, followed by tasty chickens that made my mouth water.

  I dug in without hesitation, but Ragna paused, her eyes widening as she took her first bite. “By the Warrior Gods!” she exclaimed, louder than she intended. Heads turned again, but she didn’t care. “This is better than anything from the Volcanic Islands!”

  At the mention of our homeland, a few nearby patrons coughed, choking on their food. They exchanged glances, some choking on their drinks.

  The barkeep froze mid-pour, eyes darting over to us with obvious hesitation. But when he caught sight of the silver coins on our table, his expression eased into a wary but polite smile. Coins spoke louder than rumors, it seemed.

  We enjoyed our meal with pleasant hums and moans, the food wasn’t bad at all. While the customers still looked worried, the innkeeper didn’t. Someone who enjoyed the food so much would be less likely to cause trouble. Once we finished our meals, I tossed two silver coins onto the table. The payment was written on the chalkboard, but Borric’s explanation also fitted it. Two silver seemed perfect for what we had.

  I leaned back, letting my weight sink into the chair, and my eyes slipped shut for a moment of rest. The warmth of the food settled in my stomach, a rare comfort. I assumed Ragna wanted to do the same and take a rest; instead, she fidgeted around and spoke a minute after I had closed my eyes.

  “Um… Thorvyn?”

  Her voice pulled me from the edges of sleep. I didn’t open my eyes. “Hm?”

  “I…” She hesitated, and I could feel her eyes on me. “I think I’ll separate from you.”

  My eyes snapped open, and I frowned, turning to her. “Huh, why? What’s wrong? Did I do something that bothered you?” Did I tease her too much with the flower incident?

  “No, no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It not that. It just… I feel like me is being carried by you. There was a time when I stronger than you. Now, I not sure who'll win in a fight between us… That aside, you so smart now, you know so much about everything. I feel like I holding you back. I feel… useless. What the point of pilgrimage then?”

  Now, what’s she on about?

  We're Top 3 baby! And damn a crazy number of folks joined Pat. I guess a lot of people didn't know about the 30-day mode. Anyways, to read the next 18 chapters immediately, you can visit my Patreon!

  Link: