The city was extremely lively, there were never that many people out in the streets in my village and I can't imagine how many were inside the buildings but I wasn't directly interested in the people, just the sheer numbers. 

First I needed somewhere I could sell the valuables, I had to get a starting capital. I think I could sell them at a smith or a jeweler somewhere, but I don't know where any are. I walked up to what I thought was a tavern, I asked a young man who was sitting on the outside where the closest smith was. He was drunk, but I could decipher the direction he was trying to give me, it was very close to where we were already standing, so I made my way there. I wondered if it was normal in the city that people were already drunk that early in the morning, maybe he was still drunk from yesterdays' night?

I entered the smiths, compared to the outside it was hot. There was a small, burly, heavily bearded man in a leather apron behind the counter, who I assumed was the smith. He was a clear opposite to my father, who was slim, tallish, and cleanly shaven. Now that I think about it, I didn't know why he bothered to shave that often, being a farmer wasn't something that required to be shaved.

The smith hasn't noticed me yet. I took the ring and necklace out of my bag and put them on the counter. The clinking sound startled him. 

"Ah! Valued customer, what can I do for you today?" he said in a cheerful tone. 

"I want to sell these." He looked at the jewelry, "can I?" he pointed at them. 

"Of course."

He held the ring and the necklace in his hands and examined them. 

He frowned, "I'm sorry, but I can only give you thirty-five Iz for these."

"Thirty-five! You cannot be serious!" 

I slammed my hands down at the table while furiously yelling at the man. Out of the furnace burst a surge of fire. I couldn't help but wince back, fearing that it would burn me. 

"Control your flames, Smith," I said in a rude and angered tone, "these are at least worth sixty."

"Sorry, I can't give you any more than that," he tried to explain. 

"Oh yeah? Then I will just go to another smith," I said arrogantly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why is that?"

"Do you really have to ask? Look at yourself, look how filthy you are. You most likely stole these. Any other smith would grab you by the scruff of the neck and take you to the guard to report you. But I'm here to help you," he smirked.

"Buying these is a risk for me too, you know. If someone found out that I bought stolen goods I could lose my shop."

I didn't want to admit it but he was right. If I just didn't look this messy but I needed more than just thirty-five Iz, it just wasn't enough to get by. I needed more but how am I going to squeeze out some more money from this rat? The only thing I had except for food was the dagger. 

"The dagger," I thought. 

I had to, with only thirty-five I won't survive another month. I'm sorry mom and dad but I didn't get this far just do die of hunger. I pulled it out of my bag and lay it on the counter. 

"Can this get me another twenty-five? And I can guarantee that it is my property." 

He took it and drew back the sheath. 

"It's really nice except for the dull blade and the dirt." 

He looked at it intensely.

"You got a deal," he handed me a small pouch, "you can keep the pouch, as a token." 

I snatched it from the table and left the building slamming the door behind me, swearing aloud when I was outside.

Now I needed to find a place to stay for a while and the only choice I seem to have was an inn. I didn't want to live in a rundown dump where I would get diseases when sleeping on the beds. So the fee would be higher but worth it. After looking for an inn that was at least a bit reputable I found one near the edge of town. 

'The Foamy Plate', great name and it was nice looking inside and out. It had to be obscure, there wasn't much noise around and when I entered there weren't many people sitting by the tables to eat, even at the time people usually had breakfast. "Looks like this establishment doesn't have many patrons," I thought to myself.

I went to the counter where the innkeeper was standing, which I saw was also a bar. 

She greeted me with a squeaky voice, "Welcome, what can I do for you, Sir?" 

"How much does it cost to rent a room here for two weeks"

"That would be fifty Iz." 

I can't afford that. 

"Twenty-five for one then, I assume?" 

"Aye. Would you like to?" "Of course."

I handed her the money, departing from such a large amount of money so quickly felt unpleasant. My face twitched ever so slightly when she took it over the counter.

"You'll find your room up the stairs, first one to the right," she leaned over handed me the key to my room, and pointed at the stairs. 

"Thank you, but could you tell me where a bathhouse is? You can clearly see that my appearance isn't the finest, and I don't want to dirty the bed first thing I do." 

She turned around and pointed at a map that was behind her, she guided her finger through the buildings drawn on it to the next place I could clean myself while loudly explaining direction. 

Before I left I put the sack I was carrying with me in my room then locked the door.

Entering the bathhouse cost a small fee. I could also wash my clothes there. There were many more people than I thought would be here at this time, everyone was talking. I couldn't help but overhear some conversations, about small things, inconsequential things, about family relations and people catching up. After looking at the reflection in the water, I was surprised. My hair was much brighter than I expected. I had blond hair but now it was almost white. I touched my face. My eyes were different too. They were deep blue and they had a richness to them, was this because of the incident in the forest? While scrubbing the dirt off myself in a tub, I looked over my body, it seemed that I had lost some of the tan that I had gotten from the sun and was just a bit paler than before. It looked that these were the only changes, hopefully, this was really all there was to it.

After cleaning up I had free time but I was still exhausted. Sleeping this morning didn't give me any rest at all. I didn't want to go exploring the city I wanted to go back to the inn and sleep some more. On the way there I heard someone sing, actually, it was more like someone tuning his voice. I looked in the direction of the singing, there was already a crowd of people forming around. Seems a poet of some sort was starting a song right now. He had a lute and strummed it several times then finally began.

 Oh hear the tale of our creators

 I'm singing a song of those who made us

 -

 When once long ago the lord and his kin

 -

 Gave the world the features it has today

 But one of them took us and we were prey

 -

 Corruption sprang from the forces within

 -

 ...

This 'so-called' poet couldn't carry a tune to save his life, and the crowd surrounding realized that too and started booing him already. He couldn't squeeze out another verse because some of the ruder folk surrounding him started throwing things. I knew the poem, my father used to hum the melody from time to time. It was a fun little story about how the gods created the world as we knew it today. I left after seeing the poet unsuccessfully dodge a half-eaten apple, it hit him right at the side of his head.

I went back to my room, even though it was small and just has a table, chair, and a bed it was cozy, in a way. Lying on the bed I almost immediately fell asleep. It was a quiet kind of sleep, that without dreams, without any noise. But still, after sleeping I didn't feel revitalized. My mouth was dry and to my disappointment, I found out that I didn't have any water left. It looked like I had to spend more money today. I went down to the innkeeper and bought some more water from her. I sat into a chair next to the fireplace and bathed in the heat it radiated.

I looked directly into the fire while drinking, the flames reflecting in my eyes. It wasn't just the soldiers that changed my life but it did too. Fire, only if you are a magician you could control it but for most people, it takes control of them. Even if you survive being burned you most likely will fear it all your life. I hated the sight of it too. The village, my dream, and at the Smith where it almost burned me. Will it burn this little inn to the ground too someday? I held my hand closer to the flames. While admiring it, I whispered to it, "come on little flame, won't you take me with you?" 

It seemed to follow my call, jumping into the palm of my hand. My first instinct was to cringe away, flinch back my arm, but I didn't feel any pain. It didn't hurt me, but it was alive. Before I could do anything else but look at it, the innkeeper bound a wet cloth around my hand. 

She screamed at me in a concerned tone, "what are you doing, by the gods! Are you hurt?" 

"No," I said in a very clear tone. 

"You could have burned the whole building down! Did your parents not teach you not to play with fire?" 

She angrily muttered more things under her breath. I didn't listen. I looked at the fire in a blank expression, unbound the cloth from my hand and placed it on a table then went back to my room. 

I knew exactly what I was going to do the next morning.