Alwyna was busy looking at the small notice board in the inn near the reception desk.

There were all sorts of parchments, posters and flyers posted on it, ranging from information, news and wanted posters. She eyed them in a nonchalant way as Azlan was busy talking with the girl sitting at the reception.

It appeared that he was extending his stay in the inn by another night, he paid 20 silver coins, emptying his pouch; and with that he was all out of coin.

Azlan, done with the payment, glanced at Alwyna who was busy gazing at one particular parchment posted on the board. She noticed him looking at her and turned towards him.

“Ah- there was this interesting tidbit of news”, she added. “Apparently a prince from an independent small kingdom is marrying with a commoner, quite the drama it seems”.

“We should get going”, he replied and waited for her to come closer and they walked out of the inn.

-----------------------------------------

Mountalian seasons were heavily dependent on the regions, the far north of Nortaliya always consisted of snowcapped mountains regardless of the month. In contrast, the south of Soutaliya was somewhat more humid due to being near to Delenwell. Among all the other regions, Eastaliya came closest to a spring.

Entradel itself had a long winter that stayed from the month of Octo to Markham. At the end of Markham, most of the snow melted and as Aprilla dawned, it brought spring with it.

In the streets, a pleasant gust of wind was roaming about, lifting and scattering the remains of last night’s celebration. The breeze passed by their ears, creating a distinct sound of tamed roaring.

The morning view of Entradel was quite the contrast from its night life. People were leaving for work, ranging from mere lumberjacks to merchants and traders. The merriment from last night had vanished, as if it never existed, if not for the daily wage workers cleaning the streets. The celebrations had continued into late night and people had left all sort of trash laying there.

Otherwise, the action of disposing garbage in the streets had repercussions, but on some scant days, there were no rules and regulations against that act. And people took advantage of that fact wholeheartedly.

In hindsight it was just harmless, but what if laws against grave acts were abolished? Would man remain the same, or perchance he would return to his base instincts?

“Different from last night isn’t it?” she remarked as they passed by.

“It is”, he observed the workers swiping the cobblestone streets with brooms.

“Almost seems like a different town”, she continued. “It is apparently a well-known saying here”.

“What is?” He was looking around for a proper blacksmithing or weapon shop, which could repair his gauntlets.

“That there is a time for everything, a time to work, a time to make merry and eventually, a time for death”, she elaborated.

Sounded rather macabre.

Azlan glimpsed at her, she was wearing black trousers, knee high brown boots and a long Eastalian shirt that reached to her knees. Quite similar to the clothing he himself was wearing, except, of course the shirt.

However, the only thing of interest to him was that he noticed she wasn’t carrying her sword today.

“You’re not carrying your sword today?” his eyes darted to her side, now empty.

“Well, today I’m only out for shopping”, she crossed her arms. “I don’t have a use for that thing, so why carry it? It’s only proper, don’t you think”.

That was certainly one way of thinking.

“What are you shopping for? Armor or weapons?” he motioned towards his own belongings.

Instead of a response, she stared expressionlessly at him.

“Beowulf, correct me if I’m wrong, but do you think when someone goes shopping in a new town they buy weapons or armor?” she asked incredulously.

“You’re not?” he asked as if he had made a mistake.

“I’m not”, she sighed. “I’m shopping for clothes”.

“But you’re already wearing clothes, and they seem quite new”, he inspected her.

“Don’t tell me you only own the clothes you’re wearing right now?” she questioned with a tinge of surprise.

“Why would I need another set of clothes? I just buy new ones and throw out the old” he answered honestly.

“Hmm, I mean you’re not wrong, that seems plausible”, she agreed to some degree. “You don’t need clothes for the future, because you’re not sure that whether you’ll even live for that long or not”.

He nodded, it was a common wendigo-like way of thinking.

They never were sure of the future, wandering land to land, slaying monstrosities for a small sum of coin and death usually came unexpectedly at the side of a road.

Indeed, a very evanescent way of life.

A gust of wind came, swaying the trees and blowing the budding leaves all over the street, some daily wage workers looked at the rather tragic scene dejectedly, as their hard work was brought to naught, while some cursed verbally at their predicament.

“I understand that, but Beowulf... Don’t you think having hope that you will survive despite living such an ephemeral life is the superior ideology?”

“I may survive either ways, what is the difference?”

She pondered for an instance and then spoke:

“What is better? To live to fight another day? Or to survive so that you may live another day?”

Azlan thought about her statement for a brief while.

And he couldn’t differentiate between the two.

One idea was more buoyant while the other was somewhat pragmatic.

But in the end, they were mere ideologies.

And ideologies are nothing in the face of unforgiving harsh reality. Regardless of what they believed in, reality would deliver people of both doctrines to the same end.

Beowulf reached a conclusion.

“Aren’t they the same thing?” he came to a halt as he gazed at a shop’s sign post. It seemed to be weapon and armor related.

She didn’t answer, instead there was a faint smile on her face. The same genuine smile she maintained at most times.

“Shall we enter?” she proposed.

He nodded and opened the doors, and they went inside.

---------------------------------------