He left his accommodation when the sun was already high.

He made his way through a dingy corridor, descended the cracked stairs of the building, and didn't encounter anyone until he reached the ground floor.

At the gloomy entrance counter, the doorman and his assistant were there. They watched him guardedly as he approached.

He didn't blame them. He had awakened and terrified them and practically all the occupants on his floor that night.

The boss was tall and imposing, while the other was a bit stockier.

They had typical features of the local residents. Bald and hairless, cobalt-colored skin with ashy patches and scars and burns.

They were good people.

They had gone out of their way to help him a few hours earlier, calming down the irate mob of neighbors over the commotion.

Upon arrival, he exchanged pleasantries with the assistant as he prepared to pay the last month's rent.

The other one was staring at them.

The edge of his shirt sleeve was fastened with a couple of pins to the right shoulder, which held the empty sleeve.

"Take it!"

He turned to see the hand holding a brown bag halfway in the air.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's some powdered herb I bought from a nearby emporium that's always open."

"Ah. Thank you. Well, add it to the..."

"No need."

He examined him as well as he could, given the aftermath of the nightmare and fatigue. The man had a stern expression that concealed something else.

"I know what you saw last night," the boss said.

The room vibrated for a moment, and since he didn't respond, the boss continued.

"I lost my son during the war. I can only imagine what happened to you."

"The war... Yes..."

"Take it. The shop owner is a friend of mine. There are no problems."

He tried to politely decline the offer, but the other was insistent.

In the end, he left with the bag of herbs in his travel backpack.

It was a beautiful day.

The war, he thought.

He hadn't gone very far, in fact, even though things were a bit more complicated for him.

Definitely more complicated.

A light breeze tousled his clothes gently, consisting of a pair of linen pants and an ivory white linen shirt, along with a chateaubriand-colored vest that had been stitched up in several places.

He carried a heavy travel bag filled with items he had to deliver to the appropriate people in a few hours.

Actually, there was time for a detour.

Perhaps to the inn that was opening its doors across the street.

Who knows what liquors they offered for lunch.