Chapter 2

The eternal darkness had swallowed the world whole, oil lamps burned profusely becoming this world's most valuable source of light. In the outer districts of the city, where the air is thick with the stench of sweat and poverty, a young boy scrubbed the dirt from the floor of old Neil's bar. His hands raw and covered with bruises worked strategically as the dirty bucket with water beside him darkened with every stroke. He could hear the laughter and the various voices of the customers but he paid them no mind , his world was a quite one, filled with rhytmic scrape of the brush and his breath .

The boy's name was clive, though not many knew his name. To the regulars at Old Neil's, he was simply "the boy," a shadow that moved silently through the dimly lit bar. His eyes were hidden behind a piece of tattered purple cloth, a makeshift blindfold that covered the blank eyes where his sight should have been. Yet even without eye sight, clive saw more than most people. He had learned to listen, to feel the world around him in ways others could never imagine. The vibrations in the floorboards would tellhim when someone approached, the scent of sweat and stale ale revealed who was nearby, and the sound of voices softer, more intimate than they realized spoke volumes about the thoughts and fears of the customers in the bar.

Tonight, the bar was more crowded than usual. Word had spread that Lady Harlingen would be telling one of her stories, and the people of the Outer District, desperate for a distraction from the darkness that pressed in on all sides, had gathered to listen. Clive paused in his work, tilting his head slightly to catch her voice as it carried over the din. The night went by slowly and eventually lady Harlingen finished telling off her tale and he listened as the people left discussing the tale they had just heard. Eventually everyone left and it was only him, old Neil, his trusted friend mordecai, lady Harlingen and her lover. Eventually lady Harlingen and her lover left but not before lady Harlingen gave him a coin and from its feel it was a single Terran which was the currency used for local trade and petty transactions, and common goods. Being blind clive relied on his sense of touch to differentiate between the coins since all of these meta00p

l alloys had a different weight and feel to them, Terran was the lowest-value currency, used every single day by the locals.

Nexar being the medium-value currency, used for everyday transactions, commerce, and services. Auror being a High-value currency, used for international trade, royal transactions, and precious goods. Kyrium being a rare, high-value currency, used for exclusive transactions, luxury goods, and special services.

Terran's Texture is Coarse, like rough-hewn stone while it feels solid, dense, and heavy in the hand while it's edges roughly stamped, with a slight unevenness, Nexar's texture is smooth, with a subtle sheen and feels cool to the touch, like polished metal it's edges Precise, with a slight bevel. The other two he did not know them since he had never came in contact with them, 1 Terran (base unit) ,1 Nexar (base unit) which means a single Terran = 0.5 Nexar followed by Auror with a single Auror = 5 Terran and 1 Auror = 2 Nexar with the last being Kyrium with 1 Kyrium = 10 Terran and 1 Kyrium = 5 Nexar this currency system was widely known as either luminari standard or luminari exchange.

Clive quickly put away the coin and continued with his scrubbing, he could feel two gazes directed at him but luckily they both harbored no ill intent. From a young age he had discovered the ability to feel intents and even though he had no sight he saw more than anybody else, as he continued scrubbing he old Neil's friend mordecai spoke in a low voice 

"But old friend can't you let the boy go now? He is blind and unfit for this." Clive could clear hear the pity in his voice, there was nothing more he hated than people who pitied him because of his condition thus he subtly stopped scrubbing trying to calm his breath after mordecai stopped before resuming. 

For a short while no response came and the only sound that could be heard in the bar was the sound he was making with his brush until a heavy sigh resounded and he knew it was old Neil's, slowing down his pace he tilted his head positioning his ear in a way he could clear hear the response old Neil would give

"In a way you are right, but you are not looking at the bigger picture. This boy chooses to work here even though his mother's debt to me has been fully paid. I do not force him to work here and honestly I have grown a little attached to him, he is the only one that can listen to me without judging me or giving me nasty looks plus if I chase him away I would be dooming him to a life of hunger...I am all his got." Old Neil added at the end tilting head to steal a glance at mordecai, mordecai nodded in understanding and murmured a low "I see." The both of them failing to notice that clive's grip on his brush had tightened and that he had also stopped scrubbing. 

But before anyone could speak further the oil lamp went off, "well, today's oil has run out I will be heading upstairs to rest my friend." Old Neil shook his head with a smile, mordecai bad him farewell before exiting the bar. In the darkness old Neil stared at clive for a few moments before going upstairs leaving the boy who had suddenly stopped scrubbing alone, since the darkness was not an issue for him clive would always continue to work after the oil lamps that old Neil always mentioned. Thinking back to when he first started scrubbing old Neil's floor he was quiet young and inexperienced and back then it took him 6 whole months before he could easily navigate the bar while cleaning. Old Neil back then was ruthless often stepping on his fingers or kicking over the bucket he used but clive had endured all that torture silently without even once complaining and as time went by the frequency of his provocation dropped until he finally started to ignore him. 

Even though he was silent clive had developed a deep hatred for old Neil,after all he was a very hateful person. The world had been unfair to him since birth so why should he be kind and forgiving? To him this world is a very horrible place filled with liars, drunkards, criminals and also the great abominations named the fallen that preyed on them, from the stories he has heard the world outside of the city walls is an extremely dangerous place where only humanity's strongest warriors named the Pathfinders can traverse .

He finished scrubbing the floor his hands sore, he rose to his feet in preparation to leave. He knew every inch of the bar so navigating the space was not to hard for him. Rinsing his brush in the bucket, he wrung it out, the sound of water dripping onto the floor echoing in the darkness. Silently making his way to the door his fingers trailing against the wall,he pushed open the door and the cold air enveloped him like a shroud. Shuddering, he stepped out into the darkness, his feet carried him on the familiar path one he had walked countless times. 

Since it was sleeping time,the city's rhythm had died down and he streets were empty and still.the merchants who were usually loud had packed their wares and the vendors had gone home and thecsrtz had ceased rumbling. The only sound are the distant howls of the wind, the creaks and groans of the old buildings. Clive's fingers still trailing along the walls as he made his way home, with the belief that nobody knew the outer district better than him, it had taken him years but now navigating through this District was easy as soon as he left the closed space the cold became aggressive he had left the crowded area and was heading towards the cemetery that is where he lived, his shack was just outside of the cemetery. This is where he had lived ever since he was a small child with his mother, they were outcasts because his mother had elden blood. Thinking back to his life with his mom a he could a sharp pang in his heart, the world had denied him sight and later on it took away his mother the only person that had truly ever loved him and took care of him.

After a short while of walking he arrived and opened the creaky door of his shack, stepping inside there was nothing much other than a single pallet which he used as a makeshift bed and a pile of clothes on one corner of the shack, he collapsed onto his pallet, exhaustion washing over him like a tidal wave. He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the events of the night. Lady Harlingen's story, Old Neil's words, Mordecai's pity.

He pushed it all aside, his thoughts turning to the coin in his pocket. A single Terran, a small fortune in his hands. He smiled to himself, a plan forming in his mind.

Tomorrow, he would go to the market, buy some food and supplies. Maybe even a get himself that cobberstone fish he had smelt when passing by the market. Old John jad said that it only cost one Terra which means he would be left with nine terras

But for now, he just rested, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud as he fell asleep, after all tomorrow was a big day.