Chapter_6: Lady's Orders

Ragnar felt a wave of weariness wash over him. Lying on a soft surface, he could hear the distant hum of machines nearby.

'Was I unconscious? I should wake up now; Lady Ana could be waiting for me,' he pondered in his head with his eyes closed.

The persistent sound of the machine echoed in his ears, an irritating cacophony resembling metal colliding at an incredible speed.

Ragnar slowly opened his eyes and sat up, feeling a dull ache in his head that soon dissipated.

Although he still felt remnants of the piercing pain from the tiny needles, it had lessened, and he found that he could move more freely.

The wounds from the entities were not as painful, and he could almost move normally, covered with bandages concealing the injuries.

Ragnar was left with only brown shorts, his upper body wrapped in bandages.

"Are you awake, Ragnar? How are the wounds from the Ironclad treating you?" Arawn's attention was drawn to Ragnar as he shifted, the sound catching his ear.

Arawn swiftly removed his metal mask and powered down the tool he had been using.

"The pain has lessened, but I still feel discomfort from the needles. However, I can move with greater ease now. I am truly grateful to you, Arawn," Ragnar said with a smile, his eyes fixed on Arawn.

Arawn smiled in response. "You're welcome, Ragnar. However, you owe Lady Ana the most gratitude. If she hadn't brought you here, you'd still be in pain from your wounds."

Ragnar swiftly surveyed the room, realizing Lady Ana was no longer present. He rose to his feet, searching every corner, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she? Is she waiting for me outside?" Ragnar asked Arawn with a tinge of worry in his tone.

Arawn looked at Ragnar and quickly retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket.

"She left hours ago. She asked me to look after you while you were unconscious," Arawn explained to Ragnar.

Approaching Ragnar, he handed him the piece of paper, leaving him puzzled.

"Here, Lady Ana asked me to give this to you when you woke up. These are the items she wanted to buy, but since you're here, she's ordering you to buy them for her," Arawn continued.

Ragnar accepted the paper slowly, feeling an urge to resist her request. As he unfolded the paper, he read through the list:

"To Buy List: 4th Moon, 143 AR

by Lady Ana Smith, 'The Best Lady'

12 Brown Potatoes (From Old Lady)

Majestic Velvet Clothes (From Yeoman's Yard)

4 Injections (Medium Size) (From Merlin)

10 Apples (From Old Lady)

Ivory Bone Necklace (From Merlin)

5 Mini Lady Ana Stickers (From Yeoman's Yard)

Brown Trench Coat (From Yeoman's Yard)

Acherontian Crusher (From Merlin)

I am so great, and I am better. Thank you, Heizen, for the gift, mwa mwa."

Ragnar puzzled over Lady Ana's barely legible handwriting, thinking to himself, 'Her writing is barely understandable. Also, where are these places, and how can I buy with no money?'

Despite the chaotic nature of Lady Ana's writing, only a select few could decipher it, and Ragnar found himself among that group.

However, while he grasped what to buy, he remained perplexed by the specifics of the items, their locations, and the absence of funds for the purchases.

"I've already read the piece of paper. I know you are confused, but don't worry, I'll help you," Arawn reassured, retrieving a substantial handful of coins from his pocket.

"Isn't that yours, Arawn? How could I possibly borrow coins from you? Maybe I won't pay it back, so I won't take it," Ragnar said in a gentle yet conflicted tone.

Arawn enveloped Ragnar's large hands in his own, carefully depositing the coins within them before closing them tightly and gazing into Ragnar's latte eyes deeply.

"You need not repay me; this is for Lady Ana. I would even sacrifice myself for her and her entire family, including her most insignificant desires that seemingly hold no impact or meaning." Arawn's unwavering commitment to Lady Ana and her family resonated deeply within Ragnar. The intensity of Arawn's gaze left Ragnar at a loss for words, feeling the weight of his loyalty.

As Arawn released his grip on Ragnar, a sense of profound significance filled the air. Arawn's enigmatic smile conveyed a depth of understanding beyond words.

"Now, pursue your desires and heed her every command," Arawn uttered with a subtle yet profound significance, leaving Ragnar to grapple with the weight of his own choices.

In that moment, Ragnar experienced both confusion and a sense of liberation. He offered a sly smile to Arawn.

"Here, take this trench coat and these pants. Just make sure to return them," Arawn said, tossing the dark garments to Ragnar.

Ragnar swiftly donned the clothes upon catching them.

"Here, take these as well," Arawn said, tossing a silver pocket watch and a brown map to Ragnar.

Ragnar caught the pocket watch and the map, carefully adjusting his appearance, running his hands through his long brown hair, and grooming his small beard. He then checked the time on the pocket watch before tucking it into his pocket along with the coins.

"4:43 HU already? I need to make this quick," Ragnar muttered to himself.

He opened the already-broken door, giving Arawn a nod and a wave.

"See you next time, Arawn," Ragnar smiled, as Arawn waved back with a sly smile beneath his metal mask.

Ragnar examined the sprawling map, his eyes drawn to the imposing expanse of the city labeled "Citadel City" in the top right corner.

"Now, I should but the fruits first," Ragnar muttered to himself.

With purpose in his stride, he set out, his first task clear in his mind: procuring the essential fruits.

As he ventured forward, his gaze stretched across the horizon, where the city nestled on the towering mountain. Below, vast fields of farms extended for miles.

Pressing on through the narrow pathways of the Lowfire District, Ragnar found himself surrounded by dilapidated houses and crumbling structures, their purplish-red walls a testament to the district's storied past.

Taking a moment to consult the map, he paused, perching on a weathered stair. "Where could this old woman be?" he mused aloud.

As he studied the map, a mere handful of individuals passed by—a mix of gangsters, elderly residents, and even children—a diverse tapestry of life in the bustling district.

"There are a few shops here, but where could this old woman be?" Ragnar pondered.

"Chicken Grandma House, Old Nina Meatshop, Old Mina Meatshop..." Ragnar murmured to himself, mentally listing all the shops associated with an elderly woman, yet none seemed to offer the fruits he sought.

Ragnar remained engrossed in the map, unaware of the enigmatic figure in a dark-blue robe and a purple pointed hat, wielding a peculiar staff adorned with a crimson gem, who had glanced at him for such a long time.

Upon drawing a prolonged breath, Ragnar found himself ensnared by the enigmatic gaze of the man before him, whose countenance bore a sly, inscrutable smile.

"Pray, what weighs upon your mind, young one?" The man's visage, adorned with a thick, gray beard.

Despite his unfamiliarity with the man, Ragnar felt compelled to embrace the offered assistance.

"Could you direct me to a place where a senior lady sells fruits such as apples and potatoes?" Ragnar inquired, while the elderly gentleman scrutinized the map.

After careful examination, the old man made a revelation. "Ah, I understand your dilemma. A shop selling such produce was established seven years ago, but this map dates back ten years. It's outdated. Given your predicament, I'll accompany and aid you, young one," he offered in a gentle tone.

The old man straightened up and stretched his back slowly, prompting Ragnar to stand up and accept his assistance with the words, "I accept your assistance, old man."

"Old man? That sounds harsh to me. I'm not that old. But may I ask you about your name?" the old man inquired.

"I'm Ragnar. I was asked by someone to buy things for her, and now I'm lost in this place," Ragnar explained with a worried tone.

"Fear not, for I am here to lead the way. Come, follow me," the old man reassured as they set off through the district.

Ragnar promptly stowed the old map in his pocket. As the old man veered left, Ragnar followed.

"By the way, potatoes aren't technically fruits; they're vegetables," the old man said in a jested tone.

The old man continued and led him through another left and then a right, with Ragnar in tow.

As they proceeded, a stream of people passed by. Unexpectedly, the old man was bewildered, and his shocked expression caught Ragnar's attention, leaving Ragnar equally puzzled. Suddenly, the old man swiftly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Ragnar inquired, sharing in the confusion.

The old man remained silent, his shocked expression unyielding. The area was crowded with people, many of whom appeared terrified and stunned. Parents shielded their children's eyes from a disturbing sight.

Ragnar, unable to see past the crowd, swiftly made his way toward the unsettling scene. As he stopped, he was bewildered by the sight, feeling chills run down his spine.

A lifeless man was affixed to the wall with what appeared to be wax, completely enveloped in white. Only his hands, legs, and head were visible. His visage was particularly gruesome, with his face burned to the bone and blood seeping from the charred flesh onto the wax and the floor. His left hand had been severed, and the severed hand lay on the ground, clutching a long blade.