A Cold-Blooded POV

Inside of a worn down barn house, far past the few stables of animal enclosures, there was a boy no older than 19 years old. Blake twisted and turned on top of the bronze-colored hay. The prickly hay was obviously uncomfortable, it continuously poked at the boy, it's repetitive bristles made his back and sides itch achingly. Unable to endure for much longer, he sat up, scratching his body.

His long white — almost grey hair swayed and landed on his back, other parts covered his face. The boy himself was pale, it looked as if he had missed out on most meals, his skinny body was sore and red from sleeping on top of something so uncomfortable, still, this was better than sleeping on nothing at all.

The smell of horse and pig excrements immediately assaulted his nose, however, he continued to breathe like normal. He had grown to realize that no matter how much he covered his nose, the smell would still remain.

He could still remember the first time he had to sleep here, he complained about everything, from the smell to the prickly hay he had to sleep on, thinking back on it now though, Blake just shook his head.

'No. Complaining about things now is just a waste of energy' he thought.

The roosters around the barn yelled their lungs out, as if to call to the gods. This let Blake know that it was time to get up. Stretching his legs and arms, he stood up, reaching down to pick up his small pieces of leather armaments. After equipping his gear and boots he reached for his sword that he had purchased a few days ago.

It was a ordinary sword, not even the right sword he needed for his class as a magic swordsman, however, magic swords costed too much for him at the moment. The sword was of poor quality, far below the standards he grew accustomed to within the Tremblebane guild.

Once finished equipping the sword onto his waist he opened the stable's door to exit. Upon his first step out, his foot landed inside of something mushy and soft.

Without even having to look down, a sigh escaped Blake's lips, the odor that lifted, floating into his nostrils was enough to inform him of what he had just laid his foot into. He closed his eyes and laughed self deprecatedly.

'Of course' he thought, welcoming his horrible luck. He had grown accustomed to such terrible luck at this point, it was this luck that got him in this situation in the first place, after all.

He lifted his head, looking out of the window at a raining snow that fell from the sky, a few clouds were scattered across it. It wasn't gonna be long until the loud bell would ring out through the town's walls, announcing that it had reached noon. Blake shivered slightly, getting ready for the coldness of the wind and snow outside.

He then began moving toward the exit of the barn, as he walked he never completely dropped his right foot on the ground, he didn't want to spread the animal dung around the barn more than it already was, this was his home at the moment after all.

As he reached the large brown wooden double doors, he pushed them open. Immediately after the doors swung open, a figure stood behind the doors.

It was a man. He was wearing a large thick coat, one thick enough to keep him decently warm to go about his day during such cold temperatures, underneath the brown coat there were black overalls with a white shirt. The figure was a old man with black hair that had flakes of grey. He had a large build, obtained over the many years from working on the farm house.

This man was the owner of the barn that Blake had been renting these past days. Financially, Blake had been having a very hard time, after being kicked from the guild, his social status dropped dramatically after he was removed from the guild and publicly warned for his breaking of the dungeon regulations.

On the surface he was a free man, he had been pardoned by the Enforcers and excused from the punishment that he was supposed to receive. On the other hand, socially, he was vilified and labeled a traitor of the Kingdom. This resulted in a number of things, leading him to only be able to get a place to live in a small village.

"Hurry and get outta here, I told you that you need to be out of this barn everyday before the town's bell sounded. I don't want anyone knowing I'm helping a 'traitor of the of the kingdom'. If you want to live here you should follow the rules boy" the man stated bluntly.

"Sorry Mr. Hartelle, I was just on my way out now". Blake replied obediently. He smiled innocently, yet, his grip on the handle of his sword spoke otherwise on about his feelings.

Blake hated this. He hated that he had to deal with peasants as lowly as the man in front of him treating himself as a muck of dirt. If he wanted to, even though the sword he had now wasn't the proper sword for a magic swordsman, he could easily wield it against this village of farmers and country bumpkins.

Yet, he knew that if he did that he would be hunted down by the Enforcers. Even when he was leaving they seemed annoyed that he was being allowed to keep his life after he entered the dungeon, if he did anything more they would easily use that as an reason to get him executed. He instinctively felt chills run down his arms and legs as he vividly remembered the guild manager's head being chopped off.

This was what kept him in check when he would want to deal with the villagers, besides, he was used to playing nice and innocent, it's what he had been doing his whole life.

Seeing the smile plastered on Blake's face, the man sucked his teeth. "Good, now get out. And remember, don't come back until midnight when everyone is sleep, ya hear? Any slip up and you gettin the hell outta here". Saying this the man rubbed his hands together before placing them into his coat pockets, away from the painful cold, then he turned around and walked away, toward his farm house.

As soon as the man turned around Blake's innocent smile vanished immediately, being replaced with a disgusted expression. His eyes shined with a cold glint.