A Cold-Blooded POV

Walking on the outskirts of the village, Blake blew his hot breath onto his hands to heat them up. As the breath escaped his lips it crystallizes slightly, and the air became white. With every step more snow fell down as if all the moisture within was leaking out into the atmosphere. The cold wind brushed against his face while biting at the skin. It felt like a tight hugging hand grabbing onto him trying to squeeze life right out of him. It made him want to bury himself underground, and use the warm soil as a blanket.

He rubbed his hands together, allowing some friction to warm up his palms and fingers. He had just finished cleaning his boots with water from the river nearby, which caused his hands to freeze from the chilly breeze. Honestly, It would have been easier to just go to the water well within the village but Blake chose explicitly to avoid places that was too public.

His face was already known as a traitor, willingly going to a place where other people could potentially be was just asking for attention. The cool winds stroked his hair, causing it to flutter unrestrained and dramatically. With his right hand, Blake lifted his hair up and pushed it back, out of his face.

He turned left, peeking into the roads within the village. Kids ran through the thick snow, throwing balls of snow at one another, they laughed and smiled brightly. A young boy took off running down an alleyway while a small girl chased him laughing all the way. They both ended up rolling on their sides, covered in white powder that stuck to each others faces.

Blake had a complex expression watching this, his eyelids drooped slowly and buried memories resurfaced.

The happy sounds of children playing filled his ears but not as loud or bright as before. His face morphed, from curious to sad, then from sad to jealous. He despised seeing these kids run around so free and carefree without worry. Their innocent smiles forced memories he locked away to revive itself.

His heart ached deeply as if it was ripped apart and replaced with sharp pain. Those smiles, they were something he never got to experience at that age. Momentarily, his fists balled and hate flooded his eyes watching the scene.

A second later, he snatched his eyes off of the kids, looking down at his pocket on his jacket.

Currently, Blake was in Snowspell Village, a small village southeast of Veenvale, it was approximately a 8 day journey away. However, it was still located in the Northern Arx which was why the temperature was still similar to Veenvale with its snowy and cold climate.

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a black silky pouch, before unloosing it's strings and opening it. A clinking sound of metals rattling, hitting against each other rang out, and as the inside contents were revealed it glistened moderately. It was full of coins. Not gold but silver and copper ones. Very much different from his usual guild allowance. These were all coinage left from his travels to reach Snowspell Village, his habits of expensive spending played a major role in this.

Fortunately, Blake was smart enough to learn very fast that if he wanted to live, he would have to let go of his previous habits.

'Looks like I'm running low on coin again' he thought.

Placing the pouch back into his pocket, Blake glanced up, looking over all the small buildings of the village. He zeroed in at the tallest building, It was made of stone and wood, a large structure that loomed high above the rest of the structures of the town. It looked out of place in a back country village like this — like the home of some wealthy person. This was the building he was heading to.

After a few minutes of walking, Blake finally made it to the large building. The architecture was gothic with many vertical rectangular windows. Blake stepped forward, placing his two hands on the door, there was an intricate design on the front door that caught his eye as he pushed it open. The metal work on the door transferred coolness onto his hands, giving him chill bumps. It had been polished till it shined bright white. A gold leaf adorned every edge of the doors with beautiful carvings engraved throughout the surface.

These small details really added up when you considered how far away this place was from the capital; most likely the people here could never see something like this unless it was within one the cities of the Six Great Guilds or the capital where the nobles lived.

As soon as the door was opened, the bustling sounds of many people having different conversations entered his ears. It reminded him of Veenvale, with its busy streets and crowded taverns. Blake took a deep breath before stepping inside, and almost instantly the conversations stopped one by one, slowly fading into complete silence upon his entrance.

People turned their heads towards him, his eyes met with several pairs of eyes, each with their own feelings; hate, disgust, pity, superiority… Each one looking over him for a moment before turning back to what they were doing before he came in. Most likely gossiping about who he was and why he had come into the building. Blake forced a smile briefly before facing his head forward.

The air smelled of oil and sweaty bodies mixed together, however, there was a synthetic crystal orb hanging from the ceiling, purifying the bad odors to make the building smell nice and clean.

As he walked further inside, he found multiple lines going to different reception desks. Blake pulled out his silk pouch once more before taking out a couple copper pieces and walking to another reception where no one was standing in line. He walked closer and found a old woman sitting behind a wall.

"Welcome to the Golden Feather and Investment Management, how may I help you today?" She asked with a smile on her face.