Chapter 3: Chapter 3.
However, did he really want to do that ? He felt terrified by just being there, so the very idea of being alone was petrifying. Minutes passed around an unmoving body, debating with itself. "What should I even take ?". He did not know, and if he spent too much time looking around the stuff, he would, without a doubt, be seen. What would those guys do then ? "Whatever ! There doesn't seem to be any good solution here : if I don't go I'll get wrapped up in a stupid conflict between crazy people, and if I hesitate too much the same crazy people will probably tear me a new one. Let's do it as naturally as I can as if it's totally normal.".
And so he did, approaching every table one by one, taking for himself whatever he felt like taking. A tinder lighter, a rope, two blankets, a large pelt, a tiny pillow, five soaps, a hairbrush, bandages and medicinal herbs, those were the very basics objects Nick thought might be useful. With these, he could camp and be as comfortable as one can be on rocky ground. He even tried to see past the near future with the hairbrush, as if trying to reassure himself that nothing wrong could happen : he had a hairbrush for his growing mane !
Then came the clothes, weapons, and armours. That was when a few people started taking notice of him, yet those still kept their indecisive behaviour, not really saying anything. They were definitely and understandably unresponsive to the world, not able to feel concerned as if it wasn't happening to them since they were not here. A complex, shaken feeling, translated in reality by a very passive attitude.
Feeling these off-putting gazes on his back but not hearing any reaction, Nick just went with his plan, first clothing himself decently. Dark chausses going down to the calf, a furlined sleeved surcoat over a bland tunic, and durable boots of high-quality leather. "Thankfully, these clothes are of average size, which coincidentally is my size. How will Beer be able to find anything for himself ?", he thought while shamelessly getting dressed. He quickly realised his mistake though, as he had not worn chainmail yet, and it should be : tunic, doublet, mail and surcoat. Technicalities.
And so, he put on a hooded hauberk down to his knees, mail covered leather bracers, a thick belt able to squeeze his waist and withstand the weight of a gipser and probably weaponry. Also, a scarlet surcoat. Mail was the best available apparently, no plate, no metal shields, and no heavy helmets. A fifty centimetres long hatchet was quickly fixed to his belt, as well as a long knife and, to be over with the armaments, Nick looked at a large number of spears bundled together. Long, short, thick, thin, not what it sounds like, there were all kinds of pikes and lances. Though with a few special ones : entirely made of metal, from tip to bottom. "That's weird.". Spears were supposed to be relatively light, very cheap and easy to make, but one like this sounded like a waste of resources.
Nick just grabbed one by curiosity, and was really surprised : it was made of metal, but not steel or iron, as it was way too light. Still, it was quite heavy for a spear, at least four kilos, but not as heavy as it should have been considering its size. A dark silver, one meter and fifty centimetres long pole, with a thin but fifteen centimetres long sharp-edged end. The whole thing was very barren, only featuring a pretty small spike at the bottom, and a ring demarcating the head from the pole.
- What are you doing ?, asked Muscle who had quite stealthily moved next to him.
Startled, Nick almost dropped the weapon. His hands immediately became sweaty, his brow wrinkled in a mix of fright and shame for being caught doing something he thought he should not have done.
- Why would you need that outfit, and those weapons ?, continued his burly interlocutor.
And it quite effectively hit Nick at that moment : why would he need it ? The only reason why he thought he should wear those things and equip himself was that all the stuff was actually in front of him. He felt a red tinge come to his face as even more shame invaded his mind. The presence of the food made him feel uncomfortable, and yet he took it. The weapons and armour made him feel uncomfortable, and yet he took it. He definitely played the part he felt he was supposed to play, and the only person actually thinking rationally just grabbed his head and made him have a good look at his stupidity. "Am I so simple that I would go with the flow knowing something is wrong ? Even then, why is all this equipment on display if it is not needed ?". At that point, he looked in Muscle's blue eyes.
- It felt wrong, but why is it here then ?
- Who knows ? If it belongs to someone else that doesn't like their stuff being played with, you just took the choice of messing with them from everyone here., he harshly answered.
It was true. The realisation of the responsibility he just assumed made Nick tremble slightly, quickly frozen though, by the recognizable voice of Beer interjecting.
- The kid is right. If it is here, then we don't have a god damn reason not to help ourselves to it. I'll personally feel less stressed with this., said he, grabbing a large sabre.
- You … !, began Muscle, until he saw five other people doing the same, and more coming.
He probably felt helpless, angry at himself for it and at others for not understanding. Nick was, for sure, a target of that anger. "What can he do, though ? I'm not proud of being the one to initiate this, but someone was going to anyway, in time. This guy may be great and smart and right in all things, but he doesn't know how to convince anyone …". Muscle was knowingly swimming crosscurrent, overestimating his capabilities from the get-go. To everyone their personal curse.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone