Dawn had barely broken. Autumn mornings were somewhat cold, accompanied by damp fog and a gloomy chill.
The whistle of the wake-up caller shattered the silence and roused Csejthe Town.
A wake-up caller was a profession dedicated to waking people from their sleep in the morning.
A simplified version of a night watchman, only working briefly in the morning.
At a time when clocks with alarm functions were still luxury goods, hiring someone for the job was cheaper than buying a clock.
The adventurers were the first to wake.
They could no longer wait to leave this damned town.
Quite a few of them had not slept at all that night, merely waiting for dawn.
They had never longed so desperately in their lives to see daylight and the sun.
The only reason they had not left yet was to wait for the others who were asleep. They did not dare run without gathering everyone together.
They could not understand how those people who could still sleep managed it. How big did their hearts have to be to sleep peacefully after nearly dying at night, when the danger had yet to pass?
Was it exceptional mental fortitude, or simply a complete lack of nerves?
Prompted by the shrill whistles, the adventurers swiftly packed their belongings and gathered at the edge of town.
They had never been particularly reliable adventurers to begin with. Their equipment was pieced together, patched and mended, and who knew how many times it had changed hands. Most of them did not even have a complete set, making for what could be called a "mixed-and-matched style." After being attacked last night, they looked even more miserable.
If no one told you, who would have recognized them as adventurers hired to take on a commission here? They were