After a brief hike up her apartment’s inner stairwell, Rialta walked down the hall and unlocked her apartment. Upon entering, she was immediately met with a golden light flecked with hints of violet and crimson filtering through the half-shut blinds of the window above her bed. Before she did anything else, she resolved to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes for the evening.
Rialta exited the bathroom wearing a baggy T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. Her apartment had become noticeably darker, and the breeze flooding in through the window was cooler. She took a moment to delight in the comfortable night air wafting into the room before she noticed a letter on the floor which someone must have slipped underneath her door during her shower. She bent over to pick it up. It was an official-looking letter stamped with a fancy wax seal. It was addressed to her. She flipped over the envelope to see who had sent it. Her heart leapt as she read the addressor: “First Bank of Laelynn.”
She tore open the envelope to find a single-page letter.
49th Summer of the Year 292
Dear Ms. Meria,
I regret to inform you that a substantial offer has been placed upon the bank’s property located at 105 Townsend Road. Although I certainly wish to keep my word to you, management has determined that our offer to hold sale of the aforementioned premises cannot be indefinite; as you certainly must appreciate, we must prioritize the success of our business. The individual who has presented our bank with this offer understands that you have been given the right of first refusal for purchase. The down payment required for your purchase is *5,623. As you know, the term of our agreement expires exactly one week from the date of this correspondence. Should you fail to provide the down payment on or before the 56th day of summer in the year 292, (precisely seven (7) days from today’s date) we must sell the property to the other interested party.
I truly apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. I truly hope that, should you still be interested in the property, you will be able to provide the required funds in time.
Very Truly Yours,
Gregory Campbell, Senior Vice President
Rialta clutched the letter so tightly in her fist that the letter crumpled around the center. She looked up at the photograph of her mother, which was almost immediately obscured by the tears welling up in her eyes. She took the jar on her dresser and dumped it out. A cursory inspection told her there was five hundred gold in there. Five hundred fifty at the most.
Not even close, she thought.
At this thought, she broke into a shuddering sob. The pain was too much. She wasn’t going to buy the house, the last earthly symbol of her mother’s love and affection. It would be lost to her forever, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
She’d been foolish to ever convince herself that it was even a possibility. She wasn’t an adult with a disposable income. She was a stupid, nineteen-year-old girl with a silly dream that a single letter had sent up in flames. Without bothering to put the coins back in the jar, she slumped over to her bed and collapsed upon it. The events of the day flitted through her mind in the form of fleeting images, all of which resolved in her interaction with Remmy, the alleged cleric.
At this, her sobs were interrupted by her own laughter. She wiped away her tears and reached her hand into her pocket. She studied the card Remmy had given her. There was something so cruelly fitting about being offered a job by a charlatan at a time like this—fate’s way of rubbing salt in her wounds. She lay on the bed, thinking, and her mind drifted into a land of dreams without the nagging doubts of her ego. She considered life on the road as an adventurer. Camping out at night, wandering through the world, exploring caves and dungeons, gaining wealth exponentially faster than she could ever manage as a cook in a restaurant. She wore a serene smile on her face at the thought of it all.
Rialta sat upright and wandered over to the small window overlooking the city streets. She looked out on the night below and watched intently as ordinary citizens continued to walk about the city. She scowled. It was all so ordinary, so boring, so mundane. Was she going to become one of these people? Was this her destiny? To forever eschew her magic and work a menial job, carefully creeping through her life to make it safely to old age with nothing to show for it but the thoughts of what could have been?
Rialta looked over at the pile of money glittering under the light of the lamp on her dresser, then back down at Remmy’s card. “I’m not considering this,” she said out loud.
She got to her feet and paced the creaky hardwood floors of her apartment. She stopped by the kitchenette to grab an apple—not because she was hungry, but because she needed something to do as she parsed her chaotic thoughts.
She looked down at the card yet again. The opportunity, if there really was one at all, was feast or famine. She knew that much. Adventurers were either lauded, wealthy swashbucklers or washed-up vagrants and drunks. She paused at that thought, once again standing still and looking out the window as she chomped away at her apple.
Remmy clearly wasn’t a competent, bona fide adventurer, but he also wasn’t a vagrant. He certainly seemed to be younger than her, yet he had managed to secure enough wealth to buy some very flashy-looking clothes. Then again, he’d been practically begging for money on a street corner. It seemed there was no way of telling whether he was wealthy or destitute. But there was nothing to lose now, anyway, was there? Even if she had managed to pick up another job with similar pay to her last position at Calari’s, she wouldn’t be able to make the money in time to save her mother’s house.
She was pacing the floor faster now, though she did not realize it. She looked out the window again, desperately searching the streets as if for some sort of divine sign to lead her in the right direction. But nothing ever came. The night was as ordinary as any other, with only the typical dull roar of traffic to keep her company. She eventually retired to bed, and when she slept, her mind was teeming with conflicting dreams of disaster and glory.
Chapter 5
Rialta the Adventurer
Rialta arrived at the Questers’ Guild the following morning shortly after it opened. She entered through the huge double doors from the outside of the mall to find herself in a magnificent atrium. Speckled marble floors spanned the breadth of the wide-open hall, and its ceiling stretched at least fifty feet above where she stood. The ceiling was itself a matrix of steel and glass panes woven in intricate patterns such that the light filtering through glittered like a fine diamond. She supposed the governors had a great deal of interest in making the guild hall look as decadent and impressive as possible, seeing as the city collected the majority of their taxes from the transactions that went on in this place. Rialta looked about the atrium, but she did not see any sign of Remmy. She decided to sit on a bench while she waited for him to arrive.
As she waited, she received several nasty looks from the other adventurers, all of whom were making their way toward a set of revolving doors on the opposite end of the atrium. Given that she had lived as an ordinary cook until just the day before, she did not have any intricately embroidered robes, enchanted gems, magical potions, or any other gear one might expect a mage to have. She wore a plain T-shirt and jeans, and rather than use any specialized holster, she had simply stowed her mother’s old wooden wand in her belt for safekeeping. She had not realized how truly out of place she would appear when she left her apartment that morning. Indeed, she began to feel quite inadequate when confronted with the occasional sight of a veteran mage, each of whom were much more appropriately dressed. Another twenty minutes passed. Rialta clenched her fists as she eyed the exit.
I knew this was a stupid idea.
It was as though this thought was a magical summons. At that moment, Remmy came bursting through the massive entryway. He was with an extremely tall, burly young man clad in leather armor. Remmy was animatedly speaking to his companion, but his friend nodded along to whatever he was saying without appearing to give much input. Rialta hesita
ted, then gave a little wave in Remmy’s direction. He spotted her at once and hurried over to her.
“Rialta! It’s good to see you!” he said, wearing a broad grin as he approached her. “Rialta, this is John. John, Rialta.”
Rialta offered him a handshake. John’s massive, meaty hand engulfed her own, and he nearly crushed every bone in her fingers as they shook.
Remmy beamed at them both. “He’s a thief,” he added, nodding to John.
Rialta laughed. Remmy and John stared at her in silence. She stopped laughing as she observed their apparent confusion.
“Wait, you are—You are not serious,” she said, shifting her gaze from Remmy to John and back again. “He’s nearly two feet taller than you and he must weigh three hundred and fifty pounds! Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, but it seems an unfortunate build for a thief.”
“Only three forty, last I bothered to check,” John drawled.
“Your arms are the size of tree trunks!” Rialta said, gazing at him in disbelief. “How in the world is someone of your size supposed to be stealthy?”
John shrugged. “Don’t need stealth to steal stuff if I can just knock people unconscious and take their things before they get up. Much easier my way, really.” With this, John offered a grin to Remmy, who in turn held his hand up for a high-five in response. John accepted with a healthy zeal, smacking Remmy’s hand with his open palm. The resulting crack of the slap echoed throughout the hall. Remmy promptly collapsed to the ground from the force of the gesture. Rialta offered him a hand to get back to his feet.
With her help, Remmy stood and dusted off his robes. “Thanks, Rialta.”
“Think nothing of it,” she said. “But I’m curious. A thief is, well…” she hesitated, glancing at John, “…not exactly who I would have expected a cleric to be teaming up with.”
“John’s a good guy,” Remmy said, narrowing his gaze and sounding defensive.
“And I am not saying he is not!” Rialta replied, holding up her hands. “It is just a bit of a strange arrangement is all.”
John shrugged. “Look, we get along just fine. Remmy knows the risks and benefits of hanging around me.”
“Uh, well, fair enough,” Rialta said. “So who else are we waiting for?”
“Nobody,” Remmy said. “This is it—the three of us.”
“I thought you said you had a ‘crew,’” Rialta said warily.
“And now I do! A crew of three!” Remmy said, smiling. “John and I figured a mage would be the best complement to our strengths and really round out the team. With all our abilities combined, we should be able to take on some really high-paying quests.”
“Hold on a second,” John said. He took a step toward Rialta and stared down at her. Rialta did not move. She stared back up at him. “You say you’re a mage, huh? Well how about you prove it? We can’t be going around with some kind of phony on our crew, can we Remmy?”
“I—well, I guess not,” Remmy said sheepishly.
Rialta didn’t attempt to hide her annoyed expression. She lazily raised her right hand and turned her open palm upright. She maintained eye contact with John as she summoned a tiny poof of flame that vanished the second after it came into existence.
John nodded and shrugged. “Good enough for me.”
Rialta eyed Remmy and John, doubt lurking in her heart. A part of her wanted to make up some excuse—to walk away from this hapless situation and seek her fortune elsewhere. As she considered this option, she hesitated.
I suppose I truly have nothing to lose.
“Shall we get going, then?” Rialta asked, nodding toward the revolving doors on the other end of the hall and forcing herself to smile.
John grinned. “Absolutely. Let’s go earn some gold.”
With that, the trio headed off toward a smaller set of double doors leading into the Questers’ Guild hall.
Chapter 6
A Noble Quest
Rialta felt her jaw drop the instant she walked through the revolving doors. The three of them were instantly ushered into a massive crowd of people. Here and there were small groups of adventurers, all of them easily distinguishable from Laelynn’s civilians, as they were clad in armor or magical robes, or at least carrying swords, bows, wands, or staves. But the majority of the crowd was made up of individual citizens, all of whom seemed to be doing their very best to scream over each other in the hopes that one of the various crews of adventurers who had assembled there would notice and accept their quests.
“I need my laundry done today! Paying two silver per six loads completed!” screamed a little old woman toting around a cart full of her disgusting, dirty clothes.
“Find my cat! I can’t find my cat! Her name is Mittens! I have reference photos! Paying four copper to find my cat!” shouted a young boy in raggedy overalls as he scurried through the crowd.
“Paying eleven thousand gold for a group of elite mercenaries to slay Liandra, the Almighty Night Goddess of Eternal Torment!” cried an absurdly old man wearing a long, gray cloak. His hands were laden with dozens of rings, each of which was embedded with an array of gaudy, glittering gems.
These were only a few of the screams Rialta was able to hear amidst the would-be quest-givers roaring throughout the market square.
“This is madness!” Rialta yelled to Remmy and John over the din around them. “How exactly are we supposed to find a reasonable quest paying reasonable money? I think doing laundry might be below our pay grade, but I am also not quite sure we can handle assassination of a goddess.”
Remmy furrowed his brow, apparently considering his answer. “John and I have a lot of experience here,” he yelled back. “Looking for a good quest in this square is kind of like shopping for clothes at a consignment shop. You have to sift through a whole lot of crap before you find something worth buying.”
Rialta nodded, pleasantly surprised to find Remmy’s metaphor was actually helpful.
The ‘crap,’ however, proved to be much more abundant than anything worth pursuing. Nearly an hour had passed and Remmy, John, and Rialta were no closer to finding a quest worth taking than they had been when they walked through the door to the Questers’ Guild earlier that morning.
As they continued to shove their way through the citizens of Laelynn, a gray-haired man eventually approached the trio from amid the crowd waving his arms frantically as he approached them. “Hello there, hello!” he cried. “Looking for work? How would you three like to guard my stand back in the outer mall for the next hour? I need to run some errands and I won’t be able to watch it while I’m gone. I’m paying a reasonable reward for the work, mind you.”
“Good sir!” Rialta said with a smile. “That sounds like it could be exactly what we are looking for! What do you offer for your request?”
“Aha!” shouted the old man, a smile plastered across his face. “Very glad you asked!” He turned to rifle through a moldy old bag slung over his shoulder. “If you can successfully protect my wares for the next hour, your reward will be Gerald, the merry enchanted jester!” With that, he withdrew a very dirty green doll from within the bag. The doll’s impassive, decaying face was obscured by frayed wisps of greasy gray hair. It craned its neck up slowly to meet the trio’s gaze. Rialta grimaced in disgust and jolted backward so quickly that she slammed her shoulder into Remmy, knocking them both off balance. John casually caught them both with one arm to keep them from falling.
“Hey there everybody!” the doll said in a raspy, high-pitched voice. Its head lolled around limply as it spoke. “Do you all want some peanut butter?” Its button eyes narrowed, and its voice dropped four octaves as it said:
“I make it myself.”
“Ugh! Gross!” Remmy said, slapping Gerald out of the man’s hands. Gerald let out a long, high-pitched wail as it soared into the air, landing somewhere in the midst of the crowd some thirty feet away.
“Gerald!” shouted the old man, running after the doll.
Remmy pout
ed and crossed his arms. “Why are all these quests hot garbage today?” he asked.
“I do not know,” Rialta said, frowning. “There is bound to be someone reasonable around here somewhere though, correct?”
“Why do you keep talking like that, Rialta?” John asked.
Rialta felt an uncomfortable knot twist in her stomach. “What do you mean?” she asked, doing her best to look nonchalant.
“The way you talk, it’s all prim and proper and stuff,” John said. “It just sounds funny is all.”
“Well I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” Rialta said, her harsh tone contradicting her affable smile.
John shrugged. “I don’t have a problem. Just curious. It’s weird. Let’s just find some work, okay?”
Rialta nodded. “Indeed.”
After another hour of fruitless effort, Remmy suggested that they attempt to venture into the bazaar section of the mall. He explained that although the Questers’ Guild was the primary place to pick up or dish out quests, there was generally at least a small contingent of quest-givers seeking to hire adventurers in a less hectic atmosphere.
“How are any of us supposed to find an assignment out here?” Rialta asked, looking about the crowded market.
“Blind faith,” John said sarcastically, stuffing his pockets with apples and peaches from a kiosk whose vendor who was temporarily distracted by a flock of seagulls flying overhead.
“Oh, look!” Rialta said as she finally spotted a man in the middle of the crowd with a cardboard sign reading:
‘Please help! Need young adventurers to assist fragile old man. Substantial reward to be provided upon successful completion of quest.’
A Quest for Chumps (Departed Dimensions Book 1) Page 3
