by J. T. Wright
He had a ridiculous amount of hard to find herbs, and the amount of Undead and Infernal Beast parts explained how a twelve-year-old could be a Level 9 with two Classes. All told, Agatha owed the boy…
“Here’s what I'll do, boy. A month’s worth of rations and five silvers! How that sound?” Agatha waited for the inevitable counteroffer, and when Trent merely told her that sounded fine, she felt conflicted. The boy was too naïve.
“Ask for fifty, boy.”
“What?”
“Ask for fifty!”
Trent pointedly looked at Agatha’s signboard and its note about what hagglers could do. “I prefer to eat pastries.”
“Never mind the bleeding sign, boy! You want fifty? Bah, go rob your grandmother you, brat! I'll give you ten, and no more! Forty? Why not cut my throat and burn my shop down while I'm sleeping, you shhhi… humph, thirty-five is all you'll get! Damn straight, you'll take it.”
Agatha slammed the coins down on the table and stalked off to gather the dried goods she had promised him. Trent was left baffled by her antics. He’d been willing to accept five silvers. He had no idea what prompted her fit, or caused her to stumble over her curses.
He tucked one silver for the Guild token into his belt pouch and put the rest in Storage. When Agatha returned carrying bags of dried goods, those joined the coins. He expected to leave the old woman after that. He was very surprised when, without even bothering to close the door to the shop, Agatha grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him into the Guild personally.
Chapter 28
Agatha dragged Trent out the door and across the street. Five steps up, through the door of the Guildhall and then down ten steps. Trent almost tripped twice while Agatha hurried him along. The woman’s firm grip on his shoulder kept him on his feet and allowed no delays.
Trent noticed that people made way for the shop owner. He had to fight for every step he took in Al’drossford, but one look at Agatha stopped others in their tracks. The crowded street seemed more like an extension of Agatha’s shop, her personal property, instead of a public thoroughfare.
The Guild’s entrance was the same. Rough looking warriors stepped politely aside as Trent was hustled by them. When he was jerked to a halt at the bottom of the interior stairs, no one complained. He and Agatha were clearly in the way, but Adventurers making their way in and out nodded respectfully, and apologetically offered excuses to Agatha for their passing.
“Take a good look, boy.” Agatha waved a hand grandly at the Guildhall that spread out before them. “A first visit to the Guild should be savored.”
Trent had thought the Guild looked as large as a fortress from the outside. Inside, Trent found himself in a massive hall split into three distinct parts. The first area alone could have held a thousand people. A stone pillar twenty feet high rose at the center.
Atop the pillar, sat a ball of green glass. The ball was a perfect sphere, but though no chains or ropes held it in place, it showed no signs of rolling off. Peace flowed from the sphere. A weight fell from Trent’s shoulders in its presence. He was able to look around calmly as the tension that had driven him into Agatha’s shop completely dissipated.
Beyond the pillar, against the far wall, Adventurers queued up at tall wooden counters. Behind the counters, Guild employees in grey uniforms answered questions and resolved concerns. Not everyone was happy with the results of their conversations at these counters, but as far as Trent could tell from a distance, none argued with the attendants.
To the left, a set of broad stairs led upward, and there appeared to be tables arranged on the landing at the top. The sounds of boasting and the clinking of mugs could be heard coming from that area. Trent assumed it must be a resting place of some sort.
To the right, if you went down a set of steps, you would find yourself in an arena. There were as many Adventurers gathered there as anywhere else. Two men, stripped to the waist, fought with wooden swords as the others watched. Bets were made, and cheers resounded as the two combatants traded blows.
Up till now, Trent only had Guardsmen to compare himself too. He had felt out of place in his mismatched and battle-worn equipment. In the Guild, Trent’s appearance was ordinary. He was a little more ragged-looking than these men and women, but he didn’t stand out.
It was as if someone had captured a rainbow, chopped it into bits and scattered the pieces randomly. Adventurers didn’t care if their armor matched. They would wear anything so long as it offered the best protection or carried an enchantment. No one minded if their pauldrons were a different color from their breastplate, or their gauntlets were made of a different material that their greaves.
Trent saw one Mage dressed in a silver robe, wearing a pointed hat that was orange with green stripes. Walking beside the Mage, a woman wore a bright red top, a wrap, which exposed her shoulders and midriff. Judging from the sword at her waist, Trent assumed she was a Warrior or another Class that fought at the front, and if that were true, the wrap that barely covered her must have held powerful defensive enchantments. Trent wasn’t sure he would have been able to trust such skimpy garments to protect his own skin.
“There’s more upstairs, of course, libraries, rooms for rent and such, but the main floor holds the majority of what the Guild has to offer.” Trent’s eyes went to Agatha as the old woman began to speak.
“You can judge Adventurers by what they say is the most important. Those that prefer the commons,” Agatha snorted and jerked her head towards the area with the tables, “say they do so because the freshest rumors and information can be found there. They’re also usually drunken fools.
“You need to watch out for those that prefer the pit,” Agatha continued, gesturing towards the arena. “It’s meant to be a place to train and settle disputes. In reality, it’s used for gambling and blood sport more often than not. That’s not so true in Al’drossford, though. Duke Lewis allows lawful duels but frowns on needless killing.”
“Business-minded Adventurers spend most of their time at the counters. Quests normally end there, the ones that pay coin. You can commission repairs from Guild Craftsmen or buy new equipment at a discount, depending on your rank. It’s mostly saplings that do that. The best smiths set up their own shops, or trade through places like my own, rather than work for the Guild.”
Other services were offered at the counters, but Agatha could see Trent was only listening with half an ear. The noise and swirl of color had captivated the boy. But every now and then, his eyes drifted to the stone cylinder at the center of the room. Adventurers were stopping there to place a hand against the stone, and when they did so, their eyes took on a vacant look as if they were praying or Status gazing.
“That’s the most important thing here.” Trent’s voice was barely audible over the clamor.
“You’re not wrong. That makes you a smart Adventurer.” Agatha nodded approvingly. “Men built the Guild, but the Questing Pillar builds itself. Once a building has been marked with the Guild symbol and consecrated, a pillar forms at the center. When you place your hand on it, you’ll see all Quests in the area that your rank and Level allow you to accept. Sometimes World Quests will appear. Those…”
“Not the pillar, the ball.” Trent swallowed. He couldn’t take his eyes off the green sphere.
“That? Hmm, in a way that allows the Guild to function, I suppose.” Agatha watched Trent closely, the boy seemed entranced. “It can’t be Appraised, not by any means I’m aware of. Enchanters have studied it for centuries. They’ve managed to reproduce its effects, more or less. Any place of significance, the Duke's Keep, for example, uses their work to maintain order.
“They call it the Serenity Sphere. It doesn’t change a man’s nature. A killer will always want blood, but an Awakened is less affected by his Class’s weaknesses under its influence. A new Berserker won’t go crazed.”
“They’re wrong,” Trent whispered. Agatha strained her ears but most of Trent’s words were lost to her. “It’s a truce amongst
hunters. You must never break the truce.”
“What did you say, boy?” Agatha grabbed Trent’s chin and forced his eyes away from the sphere.
“I said,” Trent cleared his throat and pushed Agatha’s hand away. “I said it’s nice here, peaceful.”
Agatha wanted to strangle Trent. She hadn’t caught what he had muttered, but there was truth in his words. Both those she had missed and the ones he spoke clearly. Which was ridiculous! The Guild was about as peaceful as a riot. She peered at the boy for a time, and the traffic that had been passing around the two stopped. No one wanted to get involved in whatever Agatha was about to do to the Al’rashian she was with.
“Never mind then,” Agatha snapped, “Let’s get you registered. We’ve wasted enough time. Follow me, boy!”
Conscious of the eyes on him, Trent pulled up his cowl and equipped his mask before trotting to catch up. Agatha bullied her way through the crowd and over to the counters with their attendants. She walked straight to the front of the line. She did choose the line with the least amount of people in it, but that was the only concession she made to appease the waiting Adventurers.
“Preston, register this boy with the Guild.” Agatha slapped a silver down on the counter as she made her demand. Trent took a silver coin out and tried to hand it to her, to repay her, but she refused to take it.
“I'm responsible for mining-related Quests today, Mistress Agatha. You'll need to go see…” Preston was braver than the Adventurers in the room and attempted to object. Agatha overruled him.
“I don’t care what you were doing. Registering this boy is what you are doing now!”
Preston studied the masked Warrior that Agatha pushed towards him. Trent looked the Guild Attendant over in return. Up close, the attendant’s uniform was more elaborate than it appeared from a distance. Gold thread decorated the grey shirt at the collar and wrists, and a symbol was embroidered over Preston’s heart.
The symbol looked to be a cave entrance at first glance, but as Trent stared, he thought he could see the faintest impression of eyes above the opening. Seeing the eyes, turned stalagmites into teeth and the cave into a Beast’s mouth. A sword and a pickax crossed in the center of the symbol, either guarding the entrance to the cave or preventing the approach of the Beast, depending on how you looked.
Preston cleared his throat and opened a drawer behind the counter. He took out a wooden disc and placed it in front of Trent. “Bind this, please.” The attendant placed a touch of emphasis on the word please, but not much. He wanted to remind Agatha that manners existed in the world, not give the old woman a reason to berate him.
Trent placed his palm over the disc and sent his Mana into it. He expected to feel the click that came along with binding magic tools and soul-bound equipment. That wasn’t what happened. The essence of magic surged into the token and then back into his arm. The Mana circulated through his body, and Trent tingled from its journey.
He grew concerned. He didn’t have much Mana. Binding a tool usually took five points or less, but that wasn’t the case with a Guild token. He was about to pull up his Status to check his magic reserves when the process stopped. Strangely, unlike times before, his Mana ended up back at his center instead of remaining in the token.
“I'm… done, I think,” Trent informed the waiting Agatha hesitantly. He removed his palm from the token.
“That took longer than usual.” Preston reached curiously for the wooden disc and gave Agatha an aggrieved look when she snatched it away.
Agatha ignored the attendant. She held the token close to her face, and turned it over, examining it from all angles. Trent thought he saw the woman lick the disc once but decided she had probably been wetting her lips.
“Three Trials, three! Two first clears! Hmm… one major, a survival type, Undead, could have figured that out from the bits and pieces you were carrying. Someone else finished the true Guardian but you faced a minor one. You had help with that. A Beast that was too much for you, but you managed the final blow.
“Your first was… fire that doesn’t burn? Damn it! What does that mean? And you’ve been to the Garden, recently. That can’t be right, you’re too mixed up, there’s too much…”
Agatha had hoped that Trent’s Guild token would hold the answers she wanted. All she found were more questions. This boy confounded her Sight. He spoke truth plainly, she’d yet to catch him in a single lie, but that truth was twisted, shadowed. It was as if there were things the boy couldn’t speak of. Things he couldn’t admit. Things he didn’t know that he knew!
Giving up, Agatha handed the token to Trent. She disregarded Preston’s outstretched fingers and didn’t notice how quiet the hall had become.
Preston spoke up quickly, “I can examine it for you, Mistress Agatha. Perhaps, a proper reading will…”
“I don’t need your statistics and numbers! I need…” Agatha couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t curiosity that prompted her actions. Not entirely. “Congratulations, Trent, you’re an Adventurer in the Guild now.”
Agatha tried to put some life into her voice, but her words were as wooden as Trent’s token. Typically, a young Awakened joining the Guild would be accompanied by friends and family who would celebrate the moment. As far as she could tell, Agatha was all Trent had.
She should bring him up to the commons and toast him. She should gather friends, and together, they would regale the boy with stories of their exploits to inspire him. At the very least she should have Taylor make the boy a set of new clothes. The ones Trent wore were stained beyond what Self-Clean could remove.
Trent peered at his token and then carefully tucked it into his belt pouch. He would transfer it to Storage later. He was uncomfortably aware that Agatha’s display had drawn every eye in the Guildhall their way.
“I'll be careful with it. Thank you.”
“Do what you want with it, boy. You won’t be able to break it or lose it. I knew a man once who made a hobby of tossing his away and seeing how long it took for the token to make its way back. He even tried burying it. He put the token in the ground, then stripped naked and ran as fast as he could. Didn’t get more than twenty steps before it weaseled its way into his hand.”
That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but Agatha remembered how Trent hadn’t been able to bring himself to curse at her when she had him pinned. What his mouth couldn’t speak, his ears shouldn’t hear.
“Come along, Trent, we’re done here.” Agatha placed a hand on Trent’s shoulder. She guided him to the exit with noticeably less haste than she had dragged him in.
Outside she faced him. “It’s getting late. There’s an empty bed at home if you need it. My husband will be glad to meet you.”
Trent shook his head. “I have a Quest. Thank you again.” He had heard others call her Agatha, but the woman had never introduced herself. It felt wrong to refer to her by a name she hadn’t offered. He felt he owed her something and inclined his torso in a short bow before turning to leave.
She’d been a monster to him when they first met, and nothing had really changed that opinion. But maybe monsters could be kind.
Agatha watched the boy fade into the bustling crowd, but her eyes kept a lookout for him long after he had disappeared. She sighed and looked back at her shop that doubled as a home for her and Taylor. Its door still stood open.
That was alright. None were foolish enough to steal from Agatha’s Adventuring and Alchemical Supplies. Right now, she wished they were. Tracking down a thief and listening to him squeal as he repented would brighten her day.
Agatha walked away from her shop. Down a block and then to the right. Her footsteps were heavy as she made her way to a destination she never consciously decided to visit.
The well she found herself standing at was out of place in the solemn square. People that made their way through here were quiet and respectful. Though the rundown and untended water source was the only object present, you could feel an imposing presence in the air
.
This was a temple. A temple to a god whose priest never slept indoors. A temple to Bydum, God of Travelers.
Bydum was the only god Agatha had ever prayed to. She had been a traveler since birth. She’d spent most of her life on the road. That only changed when she met Taylor. Her parents had been travelers until their deaths. They had died despite her prayers, but Agatha never held that against Bydum. You could ask for safety, but there were no guarantees in the Infinite World.
Agatha fished out a gold coin and tossed it into the well. “Safe travels for Trent Embra. Calm roads and fair weather for a lost boy.”
She started to turn away, then tossed a second coin into the well. “If trouble should find him, strength to his arm, and courage to his heart.”
Agatha laughed at herself. She’d expected Trent to be worth gold when she had first seen him, and now, here she was tossing gold away for his sake. Gold, when coppers would do. Offerings to Bydum were more about intent than wealth. She was becoming the old woman she pretended to be.
Trent would be fine. She might not be able to see that much as a Seer, but she knew it as a Warrior. That first swing the boy had taken at her had been under the influence of the thrice-damned Fairy Cloak Ability. His subsequent struggles had been his own. The boy was fierce! He would meet what was to come or what was following him. It would be those that troubled him who knew fear!
Feeling a fool, Agatha dug out two more gold coins, and they fell into the well with a splash. “If the boy’s road leads him back here someday, well, I wouldn’t mind if he had a thought to visit.”
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
