For the average man, the concept of free will is the grandest illusion. Yet, this misconception is dwarfed by the more profound and enveloping deception experienced by those touched by Mana. Forces whose natural state is one of indefinite paradox.

Those blessed, or perhaps cursed, by Mana operate under the belief that their choices are their own. However, their actions are manipulated by Mana, a pattern as old as the universe. This deception is so deeply ingrained within the fabric of their souls that they never think to question its reality as they are slowly molded into something other. What remnants of free will they might possess are slowly traded for new invisible shackles on their souls.

This is the reason for their madness as they progress down their ‘path’.

But there is a force even more constraining than this. The notice of the gods. Once their gaze is upon you, and their voice reaches your ears, you are irrevocably transformed into a mere extension of their divine will.

Gone now is the illusion and all pretext that man’s choices are his own.

- Attributed to the Wrack Witch before her execution circa 245 AC.

The Adventurer’s Guild was not what I expected it to be. A walled and sprawling edifice of clashing Western and Eastern architectural styles, it was a fortress in miniature. A blue and white tiled mosaic of the Guild’s symbol, a sword crossed over a burning torch, was displayed proudly above a large arch that opened the compound to the busy public. Through this, I could see a large squat keep, past a courtyard of graveled stone. The keep seemed to be more a hodgepodge collection of cut yellow stone than a proper construction. Behind this crude construction, a wooden pagoda with golden tiles rose elegantly upwards toward the sky.

A small group of three, of what I assumed to be adventurers, stood just outside the threshold and seemed to be having a heated discussion.

“That is the last time I’m doing a job in the sewers, this is not what I signed up for,” moaned a rather vexed diminutive woman, with her hands on her hips. Freckled and pale in complexion, her face was stained with the color of emotion. “If I wanted to trudge through muck, I would have stayed at the farm! Heavens, even though I spent half a day washing I can still smell it!”

Garbed in dull gray robes and a wide broad-brimmed hat, she had a long wooden staff, festooned with fetishes and gems. A magic user, if I were to make a guess.

“Don’t be like that. I told you before, Tally, and for the umpteenth time, we need to do jobs like these to get some success under our belt. Look right, we knock out a few more easy jobs, talk to Aylin, then we do better stuff once we get the Bronze. You know how things is…” replied a middle-aged and dejected-looking man, his voice frayed with annoyance born from a long-time association. His stained rust-splotched coat-of-plate and notched weaponry gave him a decidedly disheveled appearance. In stark contrast, he wore a necklace featuring a large red gem. A ruby, at my best guess, that hung prominently at his front. Although roughly cut, the gem was clearly valuable, showcased on a fine chain of untarnished silver. It seemed wasted on him, like fine jewels on a pig, and for a moment, the temptation to rip it from his neck was almost overwhelming.

A tall man, whipcord thin, suggested in a reedy voice, “I’m with Tally on this one, Gers, I’d rather ride out a bit into the Wastes than mess about in the sewers. It’s that time of year, right? They say the Alchemist in the basement always wants those horns and offers good money for ‘em.”

“Hiring mounts’ll cost us a pretty penny. More trouble than it’s worth, hunting those three-eyed freaks. Finding ‘em is also half the problem. Can’t read the sands like I can the forests of home. Remember Del and his crew? They went out like yesterday, came back empty-handed, the lot of ‘em. I say keep things steady, keep things slow. It ain’t the best job, but it's safe, if not a little dirty,” explained Gers, sighing as he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“Tell me, where is the man who promised me the good and easy life in the City of Gold, eh? Tell me…” shrilled the one called Tally, in complaint.

“Not for that promise did you follow Gers, Tally…” started the tall, thin man.

"Excuse me," I chose to interject, flashing my most convincing, fabricated smile. "Is this the Adventurer's Guild?"

"What tipped you off? The massive, glaring crossed sword and torch?" the small woman retorted, directing her annoyance squarely at me.

"Tally..." Gers cautioned, rubbing at a spot behind his neck.

Ignoring the woman, I decided to instead focus on the mercenary pauper. “The name is Gilgamesh, a fellow adventurer. If you would be so kind, could you tell me where I can find the job board? I am still new to this city…”

Taking off a beaten spangenhelm that had seen better days, he addressed me. “Pleasure to meetcha. Names Gersal. Over there in that building is where you can find the copper and bronze rank jobs,” explained Gersal, pointing at the squat yellow keep. “I don’t think you are of the Iron or Silver, but just’n case, the Tower of Triumph is where you can find the higher-ranked requests. Bloody self-aggrandizing name if you ask me though…” he added, pointing at the Pagoda.

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Gersal looked like he was about to say something else, but he was beaten to it by the other member of the group. “What happened to you? Looks like you got in a fight with a pack of animals. I thought we had it bad with sewer work… bloody giant rats…” the tall one commented.

“Indeed. I had a run-in with a few violent animals, the bipedal sort. Anyway, thank you for answering my questions. It is most appreciated,” I said grinning. Giving them all a small formal bow, I moved off. Behind me, Zariyah hurriedly mimicked my actions and chased after me.

There was a crunch of gravel underfoot as we crossed the courtyard. We passed by several groups, much like Gersal’s, on the way to the yellow keep, their equipment and composition as varied as the flowers in the field. Some seemed to be veterans of campaigns and adventurers long forgotten, grizzled men holding old weapons and donning utilitarian and well-maintained armor. Others were younger, their gear freshly forged and newly bought. The weapons at their waists they wore awkwardly, the tools of their trade looking more the part of a costume. The assortment did not end there, for several parties featured eclectic mixes of species. Dwarves and Beastkin, even a dark-skinned elf, were peppered about here and there. It was quite the tapestry of diversity. I was tempted to use Identify on the more interesting individuals, but with my magical reserves at about half, I decided against it.

Stepping through the open doors into the main hall designated for lower-ranked adventurers brought a welcome surprise. The hall's interior offered a refreshing coolness, a stark contrast to the outside's balmy heat, and was alive with the sound of bustling activity. Along the hall's length, long tables and benches provided spaces for various adventurers to exchange tales, enjoy refreshments, or simply unwind. The serving staff, dressed in white shirts with billowing sleeves and necklines, complemented by black waistcoats, moved through the throng, attentive and efficient.

At the hall's far end, pink marble counters staffed by the Guild’s personnel dealt with a neatly formed queue of people waiting patiently for their turn. Each person handed a miscellany of items to the Guild staff, including plants - root, stem, and flower, rocks, an ancient clay pot, and body parts wrapped in rough cloth. In exchange, they received money and a polite smile.

To the right, a considerable gathering clustered around a large notice board that dominated its corner. This must be, of course, the job board. I contemplated checking out the latest postings, but the crowd's size, which seemed to swell by the moment, dissuaded me from this course. Moreover, after a brief reflection, I concluded that it wouldn't be appropriate to select jobs without consulting my companions first for their input.

Even though the group was not run by a majority vote, I knew well enough that people appreciated being consulted. It made them feel important.

Instead, opting for a moment’s pause, I decided to take a seat. I sat with Zariyah next to me. An awkward silence grew between us, creating a wall. Seeking to keep my hands busy, I took a slate tablet that I assumed to be today’s menu. Strange symbols, curved and boxy were inscribed upon it, their meaning unclear to me.

Without looking at me directly, Zariyah broke the silence without disturbing it. Her fingers moved in a pattern I could decipher now without the age of magic, Can you read it?

I never had the chance to learn, my own fingers waggled clumsily in reply.

She looked at me in puzzlement, and I went through the motions again.

You are terrible, she smiled, biting down on her lower lip to stop the expression from spreading. Of course, you never had the chance to learn. I’ll read it for you.

This world’s sign-language was mainly phonetic, with only a few words baked into specific gestures, making it easier to learn. I had observed her in our time together, drinking deep of her detail. I never truly could forget the details that Identify revealed to me. It was a growing catalog of memories, magically seared into my mind, ranging from the most trivial items to the mightiest foes I had faced. The information remained as clear in the present as it was the first time I cast the spell.

However, I would have to agree with her that my execution must have been rather bad.

No need, just order something for you and me. Something light, was my halting response. Or rather you tell me what I should order, I added a little clumsily.

In the end, it had taken me three tries to actually convey my meaning. I could have just spoken to her, she was mute, not deaf, but a part of me did not want to break the silence. It was a shared moment, an island for two in the noise of the busy establishment.

I’ll have the day’s set and you should do the same. Watered wine if it pleases you, was her reply.

A server came, a young girl with curly orange hair and a wide beaming smile. “What will you two be having then,” was her cheerful inquiry that broke our private moment.

Her infectious expression caused me to smile back in reflex. “Two of the day’s set, and watered wine for the both of us, if you would be so kind,” I ordered.

Acknowledging and repeating my order she gave us another sunny smile and started to move away.

“A moment please…” I stopped, grabbing her lower arm.

This time the smile she sent my way was forced. “Can I get you anything else,” she asked primly, looking at my hand as if it were a venomous snake.

“Apologies,” I said as placatingly as possible, slowly releasing her arm. “But where might I find a certain Vincenzio the Alchemist?”

“You’ll find Vince in the basement, over there, down the stairs,” the serving girl answered in almost a huff. “Now, if you will excuse me,” she finished, turning up her nose in annoyance as she made her exit.

I looked at Zariyah, seeing the hint of a barely repressed mocking smile at the corner of her lips. “Not a word,” I warned irritably.