Hall Master Ren soon returns and hands me a new card, F-rank.

“Good work, kiddo. You are now a part of the Adventurers’ Guild.” He rummages inside a drawer and pulls out a relatively thin book. “Guild Regulations.” He hands it to me, and I take it with interest. “Everything you need to know is outlined in there. But I can go over some key stuff right now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great, Hall Master.”

He nods, a pleased look on his face, “As an F-rank adventurer, you do not have any obligations towards the Guild. As an example, we won’t call on you for emergency situations, like a break. You can pick any delves or missions that are F-grade, but you will need to get approval from an attendant. You are allowed to go on E-grade delves or missions only with an appropriate party.”

He starts to tap on the desk, most likely trying to recall any more useful information. I really rattled him...

“Right, you are aware that your account with us is tax free, right?” I nod. “Good, good...” Some more tapping and a sigh. “Anything you want to ask, Lucius?”

I make a wide smile. “I am still feeling fresh, how about that spar?” I clear my throat. “I might have held back the first time.”

He roars out a laugh. “Let’s go you little shit. Better impress, or I am taking that card back.” I laugh with him, at a less impressive volume.

As we walk to an arena, I attempt to rationalize my own actions to myself. I cannot display my full capabilities outright, and I cannot appear average. I need to prove myself so I can more easily access the more dangerous dungeons. I need to interact with the people of this world, ingrain myself, get to know them, be one of them. Without truly revealing myself. That must not happen right now. Justifying my approach using statistics, and projections, and sociological studies, and a hundred other factors, does nothing to soothe my mood. However you look at it, I am taking advantage of the hall master and the Guild. For the greater good... Another sin to bear.

A jolly slap focuses me back to the present. “All out this time!”

“Yes, sir!”

I grab a training shortsword and take my place. Hall Master Ren has chosen a normal-looking double-edged sword, slightly longer than mine.

He smirks. I dash forward, kicking back a wave of sand. His smirk fades.

He meets me half-way with an advance of his own. Our swords clash and propel one another away, a metallic clang echoing around the space.

Swift recovery and another strike, trying to catch his exposed core. He parries. My blade slides and slips on the blocking sword face.

Thrust towards my neck. Slip down and slash at his leg.

He lifts, dodging my strike, and stomps. I am battered by the subsequent cloud of sand.

Eyes closed. Downwards swipe for my left shoulder. Side roll. Spring up.

Slash at my ribs. Deflect up. I thrust at his core again. My blade is driven down by his free hand.

Drop the sword and jump, narrowly avoiding another downward hit. Wipe at my eyes, fruitlessly.

He doesn’t let me try for long, rushing in for a stab at my chest.

Continue retreating back, pretending I don’t notice his approach, but letting him catch up to me.

Before the tip can connect, I dodge left and wrap my hands around his arm.

Using his momentum, I twist around and put him in an arm bar.

Strength output at high-level D-rank. Lock.

I fail to even move the arm, just hanging on him like a long scarf blowing in the wind. Might as well be a baseline human trying to bend an I-beam.

“Nasty. Someone on your level, and that arm is gone.”

I release him and drop to the ground, gently rubbing at my eyes.

“Don’t rub ‘em!” He pulls out a bottle of water. “Here.” And starts tipping it over my face.

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“Good fight, kiddo.” I blink a few times, my eyes finally free of debris. “Where’d you learn that?”

There are many grappling moves, incorporated in various martial arts in this world. It’s not that big of a stretch.

“Books, and lots of sparring with my teacher. I decided that if I didn’t have spells, I’ll at least have technique.”

“Limited in dungeons, but you’ll find the occasional use,” he reasons.

“Why’d you go easy the first time we fought?”

I scratch the back of my head. “I haven’t fought anyone else but my teacher, so...”

He smiles at me and slaps my shoulder, pretty hard. “Don’t underestimate this old man. I am as tough as they come.” He flexes his muscles, and I hear some of the stitches in his clothes giving up.

“Yes, sir!”

He nods his head a couple of times. “Well, good spar.” He looks bashful. “If you want... we could spar again from time to time, teach you a few things. I help out lots of adventurers. But it’s okay if—”

Before he can finish, I interrupt him, “I would be honored, Hall Master.” These spars have been nice, and the data I get is invaluable. Plus, he seems to enjoy this... Least I can do.

“Good man.” He contemplates for a bit. “Again, sorry about before, kiddo.”

I smile and wave my hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, Hall Master.” Change of topic time. “I was wondering, where could I get some equipment now that I am an adventurer? You must know the best places.”

“The Guild has contracts with pretty much every smith and armorer in the city, I know just the gal. You have more than enough in your account to get a nice sword and some light armor, considering the hefty discount for being a member.”

“Thank you, sir. I need to be ready for my first delve.”

“That you do. Let me write down the address and some directions for you.”

With that done, we part ways. His mood is improved. I’ll take it...

***

The relatively short walk takes me to an unassuming stone building. Large single-story, darkened windows, and a closed wooden door, reinforced with iron bracing. A tall stack is spewing a cloud of heat. Magically powered forges are good for the environment. Well, not like it would affect the supercharged inhabitants anyway, and I can scrub the atmosphere in a month. Still conscientious though.

I regard the modest entrance, the only identifying mark is the word etched above the door, simply reading ‘Smithy’. No need for more, her reputation precedes her. Khirfin {Best approximation: ‘Hrumindotter’ (Similar convention)} left the Dwarven Empire forty-seven years ago due to... differences in mindset. Traveled around and eventually settled here, supplying adventurers and honing her craft. She is particularly talented at making magical weaponry.

I grip the simple knocker and rap twice. The high-pitched sound is somehow amplified and almost entirely directed inside the workshop.

After a moment, an exasperated voice projects out from within, “What are ya standing out there for. Come on in already.”

I inhale sharply and brace myself, pushing open the heavy door. Unbearable heat immediately blows at my face. The sound of clanging metal ricochets around the spacious floor, barely muffled by racks filled with various materials and benches stacked with eclectic tools.

The dwarven woman is forging a blade. It’s glowing white hot and not even close to being done, just a stock of square bar with some divots in it. She has blonde hair, tied in a long ponytail. It glistens in the muted fire of the forge like strands of gold running down her back. Mighty arms are heaving a hammer with no effort. Muscles, in a forearm as thick as my leg, are barely flexing with each strike.

She allows herself a moment of distraction to glimpse in my direction. Her onyx eyes regard me with mild curiosity, and she quickly returns to her task. Her hammer slips as she does a double take, curiosity replaced with surprise.

“Bah.” She puts away the hammer and tongs she was using on a nearby bench, grabs the scorching metal with her now free hand and chucks it back in the forge.

“Ya lost or somethin’, sonny?” The casual phrasing and an intimidating appearance are a stark juxtaposition to her mellow voice.

“No, {Best approximation: ‘ma’am’ (Similar title used in dwarven culture, usually when referring to an older woman)}. I would like to buy some equipment.” Seems appropriate, she is older than me. Actual me.

A melodic laugh escapes her lips. “Awfully polite, ain’t we. Whatcha lookin’ for?”

I pull out my adventurer’s card with barely concealed pride and present it. “I just became a member of the Guild, and I am looking for a full set. A shortsword and light armor.”

Khirfin snaps her fingers and the forge extinguishes. With its light receding, so does the heat.

She waves me to follow and goes towards a side door. “Come on, let’s see what I can find ya.”

I am taken to another part of the smithy, the storage room. Myriad weapons adorn the walls. Next to them, an army of stands hold diverse suits of armor, their empty helmets staring at the center of the space. This room is nowhere near as cramped as the work floor, and there is much more light coming in through large windows.

The smith abruptly turns around, stopping me in my tracks, and starts circling me. Her piercing gaze is examining every part of my body. I mock slight embarrassment. Inwardly, I am fascinated seeing a master at work.

“Show me a simple strike. Full power.”

I oblige, calibrating to D-rank levels again.

She whistles, ringing my ears. “Sure ya just joined, sonny?” She shoots me a hungry look. “Don’t want a commission?”

“I would love to, ma’am, but I don’t have enough coin for anything like that.”

She looks unconvinced. “Bah, who cares. I’ll give ya a discount. Did that giant oaf Ren send ya here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He could always tell that one.” She nods, satisfied. “I’ll make ya the good stuff for half what he told ya I’d charge.”

“I couldn’t possi—”

“I ain’t askin’, sonny.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“There’s a nice place down the road.” She makes a vague gesture that pinpoints the establishment she meant with frightening accuracy, “Go have lunch or somethin’.” She quickly interjects, “Is it lunch yet? I’m crap at keepin’ time.” I nod. “Go eat, and gimme at least two hours.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Alright, alright. Now piss off. Ya already look like yer boiled.”

I give my thanks again and run out. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to watch from inside, and the smithy is enchanted for privacy. But I secretly left a little observer inside. This will be interesting.