Cindi pulled her hose back over her legs and reattached her leather armor. Banst lay motionless in the aftermath of her deeply expressed gratitude. As the sun rose, its first light illuminated the collective efforts of the porters who were completing their tasks. Mana stones were packed away, the deceased were covered for transport, and injured Adventurers were healed enough to move again.
“I’m leaving,” Cindi said, bidding farewell without looking back. “Let’s pretend things are as they were before—you, someone I betrayed and tried to trap, and me, the girl in service to the nobles who are after you.” Her eyes became downcast, the wood of the wagon her focus. “…I’m no more than a servant; that’s what I am.” With a heavy sigh and a step down, Cindi dropped from the wagon and departed, leaving Banst alone.
A bell rang repeatedly. “Hear me, Adventurers,” shouted an announcement from the quest leadership. “All materials and our fallen comrades are ready for transport! The quest is now complete. The quest report has already been sent to the guild, and your payment awaits you at the receptionist desk!” The crier repeated this three times before stowing away the bell.
En masse, the Adventurers began filling the area where the wagons and carriages were parked, with the wagons placed further away to grant the nobles the privilege of not being too near the commoners.
Upon spotting them, Banst hastily pulled up his pants and adjusted his clothes, scrambling to gather his iron armor that lay in pieces after Cindi had passionately snatched and thrown them off his body. Never had he dealt with such a forward woman. A self-mocking feeling washed over him as he couldn't recall the last time he had been with a woman.
None had the energy to discriminate against the Weakest Adventurer as Adventurers of commoner background began climbing into his wagon, tired and wanting none else but to return home. Despite their fatigue, an exciting buzz lingered around a group of them - four Adventurers were sharing tales of the battle. Banst kept to himself, stacking and tying his iron armor for ease of transport. Nevertheless, he soon perked up at the discussion unfolding nearby.
“Does anyone know who that mighty hero was?” an Adventurer asked, flushed as he thought of the hero who had saved their commoner ranks during the battle.
“It was a noble, obviously,” answered another.
One of them sighed, “Who else could kill that many goblins alone? He even took out one of the black-eyed ones—one of the ‘evil’ ones.” There was a shared notion among the Adventurers not to say the word “demon,” as if uttering it would bring bad luck. In truth, no one wanted to entertain the thought of demons residing in Marlinen; such an ominous occurrence would not bode well for the kingdom.
“Why was he wearing cheap iron armor?” one Adventurer wondered aloud. “My cousins own better-quality armor than that, for when monsters come around their farm.”
Banst felt a sting of embarrassment, realizing they were discussing him. He had been wearing the same basic armor since he started as an Adventurer.
“Who knows?” responded his companion with a shrug. “His armor might be cheap, but his skills aren’t. It was as if he didn’t get tired. I swear, he never slowed down!”
“Doesn’t that look like the same kind of armor?” an Adventurer remarked, pointing at the armor bundle in Banst’s hands.
“Adventurer Banst…?” another Adventurer muttered, brow furrowed as he focused on the thin Adventurer.
Silence settled around the wagon. Their attention made Banst withdraw inwardly. He didn’t want to be found out like this. There was no way to explain how he had become such a skilled fighter so suddenly after spending years as the “Weakest Adventurer”. However, his worries were in vain. The idea of Banst being a talented fighter was too tall a tale.
The whole group of Adventurers erupted in laughter.
“Can you imagine?” one cried out, teary-eyed, “Adventurer Banst—a swordsman capable of killing a group of goblins on his own?!”
“Yeah, and I saw the queen naked last night!” joked another Adventurer.
At once, jokes were tossed about like children playing with a ball, their laughter unable to stop.
One Adventurer shouted, “If Banst has the sword skill to rival a noble, then I am a titled Hero!”
A thrumming sensation caused Banst’s head to tremble. The word “Hero” had awakened foreign memories stored in his mind, though he couldn't fathom why. The tradition of bestowing the title “Hero” originated after the Demon King was vanquished by the heroes of that era. Today, individuals honored with the title “Hero” were universally regarded as the mightiest beings on the continent. This tradition transcended cultural boundaries, extending to elves and dwarves, each with their own powerful “Heroes.”
Banst couldn’t explain his mind’s reaction, lacking the proper memory of what he had experienced in that chest in the burned-down village.
The sun had moved to the other side of the sky by the time the Adventurers involved in the border defense arrived back in the city. All the commoners riding wagons had to dismount at the stables, while the carriages carried the nobles directly to the guild. This arrangement allowed the nobles to complete their business with the guild before the commoners arrived.
Banst knew he would have to wait in line for some time but didn't care. His pockets lacked coin, and he would be willing to do much worse than stand in line to get it. However, his journey through the city back to the Adventurers Guild started off strangely.
“Fancy bit of fighting you did back at the battle, Adventurer Banst.”
Leaning on a wooden post at the stables, a young man around Banst’s age, with slicked-back hair and impish eyes that drooped, had a piece of straw in his mouth. He wore leather armor that seemed too clean to have been involved in such a brutal battle with the goblins, and daggers on his waist that seemed even cleaner.
“Adventurer Fenwick,” Banst greeted cordially, his stare even.
Adventurer Fenwick Baker, otherwise known as “Freeloading Fenwick.” If Banst was the “Weakest Adventurer,” then Fenwick would be titled the “Most Unreliable” or more commonly, "Freeloading Adventurer." Never in the mood to work hard, Fenwick slacked off whenever he could when no one was watching. He was so adept at slacking off that it was hard to catch him doing it. Most Adventurers who had teamed up with him claimed to have seen him doing things, but at the same time, they would swear that he didn’t do anything at all!
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Fenwick complimented, a smirk on his face that hardly ever left it. Banst would bet that he even smirked when he slept.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Banst responded, feigning ignorance and beginning to sweat. Did Fenwick know that it was Banst who had turned the tide of battle? Banst shook his head. If the other Adventurers didn’t see his face, there was no way Fenwick did.
That damn smirk, Banst thought as he gave a final, narrow-eyed glance at Fenwick’s oval-shaped face. He smirks too much!
“I’m always willing to team up with promising Adventurers!” Fenwick called out lovingly. A promising Adventurer was too tantalizing a prospect to not try and freeload off of for Fenwick.
Banst ignored him and went on to the guild, wondering if Cindi was the one spreading the news of his oddly skillful sword fighting. Perhaps he shouldn’t have given in to her embrace. In any case, the true skilled swordsman was Banst’s possessed armor, not him. If he were tested, he would pass and remain as the Weakest Adventurer.
Back at the guild lobby, Banst stood in line in front of the receptionist desk, he whispered to his armor, “Soul of Tereb, are you there?”
“Yes, master,” the armor spoke, its voice hollow. Others looked in Banst’s direction at the sound.
“Quiet down,” Banst whispered with intensity.
“Your wish is my command, Master,” the armor whispered, its voice resonating in the helmet alone. No longer could anyone hear him.
“That’s better. Now, tell me of Gerad and Herek. Inform me of their schemes and whether their plots extended beyond the border quest.”
“I apologize, Master. I have no memory of when I was alive. Only my skills remain.”
Banst sucked at his teeth. “How disappointing…”
“Coward!” a disgruntled voice grunted.
Outside the line stood a handsome young man with blonde hair, pointing at Banst and wearing a bycocket hat. He shouted, “You are the reason my friend died!”
“Adventurer Isac Colyne,” Banst acknowledged, his brow creased. “Refrain from throwing baseless accusations.”
Other Adventurers peered over at them. There was nothing else for them to do while in line but to watch, some grateful for the entertainment.
“Tereb Tuldric,” Isac seethed, closing the distance between him and Banst to mere inches, face to face. “He died because he was chasing you!”
“Why would he be chasing me?” Banst inquired, his face blank, waiting for Isac to reveal the plot to have Banst murdered.
“That’s because…” Isac hesitated, his words remaining locked inside him.
“Master, you are about to be attacked,” warned Banst’s armor.
Banst locked onto Isac’s twitching hand and watched as Isac swung a slap. Banst had already stepped to the side, allowing Isac to miss and trip onto the floor.
A few gasps came from the others in line.
An astonished expression lit up Banst’s face as he realized the armor had the capability to warn him of danger.
“You dare dodge my strike?” Isac fumed, reddening as he picked himself up off the floor. “A commoner with the gall to avoid a noble’s wrath?!”
“Halt, both of you!” Banst and Isac saw Helena in her black formal wear, her expression stern. Fessi was at the desk next to her, appearing worried over Isac. The sight of Helena was akin to the sight of a fair judge, a representative of true justice.
“There is no fighting in the guild,” Helena spoke as if she were reading from the rulebook. Also, there was a ban on fighting outside the guild as well. Any guild member who would harm another would be reviewed, and if found guilty of misconduct, could face expulsion or worse - imprisonment. Most local governments in human territory adhered to the rulings of the Adventurer Guilds.
There was only one way to fight another guild member.
“Spar with me,” Isac challenged, his eyes burning as he got up to stare Banst in his gray eyes. “Outside in the training yard, on the dueling stage - spar with me.” Every Adventurer Guild had training facilities to foster improvement in their members. There was also a training stage that most Adventurers called the dueling stage, since that was where most Adventurers would settle their disputes when words failed them.
However, in all things, there were loopholes. Common Adventurers like Banst, who had no backing or status, were susceptible to being targeted outside the guild. If they attempted to expose schemes against them, it became their word against guild members who were typically of higher rank. Though harming a fellow member was still a risky endeavor, suspicions weakened when the victims were powerless.
“I refuse,” Banst scoffed, thinking Isac was crazy for challenging him.
“Coward!” Isac nearly screamed.
“You are Wolf-Ranked, Adventurer Isac, and I am Rabbit-Ranked. In what world would this be called fair, you hounding me for a fight?” Other Adventurers gave Isac scrutinizing stares, knowing that Banst, no matter if he was a “coward,” had a point. A higher-ranked Adventurer, especially someone two ranks above, challenging a lower-ranked Adventurer was not only bad sportsmanship, but it was also dishonorable.
“Do you think you can run forever…?” Isac hissed under his breath, his eyes veined from glaring too hard at Banst.
“No need for threats,” Banst sighed, “I already know you nobles have your ways to deal with us lowly commoners.”
At his words, the commoner Adventurers narrowed their eyes at Isac, while those of noble birth coughed awkwardly or looked away.
“Openly threatening a fellow Adventurer…?!” Helena cried out, outraged. “We’ll see how the administrative council feels about this, Adventurer Isac!” She glared at the handsome youth before abruptly shuffling toward a flight of stairs that led to the higher floors where those who ran the guild met to discuss guild business.
“No, I wasn’t…!” Isac tried to come up with an excuse, but Helena had already started to climb the stairs. “Wait a moment!” He’d only wanted to avenge his friend, and his emotions had caused him to act irrationally. Wasting no time, he gave chase but not without throwing an ugly stare at Banst.
Banst smirked as he continued to wait in line. “Call me a coward, the emotional fool,” he scoffed and chuckled, amused at the thought of the trouble Isac would fall into. Eventually, Banst made it to the front where the strawberry-blond girl sat, her eyes unwelcoming as he stood before her.
“Ahem,” Banst coughed, “I am here to turn in the quest: Border Defense against a Goblin Horde.”
A purse of coins flopped onto the desk unceremoniously, and Fessi stared at him without emotion. Nevertheless, Banst grabbed at it with both hands like a monkey receiving food and began snickering, prompting Fessi to withdraw with her face twisted in disgust.
“I won’t have to go hungry tonight,” Banst purred, petting the coin purse lovingly.
“Pathetic,” Fessi muttered under her breath. That was why she preferred noble Adventurers. They never spoke in such a needy way like peasants.
***
Above the lobby of the Adventurers Guild, in the upper floors, a meeting was taking place with the guild leaders. Silence had taken over the room. No word could be uttered after someone had placed a blackened mana stone upon the round table before them.
“They say the stone was taken out of a goblin with black eyes,” announced one of the executive administrators.
“Demon magic…!” sputtered Vice Branch Master Sindle as soon as she got close enough to the black mana stone to feel its malevolent aura.
“Peace, Vice Branch Master,” the Branch Master, Goltian, entreated. “We need not speak of demons so close to the event that is soon to take place.”
Sindle withdrew her show of angst, though it remained clawing at her inside. “Of course…”
“Perhaps we should postpone the date our foreign visitors are to arrive,” suggested one of the executives.
Another administrator agreed, “It would be best to meet them at our best instead of when…” his eyes fell upon the mana stone’s blackened surface, “…in a vulnerable situation.”
Goltian scratched his wide jaw before deciding. “No, we cannot show weakness in that regard. We need their answers and their pledge for continual peace.” His deep voice only enhanced the authority with which he spoke. “Those elves have a lot to answer for. No need to reveal the chink in our armor when we’ve already exposed theirs.”