“Wake up.”

“OOF...” A boot kicked him in the side, Tyr groaned and rose to all fours on the roughly man-sized mat that served as his bed these days. “Why...” The taste in his mouth was familiar, half dried saliva and the sour flavor of a night spent drinking. Again.

“It's been two months, time to do your job.”

“I paid you for--”

“Yeah? Mr. One Eyed Prince... More like One Eyed Commoner these days. Perhaps One Eyed Bastard? You think a handful of coins is enough to keep you boarded here, doing what you pleased forever? You drank it all away, you mongrel mutt. What a disgrace you are, is this really want you want out of life? What are you, twenty years old? Younger? Even a six year old child should know that you've burnt through all of your funds a hundred times, and now I own you. You are my debtor, and you'll get off your white ass and get to making me some money.”

He had known who Tyr was the moment he had stepped into the large estate that served as the headquarters for the Hunters. Half-bar, half barracks, half chapter house for the generic adventurers who couldn't find jobs anywhere else. The place was a pain in Tyr's ass, but they let him drink, some nights for free – and they rarely complained. Until now, now that the captain had legal precedent to beat the spoiled child as much as he wanted to.

If only your mother could see you now. Daito wanted to beat the boy senseless, staring down on the pitiful sight, but the mats had just been cleaned and he didn't want to get ripped into by the housekeeper again.

Tyr was alone. The others had mostly taken one good look at the place before either taking on their own jobs or departing to find some other passion. Only Okami stayed, spending his days sleeping, playing, and running about the courtyard like a lunatic with his tongue hanging out. The guild members were a big fan of him, but then again – everyone was. What kind of monster felt anything but love when they saw such a handsome boy?

For Samson, his new passion became fishing, like the others, he'd been given a decent pension – enough to live the rest of his life on. Tiber remained the head of his noble house, the only member as far as Tyr was aware, and he spent his days training or cooking at a small beach-side restaurant to pass the time. Mikhail, Ajax, and Fennic became Hunters – taking security bounties and living as they always had. Mostly on the road, returning once in a while to shake their heads at the state Tyr had been in.

Mikhail had tried to rouse him passionately, Fennic always at his back. But all that had come of it was a fight where Tyr had put the middle aged constable down and held a knife to his neck. Before realizing what he'd done, seeing that pity in their eyes.

He didn't disagree with them, Tyr wanted to get the voices out of his head by any means necessary. Oakenshot turned to the customary liquor of vodka, which had turned to dreamleaf as he chased one high and low after another. There was nothing more he could do. Every sip, his body accustomed himself to the poison, until he'd added scorpid venom to the ale. Even that hadn't lasted more than a week. It would always come back, the yawning void that dominated his heart and mind. To remind him that he had nothing, and would never have anything. Because he'd given up his chance to be anything more when he'd rejected the woman in that sword, Orpheus. He saw her face clearer than all the others for whatever reason.

“You listening? Oi, don't glare at me, young man, I won't tolerate it unlike the sycophants I'm sure you're used to skulking about with. Get the hell up.”

“Fine.” Tyr groaned, feeling an itch in his throat and the urge to vomit, one that he resisted. Rising and stretching himself, his limbs popping and grating against him. Alcohol and the various poisons or darkness magic he'd tried had a way of stunting his healing ability. Perhaps his only notable weaknesses, finding them had been novel if nothing else.

The Hunter's Guild was what one might expect to see in any adventurers association inn, just cleaner and much larger. While there was technically no guild at the center of the various others in the republic, it was an unspoken rule that the Hunter's were the 'official' guild. After all, the guilds policed the republic of monsters, but the Hunter's policed the guilds themselves. Held them accountable and, as the name might imply, hunted them when necessary. Situations like that were rare, though, so they'd take bounties like anyone else most times, guild wars cost a lot of money and were rarely worth the potential rewards.

“What's the job?” Tyr groaned again, entering the main hall and spraying water into his mouth. Still half-drunk, he drenched himself with the magic, earning a few laughs from the early risers. The torrent of water slapping at his face was refreshing, if nothing else, waking him up a bit.

Tyr glared back at them, gums itching something fierce with a want for 'the leaf'. Anything to get the nails out of his brain, maybe this was his calling. To drink swill until his mind was numb and beat on something until he could feel again. But he doubted it, he felt so pathetic and unfulfilled, and these men were made of different stuff than the other adventurers he'd run into. Not a single one of them was even remotely reminiscent of a knight like some of the other orders. They were rough, roguish characters, and equally prepared to put his knife in his gut as had already happened twice. Some of them were murderers serving their sentence at the guild as some approximate to prison labor. Because of the high rate of mortality in this guild in particular, they had to find members where they could, and despite their gods awful reputation – the republic understood a need for them and offered many concessions in return.

Guilds balanced guilds, but there were sometimes situations where a third party organization would be needed to make sure things 'go away' quietly. Did things the senate could not sully their hands with. They weren't so quite black handed as some of the Dynasty regulars had been, but few and far between of these Hunter's were clean of what Tyr perceived as sin.

“You're looking at... Who? Me? Wipe that scowl off your face, little wolf, or I'll do it for you.” A kijin member of the guild held eye contact with Tyr while the latter refused to budge. Eventually, he clucked his tongue, shaking his head at being called on his bluff and rising to his impressive stature to match Tyr's own. “Guess it's a fight then, knives or fists? Your choice little man.”

“That's enough.” The 'captain' of the local guild and second in command slapped Tyr on the back of the head hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his skull. “There, he's been dealt with. Let's go, young man.”

He dragged Tyr free from the building and threw him bodily to the ground. For a human, by all appearances, the man was strong. Tyr couldn't remember his name, though. The morning sun had risen over the city, perhaps eight in the morning. Well past dawn, bright enough to make him hiss and cover his eyes with the hand not currently propping himself up.

“These men are not the adventurers you're used to. We don't just kill monsters, many of them have killed dozens of men and they do it legally, it's our job and some of them like it just like you. I've read your file, heard reports on you, why else do you think I'd let a little bastard mutt like you stick around?”

“Watch your mouth.” Tyr growled, getting progressively more agitated at the way he was being addressed. He would never be one for roles and titles, but 'bastard' had made the burning of the nail hotter than ever. “I'm not afraid of you. You've read my file? Then you should be more aware of who you're speaking to. Call me a bastard again, you stupid fuck, and I'll peel your skin from your flesh.”

The captain lowered himself into a squat with a sigh, resting his hand on the boys shoulder and shaking his head slowly. He was a well built man, not as muscular in the sense of bulk as Tyr, but more defined by a margin. Build more like a swimmer and several inches shorter. His hair and eyes were both black, eyes angled up and slanted, finely chiseled in terms of his facial features. A decent jaw, but skin too soft and nose to straight to be much of a thug. Overall, Tyr would call him exotic – but definitely handsome. Dangerous too, if the bizarre strength of his limbs was any measure. He considered the possibility that the captain might be someone like Varinn, they smelled very similar, but wasn't overly worried. 'Captain' was in his late twenties or early thirties at best, not enough time has passed for him to truly threaten Tyr based on his observation.

“I read your file, so I know what happened to you. It's a lot of weight on a boy, but this is not the way you should be handling it. You could do some good here, or at least make some money and get your kicks by stabbing things to death. I don't care what you do, but you won't be sleeping and drinking on my dime any longer, your tab is quite extensive as it is. What do you say?” He asked, pulling Tyr to his feet effortlessly and holding out a hand.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tyr raised an eyebrow at him. “You want me to fight, I'll fight. Kill? I'll kill. Just point me in the right direction and I'll do it. But I don't need a pep talk, and I don't want one either, stranger.”

“It's Daito... And we have spoken on several occasions.” The captain replied with a mocking snort. “Let's go, we'll get you a weapon and see what you can do.”

“I don't need a weapon.” Tyr replied, raising his fists and letting the gauntlets settle on them. “These are all I need.” He showed the captain the spellbreakers he was wearing and Daito shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly satisfied with that.

Tyr had a whole dimensional ring full of random junk, but it was just that... Junk. Odd assorted enchanted weapons and armor far inferior to the spellbreakers and his mothers wargear. Enough to stab someone with, though, if necessary. Nothing would compare to Aska and he still felt like it was the only proper sword for him, even if some of the weapons weren't so bad in human terms, there was a bond there and one day he'd reforge it even greater than before. If only he knew how to smelt auronite, better mana control was necessary before he could do that.

Daito just stared at him with a vaguely amused look on his face. “Understood. But let's say you meet a creature with a hard shell, or... A man that's hardier than you are? What will you do?”

“Punch it as hard as I can. Continue punching it until it dies, or I do.”

“...”

“It's worked just fine for me in the past, I'm not wet around the ears, old man. I've killed more men than you've ever known.”

There wasn't much more to say, Daito had known types like Tyr, just not quite so... Thick in the head, edgy, uncouth and wrathful beyond belief. Perhaps it was a symptom of someone raised as a primus, convinced that they were until it was all taken away. Everybody around was well aware of the scandal, but few would actually recognize the boy properly. Without his file, one would've never been able to, and getting the amount of information he had took rare connections, considering the guild manager protecting him. Daito, however, had known the boy for his whole life, and it was time to see just how valuable this 'talent' of his, if there was any to speak of.

Calculative. Thorough. Ruthless. Whether it be human, monster, or some mix of both, the kid got the job done with incredible efficiency. He had a powerful magical beast as a partner, which helped, but he'd earned his silver rank and might be ready to progress to the next. Word was that he'd been offered it and had refused. Not uncommon considering the strings attached and his position at the time, but Daito didn't enforce contracts on his men. Things were different in the republic and it was better that way, adventurers became adventurers because they wanted freedom. The idea that the stronger you got the more restrictions should placed on you was ridiculous.

Tyr took his opportunity to take stock of the city, having not left the guild since he'd finally found the place that would entertain him the most.

The streets became richer and more luxurious the further one went from the port. Compared to any of the other modern nations, it was the opposite of how things normally were. The money stayed close to where said money was made, but the republic was different. In places. Every state was so unique to have their own cultures and idiosyncrasy between them. A miracle of society, if you will, all bound together under the 'gift of democracy' and rampant individualism. Daito was half kijin, few places would accept him at all if they knew his background. Nobody did, though, it would've been impossible to tell unless one had real experience with the race or caught him with blood magic. And he'd never claim anything but human heritage if any at all. Questions like that weren't so common in the republic, so he stayed.

This was a place of diversity, wealth, and inclusivity. Men and women worked together as equals regardless of race for the most part. Identities were accepted and promoted beyond the norm, anything or anyone that stood to benefit society was welcome. Even magic. Tyr observed how common magic was in this nation. Not quite so rife as in Amistad, but more so in its own way. In truth, it couldn't hold a candle to the glory of the 'mage state', but it came damn close. Using magic to solve the most simple of mundane tasks in the most genius manner. In the periphery, the homes there had proper yards, stretches of grass and fire pits designed more for celebration or relaxation. This would seem irrelevant, useless exposition in an otherwise completely normal city of streets turned upwards toward the hills and mountains that framed coastline.

But not so, there was a light drizzle in the air as they reached the outer district. Tyr and Daito both donned their cloaks and huddled beneath them. It was still warm in the autumn, but it was worth it just to prevent their boots getting wet. A man waved to them, a telurian by the looks of him, sitting beside his pit of lazy flame, and everything around him was dry. But he was no mage, it was as if even the most common of items were enchanted and available at a decent price.

And they were. Tyr could feel the enchanted runes of various races all around them. Beneath the streets, plain visible on the walls of houses, those fire pits, the eaves and shutters. Everywhere had extremely specific, but weak enchantments, which wasn't necessarily bad. After all, the runes for keeping water off an object weren't exactly complicated, but they were indeed useful. Much cost for upkeep could be saved if weather or erosion was no longer a risk. Allowing properties to retain their value longer, taller buildings and more beautified domiciles with their own trees and gardens.

Here, for example, was a rune of warding insects off a wooden pillar that supported the roof of a porch. Not one to keep it standing eternal, but just enough to ensure that time was its only enemy rather than termites or carpenter bees.

“Do you enchant everything here?” Tyr asked of Daito. Runes weren't rare in Haran, but having a part of your house enchanted needed a proper reason or utility, something the colleges would agree to before accepting the job. They'd collect a donation and provide that which was necessary, but only that which was necessary. The palace and various castles were exceptions, but the enchantments were often singular. They had a purpose, to fortify and protect. Convenience for convenience sake was not a part of Harani culture whatsoever, they were grim and utilitarian and a common man would rather prefer magic stay out of their simple lives.

“If someone can afford it, sure. People in some successor states revere magic as the answer to all problems, as the ultimate goal, like in your Amistad.” Daito dragged him into a stable on the outskirts of the city and pulled two horses out after a familiar greeting with the stable boy. “Here, in the republic, it's a means of convenience. To make life easier. The mage association in Haran is a regulatory agency, the colleges as you call them, their checks and balances overseen by the crown and churches, they balance themselves and are checked by the churches. In Lyra, it's similar, in a way. They are checked by themselves and by all the guilds. Put to better use, in my opinion, it's just another service and part of the economy.”

For all intents and purposes, he explained, the mage association was like any other guild. Except their vocation wasn't primarily combat, it was more akin to a gathering of artisans. Mages who enchanted and carved runes for a fee, monitored dungeons and provided their aid where possible like any other guild. A bastardized version between that which existed in Amistad and that in Haran, though mostly craftsmen and soft handed academics. Mages with a predilection for violence joined a guild instead, they weren't forced to join any magic specific organization like college mages were.

Because of this, many things in the republic were enchanted if one could afford it. Plates that cleaned themselves, chairs that served a dual purpose as umbrellas. Simple commercialism. Amistad could do great and terrible things, but it was more normalized and less bourgeois in the republic. Mages weren't given free reign to regulate and rule, but they weren't censored and monitored much either, or considered possible threats in the future, as in the twin empires and a few other states believed. In Amistad, mages ruled, and in the empires it was obvious – they were civil servants and practically prisoners from birth. But here, mages were just people and it was no more or less valid a vocation as any other. Those who got out of line were simply executed by whatever guild accepted their contract and so the cycle kept on, as it was wont to.

Profit borne motivations gave the mages in the republic a sense of innovation that existed nowhere else, even over Amistad. The demons of rampant capitalism were many, but here could be seen the benefits of the laissez-faire. Like nowhere else, even middle class citizens could afford to hire mages to enchant their homes or utilities. To ward against the extremes of cold and warmth, benefit their farms and plantations, keep their sheep and goats so common in the country free from pests and disease. Heal sick children instead of relying on traditional medicine or the churches. It was amazing how creative they were, giving Tyr a new consideration of what enchantment was capable of.

It didn't have to be flashy, you didn't have to be some unparalleled genius, sometimes ingenuity could solve a problem without revolving around the idea that you had to be 'the best'. Or copy the legacy of another. Lyra did that better than anyone else, giving him a sense of how important individualism might actually be.