The sun appeared on the horizon, ushering in a new day for Solade and for Red a new chance at life. He hurried back to the Classy Slums from the Reeking Valley. When the tall young man arrived, the unlicensed mages had already begun their maintenance work. He showed the mages the card he'd received from the drunk and asked them where the location described on the card was.
Red couldn’t read, so to do things like find an address, he needed to help.
The unlicensed mages weren’t like the people from The Hole or the Reeking Valley, who were all but cynical about the problems of others and chose to help Red find the building personally. Red tried to hug the mages in thanks, but they sparked magic from their palms and made him back off, not wanting to be crushed in an embrace by such a large man.
The mages made do with a simple handshake which Red vigorously shook, making their bodies vibrate in the process.
After going their separate ways, Red took a large intake of breath before heading into the building; a lacquered wooden sign was fastened to the top of the entrance that read “Hunter’s Guild,” which Red wasn’t able to read anyways.
The interior had a simple design, but to Red, it seemed overly luxurious. He had never been in a space that was so spotless. He stood within a waiting area that was cooled by sage symbols, and there was clear water set out on a short table next to an assortment of food on a platter and a kettle of tea also sitting there for anyone to drink. Red wouldn't dare; he was too used to being unable to partake in such abundance.
He veered away from the table as much as he could, but not without taking a large whiff of the platter and tea.
Red swerved his body this way and that in order not to stain the excellent furniture, which had not a single hole or patchwork. He barely missed the smooth painted walls that held portraits of outstanding figures making heroic poses and breathed a sigh of relief as he finally made it to the front desk.
Mama always approached these desks and talked to the people behind them to sort things out. I’ll have to do the same.
A man at the desk with bagged eyes who seemed over mid-age watched Red move through their lobby like an eel trying to dodge a net all the way until Red finally made it to stand in front of him. He scratched his chin as he looked up at the tall fellow that hovered over him.
“You lost, boy?” He said in an indifferent voice.
“I’m looking for the Hunter’s guild?” Red spoke quietly, still anxious to be in such a pristine building and intimidated by the man dressed in nice clothes who exuded a fresh fragrance.
The aged man sat back in his chair with folded arms, gave Red a once over, and said simply, “Well, you found it.”
“I’m here to join!” Red said with enthusiasm.
His voice was louder than it was before. A smile spread across his face. The sight of Red smiling with the fresh bruises and cuts he had gotten from the gypsy fights made him look gruesome, but the sight didn’t seem to put off the older man.
Unenergetically, the older man reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a form then placed it between himself and Red.
“Fill this out,” the man instructed.
Red’s eyes widened at the sight of the paper with so many words. Red wondered if a whole story was written on it, but he felt almost certain no book was as long as what was written on the form.
“Um, s-sure,” Red stammered as he slid the paper off the counter with a shaky hand.
The older man looked at Red's trembling hands with a raised eyebrow and watched as sweat began to form on his bruised face. The young man flapped his collar in an attempt to cool off, his shirt moving like a bird about to take flight. Rigidly, Red stepped to the side of the desk where there sat an ink pot and quill, waiting for applicants to pick them up and write down their hopes and dreams of a better future. Red moved his hand to pick up the quill, but he couldn’t stop shaking enough to dip it accurately into the inkpot.
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What am I doing here? Red asked himself. I can’t write or read. I shouldn’t have come here!
Red stood there without moving, his hand holding the quill, hovering over the inkpot, deliberating on when would be the best time to excuse himself out of such a tense situation. His mother warned him about going to places where he didn’t belong, and now he's facing the consequences of not heeding her advice.
Before Red could make up his mind however, the older man swept the form out from under him and said, “If you can’t even fill out a piece of paper, I don’t think that this is the right place for you to work.”
Red was relieved to get out of this predicament as he watched the older man seize the application from him, but he also felt immense regret at missing such an opportunity.
This was probably for the best, he thought as his head started to hang low.
“Do you need any help?” a feminine voice said from behind Red.
The older man and Red both turned to see a young woman dressed in exquisite white religious robes standing behind Red. A long braid of blonde hair dangled from beneath a white hat of some religious significance. She had sky blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, a single button nose, and full-looking yet perky lips.
Red was about to shake his head to deny the young woman’s offer, already planning out his escape to the front door when the older man spoke up, “Already back from your quest, Hunter Vilda?”
The man dealt with her considerably kinder and better than he dealt with Red, almost seeming to have changed into a different man. His face seemed to have become years younger in her presence.
“It was simply a public relations quest at a local village, it didn’t take much time,” Vilda responded, smiling.
“Healing the sick and the poor, you truly are a saint,” The older man praised, “But why have you graced the lower branch with your presence when you yourself should be at the higher branch to turn in your quest?”
Vilda let out a light chuckle, “I grew up here. It’s not so distasteful to come back and visit.”
By the look on his face, the older man wasn’t convinced of that, but he made an effort not to express disagreement. The slums were called slums for a reason, as far as he was concerned.
“Why don’t you come on back to the dining hall and have some refreshments,” he offered her, “You must be put out after such a journey.”
“Hardly. A two day trek isn’t something I would deem a ‘journey’,” Vilda remarked, putting up her hands in a shrug. She then turned her attention at the tall young man next to them, “But who’s this?”
“Um,” the older man looked back at Red as if he had just seen him for the first time then remembered, “Ah, yes. He was just leaving.”
Red was focused on the form in the man’s hand for most of the conversation between the two Hunter associates, attempting in vain to glean some secret from the parchment as if the ability to read was going to strike him like a lightning bolt. He even combed through the memories of the Boxer who did know how to read, but in a foreign language, so there was not much help there.
“You’ve signed up to become a Hunter?” Vilda asked with a much deeper interest than was expected, dazing both the older man and Red with her enthusiasm. “You know, you have to work very hard in this branch if you want to make it as a Hunter,” Vilda explained seriously and continued after smiling, “I’m glad that the Classy Slums still has young people willing to become Hunters.”
“I think you’re mistaken…” Red murmured, scratching the side of his face, “I don’t think…”
“This oaf can’t read or write,” the older man said plainly.
Red looked off to the side, staring at the floor, embarrassed.
Mama was right, strange places are no good for me.
Vilda flinched at what the older man stated and remarked, “How is that possible? The people in the rural village of Gruitch, where I had just come back from, all could read and write. I mean, the city of Soalde is the jewel of innovation and invention. There are even schools for those here in the Classy Slums.” She looked at Red curiously, “Where exactly are you from?”
The shame grew in Red as his desire to run for the door increased with every passing second. He replied in hushed tones that neither the older man nor Vilda could understand. Vilda needed to prompt Red to say it again for them to be able to hear it.
“Reeking Valley,” Red said, speaking louder, but still looking down at the ground, his face covered in sweat and burning up from embarrassment.
“No wonder,” the older man commented, shaking his head.
“Oh,” Vilda said with realization coming over her.
The Reeking Valley wasn’t considered a part of Soalde by most.
The people who lived in such a place were sentenced to limbo with no way out. There was never a story of a grand Hunter or archmage who had come from that rancid place, and Soalde had a very long history.
Heroes never came from such destitute places.
Vilda's own inspiring story began in the Classy Slums, where she was born to a well-to-do mage couple. She was bound for a better life, whether she had become a Hunter or not.
“Sometimes we can’t change our destiny,” Vilda soothed in attempts to comfort the large young man who couldn’t meet her eyes.