The wood creaked underneath his feet.

Jack had tried to make himself as quiet as possible, but there was only so much he could do if the boards gave him away. It was dawn, so most of the guards were asleep. But he saw a few lanterns in the distance near the ship.

Jack patiently waited for both of the lights to disappear behind the ship, then he quickly rushed up the ramp.

The inside ship wasn’t well lit, hiding would be pretty easy, besides, no one would bother checking, because a spell would be cast to make sure all the cargo was on board, not to make sure there were stowaways.

He found a comfortable spot between two barrels of rum, and sat down. He had no food with him. Hopefully he would be able to get some when the ship arrived at its destination.

Jack stared at his bloody shovel, thinking about what he had done. He had let his anger get the best of him. There was no real evidence that the Aldarians had actually murdered his family. Yet he felt a strong sensation that they had indeed done it.

What was his name? Cal, Carl, Caleb…

He felt the ship begin to move.

No… not right now. Now he needed to sleep. Jack yawned and laid on his side. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

He woke to the rapid sound of footsteps above him. Light seeped through the spaces in the wood above him.

Jack scrambled to his feet. He needed to get off. Now.

He frantically looked for an exit. He had made the foolish mistake of not planning his exit last night.

A door in the hull grabbed his attention. It had just been opened. He sprinted towards it, exiting the ship

He blew past two guards who had their backs to him. He didn't look back.

And he didn't stop running.

Finally Jack arrived in a populated area. He took a quick look around. The area was crowded.

He didn't see anyone chasing him.

Jack sighed in relief. Now he needed to make a new life for himself. But he needed money.

Jack groaned. Upon further observation, he deduced that the town was industrial based and not agricultural based.

Hours passed, and with each passing moment, Jack's hope waned. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets, Jack found himself at the outskirts of town, contemplating his next move.

Just as he was about to give up, a voice called out to him from the crowd. "Hey, you there!"

Startled, Jack turned to see a figure clad in the emblem of a guild member, their features obscured by the morning light. "Are you looking for work?"

Jack's initial hesitation gave way to cautious optimism. "Yes, I am. What kind of work do you have in mind?"

The man stepped forward, their faces illuminated by the gentle glow of dawn. "Greetings, I’m from the Autumn Branch guild, and we're always on the lookout for capable fighters.” He continued. “I have a job that might interest you."

Jack hesitated, he was not very good at fighting. He could hold a sword and swing it, but didn’t know any technique.

As Wyatt led Jack through the winding streets of the town, they arrived at the guild's main building—a modest room adorned with a few wooden tables and chairs. The atmosphere was tense with anticipation as Jack stepped into his new surroundings, the silence heavy and unwelcoming.

"This is The Autumn Branch," Wyatt announced, his voice tinged with reservation as he gestured to the room. "Our headquarters."

Jack nodded, trying to ignore the palpable reluctance in the air as he followed Wyatt further into the room. The other guild members were already gathered, their expressions guarded and distant as they glanced at the newcomer.

Wyatt introduced them one by one, but the greetings were met with cold indifference. "This is Carl," he said, indicating the man with a bow slung over his shoulder. "He's a level 9 Archer."

Carl merely nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes flickering with distrust as he sized up Jack.

"And this is Kuhara," Wyatt continued, motioning to the woman with a katana strapped to her waist. "She's a level 14 warrior."

Kuhara offered a curt nod, her gaze distant as she maintained a cautious distance from Jack.

Finally, Wyatt turned to a figure standing slightly apart from the others. "And this is Ruben," he said, gesturing to the Versurdi tactician. "He's a level 18 tactician"

Ruben's expression remained impassive, his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion as he regarded Jack with veiled distrust.

“And I’m level 16, by the way.” He added.

As Jack absorbed the introductions, the tension in the room grew palpable, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. It was clear that the other guild members were reluctant to engage with him, their guarded demeanor casting a shadow over the room.

Wyatt's voice grew solemn as he explained the absence of the fifth member, Lee. "We're in need of someone to fill his shoes," he said, his tone heavy with uncertainty. "And that's where you come in."

Jack took a moment to approach Wyatt, the unease evident in his expression. "So, what exactly does the guild do?" he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Wyatt's gaze softened as he regarded Jack, sensing the uncertainty in his demeanor. "We're adventurers," he explained, his voice carrying a note of conviction. "We fight monsters and demons, protecting the town and its people from the dangers that lurk in the shadows."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Jack listened intently, the weight of Wyatt's words sinking in. Despite the reluctance of the other guild members to accept him, there was an undeniable sense of purpose in their mission.

"We may not be the most powerful warriors," Wyatt continued, his voice tinged with determination, "but we believe it's our duty to protect the world as Aldarians ."

The sincerity in Wyatt's words resonated with Jack, stirring a sense of conflict within him. Memories of the Aldarians he had encountered in the bar flashed through his mind, their arrogance and cruelty still fresh in his memory.

For a moment, Jack hesitated, his thoughts swirling with doubt and uncertainty. Could he truly align himself with individuals who claimed to fight for the greater good, yet showed no regard for the lives of others?

Finally, after a long pause, Jack forced out a response. "Yes," he said, the word feeling heavy and forced on his tongue. It was a reluctant affirmation, tinged with the weight of his own reservations.

Wyatt nodded, seemingly satisfied with Jack's answer, though a hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "Good," he said, his tone masking his doubt."Welcome to The Autumn Branch, Jack. I hope you'll find your place among us. Join us for dinner?”

As dinner was served, a simple fare of bread and soup, Jack's stomach growled in anticipation. His hunger gnawed at him, urging him to devour his meal with haste. With each spoonful of soup and every bite of bread, Jack ate eagerly, scarcely pausing to savor the meager sustenance before him.

Throughout the meal, a palpable tension hung in the air, the silence broken only by the sound of utensils against bowls. Jack stole glances at his companions, but none met his gaze. Kuhara, seated across the table, cast occasional suspicious glances in his direction, her eyes narrowed with mistrust. Despite the unease he felt, Jack remained silent, choosing not to address the unspoken tension that lingered between them.

Meanwhile, Ruben sat at the head of the table, engrossed in his writing. Jack strained to catch a glimpse of the paper, curious about the Versurdi's mysterious scribblings, but the distance between them left the contents of the paper shrouded in secrecy.

As the meal drew to a close, Wyatt announced that it was time to retire for the night. With a sense of relief, Jack pushed back his chair and rose from the table, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere of the dining hall.

Wyatt approached him, a reassuring smile on his face. "We'll begin your training tomorrow," he said, his voice brimming with confidence. "Your bed is in another room. Get some rest."

As Jack observed Wyatt's proud smile, a sense of reassurance washed over him. Despite the doubts and reservations that lingered within him, there was something genuine about Wyatt's demeanor that struck a chord with Jack. Perhaps, he thought, Wyatt truly was a good person, driven by a genuine desire to help others.

Jack nodded, grateful for the chance to finally lay his weary body to rest. Following Wyatt's directions, he made his way to the designated room, the promise of a simple bed beckoning to him like a beacon of comfort in the darkness.

The bed, though modest, offered a welcome respite from the hard ground. With a sigh of relief, Jack settled beneath the covers, the weight of the day's events weighing heavily on his mind. Despite the lingering unease and uncertainty, Jack's exhaustion soon overcame him, and he drifted off to sleep.

Jack woke to the sound of clashing swords. Startled, he shot out of his bed, and grabbed his shovel, when he headed outside, where the sound was coming from.

Wyatt and Kuhara were fighting, their blades creating sparks as their blades came in contact. Wyatt looked at Jack and greeted him, “morning,” he said.

Kuhara took the opportunity to slash at Wyatt, who without looking, disarmed and pointed his blade at Kuhara. “I win.” He smirked.

Kuhara scoffed, and picked up her blade. She made her way back inside the building.

“Morning, Jack,” Wyatt said, "you ready for training?

Jack nodded, and hefted his shovel.

“Whoa.” Wyatt said, “How many monsters did you kill with that?” He pointed at the shovel.

"Ten," Jack lied, "No, twenty."

Wyatt said nothing.

“I don't really remember how many there were,” Jack continued, “So anyways, can we start?”

With patience, Wyatt guided Jack through the basic stances, demonstrating the proper grip and posture needed to wield a sword effectively. Jack absorbed each lesson with keen interest, his eyes fixed on Wyatt's movements as he committed the techniques to memory.

"Focus on your footwork," Wyatt instructed, his voice steady and reassuring. "A strong foundation is key to maintaining balance and control in combat."

Following Wyatt's guidance, Jack practiced his footwork, moving with purpose and intention as he navigated the intricacies of the training grounds. Each step brought him closer to mastering the art of sword fighting, his movements growing more fluid and confident with each passing moment.

“Make sure your opponent does not know what your next move is,” Wyatt explained, “You should appear to be at rest even when you are planning a move.” He continued, “I know it sounds dangerous, but it has helped me in a pinch, so pay attention.”

As they progressed, Wyatt introduced Jack to the basic strikes and parries, demonstrating the proper form and technique needed to execute each movement fluently. Jack mirrored Wyatt's actions, his muscles straining with exertion as he honed his skills under the watchful eye of his mentor.

Hours passed, with each strike and block, Jack felt himself growing more attuned to the rhythm of combat

Finally, Wyatt lowered his sword to end the lesson.

“I think you’re ready,” Wyatt said, with satisfaction.

With a swift motion, Wyatt lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air as he aimed a diagonal strike at Jack's shoulder. Jack parried the blow with a swift upward block, the clash of steel ringing out across the training grounds.

Undeterred, Wyatt pressed on, launching into a rapid series of slashes and thrusts. Jack met each attack head-on, his own sword dancing through the air in a flurry of counterstrikes and parries.

As they spared, the dance of blades unfolded with a rhythm all its own. Jack's movements were fluid and agile, his footwork nimble as he sought to anticipate Wyatt's every move. Wyatt, in turn, fought with a quiet determination, his strikes coming with the force of a seasoned warrior.

With each clash of swords, Jack felt himself growing more attuned to Wyatt's fighting style, his instincts guiding him as he sought to gain the upper hand.

As Wyatt feinted to the left, Jack saw his opening and seized it, launching into a powerful overhead strike aimed at Wyatt's exposed flank. But Wyatt was quick to react, parrying the blow with a swift twist of his wrist before countering with a lightning-fast riposte aimed at Jack's chest.

Jack barely had time to react, his reflexes kicking in as he deflected the strike with a well-timed block. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kuhara and Carl standing near the edge of the yard

The spar continued with relentless intensity, the sound of steel on steel echoing across the training grounds. Blow by blow, Jack and Wyatt pushed each other to their limits, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they danced across the battlefield.

And as the spar drew to a close, both combatants stood, chests heaving with exertion, their swords lowered in mutual respect.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Wyatt offered Jack a silent tribute to his progress. "Well fought," he said, his voice filled with pride. "You're improving with each passing day."

“I'm surprised at how fast you taught me,” Jack chuckled, “Is that really all I need to know?”

“Of course not,” Wyatt exclaimed, “teaching you more would take longer, and I simply don't have the time.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

“Because the mission is tomorrow, and I didn’t plan on taking you along because I didn't think you were ready.” Wyatt paused.

“But I think you can fight, so what do you say, are you in or out?”

“I’m in.”