"HA! You think we don't fight our own battles? We humans aren't the only ones with true immortals in our ranks you know. Faf has probably killed that Zethurian bastard over ten thousand times by now."
Selna Serek - The Fifth Immortal Monarch
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The day that Symon bought all his equipment for his first quest was also the day of the best sleep he'd had in years. So much had happened in the span of only two days and he was nearly at the point of collapsing from exhaustion by the time he found a bed.
He'd been fortunate there; Farolt's squad had been generous enough to let him stay with them at their inn without expecting him to pay. He slept with the grunts of the team, just a few young men and teenagers in Delta-Class packed together in a room filled with hammocks. While Farolt would do the planning, these were the people who would actually build the watch tower.
Come daybreak he also learned Farolt was not the team leader as he was expecting, instead it was a Fourier-Class scout named Janko, a tall and skinny young man who looked to be in his early twenties.
He barged into the room like he owned it, barking orders and shaking some of them awake. He gave the lot of them half an hour to prepare and made it clear by the seriousness of his urging that he would not tolerate waiting a second longer.
What followed was a chaotic rush of the sleepy and the uncertain. Some of the youngest looked like they might fall asleep on their feet as they made ready in a groggy haste.
In a matter of moments, the room was cleared, and they were all sitting down at the inn's table eating a morning stew.
"What's his problem today?" One of the boys asked.
"The guild is considering promoting him." Farolt answered as he sat to join them in their meal. “He doesn’t want to risk being late to meet with the observer at the South Gate.”
"Sir Farolt." Some of the boys said, giving a slight bow with their head to the man's entrance. A few of the others followed suit.
Huh? Sir Farolt? Symon thought. Did the man have some sort of standing? Had he been too casual with him yesterday?
“None of that now." Farolt said. "How many times have we been over this? Being literate doesn’t make me a lord you know.
“Speaking of, I haven’t properly introduced you yet.” Farolt put a hand on Symon's shoulder. “This is Symon, he’ll be my apprentice for a short time. He’s already literate and capable of mathematics. He might even be more capable than me in that area.”
Instantly their gaze upon him changed, from the look one would give a stranger, to acknowledgement of a well-respected colleague.
”Um. Is it sir Symon?” One of the boys nervously asked.
A “Huh?" escaped Symon's lips. Was being literate or doing math really so rare here?
"No. I'm not anything special." He said.
“Then how did you come to learn mathematics?” The boy said.
“I’m curious about that too.” Farolt chimed in, “Gwend told me you got a perfect score and even showed proficiency in advanced mathematics."
"Ah. Well to tell you the truth I don't know." Symon said.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Farolt asked with a slight chuckle. "That certainly seems like something you ought to know."
"Just what I said." Symon responded. "I seem to have suffered some memory loss."
"How far back can you remember?" Farolt asked.
"Just to yesterday. I woke up in those burnt fields and that's all I can remember." He said.
Symon decided that it wouldn't be wise to tell them any more than that. If he told anyone about his fight with the Fenrir or his teleportation, it would only be a lead to follow for powers he didn't want to find him.
The attention of the whole table was on him, though there was a silence in the air filled with their doubts.
“I guess you could have collapsed from dehydration." Farolt finally said. "The sun is unrelenting in those fields.”
There were some reluctant nods to Farolt's words. It seemed that even if they didn't believe him, no one cared to pry further. They probably figured that if he was some sort of big shot, it would be more troublesome to speak with him if he was forced to reveal it.
In truth, Symon did think he was born into a somebody. The sheer destruction in the scenery he’d been reborn in gave that impression. There were even scars carved into the landscape that hinted a slayer had been involved. There was no way someone involved in a fight like that wouldn’t be of at least some importance.
“Maybe you’re a big shot and you just forgot about it.” One of the younger boys chimed in.
Just after he said so, he gave a wince that Symon was certain came from someone kicking him under the table.
“I don’t think so.” Symon said, “If that were true, why would I be alone? Wouldn't I have some escorts?"
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The table went silent again. Symon could practically hear the speculation abound within their thoughts. What would he think in their position?
A merchant seemed the most likely story. Their numbers were the most numerous amongst those that would know mathematics. As for why he was out alone in this part of the world he could be a young upstart looking to get rich quick with the rare resources to be found in this region.
If he were in their position, that sort of story would seem the most plausible. A warrior-merchant looking to get rich quick on the opportunity provided by a dangerous land.
“Well, why’d you join the guild?” Farolt suddenly asked. “You seemed quite adamant about it.”
Symon shrugged. “What else could I do? I got the sense that I was a warrior before, maybe doing this would jog some memories?”
“That might be true.” Farolt said. “The way your clothes were torn it looked like you had just been through a vicious battle.”
Symon shrugged. “I think so too, but I really can’t remember anything.”
For a moment, the conversation stalled as everyone returned to simply eating their breakfast. That was, until one of the boys seemed to remember something and suddenly blurted it out.
"Do you think he'll get it? Janko that is. The guild promotion?"
"I think so.” Farolt said. “Gwend initiated it, and she doesn’t usually waste her time on such things unless she is certain about the results."
"So, he'll be gamma class... then who will lead us?"
"I heard Kastor was up for promotion." One of the boys said.
"He wouldn't be bad." The oldest of them muttered.
"I could get behind him." Another chimed in.
"Who's Kastor?" Symon asked.
"An Epsilon-Class Scout." Farolt answered. "That lad is blessed by the Immortal Monarchs, he's only fifteen and the guild is already considering promoting him to Fourier-Class."
Fifteen was quite young to have any real standing in the guild. Usually, people at that age would be restricted to simple labor, like the rest of this group, doing simple constructions jobs or collecting herbs. It was surprising that he would have even gotten an opportunity to prove himself at such a young age.
"Wow. How'd he manage that?" Symon asked.
"He's daring" Farolt began, "got his start taking dangerous shortcuts running goods from here to Tork. Valuable things that lose efficacy quickly, like monster blood.
“Anyways. When the guild solidified its position here and that path was cleared to make a proper road he registered as a guardian. No sense in holding him back when he already had a proven record, so the guild let him advance quickly. You all just might get him as a leader for a little while. Gwend is probably considering that he needs some leadership experience."
The spirits seemed high in the group at the prospect, though Farolt didn't seem to share the sentiment.
Symon could tell what he was thinking. Farolt did not seem like an ambitious man. He seemed more than content as he was, collecting a decent paycheck for some routine and relatively safe work.
This boy, Kastor, would appear to most of the group here as one of them. A leader around the same age as them. Someone they could relate to.
However, that was not true for Farolt or Symon. To them, there was only the lingering doubts afforded to anyone who rose so high so young. It was easy to imagine that Kastor would be impatient and overly ambitious. Mix that sort of personality with the bravado of the teenage boys on this team and he could easily see it leading to disaster.
The rest of their breakfast passed in a rush, as they all realized how little time they had left to eat.
As soon as they were done, with haste in their steps, they walked at a brisk pace towards the southern gate.
There was Janko, dressed in all his gear just as Symon had seen him in the morning. Somehow his face had become even more stern.
Beside him was another man with black disheveled hair, though alert eyes. He had a metal badge attached over his heart with nothing but a bold letter "I" stamped into it.
“Good morning, I’m Lothair, Involute Class.” The man spoke while examining his fingernails. “I will be observing Janko today for a class promotion. I won't be interfering unless you are in mortal danger so don't expect anything from me."
There was a brief stunned silence before Janko took his cue to take the reins.
"Well then. Gather round everyone and I'll brief you on our mission." Janko said as he unfurled a map onto a table made from a giant stone slab.
“Earlier this week Lothair led a team on scouting run deep into hostile territory. That mission led to the discovery of a dungeon here, roughly 100 miles to our southeast.
“The guild believes this dungeon to be the primary source of the monsters in the area. Naturally, the guild wants to claim it and contain it. If we can do that, the number of monsters in the area will gradually dwindle and the rest of the region will be easier to conqueror.
“Now. Our job doesn’t have anything to do with the dungeon, not directly, that honor will go to the higher ranked teams around here. If you noticed the slayer team that came to town recently, this dungeon is why.
“Our job is to help pave the path for them. The guild plans to establish five garrisons on the way, one every twenty miles. The first one is already under construction here.” Farolt said, pointing to a particularly busy portion of the map.
“On either flank the forest is being burned and watchtowers constructed, the same as the rest of the perimeter. The guild has given us a mission to construct towers along the silverstream river here to protect the western flank of the next supply line.
“Now, here’s the tricky part. In retrospect, with what we now know, the goblin attacks appear to have been much less random than originally thought. The guild no longer thinks we are dealing with multiple squabbling tribes. Rather, it appears they have formed a united front.
“The goblins may not be the brightest, but they aren’t stupid. They will know as well as we do how critical that dungeon is to our success here, and they will not let us easily take it. Once our objective becomes clear, we're expecting organized resistance to form up around the second or third towers.
“Now. Any questions?”
“Is the dungeon not as much a danger to them as it is to us?” Symon asked.
"Good question." Janko said. There was confusion in the crowd, so he elaborated. "For those of you who aren't aware, Goblins are not actually dungeon monsters, they are hostile to each other as much as they are to us. Though even with that being the case, of any species, dungeons appear to be most hostile towards humans, while the response to goblins is far more muted."
"It's true." Lothair said. "I've even seen goblins living inside a dungeon before. Though I was told that's quite a rare sight."
Janko nodded. "So, there you have it. Any more questions?"
"Good. Then let's get moving."