White knuckles gripped the great oak barricade, the last line of defense against the incoming wave. Long shadows danced in the distance, shuffling through the early morning fog. I stared at the haunting doorway, eyes still red, and said a quick prayer: “Llyr, or any other gods who still listen, please see me through this. Steady my mind and hand, and let your blessing carry me through the trials of today.”
I glanced to my left and sighed, long and low. The sound seemed to linger, stretching impotently to fill the still air. Reticent steps took me around the barricade, and the short journey ended too quickly. I pulled up short, hazy light diffusing through the windows. With one final, immensely weary sigh, I unlatched the doors, the nearly inaudible hum of the security glyphs lining the door ceasing, and flipped the sign to that most dreaded word: OPEN. Quick strides brought me back behind the barricade once more, the polished wood’s touch calming as I took my place behind the desk.
Within moments, the doors opened, letting in the cool breeze of early spring. My face flattened into practiced neutrality.
“Good morning, what can I do for you?”
A broad, soot stained hand dropped a small bag of coins on the desk. “Got somethin’ infestin mah stores. Maybe rats, maybe a paluq. Maybe both. I dunno.”
I frowned, leaning forward. “A paluq increases the potential danger significantly. What have you brought for incentive?” Peering over the edge of the desk, I glanced over the dwarf. Clad in a worn but clearly cared for leather apron and a plain dark green tunic, the dwarf wore his short, bushy beard bereft of the trappings and ornamentation most preferred.
I reached forward, opening the pouch and started counting as the dwarf shifted from foot to foot. “Ah, well, ya see I don’t know fer sure it’s a paluq. Probably rats anyway…” his voice trailing off.
A single raised eyebrow brought the stammering to a stop. “Well, be that as it may, there is a possibility of increased danger, and hunters prefer either pay or certainty. We can list this, but after the guild’s fee, I’m doubtful you’ll get any takers. Besides, the only way you would have known it might be a paluq would be if you saw it, heard it, or found some sign of it. So which was it?”
A long sigh whistled through thick lips. “Fur. Damn storehouse is covered in the orange fluff. Sets me to sneezin and coughin like ya wouldn’t believe. Just need it gone, I’ve got some helpers on the smaller side and… well, you know, can’t have them bein disappeared.”
I nodded in performative sympathy. I happened to like cats. “At least one then. I imagine no rats in the meantime though. I’d suggest… this figure.” I slid a sheaf of parchment across the desk, finger resting beside the sum for a Copper contract. The dwarf’s eyes widened, jaw muscles working.
“That’s nearly double!” he growled. I nodded, once more the image of neutrality. This song and dance were the same every time. “Nearly, yes. Nearly as much of a difference between some overgrown rats and a venomous cat the size of you. Now, lets start with your name…” The dwarf deflated and slowly nodded. It was a simple matter of collecting information on the location of the storehouse and when any guild members could enter. Collecting the increased sum and signature from the dwarf was swift, though he did grumble at the liability clause, and I duplicated the details into the large ledger before me, before departing to the rear to deposit the funds. When I had returned, the dwarf had already gone, the door banging behind.
I rolled my eyes, and leaned against the desk, waiting. My eyes glazed over, letting myself imagine the paluq and the battle to subdue it. The creature would be incredibly quick, and absolutely devastating should it sink its deadly fangs into you. My expression turned sour. Unlikely I’d get a piece of that payout. No, the Bronze rank guilders wouldn’t need a scout for one single store room, nor one more division of pay. I heaved another sigh. So many today already.
The door opened once more, and I straightened. More customers, more haggling, more dragging information out of tightened lips. Great.
A few hours later, I dried the quill and set it aside, letting the parchment of the ledger breathe. The usual crowd had gathered, and the wide hall was filled with soft murmurs and quiet conversation. Taking the stack of duplicate entries from the desk, I stalked to the large board along the side of the room and methodically tacked each new entry up. Many eyes tracked me across the room, and shuffling footsteps heralded the crowd. “Hold your damn horses,” I murmured under my breath. With a loud smack, I placed the last of the entries upon the wall and whirled.
“New entries are up. As always, first come, first served. I’ll be at the counter once you’ve chosen.” I stiffly marched back to the desk, ignoring the smirks of some of the more richly dressed crowd.
No sooner had I taken my place behind the counter than a familiar hand smacked the top with a meaty thud. “So! What’s the toughest ya got today, eh?” The face belonging to the hand grinned through a bushy, unkempt beard. I smiled thinly. “I wouldn’t presume to know, Varin, beyond the associated ranking. You’ll have to judge for yourself.”
The larger man’s eyes narrowed, but the grin never faltered. It rarely did, in my experience. “Humble today, I see. Perhaps even more sniveling than normal. Did one of the rats beat that into you on your last contract?”
“No, I haven’t been on a contract in quite some time, actually.” As if you didn’t know.
“Really? My goodness, that is a surprise!” Varin placed a hand over his heart in mock surprise. “That’s a right shame. But surely someone will come along and want you to join! You do bring such… skill after all.” A gauntlet clanged as it clapped onto Varin’s shoulder, as another grinning face joined him at the desk. “Aw, ease off Varin. It’s not his fault, the poor lad can’t help it. Thin blood you know, and nothing to finance a core.” The lean, armored man leaned forward conspiratorially, immaculate blond locks draping around his narrow face. “You know, I could maybe help you out. Father’s always looking to hire more help, could get you a… softer job.”
My face had long gone blank of any expression. “Thank you, Master Duchene. I’m afraid I’m tied to my current post, but if I ever change my mind, I’ll seek an audience with your father’s representatives.” Tyrion’s smile grew sharp, accentuating his pale visage. “Of course. Can’t have this place falling apart without you!” With a thrust of his chin, he directed his friend back to the board. “Come now, let's find ourselves some quarry.”
I barely managed to suppress an eye roll. Tyrion never chose a ‘quarry’. In the 6 years I had known him, Tyrion had only accepted a handful of contracts, and never for anything worth bragging about. And, strangely enough, that gleaming breastplate of his never came back with even a single scratch, though his gallery of ‘friends’ surely did. I knew all about how much of an adventurer he was. But he always paid his guild dues, and never stepped too far out of line, so in the guild he remained. And the risk wasn’t worth antagonizing him, not with the power his father held over the city.
“Not worth the effort to worry about it, ya know,” a familiar voice said from behind. Leaning in the doorway to the many back rooms beyond the desk was Ezel, sharpening one of several knives hanging from a thick leather apron. She ran the file across once more, turning the blade up to run a sharp eye across the edge. “‘Specially not that one. He’s a coward, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less dangerous. Besides, we both know with half the resources you’d do twice as much.” Large tusks turned her comforting, friendly smile into the snarl of a warrior.
I gave a half hearted grin in return, but it quickly faded. “I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has those resources and I don’t. I heard he’s nearly ready to complete his third binding.”
That wiped the grin from the old orc’s face: “Well, all the more reason to avoid him then, especially if he manages it. Types like him like to throw their power around. Especially when they don’t have a firm grasp on it. But don’t focus on that, it’s called the First Hurdle for a reason. Just keep your head down, and it’ll be smooth cuttin’. ”
I rolled my eyes. It was fast becoming the order of the day. “Was that a pun? Get out of here, get back to your butchering.”
With a laugh, she turned and strolled back down the hall. “Let me know if anything really interesting comes in!” She called back, then was gone around the bend. I let a small smile linger before fading. Back to work.
It was no time at all before contracts were plucked and returned to the desk, expressions on the adventurers faces ranging from eager to bored to derisive as I entered their names in the record and provided any additional information requested. The quick conversation was almost soothing. Never enough time to really engage with them, just a transaction of information, perhaps a nod, and it was on to the next. As the contracts were picked up, the crowd thinned, until only a few indecisive stragglers remained. I drummed my fingers on the desk impatiently. Eventually one pair sheepishly ducked out the front doors without having chosen, though if they’d asked me, I’d have given them a pat on the back for their wisdom. Two Tin ranks wouldn’t stand a chance with any of the remaining contracts, even clever ones. More jobs were always coming in anyway.
Finally, only one remained. I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t recognize them, and I would definitely remember someone that big. At least a half span taller than my own average height, and enough muscle to wrestle a chimera under that leather armor peeking out from under their heavy cloak by the looks of it. When they finally plucked a contract off the wall and turned to the desk, I had to fight to hide my surprise and awe. An actual ogre! Not only that, but an ogress, for there could be no doubt that it was a she, as she approached the desk with an easy smile. Ogres were practically legends this far south, their massive strength and iron skin the stuff bards sang of. She strode to the desk, long strides showcasing the impressive muscle mass, and placed down the sheet gently.
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“I’ll take this one,” her voice rich in timbre, deeper than a humans, smooth without being overbearing. She wore a simple, rough leather cuirass, leaving the magenta skin of her powerful arms bare. I had to fight to tear my eyes away from her single, dull red horn and glanced over the contract.
“Kobolds in the sewers? Hmmmm. No great information on where the nest might be unfortunately. I’d pack some food, might be down there for a while.” I glanced back up, noting the shine of some very sharp teeth peeking through her grin.
“I’ll do that, thanks. Vera,” she said, extending a hand. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”
I smiled in return, wary of the sudden friendliness. Proper guilders typically didn’t associate with the desk jockey. “Bram, and no problem.” I shook the offered hand, feeling like I was gripping a bear paw. “New in town then?”
She nodded. “Yep, always looking for new work, new skulls to crack,” she laughed. “I think I’ll be sticking around a while though, The Twirling Daisy is nice enough, and there seems to be enough work to go round.” She placed her palm to the ledger, and a brief glow enveloped her hand as her guild mark activated and her name appeared written across the contract entry.
“That there is. Well, if you need any further information, I’m here most days, and the guard has a posting just down the road to the right if you need directions to any sewer entrances.”
Tapping a knuckle on the top of the desk, she gave a nod then turned to leave. “Thanks for the help, Bram. See you out there!” she called, doors closing behind her with a whump! I frowned after a moment. See you out there? I shook my head, returning to the ledger and finishing the entry. I tapped the quill on the inkwell. “Vera… no surname. Hmmm.” Turning, I fetched the thin volume marked ‘Hunter’s Guild: Members’. Opening to the blank pages, I wrote in large, straight letters: Vera. Ink flowed across the pages, glyphs lighting up along the borders. When the entry appeared, my eyes nearly popped out my skull. “Steel rank?!” I swore into the empty hall. “No wonder it felt like she could have crushed my hand with an errant thought.” I shook my head. She could likely take on anyone local and come out on top, handily. I stared wistfully at the door. Bet she has some real stories, some real fights, I thought to myself.
With a sigh, I sat on the stiff wooden stool, and perused the contracts accepted. It would be several hours before closing yet, and more still until I could finally relax.
*****
Isnapped the ledger closed with finality. With an easy grin, I strode to the doors once more. Latching them and engaging the security glyphs, I hummed as he tidied the wide hall. Cleaning up was my favorite part of the job, without question, for one very simple reason. The quiet. Even though it was gritty, manual work that was sometimes disgusting, wiping down the small standing tables and benches was a calm, serene effort at the end of a taxing day of speaking to irksome, frequently haughty adventurers.
I finished clearing up, turning to survey the room. With a nod, I snuffed the final candle. Hanging my fitted work jerkin on the hook next to the back door, I stepped out into the rapidly cooling evening air. There was still a bit of light peeking between the ridges of the tall market street roofs, which I relished as I picked my way around the broken cobbles of the alley, humming.
Circling around the front of the wide building, I broke out into a jog, shoulders gradually loosening as I wove between the light foot traffic. Turning off the main thoroughfare, the narrower street was largely free of other people this late in the day, letting me open up my stride a bit. The cool air was glorious after so long indoors. Moving much more quickly, it was only a few more minutes of running nearly full out, until I arrived at the forge.
The small stone building was open at the front, allowing the smell of soot and steel to waft down the street. I darted around the side, leaping over a crate of indeterminate supplies, landing in the large yard attached. Passing a quick scan of the dusty dirt square, everything seemed just as I’d left it. Pulling my shirt off, I hung it over the short stacked stone wall surrounding the yard, and went to work.
I let out a long breath, focusing on controlling my heart beat, and moved to the small pile of spare stones piled near the back corner. Grunting with effort, I began lifting the stones into the wooden wheelbarrow waiting on the other side of the yard. By the time I’d move all 25 stones to the other side of the yard, my back was glistening with sweat, and my somewhat thin arms were trembling. I allowed myself a minute to recover my wind, then grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow, keeping my arms loose and lifting hard with slightly trembling legs. With one laborious step at a time, I very slowly walked to the opposite side of the yard. Stopping with a huff, I began unloading the stones again, stopping when one of the smallest remained. Picking it up and holding it against my stomach, I slowly began lifting it above my head, continuing to lift until my arms gave out, and I could lift no more.
Setting the stone down, I sprawled in the dirt, chest heaving in the growing twilight as the small stones of the yard poked into my bare skin.
“Done already, are you?” Echoed the familiar voice of the forge’s owner, Jerome. I managed to turn my head enough to aim a rude gesture somewhat accurately. Jerome only chuckled in response, the warm glow of the forge framing the shaking of his shoulders. “You going to do any more, or are you ready to learn?”
I grunted, rolling to all fours, before slowly making my way to my feet and grabbing my shirt. “No, I’m ready. What can I learn tonight?” There were only so many ways to become an adventurer worthy of the name, after all. I had to explore them all.
Jerome waved me over, turning back to the forge’s interior. The coals were still hot of course, but the heat was mostly contained to one corner of the squat room by softly glowing runes along the curved stone making up the forge’s base. A piece of scrap iron lay on the massive black anvil in the center of the room, along with a set of chisels and a hammer. Jerome pulled out a piece of rolled vellum, placing it on the anvil. “Today, I want you to work on one of the most fundamental combat glyphs, Endure. It’s one of the most widely used glyphs, and the techniques are a good foundation.”
I grinned, fists tightening. “Yes! Okay, how do I start?”
Jerome raised an eyebrow. “Same as always. Read it. Once you’re done with that, you’ll draw it, then you’ll carve wood, then you’ll try it on metal. Today, I expect you to read and understand this,” he said, waving the vellum. “Then you can draw it until I think it’s good enough. Tomorrow we’ll try carving, if I have the time.”
I nodded, smile still splitting my face. “Perfect. Thanks Jerome!”
“Don’t thank me yet, you have to get it perfect before we try powering it. And just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m not going to charge you.”
I just waved his comment away. “I know, I know, I’m always good for it. Anyway, let me get into this.”
The next two hours passed in what seemed like a blink, until I was presenting the slate I’d been practicing the line work on got Jerome’s seal of approval, and accompanying yawn. “Alright, that’s looking good enough. Tomorrow, you can start carving. I’m locking up, get outta here.”
I took one final look at the complex set of overlapping lines and surrounding runes, admiring my steady work before glancing over at Jerome. “Sure, sure. Want me to pay now?”
“Nah, once you’ve got the full lesson, then you can pay me. Now out, I gotta eat, and Brin’s waiting on me.”
“Thanks,” I set the slate aside, cracking my back from leaning over for so long. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” A grunt was the only reply as the wide barn doors shut and latched behind him. I stood there in the street for a moment, looking back at the forge. Jerome was a good guy, and I was under no illusion that I wasn’t getting far more than he was paying for. Training from an experienced glyph smith was something few could afford, and the only reason I could was because Brin was such good friends with my mother and Mrs. Havers, my landlady, and what she wanted, Jerome did, no questions asked.
Rubbing my hands together vigorously to remove the leftover chalk dust, I strode home. The open air stairs creaked a bit as I climbed up to the apartment I shared on the upper floor of a small house, skipping the third from the top, which was getting a bit too soft to trust. I needed to ask Mrs Havers to replace that. Pulling the wooden key from the string around my neck, I unlocked the narrow door into the central room. I grabbed a hunk of bread and a bowl from the pantry, ladling some of yesterday’s still bubbling soup from the large softly glowing cauldron before dropping to the cushions laying against the wall.
One of the doors creaked, and a head of wild hair poked out, bleary eyes scanning the room before focusing on my relaxed, lounging form. “Ah, you’re back. Think you’ll finish the soup?” The body adjoining the head stepped into the room fully, rumpled clothes draping over a worryingly thin frame.
I paused a moment, finishing the mouthful of thin soup before looking back at my strange roommate. “Yeah, maybe a bit left, if you’re still wanting some?”
“Oh, no, I just want to shut the pot off. The glyphs have been humming extra loud all day, driving me mad.”
I rolled my eyes. That and it’s expensive to keep it charged. “Sure Marum, I’ll turn it off when I’ve finished up.”
Marum clasped his hands in a mock prayer, “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver, truly.”
I hummed. “Sure. Did you leave at all today?”
“No, today was too… present to go about in. So I just listened to the pot go on and on and on all day.” Marum shivered, eyes squeezing shut. “Anyway, I’m going out for the evening. Try not to choke and die on your soup.”
“Try not to get murdered in an alley.”
“Oh but at least it would be interesting. Alright, bye!” Marum practically flew out the door, leaving me alone in the dark room, lit only by the small heating glyphs on the soup pot.
After another bowl of soup, saving the rich potatoes for last, I switched off the pot, and placed the bowl on the counter for washing later. Yawning, I stretched before heading into my room, stopping at the modest wash basin in the corner nearest the open window. I took a moment to clean up, wiping off the sweat and dust of the day, before resting my palms on the shallow basin, staring at the reflection in the tarnished mirror. I pulled aside a curl of dark hair, exposing vivid green eyes that Mom always said would land me in trouble some day. Trouble of that sort had yet to arrive, but the memory was still pleasant enough to tug a small grin out of me. I ran a hand over the stubble sprouting along my jaw, stark against the tanned copper flesh beneath. Probably time to shave. I sighed, leaving the task for the morning and flopped on the thin straw mattress lit by moonlight falling through the window.
Before letting myself drift off to sleep, I rolled over, running a hand over the floorboards, finding the familiar gap by memory, and silently prying up the board. Reaching into the hidden alcove between the floor joists, I pulled out a small leather sack. Peering inside, I let the last of the day’s tension drain away. Still there. Opening it, I ran a finger over the glittering multicolored shards before carefully placing the bag back in its hidden spot, replacing the board as silently as possible. Then I rolled over, and let the darkness of sleep envelop me.