Two days later, I idly ran a finger on a small knot of stubbornly rough texture along the desk as I read over the extermination report again. There had actually been two paluqs, guarding a litter. The enterprising guild members who’d taken the job had actually rescued the kits, planning to sell them to a menagerie at the first opportunity for a tidy profit. My eyes drifted down to the payout, mouth turning down. More than I made last month. I huffed a sigh. Not like it was anyone's fault but mine. I could be out there hunting creatures down, if only… if only I wasn’t such a coward. I dug his nails into the desk, leaving shallow divots in the carefully maintained wood, there were only so many ways to release the tension that pulled against my shoulders. I looked at the shallow grooves, recognizing a familiar contour in the random indents. Using a thumbnail, I carefully carved into the soft wax finish, connecting the lines and drawing the glyph for Endure. It had come out slightly lopsided, but still recognizable. I placed the heel of my palm atop it and attempted to buff out the scratches. There was only one person who worked at the guild and was familiar with glyph work, and I had no desire to be fined for damaging the desk. Again. After a few passes, the marks had only faded slightly. Annoying. Persistent little bugger. Putting a bit more effort in, I buffed harder, my palm sliding across the otherwise smooth wood, a loud squeak startling me. I glanced around furtively, worried it might have drawn embarrassing attention to the heat I could feel staining my cheeks. Fortunately, the hall was less empty than usual, and nobody seemed to notice over the idle chatter that filled the room.
My eyes flickered across the broad, warmly lit expanse of the guild hall, catching a glimpse of several familiar forms all circling and chattering over one another excitedly around the preening form of Tyrion. The young noble had been the center of attention for several parties and his usual sycophants all morning, for some reason. Not that it was too out of the ordinary, you could count the number of adventurers with actual magic on a single hand around here. Balandor was fairly large, but far from the capital and any serious threats, which meant lower pay than real power could earn elsewhere. Lower pay meant any guilders with serious grit were elsewhere.
A sharp rapping on the desk drew me out of my melodramatic thoughts, and I looked up sharply. Vera stood, looming over me with that lopsided grin. She leaned a heavily muscled forearm on the raised counter. “Hello there! I’m looking to offload some materials.” She lifted a large burlap sack, beginning to darken near the bottom.
My eyebrows climbed as I rose from my wooden perch. “Of course, what did you want to sell? I can get Ezel, our butcher…” My voice drifted off, mouth going dry as she began untying the sack, reaching a hand within and rummaging for a moment before beginning to pull out a familiar tufted ear. The blood drained from me as I paled, stammering, “Oh, uh, no need-”
“Nah, I love showing off a clean kill!” Vera chuckled, revealing the severed head of the kobold, snout drooping, tongue lolling. My eyes had gone wide as saucers, my tongue mute, memories rushing through me, sweeping my mind away on an avalanche of dark thoughts. Vera finally noticed my silence, frowning. “Hey, is something wrong? I’d have thought… Sorry, that was stupid, it is kinda gross.” She moved to shove the head back into the bag, but stopped short when a gauntleted hand slapped her shoulder accompanied by a loud chuckle.
“Ha! Oh my, what have we here!” Tyrion's leering face peered around Vera’s shoulder, glancing at the remains of the kobold before locking eyes with me. I stepped back by instinct, as the hairs along my spine stood on end. “Here, mind if I borrow this?” Without waiting for an answer, Tyrion yanked the corpse from Vera’s hand with surprising strength, tossing it directly at me.
I choked out a gasp, leaning away as the head smacked my chest, the weight surprising even in my addled state. Coagulated blood and viscera fouling my jerkin, I took another step back, leg catching on the stool. I cried out, falling and slamming into the shelf behind, as ledgers fell around and atop me with a clatter. Stars danced in my vision as I shook my head, before scuttling back against the wall, barely drawing a breath while staring at the gruesome trophy as it glared up at me with glassy eyes. Blood pounded in my ears, reducing all other sounds to a dull buzzing far removed from where I cowered. Vaguely, I was aware of the sound of gales of laughter erupting above, as Tyrion wheezed, slamming his fist into the counter again and again. I felt my awareness slipping, falling away even as I heard the conversation above so clearly.
Vera stood there, still as a statue. “What. In. The. Hells.” she ground out.
“Oh, just a harmless bit of fun. You’re obviously new around here, so you just don’t know about Bram here.” he said. I could hear the smile through his pristine smile.
“Doesn’t seem very harmless,” Vera growled, the floorboards shook with a heavy footstep.
“Aw, taking pity on our little bookkeeper? You really shouldn’t, or he’ll never grow a spine. After all, he can’t even stand up to a single dead sewer vermin.”
Vera’s voice was quiet, deadly, as she said “Yeah, you’d know all about vermin, wouldn’t ya?”
There was a pause, and perhaps a gasp. “You- you dare speak to me in such a manner?! Do you even know who I am?” Tyrion sputtered.
“I don’t much care, you puffed up insect. Now, apologize and I’ll let you out of here with all of your limbs intact.” Vera’s words buzzed, even as the rushing sound in my ears grew louder, louder.
I couldn’t look away from the macabre grin of the dead kobold. I ran my hands over my shoulder and chest, tracing the familiar lines across the puckered skin. Remembering.
*****
I’d just arrived at the Hunter’s Guild, staring around in awe. The broad beams of the building, interspersed by the by filigreed banners displaying the Hunter’s Guild crest and seal of the Trinity granting them authority lent the space a feeling of majesty and justice. I inhaled deeply, taking in the heady scent of worked leather and steel, and hints of sweat and blood not entirely smothered by the high smell of soap.
I took it all in with a grin. Straightening my crisp new leathers, I had marched to the imposing desk with a determined look. A tired looking older orc straightened at my approach, a small smile exposing yellowed tusks to match his graying topknot.
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“Hello there, young fellow! I can take a guess as to why you’re here, but why don’t you tell me?” The orc’s basso voice seemed to reverberate through me, jolting me awake. I puffed out my chest, youthfully certain of my place in this grand hall.
“I-” I cleared my throat, which had gone curiously dry, “I’ve come to register as a member of the Hunter’s Guild. I’ve got my own equipment, and I’d like to join a party if you know of any looking for new members.” I nervously shuffled my feet, brushing a mutinous dark curl from my eyes as I matched the bemused glance of the clerk in what I hoped was a confident display.
“Aye, I figured. Well, I’ll need to collect some information, then I can offer some pointers to parties I know are searching for some new members. First, what's your name?”
“Bram, sir.”
The old orc blew a sharp puff of air, chuckling. “No sirs here, kid. I’m Gerome, that’s it. You got a family name?”
My cheeks flushed, but I nodded and continued. “No family name, just Bram, my father’s Drevor, in Parma.” I struggled to keep my face from flushing further after mentioning my tiny village. It felt a bit embarrassing to be from such a small place compared to this massive city. It had taken me hours to find the hall the previous day, to the point I’d had to wait and come back this morning. The wait had felt interminable, every inch of me waiting for this.
Gerome nodded sagely, seeming to see right through me. “Sure thing. I’ve been out that way, not in a while though. Alright, let's get the rest of this filled out…” The remaining paperwork was a blur, full of complicated legal jargon I barely understood at the time, Gerome patiently explaining in a tone that expressed he’d done this a dozen times.
I gave a friendly wave as I stepped away from the desk, moving to the notice board, eyes passing over the many contracts, eyes widening as I spied some of the payouts offered, practically salivating at the potential wealth. I shook my head, moving to the section dedicated to recruiting. Startin on the newest looking sheets of parchment, I frowned as I read over the flyers. All of these parties were looking for veterans, with several years experience at minimum, and some would only consider those with a binding. I fingered the hidden satchel hanging from my neck through the thick wool of my shirt. In a few years, or maybe less considering how much some contracts paid, I could have enough to purchase the remaining shards needed to form one of own.
“Hey there friend, looking for a party?” A jovial voice called out from behind. With a jolt, I spun, spying a young man perhaps a year or two my senior dressed in fine chain and leather. Sharp blue eyes surrounded by a strangely pale face sized me up as the stranger approached. “Hmmm, yes, I think so. I’m Tyrion.” I took the offered hand, grasping it firmly.
“Bram, pleasure to meet you. And yes, I am looking for a party, are you recruiting?”
The tall youth’s smile was wide, exposing a pristine set of perfectly straight teeth. “Why yes, I am. Why don’t you come join us and we’ll talk particulars, we’re just about to head out.”
*****
A crash wrenched me out of the vivid memory, glancing up as Vera slammed Tyrion bodily into the sturdy wood desk, pinning him by the neck. The skin of her neck was slowly fading from metallic gray back to red, and her face was a twisted mask of rage. Pinned as he was to the desk, I couldn’t see Tyrion’s entire face, but it was clear the fight had fled him, as he raised his hands over his face, cowering.
“You sniveling rat! You try to stick a blade in me, then curl up like a coward! I will end you, I don’t give a shit who you are!” Vera’s voice was like thunder, as she raised her fist high. This was going to get bloody, and that wouldn’t end well for any of us if Tyrion’s father found out.
“Wait!” Vera’s head jerked up at my voice as Tyrion craned his own back, bloodshot eyes wide as I slowly clambered to my feet. “This has gone far enough, and nothing has been done that can’t be taken back. It’s not worth the trouble, Vera. Trust me,” I pleaded, trying to convey my meaning with an insistent stare.
Vera glanced back down at the defeated form of Tyrion, grunting. “Yeah, not worth the effort of beating a lesson into something this dense. Fine.” She released her iron hold on his neck, stepping back and allowing the noble to rise, rubbing at his neck, murmuring under his breath. Vera rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “Sorry about that.” She gestured towards the kobold’s bloody remains on the floor. “Is there a place that I could drop the rest off? I only came to drop this off and resupply.”
I avoided looking at the head, nodding to cover my sudden nausea. “Sure, Ezel can process it and give you an estimate.” I called out to the butcher, voice carrying in the silence. When I returned my gaze to Vera, something pulled my eyes back to Tyrion, whose hunched shoulders were still quivering with indignant rage.
Vera followed my gaze. “I suggest you leave, fancy boy. I let you off this time, but I’m not so generous as to do it twice.”
I could still hear Tyrion mumbling, even over the sound of shuffling feet and whispered commentary of the crowd dispersing. I moved closer to the desk, leaning forward to quietly suggest the same to the young noble, when I noticed blue-white light flickering around Tyrion’s gauntlets. My eyes went wide, as the furious son of the city’s ruler swung around, raising his hands as writhing electricity gathered between them.
“No!” I didn’t think, didn’t consider the consequences. I leapt over the desk, catching my knee on the lip as I tackled Tyrion to the ground, a wrist-thick bolt of lightning blasting up and over Vera’s head as it went wide, carving a massive swath of destruction across the wooden walls. Tyrion immediately shoved me off with enough force to slam me into the desk, panels creaking over the sounds of shouting and swearing, which were rapidly growing in volume. My head bounced off the solid oak, my vision going fuzzy. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. A massive boot collided with Tyrion’s armored chest, sending him spinning across the floor and halfway out the open door. The shouting was slowly replaced by a dull roar, and I slowly felt a hand around the back of my head, coming away sticky and red. Not good. My eyes slowly panned the hall, trying to blink away the blurriness. The crackle of flames brought my attention up as fire spread across the far wall, dry timber catching far more quickly than I would ever have imagined. The flames were like tongues, licking along the curves and splinters of the rough hewn timber above. Beautiful, I thought.
The light of the fire dimmed as something crouched in front of me as I struggled to get to my feet. I stared for a moment narrowing my eyes to try to make sense of the black and brown and red blotches in my vision, before it resolved into the hulking form of Vera squatting before me as she grabbed my chin, eyes boring into my own.
“Got your bell rung pretty good there. Come on, we need to get you out of here.” She moved to lift me over her shoulder, but I shoved her hands away.
“No, no, I- I have to-”
Vera interrupted me, squeezing my jaw just enough so it was too hard to speak, thick fingers rough against my skin. “None of that now, this place is burning up, and you’re not fireproof, my friend. And you’re far too out of sorts to help with bailing.” With that she tossed me over a broad shoulder, jogging out the door into the street, strangely much quieter than the hall had been. Now I definitely was feeling nauseous, the jerky, bouncing movement threatening to upend my stomach’s contents down Vera’s back. I closed my eyes, focusing on keeping everything down. That's odd, why was it so loud again? My sluggish brain finally put it together when Vera gently set me down against the side of the tailor’s shop a short way down the road, facing the guild hall. I ran a hand over the dusty cobblestone, eyes glued to my place of work. Flames were shooting out of gaps in the tile roof as the building quickly became an inferno that I could feel drying my skin like good kindling from a hundred feet away. Probably won’t have to work tomorrow. A delirious chuckle escaped my lips. As I sat there, quietly staring at the burning hall, I couldn’t help but marvel at how loud it was. The wood of the structure cracked and splintered, but over all of it, the flames roared, like some great beast out of the stories the guild was always full of.
I felt my eyes glaze over after an indeterminate time, as blurred figures ran to and fro, reminding me of the ants I used to watch as a child, only so much louder, none of the quiet order and efficiency. The shouting gradually faded, as the figures moved to an orderly sort of chaos, marching back and forth to the squat shape of the nearest well and the crumbling building. The nearest buildings were soaked repeatedly while the fire only burned brighter. Until another figure approached, wearing a sparkling blue hat, too distant to glean any details. I watched them raise their arms over the fire, a great wind gusting along the street jostling me away from the wall I was perched up against, before it settled, letting my head fall back against the stone heavily, only sluggishly remembering too late that perhaps I should be gentle. Everything went dark, as consciousness fled.