'Thirty silver freaking coins!'

It was nice of Blaine to inform me that my money would be "refunded", but I didn't have that much to pay in the first place. No matter how much I willed my copper-ish spatial ring to spit more coins into my pocket so no one would see, my entire fortune seemed short of just twenty-five pieces of silver.

"A-and… and I would be obliged to pay when? Like with Ria after the work is done?" If so, and everything was taken care of, as Lieutenant Blaine claimed, the coins should not be a problem. Of course, it depended on whether the instructor was really the one the lieutenant wanted to send me to - for whatever reason. If not, I could quickly end up in debt.

"Yes and no," Enola said, running her eyes down the pages of the book to make sure she didn't see wrong. "You see, the instructors are not our full-time employees. They're former soldiers, seekers, and city guards making a little extra money this way."

'I wouldn't say that thirty silver coins an hour was little - it was damn well three times what I earned IN A DAY.'

"I know what you're thinking, Grey," the receptionist said, an understanding smile on her lips. "But for a seeker like this one, thirty silver pieces is nothing. Down there in Fallen's Cry, he can make several times more - while RISKING his life, though.”

Enola's emphasis on the last words did not escape me. Still, I couldn't help but think, "Why do this, then?"

'Why waste time on someone like me when he could have spent it much more fruitfully down there?'

"Each of the instructors has their reasons. For some, it's money; others want to pass on their experience, and some want to help aspiring seekers. Don't worry, just like with the guides, City Hall guarantees the instructors. You won't be ripped off."

"Oh, okay. And the payment, then?"

"To make sure their time is not wasted, you pay a third in advance when booking a time. The rest after the lesson."

"I s-see," I stammered, trying in vain to hide my relief. Now, the message on the note made more sense.

"So?" Enola asked, eyeing the book again only to frown. "How this one isn't taken is beyond me. There should - well, whatever. Look, Grey, I'm going to go against my word on this one, and I'm gonna recommend you take this chance."

'Huh? After all that effort to talk me out of going the way of the seeker?'

"Is he that good?"

"Yes, he is."

'Damn!' The certainty with which she said it made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. 'Who was that guy?' Seriously, who was he? And why was Enola so obviously reluctant to tell me his name?

"At what time?" Not that it mattered much. Apart from visiting the library, my only plan was to figure out my weaves. If he was that good, I might as well get some advice from him on that, too.

"It's an evening lesson. Nine o'clock."

"Oh, that late?" By that time last night, I was drifting off into dreamland - the fault of early rising and hard work.

"Yes. Look..."

"No, it's okay. I'll take it." Honestly, even without a note from Lieutenant Blaine telling me to do so, Enola had piqued my interest in the lesson. "How does it actually work? I want to have my fighting skills evaluated, you know."

"So you said, and as such, I'll write it down here so he knows what to prepare for. Don't worry; it is only when it comes to the types of combat that specific instructors are needed. Besides, this one's good at that sort of thing. He used to be an army drill sergeant..."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Balls on tits! Are you talking about Deckard?" a man's voice boomed from behind me. "He has an available spot?"

At that moment, the hairs all over my body bristled almost as if a wave of energy - this weird tension - swept through the entrance hall, and in the next breath the murmurs of those present cut into my ears.

"Deckard?"

"He's instructing?"

"When did he come back?"

"I'll take the spot!" The first one to shout out blurted out again, jumping the line of people behind me and rushing up to the desk.

Unlike me, though, Enola didn't let that throw her off. "Sir, you know our rules. No cutting the line. Besides, I already signed her in."

"I'll pay double."

"Triple," another, a woman, joined in.

"Fuck off, bitch. I was here first. One gold."

One bloody gold coin, ten days’ worth of work for me, something Ria could only dream of as a guide, and these people here were willing to spend it on a one-hour lesson with this Deckard? Simply ridiculous. But that's just the way the world was, no matter which one. The rich could always buy their way through life, while the poor picked up the crumbs left behind.

"Again, no CUTTING the line!" Enola raised her voice, much to the anguish of my already suffering ears. It did work, though. Despite those who came to fight for a place in the lesson with Deckard having noticeably more sigils than her, they fell silent.

[Warrior: ₪ sigils]

[Master Archer: ₪₪ sigils]

[Hunter: ₪ sigils]

The receptionist's ability to remain calm was more than admirable. Surrounded by these noisy people, I was sweating all the way down to my arse, itching to get out of here. Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long. With my hair bristling again as a new wave of tension swept through those present, their determination to take my spot flared again.

"This is bullshit!"

"I want to talk to the Chief Administrator."

"Some half-Terr can't..."

"That's enough!" shouted Enola. "If you want to talk to the Chief Administrator, you'll have to wait. He should be in the palace right now, holding talks with the City Lord."

"What, again?"

"Talks my ass!"

"As such, until he returns, I must ask you to leave this desk and follow the rules. If you do not, I will be forced to call the guards. Do you understand?!"

"Balls!"

"Tss..."

"As if that oughta stop me."

"Fuck the guards."

Seeing that the growing group had no intention of dispersing, a small bell appeared in Enola's hand, its jingle, seemingly unheard by those present, tickling my ears. Shortly thereafter, a man in a city guard uniform appeared in my domain, my instincts loudly warning me not to make an enemy of him.

[Spear Master: ₪₪ sigils]

"Is there a problem, Enola?" he asked in a calm, unruffled voice, yet commanding the respect of others - at least most of them.

"Fucking Master Guards," cursed one of those present under his breath, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the guardsman and getting his attention. "I see; someone doesn't know their limits."

"Yes, Brandt. They refuse to follow the rules of the City Hall."

"Are they, now? Well, maybe they need a little education on the barracks premises."

Posted as a conversation between him and Enola, an obvious threat of arrest if they didn't stop. And they did.

"Thank you," Enola breathed in relief, showing for the first time in all that time a hint of weakness. "So, Grey. That'll be ten pieces of silver..."

Whatever she said next, I didn't register as the strange tension brushed against my fur again, this time making even my inner beast uncomfortable.

"You felt it, too, huh?" the Master Guard muttered, his gaze sweeping the crowd, searching for something. My attention, however, was on the few whose gaze was now fixed on me.

"YOU! The gold is yours if you give me your spot."

"Bitch, you should know better. Give it to me."

"Fucking waste of time on someone like you. Deckard should be mentoring me."

"Surely he will choose me as his apprentice. So fuck off!"

When my fur bristled again, I knew the Master Guard was behind it this time. His presence silenced the bastards, stirring my inner beast. How did I know that he was the one behind the presence? Well, it was hard to describe. The best I could do was liken it to a voice imbued with intent; it was just unique to one.

"Should I arrest you for harassing a Sahal citizen?"

"I'm a fucking Sahal citizen."

"You can't do that."

"I can, and I will!"

That threat finally put an end to the whole thing with people demanding my spot with this instructor Deckard. Reluctantly, some a little confused, they all walked away, leaving me there to finish my business with Enola in relative peace.

'So why the heck can't I shake the feeling that this is far from over?'