Our conversation comes to a stop as we pass one of the many Libraries dotted throughout the city. One for each of the prevailing schools of philosophy.

Philosophers from the schools walk around the markets or outside schools preaching their teaching and trying to convert people to their reason. Eagerly recruiting students to teach for free the basics of speaking, reading and writing the local language along with basic mathematics.

More advanced tutoring comes at a price.

We stop before a large group of people about two dozen who block the street gathering outside of the Libraries.

"What is the bother you think?" asks Gareth as he tries to get a better look standing on his tiptoes.

"Don’t know. A rivalry between Libraries perhaps?" I speak in reply craning my head trying to see above the crowd of people.

All of the members of each rival faction wear shabby robes with differently dyed sashes around their arms.

The group facing the library seemingly seeking an argument wear red-dyed sashes while the one from the Library has green-dyed sashes.

While they are not physically fighting, they are shouting at each other but not in angry bursts of speech in elongated discussions on the abstract principles of the metaphysical makeup of the world be it a mental projection of a divine deity or the other side we are all material and the divine is everything including our being.

It is a philosophical brawl as they impose their dogma on each other. One that switched as it always did to morality.

"Magi Moralis demands that we serve Magi faithfully."

"Only if they care for us Marti. Service for care is the ancient promise. But, if the Miltar keep pushing aggressions against the Sparti then war will come to our houses."

"Let us walk around, they will be here for hours." I say and Gareth gives a nod of agreement.

We duck into an alleyway a figure wearing rags sits with a dog tied to a fraying piece of rope they sit in the dirt barefoot hands outstretched.

A stink lingers a mix of shit be it human or dog and the stench of not having bathed in weeks. I toss a coin in their hands the cool metal passing from my touch but say nothing barely giving them more than a glance.

The dog barks as we pass and my heart hammers, but I walk on with little reaction to them. I guess knowing Gareth he passes over a few coins as well and I hear him say. "May you be well."

We make our way through the network of alleys unfamiliar with them by knowing the general direction.

We come across two men fucking in one of the alleys, one likely a sex worker.

The sensual scene is a stark contrast to decay and death. The life-affirming display is slightly dizzying.

We both awkwardly clear our throats Gareth staring slightly longer than myself with a red flush on his cheek and a look of eager excitement at the public sex of two men.

I tug his arm and practically pull him away giving him a stare to wipe the broad smile from his face.

"A time and a place, friend. This is neither." I say quietly with a chuckle. "You do not need to pay either, you charming pillock."

"How do you know?" he says almost as if I was offending him.

"Because I’ve seen your partners in and out of the academy their variety in bodies is equal only to their number. Now come on." I say with a smirk.

"Fine." He huffs.

We make our way back to the main street just beyond the rival philosophy enthusiasts. We spend the rest of the walk idly talking or in comfortable silence.

While we are no longer part of the academy as we completed at least one year we have the status as citizens of the city-state Athfen. Eventually turning off the main street and onto Rover street and to the first building on the right and our destination The Hall.

Rover street is unique for the city with all the buildings being made of wood rather than stone or the even less common metal.

If the tales were true, the wood came from the Wilds and is fashioned by the least talented of elven carpenters. All have a look of hasty construction and constant repair.

The Hall itself is a three-storey building that is for some reason painted in a variety of colours without seeming to have any distinct pattern. The diverse colour is the second point of difference that Rover street had from the rest of the city.

Most buildings of the city are stone and merchants use signs to indicate their trade. In Rover street, each guild house is wooden and painted with vibrant colours and distinctive patterns.

Dozens of humanoid bodies of all shapes move about the street many towards the Hall but some from a guild house.

Most wear the armour of some form: the mud-stained, less skilled adventurers wear Gambeson a full body jacket made out of linen or wool or leather armour, the richer noble-born and martially trained wear chain armour covering the chest made out of small interlocking iron rings and one individual has full plate armour on.

A few individuals each part of the bigger group have the distinctive rope around their necks and a wooden plaque with the carving "Slave" etched into the surface.

They do not wear armour and most have their eyes on their Owners or the ground.

After spending, most of the last three years in the academy on Mages Street where there is no entry for slaves the rest of the city provides a deep contrast with a relative abundance of slaves.

I stop suddenly, before the entrance of the hall.

I hesitate a hint of hindering anxiety holding me back like the weight of sickness. Gareth has no such qualms and walks right through the open doors.

I follow two steps behind trusting in the courage of my friend with a gulp. It is a busy place with bustling activity has adventures go to and from the board, receptionists or the tavern space. To the back is a set of stairs to the second floor.

The reception was to the left, the lower mess area to the right and the job board is at the back ahead of the door.

We steer left to reception.

It is a wide bar but has only one receptionist at the moment.

We join the back of the queue of four people as a female human with long, raven hair talks to the receptionist about entry to becoming an adventurer handing over a pile of paper to the receptionist.

She walks away I notice her pretty face and Gareth and her eying each other. With little else to do I spare a glance over to the lower mess hall.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The place is mostly empty. About half a dozen early risers are dotted across the tables and are eating breakfast with most having or looking over a quest scroll. A minority are either here for the food and drink or waiting on others to arrive.

The queue dwindles quickly with each receiving a reward after handing over a quest scroll and varying goods including one person's ears of Goblins.

Soon it is our turn.

I can a proper look at the receptionist. A human female in her early thirties, she wears her green dress with her brown hair tied up in a bun. As her cold blue eyes stare at us she gives off the air of a professional who is used to dealing with rowdy adventurers and ignorant newcomers.

"Greetings, are you, gentlemen, here to join the adventurer’s hall?" she asks politely, guessing our business.

"Yes, and we have identification. We meet the requirements." Gareth speaks out cheerfully with a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.

"We shall see. Present your identification, please."

We hand over our metal academy tablets. It has all our official details and our qualifications on it. It is issued to all academy students who make it through the first year. A permeant symbol of our status as mages and citizens of Athfen. Unless we commit a crime then the Governors have the authority to relinquish them.

After looking at my tablet the receptionist looks straight at me, peering to see underneath my hood. "An outcast are you?" she asks

"I pledged at Folyan Square. Under Gailian, I served the forces of life at Undur. I am a lawful citizen of Four Lions."

She smirks, "I'm talking about your real people. You are an outcast or should I expect the Legion to be crawling beneath my feet?"

"Yes, I am outcast." I reply stiffly most only glance at the tablet few check its contents.

"From birth, a result of a deficiency in mana, I presume. You are fortunate or perhaps unfortunate as the case may be to be alive."

I stare back at her without blinking, my arrows narrowing into slits my face still as stone.

"It is not important we welcome all kinds. I apologise for my questioning, my curiosity got the better of me."

"No offence taken, it is who I am."

"And academy students I see, ah you two must be part of the third-year rejects."

"You are correct again." I answer before Gareth can speak.

"Not many from the Academy come our way. The Miltar Magick usually funnel you lot to the Stratee." She scanned our identifcation. "Ah yes, citizens of the Four Lions. Can't have our secrets being spilled to Northerners."

I stare at her disspassionately.

"We are qualified it shouldn’t be a problem for us to join." Gareth interjects needlessly.

"It is not a choice. You will serve the years of your conscriptions gratefully, magi."

My eyes remain narrow and a pounding in my head thrums as the anger builds at her comments.

I let it go.

Pushing my senses through my body measuring each breath flowing into and out the belly.

She doesn’t mean offence. We are magi prideful by nurture. To see two as desperate as us who are willing to lose face and likely life to join this place. This must be a rare moment for her.

"You must complete a contract once per week. Should you fail you will serve six months in the dungeons. Repeated failures will be met punishable by death. Is that clear."

"As crystal." Gareth replies pale-faced. I nod grimly.

"Don't worry there is always an easy quest or as they are offically called - contract. Further, you will be paid per contract. All living accomdations, food and expenses come from your own pocket. Here are the forms, do you have your writing supplies, or do you require a quill and ink?"

"We have our own!" Gareth replies glumly. Nothing like miltary conditions to spoil your mood.

"It will take some time to read through. Please sign your name were marked, and once you are done please join the queue again and wait your turn. You may go over to the lower mess hall to read and sign the forms."

We head over to the lower mess hall forms in hand. A female orc, the person behind us in the queue, goes up to the receptionist.

"Is that new blood, Karen?"

"None of your business, Gretka. Now. Is your visit about a reward from a quest? Proof of completion, please."

I miss the rest of the conversation we draw closer to the lower mess hall.

We sit down on seats at the nearest empty table. I start reading through the form checking its content. Gareth just looks around the place. Trusting me to spot any problems with the document.

"She was blunt. I hope not all the people here are like that." Gareth half complains, half speaking out of boredom.

"They are likely worse." I say with a half-smile. A smile of cheery pessimism.

"Did you see the muscle on that orc? I’ve never seen one in city walls before."

"Aye, a rare one. Friendly too, but not unheard of since the Peace."

"Think she would be up for a roll in the hay?" he asks as the two eyes each other up across the room.

I see him do this but pretend to be still looking at the forms. "She is no stableboy or girl, friend."

"No, she is not."

"Fiery and adventurous was always your type. Well except maybe Kieran."

He looks up wistfully losing himself in a romanticised memory.

"I’m done with the forms, they check out. Sign where required and pay a one silver entry fee." I interrupt his daydream with a grin.

"Good, yes good." He blinks focusing again. "Good, time to be adventurers."

"Let’s hand in the forms. We can deal with getting accommodations now that we know that we are staying in Athfen."

We join at the back of the queue.

The place was filling up as the day progressed from the early hours and into morning proper and now about ten people are lined up in the queue.

As more people join the queue behind us I notice two new receptionists. A gnome and an elf. New arrivals line up to them and while the queues reach about five people each at a time they are now dealt with more efficiently.

Soon enough it is our turn again. We hand over our forms and the entry fee. To our original receptionist. I believe the orc called her Karen. She gives them a cursory skim through.

"Checks out. Here are your Dasflakas identification cards. It is the same as adventuer ones but you will see the Archmage's sigil denoting your place in the Miltar Magicks and the boot as part of the Dasflakas."

She continues, "As you may know, if you touch them to your Academy issued citizen identification it will record your status as an Adventurer. This means unlike other Adventurers if you lose your identification cards you have a legal backup. This also means you can also get your identification card back free of charge should you wish for a new one." Karen informs us.

"Thank you." We reply in unison.

"Now, would you like a quest?"

"Yes, but we have to see about getting a place to stay. I don’t know if we will have the time to do a quest." I reply honestly.

"You can start on quests without a time limit. One of the recurring quests. They are perfect for beginners and veterans alike."

"That would be nice. I know we are young, but we do have plenty of field experience and we are magi. As you implied earlier, we are hardly ordinary applicants." Gareth replies.

"Perhaps you are right, yet as I mention recurring quests are for both beginners and experienced adventurers. For beginners, it grants them to experience while also weeding out the weak and for more adept members it brings it some extra cash. While not a substantial amount these quests are easy, quick and safe enough that over time it brings in a reliable and decent monetary flow. These quests are the lifeblood of adventurers. Only the prideful think themselves above them."

"You have convinced the both of us with your words. We would be glad to take your recommended quest." Gareth cheerful adapts.

"Here you are, I assume you two are a team so I will give you one. Fulfil the requirements to earn the reward. To do that come to reception with proof of completion. This is a recurring quest so if you achieve the requirements three times you get the reward three times. After you have settled in you may come back and I will set your team up. A team requires a minimum of three and a maximum of ten. After that, you would need to create a guild and to do that well you don’t need to know for now." She explains to us and hands over a quest scroll to Gareth.

Gareth takes the scroll and puts it into his backpack.

"Thanks for everything, what is your name?" Gareth bluntly asks.

"Karen Blueworth, you may call me Karen. If you ever need any advice ask for me at reception."

"We will do, Karen." I reply.

"I may be intruding but do you have the coin to afford a place or are you looking for an inn to stay in?"

"An inn, a cheap one. A respectable place would be preferable we have enough coin." I inform her.

"I know a place where the two of you can stay, the Regretful Goblin. It is not too far from here. If you give me a map I can point where it would be." I take a map of the city of Athfen from my backpack and hand it over to her. "There" she marks the place. "It is reasonably close to here and the gatehouse. It was also cheap. A friend of mine owns the place with her husband. So, I guarantee it is respectable."

"Thank you, Karen. We’re off but we should be back in a few days."

"With the quest done. Have the reward ready for us." Gareth adds grinning revealing his pearly white teeth.

"Goodbye, Magi Gareth and August." She says with a small smile cracking her professional mask.