Oliver spent the night in the alleyway. He’d fallen asleep only an hour ago and would have slept through the morning if he hadn’t opened his eyes in the predawn by luck. The Crimson Pike Guild building stood on the quiet street. Only a few carts and chickens made any noise. Only his aching stomach prodded him to grab the iron loop and knock.

A hatch in the door opened. “Yes,” croaked a woman’s voice.

“I’m here for the trails.”

“A tad early, aren’t you?” The door opened. “Have a seat. Weapon at the door.”

He sat at a bench, laid his head on his arms, and drifted asleep. When he awoke, the main hall buzzed with activity.

A line of three formed on one wall, and a man looked at the trio of dirty faces. “Is this everyone?”

Oliver realized with panic that maybe that’s the candidates, and he should be standing there with them. Or maybe not. No one had told him, but then again, he had been fast asleep. He wiped drool from his mouth and staggered over to the wall. “Is this for the trails?”

“Yes,” the man said. “My name is Lord Heron, and this is an adventurer’s guild. This is my guild. Perhaps you’ve heard terrible things about the place. I can tell you, they’re probably all true. What makes us different? We take candidates right off the street. That means you’ll spend years on mundane missions, but you’ll work your way up. Maybe your dreams will come true someday, and I’ll send you after dragon eggs.” He pivoted on his heel and looked them over. “And maybe not.”

A skinny kid raised a hand partway and asked, “Will we learn to fight?”

“Where else will a poor kid like you learn from a weapon’s master? Yes, we’ll take you as far as you can go.”

I’m a weapon’s master. Maybe he could skip years of mundane work. He was starting to see why this was the reaper’s favorite world.

“Let me get to the point. You’ll get three tests. You must excel at only one. We just want to see some potential in you. I wish you all luck. Master Lumpo.”

A man with a monocle stepped forward. “Let’s get right to it then, shall we? Follow me.” He guided them back to the seating area. He laid out sheets of parchment and a few bottles of ink. "Copy the first page from this tome. I will judge your accuracy and penmanship."

Oliver took a quill and settled in at the long bench alongside other candidates. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written anything on paper. Everything was digital. The book's first page held elegant, looping handwriting, and notations crowded every line. He couldn’t read more than every other word. The letters ran together, and some looked backward.

He dipped the quill into the ink and scratched a line on the parchment. It looked terrible. Ink dripped along one corner, smudging under his palm as he moved across the page. Frustration built as he tried to steady his hand and not touch anything.

A splatter of ink dotted the table. His hands were stained by the time he finished.

Lumpo strode by, peering over shoulders. When he reached Oliver, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing, moving on with a slight shake of his head.

"Not bad," Oliver said, holding up his work and wiping his hands on his pants.

Lumpo looked at each in turn and held up Oliver’s. “Do you know what’s worse than an education? A miseducation. It’s easier to teach what’s new than break bad habits.” He paused. “Can you tell me why you removed all the long Ss?”

“I thought they were Fs.”

A disapproving noise came from Lumpo’s throat. “I see. Well, only Robert passed the test.

The youth smiled with pride. Underserved, really.

Lumpo paused the work and then crumpled it. “Well, on to the next test. Now, we’ll see how sneaky you can be. Upstairs, you must find a guild pin. Beware, if Cosim catches you before all three of you have gone, then we’ll reschedule the whole test. So do us all a favor and don’t screw up."

Oliver noticed several guild members exchanging amused glances. Something about this test wasn’t right. He opened the screen and pursued it covertly. He learned nothing new. Too bad Hunter wasn’t with him. This was his specialty.

"Who's Cosima?" Robert asked.

"You'll find out." Lumpo smacked the kid on the back. "You first, then. Get upstairs and find it."

The joists overhead creaked a few times. A man sitting beside the stairs gave a gap-toothed grin.

After ten minutes, Robert descended the steps, looking ghostly. “I couldn’t find it.”

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The other candidate looked a bit older. His name was Gorm. He said he hunted back before kobalts burned his family farm and had a light foot. The joists never clicked but never creaked. However, he too returned. “I have no idea where the pin is.”

Oliver faced them. “What’s up there?”

“You’ll find out,” the skinny one said and elbowed the other.

Determined to find out what all the comedy was about, Oliver crept up the staircase. It opened in the middle of an empty room with locked doors, except a double door that stood ajar. He pushed open the heavy oak and peeked inside. He saw no danger, so he slipped in and stayed close to the wall, hoping the joists wouldn’t sound.

An open door stood to either side. Straight ahead, a window looked over the courtyard at the center of the building. He expected a garden, but only a sand square filled the courtyard.

Furniture and chairs lined the room. He rifled through drawers but found nothing. He snuck through a doorway and found a storage room, but no pin.

Finally, he entered a smoky room. Inside, he saw long hair and naked shoulders sticking out of a tub of water. A woman was taking a bath.

These bastards hid the pin somewhere inside. Did Robert or Gorm even try? Well, he would.

She hummed and splashed water. The soaps she used and the herbs burning perfumed the air.

He spotted the pin. It was her pin, mixed amongst a pile of belongings on a table.

He dropped to all fours and crept toward a table. The floor gave a pop, but the humming didn’t stop. Whatever the tune was, it stopped, and the hum turned breathy. A moan came from the bath.

His heart thumped harder than before, and he had thought it was at full tempo. He put a hand on the table and patted. The pin had been right about—yes, right there.

A coin slid from the table and tinged on the floor.

Water splashed, and he scrambled back. When he looked up, he was a deer caught in the headlights. But the headlights were two bulbous tits bouncing from the chest of a beautiful girl.

She kicked his ass. The beating could have been worse. She launched into a series of brutal strikes, and he found himself reacting purely on instinct, his body faster than his mind could process. Despite that, she swept his legs out from under him and thrust her heel into his stomach. He didn’t feel the right to fight back, but he used his hands to deflect most of the barrage raining down and rolled away

He ran downstairs, panting.

Her voice followed him. “You assholes.” The room erupted in laughter.

"Looks like you met Cosima," Lumpo chuckled. "Don’t look so stricken. It’s all in good fun."

“I almost had the pin.”

Later, Cosima came downstairs wearing a dress and leather armor. She approached Oliver and punched his arm. "No hard feelings,"

The guild fed the candidates a meal. Who knew how good it tasted? Anything felt good in Oliver’s stomach. He scooped handfuls into his mouth.

“Poor kid’s starving,” Cosima said.

Kid? I’ll have you know I come from a place with clean water and sunblock.

Lumpo gathered them and brought them to the courtyard. Racks of wooden weapons stood at one end. "For your final trial, we’ll gauge your combat readiness.” He led them to a rack of daggers, maces, and axes.

Oliver took a wooden dagger and swung it a few times.

The others looked over the rack and moved to the next one, where practice staffs and swords rested. Robert took a staff and Gorm a sword.

The dagger would do, Oliver figured. He was starting to trust his skills as a level twenty weapons master.

Lord Heron appeared and leaned against the stone wall.

Robert fought against a spear, and wood struck wood. The thuds picked up speed, and soon, he defeated his opponent with a thwack to the ribs. For the next round, he had to fight two spears and the next three. It took all three to bring him down.

For the next bout, Gorm lost his weapon and charged, picked up a swordsman and slammed him to the ground.

On the next round against a sword and staff, Gorm battered them with his sword like a maniac and charged around the square. He was pissed.

The man with the staff swung wildly, and pain burst.

Oliver fell back, holding his ear. Blood tricked into his palm. Voices asked him questions, but he waved them away. “I’m fine.”

Lord Heron made a motion, and three men stepped forward, each with a longsword with steel that glinted in the sun.

"Wait, they get real weapons?" Oliver shouted.

"I sense magic in you," Lord Heron said. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

Oliver looked at the wood dagger and almost dropped it and ran. This world had him emersed. He had to snap out of it. The worst that could happen is he’d wake up to the reaper.

He moved to the center of the square and waved the dagger. “If I used magic, I’d bring this building down on us.”

“That wouldn’t be a good tactic, then, would it,” Lord Heron said.

The three fighters took their positions around him. Guildmembers watched intently.

"Begin." Lumpo commanded.

The first fighter lunged forward, thrusting toward Oliver's midsection. Oliver sidestepped enough for the blade to slide past him. He struck the man in the nose.

The swordsmen looked at each other. With one bleeding down a white shirt, they charged.

From behind, one swung his blade in an arc. Another aimed for his leg. Oliver ducked and parried. He struck back and met steel. The wood held up well to the sharpened edges. The swords took nicks out but didn’t cut through. He dove to the sand and came up low and stabbed upward.

The one behind attacked again, but Oliver feinted to the right this time, then shifted, throwing the man off balance. He struck the swordsman's shoulder hard enough that the sword fell. "Got you.”

The crowd murmured. Lord Heron crossed his arms.

Regrouping, the tow remaining exchanged glances and approached together. Oliver scooped up the long sword.

They should have called the fight there and then rather than have him embarrass the two. He fenced with them, a smile on his face because he felt like this was what he was made for. The sword was a feather in his hands. When he decided to end it, he ended it by disarming each in turn.

Afterward, Lord Heron spoke to him. “You and Robert are in. But I’ll be watching you closely. Where’d you learn to fight?”

“I don’t remember.”