MONTH 1:
THUS SPEAKS YOUR HERALD
SCENA 1:
A WELCOME, OR CLOSE ENOUGH
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As you top the last hill north of the Heartlands, the city that is your new home seems to rise at once from the sandy flats before you. First you are greeted by gleaming domes of cyan with gold adornments, then the bright tan stone of squared rooftops, many of which hold small gardens. The streets, which you can barely see in between the many two-story structures, are surprisingly clean and sometimes feature a myriad of greenery. You have to admit to yourself—never expected to find anything this beautiful, even grand, outside of the Empires.
• • •
It's evening. You stand at the gate to Mayika, capital city of the Kingdom of Karsis. There's nobody else trying to enter at this time but you and the caravan you arrived with. You present your letter of introduction to the guard, hoping it'll help you avoid some fees or at least speed up the process. To your delight, it does both.
[Guildmaster]
image [https://i.imgur.com/VQmns8l.jpeg] Mayika north gatekeeper
image [https://i.imgur.com/OTIFt39.jpeg]
GATEKEEPER: Looks good, welcome to Mayika.
[GUILDMASTER]: Do you know where I could find the governor's office?
GATEKEEPER: South to the main road, then east to the Royal District. It's in the main square there, but they're probably closed for the day. If you need an inn, I recommend The Blithe Buffoon. Best rest in the kingdom, and no they're not payin' me for sayin' it. Thrived for some generations now, despite the name—and that should tell you something.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thank you. What about the adventurer guild then?
GATEKEEPER: Didn't think we still had one 'til I saw the letter… You know, go ahead and ask the sergeant on your way out, he's in the gatehouse on the right.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thanks again.
After getting directions to your new inheritance—due south on that same road, called the Gate Road as it runs straight from the northern to the southern gates—you make your way through a modest portion of the city, including a number of merchant's stalls lining parts of the street; their wares are far from the best the city has to offer, but considerably more affordable.
Soon enough, you overhear a pair of voices that are plainly talking about you, and you pause across the way from a humble produce stall where its owner and a cheerful young man are talking to each other.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: What about this person? A newcomer like this is a great opportunity!
HUMBLE FRUIT MERCHANT: As always, young master, I can only rely on your keen sense.
The cheerful young man spins around with a smile, and in a flash he's walked up to you with a fruit in each hand. His clothes are basic in style but made of fine material and clearly well-cared-for.
Cheerful young man
image [https://i.imgur.com/yGywpRU.jpeg] Humble fruit merchant
image [https://i.imgur.com/ns8tpZR.jpeg]
He presents you the fruits, both arms extended to you with a simple but excited smile.
[GUILDMASTER]: What's this?
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: A free sample!
You eye the fruits with curiosity as you lift them from his outstretched hands, and note that they look healthier than you'd expect from a common market. Moreover, they're of a variety that you don't recognize.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: Mister Tarsim's family owns their own little orchard just outside the city. As you can imagine, it's a very complicated business without adventurers around to keep the alglots out, and not much profit to be made. But look at these! It took two generations to cultivate and another for the new trees to mature, but his family's efforts have finally, eh, born fruit!
Taking a bite out of one, you can only agree that Mister Tarsim's family must have both expertise and dedication. You step past the young man and over to the stall, eyeing the selection and prices while the merchant looks at you gently with confidence on his face.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Hm. I've tasted better, but might as well have been eating gold. Your product is marvelous, Mister Tarsim.
With a simple smile and a slight bow, the stall owner accepts your compliment in the spirit with which it was given.
<2> I'm impressed, thank you. I'll be looking forward to visiting again.
MISTER TARSIM: I'm most pleased to hear you say that!
<3> This young man's tactics are quite persuasive, I'll admit. As much as your own product, Mister Tarsim.
The stall keeper gives a gracious bow, and the cheerful young man grins.
MISTER TARSIM: It's a fine feeling to have my family's long-abiding endeavors praised such, I'll admit. You have my thanks as well, for your kind words.
The young man has a mysterious glint in his eye as he addresses you again.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: We shouldn't keep you, I can see you've still got your belongings on you and it's getting late. They're not lying when they recommend The Blithe Buffoon, it's the best place around and not even the most expensive. Best of luck to you, newcomer!
[GUILDMASTER]: This might be the best welcome to a city I've ever had. My thanks to the both of you.
After a couple quick nods and bows, you're on your way again.
Soon enough, you pass by an inn on your left, large but not very impressive. It's The Holy Harper, not the one you've been recommended. Judging by the wagon tracks and the large stables, it's likely a popular and economic choice for traveling merchants. Even from the middle of the street you can hear the song of a bard—and not a good one. He's chosen a tale of the Infernal Six as his song of the hour… ever a popular subject. It sounds like an original piece, or at least one you haven't heard before, focusing on the exploits of the famous adventurers' party leader.
> And dark was the hour, the village besieged!
>
> A heinous alliance of monsters, the fiends!
>
> But darkness—no matter how thick!—cannot abide
>
> the fires of Brimrose, newly arrived!
Well, at least it's an original. The tune isn't even that bad for a budget bard.
Past the inn, the road's quality quickly declines. There is little traffic to the city's southern gate, and less reason to maintain it.
With Mayika being the second largest city in the Heartlands, it takes some time before you finally spot the familiar sign of an adventurer guild, the flame-winged shield—the same emblem used across the known world. Below it is the Mayika guild's individual emblem, a rising gauntlet within a radiant halo.
Adventurer Guild emblem
image [https://i.imgur.com/HtLH2qo.png]
Mayika branch emblem
image [https://i.imgur.com/bGeFCKp.png]
But what first catches your attention is a large, elegant house, worthy of being called a small mansion, located directly across the street from the gate to the guild. While not richly decorated, it is clearly much newer and more expensive than the surrounding residences. It has a small yard even, surrounded by a high stone wall whose rounded top looks made of a smooth, ungraspable material.
Turning to the adventurer guild that is now technically yours, you knock firmly on the thick wood-and-iron gates. And then again, after a few minutes with no sign of an answer. Eventually you decide that you have no choice but to enter on your own—the gate is unlocked—and cross the large cobblestone-paved courtyard to the door of the guildhouse proper.
This time, your knocking is promptly answered. A smart-looking woman in an unfamiliar uniform opens the door just enough to fit herself through. Her elegant gold-trimmed suit jacket looks worn in places, but its jet-black color still holds. Similarly, her black slacks are impeccably clean and straightened, meeting just at her elegant shoes—refined, but sturdy enough to be worthy of a day's walk. She looks you in the eye, firmly but cordially.
Smart-looking woman
image [https://i.imgur.com/euj8CzB.jpeg]
SMART-LOOKING WOMAN: Your name and business?
Her voice is deep but feminine, and combined with her elegant poise your impression of her is one of implacable serenity and rationality.
[GUILDMASTER]: I'm called [Guildmaster], and I've received notice that I'm to take ownership and leadership of this guild by the will of Savron, the previous Guildmaster and my first cousin once removed—being the son of my great-uncle, Varal.
She nods, and you hand her your letter of introduction. She scrutinizes it with a trained eye, then hands it back to you with a slight but elegant smile.
SMART-LOOKING WOMAN: Welcome, [Guildmaster]. My name is Annessa, the guild's administrator.
She opens the door fully, welcoming you inside.
ANNESSA: There's much to review, even by way of a simple introduction. But for today I suggest you learn your way around and then make yourself comfortable after your travels. I take it you haven't been to the governor's office?
[GUILDMASTER]: Not yet, no. I was told they were closed for the day.
ANNESSA: We'll head there tomorrow morning then.
Inside the front hall of the guildhouse, your immediate impression is that, though tidy, the place hasn't been properly cleaned in years. The room is dimly lit, and the smooth, dark wood of the walls only adds to the impression of dimness. The hall stretches the width of the building, with exterior doors on both sides as well as one set in the back, at the end of a hall that starts between the twin staircases that lead to the above two floors.
You hear a door open on the upper floor, and footsteps approaching the stairs.
ANNESSA: This will be Varant, our most senior staff member.
Varant appears on the stairs, his gaze already appraising you as his sure and precise steps carry him down to the hall.
Varant
image [https://i.imgur.com/TzGK44P.jpeg]
VARANT: And this is…?
His deep voice is almost as scarred as his face, and with those few words his inexorable confidence is impressed upon you. Varant's gaze is judgmental, but not hostile. You immediately feel the need to prove yourself to him, but know that the best way to do that is to not feel like you have to prove yourself to him.
ANNESSA: The new Guildmaster.
Stepping off the last of the stairs, his eyes never leave yours as his measured paces carry him softly towards you.
VARANT: Hm. By what right?
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> The right of law, no less.
Varant grunts grouchily.
<2> The right of my distant cousin's delirious whims, as far as I can tell.
VARANT: You a relative of Savron? You got any of his strength in you, eh?
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Remains to be seen… I'll do my best, that much I can say for sure.
Varant grunts neutrally.
<2> A pinch, maybe. Two if I'm lucky.
Varant's grunt carries a hint of amusement. At least, you think.
<3> All of it—but only of the kind related to eating two Manaran honey pies in one sitting.
VARANT: Mighty indeed.
He seems amused, but his tone wouldn't indicate it; regardless, he has nothing more to say on the topic.
<3> Inheritance, apparently. I'm a relative of the previous Guildmaster, granted the position by his will.
VARANT: Nepotism, then.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> That's what I'd normally call it, yes.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Varant grunts neutrally. He might even be amused, but you don't know him well enough to tell.
<2> That's just the tip of it. Next, he'll promote me to advanced maid trainer, then custodian supreme, and finally, the ultimate position: head cook.
Varant nods knowingly, as though this were all a tragic but inevitable future.
<3> That's not exactly fair, in this case.
VARANT: You've a lot to prove before you can say that much.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Certainly looks like it.
Varant stares at the player with his usual neutral frown, but has no more to say.
<2> And I'm generally good at that part, but if I guess correctly, we're in too deep for me to be confident in my current capabilities.
Varant says nothing, and his expression doesn't seem to change—though you'd swear his face isn't quite as tight as it was a minute ago.
<3> It's not my job to prove anything. It's my job to help run this guild.
Varant eyes the player with some suspicion but says nothing.
ANNESSA: Varant is our senior trainer, and oversees basic training as well as advanced training for all one-handed combat and master training for guardian classes. He's probably one of the most experienced fighters in the kingdom.
VARANT: Only when it comes to monsters. I'm not training anyone to fight other people, bandits or no. And that includes goblins and lephan. If that bothers you, you should make some decisions immediately.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> We'll have to deal with bandits eventually, no way around it. Probably lephan too. You don't want to prepare them for that?
VARANT: Let one of the others do it. I'll cross swords with nobody. Hell, I don't even know how.
<2> I can deal with it at least.
VARANT: Well, don't worry too much. The others are better suited for it than I am, anyways.
<3> I approve, thank you.
VARANT: You should know that our adventurers must be prepared for it regardless. The other trainers are not only more willing, but more qualified.
ANNESSA: Varant, you should know at least that I've triple checked all the relevant documentation and everything is in order. Moreover, Zoergatha has given them the OK—vouched for them, even.
VARANT: Zoer—hm. I see.
ANNESSA: [Guildmaster], Zoergatha is our master Blackguard trainer. You'll meet him when he decides to meet you.
Without warning, the door to the training yard opens, and a fierce-eyed young noble enters the room with silent and graceful steps. Like Varant, there is extensive scarring across his face—for his part, including a lost eye… Indications that he'd once spent a long and difficult time without the aid of a healer.
Fierce-eyed nobleimage [https://i.imgur.com/q6wJYfs.jpeg]
Annessa turns to face him, but Varant continues staring impassively at the Guildmaster.
FIERCE-EYED NOBLE: …The new Guildmaster.
ANNESSA: Yes. [Guildmaster], this is Messen, our advanced two-handed combat trainer and master Knight trainer.
Messen walks up to stand beside Varant, the both of them looking straight at the Guildmaster. Messen's posture is both relaxed and imperious, but his one eye is dark with indiscernible thoughts as he scrutinizes your own.
[GUILDMASTER]: Good to meet you, Messen. Savron praised all of you in his letter. And he said that you in particular showed immense promise.
Somehow, Messen's stare becomes even more focused. His voice, however, is utter calm. It is quiet in its confidence, but rich enough to fill the entire room without being raised. And right now, despite the lack of overt harshness in is tone, all that confident calmness condenses into two piercing words:
MESSEN: You lie.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> What do you mean…?
MESSEN: Exactly what I say. I've never met the previous Guildmaster. Needless flattery is one thing, but don't mix it with outright lies.
<2> You falsely accuse me, but… why?
MESSEN: I've never met the previous Guildmaster. I've received enough flattery in my life, such that I tire of it. But an outright lie is contemptible.
<3> I'm not, and I don't appreciate your blatant fabrications.
MESSEN: You'll explain how he mentions me by name, then. I've never met the previous Guildmaster. Needless flattery is the standard for my birthright, and I thought I'd left both behind.
[GUILDMASTER]: That doesn't make sense… It's exactly what he said in his letter, the one I got with the notice of property transfer. I still have it on me, here…
Annessa immediately straightens at the mention of a letter, and her sharp eyes follow your hand as you pull it from a coat pocket. You pass the letter to Messen as proof.
Messen eyes the letter itself with some wariness as he takes it from you, opening it with his slender fingers. His every motion is made of trained elegance.
Annessa steps quickly behind him, almost instantaneously, and then peers over his shoulder without the slightest regard for privacy or personal space. Messen doesn't seem to notice or care.
MESSEN: …And he mentions me by name.
Varant simply grunts, but an extra crease in his face indicates some combination of surprise and concern.
After a brief time, a subtle change in Messen's demeanor—from intensely focused to simply stoic—indicates that he's finished reading.
ANNESSA: …I'd examined the will and all related documents, but didn't know there was a personal letter… It's his handwriting…
Messen is still expressionless, but his words betray his confusion.
MESSEN: This is…
ANNESSA: …I'll look into it.
Messen hands her the parchment and, with her too-focused face lowered halfway to the open letter in her hands, she makes a quick stride forward… only to remember that it doesn't actually belong to her.
ANNESSA: My apologies, Guildmaster. Might I borrow this for a while?
[GUILDMASTER]: Sure. I'll get it back, right?
ANNESSA: By tomorrow at the very latest…
She seems surprisingly absent-minded at the moment, in contrast to the sharp demeanor she'd displayed until now.
VARANT: 'Ey. You forgot me.
ANNESSA: Once I finish… I'll show you, if…
She immediately paces off to one of the staircases on the far side of the room. Her face is still bent over the letter, as if she's physically unable to take her eyes off its contents. She leaves the scene.
[GUILDMASTER]: Uh… wasn't she supposed to give me a tour or something?
Varant and Messen grunt in unison. After a second, they give each other a quick look before turning back to the new Guildmaster.
VARANT: I think I know what she's up to, and it won't take long. Follow us, we'll show you around the yards at least. She'd probably ask us to do that anyways.
They first take you through the door to the training yard, quite large and entirely clear at the moment. The stonework on the ground is noticeably better, providing a smoother surface for sparring and the like. They introduce you to three storage sheds and the supplies kept in each. Everything is old and somewhat worn, but well-cared for.
VARANT: Of course. It's not like we have anything better to do with our time.
Then they take you to the front courtyard. It's a large property, and the three-story guildhouse stands well above the surrounding buildings. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, in need of some repair but still serviceable.
Both Messen and Varant are quite amicable now—for what you've seen of them, at least. Meaning, they are largely silent and ever stoic, but are communicative and thorough as they guide you around. For Messen's part, the letter provided him with some confidence in both your abilities and intentions. Varant has picked up on this sentiment from both him and Annessa.
You notice that they are both thin and worn. You wonder how the guild has been doing all these years…
[GUILDMASTER]: How has the guild been holding up? I'm impressed you're still operational.
Neither of them change expressions, but you can definitely sense a dissatisfactory frown from each of them.
VARANT: Only barely. It's been… difficult the past few years.
[GUILDMASTER]: My impression is that there's very little left, even to pay you. Thank you for sticking around.
Nether of them say anything, but they each look somewhat somber.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> You decide not to press the subject.
They say nothing, and you wonder if they've any real hope left at all.
<2> I've known poverty, and I don't care for it. It's hard to imagine I'll be the difference between failure and perseverance, but I'll do my best to make sure we all earn what we deserve.
They don't say anything, of course. You can't tell whether they're grateful, doubtful, suspicious, or all of the above.
<3> Your perseverance is… Well, it's something to admire. I'm simultaneously impressed and intimidated by all three of you. Oh—sorry… the needless flattery…
Again in unison, the two master trainers utter a soft grunt. But you're pretty sure they didn't mind your comment this time.
They take you counter-clockwise around the edge of the yard. On the north side is an empty office, almost a house. Next to it, adjacent to the gate, is a large storehouse with a sort of merchant's booth facing the guild's entrance. On the other side of the gate is a large lotch stable, currently with a single resident. Beyond that, close to the guildhouse, is a large dormitory for the adventurers. It is shuttered and locked. Behind that is a provisions storage shed and cellar, situated between the dormitory and a stand-alone kitchen in the far corner. Even at a distance, you can tell that they are both regularly used but poorly cared for.
Just as you re-enter the front hall of the guildhouse, Annessa comes down to meet you.
ANNESSA: I again apologize, [Guildmaster]. The previous Guildmaster was… very important to us.
VARANT: Looks like you found something.
ANNESSA: It's less than I'd hoped, but more than I should have expected.
She hands the still-unfolded letter to Varant, who starts looking through it.
ANNESSA: It's a simple trick that we found use for from time to time… the juice of Pirpurran rindfruits can be used as an ink, nearly invisible once it dries, but easily revealed by the touch of a flame. He wrote a brief note at the bottom…
Varant's tightened frown is the only indication that he's finished reading.
VARANT: …Well he's just a right ᚠᚢᚲᛣing bastard.
MESSEN: I didn't realize you held the man in such high regard.
ANNESSA: It's true, that might be the best he's ever spoken about anybody.
Varant steps over to hand you the letter back. You inspect the newly manifested writing at its bottom, revealed in a smudgy dark brown.
> Annessa, if you're reading this, you're a dirty snoop and I miss you. I miss you all.
> — Savron
ANNESSA: And yet…
She sighs.
ANNESSA: Yet, it doesn't explain anything. [Guildmaster], do you know how or when Savron died?
[GUILDMASTER]: All I heard was that he left for the Crusade and never came back.
Annessa and Varant look at each other for a moment, and Messen eyes the two of them neutrally—curiously even, at least you think—while gently crossing his arms.
ANNESSA: It's the same…
VARANT: I lost sight of him when we scrambled to retreat. All we know is that he was listed as missing in action. Which, in the case of the Crusades, means you're dead.
Annessa lowers her head a bit, pondering something with faraway eyes.
ANNESSA: This has been on my mind, but… investigating further would take some effort, and… Well. Apologies. Karsis only recognizes missing individuals as dead if there's been no official record of them for four years, though a written will may take longer before it goes into effect. I didn't see any such stipulation in the will like I expected to, and it's been over nine years…
[GUILDMASTER]: Isn't the postscript rather curious then? It's like he expected you to wonder…
ANNESSA: And he mentions Messen by name… he had to have been here, but for neither Tami nor Zoergatha to notice…
MESSEN: Zoer—? …Ah.
ANNESSA: He had to have done something to… to reset his missing person status… there should be a record, unless—maybe he passed a letter to the king's officials directly? Or even the House…?
Though her downcast face is expressionless, Annessa's eyes twitch back and forth as she searches furiously for an explanation that might be even remotely plausible.
Messen is eyeing her from the side, his face utterly stoic but his eyes now benign.
MESSEN: I can almost guarantee that you'll think of nothing useful until you've discovered something more. If Zoergatha can't help with an investigation, I might still have some influence.
Annessa gives a brief smile in the direction of her unfocused gaze as she returns to the present.
ANNESSA: You're right. Guildmaster, let me show you the rest of the guildhouse, and then you can rest for the evening—or do as you please.
After a very brief tour of the guildhouse, you are introduced to your room on the second floor. It's spacious and tidy and—surprisingly—already prepared for you. Just as you wonder what you're going to do about supper, Annessa returns with a knock on your door and a small platter in hand, setting it on the room's small table with a vividly nostalgic look on her face and in her eyes. The mental image of Savron, sitting right where you are now, is strong enough to impress upon you the significance of your situation and the importance of your new duties.
It's a modest meal, old bread and cheese and two shriveled fruits, but you get the feeling that what's in front of you is better than any of them have eaten in months.
Once you decide to take your rest, the day ends.