It took me a tenday to travel to the nearest city of note, Berkerin, The Betrothed of the Mountains. Nestled between three mountains to each direction except the south, wealth poured into the city by virtue of its location for trade and from ample resources harvested from the mountains. Precious metals, iron, stone, lumber, rare herbs, and ingredients harvested from the beasts and monsters prowling the region all fueled the industries of the city, much to the envy of neighboring lands. Great stone walls three stories high towered over those in line to check through security to enter the city, of which I was one among many newcomers flocking there in hopes of finding work.
All manner of races and beasts of burden awaited their turn as the line inched forward. Humans, naturally, but also elves, dwarves, orcs, and other races I have not heard of. A red-and -blue-skinned woman with goat-like horns who stood a head taller than even orcs scrawled away with fervor in some sort of journal. A frog-turtle-looking woman who rose not even to my waist tended to at least half a dozen offspring, the exact number of which seemed impossible to count by virtue of them never holding still long enough for any such census. Said children apparently found no problem crawling over everything and everyone nearby as they played some sort of game of tag, and since their mother did not scold them, it must have been culturally appropriate or she was too tired to care. Squat, two-legged critters, little more than a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and a stubby tail attached to a bulbous body, jostled off flies as their wagon master lightly dozed at the reins. A seemingly drunk gnome with pants to his knees took a piss, not more than two of his short steps off the road. As I said, all manner.
Peddlers hawked their wares at stalls all along the dirt road leading to the city gates. Snake oil, cheese, good luck charms, legal documents of questionable authenticity, children’s toys, aphrodisiacs, even more cheese, pickles (which may have had cheese in them), and more earthly delights were all available for those with coin. Criers droned out their songs to advertise any number of goods and services. Doomsayers called out the end times and the dawn of a new age in equal measure. Someone even had set up a puppet show, much to the amusement of a huge herd of children crammed in around his small stage of theatrical entertainment.
Minutes of waiting turned into hours, and by midday, I found myself about two thirds of the way through the line. I had arrived at sunup, thinking myself prudent for such an early arrival, but apparently more seasoned individuals had known to show up well before then. I kept my hands to myself and my coin purse hidden, for I had seen several individuals unburdened of their material concerns by deft hands and cunning legerdemain. Hunger gnawed at me, the walls of my stomach bumping into one another in their ceaseless quest for food, but I dared not let my guard down lest someone try to snatch away my own possessions.
By midafternoon, I found myself at the gate and next in line for inspection. The wagon in front of me was being searched top to bottom, inside and out, by three guards, while another guard waited with the driver and questioned him. The lead guard appeared serious in his conversation, his expression a hair better than dour. The glimpse of something shiny caught my eye as the driver and the guard shook hands, which appeared to drastically improve the mood of said guard. With a wave and a shout from him, the other guards ceased their search, and the wagon rolled forward into the city.
“Next”, barked the lead guard to me.
I had quickly palmed a silver coin into my hand in preparation for the need to bribe my way in. Perhaps that is the way of things around these parts. I stepped forward as commanded. The effects of the previous shininess on the guard’s disposition had apparently worn off already, as a scowl replaced his earlier hint of a promise of a smile.
“Occupation?”, the guard inquired with seemingly no enthusiasm for whatever answer I would have to offer.
I glance around behind me with exaggerated effect before replying. “No, no army with me today, perhaps next time. I am an Adventurer, if that helps,” I responded with a neutral but confident demeanor.
“Hmm. I’m sure you are. I’m sure the bards will be singing about you all across the lands, Mr. Adventurer.” The guard did not appear earnest in his assessment of my career opportunities.
I feel as though I have always had a quick wit coupled with a clever tongue, not that I had much chance to exercise the latter. I took a gamble by offering a sample of my sass to the guard. “If the bards ever care to take a break from singing praises to the valiant exploits of guards protecting their fair cities from vagabonds and moldy cabbages attempting to pass through the gates, then perhaps they will sing of me. Quite possibly, I will die in an entirely new way, the likes of which no one has ever seen before, and such will be immortalized in verse by a troubadour of some note.”
The guard glared at me for a few seconds as sweat beaded on my brow. Perhaps I had wagered too strongly on humor. Then suddenly, the man guffawed in response. The others chuckled lightly, looking at their commander to see if it was appropriate for them to laugh too. “Shits like you come and go all the time. Well, mostly go, as many never return. I’d bet you don’t last a week.” The lead guard gave a good belly laugh at what he must have thought was the most clever joke told since The Sundering.
I held up my silver coin between two fingers, presenting it clearly to the guard. “I bet you a silver that I survive my first three jobs outside the city. You can keep the silver now, but if I win, you give me two back.” I gave him a beaming smile of a plucky youth to help seal the deal.
He eyed me up and down. I was well dressed in appropriate clothes for adventure and travel. I was armed with a simple short sword, a dagger, and a buckler. Other than my backpack, I had nothing else noteworthy on my person, certainly nothing to suggest that I could be a seasoned Adventurer. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he made some sort of mental calculation as to my odds of survival.
“I’ll take that bet,” the guard declared loud enough for his men to hear as he took the coin from my hand. I fully expected that he would not honor his word, but gambling had less of an appearance of impropriety than a straightforward bribe, so the potential loss was not unacceptable. “Make sure you register with one of those adventurin’ guilds, Mr. Adventurer, so you can skip the line next time, should you make it back.” He waved me forward as his expression once again reverted back to his nonchalant level of enthusiasm for his job.
Once past the gates, the scenery improved, if only marginally. More peddlers, thieves, and harlots, some of whom were no doubt all three at once, but at least the streets did not smell of leavings from man and beast alike, and the streets here were paved with brick and stone to boot! I made my way forward through the crowd towards the more respectable and official marketplace. I found myself confident that I would see proper signage signaling the presence of suitable adventuring guilds.
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Not disappointed, I did see the signs. Well, many signs. Blacksmiths, armorers, cheese, stables, fletchers, leatherworkers, inns, clothing emporiums, various guilds, porcelain dolls, more cheese, magical supplies, and damn near every kind of shop a man could want was advertised by one sign or another, which followed no apparent rhyme or reason to shape, size, or color. I followed the sign for the guilds, specifically ones for Adventurers. From what I had read, they are all technically the same guild, but each guildhall specializes in different services. Generally speaking, those services would be for guards, exterminators, harvesters, scouting, and mercenary work. Each guildhall was in a line on the same street, so I chose the one with a beheaded monster, assuming it would be for extermination contracts.
Memories of my past lives flooded into me as I approached the door. I stood there for a moment as visions of moments lost to eternity washed over me unabated. How many times have I seen this cliché played out, that a young man signs up at some adventuring guild? Usually, they seem to be coupled with beautiful women my age joining up with me to form a party. I cannot tell which of my memories really happened and which ones were stories I heard in my past lives. Some felt more believable than others, but only vaguely. Ones that started on a grand quest to slay some ancient evil were no more or less believable than other memories where this would become a routine job until I retire and get a gold pocket watch in thanks for my service, other than that more people work until retirement than those who save the world.
Steeling my resolve and summoning up my composure, I opened the door to the guildhall. The room inside was rather large, evidently an assembly hall for weary Adventurers after a hard day’s monster-slaying. Prismatic crystals lined the walls and hung from chandeliers, providing ample illumination and seemingly fueled by magical enchantments. Walls of stone block, floors of wood, both of which bore marks and scratches that suggest a fight or two had broken out with swords drawn, otherwise appeared clean and tidy. Gruff, shirtless men sat at a table, leather straps strung across their well-muscled chests and backs to hold massive weapons beyond the means of normal men to carry, much less wield. Bimbos and floozies of the arcane persuasion lounged around with their silly, pointy wizard hats and highly impractical frilly and revealing robes with far too many buckles and belts for what they would need. Men and women clad in suits of armor, well polished, but ultimately still covered in the aftermath of some gorey altercation, shared drinks and commenced uproarious merrymaking around one table. Edgy hooded figures sat aloof in the darker corners of the room, one of which smoked a pipe.
It did not take long to spot the reception counter across the room. I made my way past the tables and curious onlookers, wasting no time to chat and sparing no glances to make eye contact with anyone. Two women stood ready at the counter. One woman was one of those tall, red-and-blue people with the horns, and as I now see, a thin and at least slightly prehensile tail. If there were a contest for wearing as little clothing as possible without breaking laws concerning public indecency, she would take first prize. She had all the right curves in all the right places to inspire rousing approval from my youthful body as my heart rate accelerated.
Her counterpart was much the opposite in some ways. Still easy on the eyes and equally blessed with generous womanly fortunes as compared to her companion’s physique, she was clad in a simple yet stylish thigh slit dress of various shades of green with white skin-tight pants underneath. With tan skin, pointed ears, blond hair, and sky blue eyes you could lose yourself in, the young elf lacked the smug confidence of the other, but otherwise suggested a coquettish air born of innocent naivety.
They eyed me as I approached, the tall one with a look I can only describe as hunger, the other blushed slightly and then looked away as I drew closer. I stopped in front of the counter, in part because it was polite, but also because I lacked the means and desire to walk through it. In truth, there have been times where I had both the disposition and ability to do otherwise, but that usually involved stone walls of a fortress with terrified people inside and not wooden counters. The tall one nudged her compatriot, and she snapped back to reality from whatever daydream she may have been experiencing to properly greet me.
“Welcome to the Berkerin branch of the Exterminator Guild. I am Serideth, and my coworker here is Chooka. How may we be of service to you today?”
She blushed for the entirety of her introduction, but to her credit, she did not stammer, nor did she forget her lines. The other one just smirked knowingly as she passed glances between me and the elf. While I felt the yearnings of youth, my experiences from my past lives girded me with the necessary confidence to fare better than a moonstruck calf when interacting with such a beauty.
“I would like to register as an Adventurer here. I have heard that you have openings that need to be filled.” I cursed myself inwardly as soon as I said that, but otherwise maintained my composure. Chooka leaned forward to rest her elbows on the counter, her upper body completely bent over, giving me ample view of mountains the likes of which undoubtedly many a man has dreamed of seeing the peaks, but fewer still have succeeded in beholding such wondrous vistas.
“Oh, we have plenty of openings a handsome young man like you could fill. Perhaps you could give us a hand or two?” She smiled suggestively as she leaned in closer to me. The opportunity provided me a good view of her horns, which started from her forehead and curved outwards and slightly forward before curving back inwards and then up, to finally slightly curve backwards well above her head.
I know the type. She likes to tease, and she may actually be promiscuous, but such is besides the point. To show embarrassment, while perhaps adorable from her point of view, is certainly to admit defeat. I had inadvertently stumbled into this innuendo, and I would be damned if I would be the first to shy away.
“If you would but guide my hands to where they can do the best work, I would be glad to be of service. Is there an application I fill out, or do I just come and go as I please?”
Her smile widened. I know not if it was from the thrill of the game or genuine interest in accepting my offer in a base way. She reached a hand out lightly to my face, caressing the side of it as her thumb gently grazed my lower lip before she pulled her hand away.
“Aren’t you just precious?” she whispered with a honeyed tongue as she nibbled lightly on my earlobe, a potential sexual harassment lawsuit in other worlds, but not in this one as I have gathered. In a more commanding tone, she continued, “Serideth, darling, please take this fine little thing to the backroom and show him everything he needs to become a man.”
Serideth, already flushed red by the tension of the encounter, turned a shade darker. “Y-y-y-yes ma’am!” she stammered out as she awkwardly turned to walk with rigid motions around the counter towards a side door. “R-r-r-r-ight this way, s-sir!” She bolted into the room with hands covering her face without bothering to see if I followed.
“Aw, such a shy thing. This will be her first time without me there to guide her. Be gentle with her,” teased Chooka.
As I walked through the door, not one to lose the last word at this game, I quipped back, “Sounds like at least one person is ready to move past hand-holding. I just hope she is gentle with me.” I ducked into the room before she had a chance to retort.