Even as the crew returned to a regular schedule under clear skies, they broke out the booze to celebrate their conquest of the storm and the rewards that followed. Apparently braving one of the Lord’s storms was good for levels. Many of the crew leveled up, with Bawdric even gaining two for whatever he was doing while not emptying Eofe’s sick bucket. He excitedly boasted to the Elf that he also got the [Surefooted] Skill.
“He pinned the medal on my chest, with all my other Skills,” he said, talking about the Benefactor. “He looks like my Da, even though I never met him. How does yours work, Eefuh?”
“She looks like my mother and gives me fruit,” Eofe said.
Eofe had gained nothing from the storm. Unsurprisingly, cowering below decks and retching into a bucket was not enough to award a level, or even a [Sailor] class. The crew still offered her some of the booze, which Eofe took one sniff of and promptly rejected. Though that meant she had to soberly endure a ship full of drunk sailors for the remainder of the day. She was astounded to discover that most of the experienced sailors had the [Working Drunk] Skill, allowing them to perform their duties regardless of their sobriety. She dreaded to image what feats it took to unlock such a Skill.
Following that ordeal, Eofe finally settled into her routine aboard the Penitent Scamp. The next two weeks passed in a blur. She got to know the crew a little better over that time, though everyone except Bawdric continued to call her “Grandma.” She finally met her bunkmate Lera, a coarse Halfling woman who gave new meaning to the term “swear like a sailor,” and who tried to encourage Eofe to make Bawdric “into a man,” whatever that meant. Eofe was glad Lera was on night shift and opted to avoid her during the few hours they were both awake.
She learned the priest’s name was Joffrey, though everyone referred to him as the “Priest.” He had been with the captain ever since the Orc purchased the Penitent Scamp years ago. He spent his early years as a common [Sailor] until a shipwreck saw him stranded at sea. He prayed for salvation and the Lord delivered, so he dedicated the remainder of his life to the Lord’s service.
Eofe also finally learned what the ship was transporting. The hold was full of a mix of Aedwyn artisan crafts, as well as perishable foods only found on Ilthera, which were kept fresh by one of the captain’s Skills. She was given a peek at some of the Aedwyn art and found the gold-engraved pottery and silver sculptures entirely too pretentious for her taste.
It was as the sun rose a full three weeks into the voyage that the lookout finally shouted the words that Eofe felt she had waited her entire life to hear.
“Land ahoy!”
Eofe scampered up to the bow and cast [Eagle Eyes] for a better view. There wasn’t much to see, with the coastline of Calan just a blurry stretch along the horizon, but it was somehow one of the most beautiful things the young Elf had ever seen. Eofe felt like she had just sighted home.
She spent the rest of the day in a haze, occasionally stopping her work to stare at the horizon, only to be scolded by the captain or first mate to get back to work. It was midday when Tarog’s Landing finally came into view, so named for the Orc who had conquered half of Calan in an age past. Eofe couldn’t hold in her excitement anymore at this point and dropped all pretense of trying to work. She stood on the bow and studied the city as it grew on the horizon. Bawdric joined her and explained everything he knew about the city, which wasn’t much seeing as he had only been there twice, and never once left the harbor district. His one piece of pertinent information was that there was an Adventurer’s Guild hall somewhere in the city, which wasn’t all that useful seeing as just about every city and town in Orith had one.
When the ship finally pulled into port, Eofe dashed to her bunk to collect her things. She donned her armor for the first time in weeks and threw on her cloak. It was strange to feel the weight of her cloak and armor after having gone so long without wearing them, but it felt good to return to herself.
The ship was fully docked and the gangway lowered by the time she returned to the deck, where the crew was already beginning to pull cargo up from the hold. Eofe said her goodbyes to the handful of crew members whose names she knew. Bawdric started crying for some reason after saying goodbye, so she patted him on the shoulder and decided that was someone else’s problem to deal with. Her final goodbye was to the captain, whose name she still didn’t know. He was overseeing the unloading of the cargo when Eofe approached him.
“Thank you for not throwing me overboard. Or eating me,” Eofe said.
The captain growled and gave Eofe a look that she had come to understand meant anything from apathy to extreme displeasure.
“Did you get a [Sailor] class?” he asked. Eofe shook her head. “Good,” he grunted. “You’d make a shit sailor, Grandma.”
He went back to watching the cargo being unloaded while Eofe unceremoniously disembarked, finally free of the Penitent Scamp for good.
----------------------------------------
Eofe’s first thoughts on navigating through the harbor district and entering the city proper was how different it was from Anar Fyndel. Where the Aedwyn fortress-city was orderly and conforming, the buildings and streets of Tarog’s Landing were chaotic and divergent. Structures could be made of wood, stone blocks, or bricks, having roofs of wooden tile or thatch, all in completely different architectural styles with no logical reason for the decision that Eofe could discern. One section of the city might be constructed entirely of finely crafted wood, while the next looked as if massive blocks had been dragged from a mountain and the buildings hewn directly from the stone.
If Eofe had known about the history of the city then she might have been more sympathetic to its architectural woes. Repeated conquest, razing, and rebuilding would make any city look like a mishmash of every culture to have ever taken the torch and hammer to its walls. Even after being a part of the nation of Orith for centuries, the city’s origins could not be so easily forgotten.
The streets were also disorganized, with pedestrians weaving between horse and carriage, whose drivers were perpetually shouting for everyone to make way. There was no main throughfare to follow. Instead, the streets converged on a number of market squares where sellers attempted to coerce Eofe into buying anything from cheap leather bracelets to priceless artifacts. Some alleyways were wide open and heavily trafficked, while others were so dark and narrow that even a girl as backwoods as they come could recognize the danger of walking them alone.
Then of course there were the people. The city was mostly Human, the same as the nation of Orith, but being a prime trade center, it played host to nearly every species Eofe knew of. Dwarves were fairly common, along with Halflings and even Goblins. Eofe ducked into an alley to avoid a pack of Orcs crowding the road, even though the rest of the city paid them no mind.
There were hardly any Elves, and all of them were very apparently Aedwyn, wearing finely crafted robes and carrying themselves with such a haughty air in a city they didn’t own that Eofe noticed the grimaces of distaste on passersby who spied her arrogant cousins. That was at least one sentiment she shared with the people of Tarog’s Landing.
The variety between species was also astounding, especially among Humans. She saw men and women wearing bright silks and glittering with jewels, who walked beside pale, scarred men adorned with furs and wielding crude weapons made of bone. She passed dark skinned Humans dressed in airy robes and bright turbans who glowed with magic.
She was coming to understand why Orith was known as the adventuring capital of the world. Besides the continent of Calan as a whole being absolutely infested with ancient ruins and magical ecosystems, the nation of Orith was also welcoming to just about anyone. The extreme diversity of the place made her feel more at home in a way. Here, she was just another of many foreigners to grace Orith’s shores.
Eofe’s brief exploration of the city was not the byproduct of aimless wandering, however. She had asked multiple strangers where to find the Adventurer’s Guild and received such conflicting and nonsensical directions that it took her nearly until dusk to find it. When she finally stood before the edifice of stone and wood that made up the Guildhall, she found the place was so crowded inside that Eofe nearly lost all heart in becoming an adventurer. The main room was massive, housing over twenty tables that were each packed with adventurers, with even more idling in the open spaces. Eofe was curious, so she ended up using nearly half her mana to cast [Assess] on random adventurers. She was surprised to discover that almost everyone was above level 30. One impressive looking group of three in the corner was even over 50. Eofe noticed that the other adventurers seemed to be paying some amount of deference to this group.
Eofe finally spied what appeared to be a windowed reception area to the side and started to squeeze her way through the crowd to get there. She overheard a number of interesting conversations on the way.
“…they’re coming further down the mountains…”
“…the Righteous Blades claimed to have slain one that was assessed at level sixty…”
“…if it gets any worse, they’ll call in the army, and there goes our rewards…”
“…he’s been dead ten years, why are we still cleaning up this mess...”
When she finally reached the reception counter, she had gotten the sense that there was something very wrong going on outside the city, but had no idea what it actually was. Her focus was then redirected to the woman behind the counter, who was plain and plump, and could have been a Human, Dwarf, or a very large Halfling for all she knew, seeing as only her top half was in view. A quick [Assess] revealed the woman was a level 27 [Receptionist].
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“How can I help you?” the woman asked.
“I, uh, want to sign up. To be an adventurer,” Eofe said.
The woman pulled out some sort of monocle from below the counter and looked at Eofe through it. “Level twenty-one [Wildwood Scout]… and level five [Fletcher]. I assume you would like to register under your [Wildwood Scout] Class?”
“Uh, yes.”
The receptionist returned the monocle and produced a piece of paper that was filled with writing. “Are you joining as a part of a team?” She looked behind Eofe, as if to see if there was anyone else there.
“No,” Eofe said. The receptionist wrote something on the paper.
“Are you familiar with the Guild ranking system?”
“Um. There’s a diamond?” Aunt Maeve had once proudly showed off her diamond badge to a captivated young Eofe, but that was all the Elf knew about adventurer ranks.
“Diamond is the highest rank. It starts at Iron, followed by Copper, Silver, Gold, Platinum, and finally Diamond. Your rank is determined entirely by your highest relevant Class level. So there’s no use complaining that you’re better than a Gold when you’re not yet level forty. We don’t have the resources to evaluate every adventurer, so if you want to rank up then increase your level and get a new badge once you’ve passed the milestone. You’re level twenty-one, so you’ll start at Copper. You’ll rank up after every ten-level milestone, so your next rank up will be Silver at level thirty.”
Eofe nodded along.
“The Guild’s rules are simple. Firstly, no stealing from or assaulting fellow Guild members. Severe or repeat offenses will see your membership revoked. Or one of the Rankers might just save us the trouble and put you in the ground,” Eofe gulped. “Keep your badge on you at all times while adventuring. We’ll use it to identify your corpse. And if you find any bodies of your fellow Guild members, you’re expected to collect their badges and return them to the nearest Guildhall. They would do the same for you.”
Eofe liked to think she would never have to worry about someone having to take her badge off her corpse, which was exactly the kind of thinking that would lead to that sort of thing happening in the first place.
“And finally, heed the call. Every once in a while, the Guild will call upon members above a certain rank to deal with special threats. It’s not often, but every available member is expected to show up if they can. The last major call was about ten years ago, when we finally put down the Flesh Shaper,” at the mention of that name, the woman shuddered. “We’re still dealing with the fallout from that madness.”
The woman slid the paper to Eofe, which appeared to be some sort of contract that listed the information she had just been given. It also indicated her rank and team affiliation, which were listed as “Copper” and “None”.
“If you accept the terms of your registration, then write your name on the bottom line,” she handed Eofe a pure white stylus of some sort.
The pen didn’t have any ink and Eofe did not see an inkpot nearby, but she pressed it to the paper anyways and felt some of her mana bleed through the device. It drained a small amount of mana as she wrote, and she noticed that the ink of her signature glowed with unnatural light.
The receptionist took the paper and squinted at the signature.
“Is that Elvish?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” The truth was Eofe did not even know how to spell her own name in Orithian. That alphabet had far too many letters in her opinion.
“No. I just didn’t notice you were an Elf,” the woman was suddenly scrutinizing Eofe a bit too closely for her liking. “We don’t get a lot of Elves here. Did you come from the Conclaves, or from Ilthera?”
“Ilthera.” Eofe had never even heard of the Conclaves.
“Why didn’t you sign up in Ilthera instead? I hear they’ve got a lot going on over there.”
Because the Aedwyn hate the Surag and we’ll soon be at war.
“I wanted to go somewhere new,” Eofe replied.
The woman grunted. “I can understand that.” She deposited the paper somewhere below the counter and returned with a small copper disk, not much larger than a coin, hanging on a leather cord.
“This will be your badge. Press your finger right here, please.”
Eofe did as instructed, pressing her finger against the engraving of a sword above an open book on the copper badge. After a few seconds, it briefly warmed under her touch before cooling back down. The badge didn’t appear any different afterwards.
“It’s recorded your mana signature. This way anyone will know who it belongs to.”
Eofe placed the cord over her neck and spent a moment to admire the badge. The emblem of the Adventurer’s Guild—a vertical sword hanging over an open book—was engraved on both sides. Small words were carved in some arcane language around the edge. Eofe didn’t know what they meant, but she assumed they were related to the magic that held her mana signature within the disk.
“You’re lucky you’re not starting out as a Chit,” the receptionist interrupted her inspection.
Eofe wasn’t the most fluent in Orithian, but she was quite certain that she should be offended.
“Ex-excuse me?” she said.
The receptionist laughed. “An Iron Chit. It’s just what we call the low-level adventurers that do all the dirty work. Cleaning out sewers, exterminating pests; the drudge work. The interesting jobs don’t start until you’re a Copper at least. And nearly all the dungeons and ruins around Orith are ranked at over level twenty.”
Eofe was more relieved that she wouldn’t have to endure being called by such a vulgar title.
“Oh, I should also ask if you want to pay the registration up front. You can take it on debt if you don’t have the coin, but you better pay it off before the next annual period. The cost will also go up with your rank, but that’s no reason not to rank up. You’ll have access to much better paying jobs if you do.”
Eofe brought out her coin pouch and dumped the coins on the counter. The receptionist picked through them for a moment before sighing.
“You’ll want to get these changed to Orithian coin. I can do that for you right now, it’ll just cost you a copper.”
Eofe agreed, and it was at this moment that she was introduced to the absurdity of currency exchange rates. The receptionist hopped down from whatever she had been sitting on. Her head barely cleared the counter, so Eofe was convinced she must either be a Dwarf or a very wide Halfling. She took all of Eofe’s coin into a back room, a single gold star and a handful of copper swords, and returned with five gold, seven silver, and four copper coins. Eofe thought she must have made a mistake, but chose not to say anything and felt a little guilty about it afterwards.
“I’ve already removed the cost of the registration. You’ll need to pay another Orithian gold in a year’s time.”
Eofe inspected the coins before brushing them into her pouch. Each of them was stamped with various buildings that she assumed must be somehow important in Orith. At least she wouldn’t have to look at Aedolin’s face any longer.
“How much are each of these worth?” she asked.
“Ah, it’s your first time in Orith. It's real simple. Ten coppers to a silver, ten silvers to a gold. Nothing like that mad system the High Elves use. No offense intended.”
Eofe couldn't take offense since she had no idea what the Aedwyn system even was. It had nothing to do with the Surag, anyways.
“Well, you’re all set. But a bit of advice before you go,” the stout woman leaned forward over the counter, and Eofe leaned in to match her. “Get out of town.”
“What?”
“This place is no good for a little Copper just starting out. A lot of the Rankers are here, clearing out the mountains and looking for the Flesh Shaper's laboratory. There's even a few Silvers pushing their luck.”
At Eofe's confused expression, the woman further clarified. “Rankers are what we call those at Gold-rank and above. The rest of you are the Rabble. Anyway, the city is crowded with adventurers and may be for years. They're even taking up all the low rank jobs.”
“Who’s the Flesh Shaper?”
“Who’s—” the receptionist’s mouth gaped for a moment before catching herself. “Right… You’ve just come from Ilthera. The Flesh Shaper terrorized these parts for near twenty years with his creations. He was an [Alchemist] or [Wizard] of some sort. He was over level eighty when Gentle Repose finally put him down.”
Eofe went wide-eyed at that. Achieving level 80 was a legendary feat. A person with that amount of power was a threat to entire nations. There were probably less than a hundred people at such a level in the entire world. She knew of only two among all the Surag.
“But then his minions went mad after he died,” the woman continued. “And now ten years later we’re still having to deal with his monsters coming down the mountains to terrorize the local towns and villages. There's a huge reward for anyone who finds his laboratory in the mountains to the north. They think it’s still making monsters out there somehow. No other way to explain how new ones keep popping up. Unless he had an apprentice or something, but that man hated people.”
That was all a bit much for Eofe, who still didn’t know what to do next. “Where should I go?” she asked.
The receptionist put on a thoughtful expression and tapped her finger on the counter. “I would recommend going to Parth. It’s a couple weeks west by wagon, more than far enough from the Flesh Shaper’s influence. The city’s been nearly emptied of Rankers coming here instead. Much less competition for the Rabble like yourself. They’re always finding new ruins in the area, as well. Apparently, it used to be some prime fertile land, way back in the day. Now it’s just dead civilization buried on top of dead civilization. There’s also the Gloomwood out there, which should be blooming any year now. You’ll want to reach Silver before that happens, but it's a good place to get rich and gain some levels.”
Ancient ruins and mysterious forests sounded like the perfect adventure to Eofe’s ears. “I’ll go to Parth, then. Thank you for your help.”
“Nothing to it. Oh, and make sure you take a guarded caravan to Parth. It’ll set you down a couple gold, but you won’t regret it. The roads around the Landing aren’t safe for the Rabble these days. Good luck.”
Eofe left the Guildhall with a spring in her step. She was a little disappointed she had even further to go, but she was also somewhat relieved about the idea of putting even more distance between herself and Ilthera. She was still slightly paranoid that Mother might show up one day and drag her back home.
But she was finally an official adventurer! It had been a secret goal for half her life. She just needed time to gain enough levels to make the dream come true. Now it was as if her life had finally started in earnest, and everything before now was just preparation.
There was still more to do before her first adventure, however. Eofe asked around for where to find a caravan headed to Parth, and was directed to the merchant’s quarter. She was a bit nervous about her funds and worried about the practicality of stowing away in a wagon, but the receptionist’s assessment proved true. It would only cost two gold coins to join a caravan that would be leaving in the morning. It was even being escorted by a team of Gold-rank adventurers.
It was nearly night by the time Eofe had secured her passage, so she wandered the city for a bit until she found a dilapidated park with half-dead trees and rotting grass. There were a handful of dirty and smelly people already bedding down in the dirt, so Eofe decided to join them. She rolled out her bedroll and quickly fell asleep. She only woke up twice during the night to scare away some urchins who tried to get into her things.
When the sun finally peeked over the eastern sea in the morning, Eofe scampered over to western gate and found her caravan waiting to depart. The caravan she had joined consisted of three merchants leading five loaded wagons between them, along with an extra covered wagon for Eofe and a handful of other passengers. It was being escorted by a team of Gold-rank adventurers known as Ulreth’s Pack. Eofe joined the other passengers in the back of the wagon and set her pack between her legs. She waited with excitement until the caravan set off, passing through the western gate and onto the open road.
Six wagons in total set out from Tarog’s Landing that morning.
Only one would make it to Parth.