The adventuring guild is a recent addition into the Empire.

Founded by edict of the Empress Veracia, they had the objective to centralize odd jobs, mercenary work and monster extermination in one establishment, reduce casualty rates, offer basic training and set up a standard for the mission’s rewards.

Every adventurer would be kept track of, ranked, paid fairly and offered goods and services.

They would loan or sell equipment and provide healing and care of the wounded.

However, the true reason behind the creation of the Adventuring Guild was simply …

Taxes.

The sheer amount of money generated by this type of jobs were left untapped by the Empire’s tax collectors so far.

Submitting a request? There is a tax for that.

Registering as an adventurer? There is a tax for that.

You damaged infrastructure or wounded bystanders ? There is a tax for that.

Taking your time and clearing the mission late ?

There is a tax for that.

What was before simple neighbors helping each other with farm work or traveling bands of mercenaries doing escorts or dungeon clearing, now became services offered by the guild and what would become Adventurers.

It guaranteed payment for the adventurers, as the reward was handed over to the guild who took their share and added the task to the board.

But soon, the mundane, “daily chores” as the Adventurers would call them started to clog the Adventuring board by sheer number forcing the guild to be more selective and implant onto themselves a “bureau of menial affairs”, dedicated to all theses chores, for what would become the Casaniers, the adventurers that never shined by their strength and just lived off casual, intermittent work.

The foundation of this organization had another, hidden objective. By providing basic arms, group tactics and first aid training to the “peasants” of the Empire, they would naturally create a full fledged army of declared volunteers as it is part of their duties as adventurers to protect their country. It only happened twice in the past, during the Cold Catastrophe and the invasion of Remnant, the underground city.

The guild’s organization and hierarchy is on theory based upon meritocracy, and if one found worthy, would climb the hierarchic ladder and eventually be elevated amongst the administration or become part of the few elites that would have the honors to take care of the most dangerous (and rewarding) missions the guild can offer.

Such elites would also, if they show the skills, find themselves managing a guild hall by themselves, with their own staff.

The Grand Guildmaster would be a member of the Empire’s aristocracy, usually a member of the imperial family, and would be seconded by a council made of the five most notable elites to survey and decide policies.

However, this is only in theory.

In reality, the Fives thus far were more often than not chosen amongst the noble blood of the Empire, and sometimes, even True Ones have been named as part of the Fives’ council.

In the wake of the Guild’s foundation, the majority of the at the times mercenaries joined up and registered as Adventurers, seeing the obvious merits of being part of such an organization, or simply fearing retaliation after the ban of unregistered work, leaving a seething minority to protest against what they saw as the Empire’s attempts to lord over their work and take an unjust part of their rewards. Quickly, these disabused men in arms formed their own groups and strayed away from legality.

“Black guilds” would set up shop in the poor and wealthy towns and cities alike, where you could ask for anything as long as you provided enough of a reward. It ranged from simple, easy tasks to the darkest pits of crime like assassination, Race trafficking or preserved species hunting.

“Task masters” would take unregistered requests, bypassing the Empire’s edict and making themselves akin to bandits in the eye of the law, just like the surnamed “Steel Rain”, a Spellslinger infamous for the lengths he took to finish their missions, not minding casualties.

The problem became rampant, and despite their best efforts, “Taskmasters” and black guilds came to be for some another, desperate gamble to see their requests granted.

A unofficial report and critique of the Adventuring Guild - extract

Anonymous author, 100th anniversary of the guild’s founding.

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Jek hid the whole night, long after the screams of his father ended, only found out when the villagers noticed the broken window in the morning as the first rays of light made the shattered pieces gleam atop the snow.

He was found not long after by his mother, coming home after the feast had ended and the delegation left with the new True One, once the main place was cleaned up and the pyre extinguished.

Here she found Jek, half-mad from the scare and grief, hidden in the staircase’s closet, his sleeves and pant legs soaked with his father’s blood.

The village head’s body was found next, in a pool of its own blood, half-devoured. He was still clutching in a mangled hand the wand he tried to defend himself with.

Quickly, the Adventuring Guild was informed and the only scout available, Howard, was freed from his “house arrest” and sent for investigation. In parallel, the formation of an extermination party was decided.

Shortly after Howard departed, the carpenters and woodsmens of the village were put to work, building a wooden palisade all around the habitations to protect the village.

This was too little too late for Jek’s father, but the lesson was learned.

Even in a village in the middle of their Empire, far from the marches and the monster populated zones, the danger was still here.

Felix and Andrea were solicited by the villagers for help, and as good villagers themselves, they forged new axes and tools, and helped with the clearing of the trees.

Alaster too was put to work and helped along with the other childrens in moving tools and materials for the palisade.

The council hastily convened and a new leader was elected. Merik was appointed as the emergency Head of the village. It was in the hopes the Carpenter’s chief would know how to prepare the defenses efficiently and manage their wood exports until the situation stabilized.

A messenger was sent to Serval, to inform the powers that be of what happened, and raise alarm about the Pseudo Wolves menace.

Adventurers were hired to protect the villagers until the palisade was made, and for the council to recruit and organize sentinels on the walls soon-to-be-built.

Howard and the extermination party came back a few days later, transporting carcasses of their hunt. A dozen monsters were killed, but the howl’s kept echoing in the night.

What they thought initially as a single pack lost in the area between Schubert and Serval proved to be a full blown monster migration. Pseudo wolves, Dire Ostriches and Giant Spiders were spotted by the adventurers traveling to the village as reinforcement.

Childrens were forbidden to enter the forest alone, and the Village wooden gate would close at sundown for everyone, only the adventurers allowed in or out during the night.

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As a result of the feast’s events, Alaster’s education kicked up a notch. Until now, his mother only ingrained in the poor lizardman's head the theory of magic and mana control.

He only knew a very few hand picked spells by his mother, focusing more on the spell’s challenge for her son than utility.

No, now that he learned the basics of magic syntax and spell building, she decided to teach him a couple spells she considered essential. The kind any decent mage would know.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

For example: what kind of Spellcaster doesn’t know a variant of the famous Fireball?

Of course all of this will come with Alasters’ favorite activity: Homework. (poor kid has been drowning in books and physical training ever since that night the head counselor died).

With the method Andrea gave her son, casting that spell would take up to a minute to complete. But, if Alaster learned his lessons and decided to take the initiative to optimize the spell, he could shorten the casting time significantly to at least half of that.

With some practice, he would only need a few words and a dozen of seconds, and once he mastered it, he probably would be able to do it with a couple words.

And, if he was anything like his mother, he would eventually be able to cast it silently soon enough.

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“Again !” shouted Felix.

Alaster stood up from the muddy snow, grasping his training dagger in his right hand, his left, dominant hand forward, in an attempt to divert or parry any blow coming to him. Part of his mind was busy maintaining the flow of magic keeping himself warm. Staring at his sparring partner, an elf two years his senior, brought here in reinforcement by the Adventurer’s guild, and still in its apprenticeship, he prepared mentally for the confrontation.

Panting, he carefully watched the movements of his opponents' dual wooden daggers clutched in hands that already made him eat dirt five times today.

“Ready ?” asked Len, his opponent, assuming a more aggressive posture. “Try to stay up more than a minute this time!”

Then he dashed forward, the distance between them shrinking fast, and Alaster panicked, punching with his armed hand a good foot short of his target.

Len took the occasion, and pushed the scaly arm away, stepping in Al’s back, his other dagger pressed against the crook of his neck.

“Got you again” Len stated before he pulled and threw Alaster backward over his own back, crash landing for the sixth time in a row in a splash of mud.

“Al, you got scared again and misjudged your reach. Len, he can't learn if you don't let him realize his mistakes and try to correct them.” Felix paused a few seconds to think.

“Again, but this time, start a few steps of each other’s reach. no rush, stop short when you are about to hit and go back in position. Let’s do that for a few minutes, then I'll have my turn with Alaster, then I'll have my turn with Len.” Felix decided, lifting his spear and starting to wield it in the air, warming himself up a little.

Al and Len worked together for a bit, Len allowed him to have a couple of tries before attacking, going for the throat, thorax, inside of a leg, then got back into position.

Len was a good foot and half taller than Alaster was, and the little lizard's habit to hunch forward didn’t help breach the gap. Felix tssk’d when he saw it.

However, he didn’t say anything this time, noticing the little lizard’s tail lifting as a sort of counterweight.

Alaster’s dash and combination was much smoother this time, and for once Len was put in the backfoot for a second, not expecting the younger fighter to reach him so soon.

A couple parries later, and Len took back the initiative, stopping short once his dagger reached the lizardman's side.

Felix decided not to comment, letting his son figure himself out.

The rest of the training followed the same pattern, Felix making sure to go just easy enough on the two kids for them to be able to exchange blows and to be an effective training for them.

Later, Alaster sat on his father’s anvil, watching the two spar in the distance. He was caked with mud, panting from the effort, finally releasing his hold on the spell he kept going to warm himself now that he was close to the furnace of the forge. Looking at the two fighters, and especially his father, fighting with the same elf he was training with, he knew he had a lot of work ahead if he wanted to hold his own in a spar with them. He wondered just how long it would take, with his other studies and his mother’s chores.

He stretched and tried to shake off the dried mud off his clothes, muttering to himself and hoping he would be able to salvage the outfit before he went home.

Al’s head went up as he heard Len shouting in alarm, falling squarely on his back with a muddy splash. Felix had thrown him down, pressing his wooden spear on the young Elf’s stomach, pressing down on it just enough for Len to feel it.

“That’s enough for today. You’ll both run ten laps around the forge before leaving. Al, I’ll see you in the evening, go have fun after that.” Felix commanded, stretching himself with the help of his spear.

Alaster groaned as he stood up, his limbs feeling weak and achy now, focusing to warm himself up with his magic before taking off in pursuit to Len.

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Tired and sore, Alaster marched in the village, to the newly finished firing range. As he passed near the herborist shop, he waved to Tanya and invited her to come see the Rangers and Mages shoot at the dummies made with hay bags and wood targets. Tanya followed eagerly, done for the day, and took her sling with her, just in case a spot would be available to practice some shots.

As they went through the village toward their destination, Alaster noticed the villagers giving them a wide berth. His tail twitched nervously as a result, growing self conscious.

This was new.

The freshly arrived adventurers eyed them funny too, something he didn’t know exactly how to react to.

What the hell was happening here ? Grabbing Tanya’s hand, they walked faster, all these eyes on him and the villager’s behavior did not reassure him.

“C’mon Tanya, if we get there early enough, we probably will get a spot” Alaster hushed to justify their acceleration.

Tanya herself was a little puzzled, having not really noticed, but she felt some unease. She followed along.

When they got close to the range, they started to hear the voices of the mages casting their spells as well as the following explosions. Passing the walls separating it from the village proper, they could finally see the spells’ light traveling toward their targets.

The range itself was made in a previously tree-rich part of the clearing near the village, cleared up by the lumberjacks to build the new fortifications. Completely flattened by the architects and adventurers, they dug a hole in the back, where all the dummies and target rested, ready to be shot at. A little shed on the right contained spares, training arrows and first necessities like water and healing supplies.

It was about half occupied, mostly by archers, drawing their bows and shooting at the dummies while the magically oriented just used their spells in the bottom of the pit, explosions and bursts of flames flinging gravel and small rocks around, peppering the dummies around.

Alister and Tanya looked at each other, a little excited as they realized they could take a spot for themselves and they took place on a free lane on the far left side of the range. Waiting for the end of the current round, they prepared their targets, dragging them into the pit at a reasonable distance. The practice would be effective only if they could realistically hit with their sling and his spells.

The couple mages, archers and other range fighters eyed the two pre-teens, amused by their presence. The ones recently arrived would raise an eyebrow at Allister but otherwise quickly went back to their practice.

Tanya was the first ready of the two, taking a smoothed stone out of her bag and armed her sling. Soon the rock was orbiting around her hand quickly as she aimed at her mark 15 meters from her and suddenly let go, the rock impacting the dummy’s “head” with a meaty noise. The rock bounced off and ended its trajectory further in the pit.

Allaster grinned (Really just bared his teeth more, which was kind of scary to the ones not familiar with him) and applauded his friend, leaning forward to look at the target.

“Nice shot!” He said, arching his back, his tail curling up until he heard and felt it pop. Relaxing, he took his own sling out of his bag and a rock out of his pouch, ready to swing.

His own shot went wide, missing the target by a wide margin, the stone glancing off on the pit,some gravel flying around. “...Erf!” Al breathed out, dejected.

“I can’t believe you are so bad at it. You really should practice more.” Tanya said with a little smirk, taking her shot again, the stone making the dummy’s head recoil as it hit again, a couple centimeters from the first shot she took. “See?” She bragged “That ain’t so hard!”

“I am practicing! I try and I try, but I'm just bad at it.” Al pouted, taking another shot, forcing his shoulder to stay in the learned trajectory, feeling it tug uncomfortably for him, but this time hitting the dummy square in its “chest”. He never really liked throwing stuff like that, it felt … wrong, he preferred the times he tried the bow or his Dad’s spear, it felt more natural and it didn’t hurt after a while.

“Yess !” He cheered, Tanya silencing him with another headshot, bouncing off the side, her fired rocks sitting in the pit near each other.

“I know right ? It’s okay, I’m still your friend even if you are trash at it .” She joked as she picked up her pace, more and more rocks raining down the dummy’s head. Alaster heard one of the rangers on their side let out an appreciative whistle at her performance, nodding to himself before going back to his own target, a wood plank with a tightly grouped halo of arrows in a wood knot.

Alaster grumbled a little and stepped back, leaving her at her practice while he observed her and the people around. Some of them used unconventional weapons like lead balls, throwing knives, and he even spotted in the distance someone using bolases. Suddenly, he felt inspiration hitting him and fished out a little wax tablet and his stylus, quickly scribbling something while muttering, which gave his friend a pose. Was he sulking?

Tanya stared at him, completely engrossed by what he was writing, eyes darting up to the range then back down at the tablet and she got a little worried.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can’t be good at everything, Sir “I-send-my-foes-skyward-by accident".

She joked, turning to face him, still muttering, chewing the other tip of his stylus as he focused on what he was writing down.

“Al? Al!” she called, waving her hand near his face to try and snap it out of it.

Al’s eyes went to meet hers and his focused expression wavered before disappearing entirely. “Ah! sorry, I uh… had an idea” he chuckled, his pointy tongue sticking out.

Reviewing his writing quickly, and adjusting it here and there he stopped. “I think I have a solution for my problem.” He finally said, staring at Tanya in the eyes, halfway believing himself.

Now he just had to try.