Jack squeezed hard, feeling the sticky spread of his blood as it oozed out against the slick surface of the stone. They sure love their blood magic, these mundians, he thought. In any case, he kept up the pressure, supposedly infusing the token with his ‘essence’. Presumably Tiarraluna had done the same, along with every other member of the guild. Seemed overly complicated, but whatever.

“Alright,” Tiarraluna translated for the guildmaster, who tossed him a towel. “That is enough. Wipe the stone clean with this cloth and give them both to me.”

He did as instructed, looking down at his new ID before handing it over. It had gone from a sort of clear quartz to a smokey dark, almost black onyx. Far darker than Tiarraluna’s had been from the short glimpses of it he’d gotten earlier.

The guildmaster fed the stone into the reader, and the translucent image of Jackson Grenell, gentleman adventurer sprang to life above it. Every detail, from his current tunic right down to the fiery red, suspiciously hand print shaped splash the size of a pancake smeared across his forehead.

His hand went instinctively to the place the burn had been, though there was almost no trace left after Tiarraluna’s ministrations. Obviously, the reader and mirror were connected somehow.

“Well, now,” Jonkins muttered. "Eighteen years old?” he looked over at Jack. “The way you handle yourself?”

“The transfer affects the physical body, Grandmother says,” Tiarraluna answered for Jack, who had no idea what had been said. “So far as Mund is concerned, Jack san is apparently eighteen.”

“Right.” Jonkins looked back to the projection. Agility and strength were both stupidly high for his rank, perception even moreso. Oh, right. That was the effect of the sentinel class adding two points to each of those stats. As was his ability to use just about anything he picked up as a weapon.

Intelligence was a cut or two above the norm, but nothing spectacular for an artificer. Wisdom was moderately high for his given age, but not, he supposed, for the age he’d been before coming here. Whatever that might be. He’d really like to discuss tactics or philosophy over a pint. He’d wager the journey had shaved five or ten years from him. The only low stat of the lot was endurance, and that one wasn’t exactly bad, but for its comparison with the others.

“Well,” he waved a hand. “Jehsha definitely saw him, and accepted. He’s got the bonuses and traits of his classes noted. Even the weapon ranks and percentage bonuses I granted out on the floor, and that’s a neat trick, since I haven’t entered them in yet. And an overall level of nine?” he looked to the boy again, shaking his head. “Nine. Well,” he shrugged, throwing up his hands. “Who’m I to gainsay Jehsha? Let’s go look at the board.” he slid the token from the slot and tossed it to Jack as he made for the far side of the guild’s main hall. Jack would have preferred to have examined the field awhile longer. Maybe have the girl explain some of those class traits to him.

The bounty board was huge, covering the whole of the long wall, from knee height to a good stretch above for a tall man. It was, Tiarraluna explained, divided into sections, separating quests of differing levels for differing party ranks.

“I have a few questions,” Jack announced as the guildmaster came to a halt before what would be the section for rank nineteen parties. In truth, the banner read ranks fifteen to twenty, but he still couldn’t read tandrian.

Tiarraluna translated, fearing what the questions would be. Jack san was no fool, and she thought that she already knew their general thread.

“We’ve been here all morning,” Jack began. “And yet I haven’t seen another soul enter the hall. Nor have I heard any noise beyond what we’ve been making ourselves. The section of the market that would normally cater to adventures is a ghost town, and looks to have been so for awhile.

“I haven’t seen anybody who might be mistaken for a guardsman since... well, at all. Not a one. Not inside the town, nor outside on our way here. And every living soul I saw outside the walls looked terrified.”

Tiarraluna sighed resignedly, but duly translated.

“Astute observations,” the guildmaster allowed. “But I’ve heard no questions.”

“One question, then,” Jack frowned. “Why? Where is everybody? The guards, the adventurers who should be around? The army? Oh, and another. This area, if I’m not horribly wrong, shouldn’t be dangerous enough to have so many unfulfilled bounties. Why aren’t they being served?”

Again, Tiarraluna translated, her voice low. The guildmaster sighed this time as well, rolling his shoulders. He looked up at the bounty wall and out the doorway into the street before answering.

“There are five guardsmen in Mokkelton,” he said slowly, voice somber. “The highest ranked among them, their captain, is rank four. And that’s counting his bonus for being within the walls. He crosses out through the gate and he’s back down to three. He’s thirteen and a half years old.

“As for adventurers,” he said with no more vigor. “With Tiarraluna here, and now that you’re officially one of us, the total number within the walls has gone up to four, counting your friend Mohrdrand. There’s two more out on a quest, and they’ll complete the rolls of the Mokkelton guild as of this moment. One of them is also a freshly minted rank four, although he’s four at baseline.”

Six. In a town of this size? Jack thought, stunned. No, make that four. I’ve only just gotten here, and Tiarraluna’s from out of town. “How is that even possible?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Tiarraluna didn’t bother to translate. “You must understand, Jack san,” she told him earnestly. “The demon lord may be gone, but he was defeated only slightly more than a year ago.”

“And?” he prompted.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Did you think the hero simply marched himself alone up the dark road to the demon lord’s obsidian fortress to slay him? No, Jack san,” she shook her head firmly. “Every soldier. Every adventurer. Every guard, even, marched with him save a very, very few. Mohrdrand and grandmother,” she clarified. “Despite their power, are very old, and no longer fit for the battlefield or its trials. And so,” she finished. “Only they were left to guard the town.” She half turned to the guildmaster. “And lord Jonkins, who’s duty is to Mokkelton and the guild, which must always be manned.

“Surely,” he started, but she stopped him. “I remained behind because I was not old enough to go when the last of the reinforcements marched out nearly three years ago.

“It’s the same for Tiglund and the guards,” Jonkins supplied then. “Cable was brought home by a group of the ungifted before the final campaign began. Wounded beyond the ability of any save Rosaluna to heal, but stubbornly clinging to life. By the time he’d recovered enough to walk on his own, the demon lord was gone, and so he stayed. He’s been working to keep the worst of the problems at bay, but he’s only one man trying to cover an area that used to be served by a hundred or more.”

“But aren’t there always gifted being born?” Jack asked, confused. “Always some ready to begin training?”

Tiarraluna rocked back as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jack san,” she narrowed her eyes. “How many of us do you think there are? Do we grow on trees, perhaps? Or are we planted like vegetables for harvest?

“One child, or perhaps two of a hundred is granted any gifts at all,” she told him. “And most of those are born to the nobility. Even then, of all those born with gifts, no more than a third have any useful talent with them. Even of those, most gifts are not particularly useful in adventuring. We are rare, Jack san,” she repeated. “And, even were there dozens of us milling about, Who do you suppose would train us? Lord Jonkins, perhaps? His skills are not unlimited, nor universal. I was fortunate enough to have my grandmother to train me. Most are not so lucky.”

He stood for the scolding. He deserved it, he supposed. What were there around Mokkelton, five or six thousand people, maybe? Lucky they had as many as they did.

“But,” he had a thought. “You told me the demon lord was killed over a year ago, didn’t you?”

“Approximately.”

“So where is everybody, then?” he wondered. “Why haven’t any of those who went off to fight come home?”

Neither the girl nor the guildmaster had an answer, and there was the problem.

“Fine,” he ran a hand across his face, glaring up at the board, temper flaring. “You know what? Fine. Which of these is the most urgent then?”

“That you can handle, you mean?” the guildmaster prompted.

Jack looked over his shoulder at the man, his eyes steady. “What’s urgent?” he repeated. “What’s getting people killed?”

Jonkins returned the stare thoughtfully. Drifting through his mind were the memories of watching the boy in the arena and the improbable class he’d been given. Sentinel. An old class. A special class. There were powers at play here. Powers he wasn’t privy to. But he’d been at this game a long time, had Guildmaster Jonkins, and he knew a thing or two.

“I think I probably know the answer already,” he asked sort of casually. “But you ever kill a man? I mean close up, at arm’s reach, while you looked him in the eye.” The way Jack’s eyes went to flint told him everything he needed.

To Tiarraluna. “You, little one?”

She shook her head. “Beasts only,” she admitted. “Beasts and low level monsters.”

“Could you?” he asked. “If it came down to it? If you had to? Could you end a human being?”

“I...” she stumbled. “If I must... if....”

Both men were giving her the eye.

“What’s the bounty?” Jack asked into the silence.

“On its face?” the guildmaster replied after Tiarraluna’s stuttering translation. “No more than a scout, with the potential to turn into a cleanup.

“We’ve been getting reports of troubles to the north. Travelers waylaid, mostly. Bodies found on the roads, stripped of valuables. Now some of the locals have gone missing. Some steadings have been raided and pillaged.

“Bandits, obviously,” he nodded when Jack would speak. “But we haven’t gotten any clear notion of how many or who. That’s the job. Find out who’s doing it. If it’s only normal brigands, see if you can bring them in, but don’t be silly about it. Dead or alive, ungifted bandits are worth two silver rondels each.

“If they’re gifted, and there are only a few of them and they’re low enough rank, feel free to take them out. The pay is two gold rondels per rank for each of them you bring back proof of death for. Plus, of course, whatever plunder you retrieve from them.

“If you decide that there are too many of them, or if they’re too strong,” he went on. “Hie yourselves on back here and we’ll try to figure something out. In that case, you get ten gold rondels for the location of the camp.”

Jack gave Tiarraluna a long look. He was ready, but he doubted she was. “How about it, little sister?” he asked finally.

The name got him a hint of her old glare, but she didn’t follow it up. “I... I will try, Jack san,” she said slowly. “I... I cannot promise...”

“No need,” he shook his head. “Just try, that’s all I ask. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“You are very sure, Jack san,” her eyes narrowed.

“Not my first rodeo,” he smiled, though it was a cold sort of smile, and the rodeo part had her frowning at her ring again.

“We will take the bounty, Lord Jonkins,” she nodded to the guildmaster.

“Are you sure?” he asked dubiously.

Another look to Jack, before, “yes, Lord Jonkins,” she nodded again. “We are sure.”

Back to the counter and he took their tokens, sliding them together into the reader, sliding the bounty into another slot. “As the higher ranking member and leader,” he wondered over his shoulder to Tiarraluna, “do you want to assign a name to your party?”

“No thank you,” she answered quickly, without consulting Jack. “Perhaps later,” she added, casting a sideways glance to her companion.

There was no keyboard to the device. Notations were made longhand with a quill pen within a shimmering field. Notations done, a bounty token slid out the bottom of the reader and into the guildmaster’s hand. Similar to the guild tokens, it was larger, and engraved with a glyph. He withdrew it and their guild tokens and passed them back to their owners. “You’re now officially assigned the bounty,” he smiled. “Good luck to you both. Now get lost, I’ve got work to do.” He turned without further ceremony and vanished into the building’s interior.

“Is this normal here?” Jack asked softly as he regarded the empty doorway, thinking of his erstwhile hostess and her habits.

“Not really,” Tiarraluna replied equally softly, herself giving attention to the empty portal. “At least, I do not think so. I remind you, Jack san, this is not my home guild, and their ways may be different. In any case, shall we be on about our business?”

Jack stared down at his guild token, really wanting to get a more in depth idea of what was going on with it. But they’d pretty clearly been dismissed, so he turned towards the outer door, nodding. “May as well,” he shrugged as he slid the token into his pouch.