With a creak, the wooden double doors protested as a young man, leading a little girl, walked into the adventurers' guildhall in the City of Gath.
Some adventurers were mending their gear, while others were swapping tall tales. A few bored souls turned their gaze collectively to the newcomers.
A sneer rose from a corner: "Hey, kid, you're in the wrong place; the poorhouse is down the next street. We don't take orphans here."
A wave of laughter spread through the hall.
Murphy ignored them, pulling Pepe straight to the receptionist and said, "I'd like to apply to be an adventurer. My specialty? Mage."
The receptionist looked up and asked, “What's your current level?”
“Eighteen.”
Silence suddenly befell the hall, and the man who'd sneered earlier shouted, “If you're level eighteen, I'll pluck out my 'silver eye' and hand it to you.”
Murphy paid him no heed.
"How would you like to proceed? Got any proof, or will you take the test?" the receptionist inquired.
Instead of answering, Murphy loosed the drawstring of his pouch, spilling its contents over the wooden counter.
Twenty pristine white skeleton bones piled up, eliciting the sound of a chair tipping over. Murphy glanced back to see the previously cocky man stand up with a flustered face, exclaiming, "No way!"
Now known as ‘Silver Eye,’ the man scurried over to the counter and demanded, "I insist on verifying these bones myself."
"You'll need this gentleman's consent," the receptionist pointed out.
Murphy looked bemused. "Who might you be, exactly?"
It wasn't that Murphy disrespected the man; he genuinely hadn't paid any attention to the loudmouth in the corner.
The man was a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. "I'm Silver Eye, both a swordsman and an appraiser. I'm about to expose your little charade."
Murphy, already immune to such bluster, said nonchalantly, “Be my guest.”
Silver Eye swore this was the most serious appraisal he'd done in years, yet found no fakery.
For a novice, even if they managed to fell a skeleton, they could damage the bone or pick the wrong ones. But these twenty bones, although nineteen seemed average in quality, one ranked as a lesser chieftain's - all genuine, undamaged, not a mark on them.
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Silver Eye wanted to call them junk but couldn't, not with several appraisers in the hall.
Sweating slightly, Silver Eye wondered: all these perfect—were they killed with a single blow?
"Any issues?" Murphy, Pepe, and the receptionist all looked expectantly at Silver Eye.
The bones were spotless. The problem now was how Silver Eye could retract his boast.
"Young man, no, esteemed sir, I apologize for any trouble I've caused. My outburst was inexcusable. These are indeed top-grade white bones."
Silver Eye's tone shifted so sharply it was like yelling an insult from a distance only to find out it was your dear old dad.
"Let’s just say these eyes are my bread and butter, popping one out would be rather hard—and not on the menu. How about this? I don't charge you for appraisals going forward, we can be friends, yeah?"
Murphy cared little for blusterous novices, especially as he could check an item’s stats at will. No need to acquiesce.
Shaking his head, he quipped, “I've no interest in your offer. Let’s go another route: forget donating me an eye – instead, accept the one I'm about to give you.”
Silver Eye was perplexed. “An eye for me? What eye are you giving?”
Murphy smiled benignly, clenching his fist.
As Silver Eye shuffled out of the guild with a bruised eye puffy like a mantou, Murphy’s adventurer certification was ready.
Inspecting the unfamiliar material of the card, Murphy mused like a country bumpkin seeing the big city for the first time, "So this is an adventurer’s ID."
Nobody dared laugh again.
"And for her," Murphy gestured towards Pepe, barely taller than the counter, "She's my assistant, currently an apprentice mage."
On Murphy’s word, Pepe's documentation was arranged promptly, although, as a mere level three human, her card was less refined and of lower quality than Murphy's.
With the five gold coins from selling twenty white bones, the duo left the guild. As they headed towards the Lower Town (the South District), Murphy led the way.
Pepe inquired, "What's the point of the adventurers' guild anyway? I thought just saying I'm an adventurer was enough."
"It’s mainly for ease of management. With a guild, posting and accepting quests, as well as rallying a team becomes convenient."
"True, the guild takes their cut from the quest fees and offers lower-than-market rates for materials, but it's quick and dependable. Saves adventurers time."
"They also offer services like item appraisal and equipment maintenance."
"Overall, the guild saves adventurers loads of time, which is why they've been able to stick around."
"Got it," Pepe nodded. "But then why do we register as adventurers? These perks don't seem to apply to us."
"That's personal, to be honest. I have a penchant for aliases."
"What are aliases?"
"It's like having multiple identities. For instance, I'm Murphy Ferrers, the Demon Lord, but if I want to do something un-demon-lord-like, I need an alias."
"Like when I was dealing with smugglers and acquiring the big house, I used my first alias, 'Mr. Toras,' mainly for business."
"What we did just now was crafting my second alias—a regular mage named Murphy. Seems to have made quite the impression in the guild."
"So, where to next?" The little girl was bamboozled by Murphy's talk of aliases but was excited about their next stop.
"We're going to get another one, of course. Can you ever have too many aliases?"
City of Gath was vast, with the North District housing the counts and the elite, the West District for those like Alaric with some coins but little status, and the East District for guilds, merchant associations, and markets for public facilities. The commoners lived in the South District, the area with lowest elevation.
They trekked downhill from the adventurers' guild in the East District to the South District, finding the tavern Byron mentioned, known to attract third-rate scribes.