Three girls in Tuxford yellow bustled behind a counter at the protected end of the guild hall, opposite the entryway. They seemed to be taking down adventurer information and Hattie caught sight of Delphine, a young diviner who was apprenticing under Kendra.

They had only met briefly, since Hattie and Nestor had departed for Tantalus dungeon as soon as possible and Kendra had delayed Delphine’s lessons in favor of Hattie’s instruction. Now Delphine wore a delightful pink dress, brightening the guild as she assessed the adventurers, glowing eyes appraising the confirming their ranks.

A daunting task as scores of adventurers moved in and out of the guildhall. Some were accompanied by yellow uniformed Tuxford men, while others stuck to the shadows, moving with a silent grace that made the hair on Hattie’s neck stand on end. She tried not to stare at the assassins, shivering as their talents appeared in her divine purview.

“This is what a guild is supposed to look like! Except the carpenters.” Giggled Nara, nodding to a group of men standing around Konrad.

Hattie caught sight of the guild’s open kitchen along the far wall. Kendra was there along with a half dozen men and women, stirring pots, chopping carrots, and butchering what had once been a four legged creature. Hattie thought better than to appraise it. She did not wish to know if her breakfast had once had a name.

Nara strode through the guild hall as if she owned it and everyone within it, her swaying hips carved a path through knights and guardsmen for Hattie to follow, muttering apologies for her partner’s actions.

“Two please, for Nara and Hattie.” Called Nara, reaching the half wall that divided the kitchen from the rest of the guild.

At the mention of their names, Kendra spun.

“Remember their faces,” she said to the kitchen staff and cooks, “These two eat for free.” She ordered.

Several cooks blinked dumbly, uncertain if their resident accountant was setting them up for a jest. Kendra was as miserly as Konrad, each and every coin, from copper to platinum, had to be accounted for under her watch. “Free” was not a word she had ever used.

A few nearby adventurers saw the commotion and took notice of the preferential treatment Nara was receiving.

“What kind of shoddy guild keeps a half elf as a hireling?” Muttered a man with a pompous mustache.

Kendra clapped her hands. Startling the staff and reminding them of their duties.

“Eyes on your jobs! I’m in the mood to charge full price for healing severed fingers today.” Warned Kendra, her tone carried a presage of doom, as if she might be the one severing appendages.

Nara thanked her and the staff, retrieving a tray for Hattie and herself. She spun on one foot, her elven figure lending its grace as she aimed for an empty table across the guild hall. She strode past the line of people waiting for their own food. Adventurers and guards who had to pay for their meals. Annoyed faces followed her, connected to brains that wondered why the cursed half elf was here.

The mustachioed man who had called out earlier watched her move, his leering eyes watching her hips sway. He waited until she stepped past him, then he surreptitiously stretched his foot. Poking his boot just far enough out of the line to trip an unsuspecting Nara.

Her elven senses picked out the trick precognitively, feeling his malicious gaze. After all, she had endured thousands of leers, and this trick was far older than she would ever be. She sighed, understanding why the man was posturing like an asshat. If he tripped her then he could be the one to catch her, laying his muddy hands on her and earning karma with other adventurers.

Nara had used this tactic herself, find the most annoying adventurer in the guild and punch them in the dick. After that, even a cursed halfie like her would be welcomed into a party. That was before Nestor Quade had broken her. Before Guildmaster Konrad had named her head adventurer, and before she had sworn her life to Hattie.

Nara danced onto the outstretched foot, making sure to spin on it, grinding her full weight onto the man’s foolish endeavor. Her other foot caught the man behind the knee, breaking his poise and knocking him to the floor.

Unfortunately, he was not satisfied with his subtle defeat. Rage colored the man’s face, brought on by a stranger seeing through him. Blind fury made him lash out at the nearest target, a slender, orange haired girl.

He balled his fist and aimed a haymaker at Hattie. Its path would come from below, sending the tray into her face then connecting with her chin.

A fatal mistake.

Nara had spent her time well. During her confinement in prison and the days at Hattie’s side she had accepted her level ups.

Every free attribute point was allocated to agility, though when she began receiving multiple points she made sure to give her strength some love. As an archer she had always focused on agility, raising the stat into the low two hundreds before Nestor’s inheritance.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Now -with an agility over five hundred- the world was different. Every movement carried a newfound precision. Each step she took seemed light and graceful. Those around her appeared uncoordinated and clumsy, like teenagers in the middle of their growth spurt, awkward and gangly.

The mustachioed man in front of her was no different. He yanked his arm back, winding his arm for a haymaker, Nara frowned at his form, critiquing how he wiggled his elbow from side to side instead of pulling it directly back. She watched his arm flare, licking her teeth as an opportunity presented itself. Her foot flew with the focus of a laser, kicking him in the armpit.

Her kick pushed his torso forward and to the right, while his wind up pulled his arm straight back. Instantly dislocating the humerous from the shoulder. Mustachio cried out in agony, jerking sideways to avoid further pain.

Nara considered drawing her knife and cutting the man’s throat, it was proper, he had raised his hand against an unarmed girl half his size, not only that, she was a diviner. A protected class. Killing him would be condemned, but ultimately nothing would come of it, Konrad held the purse for a dozen local lords. Nara envisioned the path the knife would cut, a short arc from her belt through the man’s spine twelve inches of movement would secure Hattie’s life. All she needed to do was shift her weight forward a half step.

Her fingers gripped the hilt of her dagger, of Nestor Quade’s dagger.

Nara let the man flop. What had she been thinking? Murdering a posturing fool was something Piper would have considered, not Nara. She shook her head, disgusted by what she had almost done and ready to take it out on the fallen man.

“Hey mustachio.” Called Nara, waiting for him to glower at her.

“You can thank me later. The girl you almost hit is the guild’s highest ranked diviner. Go read the bylaws, last I checked the guild will fine you a gold piece for each HP of damage you would have dealt her. If they didn’t revoke your license.” Finished Nara.

“Aaaaaahhhh! Fuuuu!!!” Groaned the mustache.

No doubt he wished to be anywhere but there. The level of his idiocy would spread throughout the guild, forming a party would be like pulling teeth, one pointless rhetorical question after another.

“Oh does that hurt? Sorry -yank-”

“Why did you take a swing at a diviner? Sorry, our party is full.”

He ground his forehead into the floor, thumping it twice in regret. He reached over his should with his free hand, catching the back of his dislocated arm. Muscles tensed in apprehension of what he was about to do, his whole body clenched as he forced his arm back into its socket. A meager attempt of saving face in front of his peers.

Nara was already gone. Walking towards the empty table without a second thought for the man. Hattie wanted to stop and heal the man, but one look at his purple face sent her running.

An uncanny silence fell across the guildhall as the lunchroom brawl played out. Many were thankful that no blood had been spilt, as was all too common amongst the sell swords. While others found the events boring, yearning for violence. One such thinker rose from his seat. Barking a challenge.

“Punching a man out of the blue? Just the sort of back stabbing I would expect from a knife-eared bitch.” Called the man.

Nara wanted to let it go, but that would not have served Hattie. I should have cut his throat, then the others would know not to test the head adventurer. She stopped in her tracks, turning and sizing up the man. Making sure he saw her look him up and down, raising an eyebrow at what she found. Nara was a tall woman, but this fellow might just have a cyclops in his family tree. He dwarfed her, standing almost eight feet tall and half covered in furs. Yellow pants contrasted too brightly against his motley jerkin of gray and brown furs.

His attire was entirely out of place in the sea of Tuxford yellow uniforms. Quite the feat since his yellow pants should have blended in, yet, they were a few shades darker, contrasting in a gauche fashion. He leaned on a two handed warhammer, a metal shafted monstrosity that weighed enough to break the wielder’s arms if they were too weak. Spots of patina and lines of darkened steel displayed the weapon’s age and experience. Wear and discoloration that came from leaving blood on a weapon. Or from week long delves. It was hard to clean weapons in the darkness of a dungeon, harder still to keep blood off them when they were being used hourly.

Hattie pulled up his status plate,

Name: Hector Polyphemus

Class: Warrior

Rank: 46

HP 8600/8600

MP -/-

Strength: 442

Agility: 24

Intelligence: 22

“How about I pick on you. Pull you apart like you did to him.” Shouted Hector, interrupting Hattie’s assessment.

“Posturing before breakfast is stupid.” Said Nara.

She vanished. Leading to cries of annoyance from the onlookers.

“Ha, one more cowardly half life. Go waste your life in a hole- oh!” Began Hector, his taunt ended as his yellow pants fell to the floor.

He jerked upright, trying to catch his pants before he was displayed to the whole guild. His hands fell on bare thighs, a moment too late to avoid the exhibition.

Nara reappeared near Hattie, the giant’s warhammer in one hand and her breakfast tray in the other. She hefted the steel shaft, giving it an experimental twirl.

“Huh, strange. I expected a bigger hammer.” Said Nara.

Hector’s jaw dropped open in surprise. Then a smile spread across his face. Placing his hands on his hips he thrust his pelvis forward a few inches, embracing the naked embarrassment.

“Room 22. If anyone thinks my hammer is too small, they can come by my room and get an eyeful!” Hollered the man, giving Nara a wink.

Hattie blushed and looked away from the hammer. From her perspective it looked more like a third arm than a tool, but she was no expert.

Raukous laughter filled the guild hall. Shaking the rafters and making the tables shake as men and women pounded on them. A chuckle escaped Nara’s lips, appreciating the man’s jovial nature. Several moments of laughter passed before it was abruptly curtailed by a bellow.

“My guild is not a brothel. I do not give a damn if it’s a hammer or a cock, put it away!” Roared Konrad.

Hector jumped, turning to see who was shouting. When he realized it was the Guildmaster he bent at the waist, unintentionally giving Konrad an eyeful as he tried to comply with his request. Eliciting a new wave of laughter.

Konrad clenched his jaw, scowling death at anyone who dared meet his eyes, but Nara saw the truth. His jaw gave him away. Konrad was quick with his wit, him keeping his jaw closed meant he was fighting not to laugh. Hector retrieved his pants, managing to cover himself without further mishaps.

The laughter slowly faded and the guild’s normal chatter began to return. Guildmaster Konrad Roark spoke again, making a point to speak loudly enough for all to hear.

“Head adventurer Nara, thank you for not killing my new recruits. It’s always a pain to find replacements.” He called, sparking a wave of murmuring.

“Recruits?” She asked, feigning innocence.

A wicked smile crossed her face, “Maybe there is some hope for this batch. After all, they are bigger than the militia.” Quipped Nara.

Her joke earned a few tired smiles, and Nara finally found her seat. Order returned to the guild hall and the adventurers went about their business. Delphine, with her pink dress, healed the mustachioed man. Giving him a finger wagging afterwards.

Diviners were the most common healers, largely because the Heal spell was part of the class, and could be acquired as early as level one. An early bias that made low level Diviners valuable to all parties.

They were also one of the least common adventuring classes. Being a noncombatant class meant they did not gain XP from the dungeons like frontline classes. Nor did they need the wealth that came from dungeons since magic healing was in demand everywhere on the continent.

An intrusive thought entered Hattie’s cerebellum.

“Nara, did you… I mean, was that fight… on purpose?” She asked.

Nara smiled, a spoonful of soup between her lips, and winked.