Robin’s first glimpse of Noviel came from the hills that bordered the city to the southwest. It was hot and dusty and, though his enchanted ring kept him from needing water or feeling actual thirst, the dry grit between his teeth had him aching for a drink like a child ached to tear into their first present on Christmas morning.

He should have stored more supplies in his extradimensional space.

Even that feeling, however, was not enough to seriously dampen his amazement at the first view of Noviel.

The city soared. Not to the heights of Manhattan or Tokyo, nor in the same ways, but the wall that ringed the city was studded with tall towers: spell artillery towers, Grathilde had said. And in the centre of the city was a soaring hulk of a building that looked to have mountainous aspirations. It was vast and solid, a massive, conical tower that sprouted smaller towers like the very upright branches of a tree.

Robin could make out several smaller (but still substantial) towers throughout the city, several connected with soaring walkways and bridges and even what looked like crystal tunnels. Brass plating and trim on the roofs was popular, and the city glittered like a collection of miniature suns in the early summer light.

‘Finally,’ Grathilde grumbled, but her words lacked their usual edge.

‘Home,’ Fiamah said happily. ‘Look, Robin, the white building there, with the seven towers and the golden towers? That’s the Church of—’

‘Just say it’s home, Fi,’ Grathilde cut in. ‘The whole name is such a mouthful.’

Robin repressed a snort of laughter. Fiamah looked so offended.

‘Come on,’ Lantha cut through the shenanigans. ‘Let’s get moving. We still have to make it to the Guild headquarters.’

Robin’s heart picked up the pace and his feet followed.

The Gates of Noviel were massive but stood open wide. Robin would have bet heavy money on their having a way to operate via magic. They would have taken a whole company of city guards to shift, otherwise. Though there could also be some sort of clever mechanism hidden in the walls.

He passed under and through the gates with a minimum of fuss. Lantha had some sort of badge that allowed them all through without inspection. If Robin were less attached to his spleen, he might risk Lantha’s wrath to try stealing and forging himself a copy. A fast pass in and out of places was always handy.

The sights beyond the wall, however, swiftly drove such thoughts from his head. Noviel was exciting. The city was busy, especially here near the gates. Vendors had set up food and drinks stalls mostly to snap up the custom that was tired and wanting from waiting in line for entrance to the city, or exhausted from the journey in from the outer farmlands and estates.

Though here, the food seemed to be sold relying heavily on its quality or its flavour, rather than simply being hearty and filling. It was slightly different from Robin’s expectations. As he watched, a small girl tugged at her mother’s hand, begging for one of the treats.

‘You don’t need it,’ her mother said firmly. ‘We each had a drop of [Sustaining Dew] this morning before we left! You don’t need anything to eat.’

‘But I’ve never tried candied acorns before,’ the child countered. ‘And you and father are always saying I should try new things!’

Robin watched with amusement as the child badgered her mother into buying the treat for her. He wished he dared summon his new familiar to share in the sights and sounds, but he didn’t think that was wise.

Not yet.

There was evidence of magic everywhere. The candied acorn vendor, for example, used some form of enchanted stone to heat his cart. Illusions called to them, permanent enchantments that spoke with alluring voices or brightly-coloured signs that popped into view as they neared, only to disappear as they passed by without stopping.

‘You can make a good bit of coin with illusions once you know how to make them permanent, if you have the artistic eye for it,’ Lantha noted.

‘If you’re not too busy dancing to Zahn’s flute like Lantha here,’ Grathilde said in a stage whisper.

Zahn Tossh was the Leader of the Noviel Adventurers Guild as well as the Captain of the White Star Company (the one the Sisters Sharp belonged to). Robin had gathered that Lantha and Fiamah thought very highly of him, Ora-Jean was indifferent, and Grathilde both respected him and resented being ordered about by him.

Not that Grathilde liked taking orders from anyone.

‘That will depend entirely on which guilds and companies Robin decides to join, if any,’ Lantha said firmly.

‘Wait, how many options are there?’ Robin wrenched his attention back to the conversation and away from the latest in the series of increasingly elaborate illusions competing for his attention.

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The Sisters Sharp laughed.

‘A lot,’ Ora-Jean said succinctly.

‘You’ll likely wish to join at least the Adventurers Guild and whichever guild that bards belong to as a group,’ Fiamah seemed primed to go into lecture mode again. ‘And you’ll need to form your own party, of course.’

‘You can’t join ours,’ Grathilde said bluntly. ‘You’re not ranked high enough yet, amongst other reasons.’

Lantha shot the dwarf a quelling glance.

Robin didn’t doubt the truth of her words, though he was a little annoyed that this was the first he was hearing of this. He didn’t feel used or misled, precisely, but he did feel slightly miffed that they were just telling him now that they were in Noviel, rather than on the road. Why wait?

Lantha was definitely up to something.

‘Here we are,’ Ora-Jean said, cutting off further conversation.

The building before them was all ornate stone and flapping banners. Robin thought it looked slightly new-classical in design, though the stained glass windows were more medieval-looking. The whole edifice radiated power and assurance.

The design of a starburst surrounding a fist clenching the hilt of a broken sword was in evidence pretty much everywhere. It was the emblem of the Noviel Adventurers Guild, and Robin thought it a bit much, personally, but who was he to judge?

It was even carved on the dark oak doors they pushed through to enter the guildhall proper. They passed through an entryway, along a short hallway studded with doors, and into a large hall, bright with sunlight streaming through the high windows. On one end, the one they stood at, there were several tables, a large pair of notice boards heavy with flyers, and a collection of various adventurers. At the other end were a series of desks and accompanying orderly queues.

The place was noisy, too. There were enough people in here that, even if they hadn’t been talking, there would have been a constant flow of sound as people shifted and walked through the hall. But there were voices all around, talking, arguing, gossiping.

‘—of course she lost the arm! You don’t approach a manticore like that—’

‘—all here because there’s rumour a new treasure has been uncovered beneath the city. No, not within the bounds of—’

‘—of course I consulted the diviners! And the seeresses, prophets, and every other two-bit fortune-teller I can find! They’re all charging ludicrous—’

Robin swiped a glance at the nearest notice board. They seemed like job postings. Possibly quests. Each one had both an image and words printed on it. They seemed to be roughly grouped in accordance to the symbols at the top, and each had a notation at the bottom that looked like reward details. He spotted several listing coppers, silvers, or gold, as well as a few with stranger recompense. Chickens, for example, or equipments. He saw one that listed its reward as an enchanted ring before he was forced to follow the Sisters Sharp deeper into the hall.

Lantha led them through it all, past the tables, past the desks, and toward a nondescript door at the back.

‘Excuse me!’ An arrogant looking young man, handsome as anything and outfitted in armour so shiny he might have stolen the family silver and strapped it to his back, was complaining to one of the staffers sitting at the desks. ‘I’ve been waiting here for an hour now to see Guildmagister Tossh. Why does this lot get to jump the queue?’

‘Because this lot has rank, and there are standing orders to show them through as soon as they arrive,’ the young man at the desk said, his tone that of someone who has had a version of this argument several thousand times before and would prefer the sweet embrace of death sooner than have it one more time. ‘And because even if that were not the case, you’re still not next in line.’

‘Do you know who my mother is?’

‘Everyone in this hall knows by now,’ a lithe catkin woman said.

‘Everyone in the city knows, lad,’ a gnome in what looked like brass power-armour added.

Both of them were behind the shining young knight in line.

‘Did no one tell him patience is a virtue?’ Robin wondered aloud, slightly too loudly.

The young knight went crimson while others around him chuckled at the bard’s words. Lantha ignored the whole exchange as beneath her. Instead, the rogue pressed on, passing through the door at a pace that forced the rest of her compatriots to scurry to keep up. The sounds of the hall behind vanished with a click as the door closed behind them.

Robin followed the others up a flight of stairs and down a hall. Lantha led them to, and then through, a door with a brass plaque that read simply ‘Guildmagister.’

Inside was a small waiting room with chairs upholstered in expensive leather with brass studs. There was an impressive desk, behind which sat an older woman working steadily through a pile of paperwork.

‘Take a seat,’ she said, not looking at them. ‘He’ll be with you shortly.’

They sat.

The seat was incredibly comfortable. Robin allowed himself to sink into it, feeling his feet begin to burn with all the walking, now that he was finally off them. He was in much better shape now than he had been on Earth.

Earth. It really felt like another lifetime ago. It was certainly another world. He flexed his fingers through the gestures of [Lesser Phantasm] and conjured a small spiral of stars. He didn’t quite dare make noise here. None of the others were. The only sound was the skritching of the old woman’s quill.

Enchanted. Had to be. Robin couldn’t see an inkwell. Not that he was looking directly at the desk. His instincts told him it was best not to stare, and he definitely needed to be on his best behaviour here. If he was going to have a long and fruitful relationship with the Adventurers Guild, he wanted to make a good first impression.

The silence was wearing, however. It felt oppressive. It didn’t help that Lantha and Ora-Jean kept communicating with veiled glances. Fiamah just sat there looking serene, and Grathilde was entertaining herself by playing with the air currents. Robin would have felt a lot better if he knew more of what was going on. What drawbacks might there be, joining the guild?

They were probably outweighed by the benefits. The access to steady work, and an organisation that would advocate for you in most situations. Robin wondered where the Bards Guild or whatever it was called was located. Probably near the taverns. He’d have to ask Grathilde.

Robin’s musings were interrupted by the opening of the door to the Guildmagister’s office. A tall woman in robes dark as night swept out, accompanied by another in red-enamelled armour with rather more spikes than Robin thought was in good taste for anyone who wasn’t a brutal conqueror in a B-grade fantasy movie from the ‘80s.

They didn’t pause as they swept out, but Robin managed to catch a flicker of annoyance in their eyes as they passed Lantha and the Sisters Sharp. Interesting. Wonder what that was all about?

Then they were gone.

The old woman at the desk didn’t look up, simply pointed with one finger toward the now-open door.

‘Guildmagister Tossh will see you now.’