As Dave meandered through the market amongst the throng of crowds, he tested the powers of his bracelet.

The very peculiar hexagon-textured trinket held the power to unravel the mysteries of the Shandrian language, effortlessly translating otherwise undecipherable words of the locals into comprehensible sentences that danced within his mind.

Controlling the translator turned out to be quite simple.

"Stop translating," Dave spoke to the bracelet.

At once, the chorus of clear voices around him transformed into a symphony of gibberish, while cryptic letters of the Shandrian alphabet filled his vision.

Dave meticulously savored the cacophony of voices and the peculiar harmonies they produced. He tasted the melodic tones of the foxkin, the sharp syllables of short gemstone-covered humanoids, and the soothing whispers of the green nymphs. Each language was a new flavor, expanding his palate and heightening his appreciation for the boundless variety of local culture.

Having enjoyed linguistics, he headed to the local Adventurers Guild.

The Guild was a grandiose institution housed within the white walls of a repurposed cathedral.

The cavernous interior was a kaleidoscope of colors, filled with an array of miniature tent-shops that beckoned to curious souls seeking adventure.

Whimsical tents, adorned with symbols and sigils, offered an assortment of equipment, from well-crafted swords and sturdy armor to intricate maps of subterranean labyrinths and esoteric scrolls that held the secrets of ancient spells. The air was thick with the scent of leather, parchment, and the faint aroma of ozone-disrupting magic.

Each tent basked in the glow of myriad colorful lights, their ethereal hues casting an otherworldly aura upon the wares within. The salespeople who tended to these establishments were as intriguing as their merchandise, engaging in animated conversations with clients whose fates would soon be intertwined with dangerous journeys into the local mountains.

At the heart of this bustling bazaar beneath gothic arches stood the largest tent of all that housed a lively pub. Within, a motley assortment of bloodied and weary or cheerful men, women, and creatures sought solace in hearty meals and the camaraderie of fellow monster killers and dungeon delvers.

Dave traversed the river of tents. His journey led him to the epicenter of it all: the front desk of the Adventurers Guild.

"Token?" the woman behind the desk inquired as she looked at Dave.

Dave in turn examined the Guild Secretary's unique appearance. She looked like a fusion of human and jellyfish. Beneath her translucent, silver skin, intricate networks of gossamer strands were visible, their iridescent hues shifting and pulsating with each subtle movement. Her hair was a curious cascade of jellyfish-like tendrils that undulated around her head as if caught in the embrace of an unseen current.

Dave carefully unclasped the token from the chain on his wrist, and handed it to the woman. She received the medallion with practiced grace, sliding it over a rune etched into the surface of her desk. The rune emanated a brief, soft glow as it recognized the token's authenticity.

"Welcome to the Church of Saint Kellsion, the first Adventurer," the Secretary said, her smile warm. "The job board for beginners is just over there, Dave." She gestured toward a nearby wall adorned with a large board, upon which a multitude of copper tablets shimmered with a dull luster. "Simply tap a copper plate with your token if you wish to accept a job."

"And where might I find the board for experts?"

The Secretary's smile widened. "That would be in one of the private rooms upstairs," she replied. "Once you've displayed your prowess by completing a sufficient number of low-level jobs, your token will grant you access to increasingly higher floors and the deadly challenges that await seasoned pros."

"Ah, I see," Dave mused.

"As a newly registered member of the Shandria Adventurers, you are now entered into our general ledger," the Secretary continued. "If you wish to secure better-paying jobs tailored to your unique magical talents or innate skills, you may disclose them to me now."

Dave shook his head.

"I'll pass," he said. He harbored no desire to reveal the true extent of his Phantomancy skill to the Guild.

Approaching the board adorned with copper tablets, Dave perused the various jobs posted for fledgling adventurers like himself. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the assortment of tasks, which ranged from the mundane to the peculiar. Most of the jobs seemed more fitting for a handyman or a babysitter than for an aspiring hero, but he supposed that all great adventurers had to start somewhere.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Among the more amusing jobs he noticed were:

"Serpent Sitter: Caring for a family of mischievous baby basilisks while their parents are away. Must provide own blindfold."

"Goblin Negotiator: Convincing a horde of goblin vagabonds to vacate a local farmer's barn. Diplomacy skills are a plus."

"Potion Taster: Sampling a selection of experimental potions to test their effects. Strong constitution and willingness to experience temporary side effects required."

"Haunted Housekeeper: Tidying up an old manor infested with poltergeists. Patience and a good sense of humor essential."

"Damsel Escort: Accompanying a noblewoman on her daily errands while fending off unwanted suitors. Must be adept at wielding a fan and delivering polite yet firm rejections."

"Pixie Pest Control: Rounding up a swarm of mischievous pixies that have overrun a local bakery. Previous experience with butterfly nets and a love of pastries a bonus."

Dave couldn't help but chuckle at the irregularity of some of the tasks. Among the various quests, one caught his eye - "Bring metal bugs to the Divaliss Smithy. Reward - 50 coppers for 100 bugs."

"Ah, competition," Dave mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

A cunning plan began to take shape in his mind. If he could harvest 100 metal bugs, he could not only earn a bit of coin but also seize the opportunity to investigate a rival smithy. By doing so, he might glean valuable insights and ideas to bring back to Remicra.

With a decisive flourish, Dave tapped the copper plate bearing the enticing bug-collection quest with his token. The copper plate responded with a brilliant flash, and in tandem, a blue screen materialized above the surface of his bracelet.

[Shandria Adventurers Guild - QUEST: Bring back one hundred metal bugs to the Divaliss Smithy for half a silver.]

[Accept: Y/N?]

"Yes," Dave affirmed his choice.

At this word, the copper plate disengaged from the board and clattered into a receptacle positioned below. The Secretary, observing Dave's actions, chimed in.

"Clip the job plate to your bracelet," she advised.

Dave picked up the square plate with a hole on the corner, deftly attaching it to the black bracelet that held both his token and a modest amount of disposable funds.

"If the bugs chew your face off, the coroner will be able to identify you and we'll know what to put on your gravestone," the Secretary quipped with a smirk, "Here lies Dave, a brave soul devoured by his ambitions... and metal bugs."

"Gee, thanks for that dark image," he commented.

"Gotta keep novices on their toes," the Secretary replied nonchalantly, her eyes twinkling.

Emboldened by his new quest, Dave set about gathering the various items requested by Remicra.

As Dave neared the lighthouse, the spectral violin within his soul began to play a tense melody, a subtle indication that something was amiss. He slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings. It wasn't long before he noticed a fresh set of footprints imprinted in the muddy path, leading up to the entrance of the lighthouse.

With caution as his guide, Dave circled the towering structure, his senses on high alert. He spotted a small hole in the grimy stained-glass window and approached it, wincing as sharp, rose-like flowers nipped at his ankles.

Inside the smithy, a gray figure was engaged in animated conversation with Remicra. As they spoke, Remicra's mood-ring-like scales shifted through a kaleidoscope of colors.

Dave pressed closer to the window, straining to catch snippets of the conversation between the pair.

As Dave's eyes grew accustomed to the dimly lit interior of the smithy, he noted the appearance of the enigmatic visitor. It was a gray-skinned female, with stony features that looked as if they had been meticulously chiseled from solid rock. Adorning her head was a gleaming arrangement of white crystal gemstone spikes. Some of the spikes cascaded down in delicate strands of quartz crystal beads, akin to braids.

The crystalline girl's voice cut through the air, her tone firm. "There was a spike in the ward log," she stated. "Are you keeping the tower clear of pests?"

In response, Remicra's scales shifted to a yellow-orange hue, betraying her unease.

"A bird might have gotten in at night," the dragoness offered, her words cloaked in ambiguity.

"Birds are of no interest to the shadows," the visitor countered, shaking her head. "They seek only to devour intelligent beings with greater sparks of magic. Your scales suggest that you are concealing something. A visitor, perhaps?"

At this accusation, Remicra's scales rapidly darkened, a visual manifestation of her growing anxiety.

"Thought so," the crystal-rock female said, a note of triumph in her voice.

"Go to hell, Overseer," the dragoness hissed out, her anger palpable.

"Alas, you cannot deceive me," the Overseer replied, her words tinged with a dismissive air. "The collar disrupts your innate defenses and presents your emotions to me as clear as day. Now, if you would be so kind as not to waste my time, confess as to who was here last night. I have twenty-seven more properties of Lord Burgundy to visit today, and time is a luxury I cannot afford to squander."

Remicra simply glared in response.

The crystalline girl made a sudden motion, pressing something on her wrist, and the dragoness hissed in agony, collapsing to her knees as though the unseen strings supporting her body had been severed.

"Who was it?" The Overseer asked, spinning the dial on her wrist.

"N-nobody," Tears burst from Remicra's eyes as she rolled on the floor and clawed at the collar on her neck while the stone girl watched her suffering with an impassioned look.

"Do I need to increase the pain further, or will you cease wasting my time?" the Overseer demanded after another minute, her voice cold and unyielding.

"FFFF-fine," the dragoness choked out, her claws clenching and unclenching as she struggled to regain control. "I'll tell you everything. A human..."

Dave's heartbeat quickened, the rhythmic pulsing resonating within his chest. A pang of uncertainty gnawed at him, as he wondered if all of his magic blacksmithing plans were on the verge of falling apart before they even had a chance to unfold.