“You scum! Give me back my Glints or I’ll gut you where you stand!” the feather-beast yelled.

“You lost the silver when you picked the wrong shell!” the man said.

The blue-feathered beast flashed its talons and threw the conman’s table over before storming off. Three shells clattered on the cobblestone, a tiny red sphere rolled in front of Durge and Ryder.

The late afternoon sun rose, and black clouds gathered on the horizon. Harsh winds plagued the city; banners ripped from their poles, frantic commoners rushed home, and shops closed their shutters early.

“You ever play one of those games?” Durge asked.

“You know Mother wouldn’t have approved me gambling. Aren’t they a trick anyway?”

Durge smirked, “Sometimes.”

The two young men sauntered to the Guild Hall. The storm didn’t make them anxious, the fear of more murderous adventurers did.

They would constantly check to see if they were followed and would take sudden turns down alleys and streets. They didn’t know how many were in that group that ambushed them last, but they knew there were more of them within the city.

Ryder approached the Guild Hall entrance; the resonating sounds of laughter and the glow of candles calmed his nerves. As he opened the doors, he was gleeful to see Rose at the counter and no one staring him down.

The quest board was unsurprisingly empty; even the worst quests were guaranteed to be accepted by someone, if not for the gold, then for the experience or possible rank-up.

Durge immediately turned left to go to the bar section of the Hall. He received two dark brews from the turquoise scale-beast wearing a black vest and white dress shirt.

“Back so soon?” the gecko said in his grizzled voice.

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” Durge cockily replied.

Rose had her nose in an astronomical map, picking a star identifier for a new adventurer. When Ryder waited in line and clutched the sealed letter Mayor Rainier provided, a voice shouted from above.

“Potion-Giver!” a pointy-eared man said.

Ryder’s attention and worry peaked as he looked above. It settled when the familiar elf raised his wine glass and nodded at him, his bandaged wrist leaning off the railing.

Ryder couldn’t help but smile, “If you need any more, let me know!” he exclaimed from below.

“Let us pray I don’t!” the elf laughed and returned to his table.

Rose finally completed registering the adventurer and was shocked at the appearance of the man who stood before her.

“Ryder!”

“Questing hasn’t killed me yet!” Ryder chuckled.

“I thought you were just slaying slimes! Why are you so filthy? Is that your blood!?”

“Tsk. Well…” he gestured towards Durge to come over.

“This already?” he asked with a foam-covered lip.

Ryder took a deep breath, trying not to imagine getting kicked out of the Hall. “So, Rose. This is going to sound bad. But we had to fight other adventurers.”

Rose’s eyes grew wide but she listened attentively.

“We finished the quest. It wasn’t entirely what we thought it’d be but we got it done. Here’s the letter Mayor Rainier gave us.”

Rose unsealed the letter and read the contents. Ryder was anxious about what it said but prayed it told of the vanquishment of slimes. He waited for a response from Rose to confirm… but she never did.

“And then on the road back here, four people ambushed our camp. Long story short, they attacked first, and we had to defend ourselves,” he dropped the scorched silvery dog tag on the counter.

Rose immediately grabbed the tag and read over it. She took out a large leather book and scanned for the inscribed name. “I always knew that guy was off. You did us a favor,” Rose said. “Who were the other three?”

“Two meaty fucking orcs and a piss wizard,” Durge answered.

“Huh,” she responded, flipping through pages of the book. “Why did they attack you?”

Durge sipped his ale in between words, “They wanted to kill Catwood. And they didn’t like us going into the fancy man’s office.”

“It happened so fast but he screamed how the Hall could’ve sent us to kill him or do something illegal, but—”

“Something illegal?” Rose asked. “The Guild Hall only operates because we do everything lawfully. And we don’t usually commission our own quests, a patron would have to do that. This man would only be the target of a slaying quest by being a wanted fugitive. Additionally, whenever we build a new branch, we have to assign local leaders and hire couriers to ensure no unlawful quests are permitted. If we didn’t, farmers would put out slaying quests on their neighbor’s roosters!” she laughed. “And don’t even get me started on the headaches upper management has to go through with those local overseers. New borders are always being drawn up, laws always changing, it’s just too much work. Luckily, the worst I have to deal with is quest patrons wanting to haggle the fee of three gold for us to pin up their quest. Some people, huh?”

“So can we get our reward now?” Durge asked.

“Oh, right!” Rose went to the backroom but promptly appeared with 25 shimmering gold coins. “For the slaying of slimes near Drupeton. I can’t believe you both killed 40 slimes! That’s quite the merit, maybe they’ll start calling you Slime Slayer instead,” she giggled.

Durge and Ryder wryly laughed and split the gold with one another.

Rose also placed an extra gold coin on the counter, “This is for retrieving that tag, even if they tried to slay you, it was the honorable thing to do.”

Ryder bowed and said his goodbyes. Rose wasn’t able to yell at Durge in time when he exited the Hall with his tankard again. “One of these days I’ll have to make a sign,” she huffed.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Durge was sitting next to Ryder in the steaming pools of the Soaked Sponge, still sipping his brew. “And we didn’t even rank up, what a load of shit. Do they even rank up people? I can see why that one guy was so pissed that he never got to Gold.”

“Alleviate your woes, won’t you? This was only our second quest. There’ll be more to come,” Ryder said with his eyes closed.

Pitters and patters resonated from the skylights above. The sky was dark, even though it just turned to evening.

“We eating after this?” Durge asked.

“Of course. But we should go to Bellows. You have to get measured for that armor and sell those weapons.”

Durge groaned, “Why can’t we do that tomorrow?”

“We’re busy tomorrow. I want to rise early and acquire a quest, We don’t know if it’s time sensitive.”

Durge groaned one more time before exiting the pool, splashing Ryder in the process.

They both chewed on a small steaming meat pie as they traveled to the dwarf’s armory. The flaky gold crust fell at their feet as they ran through the pouring rain.

“Wait, we need to look presentable,” Ryder said, remembering Irid’s words.

Durge wiped the stains from his shield and tried polishing his mace with the rainwater.

A groggy Irid peeked through his curtains and saw the two outside his store, “Damn kids.”

“And we forgot Kincaid’s helmet at Skel’s,” Durge mentioned.

Ryder clicked his tongue, “Hopefully he won’t need it right now.

The dwarf’s expression seemed annoyed and disapproving as they walked in soaking wet.

“I see you have gained a new weapon and given your old one to your companion,” the dwarf said in a mellow tone.

“We’ve had a run-in with a group of adventurers that weren’t too peaceful,” Durge said.

“Hm. What can I do for you?”

“He needs to get measured for that armor but we’d like to sell these weapons first. Oh, and I need to restock my arrows,” Ryder pulled out the crude falchion and hatchet.

“And you call these ‘weapons,’ I feel sickly just looking at them! I’ll give you 4 silver just so I can toss them in the fire. How many arrows you need?”

“6, please.”

“How polite. It’ll be 20 silver altogether.”

Durge squinted but surprised himself when he understood the math, “The arrows must be 4 silver a piece! And he subtracted the silver from the weapons we’re selling!”

Ryder shook his head, “Forever an oaf.”

“Alright, kid. You ready to get measured? It’ll take a moment but I’ll be quick.”

“Rye, take my gold and go restore our supplies. I’ll handle getting the food later though, just go get another health potion by selling that mage’s orb or something.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hope Irid leaves room for your gut in that armor,” Ryder said, exiting Bellows and heading toward Rhena’s Remedies.

Wiping the rain off his face, he entered the alchemy shop. The arcane bell rang but Rhena was already at the counter, eating a bowl of soup.

Ryder laughed to himself, “Are you eating eyeballs or children?”

Rhena rolled her eyes, “I might have to throw you in the cauldron if you start calling me a witch.”

“Do you have any use for this?” Ryder asked, holding out the hydromancer’s glass ball.

“More than you do. It’s a common amplifier amongst wizards. I’ll buy it off you for five shines.”

“Deal.”

Ryder spent the rest of his time in the store chatting with Rhena and perusing her curious wares. “Did you know I used that tiny health potion on someone?” Ryder said, shaking around the fairy orb again.

“Oh yeah? I’m assuming the person instantly got better?”

“Well he’s still missing a hand but he didn’t look to be in agony anymore. They started calling me the ‘Potion-Giver’ now.”

“Oh really? Do they call you the ‘Potion-Buyer’ too? Because I have plenty in stock.”

Ryder chuckled, “I would like another health potion actually. We were given these ones but they seem to be of lesser quality,” Ryder took out the watery red vial from his satchel and handed it to her.

She investigated the potion and shook it, “Damn Guild Hall. Always diluting their concoctions.” She handed it back. “I’ll give you two for 20 gold.”

“Sounds remarkable,” Ryder said, digging through his coin pouch.

As Rhena was getting the potions from the back shelves, she said “You know health potions only have three ingredients? Red wheat, slime residue, and tomato juice are all you need. The wheat does most of the work and could heal you if you grounded it and packed it into a wound, but it wouldn’t do much. The residue combines with the wheat to actually heal the internal flesh, and the tomato is just so you can trick your stomach into ingesting the damn thing.”

“I’ll be sure to take note of that next time I’m in the wild.”

“And before you drink any of mine, I have to warn you. Don’t get too scared of the after-effects. You might see red coming out of your you-know-what the next time you use the chamber pot, but don’t worry, it’s just the potion leaving your body.”

Ryder laughed, “Do all your potions do that?”

“Just be wary of your aim if you ever drink one that turns you invisible,” she chuckled and handed the two corked red vials.

Ryder left with a smile but it quickly turned sour when he had to go out in the rain again. Most of the shops were closed but he peered into a rustic and decrepit store that still had a lantern lit by the entrance.

He knocked on the door and said his greetings before entering. He couldn’t see the shopkeep or even the ground; a random assortment of goods reached the ceiling, shelves were cluttered, and everything had a grand layer of thick dust.

An elderly man was faintly heard in the back corner of the room, “Welcome. Welcome,” he said in a muttered voice.

Ryder glanced at the junk; from weapons to books, to toys and antique furniture, the man housed an array of miscellaneous items.

“And we do accept bartering if you don’t have enough coinage,” the elder said in a toothless voice.

Yeah, I can tell, Ryder thought. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He peered over a wooden stick, it had runes and glyphs etched onto it. He imagined a wise wizard with a large-brimmed hat casting fireballs and controlling the weather with it.

“You have anything else of the arcane?” Ryder asked.

The old man thought for a long while before his finger quivered when he pointed to a shelf in the far back. “I think there’s something over there. An enchanted something or other,” he mumbled.

Ryder navigated to the old shelf, trying to not step on dolls and knock over porcelain vases. He was confused about where exactly to look, so he took a gander at the entire shelf. There were scrolls, figures of the Divine Family, muddy leather shoes, tools, books, and a jar of ink.

Examining the small ink bottle, the dense contents swirled and shined a prism of colors. Ryder unscrewed the lid, the ink formed the shape of a strange rune when he looked inside. He grabbed a nearby quill and lightly drew on a random scroll and waited, but nothing strange happened.

I know you have to do something. Maybe it’s for writing spells? Enchanting items? I better just ask before I accidentally disintegrate this guy’s shop. “What does this ink do?” he asked.

The old man’s furrowed brow rose, revealing his ocean-blue eyes, “Ahhhh, give it here my son.” When he received the jar he promptly unscrewed the lid and flipped it upside down. None of the ink leaked out. He took a dense paintbrush inside it and painted the edge of his table. A black smear was left on the table but the inside of the jar stayed the same volume.

“It’s everlasting!” he said with a wide toothless grin.

Ryder was amazed at the object and grabbed a quill and a random empty journal to go along with it.

“How much?” he asked.

The elder scratched his fuzzy chin and declared that it would cost four silver.

Ryder promptly placed an entire gold coin on his table and ran out of the store, excited to tell Durge of his findings.

Irid wrote on the scroll for the final time, “Alright, I got you marked. Just don’t grow any taller in the coming weeks.”

Durge chuckled, “I can’t promise a thing. How long do you think it’ll take to craft?”

“I’m a busy fellow, Mr. Durge. This war is brewing and I fear I’ll be ‘hired’ to forge for some army. It’ll take many moons until I’m done. And you’ll have to provide payments as well. What business would I have if I bent my steel for free?”

Durge bit his tongue, “How much?”

The dwarf looked over the scroll again, “You got the helmet. But the main parts you still require for a full suit are the gorget, spaulders, pauldrons, vambraces, gauntlets, greaves, the breastplate of course, and sabatons if you think people are going to attack your feet.”

“That’s a lot left.”

“Aye, and all specially crafted to fit the terror of man, a design to strike fear, honor Captain Kincaid, … and be a walking signpost for my handiwork,” Irid grinned. “In total it’ll be about 2,000 gold for the cost of the materials and my time”

Durge whistled his surprise, “Damn…”

“And that’s at a bargain too. Smiths these days don’t embellish their craft with love like I do. All they do is sit around, swing thems’ hammer, watch thems’ apprentice, and smoke stems.”

“Uh-huh. Well, obviously my purse isn’t weighing me down that much.”

“None ever do, my boy. We’ll piecemeal it together. Just give me gold after killing whatever it is that you kill and I’ll update my progress.”

Durge thought for a moment, “How will I know if you’re working on it?”

“You want a damn contract too! You’ll see me working on the damn thing you tourist! Now get out of here and let me smoke my evening stems in peace!”

Durge hurried himself out the door, accidentally slamming it outward into Ryder.

“Ryder, you fool!”

“Says you, oaf!” Ryder said, rubbing his forehead.