It was real. The wall beside him was melted. That meant—he had just spoken to a dragon. A real dragon. The same ones from the stories. Creatures that could level kingdoms and decide the fate of nations. Beings of wisdom enough to match treants, and wrath enough to match krakens.
“A dragon,” Wizz repeated to himself. For a moment, he shook with the enormity of it. “It was real.”
It took the better part of an hour to just… move. He was in disbelief yet the proof—it was only a few meters away. A melted wall. Cracked stone to indicate what might’ve passed as some kind of spell impact—or footprint. Every piece of the encounter was etched into his mind. All the evidence, right in front of him. It had happened.
And yet he fought against the part of him that refused it—he stared up at the moving clouds, disturbed by something large having passed through them. The magnificence of the dragon was burned into memory.
“Wait, a Skill Orb?” Wizz remembered suddenly. “What is that?” He muttered. The name of the Article seemed similar to a Skill Book but he hadn’t heard of it before.
Skill Books were exceedingly rare treasures so that made him all the more curious. They granted someone the corresponding Skill regardless of whether any requirement was met, as it would normally need be. That was a powerful detail, especially as in the case with advanced magic or exceptional martial ability. Certainly for people with an interest in something they have no natural talent in.
Wizz had heard they were often sold in the Capital.
“But for a dragon to call it noteworthy,” Wizz muttered. “I wonder what it is. Maybe it has similarities.” He said, heart dancing with excitement.
It would be a treasure worth pursuing regardless of what Almouth said.
And then he got up and started moving. He was on request still, after all. Scalehunting. Now there was just an auxiliary objective—keeping an eye out for any underground passages. He was sure the guild had some maps on record. He stuffed his sleeping bag, miraculously found his alarm ward was intact and then retrieved the rest of his things.
That was one thing about Wizz. He was good at moving. Things didn’t tend to weigh him down for too long, and if they did, he carried the weight of them. As he was doing now, incidentally. He was still in shock and slight disbelief, but he acted on the benefit of the doubt.
It had happened so the question was how to continue.
Any other man would be thankful for their own survival. They’d call the meeting with the dragon a sign for some change in their life. They’d seek answers, or delve into history. That wasn’t the man Wizz was raised.
Wizz would do some of that, sure. But this wasn’t a catalyst in his life. That had happened years ago. This was just another step. A big step, granted, but he’d been preparing himself for this opportunity, a chance for the first worthy Skill to be slotted. That was the only reason the encounter had only staggered him, rather than knock him off his feet and send him flying over the edge of the world. As it would any other.
There was a treasure here in the Scale Fields. That alone steadied him. Years of waiting, of watching other progress further and faster, may finally come to an end.
Still, he stared at the clouds, slowly reforming. “Dragons are real.” He whispered. For long moments, he just… stood there, knowing.
Eventually, he started moving again.
He climbed from the outcropping, taking the ramping path outward, and noted his current position. He wasn’t too far from the edge of the forest now that he had some light to see. He decided to check on the bodies of the previous battle. It would take some hiking.
It was safer to traverse the crags in the daylight. There was less chance for an accidental fall and Wizz could also watch his footing easier. It was hard to navigate with any foresight otherwise. He could also identify areas that might be dangerous, simply by recognizing terrain that might be favorable for the various lurking predators.
He stuck to the high ground, both bow and sword ready for any danger.
The scale serpent bodies were abandoned. That was misleading, Wizz knew. Bait. Oftentimes looks could be deceiving. The local creatures were a cunning sort. He observed for half an hour, scouting the surrounding area, before finally confirming it was safe to harvest the things.
Approaching, he took out his harvesting knife, made with a mythril edge. The metal itself had no inherent properties that made it good for harvesting. Mythril was exceptional at retaining magic and enchantments however, and in this particular case, sharpness. The knife was one of his most valuable items. And his only Item.
Item: [Mythril Harvesting Knife] (Uncommon)
A strong-handled blade of stainless steel. The oaken handle affords any grip extra leverage and the blade itself is angled ideally for harvesting work. The edge of the blade is lined with sharpness enchanted mythril, able to pierce and cut through the toughest of materials.
+10% increase to harvested resources
Wizz sliced the belly of the first serpent open. He removed the heart, lungs, and venom glands. Then he carefully extracted the eyes, fangs, and tongue. The particular request he’d accepted had a need for every part of the serpent. He’d been directed to extract what he could without damage. He’d be paid well for intact parts and not at all for damaged ones.
Wizz repeated the process twice more. There were only three bodies. Two with arrows sunk in their heads and one with a stab wound through the brain. All of Wizz’s doing. After each process, he checked his surroundings, making sure to scout whether the blood and gore attracted any dangerous scavengers.
He hoped the other adventurers had ended up escaping.
He stored the creature parts in special sacks. Tying them up, he fastened them to the back of his pack. They were made with a material that only somewhat nullified the odor. They added considerably to his weight but he still had the rest of the day for hunting. It would tire him, but Wizz had pushed himself to greater strain in the past. He was well trained despite the lack of Skill.
It took another hour of carefully hunting for him to come to a fairly certain conclusion.
“Everything went into hiding.” He said to himself.
On the surface, it wouldn’t be uncommon to find predators lurking in plain view. There were enough vantage points that it was a common sight. Wizz had seen nothing. It meant that either Sir Luck was not behind him today, or every single predator had gone underground.
From the pillar of flame only hours before, he guessed the second.
“Well, at least I got a good harvest.” He said to himself.
So rather than looking for beasts to slay, Wizz took a breath and began carefully searching for the bodies. Not all the adventurers had escaped, after all. That group had left behind people from what Wizz had caught of their conversation. In the dark, without aid, in a disadvantaged position, and caught by surprise, well, it didn’t look good. He spent a while searching but in the end there were no signs.
That was both reassuring and not.
“Picked clean or they managed to escape unharmed. If they survived until this morning, they could be well on their way back to the guild.” He said to himself. “All the dangerous creatures went into hiding so there’s a chance.” He remarked with some hope.
With that, he began the journey back. He’d be returning earlier than expected, so he could afford to take the easier path around Lull Forest. He shrugged his pack and got a move on. No use tempting fate.
The entire time he kept an eye out for any other signs of the missing adventurers. His eyes also betrayed a newfound interest in sighting different tunnels or passages into the Scale Fields underground. In the end, he exited the Scale Fields unbothered and found a dirt path under his feet within two hours.
The rest of the trek took the better part of the day. By the time he reached the gates of Newhold the sun was already setting. Wizz hadn’t even noticed, his mind had since wandered to his interaction earlier in the day. He had the entire journey to process it.
“Oi! Winslew!” Someone called from the gates. A man stood beside the gates. Kerrik. “How goes adventuring, lad?” He asked as Wizz neared.
As if he could explain to the guard exactly what had transpired.
“Eventful.” Wizz smiled, the boisterous guard was an adventuring staple as far as Wizz was concerned. Kerrik was always at the gate at the best times to leave and return. Early morning and setting sun. As a result, Wizz had come to know him. “I helped some adventurers there on the Scale Fields. Two might have died so I need to report to the guild. They’re missing at the very least, I spotted no remains.”
Kerrik blinked. “Scale Fields. You were near there then! You must have seen it! There was an enormous pillar of fire. Early morning. You catch sight of that? I could see the thing from here.”
That was news to Wizz. Not the pillar itself, obviously. “It was visible from all the way here?” Wizz whistled. The sheer intensity of the flame was unimaginable.
“Bright as a beacon.” Kerrik nodded. “So you did see it.”
“Scared off about every living thing in the area. Only reason I’m holding out hope for the two missing.” Wizz responded. “Not a single serpent scavenging the bodies of what I helped those adventurers with.” He gestured to the sacks hanging off his pack. Kerrik would recognize them.
“Huh, wonder what it was then.” He said, scratching his beard. “You reckon there was an archmagus practicing there? That’s the rumor anyway.” He chuckled. “Ah, and those adventurers, they should be at the guild. Passed through earlier today, looked right injured, death in their eyes. Matches what you said.” Kerrik informed. “Though I won’t keep you anymore, Winslew. Off you go, they might be needing news. Even bad.”
“Thanks, Kerrik.” Wizz nodded.
Wizz headed straight to the Adventurer’s Guild.
In Newhold, the Adventurer’s Guild’s main building was a large structure. A spacious interior with multiple wings holding different services. The main hall, where the adventurers mingled and requests were posted, held most of the traffic.
There were other wings that held notable foot traffic as well. Returning adventurers often had the need to visit the appraiser to get newfound treasure or loot examined, for example. That area was usually busy all times of day.
Wizz would normally head there but his goods were already spoken for. He stepped through the main hall and caught sight of the bustling space. Many adventurers were on break or returning, the wooden long tables were filled with men, women, and comrades.
He turned right and visited the drop-off. Here, the guild’s request liaison team handled the reporting, recording, exchanging, and processing of goods between adventurer and client. If Wizz’s scale serpent parts were the result of his own hunting, he would visit the appraiser instead, since these were already spoken he’d take care of it here.
“Hey, Jasu!” Wizz called as he came to one of the open tables.
Without looking to see if he was heard, he began carefully unloading his gains. Various organs and serpent parts littered the table, gory yet organized. As perfect a condition as Wizz could get. Though the smell and blood hid the fact.
The voice spoke unprompted from behind. “Request for Scale Serpent Parts, Scale Fields.” Jasu stood behind him, she was reading a piece of parchment. “Bjerg notes you’d be back tomorrow. A bit early, aren’t you?”
“Ran into some trouble.” Wizz scratched his head. “I need to visit the main hall after, speak with a party that was there too. Have you heard of anything?”
Jasu was quick and efficient, perusing the product. Her hands were prim but Wizz had seen the same woman rummaging through bull elk gore. He couldn’t remember a time Jasu had so much as wrinkled her nose. He watched her plunge into the parts wordlessly and without a smidge of hesitation or pause.
“They’ve been waiting for whoever helped them. They’ve got one of your arrows. Not many have the need to invest in steel-tipped arrows, nor the foresight. I recognized your work immediately, though I figured you would handle it once you arrived.”
Wizz nodded. The [Archery] Skill more often than not afforded the use of Actives and Passives that aided penetrative power. Perhaps tougher quarries would need an upgrade to equipment in addition to that aid, but not for the Scale Fields, certainly not for the most commonly valuable creatures there. For Wizz, better equipment was a necessity.
“Twelve fangs, three hearts, six lungs, six eyes, eight glands, three tongues. A full two sacks of serpent scales. Three young stonescale adults.” She listed. “Another completed request, Mr. Winslew. I’ll have it marked. You can pick up your pay at the front desk, Bjerg will help you.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Thanks, Jasu.”
“See to that party, Mr. Winslew,” Jasu responded.
Wizz found his way back to the main hall. Aside from the Scale Fields, there were many other locations worthy of attracting adventurers. The guild welcomed back returning adventurers with open arms and the promise of food, drink, company, and rest, granted they had the coin.
“A giant pillar of fire! We caught sight of it from the forest! I’ve never seen any work of magic like it before.” Someone was saying. “I swear to you I could feel the heat miles away. It was blinding!”
Wizz recognized the man immediately as one of the members of the group he’d run into. He was the mage. The other two members were using bows if Wizz recalled, dressed similarly in equipment as he was. That would be them sitting nearby, nursing drinks both.
Wizz sat down across the latter two since the former was surrounded by a small crowd. “I hear you have one of my arrows?” He opened.
The man and woman looked up. Both bore a striking resemblance with the other. Brown eyes, regret, sorrow. They glanced at him in confusion. It only took a moment for recognition to dawn.
The man jerked. “You—this is yours then?” He said instead, placing one of Wizz’s steel-tipped arrows on the table. It was bloodied, one of Wizz’s glancing shots then. The man must’ve picked it up for extra ammo as archers often did.
In response, Wizz plucked an arrow from his pack. Identical. “Sorry I couldn’t help more. I caught sight of the battle from a good distance away.” Wizz explained.
“You helped more than enough, friend. We’d be dead right now if you hadn’t.” The man said gratefully, he had the tired look of someone who’d been close to death. “We were caught off-guard. We—we lost two of our party. Our frontline.” He said, shoulders slumped.
“I heard the end of that, back then. I tried looking for remains this morning.” Wizz said respectfully. “There wasn’t anything I could find. But that could mean anything.” He added.
“That’s—we wanted to do the same in the morning, but that pillar. Did you see it? The fire?” The woman asked. “We… decided it was best to leave.” She said quietly.
Wizz nodded, not finding any need or desire to explain exactly what that fire was. “I did. It could’ve been a Creature for all we know. It was the smart thing to do; not risking any more lives.”
Yeven nodded. “Thank you, either way. We’ll hold out some hope. But whatever released that pillar of flame—we can’t risk going to check ourselves.”
“Yeven, Maz, who’s this?” Someone approached.
“He’s… I’m sorry, friend, I never got your name. I’m Yeven, this is my sister Maz, and that there is Charles.” Yeven introduced lightly. “Charles, this is the adventurer you pointed out.”
“Zakary Winslew.” Wizz dipped his head. “Pleasure to meet you all.”
Charles blinked. “Our cover fire?” The man strode over in an instant. Wizz stood—suddenly, the mage was clasping Wizz’s arm with more strength than Wizz necessarily expected from a practitioner. “You have no idea how thankful I am. You saved our asses out there, friend. Anything I can help you with, you let me know.”
Wizz blinked. “Uh, sure.” He said, the mage releasing him. Wizz sat back down from his forced half-stand.
“Hold on. Zakary Winslew?” Maz spoke, something on the tip of her tongue. “That name’s familiar.”
“You’re Wizz, aren’t you? I mean, that’s what they shorten it to, right?” Yeven said after a moment in surprise. “Wizz the Skilless?”
Wizz braced himself. It was hard to say how people reacted exactly. The range was too large. It could be a shake of the head, a commendation for lofty goals, anger, disappointment, indifference, anything really. Wizz suspected it was that way for anything out of the norm.
He always expected the worst though.
“The very same.” He confirmed. “If you’ve got a problem with me then I’m more than happy to avoid—”
“You did all that shooting with no Skills?” Yeven exclaimed. Then he looked down at the table. “That’s why you use the steel-tipped arrows. No [Piercing Shot].” He said as understanding dawned on him.
“And no [Steady Hands] or equivalent Passive,” Maz said, surprised. ”That’s some impressive aim.”
After a beat, “Thank you.” Wizz responded, slightly taken by surprise. “It takes practice. Skills don’t make an adventurer, after all.” He added.
“Just a fairly crucial part of them.” Charles retorted. “No offense there, friend. You’d be even more dangerous compounded with the [Archery] Skill, for example.”
“I’m aware of that.” Wizz said easily. “It’s my choice, in the end.”
“So it is, so it is. I’m sure you’re a little wary of us, what with your reputation, or rather what others make of it, but no worries. We’ve no problems with you. You saved our lives after all. Say though, you saw that pillar too, right? Any ideas?” Charles said, recounting the exact story he’d been telling early.
It quickly became clear why the mage didn’t seem the least bit bothered by his missing party members. Charles apparently had an unshakable faith in the two comrades. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. Charles and the two others were the senior members of the group it seemed, Yeven and Maz were the newer additions. He didn’t doubt for a moment that they were coming back.
It was why he was so focused on the burning pillar of flame, rather than his missing teammates.
By now, the news had spread by word of mouth, largely due to Charles. Meaning every adventurer in the main hall was talking about it. The running theory was that a practicing archmagus had visited the Scale Fields to test some high-tier spell. He’d heard that one from Kerrik. Beyond that there was speculation a Creature had emerged, an Article that represented a being recognized by the World Tablet. There were a lot of wild improbable guesses too. And yes, there was even talk of a dragon. But people tended to default to that explanation with no real seriousness.
There were a handful of arguments whether a dragon could be an Article. The legends had made them out to be closer to sentients than beasts and sentients were already recognized by the World Tablet in their own way.
Of course, Wizz kept quiet. He didn’t want to be eaten.
Excusing himself, he neared the front desk. The huge board of requests greeted him off to the side but he swiveled to meet Bjerg. The man was turned around, organizing the back wall where various request papers, ledgers, and rewards were held.
“Early, eh? Welcome back.” Bjerg spoke before even turning around. He hefted a small sack of silver coins onto the counter. “That’s full compensation for three young adult stonescales. One of the lungs was torn, two fangs were chipped, but the alchemist was just glad all the venom glands were intact. Those are the most valuable parts anyway.”
As always, Bjerg had an uncanny sense of his station, Wizz had always presumed the man had some kind of Passive to help him with that.
“So I earned just about a fraction less.” Wizz guessed. He grabbed the pouch of coins and counted. Six gold was a windfall considering the effort he put in. He nodded in satisfaction.
“Just about.” Bjerg nodded. Then he glanced at one of his ledgers, presumably where he kept track of adventurers and their guild work. “You’ll hit Common Rank at this rate, Wizz. I’ll recommend you myself once you meet the requirements.”
Wizz instinctively glanced at the request board, sorting them mentally by those which were restricted from him. He wondered if he could even pull off the Common requests. Every rank was an order of magnitude more dangerous, more rewarding.
Adventurer ranks were based exactly upon the Rarities given by the World Tablet. Common, Uncommon, Scarce, Rare, Epic, Mythic, Legendary. With the omission of the Unique and Scaling Rarities. Adventurers started with no rank at all, to mimic that which the World Tablet didn’t even bother to recognize. Rank was directly related to capability and strength as Rarity was to, well, rarity.
Hitting Common Rank in the Adventurer’s Guild was an immediate bottleneck most adventurers wouldn’t pass. The requirements were different for every rank. For Common Rank, it was proving you could stick to the work, survive, and succeed. More often than not, someone would fail at one of them.
“I’d appreciate it, Bjerg.” Wizz smiled genuinely. “How’re the kids?”
“Still fighting imaginary monsters. I hope to keep it that way.” He shook his head good-naturedly. “I won’t have them try their hand at adventuring until they’re of age, and even then only when I deem them fit for it.“
Wizz often forgot the man was a former Scarce Rank. “You’d let them?” Wizz asked, surprised. It was a profession that incurred deaths daily.
“My days out adventuring sculpted me into the receptionist you see today.” Bjerg joked proudly. “Besides, they’ll end up better for it. If they can protect themselves, then I won’t have to worry about them.”
“It’s definitely a way of living.” Wizz nodded. “A shopkeeper’s apprentice or city guard wouldn’t get half the experience.”
“Though they’d be safer more than half the time.” Bjerg said, grunting softly as he moved large piles of documents around. There weren’t any other adventurers in line to handle business so Wizz was fine taking up Bjerg’s time, he knew the large man rarely minded. “Still, it teaches a man—and woman for that matter—how to live.”
“I can’t argue there.” Wizz responded, somehow feeling older than he was. His feet were sore from the walk and he was tired. Aches and pains of travel. Adventuring was one of the things his father had always advocated. “It does build character.” He conceded.
“Did you need anything else?” Bjerg asked, catching the hint of something in Wizz’s eyes.
Wizz squinted at him and raised a brow. “How do you do that?” He asked suspiciously.
“Years of experience, Wizz.” The man grinned. “So, what is it?”
Wizz snorted but then became all business. “Have you ever heard of a Skill Orb, Bjerg?”
Bjerg paused, eyeing Wizz for a moment before shrugging. “They’re similar to Skill Books and extremely rare. They're much more expensive when found. Where’d you end up hearing about those?” He asked curiously.
“You know how I am when it comes to Skills.” Wizz shrugged. “I happened to find mention of it in a historical journal. Nothing more than that though. What’s the difference between orb and book?”
Bjerg regarded Wizz. “You’re lucky I like you, kid. You know how the Articles are; kept secret and hoarded when they can be. And here’s the part where you’re lucky; your favorite receptionist happened to glance upon one long enough to trigger the World Tablet. Back when I was in the capital.” He began.
“They function nearly the same as a regular Skills Book, with the exception that upon use, they come with a targeted Boon to compliment the Skill. Rumor has it that Boon is pretty powerful.”
Wizz made to ask the next obvious question. A Boon wasn’t an Article Wizz was familiar with.
Bjerg interrupted him though, seeing the question on his face. “I reckon the reason the seller in the market didn’t mind showcasing the orb was because the description didn’t really tell you all that much. No information on what a Boon even is and from the sentiment of the crowd no one else had heard of the Article either.”
“How much did it sell for?”
“Three or four, I think.”
“Christ, that’s nearly double a regular Skill Book. I heard the regular books sold anywhere between a hundred to two hundred. ”
“Thousand.” Bjerg finished. “Three or four thousand, Wizz.”
Wizz stopped. “Excuse me?”
Bjerg nodded, seeing the look on his face. “I didn’t believe it either. Three or four thousand gold. It was around there, I’m sure of it.”
Bjerg walked over to the other end of the counter and accepted a request from a waiting adventurer, stalling the conversation.
While Wizz waited patiently, his heart was beating wildly. What kind of treasure had the dragon just pointed him to?
“What was it?” He asked, once the receptionist was free.
“Hmm?” Bjerg looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“The Skill.” Wizz said. “What Skill did the book—orb—have?”
“[Walking].” He responded.
Wizz’s mouth opened, then he closed it before speaking. “....[Walking]? That’s—that’s a simple Common Skill. Anyone could get that.” Wizz blinked. “Why would that be worth anything?”
Bjerg scratched his head. “Makes you think the buyer knew what he was about, don’t you think?” He said pointedly. “And there were a handful of rich prospective buyers.”
Wizz hummed. “The Boon must warrant that type of spending then.” He said thoughtfully. “Thanks Bjerg.”
Bjerg nodded. “Least I could do, friend. Let me know if you need me.” He waved.
Wizz paused and turned back around as a thought struck him. “Actually, is the guild selling any maps of the Scale Fields’ underground system?”
“Not to you I’m afraid.” Bjerg looked at him with seriousness. “That’s a death sentence at your rank, Wizz. Usually any requests necessitating an underground expedition are for Common or Uncommon ranked adventurers.”
“Wouldn’t dream of entering unprepared.” Wizz said meaningfully.
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s the problem—you’d still die.” Bjerg shook his head. “Unless you reach Common Rank, I can’t in good conscience sell you those maps.” He had the air of a receptionist employed by the Adventurer’s Guild, rather than Wizz’s friend Bjerg. The former was immovable. “And even then I’d be on the fence. You don’t have Skills Wizz, it’s a larger handicap than you make it seem, and you can only pretend it isn’t for so long.”
Wizz sighed, recognizing a losing battle. “Well, I tried.”
“Why the interest?” Bjerg asked offhandedly.
“No reason in particular.” Wizz lied. “How close am I to Common Rank?” He asked instead.
“Hmph, no reason my ass. Well, it won’t matter anyway, you’ll have the right to that information soon.” Then he addressed Wizz’s question, thinking for only a moment. “A handful of guild-issued requests and the approval of a higher-ranked guild member to get it officiated, if I recall correctly.” Bjerg recited from memory. Wizz couldn’t remember a time the man was wrong when dealing with guild rules and protocol.
“Good to know.” Wizz said thoughtfully. He exhaled, he wasn’t too far from it really. He supposed he could wait. “Alright, I’m off then. Thanks again Bjerg.” He told the receptionist. In response, Bjerg waved him away as another adventurer was approaching.
“Try not to do anything stupid, kid. Don’t think I don’t know the look in your eyes.” Bjerg said suddenly, as Wizz was leaving. “If you’re thinking of something stupid, run it by me first. It takes a lot of stupid ideas to make a wise adventurer so I might have advice for you.”
Wizz paused. “Will do, Bjerg.”
He took the warning seriously. Scarce Rank wasn’t some insignificant thing despite its positional ranking. Bjerg was a local legend everyone got comfortable with, a wolf hiding in the sheep’s wool of a receptionist uniform. Sometimes Wizz forgot that.
Then? Wizz went for dinner. He’d had a long day. And while he was well aware of the trap the guild set for tired adventurers, he was also intimately familiar with it. In fact, Wizz had fallen for it many, many times. A bowl of hot, thick stew sat in front of him. A mug of milk, and a side of bread and cheese from his own pack. Sometimes, nothing could beat Guild food after a request.
He was famished and he dug in with gusto.
That night his sleep was fitful. He dreamt of dragons and power.