The adventurers here all held weapons, but that was irrelevant. Visualizing myself going up against these guys, all the size of pro wrestlers, brought only my demise to mind. For that reason, I sealed myself off, restricted myself to speaking with the gorgeous receptionist, and nothing more. Still, I believed in my heart that, one day, we would get to know each other better.
“It is,” she answered with a smile. “Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild. Please fill in your name, race, and age here.”
She handed me some parchment, almost exactly like the one at the Healer’s Guild, except without a section for birthplace for some reason. Normally, I’d ask a question to segue into light conversation and calm my nerves, but I couldn’t even manage something that trivial at the moment.
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind placing a drop of your blood or infusing some of your magic into this card...”
Paying extra attention to the details, I nonchalantly carried out the registration process. I accepted the card, poured a bit of my magic into it, then returned it.
“Thank you...Mister Luciel? I see you have the Martial Arts skill, so no problems there.”
Would there have been problems otherwise? Despite the many questions in my mind, I held back for now. Finally, I received my guild card and officially became an adventurer.
The bunny-eared receptionist then proceeded to zip through the rules and regulations of the guild. Though I nodded and responded, none of what she said really penetrated. As to why... Well, that would be the fierce gazes I felt stabbing into my back. They weren’t so petrifying that I couldn’t move, but I certainly felt threatened. Without a doubt, they demanded to know what the hell I was doing acting buddy-buddy with their so-and-so, or so my gut told me. Her very important explanation thus went in one ear and straight out the other.
What did stay in my head was that you couldn’t register as an adventurer without an attack skill, and also the most basic details on how to accept requests. Thankfully, she repeated the vital points, such as how failing a request would incur a fine.
Essentially, adventurers earned income through the completion of requests and the guild took ten percent of that for operational purposes. Even though I’d never even taken a request, I felt a chill go up my spine when she warned me about the penalties, and decided not to accept them lightly on the chance that a failure might mean the end of my days.
Obviously, I started out at the lowest rank, H. Higher ranks meant cheaper weapons and lodging, as well as being given higher priority for the more desirable requests. However, I deemed all that to be irrelevant to me, personally, as I had no intention of aiming to be the “strongest adventurer” or anything. Still, I was grateful that taking the Martial Arts skill had served some purpose.
After the rabbit-eared receptionist concluded her explanation, I internalized the important points in my head and got to the real reason I had come here.
“Thank you for explaining everything so clearly. Now, I had a question—can adventurers themselves make requests too?”
Her ears bobbed as she tilted her head. “Yes, they certainly can.”
She was indeed exceedingly adorable, but I had no room in my thoughts to spare any attention to that. For the sake of my goal and my livelihood, I ignored the tears my heart was weeping and commenced business negotiations with Miss Bunny Ears.
“Earlier, you said there was a training area underground that adventurers can use for free, right?”
“Yes, it’s open to all adventurers,” she answered.
“Great. In that case, I have a request. I was wondering if it might be possible to introduce me to someone who can train me in my Martial Arts skill.”
“I think that can be arranged, but personal training comes with a fee based on the time required for each session. Is that okay with you?” She looked concerned, which really wasn’t helping my case in the event of any misunderstandings. No, forget that, the important thing here was my request.
Just how expensive would it be? Of course, this wasn’t volunteer work I was asking for, so a fee made sense. Unfortunately, not even good old Monster Luck could hook me up with freebies all the time. Even so, if this training could increase my chances of survival, I had to do it. Without much money to my name, however, hard negotiation was my only option. Time to get serious.
First, the cost. “How much would a decent, polite instructor charge me?” I could very well end up with some hooligan who would beat me for my mistakes.
“Hmm, well, that depends on the agreement, but I would say about one silver per hour, give or take.”
That was quite the sum given my current situation. As expected, I’d really have to sell my case. I took a deep breath and activated Negotiation Mode.
“If I might make an offer, do you ever receive requests for healing here at the guild base?”
“No...I wouldn’t say we do,” she replied, slightly dumbfounded.
What this meant was that there was no precedent. Offering something one wouldn’t normally do or really notice was surprisingly crucial to negotiation. You could always go for safer and more orthodox methods, but at the risk of being easily turned down. In this instance, I judged there to be the possibility of a mutually beneficial relationship hidden away here, and prayed that she’d hear me out and take it up to someone with the power to accept. She seemed to be on the fence, so I offered an example.
“What if I, for instance, offered my healing to injured adventurers while I underwent training? Would that suffice as payment? Assuming my instructor is a staff member, I believe this would benefit both parties. What do you think?”
Now she had to take this to a higher-up, for sure. If I was declined, I’d just have to come up with something else.
“This...isn’t something I can decide myself. Could you wait here for a moment?”
“Yes, of course. Please take your time.”
I had done what I could for the moment. Now it was Monsieur Luck’s turn. To him, I offered my prayers.
The moment Miss Bunny Ears left, my Negotiation Mode wore off and the invisible daggers in my back returned. Maybe because I’d gotten full of myself and piled more work onto her? Be that as it may, this was my top priority and I had to do what I had to do. I still prayed for my safety, of course, justified or not.
By some miracle, or perhaps the fact that I did not follow her nor move so much as an inch from the counter, the hostile gazes were all I ended up having to contend with, as much as I would’ve liked for that stabbing pressure in my back to ease off. Was I being hazed? Was my waiting here for minutes on end part of some cruel rookie initiation?
Finally, the receptionist returned and I let out a sigh of relief. Or rather, I tried to, but ended up swallowing it right back down.
The rugged man accompanying her bore a scar on his face and just about drowned the room in his overwhelming presence. He was taller than me, not extremely buff, yet undoubtedly someone to be reckoned with. How else could he give off such a powerful vibe?