The old but fragrant wooden counter seemed to be the guild’s reception desk. The man had asked me if I had a request, so I guessed this was where people came with all kinds of tasks for the adventurers to do. There were bundles of parchment all piled up, a dull and scruffy quill pen, and an inkpot too.
The man glowered down at me. He was built like a bear, with chestnut hair and a beard streaked with gray. When I looked more closely at his face, I noticed a huge scar on one cheek. He was just looking back at me, but it almost felt like he was squeezing my throat with his hand.
“Can you write your name?” he asked.
Judging from his expression, he still didn’t trust me. And I was too scared to process what he’d said to me at first, but his question eventually sank into my brain. I quickly straightened myself up and tried to answer. My name. Write. Okay.
“Y-Yes. I can.”
“Right. Then write it here.”
The man was definitely not a talker. He took a sheet of parchment from a shelf behind him and put it on the counter in front of me without saying anything else. I tried to sit down, which was a little tricky because the stool was too tall for me. My feet couldn’t even reach the floor, but I wiggled my butt into a comfortable position and then looked down at the parchment. There were blank spaces for my name and some other details too.
“Um... I don’t have a family name, so what should I put?”
“Leave it blank.”
Well, at least he answered the question. He even pushed the quill and inkpot closer to me so they were easier to reach. I still thought he was scary, but he didn’t seem like a mean person. I dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and started to write my name. The quill’s tip was really worn, so the first letter came out a little funny. Even the priest would have replaced a quill this old.
“Should I fill in the rest too?”
“Yup,” came the flat reply.
Wait a minute. Is this a sign-up form for the guild? If it is, does that mean they’re not going to make me leave?
I worked my way down the form. Race. Place of birth. Gender. The quill ran dry and I dipped it into the pot again, being careful about the amount of ink I added because of the worn tip. That should be good. I adjusted my grip on the quill, moved my hand down to the next item on the form...and stopped.
Age. I remembered what Uncle Lehmar had said on our way into town.
“Most guilds don’t take applications from anyone younger than twelve. I don’t think the adventurer’s guild is any different.”
He was an awful person. He’d lied to me and taken me to a slaver, but I felt like he hadn’t been lying about this. I didn’t like the idea of trusting him about anything. If what he’d said was true, though, the guild would tell me I was too young to become an adventurer and kick me out. And then what would I do? I had no idea, and that really scared me.
I shut my eyes and apologized to the gods, hoping they’d forgive what I was about to do. It was probably the sincerest prayer I’d ever made. And then, I put the quill’s tip on the parchment and wrote the number twelve.
I finished filling out the form and handed it back to the menacing man on the other side of the desk. He scowled as he scanned over what I’d written. Honestly, I was petrified. What if he figured out that I’d lied? It reminded me of the time when I had to admit I broke someone’s farm tools while playing with them, except right now it felt twice as hard to breathe. It took everything I had to stay in my seat and not run for the door.
“Nice handwritin’.”
“Oh, um... Thank you.”
I wasn’t expecting that gruff mumble to be a compliment. Maybe he was talking to himself, not to me. Well, I’d gotten lots of writing practice copying those scriptures for the priest. He’d always reminded me to write clearly and carefully.
“All right,” the man said. “You’ll be registered as a Rank F adventurer.”
“Huh?” I stared at him for a few moments. Yes, I was the one who’d asked to become an adventurer. But I didn’t understand. I mean, it couldn’t be this easy.
“Th-That’s it...?” I asked. “There’s nothing else?”
“Nope. If you can read, go look at the requests on the wall and pick one.” With that, he seemed to lose all interest in me and went back to reading the sheet of parchment he’d been looking at when I came in.
Seriously...? That’s all there is to it? I’m an adventurer now, just like that?
While I was still just sitting there, dazed by how simple it had been, the man stopped reading again and lifted his scarred face. It seemed like he’d changed his mind.
“Hold on. Guess I better go over a few points of caution with you,” he grumbled. He locked his eyes on mine, narrowing them as if to threaten me, and I sat up a little straighter.
“There used to be a fee for registerin’ at the guild.”
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t have a single coin on me.
“But it’s free now. Why d’you think that is?”
“Why...? Um...” I didn’t really know, but I sure was thankful. I tried thinking of an answer, but it seemed like my time ran out because the man answered for me.
“It’s ’cause we had an endless parade of thievin’ dogs stealin’ to pay for their registration.”
Stealing? There were thieves here too?
“Gives a guild a bad name when you’ve got those types hangin’ around. We gave ’em a good drubbin’ and threw ’em out whenever we caught ’em, but you can’t go investigatin’ every newbie who puts their name down.”
He heaved a heavy sigh and tutted. Apparently just thinking about the thieves was enough to put him in a bad mood, and I found myself hoping he’d never get mad at me.
“So we made it free. And now it ain’t thieves we have to deal with, it’s time wasters. I dunno if they’re puttin’ each other up to it or just bored or what. They sign up and then you never hear from ’em again. What a pain in the ass... But there’s a worse type out there—the ones who take on requests and never get the work done.”
It sounded like running an adventurer’s guild was a tough job. I couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the bearish man as his face creased into a frown.
“Well, those types get tied up and thrown to the monsters. Bad for business to leave ’em be.”