Chapter 3: Dinner and a Show

Guilabaster Hall, or just the Guild. An organization akin to the government of the Gigant Forest outskirts. They run the business of adventuring, providing food and housing to adventurers as they come and go from the forest. Guilabaster is the largest of the Guilds, and deepest in the forest. An everything-in-one building, it’s as though an entire town compressed inside one massive building. And it’s been Wyn’s home for the past year.

The trip back had taken a good portion of the day. They were already quite the distance, but the fact that they were no longer being pursued, combined with the fact that they, or the man, rather, was carrying the carapaces of three massive beetles slowed them down a bit. The sun was close to setting by the time the large wood and stone building came into view.

“It’s a loose organization, not really strict on rules. While they don’t necessarily help you become an adventurer, if they don’t like you they can easily stop you from being one.”

“That’s a rather rude way to describe the Guild, Miss Wyn…” The receptionist at the guild responded.

“Just being factual.”

“So, Miss Wyn, what did you need? If it’s just selling, you already know where the Merchant’s Hall is.”

“I’ll head there later. But first, I’m giving this guy a tour of the Guild. Of course I’d start at the front desk. Anyway, this is Miss Faltith, one of the receptionists of the Guild.”

“Oh. Is he hoping to register as an adventurer? If so, I’d be more than happy to…”

“No need. I’ve got nothing better to do, anyway.”

“While carrying those?” Miss Faltith motioned towards the carapaces hovering around the man.

Wyn, after giving them a good stare, acquiesced. “Fine, fine. I’ll take care of that first.” She pointed at the man. “You, wait here. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

With a flick of her finger, the carapaces began to orbit around Wyn. The two were left staring, following Wyn’s retreating figure.

“She’s more energetic today. How nice.”

Miss Faltith turned to look at the man. He didn’t give any answer in particular, instead picking at the cloth that now wrapped around his neck.

A minute later, Wyn returned, a bag of coin clinking in her hand. Not just that, though. She had made her way around the commissions board, gathering a bunch of posters and papers. She had crumpled them into a big ball, and ignited the whole thing. She wiped her hands of the ashes, cleaning them against her jacket.

“I wasn’t gone for too long, was I? Not too far?” The man shook his head.

“What does that mean? And what was that?” Faltith asked.

“It’s nothing… don’t worry about it.” She said with a huff.

Letting out a sigh, something she seemed to do a lot when around Wyn, Faltith fished out a sheet of paper from under her desk.

“Alrighty, becoming an adventurer is rather simple. All we need is your name, picture, and a small drop of your blood, and we’ll be all set. While it’s not necessary to be ‘officially registered’, doing so does grant you perks accessible across all guilds across the Gigant Edge.”

Faltith handed the paper and an inked dipped feather to the man, who simply stared at the paper.

“Umm… sir, your name…?”

“I’m attempting to remember it.”

At that, Faltith turned to Wyn, a questioning look on her face.

“Oh right. He… doesn’t remember. He’s got memory loss.”

“I see… that’ll be a bit of trouble. Though, if you don’t remember your name, you can simply use an alias. We have no qualms against using false names.”

The man nodded, before delving deeper into thought. Reaching into the deepest parts of his hole-ridden mind, clawing at whatever vague wisps still exist. But in the end, nothing emerged.

“What about Clothy?” Wyn piped in half-heartedly, pointing at the black cloth wrapped around his arms.

“Please, Miss Wyn. Be serious. As a magus, you should know that names hold great importance.”

The man nodded. “Indeed. I may not remember much, but I know that a name holds great power. Names are one of the most powerful ways spells draw their power, after all.”

Faltith clapped her hands together. “Oh, are you a trained magus? Don’t get many of those around here. How about simply going with ‘Magus’, then? A title is hardly different from a name, after all. And we don’t get many of your kind around here, so there’s no risk of mixing up with someone else.”

“Hey. I’m a magus too, you know.” The two didn’t pay her any mind, which earned a scoff from Wyn.

After giving it some thought, the man nodded. “Magus is acceptable.” After writing down the name, Magus handed back the paper to Faltith.

“Wonderful. Now, I’ll need you to hold still for a minute as I get your picture.” Faltith took out a small canvas with a paint brush. Imbuing a small amount of mana within the brush. Sprouting to life, the brush tip began to work, paint flowing from the bristles in thousands of different colors as it began to capture Magus’ likeness on the canvas. After a minute, a one-to-one capture of the man was born on the canvas. The canvas then began to shrink and morph, until it fit within Faltith’s palm.

“Finally, a drop of your blood, please.” Holding out a small needle and a bottle with a clear liquid. Hesitantly, Magus held his finger to the needle.

“Um, sir, I’ll need a spot of exposed skin, please…” Nodding, Magus removed his cloak, revealing his upper body. The cloth wrapped all the way to his shoulders, covering part of his chest as well. Four small niches, three of which empty, lay in the center of his chest, unclear if it’s a part of his body or a part of the cloth, but it was clear that it had been embedded inside of his body.

“What… is that?” Wyn asked, pressing her finger against the smooth metallic object.

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” Magus shuddered at the touch. “Also, please refrain from doing that.”

“Fair enough…”

“Ahem…” Faltith cleared her throat, holding out the needle insistently. As curious as she was, a magus that seemed willing to modify their very body was one she was not keen to get too involved with. And she still had a job to do. “Whatever it is, I’ll still need some blood, if you’ll please…”

“Right, of course.” Magus took the needle, attempting to stab it into his exposed shoulder. Instead, the needle crumpled against his iron-like skin. Faltith could only stare in disbelief.

“My apologies. I seem to have broken the needle.” Magus handed back the needle, his blank face not giving a single hint of remorse.

“Right… no problem…” Faltith took out another needle from her desk. “Yet if we can’t penetrate his skin…”

“Hmm…” Wyn’s face lit up as an idea struck her. “Try casting another barrier spell!”

Magus nodded, though a bit confused.

“Hold my hand.” He held up his hand expectantly.

“Huh? What are you, a child?” Wyn scoffed, but placed her hand over his. Over his exposed shoulder, a small barrier of solid air formed. Wyn, taking the needle, stabbed it into Magus’ shoulder without a warning, shattering the barrier as though it were paper. As the needle penetrated his shoulder, his muscles stiffened. In an anguished cry, his arm knocked both the needle and bottle into the air. Clutching his shoulder, he fell to his knees as the cloth climbed up his arm, sealing the tiny wound in an instant.

Wyn didn’t miss a beat, leaping into the air to catch the needle and bottle. Stabbing the needle into the bottle, a single drop of red dripped out, staining the liquid a deep crimson.

“A-are you okay? That was…”

“Apologies. I was not expecting… that pain. And you had to go through such a thing as well?”

“It didn’t hurt that much…”

“...”

Faltith found herself at a loss for words as Wyn handed her the bottle. After a few minutes, Faltith handed her back a small card, inscribed on it were Magus’ name, picture and some runes that detailed his information.

Following that, the tour of the guild began. First were the inn rooms, where most of the adventurers would stay. For a measly 10 guls a night, an adventurer would obtain a warm bed, a restroom and most importantly a roof over their heads. Not many enjoyed camping in the wilderness, exposed to the elements and dangerous beasts. Each day had to be bought up front, though. No renting out multiple days in a row. If someone bit it during their expeditions, that room would be emptied out and cleaned by nightfall, no exceptions. Of course, if, like Wyn, you had only actually just stayed out too late, you were always welcome to collect your things the next day from storage. Wyn, though, didn’t have anything that actually needed collecting.

Next was the Merchant’s hall. Perhaps the third largest area of the guild, it was where one could sell and buy the harvests of an adventurer’s hunts. There, many merchants would package any valuable raw ingredients, couriering them all across Emijililan. There were a few private workshops there too, where artisans would process materials on site, typically in the form of potions, weapons or armor.

Next was the ‘party hall’, as the adventurers called it. A glorified den of depravity where the worst of society indulged. It was a flat, open air theater room/casino, the second largest area of the guild. The beating heart of the guild, as they called it. And it certainly did a lot of beating. If you held your hand to the door, you could feel the vibrations of the raucous through the thick wood. Wyn had only ever entered once, her first day at the guild. Never again, she vowed.

Finally, the mess hall. A massive food court filled with cuisine from all across the nation, and even some exotic types from elsewhere. There was never a minute of the day when it wasn't filled to the brim, nor filled with the scent of food. This was the last stop of Magus’ brief tour.

Wyn went all out for the night’s dinner. The carapaces sold decently, earning three gul each. Not that Wyn was ever strapping for coin. But feeding two people was going to dramatically increase her expenditures, so more money was always better than less. And besides, for his first night at the hall, Wyn had to make sure he had only the best.

The two settled into an empty table, Wyn plopping a plate with a massive, pan-fried breaded venison steak topped with a dark brown gravy.

“Listen, I know you said you don’t need to eat, but sometimes eating isn’t just for survival.”

“I thought eating was just how you sustain yourself?”

“Yea, sure, if you just want to survive, but that’s not how you live! No day is complete without delicious food. Eat something good enough, and maybe that rock you call a face might even crack a smile.”

Wyn prodded him again with a fork. Seeing her insistence, Magus stabbed his knife into his steak. He eyed Wyn’s movements, all while Wyn stared right back at him. With one swift motion, he cut through the tender flesh, bringing it to his mouth. He chewed slowly, processing the unfamiliar sensations.

“How is it?”

“It… is satisfactory.”

With a cold answer, Magus continued to work down the steak. With not even a hint of a smile, Wyn found it hard to read how he actually felt. Yet he continued to slice, and continued to chew. Slowly, piece by piece, until the entire steak was gone. With a small smile, Wyn did the same. The table etiquette shown by the two adventurers was an island in the raucous cafeteria around them. The smell and sound of alcohol being chugged surrounded the two, yet they enjoyed a sweet mug of (non-alcoholic) cider. Wyn could drink, but didn’t care for the taste of alcohol, and of course Magus did not order for himself.

The rest of the meal was completed in silence. The steak was always a favorite of Wyn’s, so she could spare no time on idle chatter. Luckily, her dinner partner was not the type to talk small either. Not that Wyn normally had anyone to eat dinner with. The rest of the guild didn’t pay Wyn much mind, and she merely returned the sentiment.

As Wyn set down her fork and knife on her empty plate, an adventurer walked up to her.

“Yo, Wyn. Who's your buddy?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“Nothing, just rare to see you eatin’ with someone else. A real fancy ‘un, too. The scorned blue blood finally found a partner of her own?”

“You could say that.”

“Course you failed, noble magi would be the type to stick together. Too good for us low born peasants?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Heard a new adventurer signed up. A noble-type, too. Rare as a Bia Gwyn, those are. Thought I’d drop by, introduce myself. Will say, though, nice of little miss blueblood to finally get a bodyguard. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt out there, after all!” The adventurer bellowed a laugh at his own joke. Wyn stood up, knocking her chair back.

“Take that back.”

“What? Just sayin’, a little noble’s daughter playin’ adventurer don’t belong here.”

“Arena. Quarter of a turn. You. Me.” With that, Wyn stormed off. Magus hurried out of his chair, following after her. He gave the adventurer a quick glance behind, before catching up to Wyn.

“What was that all about?”

“Just a squabble between adventurers. That’s all.”

“Where are you going?”

“The arena. Just a small ring where adventurers fight, showing off their strength. Perfect place to show him his place.” As she walked, Wyn’s grip on her sword tightened, the knuckles on her hand draining white.

Small was a bit of an understatement. The arena could easily hold around a thousand attendees, and the arena itself was a wide, flat pit of sand and stone that could fit a hundred. The seats were only at around half-capacity, but their passionate cheers and shouts easily made up for the empty seats. Only two people stood in the arena. Two adventurers, Magus presumed, carrying greatswords as tall as they were. They swung their sword, and swung and swung. Sparks scattered as the steel clashed, neither adventurer giving ground.

The battle ended soon, as one of the adventurers stabbed the other through their side. With a whistle, the referee called the match over. Holding a hand over the wound, with a quick whisper and a green glow, the wound sealed itself over. Stumbling to his feet, the downed adventurer shook the hand of the victor, before both heading to the exits along the arena and disappearing into the crowd of spectators. Through the jeers and cheers, Magus could make out the clinking of metal coin pouches trading hands.

“Is this meant to be a battle to the death?” Magus inquired.

“Of course not. But there’s no fun in a fight that doesn’t get a little heated.”

As she spoke, the referee stepped out onto the ring.

“Normally, we’d of course draw the next round of random contestants. But I’m happy to announce, we’ve got a challenge on our hands! Two of our very own adventurers, settling all their conflicts with nothing but their fists and swords! You know him, serial drinker amongst drunkards, with a fierce temperament, the Wild Rhon!”

The crowd cheered as the adventurer, Rhon, stepped onto the ring, waving his greatsword to the crowd.

“To my right, Guilabaster’s very own noble magus! Ice cold, yet wielding a sword as hot as her fuse is short, princess Wyn!”

“I said not to call me that!” Wyn shouted, yet was drowned out by the even louder cheering from the crowd. As the two stood in the arena, waiting for the referee to start the match, Magus settled into an empty seat in the stands.

From what Magus could gather, Rhon seemed a capable fighter. He was a good head and a half taller than Wyn, and seemed to have the advantage in build as well. At his side was a normal long sword. Neither contestant was heavily armored. This was bound to be a quick match, likely decided within the first blow. As the two shook hands, begrudgingly, Magus noted an armored man off to the side, inserting a slip of paper into the contestant box. That must be how contestants enter this competition. He gave half a mind to enter himself, but that thought was quickly forgotten as the match started.

The two leapt apart as soon as the match started, putting some distance between the other. Neither had drawn their sword yet, but their hands clutched tightly on their handles.

“Are you ready, Wyn? I’ll make you regret the day you chose to come here!”

Wyn ignored him, causing Rhon to scowl. With a roar, Rhon made the first move, crossing the arena in short strides. His draw was quick, slicing in a clean arc. Wyn, unphased, leaned backward, parried the blow with the pommel of her sword, sending the arc into the air. Ducking down, she pulled down her sheath with her left while drawing her sword with her right. In one clean cut, crimson dyed the leather of Rhon’s tunic and he fell to the ground. With a whistle, the referee called the match. Such a quick match, yet the crowd roared all the same. Whether fast or drawn out, the crowd simply loved to see the sight of blood. Especially between two who held rather poor reputations, whoever ended up flat on their back, the crowd still won.

After Rhon was healed, he pushed off of the referee, stumbling out of the arena into the crowd. Where he sat, Magus could see him being jeered by the nearby spectators. Not that he had anything to say back to them.

Wyn, on the other hand, seemed to part the crowd where she sat, everyone giving her some distance. She didn’t care, though. As she sat down, a small, smug smile broke through her facade, just itching for some praise. That much, even Magus could tell.

“You fought well. Though I must ask. You are clearly much stronger than most, if not everyone, here. Why do you then still participate?”

“Guh.” Wyn took a moment to ponder. “Winning feels good. That’s all there is to it. Especially against annoying pricks.”

“Even against someone much weaker than you?”

“Ack.” Wyn exaggeratedly flinched. “When you put it like that, I sound like a bully, huh?”

The next few rounds pass by quickly. While Wyn didn’t cheer like those around her, her eyes were glued to the ring, never deviating for a second. Even still, she couldn’t focus on the matches in front of her. Rhon got called up again, yet after his humiliating loss, he couldn’t bear to try again, and simply forfeited his round.

It was true that in terms of general capabilities, she definitely out classed the rest of the guild. Did she really just like picking on the weak? So distracted, she barely noticed when Magus grabbed her shoulder.

“Hwuh?”

Looking up, it seemed that the entire stadium was watching her.

“W-what’s going on?”

“They called your name again. Are you able to enter again, after already fighting?”

“Yeah. So long as you don’t ask to remove yourself from the contestants, you’re able to keep fighting as long as your name is drawn…”

Grabbing her sword, she once again skipped to the arena entrance. “So who is my opponent this time?”

First was another adventurer like Rhon. Well, they were all adventurers like Rhon. And, just like Rhon, they all fell soon after the other, ending in one, decisive blow. And after each victory, the energy of the room seemed to take a blow as well. Each would enter to hoots and hollers, only to leave in disappointed groans. After each round, the next hoot would be just a bit quieter, and the groan a bit more disappointed.

Wyn wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing steady despite it having been the 5th opponent of the night.

“Is there anyone else?” Wyn asked, annoyed.

Finally, silence. No one else rose to the occasion.

“Man, ref, why is the blue blood allowed to fight again? How’s any of us supposed to match an actual trained magus?” One of the beaten contestants whined. Shouts of agreement came up from all around the arena.

“Well… we can hardly refuse a certified adventurer from entering these bouts. If you have a problem, well, I’d recommend just asking the party in question…” The referee’s answer was answered with another wave of groans.

“Whatever, I’m done for the night anyway.” Wyn muttered, storming out of the arena. Magus quickly got up to follow her. As she left the room, two different adventurers stepped into the room, and the cheering resumed as though nothing had happened.