Chapter 6 - The Gate Of Another World

The city gate grew larger with every step.

At first, it had been nothing more than a shape in the distance.

Stone walls.

Tall towers.

Flags moving in the wind.

A dream painted across the horizon.

But now it was real.

Too real.

The outer wall rose so high that Enshin had to tilt his head back to see the guards patrolling the battlements. The stone blocks were enormous, each one larger than his chest, fitted together so precisely that the entire wall felt less like a building and more like part of the earth itself.

A tower stood on either side of the main gate.

Between them, enormous iron-banded doors stood open, leaving a passage wide enough for wagons, horses, merchants, guards and travellers to move through in steady lines. Above the archway, a carved crest watched over everyone entering the city.

Enshin stared.

His hands remained wrapped around the spare hauling rope fastened beside the wagon’s drawbar.

The horses were doing most of the work now, but he continued helping from beside them, his shoulders burning, his feet aching and his arms trembling whenever the wagon crossed uneven ground.

He barely noticed the pain.

His eyes were too busy.

The gate.

The armour.

The banners.

The spears.

The castle towers beyond the wall.

The people.

Real fantasy people.

Merchants with wagons waited in one line, arguing over stamped papers and cargo seals. Travellers in dusty cloaks stood in another, presenting identification tokens to gate clerks.

A woman with rabbit ears carried a basket of glowing blue flowers and kept telling one particularly aggressive blossom to stop biting the others. Two children with small horns chased each other between their parents’ legs until a guard cleared his throat and pointed them back into line.

A dwarf-like man with a braided beard sat on a crate beside a cart filled with metal tools, smoking a pipe that released green smoke rings shaped like tiny hammers. A mage in pale robes read from a floating scroll while a bored assistant held three ink bottles in one hand and a sleeping cat in the other.

An older woman sold skewers beside the outer road, shouting prices over the crowd. A pair of mercenaries leaned against the wall, one sharpening a dagger while the other laughed at a joke Enshin could not hear.

A priest in white-and-gold robes helped a limping traveller into the shade. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted at a lizard-like pack animal and immediately regretted it when the creature hissed back.

Enshin’s mind filled too quickly.

Sword slash from the hip.

Shield bash into knee strike.

Step in.

Pivot.

Cut across.

Could someone close that distance instantly by forcing mana through their legs?

Would a spear thrust be easier to evade by stepping outside its path or slipping inside its reach?

Could he copy that guard’s stance?

Was that woman’s curved blade meant for cutting or hooking?

Should he stop staring?

He was staring.

He immediately stopped.

Then started again.

“This is real,” he whispered.

A knight walking beside the wagon glanced towards him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Enshin looked straight ahead with complete seriousness.

For two seconds.

Then his gaze drifted towards another sword.

His fingers twitched around the hauling rope.

Melra noticed.

“You are doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where your face says you are imagining something foolish.”

“I have a normal face.”

“No. You have the sort of face that makes people check whether their buildings are insured against property damage.”

Enshin opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“That is very specific.”

“It has been a specific day.”

The wagon rolled closer to the gate.

The guards at the entrance had already spotted Malora’s escort approaching. Several moved quickly to clear a path. Others stepped forwards, their hands near their weapons without fully drawing them.

They saw the wagon first.

Then the rescued prisoners packed inside.

Then Lysa, unconscious beneath a cloak.

Then Mira sleeping beside her, one hand still clutching Lysa’s.

Then Melra standing near the wagon with dirt on her dress, blood on one sleeve and the expression of someone who had not enjoyed the luxury of patience for several hours.

Then Malora riding beside them.

Last, they saw Enshin.

Barefoot.

Still damp from the stream.

Dusty.

Scraped.

Wearing crooked shades.

Helping pull beside the horses as though he had decided they were merely optional assistance.

One guard blinked.

Another looked down at Enshin’s bare feet.

A third looked at the wagon.

Then back at Enshin.

“Captain Malora,” the first guard said, straightening immediately. “What happened?”

“Bandit hideout,” Malora answered. “Multiple captives recovered. Traffickers detained. Additional evidence is being secured and will follow under escort. We need infirmary access, prisoner intake and emergency clerks.”

The guards moved at once.

The orderly lines at the gate broke into organised urgency.

“Open the side route!”

“Call the infirmary runners!”

“Clear the road!”

“Get stretchers!”

“Move that merchant cart aside!”

“Emergency entry! Make room!”

The crowd reacted in waves.

Merchants pulled their wagons out of the path. Travellers stepped back. A mother lifted her child into her arms and turned the child’s face away from the injured prisoners.

The skewer seller stopped shouting prices and quietly lowered her tray.

The mercenaries beside the wall straightened, their laughter gone.

A man in fine clothes began complaining about the delay until one look from Malora silenced him completely.

The rescued prisoners shrank from the noise.

Melra climbed onto the wagon’s side step and raised her hands slightly.

“It is all right,” she said, her voice gentle but clear. “They are making room for you. No one is taking you back.”

Some of the prisoners looked at her.

Others did not.

But the words settled over the wagon like a blanket.

Mira stirred.

Her eyes opened halfway.

“Lysa…”

“She is here,” Melra said immediately. “She is still breathing. We have reached the gate.”

Mira tried to sit upright.

Her body disagreed.

She swayed, and Melra caught her shoulder.

“Do not start.”

“I’m fine.”

“No.”

Mira blinked at her.

Melra’s expression did not change.

“That was not a question.”

Mira looked as though she wanted to argue.

Then she looked at Lysa and remained quiet.

A team of healers came running from inside the gate.

They wore white-and-green robes with satchels across their chests. Two carried folded stretchers. An older woman moved directly towards the wagon and climbed aboard without waiting for permission.

Her gaze passed over the prisoners with practised speed.

“Signs of drugging. Restraint marks. Dehydration. Shock. Bruising.”

She pointed towards two assistants.

“Begin with the unconscious elf. Carefully. Support her neck and shoulders.”

Mira tightened her grip around Lysa’s hand.

“No.”

The healer looked at her.

Not unkindly.

Firmly.

“She needs care immediately.”

“I’m going with her.”

“Then move with us.”

Mira nodded once.

Melra guided Mira aside without forcing her to release Lysa until the stretcher had been positioned.

Enshin stepped away from the wagon.

He wanted to help.

He did not know where to put his hands.

Everywhere he looked, someone knew what they were doing better than he did.

That felt strange.

He had hauled the prisoners out.

He had fought.

He had pulled the wagon.

But now that they had reached the gate, his strength did not know what to do.

A guard noticed him standing too close to the stretcher team.

“You. Step back.”

Enshin obeyed immediately.

“Yep. Sorry.”

The guard paused.

That had been too easy.

He looked Enshin up and down again.

“Are you with the prisoners?”

“No.”

“With the escort?”

“Kind of?”

“With the bandits?”

Enshin’s face twisted.

“No.”

The guard’s hand moved closer to his sword.

Enshin quickly raised both hands.

“Very no. Extremely no.”

Another guard leaned closer to the first.

“Is that the one from the report?”

“What report?”

“The barefoot wagon one.”

“There is no barefoot wagon report.”

“There is now.”

Malora dismounted and approached before the confusion could grow teeth.

“He is under my observation.”

The guards straightened.

“Yes, Captain.”

Enshin lowered his hands.

“Thank you, scary lady.”

The area around the gate fell silent for half a breath.

Melra slowly looked towards him.

Mira, half supporting herself beside Lysa’s stretcher, stared through her exhaustion.

One guard raised his eyebrows.

Malora turned her head.

“Scary lady?”

Enshin froze.

His fear of judgement had arrived late, but when it arrived, it brought luggage.

“I mean…”

He looked at Malora.

Then at the sword on her hip.

Then at the guards staring at him.

His voice shrank.

“Respectfully?”

For one long, terrible second, no one moved.

Then a knight behind Malora coughed into his fist.

It sounded suspiciously like a laugh being murdered.

Malora did not look back.

“Your name,” she said.

Enshin straightened.

“Enshin Malietoa.”

A nearby clerk, who had arrived carrying a writing board and ink stylus, began scribbling.

“Spell it.”

Enshin gave him the spelling slowly.

The clerk frowned.

“That is not a local family name.”

“I figured.”

“Place of origin?”

“Earth.”

The clerk stopped writing.

The guard beside him looked up.

Malora’s gaze sharpened.

Melra inhaled quietly.

The word returned without being spoken.

Summoner.

It stood between them anyway.

The clerk looked towards Malora.

“Record his origin as unknown and foreign for now,” she said.

The clerk nodded quickly and resumed writing.

“Identification?” the guard asked.

Enshin blinked.

“Oh. Yeah. I actually have that.”

Everyone looked towards him.

He reached into his pocket.

Three guards immediately tensed.

Enshin froze again.

“Wallet,” he said carefully. “I’m reaching for my wallet.”

Malora watched him closely.

“Slowly.”

“Very slowly.”

He pulled out his wallet with exaggerated care and opened it.

Inside were things that did not belong in this world.

Plastic cards.

A small amount of Earth money.

A student card.

His driver licence.

Enshin removed the licence and handed it to the guard.

The guard accepted it between two fingers as though it might bite.

He stared at it.

Then turned it sideways.

Then upside down.

Then back again.

“What material is this?”

“Plastic.”

The guard stared at him.

“That explains nothing.”

“Yeah, fair.”

The clerk leaned over.

“It has his face.”

The guard looked at Enshin.

Then at the licence.

Then back at Enshin.

“The face matches.”

Another guard frowned.

“It could be a glamour seal.”

“It contains no mana.”

“Then how is the image there?”

“Perhaps it is dead mana.”

“That is not a thing.”

“It could be a foreign thing.”

The first guard looked towards Enshin.

“What authority issued this?”

“Government.”

“Which government?”

“Australia.”

The clerk wrote the word down, hesitated, then looked deeply unhappy with it.

“That is also not a local kingdom.”

“I’m learning that.”

The guard held the licence closer to his face.

“What does this marking mean?”

“That part says ‘driver licence’.”

“Driver of what?”

“Cars.”

“What are cars?”

Enshin opened his mouth.

Nothing useful came out.

He closed it.

“Fast wagons.”

The guard narrowed his eyes.

“Without horses?”

“Usually.”

The guard slowly lowered the licence.

The clerk stopped writing.

Another guard whispered, “Dangerous.”

Enshin pointed weakly towards the wagon.

“I mean, normal cars are safer than that thing was.”

No one looked reassured.

The guard handed the licence to Malora.

Malora examined it with less confusion and more suspicion.

The card was smooth, precise and too cleanly made. The image did not shift like magic. The markings were sharp. The smaller letters meant nothing to her, but the object itself revealed something important.

This young man had not come from a nearby village.

He had not come from any ordinary place.

Malora handed it back.

“Keep it.”

Enshin’s face brightened with relief.

“Oh, thank goodness. I need that.”

“For what?”

He looked at the licence.

Then at the medieval gate.

Then at the fantasy guards.

“I have no idea anymore.”

He returned it to his wallet.

Behind him, the healers carefully lifted Lysa onto the stretcher.

Mira remained beside her, one hand resting on Lysa’s arm. Her steps were unsteady, but she refused to let go.

Melra walked with them for several paces before stopping and looking back towards Malora.

Malora understood.

“Go,” the captain said. “Stay with them.”

Melra nodded.

Then she looked towards Enshin.

Her expression held warning, confusion and something almost resembling reluctant gratitude.

“Do not disappear.”

Enshin pointed towards the gate.

“I don’t know where anything is. Disappearing would be advanced.”

Melra stared.

“Do not try.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned and followed the healers through the gate.

Mira looked back once.

Her eyes settled on Enshin.

The suspicion had not vanished.

But it was no longer simple.

She looked exhausted enough to collapse.

Still, she forced out the words.

“If you lied…”

Enshin shook his head.

“I didn’t.”

Mira held his gaze for another moment.

Then Lysa’s stretcher moved, and Mira immediately turned away.

The healers carried Lysa into the city.

The rescued prisoners followed in groups. Some were helped by guards. Some were supported by healers. Others leaned on one another.

Several glanced back towards Enshin before disappearing through the gate.

One older man gave him a small nod.

Enshin did not know what to do with it.

So he nodded back.

Awkwardly.

Too late.

The man had already turned away.

The wagon looked emptier now.

But it was not empty.

The three crates remained wedged near the back.

Enshin noticed them.

His eyes sharpened.

The crates.

The stolen goods.

His spoils.

His first fantasy loot.

His emotional compensation for being kidnapped by light, deceived by Vrok, nearly crushed by a wagon, interrogated by elves and judged by a talking ram.

He slowly reached towards the nearest crate.

Malora’s voice stopped him.

“No.”

Enshin froze with one hand in the air.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was checking.”

“You were claiming.”

He lowered his hand.

“Is checking not the first step towards claiming?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Malora walked to the back of the wagon and placed one hand on the nearest crate.

“These are evidence.”

Enshin’s shoulders dropped.

The word struck him harder than expected.

“Evidence.”

“Stolen goods,” Malora said. “Likely taken from merchants, travellers and captives. Some items may help identify other victims. Some may help us discover where these bandits were selling people. Others may be returned to their rightful owners.”

Enshin looked at the crates.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Then opened again.

“But…”

Malora waited.

He pointed weakly.

“I carried them.”

“You carried the prisoners.”

“And the crates.”

“The prisoners matter more.”

“I know that.”

“Then act like it.”

That landed.

Not cruelly.

Cleanly.

Enshin’s hand dropped fully.

Malora’s expression softened by one degree.

“You did well bringing them here.”

Enshin looked at her.

She continued.

“Because of this wagon, those people reached the gate alive. Because of these crates, we may be able to destroy more than one bandit group. Proof matters. Goods matter. Records matter. Trails matter.”

Enshin looked back towards the crates.

The fantasy loot sparkled less.

The evidence became heavier.

Malora tapped the crate once.

“You thought of the prisoners first. Continue doing that.”

Enshin scratched the side of his face.

“I was also thinking about the loot.”

“I know.”

His head snapped towards her.

“You know?”

“You reached for those crates with the expression of a child watching someone take away his dessert.”

A guard coughed.

Enshin lowered his head.

“Harsh.”

“Accurate.”

“Still harsh.”

Malora gestured towards two guards.

“Secure the wagon and the crates. Mark them under my authority until the investigation team arrives.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The guards took hold of the horses’ reins and began guiding the wagon aside.

Enshin watched the wagon roll away with the crates.

His hand lifted slightly.

Not enough to stop them.

Just enough to mourn.

He reached after them with the sadness of a man watching treasure become paperwork.

Malora watched him.

Enshin sighed.

“Ehh.”

He dropped his hand.

“Whatever.”

Malora did not believe him for a second.

But she allowed him to keep the lie.

The clerk cleared his throat.

“What should be done with him, Captain?”

Enshin looked around.

That question suddenly mattered a great deal.

He had no money.

Nowhere to stay.

No legal status.

No food.

No shoes.

No idea where he was.

And now no crates.

Malora looked him over again.

He straightened beneath her attention and failed to appear any less exhausted.

“You said you wanted to become an adventurer?”

Enshin’s entire face changed.

“Yes.”

The answer was immediate.

Bright.

Far too bright for someone who had just dragged a wagon filled with injured people down a hill.

Malora noticed.

So did the guards.

Enshin tried to calm his expression.

“Yes,” he repeated more normally. “I mean, yes. That is one of the things I would like to do in this current situation.”

One guard whispered, “Current situation?”

Another replied, “Does he normally speak like this?”

Malora ignored them.

“The guild can register you, test you and decide what restrictions are necessary.”

“Restrictions?”

“You are an unknown foreigner who appeared in a summoning beam near a trafficking hideout.”

“Fair.”

“You are also physically capable of fighting through that hideout alone and dragging a loaded wagon from it.”

Enshin glanced towards the wagon.

“With hill problems.”

“Still noted.”

“Right.”

Malora turned towards the clerk.

“Paper.”

The clerk handed her a sheet and a writing board.

Malora wrote quickly.

Her handwriting was sharp, clean and controlled. Every stroke looked as though it had been trained.

Enshin tried not to stare.

He stared.

She noticed.

“Do you need something?”

“No. Your handwriting looks like it could command soldiers by itself.”

The clerk blinked.

One guard looked away.

Malora continued writing.

“That is the strangest compliment I have received today.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I did not thank you.”

“Oh.”

Malora finished the letter, folded it and sealed it with a mark from the ring on her finger.

Then she held it out.

Enshin accepted it with both hands.

“What is this?”

“A recommendation and observation letter for the guildmaster.”

“Recommendation sounds good.”

“Observation is the important part.”

“That sounds less good.”

“It is honest.”

He looked at the folded letter.

“Why are you giving me one?”

“Because I have seen enough.”

Enshin blinked.

Malora’s gaze moved briefly towards the gate through which the prisoners had been taken.

“You fought the bandits. You freed the captives. You brought the wagon here. You obeyed when instructed to stop. You did not use the prisoners as shields. You did not threaten the injured. You answered our questions honestly, even when those answers made you look worse.”

Enshin’s expression shifted.

Quietly.

Malora continued.

“You are likely a summoner. That makes you dangerous because of what you may become. But for now, you appear harmless unless provoked—or pointed towards people who deserve violence.”

“That is…”

He searched for the right response.

“Actually pretty accurate.”

“Yes. That is why it is in the letter.”

He looked at the sealed paper again.

“So this helps me?”

“It helps the guild handle you properly.”

“That sounds like a yes with chains attached.”

“It is.”

“Fair.”

He turned the letter over.

“Do I open it?”

“No.”

He immediately stopped sliding his thumb beneath the seal.

Malora narrowed her eyes.

“You were about to open it.”

“I was curious.”

“Do not.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pointed through the gate.

“Go directly to the guild. Register. Give that letter to the guildmaster or a senior receptionist. Do not cause trouble. Do not accept work before registration. Do not enter restricted areas. Do not fight anyone unless it is necessary to protect yourself or another person from immediate harm.”

Enshin nodded seriously.

“Directly to the guild.”

“Good.”

He looked into the city.

The street beyond the gate divided into more streets.

Stone roads.

Hanging signs.

Crowds.

Shops.

Side alleys.

Stairs.

Banners.

People everywhere.

His mind filled instantly.

A fruit seller juggled red apples to entertain three children.

A blacksmith’s apprentice carried a bundle of spearheads and nearly dropped them when a dog with two tails ran between his legs.

A pair of robed scholars argued beside a street map near a fountain, one pointing east while the other pointed towards the sky for reasons Enshin could not understand.

Two guards escorted a drunken man who kept insisting that he was “not drunk, merely politically disappointed”.

A woman with silver hair and tiny antlers walked past carrying bread, flowers and a sleeping baby strapped to her back.

Above the street, laundry hung between buildings beside strings of paper charms that glowed faintly in the breeze.

Enshin stared.

Sword at left hip.

Dagger in boot sheath.

Knight’s stance.

Merchant wagon-wheel design.

Magic lantern.

Rooftop route.

Could someone jump that gap?

Probably not.

Maybe with mana.

What did the guild look like?

Would there be a request board?

Would there be a rank test?

Could he get a sword?

No.

Money first.

Food.

Shoes.

Guild.

Guild first.

Malora was still speaking.

“Follow the main road until you reach the fountain square. Turn right at the blue-roofed archive hall. Continue for three blocks until you see the mercenary notice columns. The guild is the largest building behind them, with a bronze crest above the entrance.”

She fixed him with a hard stare.

“If you reach the livestock market, you have gone too far. If you reach the temple road, turn back and ask a guard. Do you understand?”

Enshin heard:

Main road.

Fountain.

Turn right.

Three blocks.

Largest building.

Bronze crest.

Something about livestock.

He nodded.

“Yes.”

Malora stared at him.

“Repeat it.”

Enshin froze.

A dangerous request.

“Main road.”

“Yes.”

“Fountain.”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

“Three blocks.”

“Yes.”

“Big building.”

Malora waited.

Enshin searched his memory.

“Bronze… something.”

“Crest.”

“Bronze crest.”

“And?”

He looked proud of himself.

“Don’t go to the cow area.”

A nearby guard made a small choking sound.

Malora closed her eyes for a moment.

“Livestock market.”

“Right. Don’t go there.”

“If you do, ask a guard.”

“Ask a guard.”

“Do not wander.”

“I will not wander.”

Malora opened her eyes and looked directly at him.

“You will wander.”

Enshin looked offended.

“I might not.”

“You will.”

He considered arguing.

Then he looked at the enormous fantasy city beyond the gate.

His face betrayed him.

Malora sighed.

“Ask a guard when you get lost.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A healer called from inside the gate.

“Captain! We need confirmation for the infirmary route!”

Malora turned towards the voice.

Duty pulled her away.

Melra and Mira had already gone with Lysa. The rescued prisoners were being moved through the gate. The crates were under guard. The wagon had become evidence.

The city was waiting to swallow every loose piece of the day.

This was where they separated.

Malora looked back towards Enshin one last time.

“Guild. Directly.”

Enshin raised the sealed letter.

“Guild. Directly.”

“Do not make me regret that letter.”

“I will try very hard.”

“That is not as reassuring as you think.”

“It’s honest.”

Malora stared at him.

Then, for the briefest moment, one corner of her mouth moved.

Almost.

“Go.”

Enshin stepped through the gate.

The city swallowed him in noise.

Vendors called from their stalls.

Wagon wheels clattered across stone.

Guards shouted instructions.

Children ran past with sweet buns in their hands.

A blacksmith’s hammer rang somewhere deeper within the city.

Magic lanterns hung from posts even though it was still daylight, their crystals glowing faintly behind the glass.

A woman with feathered ears argued with a merchant about the price of apples.

A musician played a stringed instrument on a corner while a tiny winged creature sat on his shoulder and sang backing vocals terribly.

An old man swept the front of a shop while muttering at pigeons that looked far too large to be ordinary pigeons.

A tall lizardfolk courier rushed past carrying scroll tubes strapped across his back, his tail flicking whenever anyone came too close.

Enshin stood just inside the city.

For several seconds, he forgot how to move.

His heart pounded.

His body hurt.

His stomach was empty.

His feet were bare.

He held the first official document he had ever received in another world.

He had imagined this.

For years.

A gate into a kingdom.

A real city.

A place where the story was supposed to begin properly.

Except he was damp from shoving his face into a stream, exhausted from dragging a wagon, possibly legally concerning and one wrong turn away from the cow area.

He smiled anyway.

Because even with all of that—

especially with all of that—

it was real.

He started walking.

Main road.

Fountain.

Right.

Three blocks.

Big building.

Bronze crest.

Do not go to the cow area.

He repeated the directions in his head.

Main road.

Fountain.

Right.

Three blocks.

Big building.

Bronze crest.

Do not go to the cow area.

A group of adventurers passed on the opposite side of the street.

One carried a curved sword.

Enshin’s mind betrayed him instantly.

Draw from the hip.

Slash upwards.

Step through.

Could mana make the step faster?

What if the foot struck the ground first and then released force?

Would that become a step-blitz?

His fingers twitched.

He realised he had stopped walking.

A man behind him bumped into his shoulder.

“Move, traveller.”

“Sorry.”

Enshin moved.

Main road.

Fountain.

Right.

Three blocks.

Big building.

Bronze crest.

A mage nearby raised one hand and opened a glowing circle in the air to light someone’s pipe.

Enshin turned his head.

Raw magic?

Chantless?

Circle first, then flame?

Could he do that?

No.

Guild first.

He walked faster.

Then he saw the fountain.

It stood in the middle of a wide square, carved from pale stone. Water spilled from the mouth of a winged lion into three circular basins. People moved around it in every direction.

Children sat along the edge, tossing copper pieces into the water. A painter had set up an easel nearby and was painting the gate in bright colours.

Two elderly women fed crumbs to fat birds with jewelled collars around their necks. A guard tried to stop a goat from climbing onto a flower cart while the flower seller shouted that the animal had done this before.

Enshin stopped at the edge of the square.

“Okay.”

He turned right.

At least, he was fairly certain it was right.

The street opened towards more buildings.

One had a blue roof.

Good.

Archive hall.

He grinned.

“I am amazing at directions.”

He walked past it.

One block.

Two blocks.

Three blocks.

Then he saw the mercenary notice columns.

They were tall stone pillars covered in nailed papers, wax seals, wooden tags and metal plates. Armed men and women stood around them, reading offers, arguing over prices and pointing towards posted contracts.

Enshin slowed.

Mercenaries.

Real mercenaries.

Some wore armour.

Some wore cloaks.

Some looked as though they had not smiled since birth.

A woman with a scar across her jaw leaned against one column, sharpening a dagger without looking down at it. A broad man with a tower shield negotiated caravan pay with a merchant.

A thin man wearing a feathered hat loudly claimed that he could “protect anything from anything”, while everyone around him ignored him with impressive teamwork.

Enshin’s mind lit up again.

Dagger in reverse grip.

Fast draw.

Close range.

Bad idea to stare.

He stopped staring.

Then stared towards the opposite column.

A posted request displayed a crude drawing of a horned monster.

Enshin leaned closer.

The writing meant nothing to him.

He leaned closer anyway, as though proximity might unlock literacy.

Nothing happened.

“Right,” he muttered. “Can’t read.”

That felt like a problem.

A large one.

He turned away from the columns.

Largest building behind them.

Bronze crest.

He looked up.

There it was.

The guild.

Enshin stopped.

The building was massive.

Not tavern massive.

Not large-hall massive.

Massive.

It stretched across the end of the street like a fortress that had decided paperwork was also a weapon. Wide stone steps led towards enormous double doors reinforced with dark metal.

Balconies lined the second and third floors. Tall windows glowed with warm interior light. Flags hung from the upper walls.

Above the entrance, a bronze crest displayed crossed weapons, a scale, a scroll and a shield worked into a single design.

This was not merely an adventurer guild.

It looked like the entire city came here whenever something needed to be done.

Enshin’s mouth slowly opened.

“Oh.”

People moved in and out constantly.

Adventurers carrying weapons.

Mercenaries wearing mismatched armour.

Merchants holding documents.

Farmers carrying rolled petitions.

A group of guards escorting a man in chains.

A tired-looking mother holding a missing-person notice.

Two mages arguing over a sealed request tube.

A clerk chasing someone down the steps while shouting about unpaid registration fees.

Enshin’s heart pounded.

His exhaustion did not vanish.

But excitement rose straight through it.

This was the place.

The real place.

The place every story promised.

He climbed the steps.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

His hand reached towards the door.

He paused.

Fear of judgement flickered through him.

He was barefoot.

Dirty.

Damp.

Wearing strange clothes.

Holding a sealed letter from a knight captain.

He did not know the rules.

He did not know the language.

He did not know whether they would laugh.

A pair of mercenaries passed him and glanced towards his feet.

One raised an eyebrow.

Enshin’s stomach tightened.

Then he looked at the bronze crest again.

Adventurers.

Mercenaries.

Quests.

Magic.

A real guild.

His fear did not disappear.

But excitement stepped in front of it.

He pushed open the door.

Noise rolled over him.

The interior was enormous.

Not big-room enormous.

Not busy-tavern enormous.

It was as though someone had taken a town hall, mercenary office, quest counter, monster-processing station, public records desk and adventurer market, then crushed them all beneath one roof and told everyone to keep moving.

People walked everywhere.

Adventurers crowded around request boards taller than houses.

Mercenaries stood beneath hanging signs advertising work for hire.

Clerks stamped papers behind long counters.

Guards delivered reports to uniformed administrators.

Farmers argued near a civic desk about ruined fields.

Merchants negotiated caravan escorts beside rows of contract tables.

A woman cried quietly at a missing-person counter while a receptionist recorded every word.

Mages stood on a balcony above, sorting glowing request slips that floated through the air like fireflies.

A man dressed like a butcher pushed a covered cart towards a monster-processing counter, where something beneath the cloth twitched and made a wet clicking sound.

No one panicked.

A bell rang.

Someone shouted, “Dungeon proof to the left! Civic complaints to the blue desk! Mercenary contracts to the rear hall! New registrations at counter seven!”

Enshin stood just inside the doorway.

Completely still.

His eyes shone behind his crooked shades.

Swords.

Shields.

Staffs.

Bows.

Armour.

Magic circles.

Rank plates.

Quest boards.

Mercenary tags.

Monster parts.

Maps.

Counters.

Balconies.

People everywhere.

His mind tried to observe everything at once and nearly overheated.

“This…”

A beastkin adventurer carrying a sack of monster claws walked around him.

Enshin did not move.

“This is a guild?”

A clerk hurried past with a stack of papers.

“This is the central guild office, mercenary hall, civic administration centre and request bureau. New registrations are at counter seven.”

Enshin stared after him.

The clerk did not slow down.

Enshin gradually smiled.

“This is an entire government building with side quests.”

A nearby mercenary looked towards him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Enshin stepped fully inside.

The doors closed behind him.

For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt as though he had reached the front door of the story.

Not the beginning.

That had been messy.

This was the front door.

He clutched Malora’s sealed letter.

Then he looked around at the massive, roaring, living machine of the guild.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s register.”

A booming laugh answered from somewhere deeper inside the hall.

“SO!”

The sound rolled over the crowd like thunder wearing a smile.

Enshin turned.

People near the centre of the hall shifted aside.

Not because they were frightened.

Because they recognised that laugh.

A huge man stood near the back of the guildhall, broad enough to make the counter beside him appear small. He wore an eyepatch over one eye, had arms like carved stone and carried a grin that looked as though it had survived wars, debts, monsters and bad paperwork.

Enshin had no idea how long the man had been watching him.

The huge man’s uncovered eye settled on the seal in Enshin’s hand.

His grin widened.

“You must be the one carrying Captain Malora’s letter.”

Enshin blinked.

“Who’s Malora?”

“The knight captain who sent you here.”

Enshin pointed towards the door.

“Ohhh. The scary lady.”

The huge man laughed harder.

Enshin lowered his voice.

“She is very scary.”

The man’s laughter shook the nearest counter.

“Good! Then you are smarter than you look!”

Enshin looked down at himself.

Bare feet.

Torn shirt.

Damp hair.

Crooked shades.

Scraped hands.

Sealed letter.

He sighed.

“That is probably fair.”

The huge man continued laughing as he approached.

“Welcome to the guild, boy.”

Enshin looked up at the towering man moving through the crowd.

The enormous hall continued moving around them.

Stamps struck paper.

Mercenaries argued.

Adventurers shouted.

Clerks hurried between counters.

Requests changed hands.

The world kept moving.

Enshin was still exhausted from the cave.

Still damp from the stream.

Still hungry.

Still broke.

Still confused.

And yet his grin returned.

The guildmaster stopped in front of him.

“Name?”

Enshin raised the sealed letter.

“Enshin Malietoa.”

The guildmaster accepted the letter.

His grin widened.

“Let us see what kind of storm walked through my front door.”