Copper

By the time Elias and Tavian reached the front doors of the Adventurers’ Guild, Elias had learned three things.

The first was that arriving before opening did not mean arriving early. The second was that Tavian could make conversation with almost anyone if left unsupervised for more than thirty seconds. The third was that at least half the people registering as adventurers appeared to have made the decision sometime after breakfast.

The boy directly ahead of them had brought a woodcutting axe.

Not a battle-axe...a woodcutting axe. There were still chips of bark caught beneath the iron head.

Elias had spent several minutes trying not to look at it.

“You’re doing it again,” Tavian said.

“Doing what?”

“Judging him.”

“I’m not judging him.”

“You’ve looked at his axe seven times.”

“Eight.”

Tavian stared at him.

Elias adjusted the strap of his pack. “The handle is cracked, that's all.”

The boy ahead of them glanced over his shoulder.

Elias looked elsewhere.

The line moved.

Inside, the Guildhall was nothing like Elias had imagined from the outside. He’d expected something formal, perhaps even severe, considering the size of the building and the armed people constantly entering it. Instead, the main hall reminded him of a market that had been forced indoors. Long counters divided the room into sections, clerks carried stacks of paper between desks, adventurers gathered around enormous boards covered in contracts, and somewhere on the upper floor two people were arguing loudly about compensation for a dead horse.

A row of battered tables occupied one side of the hall. Most were already taken by adventurers eating breakfast, repairing equipment or sleeping with their heads on their arms.

Elias slowed.

He had passed the Guildhall hundreds of times.

Being inside felt different.

Above the central counter hung five metal plaques.

COPPER. IRON. STEEL. SILVER. GOLD.

There were other distinctions within the Guild, Elias knew, but those were the recognized professional ranks. Copper adventurers could take local work and low-risk contracts. Iron opened regional contracts and more dangerous hunts. Steel allowed participation in major expeditions without direct supervision. Silver and Gold belonged to people whose names occasionally appeared in newspapers.

Elias had never met a Gold adventurer.

He’d seen one once.

“Registration!”

A clerk waved from the far counter.

Tavian nudged Elias.

“That’s us.”

“I can see that.”

“I know. I was helping.”

“You weren’t.”

They approached the desk.

The clerk was a thin woman perhaps ten years older than Elias, with black hair pinned behind her head and the exhausted expression of someone who had already answered the same question fifty times that morning.

“Names?”

“Elias Varren.”

“Tavian Rook.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen.”

“Previous Guild registration?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Criminal convictions?”

“No.”

Tavian hesitated.

The clerk looked up.

Elias looked at him too.

“What?”

“Why did you hesitate?”

“I was remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

“Whether being banned from the South Market counts.”

The clerk lowered her pen.

“Why were you banned from the South Market?”

Tavian thought about it.

“Goat.”

Elias closed his eyes and rubbed his temples...this jerk...

The clerk waited.

“It wasn’t my goat.”

“That somehow makes this worse,” Elias said.

“No criminal convictions,” Tavian concluded.

The clerk stared at him for another moment, then decided she is not paid enough to investigate.

“Ten silver each.”

Elias already had the coins in his hand.

He placed them on the counter.

For five months, he’d taken whatever work he could find around Bellhaven. Deliveries, warehouse loading, cleaning stables, repairing fences, carrying timber. Ten silver represented weeks of work once food and household expenses were removed.

The clerk swept the coins away in less than a second.

“Read.”

She pushed two sheets across the counter.

Elias picked his up.

The first half concerned Guild authority, liability and the conditions under which an adventurer could be suspended. The second concerned death.

The Guild would make reasonable efforts to recover registered adventurers’ remains when practical. Recovery was not guaranteed. Equipment found on a deceased adventurer would be returned to designated family after outstanding Guild debts and recovery expenses were deducted.

Elias read the paragraph twice. Beside him, Tavian had already reached for the pen.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been holding it for twelve seconds.”

“I read quickly.”

“You skimmed it.”

“Reading quickly with less suffering.”

Elias finished the document before signing.

The clerk took both forms, stamped them, then reached beneath the counter and produced two small copper-colored badges.

Elias picked his up.

It wasn’t impressive.

An oval of darkened metal, slightly larger than a coin, stamped with Bellhaven’s Guild crest on one side and his registration number on the other.

He turned it over in his fingers.

So that was it...

He had walked into the building as Elias Varren, unemployed son of a failed craftsman and he was Elias Varren, Copper adventurer. 

“Party registration?” the clerk asked.

“Yes,” Elias said.

Tavian said, “Apparently.”

Elias looked at him. “What?”

“We haven’t discussed a name.”

“We don’t need a name.”

“Every good party has a name.”

“No, famous parties have names. Most parties are registered under the leader.”

The clerk interrupted. “He’s right.”

Tavian looked betrayed.

“Then Varren Party?” she asked.

“No,” Elias said.

Tavian brightened. “Rook Party?”

sigh “Absolutely not.”

The clerk rubbed her forehead.

“You can register without a formal name.”

“That,” Elias said.

She pushed another form toward them.

“Party leader?”

Tavian pointed at Elias.

Elias looked at him. “What?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“You’ve already memorized the rules.”

“That doesn’t make me leader.”

“It means I don’t have to memorize the rules.”

The clerk’s mouth twitched...Elias signed.

Five minutes later, they stood in front of the Copper contract board.

This, more than the badge, made the whole thing feel real.

Dozens of notices covered the wood. Some were handwritten. Others carried official Guild seals. Each listed payment, estimated danger, required party size and whether the Guild accepted responsibility for inaccurate information.

Elias began reading from the upper left.

CELLAR INFESTATION – 14 COPPER

“Rats,” Tavian said.

“Large rats.”

“Still rats.”

DELIVERY ESCORT, EAST ROAD – 9 SILVER

“Better.”

“Minimum three registered adventurers.”

Tavian frowned.

LOST LIVESTOCK – 22 COPPER

“No.”

“Agreed.”

HERB COLLECTION, SOUTHERN MARSH – 2 SILVER PER BUNDLE

“Poisonous marsh snakes,” Elias said.

“How do you know?”

“Guild manual.”

“Of course.”

They continued.

Most contracts paid less than Elias had hoped. The better ones required larger parties, previous contracts, or Iron supervision. A few had already been claimed, their notices marked with red ink.

Then Elias saw one near the bottom.

MILL ROAD – REQUEST FOR CLEARANCE

A grain merchant’s wagons had been attacked twice along an abandoned stretch of road west of Bellhaven. Cargo had been damaged but no drivers killed. Witnesses reported three to six small predatory animals, species uncertain.

Payment: four silver upon confirmed clearance.

Recommended party: two or more.

Elias pulled the notice free.

Tavian read over his shoulder.

“Four silver.”

“Two each.”

“If there are three.”

“Witnesses said three to six.”

“I meant silver.”

Elias looked at him.

Tavian smiled.

“I know. I’m enjoying this.”

Elias read the notice again.

The location was close. Less than an hour outside the western gate. They could inspect the road, identify whatever was attacking the wagons, and return before evening if the contract proved beyond them.

Four silver wouldn’t buy Lysa’s medicine.

But it would get him closer.

“Take it?”

Tavian’s expression changed slightly. “Yeah.”

They brought the notice to the Copper desk.

A different clerk checked their badges, read the contract and looked at their weapons.

“First contract?”

“Yes.”

“You know clearance doesn’t mean chase them away.”

Elias nodded. “We need to remove the threat.”

“And if the witness estimate is wrong?”

“We return and report.”

“If you encounter anything above Copper classification?”

“We withdraw.”

“If your partner is injured?”

“Stabilize, withdraw, report.”

The clerk looked at Tavian.

“And you?”

Tavian nodded toward Elias. “What he said.”

The clerk sighed. “Try not to die.”

She stamped the contract.

Their career had begun.

It lasted eleven minutes before Elias discovered a problem with his sword.

They had crossed the river and were approaching the western gate when his scabbard shifted sharply against his leg.

Elias stopped.

Tavian nearly walked into him.

“What?”

Elias pulled at the harness.

One of the leather loops had twisted.

His father’s modification hadn’t failed, Elias’s repair had.

He stared at it.

Tavian leaned closer.

“Bad?”

“No.”

“Your face says bad.”

“My face doesn’t say anything.”

“Your face has an extensive vocabulary.”

Elias unfastened the belt. The stitching holding the lower loop had begun pulling free. He could repair it.

Ten minutes, perhaps fifteen.

He opened his pack.

Then stopped. The needle and thread were there. The small awl wasn’t, he had left it on the kitchen table.

Elias stared into the pack.

Tavian waited.

“I forgot something.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Tavian sat down on a nearby stone, Elias looked at him.

Tavian was shaking.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I would never.”

“You’re making noise.”

That ended whatever restraint Tavian had left. He bent forward, laughing hard enough that a passing woman looked at him strangely.

“Five months,” he managed. “You prepared for five months.”

Elias closed the pack.

“I can improvise.”

“You packed three days of food for a road an hour away, but forgot the tool you actually need.”

“I don’t need it. It would simply make this faster.”

Tavian wiped his eyes.

“Should we go back?”

“No.”

“Elias.”

“No.”

He examined the damaged loop again.

The gate stood perhaps a hundred paces ahead.

Beside it were a stable, a wheelwright and several small businesses catering to travelers. Elias noticed a narrow storefront squeezed between a cobbler and a shop selling dried meat. Three shields hung outside, along with a painted sign offering repairs.

He pointed.

“Five minutes.”

“You said that about breakfast.”

Elias ignored him.

The shop smelled strongly of leather and lamp oil. An elderly man behind the counter was repairing a boot and barely looked up when Elias entered.

“Need this punched and restitched.”

The man examined the harness.

“Eight copper.”

Elias stared at him.

“For two holes?”

“For two holes you can’t make yourself.”

“Four.”

“Eight.”

“Five.”

“Ten.”

“You increased it.”

“Eleven if you keep talking.”

Elias placed eight coppers on the counter.

Tavian was still smiling when they left.

Elias now possessed three coppers.

He tried not to think about the medicine.

Beyond Bellhaven’s western gate, the city disappeared surprisingly quickly. Stone buildings gave way to fields divided by low walls, and the road narrowed beneath a line of old trees still dripping from the morning rain. Elias had traveled this way before, but never carrying a Guild badge.

That small piece of copper changed how he looked at everything.

Every footprint near the roadside became worth noticing. Every movement in the brush demanded a second glance.

After half an hour, Tavian noticed.

“You’re gripping your sword.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’ve had your hand on it since the gate.”

Elias released the hilt.

Tavian smiled. “Nervous?”

“Yes.”

The answer seemed to surprise him.

Elias glanced over. “What?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d pretend you weren’t.”

“Why would I?”

“You pretend you’re not tired.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Tiredness is measurable.”

Tavian waited.

Elias frowned. “That sounded better before I said it.”

They continued west.

The abandoned mill road branched from the main route near an old stone marker. Weeds had overtaken most of it, and wagon tracks were visible in the soft earth where merchants had recently begun using the shortcut again.

Elias crouched beside the first set of tracks.

Broken grain scattered the mud...something had eaten it. He found prints nearby.

Small, four toes, several sets. Tavian lowered his spear.

“Dogs?”

“No.”

“Wolves?”

“Too small.”

Elias followed the prints toward the grass.

The Guild manual had illustrations of common predators, but none matched perfectly. The claws were unusually long, and the hind feet landed much farther forward than he expected.

He moved another few steps, then stopped.

A low clicking sound came from the brush.

Tavian heard it too.

His spear came down from his shoulder.

The atmosphere changed.

Elias drew his sword, the blade came free cleanly. The grass moved and a creature stepped onto the road.

It stood perhaps as high as Elias’s knee, with a narrow body covered in coarse gray fur. Its front legs were longer than its rear ones, giving its back an awkward downward slope, while its mouth opened farther than seemed appropriate for the size of its skull.

Elias recognized it.

“Ridgeback scavenger.”

Tavian didn’t look away.

“Dangerous?”

“One isn’t.”

Another emerged behind it.

Then another.

Elias counted quietly.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The grass moved again.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Tavian exhaled.

“The contract said three to six.”

“I remember.”

“Nine.”

A ninth creature stepped onto the road.

Elias tightened his grip.

The Guild instructions were clear. If a contract’s information was substantially wrong, Copper adventurers were expected to withdraw and report.

That was the intelligent decision.

Then Elias noticed the smallest ridgeback limping. Another had patches of missing fur. A third was painfully thin.

He looked at the spilled grain, then toward the overgrown hills beyond the road.

“They’re hungry.”

Tavian glanced at him.

“That’s comforting.”

“No. Look at them.”

“I am.”

“They shouldn’t be this close to the city. Something pushed them out of their territory.”

One of the ridgebacks lowered itself toward the ground.

Elias took a slow step backward and the creature followed. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingers.

Five months of training had not prepared him for the simple realization that the thing in front of him wanted to bite him.

Tavian shifted beside him.

“What do we do?”

Elias watched the ridgebacks spread across the road.

He thought about four silver.

Then he thought about the paragraph he’d signed less than two hours ago concerning recovery of remains.

“We leave.”

Tavian didn’t argue.

They backed away together.

The nearest ridgeback followed for several steps before stopping.

Then something roared in the hills. It wasn't  too loud or too close but it was deep enough that every ridgeback on the road froze.

A second later, all nine animals fled in the opposite direction.

Elias and Tavian remained completely still, neither spoke until the road was empty. Finally, Tavian looked toward the distant hills.

“Was that in your manual?”

Elias stared at the trees.

“No.”

For the first time that morning, Tavian didn’t laugh.

Elias slowly returned his sword to its scabbard.

Their first contract had just become considerably more interesting.