The guild building was, to put it mildly, disappointing. It looked worn and unkempt, as if it had been neglected for a decade. Vincent, however, knew better than to judge a building solely by its peeling paint.

  Stepping inside, he found the interior was no better. The air was stale, and patches of mold speckled the corners. Of the four service counters, only one was occupied.

  Approaching it, Vincent faced a mature man with tired brown eyes and a face etched with a few weary wrinkles. "Hello," Vincent began. "I wish to register as an adventurer."

  The man looked Vincent up and down. "An adventurer, huh?" He scanned Vincent's fine attire, a stark contrast to the squalor of the guild hall. "You don't look like you need the money."

  "I could always use extra coin, and the convenience of a guild card."

  "Don't we all," the man muttered with a dry laugh, sliding a form across the counter. "You do know how to read and write, though? It's a requirement."

  "Yes, I do."

  The form was simple:

  · Name

  · Class and Occupation

  · Religion

  · Referral

  He answered as follows:

  · V

  · swordsman

  · Limuiere

  · None

  He had chosen the name 'V,' inspired by the golden-eyed man from his dream. Since the adventurer's card would serve as his identification, he wanted to avoid attention, listing the most common class and a mainstream religion.

  When he handed the form back, the clerk's reaction was immediate.

  "'V'?" The man fixed Vincent with a skeptical stare. "A single letter for a name?"

  "Yes."

  "A 'Swordsman' in your kind of attire?"

  "Yes..."

  "And no referrals, when you're dressed in fine leather?"

  "Yes..."

  The clerk fell into a heavy silence, his eyes boring into Vincent. "So," he said finally, "you're either a rich brat taking us for a joke, or you're a criminal. And I don't know which one I hate more."

  Vincent leaned in closer. The clerk tensed, his hand darting into his pocket, but he froze when he saw the two gold coins Vincent placed silently on the counter. His posture softened instantly.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "But I'm neither," Vincent said, his voice low and congenial as he met the clerk's eyes. "Did you already forget? We're friends, aren't we? Help a friend out, won't you?"

  A soft, complicit smile spread across the clerk's face. He leaned in, swiftly palming the coins. "Of course I'll help a friend out. But..." he let the word hang in the air.

  "But?"

  "We don't have any instructors available to check your swordplay and give you a rank above F, our lowest."

  "What a shame, don't you think?" Vincent put on an obviously fake, worried frown and slid two more gold coins across the worn wood.

  The clerk's hand was a blur as he took them. "But," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "since I've seen you fight with my own eyes..." He gave Vincent an unnaturally long, appraising look. "...I can put you in at D rank."

  Vincent passed a single, final coin, testing the limits of their new "friendship." "You've seen more than just my fighting."

  "Ahh, you're right!" the clerk exclaimed, putting on a theatrical performance for the empty hall. "You saved me from an ogre! How could I forget? If only I could give anything higher than C rank on a clerk's referral alone."

  "It's good enough, my good friend."

  The clerk then grasped Vincent's hand in a firm, businesslike shake. "Come see me tomorrow for your adventurer card, my good friend 'V'."

  "Will do my friend, will do."

  ***

  Laying on the lumpy tavern bed, Vincent fell deep into thought. He had just stabled the wagon and horses nearby. He'd considered selling them here but knew a border town was no place to get a fair price; he was stuck with them for now.

  His mind then turned to the journey ahead. A conflict simmered within him: he didn't want to wander aimlessly, yet the idea of a meticulously planned adventure felt sterile, like reading a book's ending before its first chapter. He craved the thrill of exploration and the authenticity of surprise. At the same time, his pragmatic nature hated the idea of heading into the unknown unprepared, wanting to research and ready himself for what lay ahead.

  "What the fuck am I thinking about?" he muttered aloud to the empty room. "I'm trying to go on an adventure. I'm supposed to experience new things. I should just let them be surprises."

  With that decision made, his thoughts drifted to the chaotic events of the past few weeks. He had entered the forest searching for his sister and also stumbled upon elves. Thinking escorting them home would be a simple, worthwhile experience, he had agreed. It ended up being far bloodier than he could have ever anticipated.

  The memory of the fight reminded him of the wound he never got properly diagnosed. I should find a healer, he decided, *maybe before, or just after, I get the adventurer's card tomorrow.*

  Finally, with his immediate path settled, he closed his eyes and let himself slowly drift to sleep.

  ***

  "Breakfast."

  Once awake,Vincent went straight downstairs to order.

  What he was served was a plate of sausage and a tall mug of beer.

  He glared at the meal in utter confusion until the bartender sauntered over. "What? Don't like the breakfast, Your Highness?"

  "Who in their right mind drinks beer for breakfast?"

  "Can't stomach a real drink, kiddo?"

  "Get me something else."

  "Like wine, fancy boy?"

  "Don't you have anything non-alcoholic?"

  "Didn't know we had a child at the table."

  "Get me water," Vincent said, his patience thinning. Her mocking tone and thick accent were already grating, and now he had to endure her blatant disrespect. But he still had business in this town, and causing a scene would only complicate things. He bit his tongue and tolerated it.

  After forcing down the meal, he went to a healer whose location he'd grudgingly gotten from the bartender.

  The clinic was, like everything else in this town, nearly empty. At least the lack of a queue meant he was seen almost immediately.

  The healer was an old man with a crown of white hair. Vincent took a seat beside him and recounted how he had received the wound.

  The old man, quite reasonably, was skeptical. There was no scar, no sign of poison, curse, or infection. Nevertheless, he performed a thorough examination, earning his fee.

  As the old man expected, he found no abnormalities.

  With the good news confirmed, Vincent finally headed to the guild to collect his adventurer's card.

  Entering the guild, Vincent was met with a relative sense of activity. It wasn't bustling, but compared to the near-total emptiness of the rest of the town, the two dozen or so people inside constituted a crowd. A second receptionist—a young brunette woman—had joined the clerk. The two lines in front of the counters, while short, combined to nearly a dozen people, making it the busiest place Vincent had seen since arriving.

  After a short wait, it was finally Vincent's turn. He stepped up to his "friend's" counter with a broad, theatrical grin. "Hello, friend!" he began with exaggerated enthusiasm.

  The clerk's eyes lit up with recognition and mischief. "Why, hello, my good friend 'V'!" he replied, matching Vincent's tone perfectly.

  "I have come to inquire after mine document from mine great and trusted friend," Vincent continued, embellishing his speech with grandiose hand gestures.

  "Oh, great heavens!" the clerk lamented, placing a hand over his heart with a theatrically sorrowful expression. "It appears that mine great friend only deigns to visit in times of direst need!" His exaggerated pout made it extremely difficult for Vincent not to burst out laughing.

  "But fret not, mine great friend!" the clerk declared, his voice booming. "I have thou fine guild card right here upon my person!" With a flourish, he produced the card from his pocket and presented it to Vincent with a bow.

  "Hah, thanks. And goodbye," Vincent finally chuckled, dropping the act.

  "The honor was all mine," the clerk replied, his genuine smile making it clear he had enjoyed the performance as much as the coins he'd received the day before.

  Without bothering to check the quest board, Vincent left the guild. He headed straight for the stables, paid the upkeep for his horses and wagon, and guided them out, leaving the quiet town of Limmark behind him.