After riding for nearly 5 hours non-stop, a large city came into view. It seemed almost like a mirage, having such a large city in the middle of the desert, though this was common this deep into the scorch-lands. Massive black walls surrounded the city, if not for the fact he was on top of a sand dune he wouldn’t have been able to see the inside of it.
He wasted no time sightseeing and quickly descended towards the city gates where two guards were standing.
“Identification,” ordered one of the guards as Aset’s horse came to a halt.
“Oh yes,” replied Aset, before feigning a quick search of his belongings.
“It must’ve fallen out while I w-“ the guard stopped Aset’s sob story midway before shaking his head. “We can’t let you in without identification. If you misplaced yours then you’ll just have to go back to the last city you were in and get it replaced,” said the guard with a bored expression before going back to his post.
[This is why I hate cities. Their security is always unbearably high,] he complained to himself before deciding to throw the whole innocent adventurer act out the window.
“Look, I know you guys don’t get paid nearly as much as you should. How about this, I leave you this horse here and you let me in. It’s not like I’m a security threat or anything, just look at me. I’m just a novice adventurer who got too ahead of himself and wants to come back home,” he started, trying to find any trace of greed within the guard’s eyes.
After a few quick wordless exchanges, Aset got off the horse and walked through the city gates. From the view inside the city, one would never have guessed that it was located in the middle of a harsh desert. Some sort of dome-like barrier protected the city from the scorching sun, and if not for its slightly blue hue the barrier wouldn’t even be noticeable. This allowed the residents of the city to build structures however they liked without having to worry too much about the sun. The trend seemed to be that the more exotic-looking architecture would be found the closer to the center leaving the simplest of brick houses near the outskirts.
As Aset passed by the more dull-looking houses closer to the city gates, he began surveying the area, trying to figure out just how tight the security was. Apart from a few guards stationed along the main streets, the patrols didn’t really encompass every nook and cranny of the city, or at least that was what Aset got out of walking around the city for a while.
Security seemed especially lax in the less ostentatious areas where crime would be higher in occurrence. This was something Aset planned on taking advantage of. Though his current clothes made him look helpless, they also made him look extremely poor. And though novice adventurers weren't exactly wealthy, they still made enough to wear decent clothing. So if he was going to play the part, he had to look it first.
[Hmm, this guy fits the bill well enough,] thought Aset as he noticed a decently dressed boy around his age carrying a bucket of water through one of the alleyways.
“What are y-“ Before the boy could utter another word, a rusty dagger had already found its way into his windpipe. The boy's eyes stared straight ahead, still confused about what was happening.
“That’s right, don’t let it get onto the clothes,” whispered Aset as the boy tried applying pressure to his wound, though it was a fruitless endeavor. The bucket of water splashed on the floor before the boy fell to his knees, his hand still holding onto the wound for dear life, though the light in his eyes was dimming, and his movements were becoming less pronounced.
“That’s no good, it got onto the collars.” Aset turned the boy over so that the blood would drip straight to the floor without ruining the clothes, and began undressing him. By this time the boy had already stopped moving, he was now but a warm corpse. Aset quickly changed his attire, wearing the boy's jacket but leaving the stained shirt on his body. After dragging the corpse deeper into the alleyway, he began searching for the Adventurer's Guild.
***
“Sorry sir, without an adventurer's plate, we can’t allow you to join any parties,” said the clerk for the fifth time. This was the first Aset had ever heard of having to prove your identity to party up with adventurers, but he expected as much from such a large city. Everyone was desperate to make a living, even those who weren’t Mahihks, just like Aset, though his reasons for joining were different.
“Can’t you just give me one right now? Like I told you, I lost mine on an adventure.”
“If that is the case, go to the city hall, they should have copies of your identification documents,” countered the clerk, clearly annoyed by Aset’s persistence.
[Yeah, they’ll have my records all right. As well as every murder I’ve ever committed,] thought Aset before giving up on the Adventurer’s Guild plan. Records in this world were controlled by the Mahihks of the god Thoth, they knew everything about everyone using the power given to them by the god of wisdom, nothing could escape their records, nothing. For instance, Aset had been flagged as a class red criminal a few months ago even though he had never once been caught and was currently banned from entering all major cities further inland. Which was part of the reason he was even in the scorch-lands to begin with.
“Look, you can go check out the mercenary guild if you’re that desperate. They don’t have an identification process there,” commented the clerk before helping the next adventurer in the queue.
[Hmm, mercenaries are harder to fool than adventurers, but I’m sure I can figure something out,] he thought to himself before going in search of the Mercenary Guild.
***
“We’re looking for a healer, preferably a novice. We aren’t going to pay much, but I can assure your safety,” announced a large man with a scar that ran across his face. On the inside, the Mercenary Guild looked more like a tavern than a guild. One side of the hall had chairs and tables set up just as one would find in a tavern, and there were even drinks to drive the point home. Mercenaries lived from paycheck to paycheck, so most guilds found that they could make even more money if they sold alcohol right where they got paid.
On the other side, however, it looked more like the Adventurer's Guild. With a clerk behind a counter, and a wall filled with requests right beside it. The man who was looking for a healer was standing in front of the quest board holding a quest receipt in his hand.
“Nobody?!” asked the man again, but most everyone just ignored him, the few that were actually paying attention to him seemed hesitant. You see, healers weren’t uncommon, especially novices, but they had heard about jobs like this way too often, and way too often would healers come back dead or unable to go on quests ever again. Party’s specifically looking for newby healers were a red flag if anything, but despite this, one black-haired gentleman raised his hand.
“Here!” he shouted as he ran towards the group, stumbling over the foot of one of the more mischievous patrons on his way. A few laughs erupted from the other parties reading the quests plastered on the quest board, but the black-haired gentleman paid them no mind.
