The sun rose the following morning, sprinkling rays of heat over the world. The song of life rose with it, signaling to all those sleeping that it was time to begin the daily work. However, Jake was awake well before the sun touched the ground he sat on. He found himself capable of only a few hours of rest before his body was shaken to life by terrors of the mind. His dreams were twisting again, and it seemed it may take a day or two for the spell to pass. Vivid sounds of screams. The faces of those he’d lost. Their cries for his help and the fading smile of the woman that was stolen from him. A stench of foul rot clung to his nose when he’d awoken. A scent so strong he’d thought there were Maedra crawling along the walls of the room. His skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat and his lungs burned. It felt like he’d spent the entire night running.

 

Rather than lay in his pool of sweat and wallow in the past, Jake crawled out of bed and decided to spend the rest of the night being productive. If he could not sleep, then he would prepare for the next day. He would tend to his gear. His armor was cut up in several places, his clothes sported holes and tears, and his blades had dulled edges that needed sharpening. With the work to be done, he left the inn and sat down beside the building. Far enough from the windows to not bother anyone but out of the way of the roads to not be an impediment should a cart need to pass in the morning.

 

He did make sure to be on the side of the sunrise, however. At least he’d get to see that.

 

With the plan to simply replace his clothes and his armor, Jake decided to focus his attention on mending his weapons. He started with the elven blade, tending to his most precious possession first. It was one of two remaining weapons that had belonged to his mentor, a memento of sorts. With enough meaning in metal alone that made Jake treat it with extreme care. Its sister was packed away, locked safely in the rented wardrobe he was using. Jake considered exchanging his Spell Blade for it, but Jake recognized the need to diversify his toolkit.

 

Each weapon had its use and the Elven Mithril, though capable of channeling mana, couldn’t be infused with the elements to enhance his attacks. Also, should the Elven blade he carried break from use, Jake wanted to at least have one in good condition. For what it was worth, Jake wanted at least one of them to survive this journey. It would be shameful if he returned with two broken Elven swords and the reason being that he’d shattered them along the way.

 

He wiped down the edge with a clean rag and a bit of oil, cleansing it of goblin filth and residue that was left over from the prior days’ hunts. The mithril blade did not seem to rust and had never dulled thus far, whether because of its composition or his care Jake wasn’t sure. But he would not let himself wait to find out. Maintaining the good condition of his weapons was both out of respect for them and a matter of life and death. These blades were critical to his survival, literally. Thus, he took care to regularly wipe down the blade with clean materials whenever possible.

 

Afterwards, he always made sure to check its sharpness. He turned its edge up to inspect the bite of the blade, testing it with a few blades of grass that he ran across the metal. As always, the weapon remained ready. A friend that would not fail him no matter how much use it was put through. Out of everything Jake learned, it was that one’s blade would be your only friend in your most dire moments. When it was between you and your foe, relying on the arrival of a savior was ludicrous. You might as well die right then and there.

 

“Delmuth…” Jake murmured to himself, his finger gently pressing against the edge. He tapped along the length of the blade, pressing his index finger to the blade as a test of its bite against flesh. He did so gently, careful not to break skin. “I wonder if you knew you’d meet your end down there. Did you plan for me to have these after Mur brought me to you?” He whispered, aware that he would never know the answer to such a question.

 

Darius had been in the Ravine for far longer than Jake, had fought the Maedra for longer, and had lived for an impossible amount of time. He was an Elf, of course. It could be true that Delmuth was in the Ravine even before Jake was born, but again--Jake would never know. Aside from Helena and Lydia, there was no one left to ask. Mur, maybe, but he was far too stubborn to give away such details.

 

Jake frowned and ran the blade over the whetstone just a few times, refining the edge a hair to ensure it was in peak condition. Unnecessary but he figured the fraction of additional sharpness would help in a pinch. “I just wish you could see where these blades will take me,” Jake said, sheathing the sword. He gave the soft, dark blue sheathe a lasting look before placing it to the side.

 

The next to be mended was the Spell Sword. A custom weapon forged by Hulgrok, created with the purpose of hunting and slaughtering Maedra. The sigils were still dug into its pommel and the sides of the blade, but he regularly checked to make sure they weren’t chipped or degraded. Faulty sigils would lead to reduced effects. However, even those sigils wouldn’t save the weapon from the inevitable.

 

Jake grimaced when he looked at the blade’s condition. Forged from typical metals found within the Ravine, it certainly wasn’t as durable as the Elven Mithril. Yet, Hulgrok wasn’t a fool. He knew the weapon would be put to regular use so he’d made sure to use top quality minerals. Even so, it was bent slightly and the edge was chipped in more than one place. Issues that would require a careful touch to fix. There was a consideration to find a blacksmith to do it, but he didn’t want to spend the coin. If he could do the work himself, he might as well save a few silver.

 

Thus, he plucked a mallet from his repair kit. Using some heat and some gentle but firm smacks with a mallet, he coaxed the blade straight. He worked the mallet along the blade, kneading it like dough to smooth out the visible warping. It would never be perfect again, but Jake didn’t need it to be. When he was satisfied, he moved to his whetstone and began to run the edge over it. With each tamed grind, he shaved off millimeters of metal to gradually remove the gaps. Reinvigorating the weapon and bringing it back to life.

 

Satisfied, he applied a bit of heat to strengthen the metal, cleansing it of impurities. Then, he sent through it a touch of mana to energize the core. 

 

“And you…” Jake smirked and blew softly on the edge of the blade, whisking away a speck of dirt that had found its way onto the reflective sword. Jake’s eyes met his reflection’s as he looked along its length. “Where will you leave me?”

 

His eyes narrowed briefly before his fingers glided over the side of the blade. Unlike the elven metal, this sword would not last forever. It physically could not do so due to the quality of steel it was composed of. Eventually, Jake would swing it a final time and Hulgrok’s gift would leave him behind. Shattered or blunted, chipped or cracked. Jake did not know when that time would come, but he hoped it was far off. Hulgrok’s work wasn’t something he wanted to have to give up so easily. He wanted to at least try to find another dwarven blacksmith before the sword met its end. That way, maybe, he could have the blacksmith forge him another and better version. One that wouldn’t be easily replaced.

 

The knives were last to be fixed. Having seen the most work, with their being used for both killing Goblins and harvesting marks, Jake had to spend a lot of time sharpening their edges again. He feared he might snap them in half from how much he was forced to run them over the whetstone. Yet, they were as reliable as the elven sword. Determined to prove their worth, the knives returned to life beneath his fingers. As if crying out, “you won’t get rid of us that easily!” A lively chuckle found its way from his throat as he finished mending them.

 

He set his repaired weapons off to the side and neatly organized them for later when he would leave. With them finished, the next task would be to fix his armor. Or at least patch it up for temporary use. After yesterday, he had little faith it would last him through these next few days. When he held his leather armor in front of him, his lips curled into a deep frown as that fear became less an expectation and more a fact. This was the armor he’d purchased in the Ravine. After all of the beatings he’d taken and the battles he’d been through, it was well worn. The stiched seams were splitting. The leather was twisted and contorted. The edges frayed and split. It was also losing its stiffness, making it soft and easy to puncture by even simple weapons. No wonder the goblins had scored so many hits on him.

 

“Yea, I’ll have to replace this,” he mumbled, setting the armor down and huffing as he did a fit of currency math in his head. How much would armor cost up here on the surface? Would he find something similar? Or would he need to change his style of equipment? Fighting the Maedra didn’t require anything special, as their attacks would tear through almost everything except for metal armor. Scouts essentially wore the bare minimum as a result. But Goblins, Wolves, Kobolds, Trolls. All the various creatures on the surface, and the dozens of different weapons they each would carry… What would be the best set of equipment to deal with them all?

 

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Not getting hit at all would be a good start.” An impossible task, even for him. His brutish tactics and lack of general strategy would never let him get away with that. Jake was no fool. He knew his combat style wasn’t great when it came to close quarters fighting. He was no swordmaster nor was he a proficient mage. Rather, he sat square in the center. Mediocre with the blade. Mediocre with magic. Good enough in both to deal with the typical threats without getting his head lopped off, but he wondered how he might fare against someone like Yir, Chul, or even Koro. The Guardians of this world. Magic wise, he might be able to last a decent amount of time, but if ended up stripped of that?

 

A sigh left his lips as he looked to the sky, seeking a distraction from those deplorable thoughts of obvious failure. The morning sun split the rolling puffy clouds apart, revealing a near endless, deep blue sea beyond them. A handful of birds swam through that gorgeous sapphire sea, their wings flapping every so often as they soared along to their destinations. Far beyond the reaches of any predators. Detached from the antics of the vicious style of life on the surface. What Jake wouldn’t give to live that carefree.

 

“There you are, Mr. Furrow.” Ralph came around the corner of the inn, likely alerted to where Jake might be hiding due to the sounds of metal being struck a short while ago. “Breakfast is ready. Will you be eating with us?”

 

Bringing himself back to the requirements of the world, Jake nodded, his stomach threatening to growl as he caught a sniff of food in the air. “Yes, I will.” He put on his armor, donned his clothes (he had been sitting there in just underwear and a thin shirt), and then nestled his knives on his lower back. Knowing he’d be putting them down in a moment, Jake carried his swords by their sheathes. He followed Ralph inside for the morning meal.

 

At one table, two familiar adventurers were seated and enjoying their morning conversation. When the door opened and Jake stepped inside, both looked over to offer a brief greeting. Across the room at the other occupied table, a prissy huff greeted him at the same time. Jake nodded briefly toward the adventurers, then took his seat at the table with the high and mighty one. She scowled at him, her jaw flexing as she clamped her mouth shut with excessive effort. Though her eyes were full of disdain, she made certain to not nip at him. Likely in order to not repeat her first meeting with him. Jake ignored her glare and set his swords beside him against the wall.

 

“Good morning, Miss Hera,” Jake said, adjusting in his seat in search of comfort. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. Antagonizing her beyond casual levels of courtesy wasn’t necessary, nor worth it.

 

She huffed again and rolled her eyes. “Yea, whatever.”

 

Jake shrugged, having made his attempt to extend a branch of peace, and let her be. If she wouldn’t take it, he couldn’t force her to. But, he wouldn’t deny that he found just a little bit of fun in bothering her. He considered an additional prod or two, maybe a brief comment about her persuasive tactics he’d seen the prior afternoon. Not to piss her off but maybe get another huff and an eye roll.

 

However, before he could do so food emerged from the back room. A typical breakfast was served and Jake was presented with plenty of variety to sate his appetite. Having spent enough time wasting away his morning, Jake ate quickly, drank a glass of cool and fresh milk, then set a coin of silver on the counter as a thank you. Ralph opened his mouth at first to refuse but Jake was out the door before he could even contest. Jake offered a wave over his shoulder to show his gratitude, then headed for the Guild.

 

The Guild this morning was just as active as the previous one. With dozens of bodies moving in and out, voices of greeting echoing through its halls, and lively Adventurers winding up for a day of hopeful glory and favoring rolls. Yawns, cat-like stretches, and grumbling filled the gaps of silence as those who struggled to wake up continued their morning fight. Others, who were wide awake, helped corral the lethargic parties together and discussions eventually arose as the collectives decided on what tasks to take. Some fools shouted for dragon slaying, others groaned over the simplest task of harvesting weeds again. Others said nothing, leaving everything to their brave leadership.

 

The tone shifted upon Jake’s arrival. So much that it was noticeable and Jake found it discomforting. Heads turned to acknowledge the familiar new face. Some conversations stopped. Whispers rattled as people exchanged looks. Unease caused Jake’s stomach to twist a little as he stepped through the open threshold.

 

Then, a man shouted from within the herd of gawking sell-swords.

 

“Ah-hah! I want my money, Boris! Pay up, fucker!!” He howled, immediately whirling to lock eyes with another individual. A person who groaned and rolled his eyes so hard in his head Jake thought they might never roll back to normal. He began to fish out coin from a sack tied to his waist.

 

“I knew he’d make it.”

“Why wouldn’t he? It was just goblins.”

 

Whispers of Jake spread through the hall, but he paid them no mind. He figured this was typical banter whenever newbies showed up in this place. Especially ones that returned for round two. New faces here in the frontier were likely rare. Adventurers who traveled here didn’t have much going for them elsewhere, were trying to escape from someone or something, or were trying to get ahead of the curve. With the area so fresh to the Guild’s eye, treasure and glory was easier to find where there were less bodies. Add in Jake’s skin tone and his attitude, they only made him stand out further. Now that he thought about it, every other adventurer within the hall at least had one person they were paired with, too. He was the only soloist.

 

“Oh. That might be another reason…” He mused, tapping his teeth quietly together as he approached the receptionist desk. The window he walked to only had one person ahead of him so Jake waited patiently for their business to finish. At his turn, he met a set of beaming but sleepy looking eyes.

 

Ever diligent and bright, a woman with red eyes, red hair, and red lipstick stood across the desk. Dressed in her neat green and white guild uniform, she looked more like a doll than a young woman. The receptionist greeted Jake with a smile, her voice just as energetic as the prior times he’d seen her. “Good morning, Mr. Furrow.” Incredible.

 

“Good morning,” Jake looked her over and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. From so close, Jake could see bags under her eyes. From the light red eyeshadow, Jake noted her attempt to cover them with makeup. “Are you not tired?” She was awake when he’d come back and she was here now. Counting the hours in his mind, Jake had to wonder--had she even slept?

 

“Ah, I’ll be taking some time off this afternoon after the morning rush.” Her upturned lips wavered a little as his perceptive eyes saw easily through her facade. “Thank you for your concern. I thought I was hiding it pretty well, though…” Her cheeks reddened just a hint as she pursed her lips.

 

Ah, the poor thing. He felt a twinge of regret for pointing it out. She was doing her best. So, not wanting to pry into her personal life, or embarrass her by accident, Jake politely changed the subject. “Should I give my report on last night’s raids, or should I wait a little longer?”

 

She perked up and bounced slightly at his question. “Ah! Yes. One moment, please.” 

 

Twirling, she spun on her small feet and pattered away in a slight rush. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor, her flowy skirt swaying around her pale thighs as she nimbly danced through the management section. Jake followed her with his eyes, tracing her steps out of mere curiosity as she went to a section of shelves at the back of the room. A finger traced over the various cubes, her eyes scanning the tiny plates until she found what she was looking for. In one of those cubicles was a small coin purse. Her dainty fingers plucked it off the shelf and she retraced her path, promptly returning to the counter.

 

“Here you are, Sir.” The purse hit the counter with a dull thump as she set it down before him, the coins inside rattling noisily inside. Jake clenched his jaw and felt several eyes suddenly turn his way. “Your reward. Calculated from the number of ears, knowledge of the hostages being returned, your note of another party being rescued, and the incentive pay for completing your first requests with the Guild. Upon the return of the other party and verification of the other group of hostages being rescued, the manager has also set aside an additional amount as well. That second nest was apparently an issue that the Guild wasn’t sure what to do with, so they felt it fair to be generous.”

 

Jake pulled apart the strings, releasing the knot, to open the mouth of the pouch. He stretched the leather then peered inside. There were several silver coins and a bunch of coppers beneath them. Enough coin to fill both hands. “Er, excuse me?”

 

The girl smiled at him, folding her hands neatly on the counter in front of her. “It is your reward, Sir.” There would be no arguing.

 

Retying the strings of the pouch, Jake sighed and took it from the counter. “Shouldn’t this come after I give my report?” Reluctant to accept the money but not wanting to cause a commotion, Jake tied the pouch of coins to his hip. The receptionist then retrieved a bag covered in dried blood from beneath the counter. The same bag that had been stuffed full of Goblin ears.

 

“For your efforts, the manager elected to distribute a proportional reward. There was no need for the reports as we had enough evidence right here with your bag.” As Jake took his bag, the receptionist explained the proactive decision made by the Guild manager.

 

“And rather than wait for my report, he just did the math based on how many I killed,” Jake rumbled as he pulled the bag close to himself. He stared at the blood stained container, his lips pressing firmly together in a slight fit of annoyance. It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t quite happy with this. It seemed unfair.

 

“Correct. Such is an option available to the guild. Some rewards may have predetermined amounts set by the requester and won’t change regardless of the completion details, making them easy to pay out. Though, similar in the fact that a base amount will be issued upon completion, quests by the Guild itself are a wee-little bit different…” The receptionist beamed as she went on to explain the reward system.

 

In essence, proposed quests from independent persons had set rewards based on what was offered upon completion. Requesters would provide the Guild with a task that needed done, pay a fee to have it issued to Adventurers as well as for processing costs, then they would provide a reward that could be earned for completing the required task. Simple. The Guild did set minimal rewards for certain tasks but often made exceptions for poorer individuals, especially when it came to threats of monsters near villages, farms, and along key routes of travel. While most quests were rewarded with coins, sometimes items and promissory notes were offered instead. Or they were given as an addition to the coin reward.

 

However, Guild issued quests were different. Guild issued quests would give out proportional rewards based on various defined factors such as monsters killed, resources gathered, areas mapped and sentried, distance traveled if it were an escort request, and also danger levels.

 

The more an Adventurer did, the more the Guild would pay for their effort and service to the area. These quests were convenient when it came to monster hunting, as numbers were rarely known and a Guild could put out a blanket request to hunt them down in a region. The same could be done with materials, especially wood during fall and winter seasons. Collecting firewood was a necessity. Paying people to help gather it to boost stockpiles was a no-brainer.

 

Higher ranked Guild quests would naturally pay out a much higher reward than lower ranks simply due to the greater degree of expected danger involved with them.

 

Rewards for Guild quests were typically paid out also in coin, like Independent Requests, but the Guild could also attach additional Adventurer dependent rewards. As such, completion of a quest could result in either an increase in rank, a voucher for goods, or some other itemized reward based on the needs of the Adventurer and the resources available to the Guild. Additional tasks completed during the quest’s execution, so long as they were verifiable, would lead to an increase in the reward amount or the inclusion of those secondary rewards.

 

“While the raid on the first Goblin nest had a set reward since it was an independent quest, the second nest was a Guild issued request. The ears collected were tallied up in order to calculate your reward.” The girl slid the two requests over the counter for Jake to see and compare them. “We also found several other adventurers had taken up the second nest but failed to complete it for reasons unknown. So the manager assumed it was more dangerous than a typical nest and increased your reward to match.”

 

The independent request was a simple, hand written note with a reward listed on the bottom as well as the name of the issuer. While the Guild request had an open reward, a seal stamped above the signature of the Guild manager, and also set conditions to complete it. Similar objectives but each with their own unique satisfaction requirements and quotas.

 

“You didn’t quite provide how many Goblins were killed in your first nest last night but with enough ears in your bag, we determined that it was safe to consider the first request complete. The manager elected to simply add them to your second nest’s total. Call it the manager’s discretion and as a thank you for your efforts.” The girl pulled the papers back to her side and then stamped them both with her Guild notary mark, signifying their completion before tucking them off to the side.

 

Jake raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips, still unsatisfied with the way they chose to handle this. Now he felt like he was cheating someone else out of money or something. “I could have told you their numbers if you had let me last night. Your manager said to wait until the morning to give my report. I’m confused.”

 

The girl titled her head and placed a finger to her lips. “Oh? Did he? I’m sorry, I was rather tired last night. It was pretty late, so I can’t quite remember.”

 

Ah, so that was the angle. “I see.” Recognizing that he suddenly wouldn’t get any further in this argument, he didn’t pry any further. After a brief pause, Jake retrieved the bag off his waist. He dropped it down on the counter, yanked open the mouth of the pouch, then tipped it over. Doing so spilled the contents out onto the counter in front of him.

 

The receptionist’s eyes flew open as the money rattled in front of her. “S-Sir?!” The noise gathered quite a bit of attention.

 

Jake ignored her surprise and sorted the money. After some quick visual math, Jake separated out two-thirds of the total reward and pushed it across towards her. The remaining third he returned to the leather sack and tied the strings. “Give that to the victims when they get back. They’ll need it.” Satisfied, he tied the remaining money back to his belt.

 

The receptionist floundered, her hands waving in the air as her mouth opened and closed helplessly a few times. She even dared a look at her coworker beside her, but even the other girl wasn’t sure what to do. Jake watched her for a few seconds, then turned away to instead look at the board.

 

Though a good handful of parties had set out yesterday and took with them many papers from the request wall, there seemed to be plenty more posted up to take their place. “Is it normal for that board to be so full?”

 

As she tiredly gathered the scattered money into a separate leather pouch, the girl sighed and answered the troublesome adventurer in her charge. “Unfortunately, here on the frontier it is very normal. We don’t have enough adventurers this far south. The set of mountains to the north create a natural den for the monsters to flourish in and they spill out into the forest between us and the other towns.”

 

After she’d finished with the mess of money, the girl pulled a small regional map from a drawer. She rolled it out flat and spread it out between them. She then plucked a small feather from her hip and pointed at the map. “Goblin nests can spring up anywhere within the forest and their numbers can explode if we’re not careful. Should just three or four young women go missing, we might face a potential Goblin Raid if they aren’t found quickly.”

 

“A Goblin Raid?” Jake echoed, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the sound of that.

 

She nodded. “It’s when the Goblins grow large enough in numbers that they decide they might have a chance at taking on a settlement. It doesn’t happen very often and we mostly keep their numbers in check, but it has happened here before.” She sighed and Jake could see tension in her eyes as her fingers brushed over the map. “This very settlement was attacked eight years ago. They were able to fend the Goblins off eventually but the losses were almost too great for the settlement to sustain itself.”

 

As the girl stared at the map, Jake tapped his finger against the counter. His mind ticked over the looming threat behind those words, over the known potential for such a tragedy to repeat itself. After seeing what was happening in the nests already, he could only imagine what would happen if this place was raided. The men all killed, the women all stolen away. How much of a problem that could blossom into for other settlements in the area. It wasn’t just Goblins either.

 

It reminded him of Ewana’s situation.

 

“Does the same hold true for other monsters? Like Kobolds or Trolls?” He asked, looking at the board again. On that board, there weren’t just Goblin slaying quests. There were requests to cull the numbers of all kinds of creatures.

 

“No, actually,” the girl said. “Kobolds only raid caravans for resources and fight with adventurers for equipment. They don’t like to come near settlements and will attack only if some higher entity takes control over their pack. Trolls are afraid of the light and don’t travel very far from their caves. It’s only Goblins that we have such a troublesome time with.”

 

“Goblins, huh?” Jake mumbled, his eyes narrowing. “Any reason why it’s only Goblins?”

 

“It’s their reproduction.” She said, with a bit of a shiver. “They only reproduce by…” Her voice trembled, trailing off as her mouth closed firmly shut.

 

“Stealing,” Jake finished. “I noticed that in the nests there weren’t any Goblin women. Only males. Does that mean the other races have female variants?”

 

“Yes. Kobolds are able to reproduce within their packs. Trolls are formed from stones and if a female troll is birthed from the cave, they can reproduce as well. It is only goblins who cannot.”

 

Jake tapped his finger against the desk a few times again, humming softly to himself. “Interesting…” It reminded him of the Maedra. An asexual race that was formed from the collection of dense mana. Goblins likely were birthed within the nethers of the Overworld and set forth like a scourge, pillaging and multiplying through theft and robbery of chastity. They were a monster meant to do nothing else but bring pain and suffering to the Surface Races.

 

“Is there a particular reason that Goblins are not given more attention, then?” Jake turned to face the girl, his eyes lowering to the map. “I see here there are several other larger settlements to the north.” After a brief look, Jake verified that the information in front of him matched the information on the maps from the Library. It seemed Yir’s information was rather up to date. Good, that meant it was actually reliable. Not that he doubted it, but the validation was nice.

 

The receptionist followed his finger to where he pointed at the circles, circles denoting the other villages and towns in the region, but her feather drifted slightly off from those very marks. “Correct. Goblins and other monsters live around those locations as well. Unfortunately, Goblins are not rated very high on the scale of dangerous creatures. The Lord of this region isn’t keen on sending military personnel to deal with such a meager threat, so the Guild has seen it fit to handle them, with the Lord paying a fraction of the reward money as a compromise.”

 

So, a typical situation. The Goblins were viewed as puny, weak little runts of the frontier. A waste of time for well trained, proper soldiers and so minor a threat that the Lord didn’t want to expend resources hunting them. Even if it meant that leaving them could prove problematic in the future. Jake could understand the thought process in the broader scheme of survival and expansion here, but that also told him that the Lord and whoever was in his council lived in a very detached setting compared to the regular common folk. Goblins were a threat to these people on a daily basis. A true, living, breathing threat that could come crawling over their walls at any moment. The Guild taking up the mantle and asking for the help of adventurers was out of necessity. Otherwise, these settlements would vanish overnight.

 

“A problem with no solution…” Jake thought of the ways that he could potentially deal with the Goblin problem, but they weren’t like the Maedra. Goblins were birthed from the Overworld somehow. They were living creatures that emerged from the depths of the nearby caves and holes, spit out onto the plane of battle almost out of thin air. They had beating hearts, not mana crystals in their cores. Which meant Jake couldn’t cast the Mana Cleansing spell to keep them from reappearing. Even if he collapsed the nests and destroyed their entrances, the Goblins might just crop up somewhere else.

 

He looked at the board again, at the dozens of requests and pleas for aid. How many of  those were because of the lack of action from the resident overseer? How many of those were posted up as a last resort? How many were already too late?

 

“Too late…” Jake stopped tapping on the counter. Suddenly, another problem came to mind.

 

“Do requests expire?” Jake scanned the board, looking for faded or tattered sheets of parchment.

 

“No, Sir. As long as a reward is posted and the Requester does not ask for it to be taken down, the request remains open.” The receptionist tilted her head as she tried to see why he’d ask.

 

Jake spotted three papers that looked out of cycle from the others. Their letterings were faded. The papers had oily finger marks on their corners from where people had grabbed them, but elected not to pull them off the board. “What are your oldest requests?”

 

“One moment.” The girl stepped away from the counter. She retrieved a large book full to the brim with papers- the ledger. Stuffed from front to back with both outstanding and completed requests. She set it down and then flipped to the back, thumbing through the sheets at the far bottom of the stack. Most were stamped as completed but she found a few that seemed to either be left behind or forgotten.

 

“Our oldest is from six months ago, then three months… Another three months, two months… And then the rest are more regularly handled.” As she moved her fingers through the stack, she checked the dates each request was posted.

 

Jake nodded and turned to the woman. “Give those older ones to me.”

 

The girl perked up, meeting his gaze. Her lips parted, as if to question him, only for her mouth to seal shut when she saw the harsh stare from him. For a moment, she loitered beneath that hard gaze, her mind toiling over his potential reasons. “How many?”

 

“All of them.”

 

“Sir?” She blinked.

 

“Everything that is considered old. Anything beyond two months. Issue them out to me.” Jake pressed his fingers into the counter and gripped the wood.

 

Six months ago, that person came with the hope that someone here would help them. They pulled together a meager amount of money, likely pooled together from others they lived with, and paid the fee for the Guild to post their plea for assistance. Six months ago, that person entered this hall, trusting that someone here would become the Hero for them. Their savior. And how long did they wait? How many days did they come here, waiting for someone to pull their request from the board, only for it to never happen? Day after day. Watching their request slowly end up buried beneath the dozens of others, forgotten.

 

Jake felt his stomach twist at the thought. He glanced to his right as a party cheered, laughing together as they plucked off a monster slaying quest from the board. All of them were in high hopes of hunting down their quota and making enough money for shining new armor, new weapons, and plenty of mead for the evening. But for every request taken, another was left behind. A call left unanswered.

 

“Here you are, Sir. I have eight requests here between two to six months ago.” She set the papers in front of Jake, organized from most recent to the oldest. “Would you like to take them?” Her eyes tilted up, watching as the man grabbed the papers from the counter.

 

Two monster hunting requests- Kobolds and Goblins, but their locations were to the west, beyond the river. Two regional requests that remained unfinished.

One a request to deliver potions.

One a request to carry an injured person to the next town for medicinal care.

One to assist an old man with fixing his home.

One to escort the Apothecary into the forest as she gathered herbs.

One to find a lost object in the forest.

But the oldest was the one that caught Jake’s eye the most.

 

An escort request, with pay so meager that he wouldn’t be able to afford a meal with it. No wonder it was abandoned.

 

“Yes.” Jake set the papers down and met her eyes. “All of them.”

 

The corners of her lips curled as she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

The papers were quickly signed and the orders issued. She provided him with information on all eight requests, their points of contact, locations to meet with the issuers, and also the required equipment if they had any. For the monster requests, both were issued by the Guild so Jake was told to bring back the fangs of the Kobolds and the ears of the Goblins. For the potions, a receipt of delivery would be enough. The delivery of the injured person would be paid at the other village. A note from the old man would suffice. The Apothecary would pay at her store. An item would be given in exchange for the found object. The escort would be paid upon return.

 

She told him these requirements in detail, answered his questions, and offered him all the help the Guild had given her to provide for him. It wasn’t much. Small in comparison to the ordeal he was about to embark upon. While they were not difficult requests, per say, she knew the burden they would accumulate. She also knew his timeline. This adventurer had signed up to escort the caravan north in four days' time. Four days to complete eight tasks. Two of which would require quite the distance of traveling, likely beyond his actual destination if she remembered correctly.

 

Yet, the determination on his face was something that made her believe. Believe that he would complete them and return to her, finally completing the quests her and her coworkers had thought would never be fulfilled. Quests they had called ‘Anchors’ due to their nature of never being pulled from the wall. Some of the requesters continued to show up and check in every day, hoping someone would take up their pleas. Others had long given up. But, the rewards remained within the drawers of the guild, waiting to be claimed.

 

She watched him sign off on each of the requests, signifying his intent to execute the tasks. Then, he turned away. His ponytail swayed behind his head as he strode towards the door. Out of all the noise, she could hear those resolute footfalls the loudest.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered, lowering her eyes to the counter. She stared at his name, etched into the six month old request that sat on top of the pile. A hand touched her shoulder, causing her to jump. When she looked over at the owner of the hand, she spotted her manager smiling and staring towards the door.

 

“You see ones like him every so often, but not as often as we’d like.” He said, releasing her shoulder. He folded his hands behind him and straightened his back. “They’re not here for the money, the fame, or those words you just muttered.” The manager’s lips seemed pasted into a smile, his eyes glinting behind his glasses.

 

“Then what is he here for?” She asked, collecting the papers into a neat stack before also closing the ledger.

 

The manager shrugged. “Who knows? But I will say one thing, enjoy him while he’s here.” His eyes lowered to her. “He’ll show you what a true adventurer is.” The manager chuckled and turned away. “Blink and you’ll miss him! So make sure to watch him closely!”

 

The girl turned back to the door, watching as the figure of the Adventurer in her charge stepped through the doors. “Yes, Sir.”

 

Mere moments after the Adventurer left, the doors once more were nudged aside. Two individuals in armor pushed the entrance to the guild open wide and held them in place with their bodies, causing a brief gasp of air as a swirl of wind cycled the inside air with the outside. A fresh wind tickled the woman’s lips and the morning chill touched her bare legs, provoking a shiver. As those two held the passageway clear, a handful of others flowed in from behind.

 

She recognized them.

 

“Can we get some help, please?!” Someone shouted from the arriving crowd, her arms full of another woman covered in cloth.

 

Bodies moved in a flurry at the call, moving quickly to assist with the arriving faces. They were all battered, with hair untidy and some cut and torn. Bodies bruised, burned, cut. Some had broken bones and they would need more than just a shoulder to lean on. Yet, they were all alive. Once all of the women and party members were inside, clerics and healers moved quickly to tend to the injured. The Guild was suddenly alive with frantic activity to help those who had seen the worst side of adventuring.

 

While the scene unfolded, one of the armored individuals stepped up to the counter, a deep frown on his face. His features were grave but he was not sad. Rather, he looked tired. He reached under his armor and pulled out a chain, his adventurer identification tag. With a soft click, he set it down on the counter. An action that only meant one thing.

 

“I retire,” he announced, his frown curving into a hint of a smile.