A dryad sat alone in a booth, staring nervously at the unusual witch. She shivered as a dull pulse of cold-iron radiated out and a dark viscous magic leaked from beneath a tattered hat. Amongst the boisterous chatter of the guildhall, a pocket of tense silence bubbled around the two.

While her face remained stony, Autumn’s eyes swirled with magic.

Yet, before anything could erupt between the two, a deep masculine voice boomed from Autumn’s right.

“No fighting in the guildhall.”

Flinching, Autumn turned towards it.

A broad, muscular, and masculine chest was the first thing Autumn saw. Looking up, a bovine face met her: a minotaur. Huge wicked horns curved outwards from a bull’s head. Across his back, a heavy wooden tower shield rested. It was almost the same size as himself.

Autumn also caught that Nethlia had noticed her halting and looked ready to throw hands at the Minotaur. While the minotaur outsized and outweighed Nethlia by a considerable margin, Autumn got the feeling she wouldn’t lose out.

Taking a breath to calm herself, Autumn addressed the minotaur.

“No trouble from me.”

Turning to the young dryad, Autumn mustered the courage to apologize. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” the dryad whispered.

With a pulsing in her ears, Autumn caught up with Nethlia. The demoness still glared at the minotaur as they left.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I was just surprised, you know. I wasn’t expecting any fae-folk.”

Autumn’s breath shuddered.

A look of realization dawned upon Nethlia’s face as she glanced back to the now hidden dryad. She bit her lip in contemplation, mulling over what to say. With a soft voice, as if addressing a spooked kitten, she spoke.

“Dryads aren’t fae. Well, they are, but like descendants, far removed descendants. Not every child bears the sins of their fathers. Inferni are similar; we’re distantly separated from the devils that chained us.”

Autumn scowled.

“I know, I know. I’m not ignorant, or at least I hope I’m not. It’s just after the goblins and everything.”

Autumn shrugged helplessly.

The lessons Earth’s people had learned were hard to forget or ignore. Oh, how much easier it’d be to just hate, but she wanted to be better than that. The world wasn’t just good and evil or black and white.

“Come on, time’s ticking,” Nethlia said.

Finally, after so many distractions, the pair made it to the reception of the guild. An annex building attached to the main hall housed the staff area. In the front, five small desks stood spaced apart. It reminded Autumn of the few times she had gone to the bank.

Receptionists swiftly dealt with the small lines of adventurers seeking employment or missions. So it didn’t take long air to make it to the front of their cue.

“Next please.”

Standing upon a set of small stairs was a female receptionist who, if standing beside Autumn, would have only come up to her waist. The halfling was wearing a guild uniform that looked a cross between a business suit and a mountaineering outfit. Over a white tailored shirt and leather pants, she had a harness-styled belt that held everything from a sharp combat knife to scrolls, quills, and inkwells.

A set of reading glasses sat upon a cute button nose which she fiddled with as she had to stare up at Nethlia, even with her step stool.

“OH, hello, hello. Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild. My name is Zenmia Stoutbottle of the Northern Stoutbottles and I’ll be your receptionist today. This line is for new applications and reissuing of former IDs.”

Zenmia smiled up at them.

Nethlia stepped forward nervously with her old ID already outstretched.

“One new applicant and one returning. Thank you.”

Zenmia blinked, bemused by Nethlia’s nerves. Despite being an old hand, the towering demoness didn’t seem used to the administrative situation she had found herself in.

“Please place your old ID on the desk. Thank you.”

Nethlia quickly put down a slim card made up of some sort of odd metal. They’d magically engraved it with the information and a likeness of its holder. Autumn didn’t get a good look at it from her position as the receptionist took it and placed it upon an arcane-looking device.

“I’m also looking to sponsor the new application if my guild credits are still valid.”

“Alright, just let me check your ID.”

At that moment, there was a jiggling chime from the device. As the Halfling read through a series of glowing words, her eyebrows crept up higher and higher. Eventually, when she turned back to Nethlia, her eyes shone with admiration and awe.

“The Guild is more than happy to welcome you back, Omen Hammer. Your ID has been reissued and we’ll, of course, accept your sponsorship.”

“Excuse me, what exactly does sponsorship entail?” Autumn asked.

Zenmia turned to Autumn curiously before explaining.

“Sponsorship means that a more experienced adventurer vouches for your talents. This means that you can skip the trial rank and enter straight into copper. The ranks, if you are unaware, are: copper, silver, gold, and finally platinum.”

Zenmia smiled.

“Now if you could please write your name and relevant details, I’ll be able to register you as a copper-rank adventurer.”

She presented a parchment and quill to Autumn.

“If you can’t write, I’ll be more than happy to write it for you.”

“That’s fine. I can write. Um, do I need to put a full name?”

“I’d recommended it, but it’s not mandatory. A first name would be fine. The only mandatory thing is your class or role. For example fighter, mage, rogue, etc. This is so we can know what sort of people we might pair you with, as well as allowing the guild to know what assets it’s working with.”

Autumn nodded before taking the quill and scratched in her details. Before she got further than her first name, she heard a cough from Zenmia. Peering up, she saw the halfling looked a little embarrassed.

“Umm, can you write in Infernal or Common, please?”

Looking down, Autumn realized she had written unconsciously in English.

“Sorry.”

With a flick of her will, she felt her mind shifting. When she next put the ink to parchment, her hands flowed unfamiliarly despite just writing the same as before. Autumn only filled in her basic details. Autumn for her name and witch (mage) for class/role.

At this stage, Autumn had no idea how long a year was in this world. If she wrote seventeen, who knows how young or old that was? For all she knew, a year here might be a hundred on Earth, or vice versa.

“All right Miss Autumn, here’s your ID. Just a few rules to go over. They’re rather basic, no killing or stealing from your fellow guild members. Try not to put the Guild in a negative light, etc. You are required to complete a set number of missions per month based on your rank or missions will be allocated to you.”

“Also, you can use Guild credits to book meeting rooms, hire mentors, or use other guild facilities. I think that’s it. If you have questions, feel free to come by and ask.”

Autumn held her ID in her hands. It was rather spare in details, but a rather gloomy image of herself that had been taken without her knowledge took half of the space up. It mortified her to see how much of a mess she looked right now.

With nothing else to ask, the pair bid farewell to Zenmia and stepped out of the line. Huddled to the side, Autumn took stock of her tasks.

“What now?”

“Well, we’ll need new clothes and armor before we try to hire anyone else. Nobody will want to join our party if we don’t look like we can handle ourselves.”

Autumn nodded in agreement.

“How good are you at bartering?”

Nethlia’s grimace was enough of an answer.

“Saphielle is the one we want. She’s always shopping for one thing or another. When I was last here, she was practically in charge of the house’s shopping.”

“So back to the Blooms?” Autumn asked.

Nethlia nodded.

As they worked their way out into the colder air of the outdoors, Autumn spoke up once more.

“Omen Hammer? Really?”

Nethlia’s ruby cheeks darkened further.

“I didn’t pick it! The Guild loves naming members strange names and they catch on!”

Under Autumn’s disbelieving stare, the two made it back to the House of Blooms and sought the bubbly elf.

“Aw, you came to see me so soon!” Saphielle cheered.

Nethlia smiled at her.

“We need your expertise if you’re free.”

“Gasp, usually I’d charge a lot for two, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Nethlia sighed.

“I meant with shopping.”

Saphielle giggled at Autumn’s flustered face.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing. Come to my room Autumn. I need to get dressed, can’t go shopping in my knickers. Well, I could, but then I’d have to outrun the guards, haha.”

Autumn was half dragged into the elf’s room. Behind them, they slammed the door in Nethlia’s face.

“You stay out there! I haven’t tidied up!”

Shaphielle had packed the bedroom full of clothing: dresses, robes, casual clothing, and shoes. Oh, so many shoes. However, it wasn’t messy as such, everything in there was neatly organized, it was just that there wasn’t much room left.

Saphielle looked a little embarrassed as she picked her way through a rack of clothes.

“I mighttttt have a shopping addiction. But! I’m also the best around at finding deals. Nobody can beat me.”

Saphielle puffed out her chest.

Autumn awkwardly looked around as the elf picked out her outfit.

“Umm, have you known Net long?” Autumn asked as casually as she could.

“Oh? Is someone afraid I’ll steal their girlfriend?” Saphielle teased.

“We’re not… I’m…It’s not like that!”

Autumn’s cheeks burned under the attention of Saphielle’s giggles.

“I’m just teasing, just teasing. Anyway, I’m not interested in sex anyhow.”

Autumn blinked, confused, as Saphielle threw a dress to the side.

“But you work in a brothel?”

“Bordello.” Saphielle corrected, “I like people. I enjoy talking with those who come to me, hearing their stories and woes. I enjoy art and here I can paint or be painted on and nobody cares.”

Saphielle turned to Autumn.

“I’d like you to draw me sometime once you’re done with Lia’s, of course.”

A flash of inspiration lit up Autumn’s mind. Her magic took on the width and breadth of color, likely influenced by her artistic leanings. What if she could paint that canvas of the soul that only she could see?

How vibrant would it be?

That pure reflection of the raw, unfiltered soul.

It was something to think about.

“Alright, let’s go!”

Saphielle’s shout pulled Autumn from her musings. The lively elf had ultimately found an outfit she liked, a flowy dress and tights with a thick fur-lined coat overtop to drive away the chill.

Exiting the bedroom, the pair reconvened with a bored-looking Nethlia.

“Before we head off, we need to go over your budgets,” Saphielle said.

Autumn pulled her small coin pouch from her inner robe pocket to check her total.

“2 gold, 12 silver, and 32 copper.”

The coins jingled musically as Autumn bounced the pouch. That gnome fella had almost doubled her reserves just for not calling him out. Two gold pieces looked much better than a lonely one.

“But I still have some random jars and ingredients to sell.”

“Right, so we’ll head on over to Alchemist’s Row first. I know a great place to get some good prices.”

Saphielle smiled evilly as she rubbed her palms together.

Nethlia shook her coin pouch lightly.

“I have 13 gold, 23 silver, and 43 copper.”

The much larger and filled bag gave Autumn a touch of envy, but Saphielle didn’t seem that impressed. She seemed almost confused.

“What? Weren’t you a bigshot adventurer for ten years? I know the madam would have paid you better than that to start with.”

Autumn had no idea about Adventurer’s income and expenditure, but Nethlia seemed a little embarrassed and shy.

“I, umm, invested it into some local businesses. I have more money. It’s just tied up right now.”

Saphielle was taken aback. For a moment, she stared at the evasive demoness as she ran through her memories.

“Wait a minute! Roughly around the time you left, we got a bunch of new stuff! New beds, kitchenware, and they redid the bathroom! Was that because of you?!”

Saphielle exclaimed as she circled the demoness like a hungry shark chasing some juicy gossip.

“Maybe?” Nethlia said, confused.

At her almost confirmation, Saphielle squealed and latched onto Nethlia like a limpet.