Authors Note:

READ AHEAD: Chapter 6 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd

Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD 

  – –

Groom Lake, Nevada

Area 51

November 17, 2024

 

As dawn cast a pale light over the Nevada desert, Henry’s morning routine was abruptly interrupted. The familiar buzz from his communicator cut his breakfast short – his briefing was in 5 minutes. He tapped the device clipped to his belt, acknowledging the summons as he finished up the remnants of his French toast.

 

He strode toward the situation room, taking in the changes that had taken place over the past week. Where once there had been the quiet hum of scientific exploration and data collection, there was now the rumble of construction and transportation. The pathway leading to the shimmering portal, previously traveled by scientists and a trickle of military personnel, had expanded into distinct incoming and outgoing lanes complemented by traffic lights.

To the side of the hangar, massive construction vehicles queued, awaiting their turn to pass through the gateway. A paving machine, its form a silhouette against the portal’s glow, inched forward until it was swallowed by the iridescent threshold. One by one, they disappeared into the portal, each carrying their part of the American initiative to Gaerra.

 

A team of technicians surrounded the incoming lane, clearing it out and sounding a buzzer to mark the lane’s temporary transition to a second outgoing lane. Henry caught sight of a pair of Apaches approaching the lane. Secured on large flatbeds, the helicopters would soon find their new home at Armstrong Base.

 

As Henry picked his way between the stacks of cargo and clusters of personnel, Ron caught up to him with a less-than-enthusiastic shuffle. “Morning wake-up calls just keep getting earlier. What’s the bet this is another ‘strategic urgency’ spiel?” he yawned, the dim hangar lighting casting a tired shadow over his face.

 

Henry offered a wry smile. He knew exactly what could get the man excited, pause. “Well, if they’re pushing us to gear up for Gaerra, I’m all for sacrificing sleep. Beats staring at the sagebrush art around here,” he quipped.

 

Ron snorted, his stride upright with new life. “Shiiit, I’d trade in my figurines to get back there. Beats the hell outta this metal maze.”

 

They approached a staircase beside the gateway, walking up to the control room. “Bruh, you just want a front-row seat to see if Kelmithus was speaking facts about elves,” Henry teased, elbowing Ron lightly.

 

Ron flashed a conspiratorial grin, “Hey, a little recon on local… wildlife never hurt. Nah but for real though, you think we’re rolling out soon?”

 

Henry paused at the top of the stairway and considered the flurry of activity around them. “Hard to say, but with all this,” he gestured at the preparations around them, “plus the talks coming up, I’d say we’re not just here to play war games.”

 

He continued walking, boots thudding against the metal grating as he and Ron approached the control room. Inside the glass-paneled room, Director Lombard and Dr. Lamarr were engrossed in their work. Snippets of their conversation about the Gaerran gateway and something about an analysis of Kelmithus’ magic flowed out of the open doorway. They must’ve enjoyed Kelmithus’ lectures on magic far more than he did.

 

They moved past the control room, stepping into the quieter corridor that led to the situation room. Reaching the door, Henry pushed it open and stepped inside, ready to pivot from the ‘what-ifs’ to the ‘what-nows’. Scanning the room, Henry saw familiar faces: Hayes having a conversation with Ambassador Perry, Yen on his laptop, and Dr. Anderson on a tablet reading a PDF scan of a book from the guest mansion’s library.

 

They all looked up at Henry’s and Ron’s entrance, sending acknowledging nods their way. As Henry took a seat with Ron, he glanced at Ambassador Perry, then back to the others. Another diplomatic security mission? Henry’s gaze drifted momentarily to the window, watching as the technicians restored the incoming lane. He turned his attention back to the room just as the door swung open again, revealing General Harding.

 

The chatter subsided instantly, Henry and the other operatives saluting him.

 

“At ease,” Harding said, holding up a hand. 

 

As everyone returned to their seats, he began, “Today, we’re adapting to a new operational landscape. The events at Eldralore have expedited the need for a specialized unit. This will be a first for us – a hybrid team with a very specific mandate.”

 

Henry leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers interlaced. It looked like this might be something more exciting than just a diplomatic security mission.

 

“Captain Donnager, Lieutenant Owens, Mister Hayes, Mister Yen, and Doctor Anderson. You’ve been selected based on your service records, your skills, and your recent experiences on Gaerra. You will comprise a new unit, designated as Alpha Team.” Harding then turned to face Henry. “Captain Donnager, you’ll command Alpha Team. Your actions in Eldralore showed initiative and adaptability – traits we need for what lies ahead.”

 

Henry accepted the appointment with a nod. 

 

“Alpha Team will be embedded into local societies, operating with self-sufficiency and within a few hundred miles of Armstrong Base. Your diverse skill sets should cover everything you may need, with Doctor Anderson additionally overseeing interpretation and relations.”

 

Harding took a moment to survey the room, ensuring he had everyone’s attention before he delved deeper into their mission parameters. “Alpha Team’s primary objective is intelligence – hard intel on Gaerra’s political factions, military capabilities, the capabilities of magic and local fauna, and any other players on the board. Establishing relations will be just as crucial. The more rapport you can build, the more we can know about – and the better we can defend against – possible threats.”

 

He paused. “Your secondary objective is to safeguard U.S. interests in the region. Armstrong Base is our foothold in Gaerra, and we need to be ready to act against any threats that may arise. To that end, your immediate assignment is to integrate yourselves within the fabric of Eldralore.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, continuing, “Alpha Team will head to the Adventurer’s Guild there. You’re to register as adventurers. This guise will provide you with the necessary cover to operate freely and gather intelligence on the ground. This approach is unconventional, but it will grant you access to resources, information, and contacts that would otherwise be out of reach. The quests will give you a means of obtaining funds to sustain yourselves, as well as materials and artifacts that you will be sending back to Armstrong for analysis.”

Henry glanced at Ron. Here it was, the ‘adventure’ Ron always spoke of, and the man was damn near unable to contain his glee. Even Isaac seemed to be excited. Honestly, he was actually looking forward to seeing what Ron was so excited about. His eyes moved back to the General as he continued.

 

“It is imperative that you blend in, learn the lay of the land, and establish a network within the Adventurer community. According to Sir ad Helis, the various Guilds are all international entities – all with vast information networks. How you navigate these initial steps will set the stage for all our subsequent operations.”

 

Perry stood up then. He distributed a packet to each member – mission dossiers – filled with the current intel and preliminary assessments.

 

Harding gave a nod of approval. “Those packets have also been uploaded to your tablets and contain everything we know so far – and highlight what we need to find out. Study them. Know them. They will be the foundation of your strategy.”

 

Henry flipped open his dossier, his eyes quickly scanning the contents. The maps were expanded from a basic view of the base’s immediate surroundings to a complex analysis encompassing the entirety of the Grenden Plains. Shaded areas denoted territorial claims while stars marked settlements within a hundred miles of the base. Sketches and scanned paintings of various fauna stared back at him, accompanied by detailed profiles authored by Kelmithus and other Sonaran liaisons. 

 

As he absorbed the information, Harding continued, “The prisoner’s cooperation has been… enlightening, though not without its challenges. Corroborating his intel is difficult given our limited presence on Gaerra, but we’ve verified enough to act upon thanks to our enhanced interrogation of the captured bandits and details from the Sonarans. 

 

Henry’s focus sharpened as Harding laid out the verifiable basics. “The Nobian Empire is on high alert. They’re probing into our sudden appearance on the Grenden Plains and our intentions. Their first contact was aggressive – it’s a clear indication that they’re not just curious. They may perceive any alliance we form as a direct challenge to their dominance in the region.”

 

Henry leaned back, taking a breath. He recalled the prejudicial view that the Sonarans in Eldralore had on the supposedly war-mongering and devious Nobian Empire. Perhaps they weren’t prejudiced at all. 

 

Harding turned, giving the floor to Ambassador Perry. “The prisoner’s insights give us a unique diplomatic advantage. We must be cautious, strategic, when it comes to who we talk to and how we affect the local societies. Ideally, we refrain from letting the Nobians think we’re upsetting the geopolitical status quo. It’s inevitable you will run into Nobians – scouts, merchants, or plain travelers. Our interactions with them will set the tone for future engagements. It’s imperative we do not close any doors – diplomatic channels must remain open, even if they seem unresponsive to our overtures.”

 

Perry’s eyes met Henry’s. “Alpha Team will be our eyes and ears on the ground. How you engage with the Nobians, should the need arise, will either build bridges or burn them. After the ambush and the incident in Eldralore, it may seem like the bridge has already been burned, but there remains the possibility that those actions were not sanctioned by the official Nobian government. Until we can find out more, remember that your actions not only reflect our military might but the diplomatic intentions of the United States.”

 

As Ambassador Perry concluded his guidance, General Harding stood once more. “No questions?”

 

Upon seeing the shaking of heads, he continued, “Excellent. You’ve got your orders. Gear up, study your dossiers, and be ready to move out within the hour. Dismissed.”

 

Henry and the rest of Alpha Team made their way to the exit. As the situation room door closed with a soft click, Harding’s sigh barely filled the silence. “Less than an hour ‘til Duke Vancor’s supposed to arrive,” he mused.

 

Perry didn’t look up as he stacked his briefing materials. “Nervous?” he asked, the question coming off as more of an observation than an inquiry.

 

Harding shrugged. “Lord knows. I always wondered how it would be if the Manifest Project ever succeeded.”

 

“And here we are,” Perry said, finishing Harding’s thoughts.

 

Harding waited for Perry at the door as he finished gathering papers into a binder. “Yup. Feels different, now that we’re actually here.”

 

Stepping out of the situation room, they began walking down the stairs toward the gateway. “There’s a certain clarity in moments like these,” Perry offered. “The future is ours to shape. It’s a heavy mantle, but we carry it well.”

 

“Clarity, sure,” Harding grunted. “But it’s the unpredictable elements that keep me alert.”

 

They walked alongside trundling vehicles on a smaller path within the outgoing lane reserved exclusively for foot traffic. Stepping through into Armstrong Base, they were greeted by the lush greenery of the Grenden Plains and a pleasant early sunrise. Feeling the cool, crisp breeze, they paused to admire the scene.

Perry’s voice broke the brief reverie. “And that’s precisely what we need, General. Director Lombard, myself, and many others – we’ve all got a childlike optimism for this. You’re our anchor.”

General Harding watched the landscape of Armstrong Base. It thrummed with the bustle of machinery, straddling the line between old certainties and new horizons. New structures had sprung up over the past week – barracks, warehouses, garages, hangars, and the foundations for heavier infrastructure like radar. HESCO blocks and concrete T-walls created a perimeter around the base. To the right of the gateway, the skeleton of a future runway stretched out like the promise of tomorrow.

 

He wondered how Duke Vancor would react to all this, then shook off the thought; that was Ambassador Perry’s job. “I suppose so, Ambassador. I suppose so.” He checked his watch. “We should move to the rendezvous point. The Sonaran delegation will be here in less than fifteen minutes.”

 

Ambassador Perry stretched his arm out. “After you, General.”

 

They made their way toward the gateway’s security checkpoint. Harding looked around the area, noting the positions of his men. They didn’t have a red carpet, but they were certainly ready to receive the Sonarans. As they approached, he gave a subtle nod to a technician near the gateway.

 

“Commence Gateway Hold,” the technician broadcasted. “Secure all ingress and egress at the gateway.”

 

“Roger, Gateway Hold is in effect,” confirmed a watch officer from the nearby control booth. The familiar hustle around the portal ceased with immediate effect, traffic being redirected to make way for the delegation.

 

Harding tracked the road that snaked towards Armstrong Base. The morning air was clear, save for the distant dust cloud stirred up by the approaching Sonaran delegation. Next to him, Ambassador Perry adjusted his binder, eyes lifting occasionally to the horizon. They both watched as the Sonaran procession appeared over the rise, the dradaks and carriages emerging into view and escorted by a subtle vanguard of UGVs.

 

The beat of hooves and the rumble of engines grew steadily louder, the American escorts maintaining a respectful distance. The procession approached, the dradak’s reptilian neighs adding a unique undertone to the morning calm. As the delegates reached the staging area, the UGVs peeled off, their task complete. 

The Sonaran convoy halted in front of them, guards and diplomatic staff dismounting from carriages while dradak-mounted and horse-mounted knights stood watch. Duke Vancor descended from his carriage, the morning light catching on the polished silvery metal of his breastplate. He swept aside his cloak, revealing intricate, flowery filigrees decorating his armor. The Duke’s gaze swept the area – a calculated, lingering survey that took in the armed guards, the nascent alien structures of Armstrong Base, and the mysterious mechanical constructs that hammered the earth in the background.

Perry approached him. “Your Grace, Duke Vancor ad Styne, I am Ambassador John Perry, representing the United States of America,” he said, extending his hand. “We are honored by your historic visit and look forward to embarking on this journey of mutual understanding together.”

 

Duke Vancor studied the ambassador for a moment, eyes darting from his suit’s lapels to the blue tie and the American flag pin before finally meeting his eyes. He shook his hand, responding with a slight, acknowledging smile. “Ambassador Perry, I extend to you the greetings of Sonara. Your amicable welcome is received in the spirit it is given. I am eager to partake in dialogue that shall illuminate the path for both our civilizations.”

 

General Harding then stepped forward. “And I am General Alexander Harding, the commanding officer of this installation. My role here is to ensure the security of these talks and to address any military concerns that may arise during our discussions.”

 

The Duke’s response was equally direct, a nod to the simplicity of military candor. “General,” he said, shaking his hand, “your charge is well received and respected. The sanctity and security of these proceedings are of equal import to us. We, too, wish for a discourse that will proceed unhindered and yield fortuitous outcomes for all.”

 

Following the initial introductions, Perry gestured towards the looming portal. “Your Grace, if you would accompany us, we have prepared a place for more comfortable discussions at our facility.”

 

Duke Vancor, casting a final glance back at his retinue, signaled his readiness. “Lead on, Ambassador.”

 

As they drew nearer, the subtle buzz of the portal’s energy filled the air. Perry, walking beside the Duke, offered a courteous smile. “I must express our gratitude for the hospitality your steward Rolan extended at the guest mansion. It’s a rare comfort to find such welcoming grace in foreign lands.”

 

“A courtesy due to esteemed guests,” Vancor replied, subtly lowering his head. “I only regret that the peace of your stay was marred by those Nobian curs. Measures have been taken to fortify our hospitality against further intrusion.”

 

They stood before the portal, its surface a swirling dance of light and shadow. Duke Vancor hesitated, eyeing the phenomenon.

Perry offered a reassuring smile. “It’s quite the experience, Your Grace. You may feel a slight frosty chill and a bit of nausea as we pass through, but it’s a brief sensation.”

 

Harding could sense the man’s resolve as he faced the unknown. If he felt trepidation, he hid it well. The Duke drew a breath, steeling himself. “A chill, you say? A small discomfort for the promise of progress,” he said and stepped forward, his posture resolute as he disappeared into the portal’s embrace.

 

Harding followed after Perry, navigating the disorienting kaleidoscope of folding space-time with familiarity. Stepping off the gateway platform, Duke Vancor’s composure was briefly undone by the experience and the sight that greeted them. The vastness of the facility opened up around them, a cavernous space bustling with activity. Barriers and security personnel formed a clear path, while off to the sides, scientific equipment blinked and hummed. Beyond, the shapes of construction vehicles and stacked materials stood idle, waiting for the Gateway Hold protocol to be lifted.

 

“A remarkable… establishment,” the Duke muttered, his eyes tracing the orderly lines of cargo awaiting transport to Armstrong Base.

 

Harding noted the Duke’s reaction. “It’s a constant effort. With the threat of dangerous fauna and now the Nobians, we’ve had to expand security further.”

 

As they walked, the Sonarans’ were softly exclaiming and pointing to things like tourists. “These contraptions,” one of the aides murmured, “they are unlike anything in our forges.”

 

Ambassador Perry glanced back with a practiced smile. “The fruits of innovation and necessity. We’ll discuss more as we proceed.”

 

Harding and Perry led them through the facility, making their way to the briefing room upstairs. The Sonarans moved tightly together, eyes stuck on the nearby security personnel and their strange staves. The efforts of Director Lombard and Dr. Lamarr in the control room were viewed with much confusion as the Sonarans struggled to wrap their heads around the displays present. As they entered the briefing room, they exchanged pleasantries with some of the Ambassador’s aides. Perry gestured to the seating. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

 

Duke Vancor took a seat, the rest of his delegation following suit. His eyes briefly closed before reopening. Reflection? Adjustment? Harding wondered what it could be.

 

“General, Ambassador,” the Duke began, “I am prepared for the proceedings to begin.”

 

Perry took the lead. “Very well, Your Grace. Let us then address the immediate concerns that have precipitated these talks.”

 

Harding observed the assembly in silence as the discussion unfolded. The Duke seemed to shift his body slightly at those words. They were starting off strong, and there was no doubt the Duke had prepared for this. Though, was there anything the Duke could do to get ahead after such an embarrassment to Sonaran security?

 

Perry continued, “First – the incident involving the bandit ambush, confirmed as a Nobian act, as well as the Nobian intrusion that compromised the guest mansion’s security and forced an evacuation. These unfortunate incidents that have precipitated this meeting are symptomatic of larger threats that could be preemptively addressed through our collaboration.” 

 

Duke Vancor remained silent and composed, yet his attempt at masking his expressions was betrayed by a furrow of his brow. “Indeed, those incidents are regrettable. I am listening, Ambassador.”

 

“We would like to propose an arrangement where the Sonaran Federation and the United States cooperate to better prepare ourselves against further incursions,” Perry suggested. “In the spirit of mutual benefit, we would value an open exchange of information. Your insights into the regional dynamics, and particularly, the role of magic, would greatly enhance our understanding and operational readiness on Gaerra – and in doing so, minimize security breaches.”

 

“An exchange of information for the boon of security,” he mused. “This is a matter I shall bring before our High Council. Your… aerial scouts,” he said, glancing at a finely detailed printed map of the Grenden Plains, “would present a compelling argument for the merits of such an exchange.”

 

Harding raised an eyebrow. The Duke was astute. He heard of the existence of Sonaran aerial assets like griffin or wyvern knights, but they couldn’t hope to match the precision of their machines. He could see it in the Duke’s eyes; this was the perfect tool for the ruler of a fortress city at the edge of Sonaran territory.

 

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Harding interjected with a nod. “The more information we know, the more we can mutually benefit from this exchange.”

 

Vancor’s posture relaxed marginally, the stiffness of his figure easing away. “This is a proposal of significant weight. It is a matter that demands careful deliberation, yet the virtues it may yield beckon our attention. Let us proceed with outlining what this cooperation might entail, with the understanding that any agreement will be subject to the approval of our High Council.”

 

Harding allowed a pause to settle before outlining the terms that his and Perry’s superiors worked on. “The United States is prepared to provide the Sonaran Federation with advanced aerial surveillance. This includes real-time feeds and detailed mapping of potential threats, particularly along your borders,” he said, gesturing to a screen with a drone feed to highlight his point. “This surveillance will be conducted around Armstrong Base, focusing on the neutral territory of the Grenden Plains. We’ll inform you of any sign of hostile activity from fauna or the Nobians.”

 

Duke Vancor listened intently. “What do you seek in return for this surveillance?

 

Perry answered, “In return, we would seek access to your repositories of knowledge – libraries, institutions, and the like – particularly those pertaining to magic. Our interest lies in understanding its principles, both for its cultural significance and potential practical applications.”

 

Harding watched the Duke closely, gauging his reaction. The Duke steepled his fingers, putting on a convincing poker face. “Your request is substantial, for our repositories of arcane knowledge are the sanctuaries of our history and wisdom. Nevertheless, the lure of safeguarding our realms with such foresight cannot be easily dismissed. I shall lay this matter before our High Council.”

 

Perry pulled out some papers from his binder. “Of course, Your Grace. We can provide a detailed written proposal for you to take to them.”

 

“Very well,” Vancor agreed, accepting the papers. “I shall review these preliminary terms with my advisors later. If all is well, I shall ensure they are given due consideration by the High Council.”

 

One deal hopefully down, another to go. Harding watched as Perry transitioned to the next topic on their agenda. “Moving on to the subjects of culture and economy, I was informed about the existence of Guilds. How do they work?”

 

——

Eldralore, Sonaran Federation

November 17, 2024

 

“Guilds stand as the pillars of our society, orchestrating the harmonious blend of skills, knowledge, and commerce,” Kelmithus explained. “Each Guild, sovereign within its sphere, upholds standards, nurtures talents, and contributes to the common weal.”

 

Henry leaned against a nearby column as Kelmithus talked. The plaza around them felt as busy as Times Square, but with fantastical diversity. A trio of adventurers passed them, hauling bloodied leather bags – no doubt confirmation of whatever mission they just completed – as they walked inside to claim their rewards. They walked by a line directly in front of the guild’s entrance, which consisted of young, eager-looking recruits. Many looked his age or younger, with some looking like they would have barely been in high school.

 

The building itself towered above the plaza but was no taller or shorter than the other guild branches around them. They encompassed broad professions, from the Artisans Guild to the Magic and Commerce Guilds. Banners in myriad colors representing various factions within the guilds fluttered in the breeze alongside starry Sonaran flags and flags of House ad Styne. At the center of the plaza stood the statue of a woman – the goddess Sola. 

 

Ron gave a short whistle, a smile conveying his excitement as clear as day. “So this is the place you were talking about last week.”

 

“Indeed. Of these Guilds, the Adventurers Guild, where we now find ourselves, is of particular import,” Kelmithus continued.

 

“I recall the file on the guilds,” Yen said. “Structured systems for what would otherwise be freelancers?”

 

“Indeed so, Mister Yen,” Kelmithus replied. “The Adventurers Guild provides structure, resources, and a code of conduct. These tenets ensure that the endeavors of our Adventurers are well-directed and harmonious with the greater good.”

 

Dr. Anderson seemed almost as excited as Ron but for a different reason. “It’s truly fascinating how these guilds and their branches are able to collaborate over such vast distances. The level of bureaucracy and organization involved – it’s quite advanced for this era.”

 

“I daresay, Dr. Anderson, your scholarly inclinations would find the intricacies of the Guild Council’s workings quite enthralling,” Kelmithus teased the man. 

 

Dr. Anderson sighed. “Checking out their headquarters in the Arthi continent would be a dream. I just hope I get the chance to visit the local headquarters in Sonara.”

 

Henry looked as another group of adventurers entered the building. “So, what exactly should we expect for our registration?”

 

“Come, let us venture forth to procure the necessary forms. I shall explain the registration process along the way,” Kelmithus declared, gesturing toward the guild entrance with a flourish of his hand.

As Kelmithus and Alpha Team entered the Adventurers Guild, a hush fell over the nearby adventurers. Pointed fingers, surprised gasps, giddy fangirls? Henry didn’t expect it, but it turns out Kelmithus was famous. Walking up to the counter, he leaned against it and observed the mixed reactions around them.

 

The young clerk at the registration desk looked up, her eyes widening slightly. “Master Kelmithus, what an honor to have ye here!”

 

The archmage gestured toward Alpha Team. “My companions seek to join as adventurers. I vouch for them and stand as their patron.”

 

The clerk quickly gathered several forms, sliding them across the counter along with a set of quills. “For the registration, kindly mark down your names, where ye come from, what skills or experiences ye bring, and the like. Right here,” she gestured towards the bottom of the form, “ye’ll need to promise to uphold the Guild’s ways and rules.”

 

Henry picked up a quill, eyes scanning the parchment registration form. It was comprehensive, divided into several sections with each requiring thoughtful responses. The first was straightforward, asking for basic personal information: name, place of origin, age, education. He quickly jotted down, “Henry Donnager, United States, 24, US Space Force Academy.”

 

Next came a section on combat training and magical knowledge. He checked off his proficiency in hand-to-hand combat, but there was no box for firearms or marksmanship. Archery would have to do. Beside him, Ron did the same, though he paused at the section on magic. “Well, I’ve seen magic, does that count?” he joked quietly.

 

Henry smiled. “Put down ‘observer’, that should cover it.”

 

The form then delved into past adventuring experiences. Henry glanced at his colleagues. Their time in Gaerra was their first real ‘adventure’ in a traditional sense, but their military background was filled with experiences that felt relevant. He decided to summarize it as “Extensive military operations in varied environments”, including their success against the bandit ambush and the capture of a Nobian intruder as examples.

 

The next section was about preferred roles. A list of options was given: archer/ranged, frontline/melee, support/healer, and others. He circled ‘archer/ranged’, but was stumped with what to put in the description underneath. If Kelmithus was familiar with Dwarven arquebuses, then surely the Adventurers Guild would also be familiar with the concept of firearms? Eh, hopefully it won’t be an issue. Filling out the section, he moved on to the next.

 

“Quest Preferences” was the most intriguing part. The form listed various types of quests – from monster hunting to diplomatic missions, rescue operations, and even more mundane tasks like herb gathering or escort services. Ron looked over. “Do we select all?”

 

Henry thought about it. “Might as well. We’re here to gather intel, and even an herb-gathering mission could result in some good material for Dr. Perdue.”

 

The final section was a declaration section, a solemn vow to uphold the Guild’s code of conduct and adhere to several articles on adventuring ethics, international amity, and client confidentiality – all written in a simplified, proto-legalese. Henry looked to his right. As expected, seeing such a document put an excited smile on Dr. Anderson’s face.

 

The document concluded with a formal attestation: “In setting my signature hereunto, I, Henry Donnager, do hereby bind myself to these tenets and duties, fully cognizant of the weight they carry and the ramifications of their neglect…”

After reading the articles, Henry signed his name at the bottom and submitted the form. The clerk nodded approvingly as she collected the papers. “Well then, your registration is nearly done. Now, ye’ll be going through trials to see where ye stand in the ranks and what sort of quests ye’ll be fit for.”

 

Henry exchanged a look with his team. “Tests, huh? Sounds like we’re back at the academy. Let’s see what they’ve got for us.”

 

The clerk gave a friendly smile, gesturing towards a large doorway behind the counter. “Ye’ll be going through that door there and begin with the written tests. Best of fortune to ye, and welcome to the Adventurers Guild!”

 

“The trials you face hence are not merely assessments of skill but gateways to deeper understanding and greater feats. Duty calls me to confer with Captain Orlen regarding our recent tribulations, so I shall return later, after you have obtained your Adventurer Cards. As you may say, good luck.”

 

Henry led his colleagues through the large door, which opened into a hallway lined with banners depicting various beasts and heraldic symbols. A sign was placed next to the first door on their right – that’s where they would be taking the written tests. Entering the room, they were met with rows of desks and a handful of budding adventurers who were already seated.

Some of the adventurers were clearly new, teenagers fidgeting with their quills as they waited for the proctor to arrive. Others were already a few months into their journey, hoping a good score would bump them up from Tier 4 to Tier 5 and trepidation for the advanced tests past Tier 5. Their conversations fell silent as they took in the arrival of Alpha Team.

As Henry’s team found their seats, a young elven woman at a nearby desk glanced over. Dressed in a green cloak and flexible armor that seemed to have both a silvery and golden sheen, the woman brushed her light blonde – almost silvery – hair aside as she looked Henry up and down. “You certainly stand out,” she remarked. “I’m Seraphine ad Sindis, Tier 7. And who might you be?”

 

Henry found himself mesmerized by the woman’s purple eyes – a biological anomaly that turned out to be rather alluring. He extended his hand, “Captain Henry Donnager. We’re… not from around here.

 

Seraphine looked at Henry’s outstretched hand, waiting as if to intentionally make Henry uncomfortable and awkward before accepting it. “Oh? That had escaped my notice,” she said, analyzing their gear. “Most entrants begin with naught but a simple tunic and blade, not garb as… unusual as yours. A bold choice for neophytes.”

 

“It worked well enough against those bandits last week,” Ron muttered with a hint of defensiveness.

 

“Ah, so it was your quaint troupe that quelled that skirmish? You’ve proven yourselves in a scuffle with common brigands, then.” Her voice held a tinge of respect, but also an undertone suggesting that she considered the bandits to be a lesser challenge. “An impressive feat for newcomers, indeed. Yet, the path of an adventurer is strewn with far greater perils than mere bandits. It shall be intriguing to see how your… unique methods fare against more formidable adversaries.” Her gaze lingered on them for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to her desk.

 

Before more could be said, the guild proctor arrived and brought the room to order. “Your inaugural trial shall be of written form,” the older lady announced. “It shall encompass the breadth of knowledge requisite for adventuring – the perils, the lore, and the sagacity needed to navigate them. Two hours shall be allotted for this test. Begin.”

 

Henry thought he’d be done with academic challenges after graduating, but he had to admit, this was pretty interesting. Guess it’s time to see how much of that briefing material stuck, he thought to himself.

 

The test was meticulously structured, beginning with an in-depth exploration of monster tiers and physiology. Intricate illustrations of creatures filled the pages, from the common goblins to the elusive and dangerous Death Knight. Henry leaned in, scrutinizing each drawing, recalling briefing notes and cross-referencing them with the creatures’ characteristics before naming and categorizing them into their respective Tiers. The Lesser and Greater variants and other subcategories thereof were a bit harder to pin down, but he could guess their general ranking amidst the other creatures. Overall, it was a much smoother experience compared to his high school days of identifying the mitochondria and other structures on a blurry, ink-splattered, and grainy figure of a cell.

 

The next section presented a series of mathematical challenges centered around the economics of adventuring. Here, the questions were grounded in reality: calculating equipment repair costs, material profits, and expedition budgeting.

One problem, in particular, stood out to Henry. It read: “A shattered sword requires 1,500 Lumins for repair. If a Sonaran merchant offers to pay for the repair in the local currency, how many Sonnars should Henry expect to receive?”

 

According to Kelmithus, the exchange rate between Lumins and Sonnars was about one to four. He flipped the page, checking a table to make sure. Yup, that would be 6,000 Sonnars. The section continued with similar problems, ranging from the griffin feather arbitrage in different cities to quest fees and taxation. Thankfully, the questions were nothing compared to the complexities of higher-order differential equations.

 

A turn of the page brought them to the world of alchemy. The section was filled with detailed descriptions of potions, each characterized by its unique color, scent and effects. They demanded careful analysis, challenging Henry’s understanding of this arcane science.

 

One of the questions posed a complex scenario: “If combining two parts of Moonshade Extract with one part of Sunleaf Sap creates a potion for enhanced night vision, what would be the result of reversing the proportions? Discuss an application for this new potion.” This type of question tested not only the basic knowledge of potion effects but also the principles of alchemical reactions, akin to stoichiometry.

 

Honestly, Henry didn’t know the answer to that question but he could make an educated guess. If the original potion’s dominant ingredient was moonshade extract it relates to night vision, then Sunleaf Sap, by contrast, might be associated with daylight-related effects. Thinking of practical applications, the new potion could probably reduce the intensity of light, allowing the user to see in blinding conditions, like if a dragon attacked from the direction of the sun.

 

Henry wrote down his answer, taking his time and thinking through the problems. Some scenarios he could deduce; others he had to recall from the dossier. The test even delved into basic aspects of crafting potions, particularly for injury recovery or other applications relevant to adventuring. In another instance, the test asked, “Calculate the volume of Solarian Oil needed to neutralize the acidic properties of a large vial of Veridian Venom.” Interestingly enough, the Guild seemed to have a standardized system of measurement similar to the metric system. If not for the provided tables and ratios, he would’ve certainly struggled to answer these questions. He also made a mental note to get this crucial data uploaded, if it wasn’t already.

 

The final segment of the test plunged them into the realm of strategy and tactics. Here, hypothetical scenarios sprawled across the pages: orchestrating an ambush on a bandit encampment, planning a defensive strategy against a marauding dragon, or coordinating a team for a dungeon delve. Each scenario provided its own description of available resources and terrain. Though he was more familiar with modern combat and tactics, he had studied and understood Kelmithus’ dossier well. His quill moved confidently, drawing from his own experience to craft unique strategies that made the most of each scenario’s available resources.

 

As the time concluded, the proctor’s voice cut through the room’s concentrated silence. “The allotted time has elapsed. Let your quills rest and cease all endeavors forthwith.”

Henry set down his quill, leaning back in his chair with a deep breath. He scanned the room, observing his team’s reactions. Dr. Anderson, in particular, seemed unfazed, almost at ease. Made sense; academic tests wouldn’t be much of an issue for an academic.

 

After collecting the tests and stacking them on her desk, the proctor addressed the room with a firm yet encouraging tone. “Make your way to the training hall for the ensuing segment of your evaluation – the trials of physical prowess. These shall gauge your readiness to face the myriad trials and tribulations that lie in the path of a true adventurer.”

 

The room stirred into motion. Sera was already on her feet, a certain smugness in her behavior suggesting overwhelming confidence in her abilities. She caught Henry’s eyes and offered a small, knowing smile. “There’s more to the path of an adventurer than mere words,” she said. “The true test begins now. For in the training hall, we shall see the mettle not just of mind, but of body and spirit.”

Ron nudged Henry as Sera strode ahead, rushing to meet her next challenge. “She’s bad as fuck bro. And she’s got an attitude.”

 

Henry smirked, watching Sera’s retreating figure. “Yeah, she certainly is a baddie. I dunno, I kinda like it. Reminds me of Dr. Lamarr a bit – skilled, confident, not afraid to speak her mind.”

 

“Y’all thinkin’ about minglin’ with the locals already, huh?” Ryan joined in. “Can’t say I blame ya. Hopefully, the options here are less limited than in Tehran.”

 

Ron snickered. “Watch the elves be super modest. I’m chilling though, chances are the catgirls and bunnygirls will be down to ‘mingle’, y’know, cause of biology.”

 

Henry looked at Ron. “Bruh.”

 

“Catgirls and bunnygirls huh?” Isaac turned to Ron, a grin growing on his face. “My man,” he said, dapping him up.

 

The other test-takers around them raised a few eyebrows at the conversation, but Henry could see the growing smiles on their faces. Seems like this type of banter was a universal constant among young people, no matter the setting. 

 

They entered the training hall, a vast space filled with the sounds of clanging metal, muffled thuds, and occasional cheers. The hall was segmented into various areas, each designated for different roles. Henry led his team towards the ‘ranged’ section, where targets of varying distances and sizes were set up. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Sera already waiting for her proctor at a section marked for magic swordsmen.

 

They waited alongside a few archers who cast curious glances at their attire and gear. After a few minutes, the proctor overseeing the ‘ranged’ section walked up. Clad in a functional tunic that failed to contain his bulging muscles and holding a massive longbow engraved with runes, he addressed them. 

 

“Stand to, archers!” he barked in a voice that reflected a military background. “I am Taldren ad Vorne, Tier 9. I will oversee the ranged test today, and I expect each of you to demonstrate your prowess with keen eyes and steady hands.”

 

The other adventurers quivered upon seeing the man. Meekly, they abandoned hope of being graded positively by ‘Dragon-Eye Taldren.’ But the archer didn’t pay heed to the amateurs wetting themselves. Instead, he found interest in Henry and Alpha Team. “Now, where might your bows be? These contraptions you bear resemble no bow I’ve seen.”

 

Henry stepped forward, rifle in hand. “These are our ranged weapons. They’re called rifles, and they serve the same purpose as a crossbow, albeit with a different mechanism.”

 

The proctor eyes the rifles for a moment longer, his expression one of bemused curiosity. “Rifles, you say? A queer sort of contraption, but the rules state any ranged weapon is permissible.” He paused, then nodded curtly. “Very well. The Guild embraces all capable of hitting their mark, regardless of the weapon. However, be warned, this test is not merely about hitting a target. You will be judged on accuracy, adaptability, and precision. Do you understand?”

 

“We do,” Henry replied.

 

“Good.” He then turned to the group as a whole. “I will be testing your performance individually, beginning with our foreigners here. Your test begins shortly. Prepare to prove your worth as marksmen of the Adventurers Guild.”