“Five silver? This is a roc-cait’s claw! Any enchanter would kill to work with it!”

  “Five silver is the going rate.”

  As soon as the curtain fluttered over him, the noises of the city came rushing towards him.

  “Five silver is the standard going rate for this quality of claw.”

  “Bullshit!” The man at the counter slammed his fist down.

  Jein stepped out of the backroom. The Clerk glanced at him.

  “Finished straightening up back there? Good.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah.”

  “Alright, that’s all the work I had for you for the day. Remember to come back tomorrow to get your pay for the week.”

  “Huh? Yeah.”

  Jein kept his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn’t sure who he could, or couldn’t look at. Who was a member of the cult or the general public. He made his way to the door. People flowed around him like a river’s flow around a stone. Where was he? He was sure that he had been just about nearly everywhere in the city of Astaire, but he had never been here before. He didn’t recognize the way the ground felt; though it was the first time he was wearing shoes. He didn’t recognize the way the paths bent, and he was sure that the air felt just a little bit warmer than the late-winter that he was sure had to be out there.

  Countless pairs of boots walked along the floor. How many people were here? Was he...He looked up. He was! He was in Torivor’s Trove; the largest general store in the city, and the go to place if one wanted to hear adventurer’s stories. It not only contained a general store, but a bar, a restaurant, a bath, and a place to get your laundry done. With the addendum that it was only open for adventurers and employees of the various facilities. Jein would hang out near the front of the store to hear stories from the passing adventurers: hoping that his Ceremony would reveal that he was meant to be one. How romantic the life seemed.

  He walked through the enclosed square that housed the countless companies that made up the Trove. He wasn’t technically allowed to be here yet. Yet. He would once he joined the guild. He wished he could look around, but he would be kicked out the moment he was found out that he wasn’t part of the guild. The scent of freshly baked bread, frying meats, and bubbling stews assailed him. Twinkling, glazed pastries sat on the shelves of shops, and colorful fruits and candies tantalized him. He knew where he was going when he finished his first quest. When this whole nonsense with the cult or whatever it was that was supposedly after him.

  Finding the way out was fairly easy. There were signs posted in the little walkways with directions to each of the stores, and to the exit. It took about ten minutes until he got to the gate that housed the Trove. It opened by itself, and he stepped into the city. The Trove was just down the road from the guild. He walked the block or so, and stopped.

  Men and women, in loose-fitting robes, tightly buckled, gleaming armors, and carrying weapons made of iron, dragon scales, and carved bone and ironwood. Tinkling vials of potions swung on their hips, and swollen pouches of clinking gold weighed down their front pocket. This was The Astaire Adventurer’s Guild: The City on the Edge of Camareth’s Greath Frontier; and the capital of the Bauder Barony.

  The door swung inward, and a beast-kin stood there, holding the edge. Black, pointed ears, and a whiskered nose twitched as her feline face turned towards the young boy. She wore a red cloak with a white fur inlay that was draped down from her shoulders all the way to the bottoms of her digitigrade feet.

  “Nyah, trying to come in?”

  Jein could only nod: his auburn, wavy hair bouncing with the motion. Hot air rushed out of the open door, carrying the smell of baked bread and boiling stews. Grilling meats and veggies. Fat sizzling on heated pans. His stomach rumbled like a hollow bell. Her amber eyes widened.

  “Did you want to join the guild?”

  “Yes…”

  The beast-kin girl glanced back over her shoulder and into the darkened room.

  “How old are ya? Ya don’t look no older than 10.”

  “I’m 13, ma’am...just turned it a few weeks back”

  “Didja have your Ceremony already?”

  Jein nodded.

  “Okay, follow me!”

  She pivoted on her heel back into the building. People pushed past her, and she reached out to grab Jein's hand. Jein jolted as her hand neared him. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. The beastkin-girl quickly retracted her hand before offering it again.

  “It could be a bit tricky getting to the Enrollment Office! So we don’t get separated.”

  Jein nodded and placed his hand in hers. As soon as his hand touched her paw-pads, she closed her fingers around his palm and pulled him in. People pushed past in droves: fitting for the main hub of the Adventurer’s Guild! Braided bearded dwarves, scaled Lizard-folk, war-hardened warriors, and halflings tinkering in the Guild Library. A giant crystal hung suspended by iron chains and iron bands. Words flicked across the screen, and scribes stood beneath them with feathered quills.

  “Pretty neat, huh!” The Beastkin said as she followed the young boy’s gaze to the crystal. “Every guild hall has one, but this is the biggest there is!”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a kind of magic that scans for threats up to 200 miles away.” She said. “It’s the main way the Guild gets quests.”

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  “What are the other ways?”

  “Citizens can request things to be done: if they need items, or if something is lost, they’ll come to us to find them! Now...tell me, what did you think of your Ceremony?”

  “It…” He shuddered. “It was scary.”

  “Wasn’t it?” The beast-kin woman shuddered. “We had to stay underwater for a time...I hear the human ones are even worse!”

  Her hand was warm. It was the first time in his life that he had felt such warmth. Even the Cleric who led him into the blessed pool for his Ceremony scrunched his nose in disgust as she touched his hand.

  “What are your stats? Can I see?”

  “You know that’s really rude, right?” The tenor voice of a young man came from ahead.

  “Gil! I have someone here who wants to join the guild!”

  “Oh? You’re kind of young, aren’t you?”

  “I had my cere—“

  “He says he had his Ceremony already!”

  Gil flinched.

  “Nasty stuff.” Gil said, “But we get your kind in here, all the kind: street kids who think they can trick the Guild into letting them in before they can, so they can earn some money. Listen, kid, this is dangerous work. We’ll get fined BIG if we let you in without proof.”

  Jein stepped forth, ripped his hand out of the beast-kin’s, and patted his chest.

  “I’m not a liar!” He growled. “What do you want me to do to prove it?”

  “Pfft,” Gil covered his mouth and laughed. “Don’t take it so seriously. The Barony doesn’t care, regardless. But I would warn you,” His laughter faded, and he leaned forward on the varnished countertop, “if you’re lying, and it is found out, you’ll be removed from the guild, and be banned from ever joining again.”

  “I’m not lying!” He said again.

  “Oh! Then come back here and prove it.”

  Jein stomped forward and behind the desk. The man opened a door on the wall behind the desk and stepped inside. Doors lined the walls, as people hurried in and out. Soldiers carrying the most urgent orders from the crystal discussed loudly about raids on farms far into the frontier, and women carrying paper towers that swayed with every step pushed past them. Jein peered into some of these doors: weeping women and stoic doctors spoke with agents of the Guild. Doors swung open and slammed shut, and the halls wound round and round.

  Sharp corners and spiraling staircases crawled up into the second — third stories of the sprawling building. Here, there was a single door at the end of a long hall, near a bay window that overlooked the vast frontier. A dozen and a half people waited in line here: many were young, but most looked older than twenty.

  “This is the Enrollment Office,” Gil said. “Wait in line, and you’ll be seen eventually.”

  “And this will prove I’m not a liar?”

  “In due time,” Gil reached out to slap the young boy’s shoulder.

  Jein recoiled once more, and Gil retracted his hand.

  “Kid...for your sake, I really do hope you’re telling the truth so you don’t have to go back.”

  t was a reflex at this point: something that he couldn’t control whenever someone reached out for him. Bruises still stained the pale skin of his shoulder and up and down his spine. His ribs still ached from the beatings he got from the beating he got right after his turning 13 when he tried to get a piece of bread from the house’s shared kitchen.

  “You’re no longer our problem, rat.” His father’s voice still rang in his ear. “This is MY bread. I paid for it.”

  The feeling of the club against the back of his legs and between his shoulders.

  “Get out! Get out!”

  His mother threw a glass bottle that shattered against the wall, and he fled. That was the first night that he had spent beneath the rotting straw thrown over the side of the bridges. He’d see his brother and sister around the slums. His brother now walked with a limp he didn’t have before, and Jein had cursed his weakness. Now they were out of his parent’s house and safe.

  Jein nodded and watched as the man pulled away. The line inched forward as a voice called, “Next,” to summon the person who stood at the front of the line. Slowly, the line began to dwindle.

  Each of those in front of him carried their own weapons — swords, axes, bows, and spears. War-hammers and shields, and a single wand tucked in a waistband. They also wore armor of buckled, boiled, and studded leather, segmented plates strapped to their bodies, or chain hauberks tucked beneath bright tunics. Each of them looked fierce and ready for the life they were stepping into. His hand wandered to the dagger that Aurrior had given him. He belonged here.

  Step by step, the line dwindled. From what he could tell, there were three separate voices calling in new people. Two women and a man. His mind turned back to money. What would he buy first? Bread? Meat? Seared veggies? His stomach rumbled loudly, and heat rushed to his cheeks as those in front of him looked back in disgust.

  “You hungry?”

  A small voice came from behind. He glanced backwards.

  A young girl he had seen at his Ceremony with blonde curls and bright blue eyes. She wore a sky-blue, frilly dress that swept the ground. Over her dress, she wore a shining steel breastplate with golden, floral filigree, and carried a silvered handle rapier upon her hip.

  “My lady,” An elderly man, with hair as white as the silver on her hip, and of the chain hanging off her neck, “Leave this...child be. Less his stink get upon your new clothes.”

  “Oh, hush, Hester,” She glanced over the man and drew her brows down upon him, “Let me help. He’s one of my father’s subjects: surely he would want me to help him just as anyone else.”

  “My lady.”

  “I am,” Jein answered. “Very.”

  The young girl smiled, dug through the satchel hanging on her hip, and pulled out a piece of bread and a piece of salted, dried meat from inside. Jein took them hesitantly and bit into the bread as soon as he could.

  “What’s your name?” The girl asked.

  “Jein.” He answered.

  “Just Jein? Do you not have a surname?”

  “No.” He stated immediately. “Just Jein.”

  “Well, ‘just Jein, I’m Vierra.” The girl grabbed the corner of her dress, picked it up, and curtsied. “Vierra Bauder.”

  “Bauder...as in Baron Bauder?”

  She chuckled.

  “Indeed. I am the Baron’s daughter.” She said with a smile.

  “Indeed, she is, child. So turn around and be grateful for the boon she offered you.”

  The elderly man barked: his fingers danced across the leather-bound handle of the cudgel hanging on his waist. Jein took the hint and turned around to savor the bit of food he had been given.

  “Hester! Leave the boy alone.”

  “If you feed a dog, he’ll continue to come licking at your hand every time he’s hungry.”

  “I’m not a dog,” Jein said. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  “I expect a dog would say the same thing; if he were able to talk. “

  Jein shot a narrowed look at the man behind him, and the man’s hand moved to his cudgel.

  “Avert your gaze, you contemptible leech.” The man said. “Less I lay the contents of your head out on the carpet.”

  “Hester! I order you to stop.” Lady Vierra said, “And Jein, I do apologize. He is protective of me.”

  “Do not utter another word to my lady. Parasite.” The servant spat.

  “Next!”

  The line had moved to the door over the course of the exchange. Jein’s time had come, and he entered the door without breaking his glare on the man.