by Pirateaba
“We’re the Horns of Hammerad.”
“What? I thought they—you were dead.”
The half-Elf gave the man at the desk a wide, magic grin. She laughed, coughed, and spoke softly in the silence.
“We’re not dead yet.”
—-
What happens when the adventurers return with treasure? The real question is: how does the Adventurer’s Guild handle it? For the [Receptionists] and other staff employed at the Guilds, the moment when the weary [Warrior] walks in with a [King]’s ransom in jewels is the hardest. Things have to be immediately counted, a receipt has to be drawn up and approved by mage, guards have to be posted to prevent those with sticky fingers from walking off with everything—
Generally, [Rogues], [Thieves], and people with such classes are banned from the Guild for a good period of time. But the most important thing, every experienced desk-warrior will agree, is tending to the adventurers. In their post-battle state, they are often grumpy, irritated, and as of such, tending to their needs is the highest priority.
The [Receptionists] and other staff at the Adventurer’s Guild in Remendia might not have been high-level, but they knew that when exhausted, irritated adventurers came in with more gold than they could carry, the correct response was always ‘yes’.
In fact, the word yes should be accompanied by more honeyed phrases if possible, such as: On credit? Why certainly. We’ll have the best inn reserved, and porters are on the way. In fact, let me just open our emergency stash of potions right now…
That was how Ceria, Pisces, Yvlon, and Ksmvr found themselves in the best inn in the city in short order, clutching magically-signed receipts for their goods while Silver-rank adventurers were hired to guard the treasure now sitting in the Guild vaults. All four were swaying, but their wounds had been healed with the best potions, they’d been given a full meal which none of them had finished from sheer exhaustion, and Yvlon had already been booked to see the best [Healer] in the city, along with a [Blacksmith].
But for now they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep. Which they did. And when they woke up and found an [Innkeeper] beaming and ready to serve them anything they wanted—including insects and spiders for Ksmvr, if the good Antinium was so inclined—they found a bit of life had come back into their world.
“Do we need to get back to the Guild right away?”
Pisces twisted in the elegant seat he was sitting in. The private room of The Nobleman’s Disgrace was sumptuously adorned, and the meal in front of them had no less sumpt. Ceria pushed back her meal of steak—a real steak, cooked and seasoned despite the winter—patting her belly.
“I don’t think we do. It’s probably good too, I guess.”
“You’re sure those [Receptionists] aren’t leaving with our treasure as we speak? What’s to stop them?”
“The fact that every [Assassin] in the continent would be hired if they did. Relax, Pisces. The Adventurer’s Guild has a solemn contract with us adventurers. If we couldn’t trust them with what we find, we wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”
Yvlon laughed softly as she tore into soft bread seasoned with garlic. Her motions were stiff, but she had reassured the others that she had felt no pain in the morning, and she had several healing potions on her in the meanwhile.
“We should probably go soon though, because the prices for guarding what we earned won’t be low.”
“True.”
Ceria made a face. She eyed the third of steak and wondered if she could eat it. She thought about puking up what she’d eaten and pushed it over to Pisces with a sigh. He began chomping down her food. He eyed the two experienced adventurers warily.
“What kind of prices are we talking about?”
“Oh, hiring guards, identifying magical items—I’m not sure if the Guild does that, but they’ll definitely overcharge us for the potions they gave us. We’re oozing gold, and they’ll try to squeeze us for everything they can.”
“All the more reason to leave right away. We should sell what we can and get the artifacts identified by a reputable mage. Unless there is a procedure we must go through?”
He looked at Yvlon and Ceria expectantly. Ksmvr, engrossed in eating the bread dough which he had explicitly requested from the [Chef], looked up. Ceria exchanged a glance with Yvlon and hesitated.
What did they do? She thought about it, and then felt something peculiar in her stomach. It felt…light. What would they have done, if she’d been here with Calruz and Gerial, celebrating after getting the treasure out of Liscor? They’d never…discussed it, but here they were, stuck.
“I don’t know.”
Ceria’s lips twitched a bit. She smiled.
“What?”
Pisces and Ksmvr looked at Ceria oddly. She smiled a bit wider, as a fuzzy sensation began to float upwards in her chest.
“I don’t know. I’ve never found a magical artifact this powerful before. I’ve never—Yvlon, have you ever come out of a dungeon with this kind of loot?”
The other woman paused, and then adopted the same smile.
“Never. I’d never considered it. We’re walking blind, aren’t we? I’ve never seen a group come in with as much gold as we have—or with as many magical artifacts!”
“And they’re broken! Just imagine—we’ll have to identify them, and then see if there’s an [Enchanter] strong enough to fix them! Could anyone even do that in this day and age?”
Ceria laughed, almost incredulously. Pisces and Ksmvr looked surprised, but then they found the same emotion in their chests. The mage began to grin, and so did the Antinium, in his own way.
“Those merchants out there—they’re going to try and rob us blind!”
“They are!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if every [Footpad] and [Thug] in the city’s memorized our faces. And the [Shopkeepers]—dead gods, we’ll be lucky if we can buy a loaf of bread for a gold coin!”
Ksmvr nodded his head as the others laughed and smiled wider.
“I find the prospect of being shortchanged quite pleasant.”
The others looked at each other, laughing, and then falling into a smiling silence.
“We did it.”
“We did, didn’t we?”
“We succeeded despite all the odds. We found treasure—in ruined Albez, no less!”
“We accomplished our task with zero casualties.”
Ceria looked around the table, at the three smiling faces. She couldn’t keep hers off her face. She felt a twinge in her heart, but the smile never faded. She said the words softly, disbelievingly.
“We really did it.”
—-
The Horns of Hammerad left the inn around midday, politely fending off the [Innkeeper] as he tried to entice them with more food, and the luxuries of their inn. They never noticed the young boy who sped out the back door the instant they were done eating, and so after they left the inn ten minutes later, they were unprepared for what came next.
Ceria put her hand on the doorknob and opened it. She walked outside, blinking at the sunlight, and was then overwhelmed by sound and motion and movement. She heard screaming, wild, frenzied, and tensed.
But it was no group of thugs that came to attack her, no mob. Ceria blinked and gaped as her eyes adjusted and she saw people, standing outside the inn and shouting and waving at her and the other Horns of Hammerad as they left their inn.
A wall of Humanity, stomping and clapping and cheering at the top of their lungs lined both sides of the street. People hung out of windows in buildings, shouting down at the Horns of Hammerad. Still more were standing on ledges or even on the rooftops, just to see.
They waved flags, threw colored flour—flowers being out of season—and waved desperately to attract the attention of the adventurers. People of the [Musician] class were playing their instruments loudly, and as the Horns of Hammerad exited the inn and stared, someone began hitting a drum and trumpets began to sound.
Ksmvr stared around w
ildly, confused and unsure of what to do. Yvlon was just gaping, and Pisces and Ceria were dumbstruck. The half-Elf could barely process what was occurring before her eyes. This looked like a celebration. For her? For them?
Everyone was staring at her. The sun was out, and it was like a sea of faces was opened up, every eye looking at her, every face in a smile or shouting at her. It was overwhelming, even terrifying—
And to Ceria, it was a complete and utter surprise. She couldn’t even believe it was for her. But she took a step forwards on the cobbled street and the people went wild. They were cheering, yes, shouting—not just her name, but the name of her party!
“Horns! The Horns of Hammerad!”
“Hammerad!”
“Hammerbad!”
She’d been an adventurers for years, but Ceria had never had anyone cheer for her. Oh, a village had turned out now and then once they’d taken care of a monster threat, and maybe they’d have a round of drinks bought for them, but the old Horns of Hammerad had never warranted even a parade. And this?
Ceria lifted her hand hesitantly, and the wave of noise it provoked nearly blew her away. People were cheering and waving handkerchiefs, pointing and smiling—
At her?
She still couldn’t believe it. But part of Ceria, once she had overcome the shock, part of her understood.
How long had it been since she’d been a child? When had she…forgotten what it was like to be an adventurer, what it meant to ordinary people? She was someone who went into dark places and slew monsters, who went into the depths of the darkest dungeon and came out with that which shone even brighter than the sun. She was an Adventurer, a hero in the imaginations of many. And she had conquered a dungeon, the feat that every adventurer dreams of.
She had seen the treasure, and she had come back with it. She had proven that there was truth to the old tales, and given them something to hold onto. A bit of truth in the stories. The half-Elf walked forwards, raising her hand, and they shouted and cheered and called her name.
Pisces walked behind Ceira, staring, just staring. He looked down the rows of smiling faces, and felt all that attention, that goodwill directed at him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, bewitching, more enchanting than any spell. He saw young women smiling at him, and children running along, staring at him. He was wearing crimson red robes, the ones loaned to him to replace his dirty garments. But the [Mage], the [Necromancer] walked in them as if they were made for him, and when he made his fingers spark with magic, the crowd cheered and oohed and aahed, for there went a true [Mage], a master of magic.
Yvlon walked silently, in a bubble of her own. She stared at the crowd, and saw people pointing to her arms. But not in disgust. She was a wounded hero, a warrior who had survived a great battle. And her eyes found the young men and women wearing worn armor and equipment, whose eyes were on her, hopeful, dreaming of the day they might be like her. And she thought of those she had left behind, and she kept her back straight as the wind blew her golden hair behind her.
For Ksmvr, he felt as all Humans felt when they saw the Antinium and realized there was another world they had never known, another people. He looked into smiling faces, Human ones filled with emotion and life, and realized how small his understanding of the world had been.
And the Humans looked back, and saw a new kind of adventurer, no longer a nameless horror. They stared at Ksmvr with a bit of fright, but mostly awe. The Antinium waved with his three hands at the crowds, and the people cheered even at him. He might be a monstrous Antinium, but he was an adventurer too. He was special.
Ceria walked down the street, and breathed in. Slowly. The air was cold, but the city was warm, burning even. There were people around her, calling out her name, loving her though they had never seen her face before in their lives. She looked around, and saw a sight she had never even dreamed of in the sixty years she had been alive.
It was humbling, wonderful, and in her heart, Ceria felt something give. She looked over with slightly blurred eyes and saw a tall figure to her left. In her mind’s eye, Gerial walked down the street, slightly stiff but nearly busting with pride, waving a hand now and then and going red when they cheered his name.
Ahead of her, Calruz strode ahead, tall, back straight to the sky, not looking left or right as he kept up his dignified façade—but loving every minute of it.
Behind her, Sotstrom twirled his staff and emitted a shower of light particles, much to the delight of those watching. Hunt and Mariam waved and cheered as well, and the other Horns of Hammerad walked proudly, marching as one.
For a moment. And then Ceria was back to the present, and she saw Pisces flicking his fingers and sending pink doves flying across the crowd, making them shriek and reach for the apparitions of light. She saw Ksmvr catch a wilted flower and eat it, Yvlon smile at a young boy who ran out of the crowd to stare at her arms, and then she looked ahead.
The sky was very bright. And it was still cold, still winter. But right now she felt warm. Ceria murmured the words to herself, and let them disappear in the sounds of celebration.
“What an adventure.”
And somehow, it felt like it had only just begun.
3.09
Ryoka Griffin stood on the top of a snow-covered hill, facing the wind. Her arms were spread out, and she raised her head as the cold winter winds blew around her. The snow-flecked breeze tugged at her light clothing, a shirt and loose leggings, wholly inappropriate for the season. But the young woman paid no attention to the cold. In fact, such was her body heat that the snow had melted around her bare feet, exposing flattened grass underneath.
She was completely still as the air ruffled her long hair. Ryoka breathed in and felt the cold in her lungs. But she let not one muscle move; made no concession to the elements. Her breathing slowed, and Ryoka became one with nature. She was one with the world. One with the cosmos.
After another minute Ryoka opened her eyes.
“This is stupid.”
She dropped her arms to her side. She twisted her neck and heard a crick. Wincing, she rubbed at her shoulders and looked around. Then she glared at her midriff.
“Hey, Ivolethe! Did you hear me? I said this is stupid. It’s not working.”
Somewhat predictably, Ryoka’s midriff did not respond to her comment. But after a second, one of the compartments in her belt rustled, and a small head poked out. The tiny crystal head had bulging cheeks, and as Ivolethe flew out of the pouch she crammed the last bit of dried sweet fruit into her mouth.
“What’s wrong, Ryoka?”
The young woman paused and eyed Ivolethe. The naked faerie was just as ignorant of the cold as Ryoka was, but she had clearly been feasting in Ryoka’s pouch while the young woman tried to commune with the wind. The faerie was covered in bits of dried fruit; the sticky sweets clung to her like leeches.
Ivolethe didn’t seem to mind. The faerie peeled a bit of raisin off her stomach while Ryoka pushed at her hair distractedly. She spoke with waspish exasperation, but trying to moderate her tone.
“This isn’t working. I’ve been here for over an hour doing what you said, and all I have to show for it is wet feet and sore shoulders.”
“Hmm.”
The faerie eyed Ryoka skeptically, and then flew around her in a quick pattern. When she stopped she looked disappointed.
“You feel nothing? Even after taking in the wind?”
“Aside from the need to pee? Nothing.”
Ryoka sighed as the faerie scowled. She spread her hands.
“I don’t know. What should I be feeling?”
“The wind.”
The faerie gave her a look as if Ryoka was insane. Ryoka gave the faerie the same look.
“I’ve been feeling the wind. But I don’t feel a connection to it or whatever. Look, is there something else we can try?”
“I suppose we must try something else, then.”
Ivolethe screwed up her face in concentration. Ryoka began stretching her sore legs, w
atching the faerie think.
In theory, they were right now studying faerie magic. That was to say, Ivolethe was trying to teach Ryoka how the Frost Faeries conjured snow and moved faster than anything Ryoka had even seen in the world. Trying was the optimal word here, though.
“Are you sure this is how you teach people faerie magic?”
“No.”
Ryoka paused as she grabbed her foot from behind, stretching the muscles in her legs out.
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I thought you knew what you were doing! You told me to stand here and listen to the wind!”
The faerie glared at her.
“And I thought it would help! No wonder ye heard nothing, though, since all ye do is jabber on with your complaints!”
“I’m doing my best. But I don’t even know what I’m doing! What part of the wind are you talking about?”
“There!”
Ryoka’s head turned as the faerie shouted. All she saw was a bit of grey sky. She turned back to the faerie, scowling. But Ivolethe didn’t look like she was pulling a prank on Ryoka. She flew up swiftly into the sky, over a hundred feet in seconds, and then flew in a twisting, downwards spiral around the hill. The human girl watched her, entranced by the graceful motion.
The faerie flew past Ryoka in a rush of air, and then stopped. She looked down at Ryoka, smiling. Ryoka had to smile back.
“Did ye see it?”
Ryoka paused and frowned.
“See what?”
Ivolethe’s smile faded and her face went slack. She gestured.
“The wind, of course! Did ye see as I followed it?”
“I saw you flying. That’s all.”