1375 Nero
The Adventurers Guild Building.
Even from the exterior, one could see that it was a grand structure, a testant to the bravery and endeavors of those who walked its halls. The facade was constructed of weathered stone, and the entrance was frad by intricately carved wooden doors. As the morning sun filtered through the stained glass windows, the interior was bathed in a myriad of colors, casting a warm, inviting glow over the guild hall.
Inside, the guild was a hive of activity. Adventurers of all kinds occupied the space, each engaged in their own pursuits. To the left of the entrance, a group of seasoned warriors huddled around a large wooden table, their faces lit by the flickering light of a nearby hearth. They spoke in hushed tones, their conversation punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the clinking of tankards. The scent of roasted at and freshly baked bread wafted from the nearby kitchen, where the guild's cook, a burly man with a perpetual scowl, worked tirelessly to feed the hungry masses.
Larion, they called him—Haunted Face Larion.
In the center of the hall stood a massive bulletin board, covered in parchnts of varying sizes and conditions. Each parchnt represented a quest or a bounty, offering rewards for those brave enough to take them on. A group of younger adventurers, likely on their first forays into the world, crowded around the board, their eyes wide with excitent and trepidation.
To the right, a small bar was tended by a sprightly lady with silver hair and a mischievous grin. She moved with a grace that belied her quickness, effortlessly managing the constant flow of patrons seeking a drink or a friendly conversation. Above the bar, a shelf lined with bottles of various shapes and colors caught the light, creating a dazzling display that drew the eye.
The walls of the guild were adorned with trophies and relics from countless adventures: a dragon's skull here, a tapestry depicting a great battle there. Each item told a story, a piece of history preserved within the guild's stone walls. A large fireplace dominated the far end of the hall, its roaring fire providing warmth and comfort to those gathered around it. Plush chairs and sofas were arranged in cozy clusters, inviting adventurers to sit and share their stories.
This all seed like one big family—or a den of ruffians.
Either way, they all seed very used to it. At the very least, there were no words of complaint.
Amidst these activities…
… The heavy wooden doors of the guild suddenly swung open with a resounding creak. A hush fell over the hall as all eyes turned towards the entrance. Standing in the doorway, frad by the bright sunlight outside, was a young person. Their figure was slender and slightly hunched, as if burdened by an invisible weight. They wore a long, dark cloak that obscured much of their form, the hood pulled up to shadow their face. Most striking of all was the mask they wore, a simple yet elegant piece of craftsmanship that covered the upper half of their face. The mask was white, adorned with intricate silver filigree that caught the light and shimred subtly.
The young person took a hesitant step forward, their boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. The silence in the guild hall was almost palpable, the air thick with curiosity and a hint of tension. Who was this masked figure, and what business did they have at the guild?
The woman behind the bar was the first to break the silence, her voice carrying a note of welco and intrigue. "Well now, who do we have here?" she called out, her silver eyes gleaming with interest.
The young person paused, their head turning slightly as if to take in the entire hall in one sweep. After a mont, they lowered their hood, revealing hair as dark as midnight, falling in loose waves around their shoulders. They took another step forward, and the crowd began to stir, whispers rippling through the assembly like the wind through a field of grass.
No one had ever seen this person before, and in a place such as this—where it was important to know one's coworkers in order to differentiate friends from allies—seeing a newbie, especially one as young as this person seed, was rare.
It almost never happened.
The young person approached the bulletin board, their gaze fixed on the array of quests and bounties. They moved with a quiet grace, each step deliberate and asured. As they reached the board, they extended a hand from within the folds of their cloak. The hand was slender and pale, the fingers long and elegant. They selected a parchnt from the board, examining it with a keen eye.
A burly man with a bushy beard, who had been watching the newcor with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, finally spoke up. "What's your na, stranger? And what brings you to our guild?"
The young person turned to face the dwarf, their eyes hidden behind the mask but their expression inscrutable. They spoke in a voice that was soft yet clear, carrying an undertone of resolve. "Call Nero" they said. "I co seeking a quest."
The simplicity of the statent hung in the air, as the guild mbers exchanged glances. A quest, in itself, was not unusual, but there was sothing about Nero's deanor and words that made people roll their eyes or glance at each other with certain looks.
The bushy bearded man narrowed his eyes, studying Nero intently. "A quest, eh? And what makes you think you're up to the challenge? We've seen many a brave soul co through those doors, and not all of them return."
Nero t the dwarf's gaze steadily, unflinching. "I understand the risks," they replied. "But I have my reasons, and I am prepared to face whatever challenges lie ahead."
The voice proceeding from his lips was clearly masculine, but there was a certain child-like tone to it that made it seemingly androgynous.
Before the man could say any more, Nero left the place and approached the receptionist at the far corner of the room.
"Fair enough, boy. Just rember, the guild is here to support its mbers. You don't have to face your battles alone."
A re inclination of the head was given in acknowledgnt, a hint of gratitude in the gesture, as Nero went on to face his business.
He went to the nearest desk and placed the parchnt that he chose on the table, sothing of a powerful glint hidden in his exposed eyes as he uttered words that showed nothing short of total resolve.
"I desire to take on the Adventurers Test."
The receptionist looked down at him, not intentionally of course. The boy was simply quite short—at least compared to most of the people that occupied the building. Even the counter seed a bit too high for him.
Still, none of it seed intimidating for him.
He simply stood there and waited for the response of the receptionist, who looked at him for a few seconds and asked the sa question the bearded man asked him.
"What is your na, young man?"
And, just like before… he gave the na he went by.
"Nero."
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[Welco To The Kingdom's Adventurer Arc]
{I plan to release at least one chapter per day this month… and I hope I'm consistent in it. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate your support!}
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