Chapter 4: Jobs For Sale

  Brynnly moved north towards the closest outpost of the Adventurers Guild, swaying in the saddle with the gait of his mount. He alternated a ground-eating canter with a quick walk, occasionally leading her on foot for a rest.

  He quickly covered vast tracts of land without burning out his horse or himself. It took an hour or so to get the horse warmed up properly using this method, but it would enable swifter travel over a longer time.

  If he were willing to walk the horse as a warmup and cool down, the outpost would be reached before the end of the day. When your liege lord asked you to do something, it was best to do it quicker than they thought possible. Lord Tom was young, making Brynnly’s objective a little easier.

  Keep the boss happy, and your own life might remain tolerable. Even if he is a decent boss.

  He thought with the flavor of a reformed cynic.

  Shaking off this questionable thought, he continued towards the outpost. Finally, after a few hours of the demanding pace, he reached it without running into wandering monsters, caravans, or foot traffic along the north road.

  On his way north, Brynnly expected some local traffic between the smaller villages. Even with the heat, deliveries to the outpost should have been going on. The lack was starting to unsettle him as if he had witnessed a raccoon having tea with a pigeon in a raincoat. It was vaguely ominous, without context, as to why they were staring at passersby.

  As he crested the last low hill, the outpost came into view. Mediocropolis, it wasn’t much to look at unless you considered how many adventurers came through on their way to dungeons or en route to fulfill a service quest.

  The second largest building, the tavern and inn, doubled as the adventurers guild. Various other utilitarian buildings provided basic services tot he adventurers with one end of the outpost dominated by a much larger series of two-story buildings clustered together.

  Hundreds of the Guildies passed through this outpost in a month. On their way to fortune and fame. Or an early death. That many people moving through ensured a lucrative living for some. Those willing to put up with some adventurers' less-than-admirable attitudes gained more.

  Brynnly slowed his horse to a steady walk as he descended towards the cluster of buildings surrounded by a decently built palisade. He snorted softly to himself and thought,

  If they don’t die gloriously over a few coins.

  Brynnly believed that most new joins had a skewed sense of how dangerous the occupation could be. Most new joins had an underdeveloped understanding of what quick fortune could cost. Fatalities were more common than heroic maiming or riches.

  On top of the danger, glory was usually found by the more well-to-do families of the peerage as a kind of political currency. An everyday-born adventurer was often used as fodder by the higher classes. It thinned out the larger masses of weaker monsters in larger dungeons with little loss to the noble ranks.

  Some of the older or more established Guildies did make an effort to train up the younger, ignoble members. But when large amounts of coin were flooded into the bureaucracy of the guild by the peerage to try and give their young scions an advantage, the poorer classes suffered.

  Less equipment was available. Fewer quality instructors were available. There was less opportunity to learn under experienced adventurers, just less for those who didn’t already have a big piece of the pie.

  Brynnly thought the only reason the whole system hadn’t collapsed under the weight of those on top was the efforts of the experienced, ignoble members to try and give those in the lower classes a chance. With scholarships and meritorious promotions being handed out to the more ambitious and capable among the lower class, things balanced out mostly.

  Those factors and the guild's accidental creation of merit-based rewards helped the balance.

  Brynnly wasn’t sure who had let that particular piece of the legislature through. If you didn’t do the work, regardless of any other advantages given to you, you didn’t get to enjoy the fruit. He thought it would be much worse if it hadn’t been for that rule. But, with the guild having such a reputation for entitled twats infesting it, Brynnly was grateful it still got the job done.

  Blessing small fortunes from Milo, the god of luck, Brynnly was glad he had been contracted out to Lord Tom by the crown’s Luciloos. The noble of Red Adder County cared about his people. The quality of service he enjoyed showed because of that.

  Most of the peerage did have cursory care for their charges, but it was more about ensuring their incomes than caring for the people. As a result, interest in their well-being beyond the most basic of needs being met was rare. It was a point of ego among most nobles to be seen as better than their charges. Weakness or softness towards one’s inferiors was seen as a disease. Brynnly hoped it was a catching disease.

  He continued down into the outpost and made straight for the tavern. The second largest structure was painted a pristine white on the upper half, with the lower story walls presenting murals of some of the more famous adventurers’ exploits.

  Here, a tale of a dragon slain. A group of bandits getting disbanded through righteous murder there. A group of exotic monsters was being destroyed while an overly effeminate-looking conservationist cried in the background.

  Brynnly had a professional opinion on that one as a commissioned ranger.

  Since when is proper game management a bad thing?

  The murals continued as Brynnly approached the entrance. In the next series of paintings, a beautiful man was being fought over by a group of fierce-looking, well-equipped women. Finally, the unfortunately pretty man was killed by the lone survivor, who was angry that her sisters had been killed in the fight. It had been titled “Hilda’s Lament.”

  Infamy was portrayed as popular as fame for a virtue. Of course, most of the murals incorporated violence, but this was a pretty violent world, so Brynnly supposed that was to be expected.

  Passing the reins of his horse over to the stableboy near the entrance, he tossed a few coppers to the younger guildie, who scowled at the miser who foisted off pocket change. The guild stable hand was eyeing the lathered beast piteously and glanced at the coppers in his hand before pocketing the coins. He patted the horse with affection as he took him around the side of the building.

  Adventurers were efficient, for the most part, on the little things, and caring for mounts was one of the essential services offered to visitors that even the noble prats saw as valuable.

  Entering the tavern-turned-outpost, Brynnly ignored the various minor parties drinking at the bar or playing darts in the corner. Amusingly, one adventurer was using axes and daggers instead, to the annoyance of some of the servers eyeing the man warily.

  Brynnly headed to a bored-looking clerk browsing a book in another corner as he observed the room in passing. The bear behind the bar with a strange crown on its head was an odd site. Especially as it was polishing the bar top with a cloth, the chains it was wearing on its forepaws jingled softly.

  It didn’t seem aggressive, though its size still made Brynnly wary. But, of course, any sane person would be mindful of a bear that brushed its head against the eight-foot ceiling and had the dexterity to tend the bar.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  As he approached the man perusing the book in front of him, the clerk spoke without looking up,

  “Nothin’ new. Pay attention to your seal for updates. Check back tomorrow if you must, or you can check the service board outside for some routine quests. Go away.”

  Brynnly didn’t respond to this except to retrieve a ring with Lord Tom’s seal of the Red Adder from his vest pocket. He placed it on top of the book the clerk was reading.

  The clerk was startled at someone’s hand appearing in front of him. He did a short double take at the ring.

  “Well, that’s completely different.”

  Handing the ring back to Brynnly, the clerk quickly swept up a quill and ink jar from under the table. He slid a different book off of a nearby shelf. He opened the embossed cover. Faintly glowing symbols accented the hefty tome.

  The clerk turned the pages carefully and quickly. Finally, he reached a blank page, looked up calmly, and questioned the ranger.

  “Location? Objective? Difficulty? Expected payout? Deadline?”

  Brynnly responded just as calmly, though with some more curtness,

  “Crook shire outskirt farm in Red Adder county, mob removal, unknown numbers of mobs, but at least ten expected. They are also suspected Interlopers. Five gold upon arrival per member with expenses included. Thirty gold per member with satisfactory completion of removal if confirmed to be interlopers, half that if not. Two days from tomorrow morning.”

  A few of the closer adventurer parties pricked up their ears at this softly spoken statement. An unknown number of dungeon-creating monsters could give a significant amount of renown. And everybody likes payday.

  They could even be valuable if they were rare mobs and not true Interlopers. Add in the fact that Junior members couldn’t achieve their next rank without capturing a rare mob, and it was a lucrative job.

  The clerk raised an eyebrow at the pronouncement but dutifully wrote the details into the book. He then took a small stamp with the guild seal of a sword, shield, and a wand crossing over the top from under the table.

  Pressing the stamp onto the page next to the entry, a glow started coming from the seal. The specially prepared ink of the entry just made by the clerk flashed before it settled into a steady luminosity of its own.

  All the adventurers in the tavern not close enough to hear the exchange looked down and retrieved a small disk featuring the guild seal from their belts or pouches as the seals vibrated softly with a quest update. Different displays of various colors could be seen. Glowing characters lit up just above the guild symbol embossed upon the disks.

  Brynnly knew this would be a short briefing for each guildie. It would broadcast the county-level quest details and expected rewards. The seals also connected to absent party members. The missing members could vote for or against the quest if they cared.

  After reviewing the details, many guildies returned to what they were doing. Three party leaders along the crowded bar pressed a portion of the seal, indicating interest. They stood from their respective groups near the bar. They approached the clerk and ranger.

  The first two were human with reasonably good gear, looked to be a simple fighter and the other some subclass of rogue. The third was unusual as it was a dwarf in full plate with the symbol of his God etched into the upper right breast of the cuirass. The dwarf still had the tankard they had been drinking from in hand as they approached.

  The rogue spoke up first to the clerk,

  “Gold’s okay, but I need more information on the mobs before I commit my team to something like this. We’ve got a delve starting tomorrow night. I don’t want to be a double booker.”

  One of the less flexible rules in the guild was that any job committed to by a guild member must be completed or deemed unfeasible due to real difficulty before accepting another.

  Hefty career-ruining fines aside, double booking without being able to complete a quest could follow a guildie like a visible stink cloud. Moreover, it often led to unfavorable treatment among the guild, compounding the danger. Guild reputation was a touchy subject amongst most members.

  Brynnly spoke up at once,

  “About three hundred yards of small-sized tunnels have been discovered near a farm in Red Adder county. A farmer found the tunnels after he was attacked by one of the monsters dwelling in them. The injury was done to the farmer’s foot through leather work boots. A crude map of the tunnels was found. Markings on the map indicate an infestation nearby, beyond just those in the tunnels.”

  The clerk updated the guild book with these details as Brynnly Spoke. The initial entry didn’t need to be created with such detail. However, it would be valuable information for the researchers to use for statistical analysis. It didn’t hurt that since it was helpful for the researchers, it could be sold at a significant profit since it was freely given.

  The rogue shook his head and said over his shoulder as he walked away,

  “Sorry, too much time wrapped up in something like that.”

  The fighter looked a little more interested, while the dwarf seemed bemused.

  “Haven’t been to Red Adder before. How far is it? My party might have the time,”

  This was from the human fighter. He was tall, with a wicked-looking bearded axe hanging from his belt. His heavy leather armor was well-maintained and recently oiled.

  “About four hours ride south if you don’t dally about,”

  Brynnly said.

  The fighter pursed his lips at that and looked at the dwarf.

  “Well, Nixen? You want this one? You gave us the last on. And we still need to restock from our last delve. You could be on your way quicker than us.”

  The dwarf took a sip from the tankard before replying,

  “Aye. We could at that, Darik,”

  Another sip with the thoughtful pursing of a beard with a mouth concealed somewhere within,

  ”Why not? Omara’s getting antsy just sitting around, and a bored mage is apt to start experimenting afore long. It also sounds like we could cap some of them so I can advance my current party too.”

  The man named Darik replied amicably,

  “Sounds good to me. Good luck, Nixen. Try to keep that Cato in less than three pieces and one of those alive if ya can. Won’t hear the end of it from my sister if he dies.”

  Nixen chuckled back,

  “Less than three? I suppose I can try to manage that.”

  Darik turned and walked back to his group with a wave to the dwarf, who waved back at the parting. The dwarf looked to the clerk and said,

  ”We accept. I’ll alert the rest of my party,”

  After addressing the clerk, the dwarf turned to Brynnly and said,

  ”Out front in an hour?”

  Brynnly nodded to the short adventurer,

  “Good enough, my horse should be recovered at that point. How many in your party?”

  “Four. Mage, rogue, me self, and a druid.”

  “Guild ranks?”

  “ One PC and three NPCs. I’m a journeyman. Others are all novices. The rogue is the newest behind the mage and druid.”

  Brynnly was impressed to find a journeyman in such a small outpost. He nodded with a little more respect to the dwarf.

  “Alright, in front in an hour. One more question, what’s with the bear behind the bar?”

  Nixen glanced at the bear lumbering behind the bartop, who seemed frustrated at the awkwardness of using both paws to clear the empty tankards left on the bar. He smiled to himself and responded,

  “Oh, that’s Ian. He’s the tavern bar-bear. He’s also one of our guild masters here on a short vacation. He likes to help out as he is able around here. Says it’s soothing.”

  Brynnly paused noticeably,

  “He…talks…”

  Then he visibly refrained from saying something before shaking his head and leaving the tavern. Nixen smiled and pulled a large piece of dried fruit from his pouch, tossing it to Ian, who grunted happily. The bear winked, snatched the fruit out of the air, and chewed.

  Nixen left the tavern’s common room to roust out his party. They had a job to do.