Dreyvon Ashenblade's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Dreyvon Ashenblade had a good sword and no rank, and the second fact made the first worthless. He stood outside the stone guild outpost and counted his coins. Eleven copper. Enough for two more nights at the inn, then nothing. He wanted his own party someday, real fighters who followed his lead. But a party needed money, and money came from guild contracts, and contracts needed a rank he had never earned. He had spent three years learning the blade and zero minutes filling out paperwork. He pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside, a brunette woman stood behind the counter, sorting quest slips into stacks. She had the tired patience of someone who dealt with hopeful swordsmen all day. Her boots were scuffed, her sleeves rolled to the elbow. She did not look up when he entered. "I want to register," Dreyvon said. "For a rank." "Name?" She kept sorting. "Dreyvon Ashenblade." Now she looked up. Her eyes moved from his sword to his face. "Ashenblade. Never seen you post a single contract. You want a rank, you take the trial." She slid a slip across the counter. "Lyria Hartwell. I hand out the work and the pay. Read that." He read it. The trial required proof of a completed hunt. A wolf pelt, marked by guild inspectors. No hunt, no rank. No rank, no paying work. "That's a loop," Dreyvon said. "I need a contract to prove myself. I need a rank to get a contract." "Most people bring their own kill to start." Lyria leaned on the counter. "Grey wolves den in the hills north of here. Unranked hunts aren't paid. But a pelt gets you a bronze rank, and bronze gets you the board." She tapped the wall of posted slips. "That's the door you're trying to open." Dreyvon looked at his eleven copper, then at the board. An unpaid hunt would cost him gear he could barely afford. It could also kill him. But it was the only way through. "How many wolves?" he asked. "One pelt. Bring it whole." She almost smiled. "Try not to die. The paperwork's worse when you do." He left before dark and spent six copper on a spear and salt for the hide. He found the pack near a split boulder in the hills. He waited until one strayed from the others, then took it with two clean strikes. The rest of the pack turned. He backed to the boulder, put stone at his spine, and held them off until they lost interest. His arm bled. The pelt did not. At dawn he dropped the wolf pelt on Lyria's counter. She inspected it, found it whole, and stamped a bronze token. "Registered," she said, and pushed the token across. "Now the real problem starts. Bronze contracts barely cover your boots. And every one is dangerous." Dreyvon closed his fist around the token. He had his rank. He also had four copper left, and a party that existed only in his head.