Chương 7: 03-3: New Clothes, Work, and Obligations

I brought Lucas—looking fragile enough to collapse at any moment—into the tavern. The door swung open onto a wall of sensation: acrid smoke from cheap tobacco, the sour reek of over-fermented ale, and something distinctly unpleasant drifting from whatever passed for a latrine in the corner. The whole place seemed to have been marinating in alcohol, sweat, and bad decisions for decades. The patrons matched the atmosphere.

Mercenaries, cart drivers, day laborers, men with the look of deserters, and several individuals who clearly preferred not to explain their income sources—all crammed together, loud and restless as beasts penned in a bog. I left Lucas at the counter to handle tonight's lodging and pushed through the fog of alcohol fumes and profanity toward a corner that looked, improbably, as if it had been blessed by different gods entirely. The Adventurers' Guild counter. The surface was actually clean.

Documents arranged with precision that had no business existing in this establishment. Behind the counter stood a young woman with golden hair, wearing a crisp, standard-issue uniform, her professional smile calibrated to exact specifications. The moment I approached, she spoke in a voice where every syllable had clearly been trained:"Welcome. Is this your first time visiting the Adventurers' Guild?" Honestly, that perfectly measured tone gave me an unwelcome flash of the castle stewards back home.

Same energy—just missing the silver candelabras and carpets, replaced with the ambient scent of horse manure. I pushed all three identification plaques across the counter.

"We'd like to register as adventurers." She looked down. When her gaze landed on Lucas's Imperial Academy plaque—the one that caught light with that faint, unmistakable gleam—the professional mask cracked for just a moment.

"All three of you... as adventurers?" She looked up at me, expression clearly wrestling with the unspoken question: Why is an Imperial Academy apprentice mage traveling with two people who look half-starved? I didn't answer. Instead, I reached into the hidden inner pocket of my armor and set another piece of metal on the counter. The Rosa border crest plaque. Heavy material, worn at the edges, but the engraving at the center still irritatingly clear.

"I'm from the border territories," I said, keeping my voice flat.

"I'd also like to apply for noble obligation service offset." Her eyes moved between the crest plaque and my face twice. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted—noticeably more careful.

"Of course. Would you like me to explain the regulations?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"No need." I pocketed the crest plaque, my mouth pulling into a shape I didn't particularly like on myself.

"I know these rules better than my own family genealogy." That wasn't an exaggeration. Children of border noble families had this drilled into them from the time they could read. How to fulfill obligations, how to offset them, how to provide men, horses, and blood on behalf of your domain. It was just that when I'd memorized all of it, I'd never once imagined I'd be sitting in a place reeking of stale ale, using it to buy myself a meal. She asked nothing further.

Efficiently, she produced three dark-violet metal plaques and slid them across the counter. The surface was rough—like something smelted from industrial waste and stamped with the guild mark. Simple, but legible.

"Please carry these at all times. They serve as tax exemption proof at checkpoints." A brief pause.

"They cannot be pawned, transferred, or used as collateral of any kind. Please keep that in mind."

"Understood." I picked up the three cold, rough plaques, and sat with a feeling I couldn't quite name. These were our papers now. Our license to scratch a living out of the mud. No glory. No dignity. Only whether you survive.

"The bounties on the left wall are for senior adventurers—usually monster subjugation." She gestured briefly, then indicated the opposite wall, plastered with yellowing papers.

"For first-time registrants, I'd recommend starting on the right. Manual labor, short escort runs, or town cleanup would be more appropriate." The practiced smile returned.

"I wish you the best of luck." Coming from a guild clerk, that always sounded suspiciously like: "Try not to die too quickly." By the time I returned to our corner table with three new iron guild tags, Jessi had just arrived back as well. She'd changed into secondhand but intact dark clothing, topped with an ill-fitting short coat, and a far more respectable short blade hung at her waist. Her hair was tied back loosely.

She'd successfully upgraded from feral child about to be arrested for vagrancy to obvious trouble, but at least clearly alive. She dropped into her seat, crossed her legs, and spun the new blade in front of me with undisguised satisfaction.

"Well? Feel like your investment was worth it?"

"At least now people won't assume I kidnapped a half-frozen street urchin the moment we walk in somewhere."

"Hey, is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"For you? Yes." Jessi clicked her tongue in mock offense, but didn't actually bristle. Lucas sat clutching his battered staff, still pale as a dehydrated plant. He watched us bicker, seemed to consider saying something, then settled for a sip of water that had long since gone cold. I dropped the three guild tags on the table. The sharp clatter drew both their eyes immediately. I drew a breath, speaking in the tone of someone announcing a natural disaster.

"Listen carefully. Our total remaining fortune consists of one large silver coin, plus some scattered low-grade silver and copper scraps." The amusement on Jessi's face faded slightly. Lucas went visibly rigid. I tapped the table, making the three new iron tags rattle harshly.

"Inn plus stables costs one large silver per day, fixed. Which means—" I looked at each of them in turn.

"If we haven't earned money before sunset today, tomorrow we're sleeping in the stables." Two seconds of silence. Then Jessi spoke first. She propped her chin in both hands, blinked with perfect innocence, and asked with complete sincerity:"If we sleep in the stables, at least the horses won't complain about your branding iron being too hot, right?"

"Jessi." I looked at her without expression.

"Say that one more time today and I will actually tie you to the feeding trough."

"Ooh—so scary." She said it cheerfully, smiling wider than before. Lucas looked at me, then at Jessi, then added in a tone of earnest academic gravity:"Technically, stables do maintain superior insulation compared to open-air shelter. From a survival efficiency standpoint—""Shut up." We said it simultaneously. Another brief silence fell over the table. I pressed my fingers to my temple and exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of a very bleak future.

And yet, somehow, with these two making noise around me, complete despair kept slipping just out of reach. I dropped my hand and looked back toward the wall of commission sheets.

"Right. We find work."

"Otherwise tonight we really are sleeping with the horses." And strangely, the thought that hit hardest wasn't we need money fast. It was— Please don't let Jessi come up with any new jokes in the stables.