Vraxious -Hopes Path

  It turned out Slev’s plan was just an inquisitorial stash that was utterly filled with everything from health potions to magic items. Among those magic items was not one but five different amulets meant to obscure you from identification; they each had a fake name and class combination attached to them.

  Vrax had gone with a low-level Ranger named Torrin; the class was woodsy-sounding, and he figured would survive a cursory glance of his rather unique appearance. Jonathan had gone with a different warrior identity even though he didn’t really need one.

  Torvald had seen the one that labeled him as a magical dressmaker and refused to go with anything else, thinking it was utterly hilarious. Now the three of them were wandering through the streets towards the adventurers guild.

  Vrax had worked out a deal with Slev he was fairly certain he was too scared to renege on. But time would tell on that one. Even if he did rat them out, he wouldn’t accomplish much; the duke and church would already know he was outside of the forsaken lands.

  Slev had also volunteered some very interesting, if confusing, information. The inquisition, at least Slev, the lantern whose name was apparently Arthur, and the actual inquisitor in this region knew his real identity and had for months. They just hadn’t shared it with his other enemies for some unknown reason. There was some kind of internal power struggle happening that was above Slev's pay grade.

  While it was good to know Vrax didn’t know how much it mattered in the grand scheme of things. People would be finding out who the paladin was sooner rather than later if they had a functioning brain and an ounce of inquisitive skills. Hell, Vrax was starting to think Vurune had pushed his stigmata skill change the way he had, not as a tool for hiding. But literally as more of a challenge to the world around him, every time Vrax fought, now if he wanted armor, the entire world would see that he was the chosen of an ancient god, and both the paladin's and Vurune's fame would grow.

  That shit, the armor upgrade, had nothing to do with keeping me safe... He wants the world to know he’s back. Well, don’t worry, Vurune; things are just going to keep escalating from here, and I'm sure by the end of it all the whole of the duchy will be talking about it. Maybe when it's all over, I'll finally just get to hide in the forsaken lands without having weekly hunting parties on my ass.

  They finally made it into the adventurers guild. It was a slow morning today, with only Borub snacking on his trademark chicken legs at the front counter. The bar held that same too-perfect elf floating mugs around the room, and a single adventuring party huddled around a table conspiratorially.

  The adventuring party looked rough. They had obviously just come from a job with no chance to clean up or rest. Noticeable claw rents covered the mishmash of armor they wore. And every single one of the four members was coated in an honestly gratuitous amount of red-black blood. Vrax cocked an eyebrow curiously. Gods, I want to go ask, but that's not why I'm here.

  Borub raised a drumstick in greeting as they made it up to the counter. Vrax skipped over the pleasantries. “I have a meeting with the guildmaster.” Borub pulled a little ledger from below the counter and looked at it, confusion coming over his face to the point that he set down his drumstick and used both hands to rifle back and forth through the greasy pages.

  Borub crinkled his face in obvious conflict over what to do. “Ahh, so the guildmaster’s schedule today is...uhhmm...taken...”

  Vrax smiled. “Tell him his appointment is here.”

  Borup looked hard at him for a second. “Give me a moment. I don’t know why his whole schedule is blacked out today, but if you are full of shit, he’s going to be pissed, and that’s on you.” Vrax nodded and settled against the counter to wait while Borub shuffled off.

  Jonathan and Trvald wandered off to read the very full quest board. Borub was back shortly, waving Vrax over to the small door with a very nervous look on his face. Vrax stepped into the simple office; it was, as always, covered in stacks of paper, and Leno looked even more frazzled than last time. “Sit,” Lento said without looking up from his furiously scribbling quill.

  Lento kept writing, a quill floating to a piece of parchment behind him, and started filling out an entirely separate form he wasn’t even looking at. I have to remember this guy is one of the most powerful mages I’ve ever met, even if he doesn’t look the part. Still without looking up, Lento addressed Vrax, and he sounded pissed. “What? Did you need to see me so urgently? I have an appointment today. This better be good, or you are going to be receiving a punitive quest and a swift kick in the ass.”

  Vrax leaned in. “Does that appointment happen to be to greet a new sovereign?” Both of Lento’s quills scratched through the paper they were madly scribbling on.

  He finally looked up in sheer surprise. “You? It’s you, how?” He stopped for a moment, reeling in his surprise to put a much more professional face on. “I mean, uhh, welcome to the Hopes Path Adventurers Guild. As our duly appointed representative, I am honored to be the first point of contact for a new kingdom. The letter I received from the king indicated that you wished to allow the adventurers guild to place a guild hall in your capital as well as make all arrangements through this branch of the guild instead of the one in the capital.” Lento finally took a breath, still looking a bit confused.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up! Now there may be some logistical difficulties; my kingdom is about a week and a half into the forsaken lands for the average person.” Vrax said calmly.

  “Pardon?” Lento said while taking notes. “Could you restate the location of your kingdom?” He was certain he had misunderstood.

  “Due east from hopes end, the abandonded elysium city I have renamed the Ravenous grove, inside the forsaken lands.” Vrax said slowly and clearly, a smile creeping its way onto his face as Lento’s frown grew further.

  “Alright then…that will certainly be…interesting…now do you have any candidates for the local guild master? The only requirement is that they be a gold or above adventurer in good standing.”

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  “Yeah! I actually have the perfect choice for that.” Vrax barely managed to say it with a straight face.

  The two of them discussed the specifics of the deal and the rules and regulations the guild would operate within. Overall it wasn’t as much as Vrax feared it would be. The guild operated very independently, and all the logistics and funding were handled on their end. All he had to do was provide them with somewhere to build and recognize their autonomy within his lands. In exchange they would follow all laws of the land and be bringing a fairly sizable number of services to his capital. As a founding guild, it would contain everything an adventurer would need in most cases, from a potion maker's shop all the way to a small blacksmith shop.

  Normally people would compete aggressively for the right to own the guild-bound shop. Having a horde of adventurers at your fingertips in a new guildhall was generally a guarantee of success if you were skilled at your trade. Lento believes finding people with the right mindset to go set up shop in the forsaken lands might take some time, however.

  They were mid-discussion on the specifics of keeping stabled horses alive with all the daisies around when there was a rather rudely violent pounding on the door. The guest didn’t wait, entering in a swirl of red and orange silks wrapped on top of garish red-dyed leather armor. Red took his hat off with panache, twirling its feathers as he made an overtly dramatic bow. “You have summoned me, oh great lento!” He said with a slightly haughty tone.

  Red hadn’t even looked at Vrax yet. Vrax encouraged this by making sure to keep facing away from him and stuck his nose farther into a pile of paperwork he was sorting through. This is going to be good.

  Lento let out a deep sigh and pushed his glasses farther up his nose before addressing Red. “You have been chosen as the Guildmaster for a new founding Guild hall.” Lento’s tone alone told a story of how bad an idea he thought that was.

  Red stuttered for a moment, then graduated to stammering as his face went from confusion to sheer pride. “I KNEW IT; my time has come and my brilliance recognized! Oh god, yes, the pension, the well-stocked bar. I won’t even have to slum it on jobs anymore unless I want to! Who has chosen me? Am I going to the islands of Islandur? “No, better yet, is it the elves? They finally caved?” He was practically ranting at this point, going through another half dozen idyllic locations and their beautiful denizens.

  Lento's slowly growing smile should have been enough to derail his increasingly outlandish daydreams, but it wasn’t. Once Red had run through all the places he could think of, Lento murdered his dreams of getting drunk on a beach surrounded by elves. “The Ravenous Grove, in the forsaken lands”

  Red’s face dropped like he had been stabbed in the heart. “Wait…” He slowly turned towards the hooded figure just to his left; his eyes met Vrax’s shit-eating smile, and his face turned into one of sheer horror. “No, goddammit, leave me be, you tree-fucking nightmare!”

  Vrax raised a hand to calm him. “But Red...think of the pension…and the prestige...and of our time together in the dungeon…” Red’s face turned crimson at Vrax’s very blatant blackmail threat; it had been Red after all that had helped him make some of the horrors for the dungeon.

  “You wouldn’t,” Red said in almost a whisper.

  “No, I probably wouldn’t,” Vrax admitted. “But you are the only candidate that would have a good idea what they are in for, and honestly, we already have some allies in common. Not to mention, think of the commission you could make off all the jobs in the forsaken lands, Red; it’s going to be a hub for platinum and gold trying to make their name.”

  Lento looked between them wordlessly questioning the exchange, but he didn’t interject. Red grumbled a bit more and took a seat. “Let me see the pay structure at least…” he finally said to Lento after a few moments of silence.

  “Good call; this is absolutely the only offer of guild master your special brand of miscreant will ever get.” Lento slid him a rather tall stack of papers to sort through.

  Vrax finished up the required paperwork and was pleasantly surprised when Red agreed after reading through his benefits. Apparently the guildmaster pay was on a sliding scale of danger, and you got a small percent of every job completed in your jurisdiction that originated in your hall. What that meant was that they were offering him a disgusting amount of money. The only other guild hall that paid this high starting was the one attached to Hell-maw Fortress.

  With that finished, Vrax asked around the hall briefly until he found where Stereos was staying. He intended to go get a room there, collect the bloodmage for the dungeon run, and finally level up. He had a stunning amount of essence to spend, and he had plans. Leveling took much more essence now that he was past his first trial, but he figured he might still have five or six levels' worth after the last stretch of adventures; hell, maybe even more.

  They all made it to an absolutely tiny inn on the outskirts of the nobles' quarter. It was more of a stubby wooden tower with a squat single-room office attached than any kind of inn that Vrax had seen before, but it was in a nice inconspicuous location, and he was a fan of the ivy crawling up the side of the building.

  They walked into the small office; it wasn't what Vrax expected. There was a tiny desk with a quill and a register, but there was also an oven and pantry jammed into the same corner. The right side of the room had a table that could hold six guests at best. And a roaring fireplace that had a roasting duck slowly spinning in the air magically within the flames.

  Stereos was sitting at the table, a few scrolls spread out in front of him and an absolutely divine-smelling platter of meat and rice on a flat board beside him. “Ah, I had wondered when our paths would cross again. Based on the rumors, you have been very busy. I hope I haven’t fallen too far behind in levels.” His words were slightly muffled by the enormous nondescript robe he wore that nearly swaddled him.

  “Good to see you too!” Vrax said affably, “Let us get settled in, and I’ll pop back down to talk to you.”

  “Oh, I am quite amenable to whatever adventure you wish for my aid in. I have become somewhat unpopular as of late due to circumstances beyond my control.”

  The innkeeper walked in a very imperious-looking elven man in a lilac-colored mage's robe. His voice was excavating and clipped. “Two silver per eve, one meal per day. Quiet guests only…” He looked at Torvald’s rather loose definition of clothing in open distaste.

  Vrax handed over the coin and began ascending the very narrow winding staircase that led up to their rooms. It was a fascinating layout; there were no floors to step off at, only four doors that led directly from the stairs to moderate-sized circular rooms. They stepped off at the top floor and settled in the room, which had accommodations for four and was obviously meant for parties.

  “Hey Jonathan, want to get a quick class change before we go into the dungeon in case we run into any more paladins?” Vrax said casually.

  Jonathan’s whole body whipped around so fast the air actually whooshed, his eyes alight with excitement. “For real, man? Like no more trial period? Not that I'm complaining; let's do this!” He said quickly.

  “Nah, no more trial period; we need to get some practice as a team. I have a fun idea to make a statement before we leave town, but we are going to need to be at our best to pull it off. Go ahead, make another oath.” Vrax gestured.

  Jonathan took a deep breath, calming his suddenly raw nerves. “I do swear to serve as a King’s Guard for the Ravenous Grove.”

  “Damn, I was expecting something more dramatic, you know, until death does my service end and such.” Vrax joked before accepting his newest and only King’s Guard.

  Jonathan’s eyes lit up in sheer joy as he obviously was reading a notification from the system. Then he dropped like a sack of potatoes, twitching wildly on the ground as his mana flared in spasmodic, uncontrolled loops.

  Torvald grabbed his twitching body and threw him into a sitting chair to ride out the changes. “He will be fine; he’s a tough fellow!” Torvald said good-naturedly and gave him a hearty slap on the back.