As Eddie glimpsed the whopping bounty of a thousand gold, he was almost tempted to out himself. But he knew all too well the peril of standing tall in a world keen to cut you down.
Why announce himself as the clandestine prodigy of the Innate Realm and paint a target on his back?
The royal family might exult in their newfound national asset, but what of the covetous neighboring empires?
They might plot his early demise, fearing his unprecedented rise to power sans mystical elixirs or mythical beasts. His potent cultivation method was an enviable secret, an alluring prize for the power-hungry.
So, discretion was the better part of valor. Until he was unmatched and untouchable, Eddie vowed to tread softly, amassing fortunes and power under the radar.
Chuckling at the thought, he adjusted his black scarf, masking his features before striding into the bustling mercenary guild. The room was thick with mercenaries, none the wiser to the fact that the masked man among them was the sought-after paragon of the Innate Realm. Drinkers clinked mugs, oblivious, and gamblers were lost in their games of chance.
In his dark attire and mysterious mask, Eddie was the spitting image of a fledgling thief — a greenhorn in the world of skullduggery. The mercenaries tightened their grip on their coin purses but otherwise paid him no mind.
"Good day, folks! Might I inquire about the process of becoming a fine member of your esteemed guild?" Eddie queried with exaggerated politeness.
In the guild's rough-and-tumble world, overt courtesy was often mistaken for weakness, an open invitation for derision and disregard. And that's precisely what Eddie was banking on.
If the world saw him as a feeble newbie, all the better for his quiet conquests. So, with a sheepish grin hidden beneath his scarf, he perfected his "oh-so-meek" impression, blending into the rowdy crowd of the guild.
Eddie approached the guild's clerk, a greasy, bald man who was the furthest thing from the welcoming committee he'd hoped for.
"To sign up, you pay, you fill out the form. For a little extra, say ten silver pieces, you can grab yourself a 'Mercenary Star Badge' to track all your heroic deeds and bumps in rank," the man droned on, eyes glinting at the prospect of a sale.
"I, um, can't actually write," Eddie fibbed, dropping a silver coin on the counter. "Could you help me out? I'll make it worth your while." He was cautious, mindful of the myriad talents that could undo his anonymity with something as simple as recognizing his handwriting.
The clerk, used to the brutish and often illiterate clientele, raised an eyebrow but saw an easy mark. "Three silver pieces if you want my help," he grumbled, seizing the chance to fleece the rookie.
Eddie, inwardly rolling his eyes at the man's greed, continued his charade of vulnerability. "Three? That's a bit much. Let's settle on two, please? It's all I can manage right now," he pleaded, the very picture of innocence.
Laughter echoed around them as the guild's regulars enjoyed the scene, finding amusement in the old man's shakedown of the fresh-faced newcomer.
The mercenary guild's penchant for newcomer hazing was practically an institution. But as the clerk prepared to fleece Eddie further, a lithe figure with incisive, gleaming eyes and a masked countenance stepped through the doorway.
Swiftly commandeering the pen and paper from Eddie, he reprimanded, "Two silvers for a bit of writing? Did a mule impart wisdom to you? This fella's paid to help the letterless! With such naivety, you're bound to be a starved thief. Now, out with it—what's your name?"
"Helping me? Oh, brother, my heartfelt thanks!" Eddie replied, overflowing with concocted gratitude and arms wide open for a hug.
"Stop right there, or you'll be flying out the door... Spit it out, what's your name?" the sharp-eyed thief snapped back, clearly irked by the 'brother' address.
"Name's Titan," Eddie said, a tinge of regret in his voice for the missed embrace. He subtly moved closer, inhaling the alluring scent emanating from the 'brother'—a fragrance reminiscent of a mythical virgin's allure.
On the outside, he was the picture of composure, but embarrassingly enough, something was decidedly less stoic.
"Titan? That's an unusual moniker... Seems I've heard it somewhere before," the thief mused, furrowing his fine brows in contemplation.
"Titan refers to a group of dwarfs, you see, quite small and utterly unsuccessful. After their defeat, they were cast into the abyss of Titan Hell," Eddie explained with a twinkle in his eye.
"But why would you choose such a name associated with failure?" the keen-eyed thief queried, sensing something amiss in Eddie's account.
With a laugh that hinted at inner pride, Eddie responded, "Exactly because the Titans were defeated, I want to remember it as a lesson — a constant reminder to myself never to follow in their footsteps."
The thief, lost for words at such a bizarre justification, quickly filled in the form with a dismissive snort, listing name, gender, and profession. "And how old are you?" he asked, trying to get through the task at hand.
Eddie pondered for a moment then replied earnestly, "Two hundred, a bachelor for ages, forever in search of a girlfriend. I'm not picky—just seeking someone angelic in appearance, with the right curves in all the right places."
The guild erupted in laughter at his audacious requirements—a hapless frog dreaming of a celestial meal.
"You wouldn't want her to love you for a millennium while you're at it?" the thief retorted, rolling his eyes.
"Millennium? That's merely the starting point. A hundred millenniums would be preferable, and a million wouldn't be excessive!" Eddie stated, undeterred by the ridicule.
The thief, unable to take any more of his nonsense, sent him flying with a punch, grumbling about wasting time with a madman.
Eddie, however, remained in high spirits, patting the thief's shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks, brother! Your words, 'love your head', are quite profound—direct and forthright, as a true man's love should be! But how about 'kiss my face' instead?"
" I'll be sure to use it in my next romantic pursuit. And since the form is done, let's grab some late-night grub. There's a new girl at the tavern east of town with a figure that's the talk of the town. Come on, let's have a drink and maybe a little flirt."
"What's a soccer ball?" The thief, bewildered yet intrigued by Eddie's modern lingo, couldn't help but inquire.