A figure opened the large, Oak doors to the Oshone Guild Hall, garnering the eyes of a few adventurers.. His brown cloak draped over his slight frame, the fabric hanging loosely as if it belonged to someone older, larger. Beneath it, his white tunic was thin and threadbare, tucked awkwardly into black pants that had clearly seen better days. The pants bunched slightly around his ankles, almost swallowing his scuffed shoes. His messy black hair bled through the hood, almost acting like a curtain over his eyes.
He was small—noticeably so. His shoulders were narrow, his limbs thin, giving him an almost fragile look. The cloak billowed slightly with the breeze, but it did nothing to hide his short stature, the way his frame seemed to shrink into itself. There was a delicate quality about him, the kind that made him look like he might be swallowed whole by the world at any moment. Yet, despite his frailty, there was a quiet determination in the way he stood, like the wind could blow him over, but it never would.
Inside, brown pillars lined the wide, open hall like sentinels, their rough surface showing years of wear from eager hands and the occasional fist. A grand staircase stood proudly in the center, its broad steps leading up to the higher floors where more seasoned adventurers congregated. Below, the ground floor buzzed with activity. Adventurers of all kinds sat at heavy wooden tables scattered throughout the room, discussing quests or laughing over tankards of ale. The clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation filled the air.
Near the far wall was the counter, long and sturdy, where guild staff handed out quests and payments. Adventurers would line up in front of the counter, eager to claim their next adventure. Behind it, boards covered with paper slips advertised quests of varying difficulty, some with urgent red stamps.
Above everything hung massive chandeliers, their dim light barely illuminating the highest corners of the vaulted ceiling, casting long shadows over the guild's many patrons. The guild felt alive, constantly shifting with the comings and goings of adventurers, each chasing glory or gold.
He could hear his name through the murmur of voices.
"Oi…is that Clive? Is that the 7th prince?"
"What is he doing outside the castle?"
"It's the bastard son…maybe King Oshone kicked him out!"
Clive did his best to ignore this and continued on with his business, almost putting his robe hood up to conceal his identity. Looking around, he tried to find what he was looking for, until a mature, sultry voice called out to him.
"You there…with the robe." Clive quickly turned to see two elf women sitting at a table. They had a mature, well-put aura around them…and he knew exactly who they were.
Tipha was first. She had an aura about her, a confidence that filled the space around her. Her purple gown clung to her form elegantly, shimmering slightly in the flickering light. The gown was intricate, its fabric swirling with dark patterns that almost seemed to move on their own. At her side hung a grimoire, old and worn, like it had seen its share of battles. And perched on her head was a wide, pointed witch's hat, its brim casting a shadow over her eyes, giving her an even more mysterious air. She was sly—sharp in a way that told you she knew more than she let on.
Beside her stood Arianna, the contrast between them stark yet somehow complementary. Arianna's blue gown was lighter, softer, adorned with delicate gold trims that shimmered gently as she moved. She had this nurturing warmth about her that made people want to open up, trust her. Her white stockings peeked out from under her gown, pristine, untouched by the grime of the adventurer's life. A tall, finely carved staff rested against her, the wood polished and engraved with ancient symbols. Unlike Tipha, her expression was gentle, her gaze soft and welcoming, as if she saw Clive for more than just the boy in front of her.
Despite being slightly plump, they still had feminine curves that would make any man go feral. They both had thick thighs and wide hips. The melons on their chests were both large, both around the same size. Tipha revealed her cleavage, while Arianna had cloth shaping hers into place. The elf called him over with her palm, breaking him from his trance.
"A-Are you Miss Arianna and Miss Tipha?" Clive said, slightly nervously.
"I believe you are the client who requested our services? What could the bastard prince need us for?" said the elf in the witch hat…until her left tit was slapped by the other elf.
"Arianna!" scolded the elf in blue. Despite trying to be angry, her soft voice just couldn't appear aggressive. "What did I tell you about professionalism towards our client?"
"...Sorry Tipha."
"Anyways…" Arianna cleared her throat cutely, "You must be Clive? I presume?"
"Y-Yes…" Clive stuttered, placing his pouch of gold on the table. He eyed both the elves, and strengthened his resolve. "I need to get to the Jules Ruins."
"Jules?" Tipha crossed her arms underneath her breasts. "Why does a royal such as you need to go there?"
"A little boy as well…if I recall, you are only eleven." Arianna added. "It is quite the dangerous journey."
"Dangerous?" Clive asked.
"We've traveled to the ruins before." Tipha took a sip of her drink as she eyed the young prince, "First, we would have to go through Elrich's Labyrinth. We can cut the traveling time by seven days. Afterwards, we traverse through The Great Mystic Forest, and finally pass the Deserts of Abyad."
"It was a transport mission for a client…and probably the hardest we've ever done." Arianna added.
Clive stopped. He had read all about these places back in the castle. His maid, or mother, had taught him to avoid these places. He recalled how she described the monsters in the labyrinth, the lack of direction in the frost, and how dry the desserts could get. However, he had come this far on his own, and wasn't about to give up. "Please!" Clive then bowed, "I am paying the both of you handsomely. I need to get to the Jules Ruins as fast as possible!"
The elf ladies looked at each other, and then back at the boy. Arianna gave her friend a little giggle, indicating that she should accept the quest. "Fine." Tipha sighed. "We will accompany you on your journey."
"To think we would work under a prince." Arianna giggled, "...and a cute one at that!"
Tipha then stood from her chair and stood above Clive, making a chill go down his spine. He stared at him, as if she was assessing him. Clive couldn't help but feel small in her presence. "While it is true that we will accompany you…what can you do?"
Clive looked down at the ground. Compared to his older brothers and sisters, he was the weakest. They all had more than enough mana, and were well versed with a weapon…but Clive? All he can do is paint better than them!
"Look at him," his half-sister's voice echoed in his head, sharp and cruel like shattered glass. "He thinks he's one of us."
"You'll never be king, you know that?" his brother had spat, eyes cold and full of malice. "You're just a bastard. A mistake."
The seventh prince shook his head to rid those thoughts. He met the eyes of the elf woman above him, and with a stern look on his face, he pulled out a small knife. On the back of his hand, a light blue emblem started to glow—The Emblem of Oshone. Whoever bares this emblem is known to be powerful in battle. Even if he may not be strong enough for the Jules Ruins, he still had to try. "Despite my blood, I am still royalty." Clive said, "I may not be strong, but I have potential." Seeing this, Tipha pulled back.
"Is that so?" Tipha scoffed, "Maybe we'll see some of that royal power, 7th prince!"
Arianna clasped her hands at the sight, "I'm sure little Clive is strong enough!"
Clive blushed due to being called "Little Clive", but it didn't matter in the end. He was finally going to the ruins. One step in his plan to gain respect and become king, had been completed. Arianna then stood up as well, picking up the pouch of gold and placing a small tip on the table. She picked up her staff and smiled at Clive. "Come, let us travel to the base of the labyrinth. The day is still young~"