The Adventurer's Guild had been as much a part of Tearh's history as any other guild established there.
They boasted about it, too, reminding visitors in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. One of these reminders was the Oryon Obelisk, placed outside every Adventurer's Guild.
On the tall obelisk, as high as the guild building itself, were the names of voyagers, travelers, and mercenaries who had fought in countless wars and made their mark in other adventuring pursuits. The obelisk's triangular top was capped with gold, and upon it were carved the names of the guild's founders.
Henry Savoy pushed open the door, setting off a small bell. Naturally, heads turned in his direction. The friendly faces of maidens and staff welcomed him as he walked to the counter, where contracts and business were usually conducted. I say usually, because not all contracts here were strictly legitimate. Most adventurers were mercenaries, after all, and quite a few liked to dabble in trouble.
More so when there's coins involved.
"Good morning," Henry greeted, a polite smile on his face. He was trying to blend in, to avoid arousing suspicion about his status as an Otherworlder.
He was trying to blend in so as to not arouse suspicion of his status as an Otherworlder.
The woman behind the counter, dressed in a prim maid's outfit, smiled back, enthusiasm plastered on her face. "Good morning, ser! How may we serve you today?"
"I'm looking to hire a party of adventurers. I'm heading north, you see, and I've heard that public carriages aren't allowed to go there."
"Very well!" she replied, looking pleased. She reached under the counter and pulled out a form, setting it before him. "Just fill in the required fields. And please note, we require a hundred silver upfront in case of damages or other losses."
Henry blinked at the form, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he struggled to hide his irritation. The writing was strange—familiar enough that he could read it, but putting his name down here felt like handing out flyers with his face on them.
He chuckled, scratching his head. "Listen, any way I can… skip the paperwork? I'd rather keep a low profile."
She didn't flinch.
"Then, ser, maybe you should look elsewhere."
The cheer stayed frozen on her face.
Before Henry could respond, a booming voice spoke up from behind him. "We'll take your contract."
Henry turned and saw three men—rough-looking types with danger written all over them. The one who had spoken had a large scar on his cheek, and the others looked equally shady. Henry recognized the type; they practically radiated a certain lethal air he was all too familiar with.
Weighing his options, he realized he didn't have many. So he shrugged.
Why the hell not?
He made his way to their table and sat with them. Clean plates and half-drunk tankards of grape juice littered the table, though he noted it wasn't quite the same thing he carried himself—his own bottles came from royal stores, after all.
The scarred one introduced himself.
"Sorias. Former guardsman."
He looked like he'd seen his share of things, probably more than enough to have been kicked out of the guard. Henry guessed he'd broken more than a few bones and squeezed a fair amount of coin out of unsuspecting victims.
This is not the Earth he lived in.
People look rough in this place because they are one. They have no time to fashion themselves as intimidating people only to be a teddy bear on the inside. That's modern sensibility and privilege for you. Like penicillins and vaccines, people take it for granted.
Because, why—why the fuck would you want to look like the hellhorde in a place where something like it exists? It's stupidly moronic.
"This is Opusrei," Sorias continued, nodding to the lean man hunched over his drink, eyes slitted and sharp. "He makes sure that everything goes smoothly."
That's vague as hell.
Make sure everything goes smoothly?
That's like saying that you do various things as a job even though you have a proper title. Either he does nothing or he really does make sure everything goes smoothly in ways he doesn't want to tell a client.
"And you, ser?" Henry gestured towards the silent one that kept eyeing him like a piece of pork pie.
"Orsleon. I handle potions," he replied with a smirk.
Henry Savoy returned the smile with one of his own—an insincere grin he'd learned to wear for show.
He was quickly realizing that he'd have to pick up on these gestures to avoid suspicion, especially given how eager he was to leave this place. Holy Oberden was a fortress protected by a million worshippers, with knights and defenses prepared to guard their king. His desire to escape was suspicious enough; he didn't want to rouse any more doubts.
The fact that he wanted to get out of here is suspicious enough, he doesn't want to rouse one bit more.
"How much are you paying, ser?" asked Sorias.
"Hundred silver up front, and another hundred when you get me there. What's the nearest place north from here?"
"Castle Winstromme," answered Lestrum, cutting in. "We should reach it within a day, as long as there aren't… accidents of sorts."
"I'll take that," Henry really didn't.
"Good enough for me," Henry replied, though privately he wasn't so sure.
"That settles it, then. We'll leave immediately. We'll wait for you outside while gathering the necessary equipment," Sorias said, patting Henry's back as they made their way out of the guild.
Henry watched them go, noticing a group at the next table whispering about him. One of them was staring, his eyes following Henry closely. But Henry only smirked, meeting his gaze without flinching.
————————————————————————————————————————————
Many minutes had passed; Opusrei, Orsleon, and Sorias had been in the alleyway. Though, as Henry Savoy suspected, they weren't there waiting for him to be ready. They were there to ambush him and leave him blind out of luck and coins.
Sure, he didn't look like an aristocrat, but anyone willing to say they'd pay more after a job's done without bartering must've been hauling a great deal of money with them.
Sorias was standing there, alone by himself; Orsleon and Opusrei were hiding in the shadows.
Henry Savoy walked in, his gait loose and free, and the bindle he carried was not with him. Sorias, upon seeing this, grew suspicious, but before he got a word out, Henry Savoy started to speak.
"Sorias, everything's good, eh?" he smirked. "Ready to hit the road?"
"Mhm," replied Sorias, a faltering smile on his face. "Let's wait for the other two. They must've been trading for STAMINA POTION."
He spoke those last two words more clearly than the rest. It must've been a code word for when they should jump Henry Savoy from behind. Henry knew this too, because when they did not come out, he repeated those two words.
"Somethin' wrong, Sorias? Are we waiting for the two, or are we waiting for the next holiday? They seem to be taking their time to jump me."
Sorias's smile faltered even more, slipping into a hardened glare.
"What're you talking about, ser?" he growled, his voice turning rougher.
"I'm just sayin', son, the people you victimized? They must be dumb bastards. I'm not sorry for them, not in the slightest. Stamina-fuckin-potion? That's a shit trigger word. I mean, I'll give you credits. That is good, but really? Stamina potion? Why the hell would you need a stamina potion? And you don't look like you need them in a fight. You heard the saying: 'no one medicine cures all'? Also, think of somethin' unique so they don't get confused," he snickered.
Then Henry Savoy shifted to a straight posture. God damn, if this world knows of wine or any alcohol, they'd know he's drunk as a skunk.
"Let me show you an example," he stretched his arms up and yawned. "Man, we haven't even gone out to the road, and I'm beat like a DEAD HORSE!"
Suddenly, two figures stepped out of the shadows. The look on Sorias's face was worth a thousand bucks with that shit-eating grin. The thing was, they came out on Henry Savoy's words, not his, and so he was reminded of his carelessness when the figures suddenly became clear to see.
A man and a woman: one was a fighter, and the other was an assassin.
The fact that Sorias didn't even recognize their silhouettes in an instant was telling that he'd worked with others very recently. He's like a bitch; the loyalty's on the money, not the person. And like a bitch, he started to groan when he realize that he was absolutely in for a fucking that he didn't expected.
"Let me tell you something, Sorry-ass, I'm going to enjoy beating the shit out of you," Henry cracked his fists.
"W-where are they?" Sorias shouted, faltering back.
"Do not worry, they are sleeping soundly," a lady's voice echoed in the alleyway, but it didn't come from behind Henry Savoy or his two subordinates.
It was from the rooftops.
Another two were up there like vengeful angels.
"H-how did you—" Sorias quivered, almost tearing up.
"Let's just say, I got experience dealing with the unsavory kind," Henry Savoy snickered and pumped his arms forward like he was punching ghosts. "If you don't die in this alley, the rats will eat you until you are."
And then Henry Savoy, with grape wine in his system, boosting his status, started to beat the ever-living shit out of Sorias. It would go on until the man was barely recognizable.
It was a nice gesture.
At least now, the guardsmen of Oberden might not recognize him because of his new facelift. He'd have a shot again at walking down a better patch of ashes.
Though, while pummeling him, Henry knew that people don't really change that fast. Fear is a tool that anyone can use, but to rely on it for people to change? That's an oversight that leads to the afraid doing more reckless things.
It's like when you fight someone with a gun, and then you only have a sword; of course, you'd invest in a cannon so that the next time you'll get the upper hand. You'd have nothing to fear anymore.
That or either you're an absolute moron.
But, oh well, at least he wasn't the one being served a beating.