The sun hung high over Verdantia, casting its golden rays over the marble buildings and catching on the emerald rooftops of the bustling capital. The city was alive with its usual symphony of noises—merchants calling out their wares, the laughter of children weaving through the streets, and the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Today, the heart of Verdantia beat louder than ever in my ears.
I pulled the hood of my cloak lower, shadowing my face as I moved purposefully toward the Adventurer's Guild. The weight of the artifact hanging around my neck—a simple, unassuming amulet—pulsed faintly, its magic weaving an illusion over me. To the world, I was no longer Lancelot von Silvaria, heir to the Grand Duchy, but just another aspiring adventurer seeking recognition.
The guild loomed ahead, a formidable structure with stone walls carved into depictions of warriors and mages locked in eternal battle. It was a place where stories began, where reputations were forged and shattered. My heart quickened as I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the scent of ink, parchment, and mana-infused metal washing over me.
Inside, the hall was a cacophony of voices and movement. Adventurers in various states of armor and garb crowded the room, their conversations punctuated by laughter and the clink of mugs. Maps were spread out across tables, while guild clerks scurried to and fro, quills in hand. Nobody paid attention to the hooded figure who slipped inside, and that was exactly how I wanted it.
I approached the main desk where a young, sharp-eyed clerk scribbled furiously in a ledger. Her gaze flicked up as I neared, quick and assessing. For a moment, I wondered if the artifact's magic would falter under scrutiny, but her eyes slid past me as if seeing nothing of note.
"Here to register for your adventurer's license?" she asked, her voice crisp and professional.
I nodded, keeping my voice low and even. "Yes."
She gestured to an ornate pedestal set with an assessment orb, the crystal shimmering with a soft, inner light. It was an orb designed to measure the strength of one's mana core and determine their rank within the guild. I hesitated for just a heartbeat before stepping forward and placing my hand on its cool, glassy surface.
The orb's magic latched onto my mana, drawing it out in a way that felt both invasive and exhilarating. A soft hum filled the room, barely noticeable at first, but soon grew louder, catching the attention of those nearby. Conversations quieted, and eyes turned toward the orb, which glowed with an increasingly intense blue light. The silvery threads of my aura coiled within, swirling like a storm.
I felt the room shift, the weight of attention pressing against my back as whispers sparked like dry tinder.
"Who is that?"
"Look at the glow… B+-class at least."
"Must be some prodigy from another province."
The orb's light reached its peak, then slowly dimmed. I released my breath, the warmth of mana still coursing through my veins as I withdrew my hand. The clerk's eyes widened slightly, though she quickly masked her surprise.
"B+-class," she announced, her voice carrying through the hall. The murmur of conversation resumed, more animated now as eyes lingered on me, curiosity piqued but unfulfilled. No one knew who I really was, and I intended to keep it that way.
The clerk handed me a small, engraved card—my license. It bore the insignia of the guild and a false name, carefully chosen and woven into the artifact's enchantment: Arlan Vale. I tucked it into the inner pocket of my cloak, a thrill running through me at the weight of the new identity.
"Congratulations, Arlan Vale," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a polite smile. "May your path be prosperous."
I nodded, turning away from the desk, the license pressing against my chest like a promise. The room, now back to its usual rhythm, felt different. I was no longer a spectator; I was a participant, standing at the threshold of something greater.
As I moved through the crowd, I felt the whispers follow me, but nobody stepped forward to question me. I was just another adventurer, hooded and anonymous, and that anonymity was both a shield and a weapon.
I reached the door, pausing to look over the room one last time. The hall was filled with seasoned warriors and fledgling adventurers, each with their own stories, battles, and ambitions. This was where I would forge my own path, not as Lancelot von Silvaria, but as Arlan Vale, a name that held none of the weight of lineage but all the potential of the unknown.
As I stood outside the guild, the weight of the license pressed against my chest, the golden light of Verdantia bathing the streets in a warm glow. My new identity—Arlan Vale—felt strange but exhilarating. I was no longer bound by the expectations that came with the Silvaria name. Here, I could explore, grow, and, most importantly, make my own choices.
Before taking my first steps away from the guild, a thought struck me. I needed more than just a license to carve a path as an adventurer. I needed a quest—a task that would establish Arlan Vale as a capable force and test the limits of my current strength.
Turning back, I re-entered the hall. The noise and energy enveloped me again, the scent of ink and polished metal a familiar comfort. I made my way to the quest board, a massive structure that dominated one side of the hall. It was covered in parchments, each detailing a request, a plea, or a challenge, from retrieving lost heirlooms to slaying monsters that threatened trade routes.
My eyes scanned the notices until they settled on one that caught my attention. The edges of the paper were frayed, and its ink had smudged in places, but the message was clear:
**"Urgent: B-Class Beast Extermination – Roaming Razorclaws sighted near the borders of the Darkwood. High danger. Experienced adventurers only. Reward: 300 silver pieces and guild commendation."**
Razorclaws were formidable creatures, known for their speed and vicious temperament. Facing them would be no easy task, but it was exactly the kind of challenge I sought. The quest promised enough danger to test the limits of my abilities and cement Arlan Vale's reputation within the guild.
A seasoned adventurer standing nearby, an archer with a braid of red hair and a bow taller than himself, caught my glance at the notice. He chuckled, the sound rough but not unkind.
"Thinking of taking that one, are you?" he said, eyes narrowing as he took in my cloaked figure. "Those Razorclaws are no joke, even for seasoned groups. You planning to go alone?"
I met his gaze, suppressing a smile. "I am."
He raised an eyebrow, a spark of surprise mixed with amusement. "Well, best be ready. You make it back, and you'll be more than just a name on a license."
I didn't respond, only nodded. His laughter trailed behind me as I made my way to the clerk's desk to register for the quest.
The young clerk from earlier looked up, her sharp eyes scrutinizing me once more. "Back so soon, Arlan Vale?" she said, reading the name from my newly issued license. Her brow lifted as I placed the quest slip on the desk.
"Yes," I said. "I'd like to take this one."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded, taking the slip and stamping it with a wax seal bearing the guild's emblem. "Beast extermination near the Darkwood. Proceed with caution. Most who take these solo don't come back."
The warning wasn't necessary, but I appreciated it nonetheless. "Understood."
She handed me back the slip and added, "Return with proof of the kill, and your reward will be waiting."
I slipped the quest slip into my pocket and turned, feeling the shift of eyes following me again, some with curiosity, others with doubt. But I paid them no mind. This was my test, the first step into a future that belonged to me alone.
Stepping out of the guild, I took a deep breath, the air buzzing with the anticipation of the hunt. Beyond Verdantia's bustling streets lay the open road and, further still, the shadowed border of the Darkwood where the Razorclaws prowled. I tightened my grip on the spear at my side, its familiar weight grounding me. This was it—the beginning of Arlan Vale's legend.
The sun still shone brightly over the capital, but beyond its safe borders, night would soon fall, and with it, the true test would begin.