1st month, 6th day, 968

  Maera

  Finally, after a long and gruelling trek, I reached it - yes, it was a familiar enough sight though I’d only seen it once: The town at the crossroads called Four-Ways. I wondered if my gamble had worked, or if Red Lightning was waiting for me there…what would I do, then, ask them nicely to let me go home? They seemed very hesitant to let me go back - five words, just five, from the mouth of the twin-tailed witch, echoed in my mind.

  I clicked my tongue and pushed them out. The first thing I needed to do was earn some money, somehow - yes, I needed just a handful of copper or silver coins, I thought, to make a compass. Then, if I could just get my hands on a map of Alta Ferra I’d be able to navigate back home. But just how was I going to do that?

  “Four-Ways lies at the intersection of many roads; to Harrowind, to the eastern lands, to Alta Ferra and Ravendale,” The skunk-haired poet had said. “It gets so much traffic, that the Adventurer’s Guild even saw fit to build a main branch here!”

  Adventurers make lots of money, don’t they? I’d slain enough of their ilk to know that they’re generally equipped with powerful magic items and high quality weapons. If I joined the guild, I could earn enough to buy supplies for the rest of my journey home - and gain some valuable information about them while I’m at it, ah, father will be most pleased! That settled it - soon I was at the very front yard of the sprawling adventurer’s guild compound.

  While I went into the main building, Misty needed to wait for me in the stables outside; a fair rule, even trained animals can make a mess. The doorman led me inside and escorted me straight to the registration counter. The receptionist was a half elf like myself, but with light blue hair; she greeted me strangely, a beautiful, familiar, but ultimately mysterious language.

  “Huh? Sorry…I don’t understand.”

  She tilted her head, “You don’t speak elvish?”

  I shook my head. “My mother, she died when I was little. I’ve known no other elves until recently. My father is human.”

  “Aww…your parents must have loved each other very much then. I am sorry for your loss though.”

  I suppose, as much as a powerful lord and his mistress are capable of love. I wonder why she would make that assumption.

  “I, uh, thank you.” Being polite takes effort, gah! “But can we start the-”

  “Oh, you’re right, my apologies for getting sidetracked!” She smiled and handed me a large rectangle of paper. “Please fill this out! If you can’t write, we have a pattern mage who can impart the skill on you temporarily.”

  I could write a little, though I was largely self-taught. I said “I won’t need help with that. Er, is there a fee or something for joining?”

  “There is, but if you can’t pay up front your registration fee is actually subtracted from your payouts until it’s been covered. So you’ll pay it off faster if you’re more of a go-getter.”

  I grinned, yes! Going, getting, that’s what I do best. Let me see here…name, better use an alias, the receptionist said it was okay. Um, the eastborn form of my name would be Maeko? Sure. Surname, er, well not that I know my real one how about…Kuroyama, after that big black mountain the skunk-haired poet spoke of. Home country, um, I’ll say Alta Ferra. Age…huh…that’s another hard one, just how old am I anyroad…and why haven’t I thought about it before; I put unknown. Race, half-elf. They weighed me and took my measurements so I didn’t need to fill those out.

  The receptionist was kind enough to explain the rest of the form. Let’s see…healer, defender, mixed-attacker, melee striker - that last one sounds about right.

  “I um…I also use a little magic - I can bend metal and do some things with shadows…harden my own armor, heat and shape metal…I can’t do anything flashy like shoot fire. It takes a really long time but, I can also heal my own wounds a little - it isn’t much use in a pitched battle.”

  “Self-support magic isn’t uncommon,” the receptionist said. “Depending on your existing skills you might qualify for duskblade or hex-blade classification - but we can do a deep dive on that together after the assessor’s done its magic.”

  “A-all right.”

  I sat on a stool and she stuck a damn pot on my head. I think it read my mind like a book or something. It was disorienting. I heard the sound of machinery.

  “Congratulations Miss Kuroyama, you’ve earned quite a few achievement patches already - you must be quite a formidable swordswoman to have gotten this much!”

  That…a compliment from someone I just met…I didn’t know how to react. She handed me these cloth patches and explained most of them.

  Underdog, Heroic, Primal Master, 1-Year Tour, 5-Year Tour, Solo Slayer I, Solo Slayer II, Survivor, Critical Assist, Clever Combatant, Guile, Narrow Escape, Family Apprentice, Apex Bond, Wanderer, Wilderland Camper, Wilderland Survivor, Wilderland Hermit, WIlderland Resident, Dark Tower Climber, Danger Dorm, Fortress Fixture, Child of the Dark Citadel, Daring Defender, Reckless Protector.

  I hoped this thing didn’t tell her that most of my kills had been adventurers - and it seemed like the device was completely unaware. I see, the guild doesn’t care who you were before you joined, is that it? It seemed that they assumed I’d been in a mercenary company or something.

  The receptionist saved one in particular for last: “Primal Master, you get that for taming a primal beast - will you be adventuring with a companion animal?”

  “Who, Misty? Yeah, I almost never go anywhere without her. Other than that, I don’t have a party of any sort - is adventuring alone allowed?

  The receptionist nodded, “Yes, but you’d only be eligible for wood-ranked jobs…but, if you have an animal companion you can go after iron-ranked ones too - we’ll need to assess her for suitability, of course, we can’t have another incident like that mage that tried to pass off a beagle as a combat animal. But if this Misty’s a primal beast of some sort I’m sure she’ll fit right in!”

  The receptionist had me lead her outside to the pen Misty was staying in - she was actually doing pretty well.

  “Ah, my my, aren’t you just darling!” the receptionist said, towards Misty. “Black Reaper if I’m not mistaken. Miss Kuroyama, if you’d be so kind as to put the assessor on Misty’s head - just so she knows it’s safe - I’d be much obliged.”

  I did as instructed - I really was learning a lot about guild operations. I had much to report on already. Misty complied as I slipped the assessor cap over her head - a few moments later…

  “Oh wow,” the receptionist said, “You’re quite tough I see, and so intelligent! Miss Kuroyama, how long has Misty been able to mimic your powers?”

  Huh? “What do you mean?”

  “According to the beast assessor, your Dreadrunner has earned the Just Like You, patch - which means your bond is so strong that she’s become capable of using some of your own innate magic. You didn’t know?”

  “No, not at all.” Though now that I was thinking about it, I had wondered how Misty had snuck right up to the tent I’d been held up in. “Misty…could it be that you’ve been using my shadow concealment by yourself?”

  Sometimes I wondered if she really could understand my words, or perhaps she read my intentions, either way, she seemed to give a cry of affirmation. Strange, it was almost as though I could feel what she was feeling. There was so much I didn't understand, so much I had to learn about myself. Ever since my defeat at Swan's Crossing that's become more abundantly clear.

  “Misty, um, hide.” I commanded.

  To my surprise, when she moved into one of the stalls, and crouched, almost immediately her body began to blend into the shadow cast by the wall and roof of the stable. My eyes widened, followed immediately by my mouth.

  “I had no idea she could do that.” I said, truthfully, staring at her in wonderment. “I'll need you to be a good girl for a while here.”

  Misty vocalized her approval, and the receptionist led me back inside. Once I had my guild ID card, and that little wooden medallion it was time to get some work!

  ***

  The common room of the guild hall was built like a big tavern - lots of people were eating, drinking, and congregating around a set of four wooden boards creating a pillar in the center of the room. I didn’t have money for food, so I figured I’d look for work immediately. So, this is a job board - this is how adventurers decide what to do, is it? Perhaps now I can find out exactly why so many of them see fit to intrude upon my father’s lands. I wasn’t alone looking at the board, as there were a number of parties on all four sides debating with each other who would take which jobs.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  One party in particular stuck out…a human fighting-man, a cat-eared woman with a staff, an older man wearing a priestly robe, and a wolf-eared boy with boiled leather armor. They’d have gone beneath my notice had I not overheard their conversation.

  “Hey, look!” said the fighting-man. “This one’s bronze rank.”

  “You’re right! We should take it on!” Said the cat-ears.

  I glanced at the paper that party was pointing to: “WANTED: The Darklord of Dreadmoor.” Huh? What is this? I’m sure my father’s made a lot of enemies so this shouldn’t surprise me, but, bronze rank? That’s…that’s insultingly low! That said, this sure as the hells explains why I keep having to deal with adventurers. No wonder I can never be rid of them!

  A creaky, old-sounding laugh came from one of the nearby tables, and then a voice, with a strange accent I’d never heard before.

  “Fools, amateurs, and might I add, amateurish fools!” The voice had come from an old-looking human with a scruffy white beard, a patch over one eye, some sort of long coat, and a curved sword hanging at his belt. “One does not simply walk into Dreadmoor, matey. The moor-wraith will get ye long afore ye even reach the Darklord’s domicile.” He pointed, vigorously, and I could swear lightning struck behind him as he shouted “BEWARRRRE!”

  The fighting-man clicked his tongue, “You’ve had enough to drink, old man MacReady - the moor-wraith is an unconfirmed rumor at best.”

  The old man shook his head, “It be no mere legend, boy! Take it from an old sailor. The moor-wraith is death incarrnate, a bein’ o’ purre terrorr. And furthermore,” He shook his fist, “That’d be Captain Silas MacReady, to you, landlubber!”

  “What does salty sea dog like you know about anything what goes on this far inland?”

  “I know plenty, boy. I dinnae spend all me time at sea, no, and at every parrt I keep mah earrs open…and I hear very int-arresting things, lad. Fer instance, have ye perhaps harrd of the Red Lightning.”

  I flinched. I knew I had. The old man went on a long tirade about them and most of what he said was accurate, apart from him thinking they were still tin rank; they’d told me themselves they had just achieved copper rank. That led me to believe that the strange old sailor was being truthful. The moor-wraith sounded dangerous - I thought perhaps I should learn more, warn father about it. I knew of no undead in the Dreadmoor; most of the monsters there were reptiles or insects. Oh, and very large rodents too.

  “Um,” I said, “What can you tell me about this moor-wraith?”

  Silas turned to the adventurers and indicated to me, “See, laddies, this wood-rank newblood lass has more sense than ye! Well, lassie, allow me to enlighten thee…the moor-wraith is the real reason why the Darkl-arrd o’ Dreadmoorr has yet to be brought to justice.” Justice? How dare he! Wait, I mustn’t overplay my hand here: patience, Maera. “Nobody has everr seen it up close and lived to tell the tale - survivors speak of a shadowy rider cloaked in mist, capable of runnin’ doown even the fastest harrse. Most of the time, there is no body left - but when there was remains, they werre torn to bloody rags - shredded to pieces, coverred in deep jagged gouges.”

  The old man’s face turned grave, “Many brave a’venturerrs have fallen to tha moor-wraith. It all starrted some seven or so yearrs ago, when a group of either iron rank-errs venturred into the Dreadmoor for to hunt the Darklord…seven were mercilessly slaughtered, the other sarrvived by some miracle…he saw it, a black riderr ‘pon a monstrous steed.”

  Huh, seven years? That’s about the time father started to let me go patrol the swamp. Now that he mentions it, I did run into some trouble on my first tour didn’t I? I only remember fighting seven of them. Misty took care of some of them, but the rest fell to my blade - that was when I learned that if I make my sword heavier by concentrating on it at the last moment of a downward swing, it would hit harder; I was so excited!

  A tall human man with an apron came to pick up some plates on the table.

  “My cousin was killed by the moor-wraith,” he said. “He was in an adventuring party called the Blue Budgies. They always wore these tacky blue uniforms, but, they were good people. Such a shame - he said once he had the Darklord’s head he’d retire. But. ours is a risky profession and he knew that; he also knew the legend of the moor-wraith and was always hoping he could meet it in battle - he got his wish.”

  Hold on. Wait. Blue uniforms…Why did that description sound so familiar? I don’t-

  “Did someone say moor-wraith?” Came another voice, this one from a man of the rabbit-ears beastfolk. “DId it get someone else today? Hoo-boy, I’m surprised there ain’t an official quest for it yet! That Moor-wraith is mighty powerful!”

  The man with the apron shrugged, “As far as anyone can tell, the moor-wraith has never attacked any towns or menaced any caravans. Guild won’t step in until it becomes a problem.”

  Another person, a woman with pink hair and pointed ears like mine said “Oh, I had a close encounter once, never went back to the Dreadmoor-”

  “That moor-wraith sure does a great job protectin’ its master I tells ya!”

  “I hope the Darklord pays him well, he’s good.”

  This went on for a while…slowly, something began to fall into place in my mind. Like, I dunno, little pieces of a picture that had been sundered into a thousand pieces and scattered randomly. There they were, the more they talked, the more their words interacted.

  They were talking about me.

  I’m the moor-wraith.

  The people here, they feared me - no, wait, though they speak of me as a being of terror, they’re…praising me? These total strangers, were speaking of my combat prowess in a positive way…speaking of my effectiveness in combat…commending the way I defended my home. Even though friends of theirs, relatives, had all fallen to my blade - they respected me. I almost started laughing, or was I about to cry? I was receiving more praise from total strangers than I ever had from my own father. Complete strangers who, by all accounts, should hate me…were saying kinder things than my own family.

  Gah! That said, the sheer volume of praise was overwhelming. I couldn’t take it anymore - I snagged four random jobs right off of the board and rushed to the reception desk. It was still relatively early in the morning so I thought I could get some of them done. Three of them were wood-ranked and one was iron-ranked.

  The wood-ranked jobs were little more than physical labor and I handled them without much trouble. I cleared the muck out of a horse stable; child’s play compared to cleaning up after Hellbiter’s massive droppings. I found an old woman’s silver locket by using another of my powers: if there’s metal nearby, I can concentrate and feel for it. Gah! She even hugged me, offered me pie, and called me her hero. We organized and cleaned an old barn that someone had just inherited; it was full of tools and some of them were in such pathetic shape that I also cleaned off the rust and repaired them with my metal magic - the place was practically sparkling when we left.

  The iron-ranked job, now that one was a bit more interesting. There was a gang of highwaymen on the east road, rumored to be striking out from a hidden lair in the forest. Once we were done with the wood jobs we ate and set out immediately; in an hour or so we found the remains of a wagon that had recently been attacked, as described in the “posting”, as they called it. There were tracks leading into the woods; but we didn’t need to follow them, because Misty caught the scent of their owners - never once has Misty failed to catch her prey and this time was no exception.

  I don’t know how long we were searching, but it was nearly night time by the time we spotted their camp; fortified behind a palisade of wood, and fairly well hidden. Unfortunately for these outlaws, I’d surveyed enough of my father's outposts in the swamp to know what to look for when seeking out hidden encampments.

  I could hear the sounds of poorly played instruments and laughter; they were celebrating, unaware of the doom that awaited them. Cloaked in the shadows of the trees we stalked around the perimeter. Two of their patrolmen fell to talon and steel - followed by the two guards at the entrance of the encampment.

  The celebratory clamor I’d heard had died down, yes, this was the perfect opportunity. I beckoned Misty to follow me as I walked into the camp with my weapon drawn. As suspected most of the highwaymen were already in their tents, with just a few still outside; Misty and I made short work of them. The two men playing with dice never saw Misty coming, and the man drinking out of a wineskin wasn’t expecting a blade in the gut. The remaining eight were either asleep or halfway there when Misty and I burst into their tents and put them down.

  After taking care of the outlaws I searched the camp for the stolen cargo we were supposed to recover, which I found easily. There were other valuables, too, so I stuffed most of it into Misty’s saddlebags - then I stuffed the rest of it in there too. Ah, then I realized that the bandits had usable weapons and armor so I took those too. Once that was done, I saw that they still had a great deal of foodstuffs…I didn’t want it to go to waste so I scooped up all of that as well; plus the alcoholic beverages.

  I hadn’t been more than a few paces away from the gate of the encampment when I realized it would be a shame to just leave all of the tents, bedrolls, backpacks, pitons, lengths of rope, cups, plates. Oh, they also had some horses - the poor things would starve if I left them alone, so I hitched them up to Misty and loaded more of the goods I found on them. By the time I was finally satisfied, there was scarcely anything left…indeed, I spent the night there and in the morning light I found that there wasn’t anything else to pack up.

  Huh. I wondered why I’d been so thorough, strange. I didn’t pay much heed to the whys of it, I just led all of the animals away from that place and back to Four-Ways. When I got back to the adventurer’s guild, everyone was surprised - it seemed like nobody expected me to take on an entire camp by myself. I objected of course, I hadn’t done it by myself: I had Misty!

  “So um,” I said, “Were these quests enough to cover my registration fee?”

  The pale receptionist said, “C-cover your…? Miss Kuroyama, they advanced you clear into iron rank!”

  I tilted my head, “Is that a good thing?”

  She nodded, “Y-yes, it’s just unexpected of someone who only registered yesterday. C-congratulations on your advancement!”

  I smiled, genuinely, though I didn’t fully understand why that made me feel so good. I could get used to this, I thought…but then there came the nagging truth, that I really shouldn’t.

  Once that was settled I went to find buyers for all the goods I’d plundered from the bandit encampment which took me almost the entire day. At the end I checked myself into an inn and counted my earnings…I froze in absolute shock when I realized that I was now carrying over a thousand gold crowns. Even after the guild’s cut, even after taxes and things like that…oh right, I’d sold all of those weapons, and broken down the poor quality armor into steel ingots which I sold to a blacksmith. But what was I going to do with all the food and booze? I couldn’t eat it all by myself.

  “Might as well share it, I suppose…but how?”

  Ah-ha! I realized that the guild hall tavern was probably still open, and many of the adventurers who’d heaped such praise on my head were probably still there. I took all of the beer, the liquor, the sausages, the bacon, the raw meat, and brought it to the guild commons - I had intended to just drop it all off as a gift, but instead I accidentally triggered a raucous post-victory party: and I was suddenly the guest of honor.

  I won’t even try to deny that it was the most fun I’d ever had in my life; yes, even more than running around with Misty when we were little. The singing, the drinking, the stories, everything about it was just indescribably joyful; I forgot all about my troubles and cares for just one night and it was glorious. I even got called beautiful multiple times, which felt nicer than it should…or just as nice as it needed to, I don’t know these things. At the end of the night I was pretty tired and not nearly as drunk as I thought I’d be.

  I fell asleep, soundly, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  Maera's Getting Her own Classification: Which sounds cooler?