85 - Thief

After the quest board, Darian escorted her over to the bronze rank looking-for-group board. There wasn’t much to describe, truthfully, with the purpose being rather self-apparent, but Sable looked curiously through a few postings. By far the most common requests were for healers of any sort—whether paladin or priest or even someone with only minor healing abilities—but mages were a close second.

“Like I said, you won’t have any problem finding a group as a mage,” Darian said. “You’ll want to look at the silver-ranker’s hall, but it’s the same deal, there. Just with, you know, silver rank postings.”

Sable scanned a few more of the papers pinned into the board, then nodded. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I do have one more question.”

“Sure. Don’t feel rushed. I don’t have much going on today, honestly.”

“The Slayer’s Guild. How does it work?”

“Joining, or what they are?”

“Joining.”

“They’ve got their own entrance examination, but they work on the same system as the Guild. They are the Adventurer’s Guild, still, technically speaking. Just their own little clubhouse, too.” He shrugged. “Pretty sure the test is the obvious—hunting down some monster to qualify. You thinking of joining?”

“Maybe.”

“If I were you, I’d think hard about that. There’s pros, but also plenty of cons.”

“Like?”

“Well, the pay is way better, as I’m sure you know, but progress through your class is slower in return. Dungeons are just flat out the quicker way to level. Specially as you get to the higher ranks, I’ve heard finding targets becomes a headache. Longer travel times, too. Regular adventurers can just hunker down in a city and learn the same few dungeons, so there’s no running between provinces, constantly on the hunt.” He scratched his cheek sheepishly. “Of course, Slayer’s are doing good work. Saving lives. I mean, we gotta clear dungeons to prevent overflows too, but that’s a far-off problem, where monsters terrorizing cities is a real, immediate issue. It’s an honorable profession—but you should still think about whether it’s right for you.”

“You can do both, though?”

“Sure. There’s hardly anything stopping you. Just, most slayers tend to be slayers only. Maybe they’ll do a few dungeons here and there, but they don’t want to stray from their path.”

Darian didn’t just mean that from a philosophical standpoint, Sable knew. How one behaved and the goals they worked toward literally affected one’s class—the skills they received. So people in the Slayer’s Guild tended to only hunt surface monsters so that they sculpted their class to be best suited toward that goal.

Special abilities like [Big Game Hunter]—as a made-up example—were another reason Sable was so wary of the Slayer’s Guild. A Slayer who had honed their path to kill strong surface monsters, like dragons, were especially a threat to her. She didn’t know how much, though. Which was the point of her being here; by making a few contacts, she might be able to learn just how threatening that sort of specialized class would be to her.

“That makes sense,” Sable said. “That’s all I have, right now. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem.” The brown-haired boy hesitated. “Hey, I know you’re said you’re not interested in grouping, but I was wondering if you wanted me to show you around the city? It can be kind of chaotic, here, if you’re new.”

By this point in the conversation, Sable was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining Darian’s interest being more than professional—not that he was being rude about anything. “I’ll be busy these next few days,” Sable said, “and I’m not sure whether I’ll be staying for long in the first place. But, again, thank you for the help.”

Fortunately, he didn’t take the rejection poorly; he just nodded and grinned sheepishly, as if he’d had to at least try. “Well, good talking, then. Hope to see you around, Ivory.”

“You as well.”

With a wave, the adventurer departed. He rejoined a table at the far end of the room, and laughter erupted from his friends when he sat. Sable could probably eavesdrop in, considering her supernatural senses—and maybe they had done the same, hence the laughter—but she decided against it. Instead, she headed to the receptionist. She had to organize her qualification exam for joining the Guild. A few quick questions later, and she replied:

“They’re held every two weeks,” the blonde woman said. “Last one was just yesterday, actually, so it’ll be a bit before the next comes up.”

Sable frowned at the development. “Is there a way to speed that up? A private exam, maybe? I can pay.” She didn’t know exactly how rich she was, but Roman had indicated not to a small degree; she was at least the equivalent of minor or moderate nobility. Using coin to accelerate slow processes was something she would be doing a lot of; it was why Roman had insisted the two of them bring so much with them.

The receptionist paused, then said, “Yes, that’s possible, though not standard. You’d have to talk with one of the Guild’s administrators.”

“Can you help me arrange that? A meeting?”

Over the next minute, Sable hashed out the details. She would have to return in a few hours; the man who would be Sable’s best shot for organizing a private exam wasn’t at the Guild, currently, but the receptionist said she’d let him know when he got back.

With her business at the guild finished, Sable set off into the city. She was actually growing hungry, and with most of her future goals delayed to the evening—since she couldn’t even enter the silver-rank guildhall and look for potential teammates until she was a member—she had a few hours to blow.

She made her way to the commercial district and shortly into an inn for her first meal. She followed up quickly at a second inn and a second meal, then a third and fourth. At each of the establishments, she ate enough for incredulity to show plainly on the faces of the staff serving her plates. Her transformation into a human form reduced her appetite—since eating entire livestock was obviously something a human simply couldn’t do in a reasonable time frame—but she still needed much more food to feel satiated than a regular human would.

While somewhat an inconvenience, she was at least pleased to be sampling the cuisine of another world. Most of it mirrored Earth’s—specifically European, as much of this society seemed analogous to—though even the dishes she recognized were much better than she was used to. Sable suspected that was equal parts natural talent as classes helping things along. Chefs empowered by fantastic abilities could obviously create dishes that were stunning compared to their mundane counterparts, and Sable very much enjoyed herself as she sampled the food of several inns.

Finally feeling somewhat satiated—though maybe she’d stop by one or two more if something caught her eye—Sable departed her fourth establishment, leaving a group of impressed and incredulous patrons and staff behind. She headed down the busy streets, intending to take a look at the market while she waited for the Guild examination officer to return.

She forged forward through the crowd, some parts of the city so packed to be crammed nearly shoulder to shoulder—which was irritating, but tolerable.

Sable wouldn’t have called herself the most aware person in her old life, but neither had she lived somewhere she needed to worry much about pickpockets. That lack of experience didn’t matter in face of her massively boosted stats; though she sometimes didn’t notice it, she had an amazing passive awareness, a result of her grace stat, and so when a body jostled against hers—a normal enough thing in the packed streets of a major city—she felt instantly when a hand tried to slip inside her robes, headed for her purse.

Considering she was wearing robes and not standard clothing, she couldn’t help but feel a flash of amusement at the thief not picking easier prey. At the same time, Sable’s attire likely marked her as someone wealthier than typical; adventurers were more likely to be carrying an impressive payday than some random civilian. Though, that came with higher risk, too.

Then again, maybe the thief expected a mage, which she clearly presented as, to be more susceptible than a physical based class. They’d gotten unlucky in that appraisal, if so. She had far greater magic capabilities than physical ones, but her half-dragon race afforded her much more strength and dexterity than a human mage.

Her hand shot out, catching the smaller person who’d bumped into her, clamping down on their wrist as they tried to scurry away—having tried to withdraw almost as fast as Sable herself had reacted. Not because the thief had similar stats, Sable knew, but because she’d been distracted and her reaction had been delayed.

In her instinctive grab, Sable forgot to fully moderate her strength. She gripped the young girl’s wrist—whose face Sable could now make out—and clamped down hard. Combined with the way the girl immediately tried to yank away with everything she had, the result was unfortunate but obvious: something snapped, audible enough to nearly make Sable herself wince. The girl cried out.

Sable almost released the prospective thief out of a visceral reaction to hurting her, but overrode that instinct. Of course, that meant the girl thrashed around in a panic, despite—or maybe because of—the pain, but in Sable’s grip, she was obviously impotent. Space cleared around the two of them, the attention of nearby passersby drawn by the pained yell, but as they oriented themselves, rather than concern for the young woman, frowns and disdain crossed the faces of civilians looking in. They could intuit what had happened, and apparently had no love for thieves, regardless of their age.

“Stop struggling.” Sable shifted her grip up higher, onto the girl’s upper arm, so that she didn’t keep thrashing her broken wrist around; it also gave Sable a better grip. She squeezed hard, producing another yelp. “I said stop.”

Finally, the panic stilled, and terrified green eyes looked up at Sable. Sable studied the girl back, impassively, then sighed. She couldn’t be older than thirteen. Not a complete child, but if a teenager, then only just barely.

Always with the complications. All she’d wanted to do was look around the market while she waited for the Guild official. Now, she’d caught a street rat.