Waking up the next day, everything hit me all at once. I opened my eyes to stare up at the familiar drab grey-brown ceiling, plaster cracking in pieces that began to fall ages ago. After a restful night's sleep, my chest felt lighter now. Of course now, it was now empty and numb.
With a deep breath, I reluctantly pushed myself up only to sit there in memory for gods know how long. I didn't want to move or even get out of bed. I no longer had anything to do today. I was no longer a member of Flame Strike.
I was no doubt still part of the Guild, Crimson Horizon, but getting kicked out of a heritage party would be a deadly blow to my status in the guild. Flame Strike was one of three heritage parties linked to the founding of the guild which made it even more impressive.
Partly due to luck and partly due to skill, our party became the obvious choice to carry the Flame Strikes banner after the previous group disbanded when two of their members retired. Jorge quickly replaced the original party name, Sword of Eldermont. Although I felt a bit sad about losing the Eldermont name, I understood that it was a necessary step for him to get closer to his dream. Being in a heritage party was exactly what he needed, as we all aimed to advance in the Guild and make our party the best in the world.
But that no longer had anything to do with me.
“I should check in with the guild.” I spoke those words aloud, small and quiet. taking a breath I continued thinking about what to do next. “Once there I would need to apply to be in another party, I can’t do anything alone as a healer…” but I couldn’t do anything even in the party could I.
my gaze drifted lazily as I tried to push the thought from my head. They shuffled over to the full-length mirror by the closet. There, a woman with tired eyes and slumped shoulders stared back at me. The nightdress was made from a silky fabric that shimmered under the dim light. The floral trim, intricate and delicate, had caught my eye years ago, the soft fabric has caused me to fall in love with it, ensuring my night dress would be this comfortable thing.
Now, all I can see is how it hugs my body, highlighting every curve and leaving little to the imagination.
"Only if you do something about that obscene body of yours."
the words echoed in my head causing me to jolt. with a pulse of fear I grasped at the mirror ahead of me, just outside of my reach. however it still fell as I pulled the mana in the air and yanking it forcefully, which caused the mirror to lurch forward awkwardly. It fell to the ground and shattered.
I could only sign as I looked at the back of the mirror, hiding the splintered glass before me. Anyone could perform telekinesis, the skill of manipulating mana to create a tangible change in the world, but I was always useless with it.
Before I always told myself it was because it was something under the umbrella of Attack Magic, where I was a Specialized Healing Magic user. Naturally, those with attack abilities found it easier to wield, but all I intended to do was flip the mirror, and instead, I shattered it.
It was a straightforward spell, and I couldn't even manage that. I felt utterly useless. I trembled, wrapping my arms around my legs and wallowing in my own despair.
It took some time but I managed to get up and dress. I chose a simple blue day dress—not too fancy but comfortable enough for errands. A slight worry lingered that it might be a bit too revealing, but Jorge had complimented it often in the past, so… it should be fine.
The thought of changing clothes again made me groan—it was already too much hassle. All I wanted was to retreat to the comfort of my bed, pull the covers over my head, and let the world fade away in muted silence.
Unfortunately, while I would be able to enjoy wallowing in misery right now, the problem was the simple fact that it would take ages to find a party that would accept me. I needed to get ahead of this if I wanted to continue my cozy life in Teilart.
With a weary sigh, I grabbed my wallet—a well-worn leather pouch from our very first journey—it's coins clinking softly. I made sure it was securely tucked in my pocket. My hand then touched the sleek, polished surface of a plain wooden Tak Stab, which I hung next to my bag on my belt, feeling comforted as it rested against my hip.
I glanced at the door before turning back. The bag’s weight suggested it needed a few dozen more coins. I had just bought a lot of supplies for our raids the day before so it was quite light. I had more than enough saved, but it was stashed securely within the walls. An act that kept them secure should the worst happen, but retrieving them was a time-consuming chore I didn’t want to bother with.
And I... was simply dragging myself out to check in with the guild. I felt no desire to eat or shop, or even to be outside at all. The world seemed dull and uninspiring, and every step felt heavier than the last.
I shook my head, I'm not doing anything that would be worth the effort. All I wanted was to finish this errand quickly and spend the rest of the year lying in bed, wallowing in my own misery. With a resigned sigh, I stepped outside, carefully locking my door behind me.
The Guild’s Temporary Lodging Facility was a multi-story complex that provided temporary housing for its adventurers, like me. It was like a temporary home for us based on a monthly rent pre determined by the guild. It allowed us to pay relatively the same rate in different cities and towns. Allowing us to be flexible when needed and was the biggest benefit to being in the guild.
While the monthly rate making weekly or biweekly cost would make going to an inn cheaper, the TLF makes it viable to move all over the country so long as the Crimson Horizon Guild had a chapter.
Still, every TLF had a requirement for the Guild Housing Officer, the individual that oversaw the TLF and its residence. That requirement was to be a mean old grumpy grouch who always looked down on the renter.
The overseer of the Teilart's TLF was a man called Lester Brim. He fit the role of a TLF Housing Officer to a T. doubly so as he also exuded an aura of discomfort that lingered with every audible breath he took. His disheveled countenance and foul-mouthed mannerisms were a spectacle that could make anyone recoil in his presence.
Of course, Lester Brim was the first thing I saw, positioned in the dim hallway outside my room. His smile was marred by the absence of several teeth. His eyes were a shade of dull grey that seemed lifeless, emitted an unsettling glint that sent involuntary shivers down my spine.
Wrapping my arms around myself as if to shield my presence, I pushed past him, determined to ignore his presence. He didn't call out to me, which was a relief. He had never been inappropriate, just unpleasant. I always felt bad after our interactions for thinking this way but every time was something else. It didn’t help that he was also incredibly annoying with his constant reminders about the guild rules and his condescending remarks every time I managed to pay the rent.
That's why I always paid for the maximum term allowed here—six months. I wanted to avoid any more interactions with that man.
Pushing him out of my mind as I pushed the door open to the outside world I found myself in the lower district of Teilart.
A vibrant chaos greeted me, buzzing with the restless energy of the late morning. Teilart’s cobblestone streets were bustling with activity, threading through rows of colorful stalls and bustling crowds. The lower district teemed with life as merchants hawking their wares, each voice vying to be heard over the next, creating a cacophony that hummed in the air. The city seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat—a stark contrast to the dull numbness I felt within myself.
My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I stepped into the bustling square, the sheer number of people nearly staggering. The once invigorating energy of the vibrant crowds now turned my stomach, a queasy feeling bubbling within me. Laughter and chatter interwoven with the air, each voice piercing and harsh, as if every stranger's gaze was judging me.
I took a breath to steady myself, calm myself down enough so I didn’t retreat back inside. I needed to get this done sooner than later. With that thought in mind I steeled myself and began the short walk to the main guild hall.
The guild hall was massive, Its impressive facade of polished white stone gleamed brightly under the sun, adorned with banners of deep crimson emblazoned with the guild's distinctive golden emblem—a sun rising over crossed blades. Massive wooden doors, intricately carved with scenes of legendary battles from its long and honorable past, stood open, welcoming adventurers from all walks of life.
That thought stopped me cold.
I was already thinking of moving forward. A dull shock ran through me. Had I truly accepted this outcome so quickly? When Jorge started dating Sasha, I'd spent three days without food, unable to cope. And even then, I ate only to dull the ache. How long had I lived quietly aware that this rejection was inevitable?
A sharp ache tightened in my chest. Yes, I’d prepared myself to be left behind, but never like this. I’d imagined quiet goodbyes, distant drifting—not the brutal, humiliating rejection. My throat tightened painfully. How long had I known, beneath my desperate denial, that this moment was inevitable?
"Oi, move it, girly!"
The sharp voice sliced through the clamor of the bustling hall, jolting me violently from my thoughts. My heart pounded as I realized I'd come to a complete stop, blocking the flow of people streaming past me. Blood surged to my cheeks, turning them crimson with embarrassment. I quickly mumbled an apology, my gaze fixated on the worn wooden floorboards.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“S-sorry.”
I pressed forward, my shoulders curving inward as I tried to make myself as small as possible, hoping to disappear into the crowd.
I navigated through the bustling hall to the Auxiliary Windows, a row of counters tucked away in a quieter corner, often overlooked but still necessary. As I joined the short line, the murmur of conversations and the rustling of paper filled the air. As my turn finally arrived, I stepped forward to face the woman manning the counter. She wore the guild's official uniform, a tightly-fitted bodice that dipped low, deliberately accentuating her curves. The short skirt hovered precariously on the edge of propriety, barely concealing what modesty demanded. Delicate lace frills adorned the hems, adding a misleading touch of innocence to an otherwise decidedly provocative ensemble.
Her expression was one of practiced politeness, devoid of any genuine warmth or empathy. "Hey, how can I help?" she asked mechanically, her smile etched onto her face but never quite managing to illuminate her eyes.
"I need to update my adventurer status, party affiliation, and all that," I replied, trying to sound better than I was.
"Alright, can I get your Guild Card? And please fill out this form," she instructed, sliding a clipboard with a form across the counter. "Drop it in the blue box when you're done and wait to be called."
I nodded and reached into my bag, and pulled out my Guild Card. As I did, the card seemed to weigh heavily in my hand, it was an iron tag, no bigger than the palm of my hand.
Alivia Fehér
Female Human
Class II - Healer
341191220C112104
SGC v3.4
My entire life seemed to be summed up here, meticulously crafted by a talented mage.
Like all the others it was a polished iron that looked almost like silver. cool against my skin. Turning it over, I found the entire back of the square card was filled by Crimson Horizon’s emblem deeply embossed on its back, the familiar image of a sun cresting over crossed swords.
"Ma'am?" The sarcastic tone snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Oh, sorry, thank you," I replied, handing her my card and accepting the form she needed me to complete.
I took a seat at one of the small wooden chairs that lined the walls, its frame creaking quietly beneath my weight as I looked over the form. On the clipboard was one of Mitchel Geovanni’s new product called ‘pen’. A great replacement to the ink and quill.
We met the man before, so long again, before he was famous and made it big. He was an odd creature who was lost in the woods and despite being clearly human he lacked a lot of the proper, innate knowledge that came with it. He was fun to talk to and had all these strange ideas, we all dismissed him as a loon, but in only three months that young man was now one of the kingdom’s greatest inventors.
I couldn't help but smile at the memory. I think we were all happier back then, when we called ourselves the Sword of Eldermont.
…
I sighed as the warmth from the memory faded, now I would be just another healer Looking For Group. A dime a dozen. If only I were a Cleric or even a Priest. Then perhaps I would be able too-I bit my lower lip, no best not think about it.
With a sigh I uncapped the pen and shook my head at the sight, though it didn't matter that I would never figure out how it worked what mattered wat that it did and my handwriting was far more improved thanks to the ease of its use and the missing splatter of ink that accompanied a quill.
I filled out the simple details—name, adventurer class and a few more obvious things. Writing down my guild id that I had memorized so long ago. Then I checked the change request and I managed to write expelled from the party quite cleanly. As if it didn't matter to me at all.
The nib scratched softly against the paper. My heart tightened painfully as I wrote, each letter feeling heavier than the last. A small, bitter smile curved my lips as I finished the form, gently blowing over the ink until it dried.
Deep down, I knew the truth—I had been holding them back. If Jorge was to reach his dream, he needed more than I could ever offer.
As I stood I felt an odd sense of peace. It still hurt, my chest felt hollow, but there was a numb acceptance to it now. Jorge would meet his dream without me and honestly, that's all I ever wanted.
The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my steps, the chatter of the guild hall a distant murmur around me. I slipped the parchment into the blue box, the quiet rustle of paper oddly final.
I stared at the box a moment longer, then, with a weary sigh, I returned to the chair, its cool wood firm beneath me. For now, I'd keep adventuring until something else to do—without that party, without him I didn't have the heart to keep adventuring.
I don't think I ever really enjoyed it anyways, but it paid well at least and despite how dangerous it was relatively easy.
Time dragged on for more than a little while yet, despite my fears I was called before anyone I would recognize saw me.
“Alivia Fehér.” I jumped up right away at the sound of my name and pushed forward.
“Thank you.” I said passing by the young receptionist who guided me inside, after a few doors I was directed to sit at a table alone in a room with 2 chairs.
“Wait here, someone will be with you shortly.” I nodded and the woman closed the door behind her leaving me alone in the room. It was a little small and uncomfortable but I’ve been in the interview room multiple times before.
I had to chuckle, remembering my first time. I sat there a young, scared girl, freshly whisked away from the temple by a brave young hero who kept his promise he made 10 years ago.
Oh how warm my heart was. I wanted to, with all my body and soul help him achieve his dream that I bit down every stomach turning fear I had and despite how I trembled in a chair very similar to this one, I had been able to answer every question asked of me.
That's when we started our adventure, all those years ago. The memory made me smile, causing my heart to warm, just a little despite myself.
“It was always destined to end.” I never wanted to be an adventurer or anything like that. I just wanted to be with him.
The sound of the door slamming open caused me to jolt. Good feeling gone. hehe.
The man who entered carried himself with an air of authority, his emerald-green eyes glinting with open disdain beneath short, impeccably groomed blond hair.
Who ruined his day?
His guild uniform was pristine, a crimson jacket with intricate gold embroidery along the cuffs, fastened over a perfectly starched white shirt. Yet the elegance of his attire did little to mask the hard, contemptuous look in his eyes. He glanced at me briefly, lip curled slightly as though he'd spotted something distasteful.
"Alivia Fehér, right?" he demanded, voice blunt and dismissive. Without waiting for my answer, he sat across from me, dropping a thick folder onto the table with a careless thud. The scent of fresh ink and parchment rose into the air sharply, mingling with—A sharp smell curled my noise as I was forced to smell his overpowering scent of his cologne.
"Yes, that's me," I said quietly, anxiety shifting in my seat. It was supposed to be simple but I got someone who had a stick up his… rear.
"I'm Vincent Renauld. Let's skip the pleasantries." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table as he fixed me with a cold, disgusted glare. "You've been expelled from Flame Strike, is that correct?"
I nodded slowly, throat tight. "Yes, sir. Unfortunately, they—"
"Spare me the theatrics," Vincent cut me off harshly, eyes narrowing. "I don't need your version of events sugarcoated. Your party—Flame Strike—made sure the guild knows exactly what kind of person you are."
His voice dripped with venom, each word like a dagger striking deeper into my chest. I blinked rapidly, confusion and panic setting in. "I don't...what do you mean by—?"
"Don't play dumb," he snapped, his tone acidic. "Do you have any idea how many complaints we've received? According to your former teammates, you're nothing but a manipulative, wanton harlot who spent more time trying to seduce your way through missions than actually helping anyone."
My breath caught painfully in my throat. "No! I would never—"
He raised a hand sharply, cutting me off again. "Quiet. I've seen plenty like you—selfish, entitled girls who believe their pretty faces can mask incompetence. It won't work here, Miss Fehér. Crimson Horizon has a reputation to maintain, and we won't tolerate this sort of shameful behavior."
His eyes moved over me, cold and openly contemptuous. "You're lucky you've held your Class II rating for over five years. It's the only reason you're not immediately thrown out onto the streets. But rest assured, you're officially flagged. Effective immediately, you're on a five-month probation. At the end of that period, you'll be reduced to Class I. And believe me," his voice dropped to a cruel whisper, "we'll ensure every party you approach knows exactly what you are."
A sickening nausea twisted inside me. My voice trembled, barely audible as I forced out the words, "But…I didn't do anything—"
His palm slammed down on the table, the sharp crack echoing harshly in the small room. I jumped in shock, heart pounding. "Enough. You're fortunate we're even giving you these five months, if it were up to me, you'd already be gone."
He rose sharply, eyes blazing with undisguised disgust. "You should be grateful you're getting even this much leniency. But don't worry," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Five months pass quickly. And once you're reduced to Class I, you'll be out on the street with nothing. Exactly where you belong."
Without another word, Vincent strode from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Silence crashed down around me, thick and suffocating. My body shook violently as the reality of his words settled in, heavy and painful.
“Oh, don't start your tears now," he sneered, clearly disgusted. "Your former party—despite everything you've put them through—still has some sympathy for your sorry situation." His tone dripped with sarcasm, his lip curled into a mocking half-smile.
I stared blankly at him, unable to process his words.
He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, neatly folded envelope. My name was written across the front in Jorge's unmistakable handwriting.
"They asked me personally to give this to you," Vincent continued, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Said it might help you. Frankly, I think it's more than you deserve—but here." He tossed the envelope carelessly onto the table, where it landed with a soft whisper against the wood.
Without another word, Vincent spun sharply and strode out, slamming the door behind him. The echo of his departure resonated in the small room,
My fingers trembled violently as I picked up the envelope, my breath hitching as I opened it. I unfolded the cheap letter inside. The writing was clearly written in Jorge’s hand.
"To Whom it May Concern,
The woman presenting this letter, Alivia Fehér, is no longer affiliated with our esteemed party, Flame Strike. However, we believe she possesses certain skills best suited to your establishment. Please accept her into your care with our deepest recommendation."
Below the message was a finely printed address: "Madame Belladonna's Pleasure House."
The parchment fell from my shaking hands.
They had planned this. Jorge—my Jorge—had deliberately set this in motion. My chest ached fiercely, my breaths coming in short, painful gasps. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks unchecked.
But worst of all was the feeling of betrayal—the realization that Jorge, the person I trusted above everyone else, had orchestrated my downfall with ruthless precision. He wasn't just happy with casting me out, he had to ruin me as well, discard me as cheaply as possible.
I buried my face in trembling hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, as the world around me seemed to crumble into darkness.
the slow, painful isolation of Alivia Fehér.
While this chapter allows for more dynamic worldbuilding so the reader can get a clearer visual of how the world works while hopefully seeing it though our girls eye, its also about something even more powerful: The loss of her self-worth and near complete isolation
still can’t even look at herself without seeing what they said she was.
That psychological fallout is core to Chapter 2, and it’s one of the most important elements of her emotional arc.
The guild’s absolute indifference. Her party’s reputation drowns out her voice completely.
No one wants to hear her side. No one even cares enough to ask.
mockery.
Even the man who delivers it doesn’t stay long enough to care, Because thanks to the completely fair and accurate report from the party who finally removed the useless weight, she's nothing more then a burden. and they will ensure every party knows, because she cant be trusted and they have a reputation to protect
Did anything Alivia felt or experienced resonate with you personally?
Do you feel like the worldbuilding is coming through naturally so far?
What do you think Alivia needs right now—even if she doesn’t realize it?
How did you feel about the Guild’s response? Was it believable? Too cruel? Too real?
Any lines or scenes that stood out to you—positively or negatively?
