The Adventurer’s Guildhall in the capital was larger than either of them expected — three stories tall, stone-walled with bronze-inlaid arches, warded banners that shimmered faintly in the sun, and a main door big enough to drive a siege beast through.

  Inside, the space was all polished wood and noise, mission boards clattered with parchment, and half a dozen clerks behind the long marble desk were already mid-debate with a party of armored and half-drunk dwarves and three wood elves who apparently had messed up their mission.

  Kael and Wade approached the front desk like men with purpose. They passed a man whose beard was below his belt and a woman carrying three dead, glowing squirrels.

  The receptionist didn’t look up at first. She was in her mid-thirties or at least Kael assumed, it was hard to tell with some of the beastkin races, her hair pinned back with a steel stylus, ink-stained gloves, and the permanently exhausted air of someone who had dealt with five hundred adventurers and regretted every single one.

  “Name?” she asked, eyes still on the forms in front of her.

  Wade leaned on the counter. “Wade Lorrin. And this miserable bastard’s Kael Virelyn. We’re forming a party.”

  She started to reach for a parchment stack without glancing up. “Mhm. You’ll both start at Bronze rank unless you’re sponsoring under someone.”

  “Right,” Wade said, reaching into his coat. “Except—”

  He dropped the Academy mage badge onto the desk with a small metallic clink.

  The woman froze.

  Slowly — like a farmer checking to see if the snake is dead or just playing — she looked up.

  Her eyes locked on the badge. Then on Wade. Then on Kael. Then back on the badge.

  “You’re an Academy graduate?” she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.

  Wade smiled. “As of yesterday.”

  She blinked. “And you're forming a party. With him.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “Yes, with me.”

  Her gaze darted between them again, then down at the badge. She picked it up and ran her thumb across the edge. The enchantment shimmered briefly, then she set it back down with a sigh that was half shock, half calculation.

  “Well, you’re in luck. All Academy mages — verified, certified — are automatically given Gold rank status, per the continental accord. Which, in plain terms, means you get access to mid-level contracts, higher pay, and a lower quota.”

  She looked at Wade. “You’re going to be the official party leader.”

  Wade gave a small, smug shrug. “I’ve been worse things.”

  She turned her attention to Kael. “And you… don’t have a badge.”

  Kael shook his head.

  “Proof of graduation?”

  “Got expelled before they handed out the paperwork.”

  Her expression flattened instantly. “Of course you did.”

  Wade held up a finger. “He’s still a Third Ring mage. Casts circles around half the drunkards in this building.”

  The receptionist snorted. “I’ve heard that before. Usually right before the roof collapses.”

  Kael crossed his arms. “I’m not here for special treatment. Just process me.”

  She flipped open a drawer and pulled out a thick bundle of parchment, which Kael had to fill out with some basic information.

  “Alright, Mister Virelyn. You’ll be required to undergo full Spell Aptitude Testing, Combat Evaluation, Field Behavior Assessment, and a basic Stability Screening — just in case you’re channels are about to burst like half of you back-country mages, oh no offense.”

  “Some taken,” Kael said.

  She ignored that. “Assuming you don’t burst into flames or blow up anything, we’ll assign you Bronze rank. Second-lowest. Gets you basic board access, travel stipend eligibility, and the right to formally take contracts.”

  Kael nodded. “Fine.”

  “You’ll be restricted from advanced missions until reviewed by a senior contractor or sponsored for a rank trial.”

  “Also fine.”

  “Forms, then.” She dropped two thick stacks on the counter. “One for the partnership. One for the both of you individually. Sign, bleed, and mana-mark.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “Bleed?”

  She smiled. “We like to make sure you’re serious.”

  Wade flipped through the forms with the air of a man reviewing a tavern menu. “So how does this actually work?” he asked. “Can Kael and I take jobs together if he’s ranked Bronze?”

  The receptionist, still flipping through another stack of parchment with a speed that betrayed how often she did this, nodded. “Yes. As long as one party member meets or exceeds the quest rank requirement, the rest can participate. Although it is certainly not advisable. The higher-ranked member becomes the responsible lead. You—” she looked at Wade, “—would be the one held accountable if the job turns into a crater.”

  “So he can be Bronze and still join me on Gold-tier missions?”

  “Correct. Though he won’t get the full pay cut until he's promoted. Or unless you negotiate it yourself.”

  Kael smirked. “Guess I’ll have to pull extra weight, then.”

  “Good,” she said flatly. “We have a policy against dead Bronze mages stinking up the job boards.”

  They signed. Bled. Marked the forms with a small pulse of mana through sigil-stamped glyph paper that glowed briefly, then sank into the parchment like ink absorbing breath.

  The receptionist gave them each a badge — Wade’s gleamed gold and pulsed faintly with his Affinity signature. Kael’s was dull bronze, unadorned but solid.

  “Take the left corridor. You’ll be split there,” she said. “Mr. Gold Rank Mage you need to do a quick little run through of Guild procedures, and then you’re good. Bronze-rank initiates go to testing.”

  Wade slapped Kael on the back. “Guess I’m off to listen to some bullshit presentation and then drink lukewarm wine and find the least suicidal job on the board. Try not to destroy anything.”

  Kael snorted. “No promises.”

  The testing suite was three rooms deep, each colder and quieter than the last.

  The first was Spell Aptitude. Kael was handed three pre-drawn arcane forms — geometric templates designed to be activated by trace mana. One for elemental manipulation, one for barrier shaping, and one raw channelling.

  He completed all three in under three minutes.

  “Precision is well above standard,” the evaluator muttered, noting on her board. “Flow density higher mets threshold for bronze. Affinity still reading... anomalous.”

  “Not surprised,” Kael said.

  Second room: Combat Simulation. A simple warded chamber with a conjured opponent — a golem-mimic in iron and runic glass.

  Kael figured it was time to sharpen his combat control — unfortunately, all of his Decay-based spells he had learned so far still required direct touch to function. No elegant long-range constructs.

  Still, he wasn’t helpless. Growing up in a household full of sword-wielding purists had at least taught him how to move. He wasn’t strong, but he was quick — and he didn’t waste motion. The training golem powered up with a dull hum, its heavy iron limbs clicking into motion. It moved like all low-tier constructs: slow, deliberate, brutally simple.

  Kael cast the spell matrix for Rustmark, feeling the spell pattern coil in his hand. The golem swung. A wide, heavy punch aimed at his chest. Kael pivoted smoothly to the right, letting the fist pass harmlessly beside him — leaving the golem’s entire left side exposed.

  He reached out and slammed the spell into the shoulder joint. Rustmark triggered on contact. Within seconds, the limb spasmed — then dropped, metal groaning as the joint corroded.

  Another swing — this time a low, sweeping kick.

  Kael ducked under it, rolled past the knee, and tagged the back of the construct’s leg just above the hinge. The leg buckled, and seconds later the golem stumbled, gears shrieking.

  Two more calculated casts — one to the hip, one to the neck joint — and the machine collapsed with a dull clatter, its movements grinding to a halt.

  Kael straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. It wasn’t elegant or explosive, but it worked.

  The instructor raised an eyebrow. “Low-output casting. Subversive Affinity?”

  “Something like that.”

  The Third room was for Stability Screening. Kael stood inside a seven-pointed sigil while a quiet old man read incantations around the edge and watched for fluctuations.

  The examiner didn’t comment. Just noted something, stamped a scroll, and told Kael he was done. He stepped out into the Guild’s side hall forty minutes later with a mild headache and chalk on his sleeves.

  Wade was reclined in a worn-out armchair near the posting wall, sipping from a dented flask.

  He looked up.

  “Still alive?”

  Kael nodded, tossing the test parchment toward him. “Bronze, officially.”

  Wade raised it like a toast. “Here’s to being underestimated.”

  Kael slumped into the chair beside Wade, rolling his shoulders with a faint wince. The mana drain was minor, but the evaluation spells left a kind of hum in the nerves.

  Wade offered the flask. Kael took a pull.

  “Any disasters?” Wade asked.

  “Nothing serious, but a golem lost its leg. ”

  Wade grinned. “That’s our brand now. Oh, and speaking of, we need to think of a party name. All good parties have a cool name”

  They both turned to face the massive contract board stretching across the east wall. Parchment tags fluttered in enchantment-sealed columns, color-coded by rank and urgency. Dozens of adventurers hovered around it, shouting, pointing, pulling listings off like they were fighting over meat.

  Wade stood up and stretched. “Alright. Time to find out how much money we will make.”

  Kael didn’t say anything as he stepped up to the board again — just scanned the postings with a frown like he was trying to smell out the one that didn’t belong. He moved past the Gold listings Wade had been fondling, down into the Silver tier.

  Not all of them were trash. Some had been flagged as caster-suitable.

  ?? Job ID #8911

  Category: Silver Combat (Mage Preferred)

  Requestor: Mayor Tren of Ashwick Hollow

  Objective:

  Investigate and eliminate a group of mutated beasts, presumed to be of the canine family, threatening livestock and trade routes near the Ashwick Hollow outskirts. Activity centers around the ruins of an old arcane watchtower.

  Kael tugged the tag from the board and handed it to Wade without a word.

  Wade scanned it, his brow lifting by degrees.

  “Feral mana-wolves, huh?”

  “Resistant to fire, regenerating. No confirmed magic so should be a max of Tier II, but likely just some enhanced Tier I monsters,” Kael said, already flipping the card over to check the back. “Local mutation source near an arcane ruin. Extra silver for samples.”

  Wade made a low, amused noise. “So we’re not just pest control — we’re mutation janitors.”

  Kael shrugged. “Job’s clean. Silver level, Which makes sense to me for our first gig. Good caster recommendation. Remote area. And…”

  He tapped the lower corner of the contract, where it read the pay.

  Wade took the card back, gave it one more read. “Alright, 2 gold and we get to keep anything we harvest. Sounds good to me. Ashwick Hollow is what a 4-day ride?”

  He tapped the contract with his badge.

  A rune flared green.

  The job burned itself into the guild ledger with a soft whoosh, and the claim sealed. They had 5 days to report to Ashwick Hollow and make contact with Mayor Tren otherwise the job because open again.

  Wade grinned. “You ready to see if your rust magic works on something with claws?”

  Kael’s patted Wade on the shoulder, “Think its gonna be mostly on you for a little while. It's a good thing I have a big strong Gold rank Mage to protect me.”