They didn’t talk about it until breakfast.

  Wade leaned back in his chair, chewing half-heartedly on a piece of fried bread, eyes half-lidded from a long night of scouting the guild’s contract archive and maybe having a drink or two. Kael, across the table, held his hands over his eyes to protect from the morning sun peaking through the windows.

  “So,” Wade said finally, “we’re really going to go fight mana-mutated wolf things.”

  Kael didn’t look up. “Seems that way.”

  “And we’re doing this with two mages. Just us. In the woods. With regenerative murder-dogs.”

  Kael paused, then slowly wiped the rune sketch clean. “Point made.”

  Wade stood, brushed crumbs off his coat, and slapped a coin onto the table. “I’m posting a bulletin. We need a meat shield. Remember for the time being we really are just strong ass second-ring mages, I've only been able to learn one adept level spell so far and you don’t have a single adept combat spell.”

  The team listing board was tucked along the north wall of the guild’s entrance hall — a cork slab where parties could request help, replacements, or warm bodies with swords. Wade filled out the form while Kael stood beside him, watching adventurers wander past in varying states of interest and injury.

  The posting was blunt.

  Seeking Frontline Combatant

  Job: Ashwick Hollow contract – Class Silver, Combat – Beast Type

  Details: Hostile mana-mutated creatures; regeneration expected. Close-quarters risk high.

  Current Team: Two mages – third-ring.

  Preferred: Melee class, shield or heavy weapon user. No spell-slingers. No drama.

  Payment: Even split + core bonus.

  **Apply in person. No idiots.

  Signed: K. Virelyn / W. Lorrin**

  “‘No idiots,’ huh?” Kael said dryly.

  “If it scares them off, they weren’t worth hiring,” Wade replied.

  One hour. Two glances. One man asked if they could provide “emotional support” for his mount.

  Then the third guy walked up. Broad shoulders, light armor with scratched pauldrons, a massive, double-bladed axe strapped to his back. He looked like a man built specifically to break through doors.

  “Y’all the mages looking for a meat shield?” he asked, voice deep and a little too casual.

  Wade glanced at Kael. Kael gave the faintest shrug.

  “That’s us,” Wade said. “Got a card?”

  The man handed over a guild ID, stamped Silver. Name: Doran Velm. Specialty: Close-Quarters. Seal-2.

  Wade flipped it once. Twice. “You think you’re good enough?”

  Doran grinned. “ Yah — I can take hits. And the Axe ain’t for show.”

  Kael studied him for a moment. “Magic resistance?”

  Doran flexed one arm. “Opened the second seal and while back, but I’ve been struggling with the third. Haven’t been getting nough combat. That’s why I left my last party.”

  Wade stifled a laugh. “Where’d you train?”

  Doran frowned. “Served for a little bit, but was forcibly discharged.”

  “…Right.”

  There was a brief pause where both Kael and Wade exchanged a full silent conversation with just their eyebrows.

  Then Kael said, “He’ll do.”

  Wade clapped the man on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team, Doran. You’re hired for exactly one mission. Impress us, and maybe we’ll hire you for two.”

  Doran grinned. “That’s more than I got offered last week.”

  Kael stood. “We leave by sundown. Hope you don’t mind wolves.”

  Doran’s grin got wider. “I love dogs.”

  Wade muttered under his breath, “We’re all gonna die.”

  They spent the better part of the afternoon weaving through the lower tiers of Aetherhold’s commercial district — a maze of market stalls, gear shops, smithies, and broken signs from three different guilds trying to claim the same territory. The whole place smelled like iron, ink, and fried meat.

  And now that they’d officially registered as an adventuring party — complete now that they had a warrior who could keep them safe for a time while they casted — they needed equipment. Not top-tier by any means, just enough to survive their first job.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Kael had drawn up a rough budget over breakfast: a pooled total of about twenty-seven gold between the two of them. It was quite a lot of money, but if there was anything Kael knew about adventuring was that it burned money like no other. Neither Kael nor Wade had any equipment to wear during combat as they had always used the Academy’s gear.

  They started with the potions. Kael insisted — and Wade, for once, didn’t argue. Potion vendors barked from every angle, waving glass vials like lures. The prices ranged from suspiciously low to insultingly high.

  They settled on a Guild-certified booth called The Brewed Boar, operated by a man with permanent potion stains on his sleeves.

  “First-time adventurers?” he asked, already pulling bottles before they answered.

  “Is it that obvious?” Wade muttered.

  “You’ve got clean boots,” the man replied with a wink. “Means you haven’t run from anything real yet. Don’t worry, I’ve got just what you need.”

  They walked away twenty minutes later with: 5 minor healing potions at 1 gold apiece, 6 mana restoratives for 8 gold total, and ended their spree with 2 detox elixir, which Wade had somehow agreed to after the salesman insisted “hangovers are the death of too many adventurers.”

  In total, they dropped 13 gold and 10 silver just on potions.

  “Gods,” Kael muttered, turning the detox vial in his hands, “I think we just spent more on potions than most people make in their fucking life. Hope they last us at least the whole year.”

  Wade didn’t comment. But they had what they needed, and their lives were worth all the gold they had.

  Next stop was a narrower street tucked between two canal channels where cloth merchants hawked protective robes, magically treated fabrics, and the occasional armor piece reinforced with alchemical lacquer. A narrow wooden sign that read "Weave & Ward!" drew their eye.

  Inside, Kael and Wade found rows of protective gear tailored for casters. Nothing fancy, no enchantments, but good layering. Kael chose a fieldcaster robe — thick enough to protect from wind and brush, layered with a padded underlayer treated with oil and thread. It hugged tightly around the arms but flared at the bottom for movement. Each of them had gotten two sets running them a total of 3 gold for it all. All it would have taken was a single enchantment, and the price would have likely doubled, but they didn’t have to funds to mess around with enchantments.

  They debated mounts at length over a meat stick they found at one of the carts nearby, and after some back-and-forth — mostly Wade complaining about “horse smell” and Kael insisting on “arrival time versus cost” — they agreed.

  After all, no one wanted to walk to Ashwick Hollow — especially when they worked by the job. A few stops later, they managed to find a pair of lean but healthy trail horses. One chestnut mare with decent legs, and one older grey gelding Kael selected because it didn’t spook when he walked behind it. The pair cost them 6 gold total, with saddles and feed thrown in.

  By the time they reached the outfitter near the guild gates — a brick-and-wood shop called The Grizzled Pack — they had just five gold left. It sold pre-assembled adventuring kits in rows: starter, travel, ruin-crawler, deep-wood, and desert. After some deliberation, they chose the basic travel pack: 2 weeks of rations, field tent for two, cookware, tinplate utensils, rope, chalk, spare torchstones, and basic sewing and wound closure kit.

  “We’ve got less than four gold left,” Kael noted as they exited.

  “Let’s hope most of this stuff lasts a while, otherwise we may have to start buying second-hand for a little while,” Wade added.

  With no desire to waste any more time they left the Capital by sundown, riding out with travel cloaks pulled tight and packs tied down. The air was cool and damp, the road toward Ashwick Hollow winding through wide woods and mossy stone fences built before the wars.

  They rode in a loose line — Kael up front, Wade close behind, Doran occasionally trotting ahead to swat branches out of the way with the flat of his axe.

  It was Wade who broke the silence first.

  “So, Doran,” he called ahead. “You always this chill walking into jobs with mutated wolves? Or is this just a performance for the new coworkers?”

  Doran grinned — crooked teeth and a faint scar across his left cheek “I’ve fought worse.”

  Kael smirked faintly. “You trained somewhere, right? You’ve got that… stance. The kind you only get from too many drills and not enough sleep.”

  Doran nodded. “Yeah, like I said yesterday, I served in the King’s Army for a couple of years, but I’ve always been a fighter. Broke my first Seal at sixteen.”

  Wade blinked. “That’s not a mage thing. Never really uhh went to the intro to the Paths of the World class.”

  Kael cut in before Doran could answer. “It’s the Warrior path. Structured progression like the Spiral, but they enhance their bodies rather than a spiral.”

  Doran grinned. “Exactly. I broke my second Seal two year ago. Got my ass beat in a ring match so hard I saw stars and ended up better for it.”

  Wade frowned. “And this is… normal?”

  Kael nodded. “From what I was taught growing up, yes. Each seal is a breakthrough in control, reflex, or body-anchored energy. At the third? You get your Aspect and become able to utilize mana. That’s when things get interesting. It’s very similar to what we do, except we are way more versatile.”

  Doran puffed his chest. “Still working toward that one. Can feel it coming, though. Next time I duel someone with an ego problem, I’ll probably pop and I’ll find it.”

  Wade snorted. “You realize how insane that sounds, right?”

  “It’s the same as you mages poking at invisible spirals and shit.” Doran said. “We just do it with sweat and bruises instead of diagrams and numbers.”

  Kael chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”

  Wade grumbled. “Still sounds like a lot of suffering for the privilege of becoming a living weapon.”

  “That’s the point,” Doran said, almost reverent now. “You suffer and you grow, that is the way of the warrior.”

  Kael went quiet for a moment, eyes flicking toward the tree line. “My father and brother are both swordsmen. Broke their fourth and sixth Seals, last I heard.”

  Doran raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

  Kael looked forward again. “Tested positive for a Spiral when I was ten. Mage path overrode the rest. My family forced me to continue learning the sword, I mean its not like they could teach me a damn thing about magic, that all came from the academy.”

  Doran whistled. “Damn shame. You’ve got the eyes for it.”

  “Don’t get romantic on me,” Kael muttered. “I’ve been hit with enough practice swords to last a lifetime.

  The trees began to grow thicker. The dirt road turned to packed gravel, then rougher stone. By the time the sun dipped behind the forest line, the signs of civilization had started to thin.