∼ The Guild Hall ∼

Chapter - 064

Feet dragging as he walked, backpack slung over his shoulder and an ache in his back, Ignatius, the guide, followed along the gnome spinning around as if attempting to look at everything at once. He had been sorely embarrassed after the gnome had swept him on his ass, and although he would not fall so low to allow the little asshole to boss him around, he supposed he could carry the damn backpack...

Besides; how the hell is that small guy so agile? Even though he clearly had used some spell to slow his abilities, this Nyxel clearly possessed great physical traits to be able to move that fast and overpower his foothold, considering that Ignatius was quite a lot bigger than the average man.

Regardless, he probably shouldn't piss off a warlock more than necessary. Nor would he shrug his duties to The Orphans. He dared not even dream the latter. All he had to do now, was just to complete this one mission, and he'd be rid of the ankle-biter - his debt paid. Then he could finally leave this god's forsaken city. He's had enough of gangs, of the biting cold wind, and most certainly that of arrogant gnomes.

Uncaring of the human's sour thoughts, Nyx was enrapt by the sights all around him. They had walked into the guildhall, entering the ground floor lobby of this massive building, leaving Nyx's mouth gaping wide open in awe. This space was colossal, there was no other word for it. The ceiling reached into the sky as balconies lined multiple stories all around, huge pillars of wood and stone segmented the place and kept the distant ceiling aloft, and ornate furnishings decorated the walls and columns with things such as banners and the like.

However, not only was the architecture astounding, but the sea of people populating the safe was also just as overwhelming. Thousands upon thousands of humans and dwarves, and the figures of the occasionally robed gnome reminiscent of Nyx's appearance, wandered the halls. Dozens of armored people sat by tables in tightly-knit groups as they eyed the rest of the mercenaries, similarly clothed processions moved with purpose on the balconies up top, and those who were all on their lonesome but carried an air about them that instinctually told everyone in the vicinity that they were not to be trifled with.

The amount of walking EXP that was within these halls had to be staggering, and with that realization, Nyx's mind couldn't help but wander to daydreams of slaughter and mayhem as usual. For what would happen if he... accidentally instigated some murderous brawl in here? Surely, he wouldn't be reprimanded for taking a few worthless human lives here and there, under such perilous circumstances. Right?

Nyx just sighed though. Unfortunately, that was too risky an endeavor, even for him. With his greatly increased intelligence, he had begun surmising things that hadn't been as readily prevalent to his adolescent mind before. Such as; if it truly was that easy to get off the hook instigating a brawl. Then surely, he wouldn't have been the first to think of it. And there were more than likely measures already in place set to prevent that from ever happening. After all, they were in a hall surrounded by powerful, guarded, and bloodthirsty men and women who saw carnage on a day-to-day basis. If there was not someone to keep the peace, there'd be no need for him to instigate anything.

Even as enamored as Nyx was with this place, he snapped back to reality when the stench of old sweat, blood, and various other unmentionables hit him like an avalanche. The thick stench wasn't surprising though, considering the many men and women covered head to toe in worn, unwashed armor. Some even looked like they had just stepped out of a slaughterhouse, but they seemingly didn't care that they were smeared in blood and grime. An admirable lack of giving a fuck, Nyx nodded to himself sagely. Still, it was quite unpleasant, but somehow it was also intoxicating as it invoked a sense of fighting spirit within the demon. For it was the smells of battle. Of death and slaughter.

It all hit him then, like an affirmation to Nyx. That he had truly come to just the right place.

"That's the Auction House," The voice of Ignatius broke through Nyx's reverie as he stared openly at a large gathering of people and booths. The demon turned to the human, noting his strained expression. It was as clear as day that he was putting on a forced smile - not that Nyx cared though. He was more interested in hearing what this human could tell him about this place. And how he got started killing things.

Seeing Nyx's interest, he didn't need further prompting to begin explaining. "Each corner of the guildhall is occupied by the main facilities of The Mercenary Guild." He gestured around, each corner densely populated by people. "The Auction House, where you can sell any harvested monster remains, contraband from commissions, or various items for trade-ins such as gear."

He turned to nod at the adjacent corner, to the left of the Auction House. "Then there's the Administrative Office. You don't need to worry as much about that, as it's usually where one goes to get registered as a member or private individuals go to set up a commission or request with the Mercenary Guild. Other than that, it's the backbone of the Guild. The only other time you'll interact with them than when you sign up as a mercenary is if you've gotten yourself into trouble. And at that point... let's just say, good luck. Cause' you'll be sorely needing it if you are unfortunate enough to catch the eye of an Arbiter."

There was almost a visible shiver as Ignatius uttered that title, something that Nyx realized must've meant quite a lot of one were to be called it. So he put it in the back of his mind with some consideration.

"Anyway. Next, there's the Mess Hall." He gestured to the corner left from the Administrative Office. "Pretty self-explanatory. You can get some cheap grub there. Good enough as an after-work meal when you've spent your evening getting matters in order after having completed a commission or similar."

"And lastly. The Agency of Commissions, also known as, The Board, to most of the mercenaries." He pointed to where the largest grouping of people and booths were, a massive board in the center of it all taking up one's attention which had people standing all around it. "That is where you find the main function of the Mercenary Guild. Commissions, requests, and employment. It's the place you will find all that the Guild has to offer. See that huge board in the middle? That's where you'll usually find the most simple and straightforward requests. Where it doesn't require any specific skill set or a unique party composition to complete. Other than that, those booths and stalls usually offer much more in-depth and specific requests put forward for their complexity, long-term nature as employment, or purely for how dangerous they are. In turn, they're also those that pay the best. By a longshot."

Fascinated, Nyx looked at the Board, itching, to find out where he'd be able to sign up. Then something struck him, and he looked up towards the balconies, reaching two stories up. "Then... what is up there?" Nyx asked thoughtfully.

"That's the second and third floor. But they're strictly reserved for those of the appropriate rank." He paused before catching himself. "-Right, haven't gotten around to that yet."

He cleared his throat. "To classify and categorize mercenaries so that they get saddled with commissions appropriate to their level of skill and ability, there are ranks. Rookie, Veteran, and Master. Within those ranks, are further divisions. For the rank Rookie, the divisions are; Bronze, Iron, and Silver. For the rank of Veteran, the divisions are; Gold, Platinum. And lastly, for the rank of Master, there is just one division; Adamantine."

"Although the divisions are not dependent on level, but capability and merit, an individual within each division usually posses the levels in the ranges as follows; Bronze, 10-15. Iron, 16-20. Silver, 21-24. Gold, 25-40. Platinum, 41-50. And Adamantine, 50+"

Listening with rapt attention, Nyx watched as the human pulled out a simple iron tag that had some engravings on it, its rectangular metal frame hanging on a metal-linked chain. "This is your tag. It represents your rank and division. Currently, you've been assigned as just an Iron Rookie, even though as a warlock, you'd easily achieve silver even if you're lower than level 21 as magic-wielders generally have a great advantage over their peers of the same level." His voice turned only shy of a whisper. "But I was told this was the best the boss could do without raising too much attention. Additionally, if you even lose it, simply report it. They're enchanted, so don't worry about it being misused."

Nyx realized he was talking about Zechariah, or at least The Orphans. It really did seem that the matter that his membership with the Mercenary Guild was a forgery should be kept in secret. So Nyx would make sure to remember that. Nyx then paused thoughtfully before looking anywhere but at the guide. "Human, what rank are you?" He asked, feigning a lack of interest, though he watched the tall man from the corner of his eye with little subtlety.

Ignatius just smirked cheekily. "Silver Rookie,"

Cursing a foul storm under his mouth that wasn't nearly as inaudible as the demon thought it to be, Nyx and his man-serv, uh- guide continued. And so, Nyx and the human spent most of the midday and into the evening talking about the Mercenary Guild. The rules and requirements, such as; killing any other members of the Guild without just cause was a criminal offense. Though, most of the laws pertaining to civilians were basically no different from those of mercenaries as the Guild was essentially an arm of the government, to begin with. Their laws were the Guild's laws.

Leaving one of the many reception desks that lined the area around the massive board, Ignatius read over the parchment in his hands before stuffing it into a pocket.

"This is it, you've officially been signed up for your first mercenary job." He said with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

Nyx didn't care about his human's displeasure. He was too ecstatic. For finally, he would be rid of needing the help of anyone else. It was time he forged his own path. Temporarily ignoring his human guide of course. But even as Nyx and the human moved to leave the guildhall, the demon felt eyes on him. Finding the owners of those eyes, he was briefly met with the sight of a group of around a dozen mercenaries lounging around a seating area. Almost all of them looked at him with unabashed stares. But what was most noticeable, was the fact that more than of the individuals amongst them possessed mana. Mages.

...

With a sigh, Aria looked out the window, the dusty book in her hands forgotten.

"You worried about Nyx?" Eric asked.

"-Ah," She jumped, snapped back to reality. "Yes... It is just that you can never know what can happen out there. I am not sure he is ready either..."

"As annoying as he might be, he's more than capable of handling himself," Eric assured her.

"Yes, I know. But that is partly why I am concerned." She laid down the book, putting it back on the bookshelf. "He has too much power for how immature he is. He has a lot of growing left. I do not want anything happening to him. I cannot... I cannot lose more. Eric..."

She looked at him with sorrow and he understood her. He was probably one of the few in this cruel world who could understand her. For he too, could not stand to lose anyone else. No more. For it would mean, to finally lose himself.

"We have to get back," Eric coughed, shaking those honest thoughts from his head and putting back his normally stoic expression on his face.

She nodded as they left the small library, waving goodbye to the pleasant librarian as they did. "We do, I still have a lot of work to do. Honestly, I am amazed that those twins managed to keep their enterprises afloat, keeping Elanor so short-handed. That poor woman," She shook her head, picturing the woman with the thick glasses that had been sitting in the office with Zechariah and Shank.

Having stepped out into the waning light of the evening, Aria shivered as a cold gust bristled her thick fur coat around her robe, people walking the street of the Merchant's Quarter having already become little more than a trickle. Turning around to ask Eric whether or not he remembered to bring all the books she had just purchased, she came up short. Eric was not behind her anymore. He was nowhere to be seen at all. "Eric?" She called hesitantly.

But as she looked to the ground, seeing nothing but one of the small books she had bought laying there, panic started welling up inside her. "Eric..?"