12. My Blood for the World

Kiren tugged at the stiff collar of his doublet. He wriggled in his seat, the heavy fabric scratching his skin.

Who knew something so expensive could be so uncomfortable?

They’d all been forced to wear doublets for the induction. If it had been up to him, he would have burned it. The garment was red with yellow trim and had so many buttons that it had taken the better part of ten minutes to put on. He wore it with a pair of tight-fitting breeches and a pair of calf-skin boots, all of which had been provided for him by a bookish quartermaster.

He sat alone in a corner of the main hall on one of the spare chairs. Most apprentices were already present, including a fair number that weren’t from this year’s batch—who were in their everyday clothing.

They were all chatting amicably, but Kiren had no desire for small talk.

His thoughts drifted to Titaness, putting a bitter taste in his mouth. Luckily, she was not present.

Hopefully, this will be over quickly.

Most of the tables had been cleared away from the main hall. The rest had been pushed together in rows and stacked with foods from every corner of Aribel. All sorts of aromas drifted his way—savory, spicy, sweet, bitter. Kiren wasn’t hungry, though. He was still full after that meal he’d had earlier. How people could eat that much every day was beyond him.

Kiren massaged his temples, trying to block out the noise.

I might just make it through this, so long as…

“Kiren!”

He cringed.

Not tonight. I’m really not in the mood for this.

Lace was coming at him fast, halfway across the main hall. She wore the same outfit as Kiren, but somehow, the stiff, close-fitted clothes made her slim physique stand out.

She pulled the green-haired twig and the blond bull of a man behind her—Counter’s apprentices.

Oh no, Kiren thought. Not these jokers.

“You’re late,” she said, walking up to him. “Everyone’s been here for like an hour. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up!”

“I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t have,” Kiren said.

Haden strutted up and looked down at Kiren over his puffed-up, overgrown chest. “I’m Haden. We met at the admittance tests.”

It seemed like he’d been enjoying himself, holding hands with Lace.

“I know,” Kiren said. “I’m the guy you don’t want to step too close to.”

“Oh, Kiren!” Lace said. “Be nice, for once!” She shrugged apologetically in Haden’s direction. “I’m sorry, he just gets… grumpy, sometimes.”

Haden was quiet for a moment, looking Kiren over. Then his mouth split in a large grin, showing white teeth, and he gave a rumbling belly laugh.

“I see, I see! More of that spirit you showed at the tests! I bet you’d make a fine sparring partner if sparkling conversation is not to your liking.” He stroked his chiseled jaw, and his grin seemed to grow even wider.

Perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect everything. Makes me want to rearrange his face a little. I wonder what he’d look like with a broken nose.

“I heard the stuff you said to Tommyn the other day,” Haden said. He squatted down and put a big hand on Kiren’s shoulder, looking straight at him with those earnest, blue eyes. “I don’t appreciate that. No one talks down to him while I’m around.”

His grip tightened like a vice, dull pain radiating through Kiren’s shoulder.

“Water under the bridge, though, right? Just don’t do it again.”

“Let go,” Kiren said, affecting a perfectly neutral tone. “Wouldn’t want to get blood all over that nice doublet.”

“Guys, you’re being a little intense right now,” Lace said. “Why don’t we table this? I’m sure you can both get along.”

“Yeah, s-s-seriously,” Tommyn said. “This isn’t the time, Haden.”

Haden released his grip and stood up. He straightened his doublet and turned away from Kiren.

“Just having a little fun with my new buddy,” Haden said. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“All apprentices, pay attention!” a smooth, female voice echoed through the hall. “Front and center, please!”

Most conversation stopped immediately, and the apprentices still chatting were shushed by the Heroes present.

Kiren looked up. Apprentices were moving towards the front of the room, where a large square of floor space had been cleared off. A woman stood near the bar, arms folded behind her back. She had her black hair in a short bob and wore a dark, form-fitting uniform.

“Come along now!” she called, significantly more stern. “All of you in the back, as well!”

Kiren stood with a sigh and went with the others to the front of the room. He spotted Bits in the middle of the crowd, laughing with a pair of apprentices to the obvious dismay of the woman. He didn’t seem to take any notice, however.

“Someone escort this man from the room,” the woman said, pointing to Bits. “He can enjoy the induction from the privacy of his own room since he is so intent on missing it through sheer vacuity.”

Eagle-Eyes stepped forward and obliged her, dragging Bits from the room. For once, he wasn’t grinning, which made Kiren grin as he watched the wiry young man be pulled by the collar of his doublet.

Lace leaned in towards Kiren. “That’s the Guild Leader’s assistant.”

“Her name is Conversia. They call her the Nightmare Woman,” Haden said. “Once you’ve been here long enough, you’ll know why.”

“The Guild Leader will now address you,” Conversia said, scanning the crowd of apprentices carefully. “Be. Respectful.”

Judging by the iron in her eyes, Kiren would not want to be the one to cause another interruption.

Conversia stood aside and Bloodhound took her place.

The Goldbrand Guild Leader wore a long, black coat with a set of golden brooches on his chest. His head was fuzzy with brown and white fur, his mouth elongated in a wolf’s muzzle. Furry, clawed hands stuck out of his long sleeves, and he wore no shoes on his fuzzy hind paws.

“It’s good to see you all here,” Bloodhound said. His voice was surprisingly smooth, despite his appearance. He took a long moment to regard the crowd. “Out of all the few blessings to come with That Day, this is surely one of them. It’s such an honor to have so many of you aspiring to become Heroes.”

“Back in my youth, there was no such thing as application tests. If you were lucky you bumped into a Hero in the street, or you knew someone who knew another guy who knew a Hero, and you’d convince them to take you on. Obviously, our need for new blood has forced us to expand that view. In my opinion, it is—”

Conversia cleared her throat loudly.

Bloodhound blinked, then shook his head. “Ah, yes! I’m sure you don’t want to listen to an old geezer talk forever. I remember my grandfather would always sit me down to tell me something and I’d be squirming to get away. I realize in hindsight how precious those stories were, but back then, all I wanted to do was wrestle with my friends and hunt for frogs. You have no idea how useful the shape of a wolf is for both of those things.”

Conversia cleared her throat again. She kicked Bloodhound’s shin, maintaining a neutral expression.

Bloodhound yelped. “Okay, okay! Let’s get on with this. I’m sure you’re all eager to become official apprentices. Are you all ready to say your oaths?”

Kiren felt like he was being watched. He looked around the group of apprentices, but no one was paying him any mind. He looked extra closely at Haden, but the big man was transfixed by the Guild Leader.

“Then we’ll begin. Say after me.”

Kiren looked up. On the catwalk above the bar lay a balding, wizened man, swaddled in white robes far too large for him. He stared down at Kiren with blank, glassy eyes. On his sides were two knights dressed in full plate armor, their visors pulled up.

“As darkness approaches,” Bloodhound said.

“As darkness approaches,” the apprentices repeated. Kiren didn’t join them.

He glared up at the catwalk, but the old man didn’t divert his gaze even for a moment. His stare went straight through him with the precision of a scalpel.

What do you want, you old geezer?

Kiren had never seen him around the Lodge before. He was too old to be a Hero, that was for sure.

“As evil encroaches,” Bloodhound continued.

“As evil encroaches,” the apprentices repeated.

Kiren forced his gaze off the old man. He would get to answer for himself eventually.

“I will remain vigilant.”

“I will remain vigilant,” Kiren joined in.

“I will retain hope.”

“I will retain hope.”

“And offer my blood for the world.”

Kiren hesitated. His scars flared.

“And offer my blood for the world,” he said with the others.

Bloodhound nodded. “Excellent. It’s as simple as that! You’re now officially apprentices of the Heroes’ Guild!”

A round of cheers filled the hall. Kiren rubbed one of his aching arms, glancing up at the old man. He was no longer looking at Kiren, his foggy stare drifting over the crowd.

“You know, this reminds me of when I joined the Guild,” Bloodhound said. “There wasn’t as much pomp and circumstance back then, but the Guild Leader at the time, White Fang, showed me the—”

“Okay, you’re done,” Conversia said. She grabbed the Guild Leader by one of his long ears, and he let out a pitiful howl. She walked away from the bar with him in tow. “Get on with your evening, children. Don’t break too much in here. You’ll be the ones cleaning up in the morning.”

Drink of all kinds was brought out of the kitchen in the back, and the bar was manned by a six-armed Hero.

Most of the apprentices didn’t waste much time. They set to drinking with gusto, and the hall was soon filled with the rumble of a hundred clashing voices.

I could use a drink myself. Maybe it’ll help drown out this noise…

He made his way over to the bar. The Hero was busy passing out drinks with his many hands, mugs and tankards sliding across the smooth bar at a frankly starting rate. The man was heavy set, with six muscular arms. His skin was a deep bronze, and his head was bald.

“Uh, hello,” Kiren said, tapping the wood top.

“I’d appreciate it if you called me Master Crab-Man, like everybody else.” The Hero glanced at him briefly. “Don’t have time for you, son. Grab a mug of ale like everyone else.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need something stronger,” Kiren said. “The strongest you’ve got.”

The Hero’s six arms stopped moving for a moment, and he regarded Kiren seriously, looking him over from head to toe.

“Are you sure you know what you’re asking?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kiren said. “Are you going to give me something, or what?”

Crab-Man cracked a smile. “Very well, son. Just don’t complain when it melts your insides.” He reached under the bar and got out a small, black ceramic bottle. He poured a clear liquid into a glass and passed it across the bar. Kiren took it and put it up to his nose for a whiff.

The smell stung his nostrils and made his eyes water.

Perfect.

He swept the glass and gritted his teeth as the burning liquid went down his throat, spreading through his chest. He let out a breathy gasp. It was like swallowing a bouquet of nettles.

Kiren smacked his lips. They were pricked with a needling sensation, along with his tongue.

“That was… something,” Kiren said.

“Black Orchard Firewine, from Shachen,” the Hero said. “Just wait for it to kick in.”

The world lurched. Kiren stumbled and caught himself against the bar. Black stars flashed in his vision. The Hero clapped him on the back with two of his big hands and laughed heartily.

Kiren tried to speak, but his words were slurred. It felt like his tongue took up his entire mouth, dry as cotton.

“Unmaker’s tits, that’s pretty good,” Kiren said. He motioned to the bottle. “Here, give me the rest.”

“Take it easy, son,” he said, pulling the bottle away. “I don’t want you to end up dead. That’d be on my ass.”

“Seriously, I can handle it,” Kiren said. “Let’s just say I’ve got a good stomach for these things.”

“Do you know how many young lads have said that then ended up in the House of Healing?” He started counting on his fingers. Once he got past twenty, he shrugged. “Too many is the point. Get some ale and be happy with that.”

The six-armed man replaced the bottle behind the bar and shuffled down the bar and resumed serving up drinks. He was quickly caught up in his work and didn’t cast Kiren so much as a glance.

He grinned.

Kiren leaned over the bar, reached underneath blindly, and fumbled around until his hand closed around the neck of the bottle. He pulled it out, hid it in the fold of his arm, and walked away.

He moved through the writhing crowd of apprentices, taking swigs from the firewine. As minutes passed, it helped dull his smarting scars and the noises constantly assaulting his ears.

Well, no reason to stick around here, Kiren thought. Might as well go back to the Slog. Maybe Tryss would like some of this.