Scrying slate- Is a tablet made from crystals that possess telepsychic magic , cut into a sheet and inlaid with magically conductive metal. Each scrying slate can be tuned to a number of scrying crystals which can transmit images and sometimes sound from a distance, depending in the concentration of ambient mana wherever it's used.

‘On Evaluation’ in The Guild's Training Guide for Receptionists by the Adventurers Guild

Oon’sday, another week began. The three-day weekend and the week before had been a blur for Arthur. His social battery just needed to recharge. The youth just now realized how much interacting with many people in a single day took out of him. First, it was buying furnishings for the house, then they had to go to the Merchants Guild to pay for the mortgage.

After that they had to get their clothes made at the seamstress. Last yet importantly came the visitors; it was like just making their presence known at various places in the town became an invitation for people to start visiting. He’d never really taken Aldmoor to be such a nosy neighborhood.

Perhaps Nora’s choice of residence was well thought of then. Arthur would have rather locked himself up in the underground workshop like a crazed scientist if only to escape house calls and invitations for luncheons and other occasions.

How fast things changed, it was only a couple of nundines ago that Arthur had been wanting to meet fellow humans—those who wouldn't be ready to gut him first thing when they met him.

They even had clubs—no not the rave kind of clubs he was familiar with but the ones that screamed big cigars and expensive whisky; if they could just add in polo shirts and khaki shorts they would not have looked so dissimilar for a golfer’s club for old retirees—he cringed just trying to imagine it. Thankfully such clubs were much more conservative.

“Don’t you ever get tired of standing stiff like that?” Arthur asked Nora. While he had breakfast; she was right behind him standing all prim and proper like an actual [Maid]. At first Arthur thought that the girl would just do it for appearances when they had guests around; now, he wasn’t so sure. She’d be going at it since she’d gotten her maid uniform. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she worked as a maid before.

“Practice cultivates habit Master Arthur,” she smiled. Arthur shook his head at that. He felt like the girl was building some distance between them, sinking further and further into the persona she'd crafted for herself. “No more of that during meal times Nora, honestly. Can’t you be more like you know…casual?”

“Fine, I give,” Nora acquiesced, taking the seat across from him. “If only you’d stop hounding me about it. Yet you picked the colors for my outfit,” she said, ruffling her frills.

“But you choose the design,” Arthur shrugged over the rim of his cup. “I hope we don’t get to have more visitors. I want to do something else other than prattle out my ignorance. I seem to be behind the times.” He scowled. The more engagements he had, the more holes would be poked at his story.

Playing a faraway noble because he had magic was hard enough, but keeping up with political developments when there was no such thing as the convenience of the internet? Again he shook his head; it was simply punching above his weight. Save for the Guild and the Lalilab girl he had no connections and he couldn’t bring himself to ask the teenager to help him keep abreast of matters.

“Why don’t you hire the Lalilab girl as a secretary? She seems to have everything at her fingertips.”

‘That’s like hiring a new anchor to do a public relations job; skills are close but not the same.’

“With what funds? What she can do you can too; if you have no shame breaking into an archive—”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Haah,” Arthur exhaled, as if it would take a load off his chest. “Information is gold but we don’t seem to have enough of it. We have to find something worthwhile to shore up our finances instead of sitting on our laurels as if we have generational wealth behind us.”

“What about your enchanting?” Nora pointed out. “I’m sure a town as big as this has no shortage of people who need magical items.”

“You forget I have no clout in this town. Besides, didn’t you see that magical emporium we went to get magical supplies at?”

“Yondouk’s?”

“The very same. On top of being an unknown entrant, I can never hope to compete with that.” He put down his empty tea cup. Tenting his hands atop the kitchen table, he added, “We are in a precarious position Miss Nora. Before we dip our toes into unknown waters, we have to scope how deep they go. For all we know we might be entering monster shark infested waters.”

“Monster sharks?” she asked dubiously.

“Damn, I forget you lived in a sea of sand,” he smirked. Nora pouted like a puffer fish.

“What about adventuring?” he grinned. “It’s the fastest way to earn gold and also, get materials we want. With your abilities and mine, we are practically invincible…Welp, except for that one time we got chased by a sloth bear. That does not count.”

“You know what? I think you’re onto something.” She stood up, palms on her table as her eyes lit up with interest. “But what to do about our ruse?” she deflated.

“C’mon, it's simple. Most of the town barely knows us by face. We could come up with disguises; plus your [Shadow Warp] can get us anywhere…anywhere within reasonable distance. We haven’t measured how far your ability can jump. Speaking of abilities—”

“I have some ability with daggers. Or have you already forgotten who trained you?”

“Ah, that should make you some kind of rogue.” Arthur recalled, snapping his fingers. “And I’ll be a swordsman; though mediocre,” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands.

“Not to worry, you might level if you slay actual monsters in life or death battles.”

“Alright, now I feel like we’re cheating.” He chuckled with levity. “Who is going to watch the house though?”

“Umbra,” she smiled, as she took on her faraway look in her eyes. Immediately, shadows mushroomed at the middle of the table. Arthur jerked back in alarm as he scooped up his tea cup and saucer. The shadows coalesced into a vague outline then like mist in the sun, they cleared to reveal a feline as big as an ocelot. Umbra had grown.

“How?!” Arthur gawked looking at the cub who was initially the size of a domestic cat when they’d first met her.

“Bonding,” she stated as a matter of fact. “She’s been hunting around the grounds before the guild workers hacked away the weeds. And the mansion too, no mice or rats to be found.”

Umbra yawned, showcasing her gleaming fangs and a barbed tongue before promptly curling to nap on the table. She purred like a small idling engine.

“Oh, right—that,” he tousled his hair. “We need new names; as individuals and as a team of two Any ideas?” Arthur had an idea, in fact he couldn’t stop the edges of his lips from wrinkling in amusement.

“I have a feeling you’ve thought up something. Spit it out already; the tension is killing me,” she rolled her eyes.

“You’re no fun,” Arthur glowered. “Fine then, I’ll be Red and you’ll be Snow.”

“And our party name will be what? Pink?” she sniggered.

“Twilight,” he deadpanned.

The word hangs in the air for a while. When Nora realized he was being serious she schooled her expression.

“So…what do we need?” she coughed, adopting a serious countenance.

“Here’s what we’ll do—”

Creating a voice changing mask was easy because—magic. Though getting it to work right was a series of hits and flops. His intention was creating a dystopian-like gas mask which covered the mouth and nose with respirator valves that would alter how he spoke, giving the illusion of a man in dire need of lozenges. The MO was that he’d suffered a ghastly injury to his throat that healing magic couldn’t fix.

They altered their armor; using supplies they painted the sand wurm leather’s already tougher than standard adventurer garb black. They were going for a dark and imposing look that would make anyone think twice about approaching them; the darker the better.

Twilight was going to be a two-person party, there was no better way to express that without having to speak than picking a dreary theme for gear. He was going to have to start using more sword muscles and less magic muscle.

However, there was one more thing that was tricky that they had to sort before they became adventurers— guild registration. Would they just walk in through the front door and demand their favor from the guild master? That would have defeated the purpose.

Arthur remembered something about a contract to keep the lid on his abilities; he decided he might as well capitalize the hell out of it. And in negotiations, the first thing you did when you wanted to leave the other on the back foot; was making an entrance so big it made them swallow their tea down the wrong pipe. Such an entrance was made in the guild master’s office.

“Vesper’s armpits! You’ll give this old man a heart attack,” guild master Orhill crowed, as he wiped away the spilt tea from his beard. Nora was trying very hard to stifle her giggles, while Arthur was fighting the muscles on his cheeks as he tried to remain stoic. Being otherwise would have subverted what he was trying to achieve.

“Take a seat then,” the guild master said. He activated anti-scrying as well as sound dampening enchantments on his desk, and made sure they would not be disturbed.

Arthur sat, Nora remained standing. Arthur gave her the stink-eye but let it slide.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Things must be serious enough to warrant breaking into my office.” Orhill said, pouring himself another cup.

Nora and Arthur shared a look and then Arthur spoke,

“We’ve come about the nature of our contract,”

Orhill stared at them ludicrously as if they’d grown second heads; then it dawned on him.

“Uh, forgive me; I forget sometimes. What with all the meetings about last week’s debacle.”

“Anything we need to know about?” Arthur asked inquisitively.

“At this point, it doesn’t concern you.” Orhill waved his hand dismissively. “So about this contract?”

“Yes, we need to add a few more details.”

“What’s in it for me?” the guild master grinned broadly as he sagged against the leather high back chair. He stroked his beard, grimacing at the honey still stuck to his hair and rolled his fingers to get rid of it like a stubborn booger had gotten stuck to it. “I’m already doing you a favor.”

“What if I told you, honey is good for your beard?”

This time both Nora and Orhill looked at him inanely.

“Never mind. Right then… It’s a project in the making but one day I seek to release it and I want you to be among the first to witness it.”

“Ho! big words,” he scrunched his eyebrows, “What do I have as assurance that you’re not just selling me some humbug and quack remedy?”

“Mmh, do you know what my class is?”

‘I’m going to dangle the mystery of my class like bait. Bet he hasn’t noticed my class was obfuscated.’

“Where are you going with this boy—? If you tell me you’re a void-forsaken mage; I’m going to have to kill you here noble or not—,” and his eyes started glinting with lightning sparks.

“Ey, eyyy…easy on the magic Veldora,” Arthur put up his arms. “Nothing as absurd as that.” Orhill was pacified and the storm cleared from his eyes.

“Go on then,” he huffed, “knock my boots off.”

Arthur retrieved the Azure Surfer from beneath the table. He’d done his homework and found out that rings of holding existed so he could feign using one without revealing his [Inventory] skill. And supposedly, he was going to reveal the thing at some point and it would bring its own share of attention, pleasant and not. He just needed a big man in his corner when the wolves came for him, what with him being out of touch with the world and all.

“A shield? Hah! Unless it’s a legendary arte—”

Arthur retrieved the mana sail. Orhill clammed his jaws closed so fast they thought they heard his teeth clack like a clapper. His eyes had opened so wide his brows were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

Arthur reveled in the satisfaction; that was just the icing—and the cake? The cake would have to wait because people like Orhill were not used to taking much sugar. Pastries here were rather expensive because sugar beets were in high demand and the ones on the street? They used honey. ‘Ah again with the sugar,’ Arthur added that to his mental notes and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Allow me to demonstrate guild master, in fact, why don’t you come do this yourself?”

“Truly?'' The guild master got up from his seat, walking towards Arthur as if the hoverboard was a timid animal that would run away at his approach. Nora stood off to the side, face going through many emotions at once; mostly, trying to stymie her laughter from bursting out. Her ribs must have caught stitches by now.

Arthur gave the guild master the mana sail and showed him what to do with it. The hoverboard was on the ground, inert indistinguishable from a shield made of iron wood—an overelaborate shield.

The guild master slotted in the mast. It lit up, his breath hitched. The mana engine purred, the guild master’s grin threatened to split his face in two. The hover board did what it did best—It hovered and the guild master went nuts. No, the guild master actually became paranoid looking this way and that as if looking for invisible spies. He activated another enchantment by twisting his ring. Satisfied with its response, he seemed to relax. But then his eyes lit up with renewed fervor.

“Boy, what did you say your class was?”

“I’m already doing you a favor—” he gave the guild master an impish grin, “What's in it for me?”

“Ha! You got me good boy,” guildmaster Orhill said as he looked at the hovering craft. He went on to place one foot to test if it would take his weight, “Your very own aership, so this is how you got aro—” and promptly depressed the shifter pedal; or what functioned for an accelerator on the Azure Surfer.

Were it under different circumstances, Arthur would have been recording a blooper reel; those gags of old men falling off a skateboard had never been funnier. Arthur was left cupping his mouth to prevent the laughter from spilling out, Nora on the other hand—she was bent double, laughing herself hoarse. Luckily, the guild master had a dense skull. Though the room shook, the sound dampening enchantments held.

“You should have warned me boy—” guildmaster Orhill grunted, “Give this old man a hand,”

Arthur and Nora both took hold of his hands and got him to his feet. Then the negotiations began in earnest.

“You need your guild registration done out of the book? Under the names Red and Snow so you can become adventurers. Am I getting that correctly?” The guild master kneaded his temples. He’d had several things dumped on his plate that day and thinking about it just made the gears in his mind grind.

“Why such a roundabout way?” Then realization dawned on him. “ Ho! Genius boy; if you’re an adventurer people wouldn’t dare touch you. They would think that you found an artifact.”

“Yes, and I have reasons to believe the dwarves might not take kindly to a new player in the aership market.”

“Hmm,” Orhill’s voice rumbled like gravel, “You have a point. The adventurer’s guild has been trying to negotiate for a means of fast response to no avail. The dwarven holds would rather sell to merchants and other privateers.”

“ Why? Because they think the guild is too powerful? What do they have to fear from an impartial entity; adventurers don’t fight in wars do they?”

“I would have thought so myself; of course any kingdom would feel threatened by an organization that does not bend the knee to anyone fearing which way they’ll turn.” He huffed, looking at a newly pinned map on the side of the wall. A map of the Alkerd continent and part of its neighbor to the west, Occidania.

“Before, that supposition would have held but now?” He shook his head wistfully, “Our guild charter has allowed us to operate in more kingdoms and powers. It outlines our non-interventionist policies on matters of war,” he said, returning his gaze to Arthur. “Thus far, we have proven it to be so, but they still rebuff as at every attempt to have them create our own ships. Most shipwrights are dwarven you see—”

“And they are rarely found outside their holds—” Nora supplied.

“Correct lass—” He said, stroking his beard in contemplation. “At first it would have been a matter of racial pride,” he glowered while his fists clenched. You could practically hear his frustrations through the cracking of his knuckles. “Then, new intelligence came in; they had discovered other methods of transport. Which they are choosing to remain mum about.”

Arthur and Nora shared a look.

“Should we know what that is?”

“No lassie,” the guild master deflated. “It is classified intelligence, Mithril level.”

“Dang!” Arthur slumped. “Then we have to get our badges…and fast. I hate being left in the dark.”

“Is that so?'' The guild master’s stormy look brightened, a little. He used his mana signature to open up a safe beneath his desk, retrieving a sheaf of vellum which he placed on the desktop. It had swirls and squiggles around the border like some ornate letterhead which buzzed in his mana sense. Even Arthur’s rune lore was too low a level to comprehend the complexity of the runes in front of him.

“This is a Geas contract.”

“Vesper’s Pits,” Nora hissed, eyes wide as saucers. “Do we have to go that far?”

Arthur shifted in his seat. He’d already had a run-in with what such a thing could do. But if it worked for him, rather than against him, then he’d take it.

“Now that you have shown me what I believe might be the Guild’s best chance at getting access to our own ships; assuming you can replicate the magic on a larger scale—” Orhill gave the duo a one-arched-brow look.

Nora and Arthur were staring with rapt attention.

“—come Vesper’s Pits or Diane's wrathful tides we have to ensure that this remains between us. Short of a Geas contract, I wouldn’t have it any other way. What say you Arthur Sturmdrache; will you help us help you?”

Arthur exhaled. He’d come here for what was the equivalent of a Silicon Valley startup pitch. Now he was being tossed into the big leagues, the shark pool, no—leviathan depths would have been more apt. The tension in the guildmaster’s office was so thick you could batter it on a slice of bread without risk of running. Nora gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Fine guild master Orhill, we’re in. It was going to turn out this way sooner rather than later.” Arthur broke the suspense. “Will you tell the higher ups? Assuming there is someone who sits in the big chair seeing as this is only a branch?”

“Hahaha, lad.” Orhill guffawed. “Not this early. I wouldn’t count my golden goose eggs before they hatch. Now, let’s get this contract out of the way shall we?”

They signed on it. Putting his signature down on a Geas contract was a surreal experience; as soon as it was done, the contract disintegrated into motes of magical lights and Arthur felt a weight, like chains settle on his spirit before it disappeared. That…was a Geas.