One day’s worth of training later, and I was slumped feebly atop one of the inn’s tables. The dining room was loud with the sounds of dining, but I was oblivious to all that. At that very moment, my entire being was pain.

After a painful lesson in how much stronger she was, with the excuse of helping me name my spells and giving me a few pointers around how to further develop them, Keidra had taught me the previously mentioned family training technique that sped up the growth of one’s font. It was an interesting technique, essentially forming a circuit of magic throughout your body and circulating it as long as possible until your font ran dry.

But neither the combat nor the training technique were responsible for my current state. No, that hellish training came only after I had drained my font and we stopped for lunch. Then I saw Keidra’s real face. I saw the demon that lives inside her very soul!

For three hours after lunch, I was put through every form of physical torture imaginable. Whether it be running laps, doing push-ups, dragging logs, climbing mountains, or even physical combat, my new demonic superior dragged me through hell.

What? I can hear you saying, Does she plan on making you into some sort of martial sorcerer? Are you to pick up a weapon and go toe to toe with the barbarians and paladins?

Shudder.

Thankfully, no, such a plan was not on the docket. Keidra claimed, though I still have my doubts, that this training is basic training to get into the physical shape required of all adventurers. According to her, those in the more physical line of work perform physical torture upon themselves several magnitudes greater than what I went through.

Shudder.

And I had the delightful pleasure (her words, not mine) of accompanying Keidra on this training regimen every day for the rest of my career among the West Tempest Guild. The moment she said that she also got a look that told me explicitly that any request to leave the guild would be denied.

Shudder. I want to cry, but there are too many muscles involved with that. So I’ll just lay here, on this blissfully flat table…

My thoughts drifted back to the advice she had given after our spar. My three simple spells I could conjure almost as quickly as I could manifest my energy. I had designed each to handle a particular aspect of combat - one for a ranged attack, another for melee, and the third as a defensive tool. My two complex spells served a distinct purpose each. One was a more powerful version of my ranged attack, such that I could channel energy into continuously to increase its power, while the other was more of a utility spell, a way to effect the battlefield without blowing things up.

Having said that, Keidra chided me for using explicitly those spells during the spar. She emphasized that one of a sorcerer’s most powerful tools is their flexibility. While practiced spells were quickly manifested and good for coordination, they could not cover every situation, which meant not limiting myself to them, just preferring them.

I glanced up at the sound of something hitting the table. Keidra stood in front of me, having returned from her little errand. There was a flat metal thing in front of my nose, and the she-devil had a grin on her face. Curious, I focused all my willpower to force my body upright to get a better look at the metal thing.

It was a medallion, of a sort - a metal coin with a long bit of lace strung through it. Upon the coin was a blue tornado, though it descended from the right to touch the left edge. “What’s this?”

“That’s your guild medal,” she replied, plopping into a seat across from me. She fished into her shirt and pulled out an identical one, hanging around her neck. “With it, and your lightning magic, any member of the Tempest Guild will recognize you as a member of the western branch. And members of the other Major Guilds will recognize you as well.”

So it was a form of guild membership proof. And the fact that the tornado pointed left likely signified me as a West Tempest Guild member. “But what’s to prevent someone from looting a corpse and using their medal to pose as a member?”

She snorted, “I take it item attunement wasn’t a part of the surviving information?” I shook my head. “Well, basically after you spend a bit of time with that thing on your body, it’ll attune to your astral body. For most magical items, they only operate for their attuned wielder, and cannot be attuned again until that original wielder dies. Guild medals, however, don’t have any function - instead, when their user dies, the medal splits, marking the original bearer as dead.”

I nodded in understanding. So it was a single-owner magical item. “And if it’s stolen?”

“The color fades if its more than five feet away from its attuner.”

“They thought of everything, huh?”

“Well, of course,” Keidra leaned back in her chair as I put the medal around my neck, tying the lace behind me. “Guilds have been around for decades now. There’s been plenty of time for them to refine their operating procedures.”

A waitress came by and took our dinner orders, After she left, Keidra leaned forwards, “So, I think now that you’re officially part of the Guild it’s time to let you in on the big plan, my ensign.”

“Plan?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup! You didn’t think I was in town for no reason, did you? Platston isn’t exactly close to the West Tempest HQ, and I’m pretty high up in the pecking order to be traipsing around this stomping ground, if I do say so myself. Not to mention Rendal- but I’m getting ahead of myself again. Anyways, I’m here for a reason, and it’s time for you to hear that reason.” With that she leaned back from the table and shut her eyes.

And then she sat there. Yes, just sat there. I gave her a moment to collect her thoughts, but then that moment passed and I gave her another. Then another, and another after that, until I finally said, “Were y-”

“Shh!” she shushed me. A bit taken aback, I shut up and waited more. One more moment later, she finally raised her hands and released something. I didn’t see what it was she released, but realized immediately after that thought that I could no longer hear the other patrons in the dining area. I looked around, and they were all still there, but when their lips moved, there was no sound.

“I just forced the air not to allow sound through in a small radius around our table. It’s no barrier to physical entry, so our waitress won’t be hindered, but now we can talk in private. To be honest, the permission of solid objects makes it more difficult than just barring everything.

Anyways, as I said, i’m in Platston for a reason. And that reason is zombies!”

She stopped, looking at me as if awaiting a reaction. I blinked. That was the extent of my reaction.

Keidra deflated, “Aw, how come you’re okay with zombies? Most non-adventurers at least flinch at the thought.”

I shrugged, “No clue. Amnesia, remember? Most responses are without a discernible reason.”

Keidra briefly hung her head, “You’re killing me, Runes.” She looked up, eagerness in her eyes once more.

“So, I’m here for zombies, or more specifically, their maker.”

This got my attention. “A necromancer?” She nodded to my question.

Necromancy was a touchy subject for a lot of people. While not exactly outlawed, its use was frowned upon outside of certain religious orders. There were some gods whose faithful served on the mortal plane long after their death, and there was even a minor god that was patron of the undead. Thus, though rare, necromancers were not inherently criminal.

But a rogue necromancer, one who used the art in pursuit of power or worldly riches, was incredibly dangerous. When not limited by their faith, they could raise an entire army from a single town’s graveyard. Foes that died in battle could be brought back to unlife to fight for the necromancer. Wars had been fought between nations and a single necromancer, and I could remember (for some reason, amnesia is annoyingly selective) hearing from someone (this is the selected part; no idea from whom) that there was an island nation full of the undead, a past kingdom toppled by a single lich. A lich, by the way, was a necromancer who turned themselves into undead. Nasty being.

“So I take it you’re not the only one after this necromancer?” I asked. “I mean, I know you’re strong, but a necromancer could have a veritable army at their beck and call.”

Keidra shook her head, “Nope, that would indeed be a suicide mission. I’m planning to meet with the rest of the team tomorrow night. This’s actually a group effort by the Four Major Guilds, with the Pantheon Guild spearheading the effort, due to the rogue having once been one of their members. Their Vice Guild Master, Rendal Forst, is the real leader of the operation, though the other two guilds aren’t skimping on their contribution. The Martial Extreme Guild has sent Daruin Stonejaw, armsmaster of the Stonejaw clan, and the Sylvan Arcana Guild has sent us Fel’an Ellandern, an eleventh circle wizard.”

Wow. I had actually heard of one of those people (or at least I remembered hearing… godsdamn amnesia…). Fel’an Ellandern was said to be the greatest arcanist of his generation, and was expected to become a twelfth circle mage before the end of this decade.

A decidedly non-feminine hand placed a tray down at our table, accompanied by a masculine voice, “I do hope you weren’t gossipping about me.”

I turned towards the voice.

Keidra screamed.