I sit on one of the moderately uncomfortable wooden chairs, arms crossed, tapping a single finger against my arm and stare at one of the many glass booths where an ent-like adventurer sits opposite of a human girl working for the Adventurer’s Guild. The many long tree branches the ent’s body press against the glass walls of the booth. Finally, the adventurer stands up and turns around, scraping the glass and swiping paperwork off the poor girl's table. He opens the glass door and barely squeezes through, leaving the booth filled with leaves. After the door is closed and a minute or two of the girl getting her things in order, I hear an announcement echo through the hall.

“R three hundred fifty-five! R three hundred fifty-five!”

I’m still not sure where the voice is coming from. There are no apparently visible speakers installed, nor should there be any in this sort-of-medieval fantasy world. I suppose that even if I asked, the answer would be “magic”.

Two rows of chairs in front of me, twenty chairs to the left, a dark elf ranger-type slim male adventurer stands up and walks to the freed-up booth, with a piece of brown paper clenched in his right hand. The same piece of paper I’m holding with my number in line.

Another booth’s door opens, a merman adventurer crawls out of the booth, flapping his giant fishtail about. How horrible! Couldn’t they show a little more consideration toward water-based races? I get up from my chair and am about to summon up some water to help the merman on his way when I’m interrupted by a loud “Ahem!”.

I turn to the source of the so-called ‘cough’ and see the panther girl looking at me and pointing at the wall on the opposite side. I turn my head to where she’s pointing. There’s a large white poster, in height it is comparable to my body and in length, it is spread across the entire wall. In bold, red letters it’s written: “SKILL/SPELL/MAGIC USE FORBIDDEN. PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.”

I gulp. Isn’t that a bit extreme? And while I’m supposed to be strong, I don’t feel like trying my chances against an entire Guild devoted to regulating super-powered adventurers.

“Q one hundred eleven! Q one hundred eleven!”

An old lady hobbles to the booth which the merman left earlier. She uses a walking stick for aid, its handle is adorned by four full-sized skulls, hanging by golden chains. I can’t shake the feeling that those golden chains are the same chains used to carry the dungeon medallions, and that they probably belonged to the same people whose skulls are now adorning this walking stick. I have absolutely no proof of this wild speculation whatsoever.

“R three hundred fifty-six! R three hundred fifty-six!”

I tap my finger against my crossed arm one last time, this time harder than before, pressing it into my arm. Stay calm! Stay calm! To kill some time while I wait, I decide to speak with some adventurers sitting next to me. Hm. How to start up a conversation? Oh, I know!

“So, do you know how they make those announcements happen?” I ask the imposing grizzly bear sitting next to me on two wooden chairs at once.

“Magic,” he growls and dips his paw into a giant brown clay jar in his lap. When he pulls the paw out, it is covered in honey, which he proceeds to lick with his tongue, while at the same time expertly catching any honey that drips back into the jar. A single glare from the bear in my direction tells me that I better not disturb this process.

No luck, huh? That’s alright! I won’t give up that easily! I turn instead to the nice little girl sitting to the left of me. She wears an adorable white nightgown, though I can’t see her face as it is completely obscured by her straight, long, black hair.

“So… How long have you been waiting here?” I ask her innocently and smile warmly.

She turns her head to me, revealing her skin, paler than a corpse and eyes as black as death itself. With a hoarse, eerie voice she mutters, “Seven days.”