“Wolfgang,” Hendrix pushed through crowds of adventurers with renewed purpose. “He will be our tank.”

“Who is he?” I struggled to keep up with the rushing human.

“A drakkon tank,” Hendrix said. “World-renowned. Fought in one of the top guilds a few years back, but he’s a freebooter now.”

“Why would a world-renowned tank want anything to do with us?”

“We are the Keepers of the Book.”

I wasn’t convinced, but Hendrix was on a mission. His strides were long and brisk, and they managed the labyrinth-like city with ease as if he’d been here a million times before. He stopped at a rundown four-way intersection and looked around, giving me time to catch up and catch my breath.

“He’s usually right here,” Hendrix said.

“In the street?”

“No. He would sit on that bench for hours with his achievement tablets on display for all to see.” The bard pointed to a desolate stone bench in front of a stout building. A bank, according to the sign depicting golden coins.

Hendrix moved to the center of the intersection and waved down passing adventurers. None stopped. “Leave me alone,” one said. “Back off. I’m not giving you any gold,” another said. The bard continued, desperate. But anyone he tried to speak to simply ignored him and continued on his or her way.

I was about to tell him to give it up, whatever it was, until someone finally stopped—a tall woman with a body like a human, but the color of amethyst, and wings like a crow. A flowing blue gown ran down to her ankles that dangled together over one side of her saddled horse-sized dove. What looked like the black feet of a crow protruded from beneath the dress. “I’m sorry, but you should be earning your gold, not begging for it.” Her voice was angelic, with an odd, natural echo to it. “There’s an old saying about giving a man a fish…”

“Listen, lady,” Hendrix said, “I’m not asking for gold. I’m looking for Wolfgang the Drakkon. You know where I might find him?”

I nearly intervened. How could Hendrix speak to such a calming presence in such an abrasive way? The woman didn’t seem to mind. Her inhuman lips curled in a smile. They had the same shape as human lips, but they looked hard, like bone, and they were a deep purple, almost black.

“He’s been spending most of his time at the library in the mana district,” she said. “May I ask why you are looking for him? He hasn’t been—”

“You may not,” Hendrix said. “I’ve answered enough questions lately.”

I chuckled at the jab. The winged lady seemed unfazed by his insulting tone, nodded, and urged her massive dove onward. A fragrant cloud that smelled of wildflowers arose from her wake as she rode out of sight.

“What was that all about?” I asked. “She was nice enough to stop and help you out, and that’s how you talk to her?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “That was Clerice. Top healer for the Champions of Velour. Screw her.”

“Why do you hate that guild so much? Aren’t they the best? Shouldn’t we respect them and try to emulate them as best we can?”

“We shouldn’t emulate anyone because no one has gotten into the city yet,” Hendrix said. “We are going to do things our way, and we will get there first. We’ve got the book. And to answer your other question—man, you ask a lot—I hate them because…” He scratched his temple. “I don’t know. Now that you mention it, I have no reason to hate them as much as I do. It’s like I was born to hate them. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve ever even met any of their members until just now.”

I watched him but said nothing. Whatever was going on in his strange mind seemed stressful enough without another question added to it. “Library, then?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowed and distant.

The realization of Hendrix’s misplaced anger had taken its toll on the bard’s upbeat nature and lowered him into a contemplative state that slowed the brisk walking pace he’d help all day. The library loomed ahead above all other buildings in the Mana District. High cylindrical towers swirled upward and tangled together in the sky as if tied into a knot by some giant, dexterous creature.

Hendrix entered through the front doors without taking the time to gaze upon the intensity of the structure. I lingered a while to take in the sights but followed soon after. The interior was even more breathtaking. Rows upon rows of bookshelves ran along the north and south walls. Each was stacked to the brim with tomes, and each was taller than any building in Goldmill. The middle of the room was carpeted in a rich red trimmed with gold and dotted with marble sets of tables and chairs.

Sound seemed to cease the moment we walked into the empty building. Hendrix started for the other end of the room. I wanted to ask if he’d seen something I hadn’t, but the idea of speaking and breaking the pristine silence seemed criminal for some reason. The carpet muffled our footsteps.

The bard found a back room. How he knew of its existence, I didn’t ask. Inside was a lonely marble table set carved from the same marble as the floor. It looked as though it had simply risen into existence. There was no carpet in the room and no bookshelves. Portraits of human faces hung on the wall. I couldn’t tell if they were humorous on purpose or not.

On the chair was a man. Human. He wore an expensive tailored suit of red and blue with chainmail beneath it. His hair was blonde and tied up in a bun like Mother used to do. A thick, neatly trimmed beard clung to his chin, and his dark eyes crawled along the pages of a fat, aged tome.

“G’day,” Hendrix said with a bow.

The man never looked up.

“Excuse me, good sir,” Hendrix tried again.

Same result.

We stood there like fools waiting to be acknowledged. Nothing happened. The man breathed in deep, turned the page, and continued to read.

“It’s clear he wants nothing to do with us,” I said. “Let’s go find someone else. He doesn’t seem too impressive to me anyway.”

The man’s lip twitched at that comment. He swallowed whatever retort he wanted to throw at me and continued to read.

“We want you to join our guild,” Hendrix got right to it. “We need a tank. We need a lot, actually, but we need a tank, too.”

I studied the man while Hendrix spoke. He was level forty. I nearly smacked the bard in the back of the head for embarrassing us by approaching such an established adventurer to join our insignificant guild. But the man looked up.

“You want me to tank?” His voice was soft yet commanding.

“Of course,” Hendrix said. “I know what you’re capable of, Wolfgang. I remember seeing you sitting around with your achievement tablets on display. Impressive stuff.” Hendrix bobbed his head slowly while scrunching his chin.

“You’re both level five and have no banner,” the man Hendrix called Wolfgang said. “I’m guessing your guild is new. You know how decorated my history is, yet you still have the nerve to approach me to join your small guild. This means you also know…” He eyed Hendrix and closed his book. “You know why I am guildless, and yet you still want me to join. Why?”

“Why is he guildless?” I asked the bard, then turned to Wolfgang. “Why are you, guildless?”

He was about to answer, but Hendrix spoke first. “I know that no one wants you right now, but I also know that you miss doing what you do best. We need a tank. You need to tank. The logic seems obvious to me.”

Wolfgang chuckled. “I’d have a better chance of getting into a tanking situation as a pug.”

Hendrix gave me a sharp look as if to say: I’ll explain what that means later.

“Then, why don’t you?” Hendrix stepped forward. He loomed over the seated tank. If Wolfgang was the least bit intimidated, it didn’t show. “We both know nobody else will have you. Your little situation has added a big fat ‘in’ in front of your previous status of ‘famous.’ A desperate little guild like ours is your only hope, and you know it.”

Wolfgang shot up from his chair and stood eye to eye with the bard. My fingers wrapped around my wrench, ready for anything.

“I know you’d never accept a duel, bard, but I can still make your life miserable,” Wolfgang said between clenched teeth. “I may not be what I once was, but I still have plenty of influence.”

“I’m not buying it,” Hendrix said, his stance unwavering. “No one takes you seriously anymore. You couldn’t influence a level twelve’s questing route. You just sit here hidden away deep in the library with nothing but that fat book and a whole bunch of dusty tablets and memories of the time when you were on top of the world. That time was long ago, Wolfgang. But it doesn’t have to be over forever.”

“Let’s leave him alone,” I said as both men glared into the eyes of the other. “He clearly wants nothing to do with us, and from the way you’re talking about him, it seems as if we shouldn’t want anything to do with him either. No offense.”

“His glory days are on hold. They aren’t over for good,” Hendrix held firm in the staring contest. “I’m the only one willing to take a chance on you, Wolfgang. What’s in it for you? You get to tank again.”

“What’s in it for you?” Wolfgang’s voice remained calm.

“There’s a small chance you regain your former skills,” Hendrix said. “If that day ever comes, I will be rewarded by having one of the best tanks in the world on my side.”

“How good was he?” I asked.

“Show him your tablets,” Hendrix said.

Wolfgang kept his eyes locked on Hendrix and reached in his pocket. He pulled out four stone tablets the size of playing cards and held them out for me to grab. I did.

“These are the ones I’m most proud of,” Wolfgang said. “I’ve got hundreds more stashed away in the bank.”

Three of the tablets were made of grey stone etched with the name of what must’ve been some high-level bosses followed by the word kill. The fourth was made of what looked like solid gold. Etched on the front were the words “World first: Mildred.”

“Who’s Mildred?” I asked.

“Who’s Mildred?” It was the first time Wolfgang raised his voice. He stepped forward and stood inches from Hendrix’s face. “You come here, blast me with a string of insults about past glories and tell me I should join your meaningless little guild, and this guy doesn’t even know who Mildred is?”

“There’s a lot he doesn’t know,” Hendrix said. “But he has the heart of a warrior. He almost soloed High-Lord Mallar.”

Almost was the key word. My honest nature made it difficult not to mention the help I’d received from Ucntcme, but I saw what Hendrix was trying to do, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Almost?” Wolfgang said.

“We ended up getting help from some freebooter scout at the last minute,” Hendrix said. “But Billington here lasted a long time on his own with nothing but my buff to help out.”

“Well, congrats,” Wolfgang said to me. “But I’ve rolled with the best of the best in my day. Almost soloing a level five boss won’t convince me of anything. No offense.”

I put my hands up to show that none had been taken.

“This is no longer your day,” Hendrix said. “The Champions of Velour hunt for a way into Atlaris as we speak, and what are you doing? Rejecting the only recruitment offer you’ve received in the last two years.”

“An offer from two level fives who don’t know what they’re talking about,” Wolfgang said.

“Do you think we will be level five forever?” Hendrix’s persistence was impressive. I’d been ready to walk out the building back when we couldn’t get his eyes off the book. “Do you think some adventurers just spawn as a level five and stay that way forever? Were you not level five once?”

“I felt the ‘don’t know what they are talking about’ portion of what I said was the more important point, but you’re right. People can learn. And until you do, leave me alone.”

“Maybe you should hear the name of our guild and the origins of its name.” I stepped forward and reached into my pocket for the golden book. Hendrix gripped my arm and shook his head. “Your tactics aren’t working,” I said. “I know he’d join if he knew.”

“We don’t want someone to join because of it,” Hendrix said, pointing his chin to my pocket and completely contradicting his own plan. “We could get people to leave the top ten guilds because of it if we wanted to. But wouldn’t you prefer having a team full of adventurers who joined us for the challenge and the thrill of adventure instead?”

Wolfgang eyed my pocket and pursed his lips.

“I would,” I said. “However, that doesn’t seem possible right now. I suggest we continue onward, level up a bit more, become a little more impressive than we are now, then come back to recruit.”

“That would be the prudent course, yes,” Hendrix said. “The problem is that we are going to Dark Talon Woods next. The first dungeon is in Dark Talon Woods. We should have a core group before wandering into our first dungeon. Trust me. You don’t want to pug such a big portion of your group.”

“Explain.” I sighed, even though I knew Hendrix was just as annoyed as I was.

“A pug is someone who joins your group through an open invitation,” Wolfgang said, still looking at my pocket where Hendrix still gripped my wrist. “They’re usually a freebooter, sometimes a lower-ranking member of another guild, always a bad time.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “What’s in your pocket?”

“Oh, see?” Hendrix let go of my wrist and walked a few steps away, swinging his hands in the air in frustration.

“Relax,” I snapped at the bard, then met the tank’s eyes. “None of your concern.”

“You’ve made it my concern.” Wolfgang’s eyes narrowed. “Who exactly are you two? You come in here like you own the place. You insult me to no end, expecting it to convince me somehow to join you. You don’t even know who Mildred is, and now this mystery in your pocket. This strange thing in your pocket that can allegedly entice anyone to join your fledgling guild. What is it? Who are you?”

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I agreed with Hendrix when it came to keeping the book secret. I could see what the bard meant by having a core group of adventurers who trusted us before ever knowing about my possession of the book. “I’ll admit I know very little of the world. I spent a long time in Goldmill and only began my adventure recently. Is our guild worthy of your presence? I don’t know. Are you worthy of our guild’s presence? I don’t know. It seems like there are a lot of secrets in this room, and so long as that’s the case, neither of us can judge the other with any accuracy. The item I hold in my pocket is quite rare, yes. It would likely convince you to join, yes. But you seem to have some devastating handicap that has caused you to fall from great heights. If you tell me what happened to you, I will share with you what I hold in my pocket.”

“You’ve got the princess’ diary, don’t you?” His eyes were so wide I thought they might fall out.

Hendrix stood in the corner of the room with a hand slapped over his face. I couldn’t figure out how I’d given it away. I never even mentioned a book or anything. The tank loomed over me, staring into my eyes like a predator in the bushes.

“No,” I lied. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“Oh, forget it,” Hendrix approached and settled at my side. “Yes. This dwarf, who knows nothing about everything, has found the princess’ diary.”

“Where’d it drop?”

“A wolf. Just outside Goldmill.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Hendrix shrugged.

Wolfgang glared at me with an enthusiastic passion that verged on madness. “What did it say? Did it give you any clues?”

“It’s empty.” I took a step back. “Says nothing yet.”

“This happened recently?”

“Few days ago,” Hendrix said. “I met him in a patch of woods near Brookdell.”

“And you want me to be your tank despite my situation?” Wolfgang said. “At the risk of hurting my chances, bard, you were right when you said anybody would join your guild if they knew about this. Yet you came to me. Why?”

“You destroyed your chance when you discovered the book,” Hendrix said.

“Hold on,” I said. “Wolfgang, are you saying you’d be willing to join?”

“Well, of course, I would.” He grinned. “You’ve got the book. We’d be the first guild to get into Atlaris. The Champions of Velour would kneel before us. Their tears would energize us like mana. I hate them!”

I took another step back. A much bigger one than moments before. “What is it with these Champions of Velour?”

Wolfgang inhaled a deep breath as if he were going to explode in a rage-fueled rant. He exhaled softly and closed his eyes. “They’re just a bit cocky, is all. Arrogant. Distasteful behavior. It doesn’t matter. Well, hand me the charter, I’ll sign.”

“Great.” I fished the scroll from my pocket and handed it over. Hendrix snatched it first.

“Nice try, Wolfy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I already told you,” Hendrix said. “No one is joining if they already know about the book. You missed your chance, pal.” He dangled the scroll in front of him in a mocking manner.

“Which one of us is the guildmaster?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

“You are, Billington, but I think—”

“I am. I say Wolfgang can join.”

“We don’t want him. Trust me.” Hendrix leaned close and spoke quietly even though the tank could easily hear him. “He’s nothing compared to what he once was. I’ll explain why when we leave, but for now, just trust me.”

“That may be true,” I said. “But he’s still a level forty who knows a lot about being in a high-end guild. Even if he is as weak as you say, he will still, at worst, be valuable for his expertise and wisdom. I can learn a lot from him about leading a guild.”

“You were right, bard,” Wolfgang said. “The dwarf does have heart.”

“But Billington,” Hendrix lowered his voice further. “He knows about the book. We only accept those who join without the knowledge of the book.”

“You only joined me because of the book,” I said. “You first approach me for one reason and one reason alone. Gold. You were simply going to beg me for a few coins before continuing on your merry way. You saw my book, you freaked out, and you basically forced yourself to be my companion. I’m not complaining, because I have learned a lot from you and I now consider you a friend. Why, then, might the same not happen with Wolfgang?”

“Whatever,” Hendrix started for the exit of the small room. “It’s your guild, I suppose, even though you’d still be spying on those cultists, quivering in fear if it weren’t for me. Go on…” His words trailed off as he got deeper into the main room of the library.

I held out my hand, offering Wolfgang a shake. He received it. “Welcome to the Keepers of the Book,” I said. “I’ll get that scroll for you to sign as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” Wolfgang said. “Here’s how it’s going to work from here. You and the bard go out there and continue leveling up. I’ll stay here while you do so. Whenever you guys get to a dungeon, contact me, and I’ll be on my way.” He sat back down and continued reading his massive book.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the book.

“I’m searching for something,” Wolfgang said. “I’ve been searching for years.”

“What are you looking for?”

“My glory days,” Wolfgang said. “My lost strength.”