The lobby was starting to fill up with people when Kalden and Aspen emerged out of the office, men and women of all sizes, old and young, wearing all sorts of attire and armour, all very fantasy-esque. Their weapons too were very reminiscent of Dungeons and dragons. The only surprising thing was the lack of at least from what he could see, any traditional types of mages, those with the pointy hats and long stick. There were a few, but only a handful, so far, only 2 from the 50 plus people he could see as he walked down the stairs.

“Message boards show our current listings of available missions. You can take a look over there while you wait as I process your application.” Aspen pointed towards a giant corkboard that was plastered with paper in a neat uniform fashion, a first for any corkboard Kalden had seen before as she headed behind the counter once more.

As Kalden looked at the board, however, his eyes scanning through the litany of requests, all generic ones, bandit hunting and the like, his ears picked out the not so hushed whispers between Tina and Aspen.

“So how did it go?” Tina asked.

“Fine, village kid from Versun.” Aspen sighed,

“Ahh… What a waste. Here I was hoping he was an otherworlder.” Tina groaned

“Yeah I know right? He checks all the boxes! Good looking, confident, fish out of water look.” Aspen all but huffed. “Here was I thinking I could finally hook up with an otherworld and all the fame and glory it would bring.”

Seriously?

Kalden was not sure whether to feel offended or proud of what he’s overhearing from the two guild employees, but right now, they are definitely on his ‘to avoid’ list.

“Yeah, I know, right? Alica from the Toubonne branch got herself one just like this too.”

“But, how did you know he’s a local? Did you ask him?”

“Yeah, kinda? He had the ID cards and passport ready, otherworlders don’t have that right?”

“No... unless they were born here, but those ones are almost unnoticeable. Or at that point already has a party of girls with them.”

“Sigh… Yeah, I know right… Sigh… when will my hero ever come I wonder…”

Hopefully never.

“Ah, I forgot, I asked him out for tea, should I still go? I’m not sure…”

“Why not? He’s good looking, you never know. He might be good for you. Or maybe he’s secretly one of those reborn ones.”

“Nah, I don’t think so, look at his place of birth Vesun! That’s farming country, out in the boonies. I doubt he even has a denarius to his name.” Charlotte huffed.

Instinctively, Kalden’s hand ghosted over the pocket where his wad of money hid.

“I don’t know…”

If you can’t decide, let me do it for you.

Kalden looked up from his mock inspection of the missions’ board,

“Ms Aspen, is the processing complete?”

Aspen looked momentary startled for a split-second, but quickly regained her professional smile,

“Oh yes, just give me one moment.”

*Clank.

“Here you go, with this adventurer tag you are a certified adventurer. I wish you the best of luck.”

Kalden looked at the tag, memories slamming back to him like a wave. The tag was made of steel, with a steel chain, in a style that was reminiscent of a dog tag, no, it was a dog tag. Kalden thought. Its purpose is the same. Information too, name, general description, he had held on to too many of them to know what it looked like and the weight it brought with it.

“Is something wrong, Mr Ruth?” Aspen asked.

“Oh no,” Kalden shook his head, just suddenly remembered I got to go somewhere after this.” he looked up at Aspen, with a faux apologetic smile “Sorry but I won’t be able to join you for tea.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Some Other time maybe.” Aspen looked more relieved than disappointed.

“Yeah, maybe…” Kalden wanted to leave, but he still had a few more questions he needed answering before leaving.

“With this tag, does that mean I’m free to use whatever weapon I like?”

Tina answered this, “Pretty much yeah, except for guns, you need to go through a course here for that. Nothing too serious though, just some basic fire safety, cleaning and how to use it. Those are pretty expensive, however, so it’s unlikely-”

“Oh, how do I sign up for that?”

The two elves’ eyes lit up in surprise.

“You have one?”

“Yeah, does this count?” pulling out the Mk 23 pistol, he slid out the magazine and ejected the round from the chamber just in case as he held it up for the trio.

“Oo… that’s definitely a gun, I haven't seen one like this before though. What is it?” Tina asked.

Kalden shrugged, “A Heckler and Koch Mark 23,” he answered, quickly following up the answer with a question of his own, “So where do I get my certification.”

“Ooh… well, old man, Sivle is out back by the firing range practically all day, he’s free most of the time since most people don’t use guns. You’re free to go find him at any time till 7.”

“Got it thanks, one last thing, “Do you have any other missions besides those on the board, I see mostly bandit camps and gathering missions, they say they need a party of at least two? I want something that can be done in the city itself.”

“Hmm… oh, yes we do have one. It’s on a separate list. The missing/wanted person list.” Aspen pointed to separate board on the opposite side of where the mission board was tacked on. This one was messy, papers stapled on with no regard, it also looked much fuller than the missions board.

“We put up all the wanted people and missing people in and around the country on that board. The reward is stated in the paper.”

“Right. Thank you.” Kalden gave a curt nod and quickly left before either elves could ask any more questions.

==================================================================

Despite the size of the Guild Hall, navigating it was straight forward, with signs plastered or hanging on every corner of the building, as well as a map, showing where one’s current location and where everything else is.

Which for a building as large as this was absolutely necessary, getting from the front desk to the courtyard at the back took Kalden 5 minutes of walking, having to put one eye on looking at the appropriate signs and another on the winding corridors least he walks down the wrong one.

The courtyard was mostly a large outdoor training yard, as wide as the Guildhall itself but stretching out even further, till the edge of the forest in the distance, fenced off by a large chain link fence.

A map of the courtyard had been helpfully placed on the entrance. Essentially, the yard split into several sections, the middle had several courts for sparring or other forms of hand to hand combat training, the left consisted of a single large target range and the right was made for more recreational activities with a pool dominating much of that area.

As tempting as a dip in the water during this warm day sounds, there are more important things to do right now, he was here for the firearms qualification as there was no point in having his gun if he’s going to get into trouble with the law for having it.

There were several people already at the range, a group of about 10 people, huddled close together practising shooting with what looks like lever-action rifles. Their whoops and cheers every time one of their peers fires a shot sounded like a bunch of college frat boys that had too much to drink in a party.

It was easy to identify old man Sivle, being the only one not huddled together in the group and clearly, being old. He was also the only one in the range wearing hearing protection. He was at the back, surrounded by gun parts, a disassembled bolt action on the wooden table.

Kalden approached him and asked, “Old man Sivle?”

“I’m not old!” Sivle snapped, “I’m only sixty.”

Woah. Younger than the past me but already lost his hair. That must have sucked.

Sivle took a glance at Kalden and grunted, “Huh. Guns must be getting cheaper if people like you can get one. I take it you are here for the gun certification?”

Kalden nodded his head, “Yeah, Aspen, the lady from the front desk said to see you?”

“Yeah. I’m about the only one in this goddamn branch that can properly shoot a gun.” Sivle grumbled, his eyes glancing over at the group of adventurers as he got up from his chair. “Did your gunsmith father give you one? Or are you here to get the certification to get one?”

“I have one,” Kalden replied, producing his pistol for Sivle to see. Whose eyes lit up at the sight of the gun. “Can… Can I have a look?”

“Sure,”

Kalden handed the gun over to Sivle after making sure the gun was indeed empty, he’s confident Sivle will be careful, but one could never be too sure.

Sivle took the gun, slowly and carefully, as if inspecting a rare artefact, gave the gun a once over. Rubbing the black metal finish, peering into the barrel itself.

“A semi-automatic pistol. It’s rare to see it ‘round these parts, of excellent quality too…is your father from Almain by any chance?”

“No,” Kalden shook his head, “I’m from Vesun. Where’s Almain?”

“You don’t know where Almain is? … Oh right, Versun, farmer’s country.” Sivle stood there a second, debating whether to say more, “The Empire of Almain is not a place, it’s a large country just across the Bergen mountain ranges to the north of us. They are known for their weapons. They made a gun like this too, so I thought your father might be from there too.”

“Ah, I see…”

“A Remulan gunsmith made this… Vesun….” Sivle muttered, something inside Sivle suddenly then clicked. “What’s your name boy?”

“Kalden Ruth?”

“By any chance… is your father named Phillip?”

Kalden nodded, it was a lie of course, but that was cover story Redgrave had provided him, the information written on a scrap of paper previously sandwiched in between the pages of his passport.

The supposed son of Phillip Ruth, a famed gunsmith in the empire for his eccentric designs whom lived in the forests of Versun for the latter part of his life, and just recently, a week ago, died of pneumonia.

Sivle looked stunned by the admission, and for a second, he stood there, his eyes staring blankly at Kalden before his hands suddenly shot out, grabbing roughly onto Kalden’s shoulders, shaking it.

“What! That piece of shit had a kid and did not even bother telling me??” he practically shouted. “How’s your old man doing?

Kalden looked away, lying about being the son of someone left a rather bad taste in his mouth, but it was a cover story, and he would have to stick to it unless he wants his status as an otherworlder to come to light.

“He’s… he’s gone, illness took him.” Kalden replied, applying just the right amount of emotion behind the voice to express his sadness, but not too much to appear forced.

Sivle stopped his shaking, briefly turning his head away, and sighed. “Pestilence.” He tsked, “Can’t say I’m not familiar with it. What a shame, our country has lost an extraordinary gunsmith, and she doesn’t even know. What a shame.” He sighed again, “No point thinking about it. Back to the subject at hand, your certification…”

The certification was a rather simple affair, it was as Tina described it as. The same old basic firearms safety talk he had back in basic. Sivle used a revolver to show off how to clean it, the works. He even showed how to properly shoot a gun and the postures, Kalden felt like he was back in basic training again, just without a shouty drill sergeant by his ear.

“Well, that’s the basics down. All that’s left is for you to do is to shoot off a couple of rounds for me to judge your accuracy. Will you be using your gun or one of mine?”

“I’ll use mine.”

“Alright.” Sivle led Kalden towards the range where a traditional paper target had been laid out. “50 meters. Take your time. It’s okay if you don’t land your shots.” Sivle said, giving an encouraging pat on the back.

The gun felt familiar in Kalden’s hands, it’s his go-to side-arm for much of his career in both the army and CIA after all. But this was a new body, and Kalden was not sure if his skills had degenerated after the last couple years of no practice.

Oh well. That’s what the range is for after all.

With both hands steadying the gun, he took aim at the target and squeezed the trigger twice, loosening two rounds in quick succession.

“My, you are by far the best shot I’ve seen in some time, this is not your first time firing a gun is it?” Sivle whistled when he came back with the results, two rounds, just slightly off centre with a small gap between shots.

Kalden shook his head, “No, I practised regularly back home.”

Damn. I’m growing rusty.

“Of course Phillip would train his son on marksmanship.” Sivle grinned, “Well, I’m going to get your certification approved, you can continue practising if you want.”

Kalden waited till Sivle was away before slipping out his watch from under his jacket sleeve, tapping on the device to bring up the webstore app, purchasing four more magazines and a box of 50.45 ACP 185 grain JHP rounds for a grand total of 500 denarius.

With a new paper target up, Kalden began putting rounds into it, practising his reloads, aim speed and accuracy. Hopefully, he would be back up to how he was back when he was in Delta by the end of the week. Doubtful he could, but it wouldn’t hurt to aim high, figuratively speaking of course.

He was in the middle of sliding a fresh magazine when he felt a tug on his jacket behind him.

At first, when Kalden looked around for the culprit he did not see anyone, it was on the second tug did he think to look down, it was a boy, at least Kalden thinks he is, his face was rather androgynous to say for sure, the top of the head had been covered with a hood, only allowing strands of greyish white hair to peek through.

“Hello?” Kalden greeted politely, bending forward slightly to order to come face to face with the boy.

“Erm… Hi… hello …” the boy stammered, grinning nervously. “My name is Rosen.”

Kalden smiled softly at that, returning the greeting, “Hello Rosen, my name is Kalden. Can I help you?”

Rosen slowly nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment, “This might be a weird request, but can you teach me how to shoot?”

Kalden blinked, and then for the second time in surprise, he never had a kid ask him something like this before and he was not sure what to say, the few times he had seen kids at the range they were accompanied by their parents who themselves would be teaching their children the ropes.

Rosen must have seen the apprehension in Kalden’s eyes as he quickly fished out adventurer tag that was hanging around his neck, showing it to Kalden, “I am sixteen.” He said.

Despite his height and looks, if what the tag says is true and Kalden had no need to dispute that, Rosen’s sixteenth birthday is only three months away. Making him only just two years younger than Kalden and also, the tag says he joined the guild last year, making the boy his senior in terms of work experience.

“I see… Do you have a gun?”

“Yeah!” Rosen quickly produced what looked like a copy of the Colt Single Action Army revolver.

“Ammo?”

A handful of brass rounds were fished out. “Enough?” Rosen grinned.

“We shall see.” Kalden replied, returning the grin.

He had to admit, it was rather fun, teaching how to properly shoot to someone in a much more casual setting, without the added worry of being shot in the back, unlike the ANA idiots back on earth.

==================================================================

As it turns out, teaching someone basic fire drills, posture and how to properly shoot a revolver quickly while away the hours.

Kalden had to admit, it was rather fun, teaching how to properly shoot to someone in a much more casual setting, without the added worry of being shot in the back, like the ANA idiots back on earth.

“Thanks, Kalden.” Rosen bowed, as he prepared to leave, it was getting late, the sun was starting to set, projecting the last of its golden rays of sunlight on purplish-pink clouds.

“No problem,” Kalden replied as he waved goodbye, he had elected to stay behind to continue his practise slightly longer. Old man Sivle had come and dropped off the certification earlier, which gave Kalden the added benefit of being allowed to use the range till 8 pm, two additional hours.

As he watched Rosen’s small figure disappear behind the frost door, Kalden wondered if he would ever see the boy again. Adventuring is a dangerous business, and from what he had heard from Rosen’s own experience does not pay off at all at times.

He shook away the thoughts, it’s only his first day here in this world, no need to think too much about his current line of work yet.

Another 100 denarius was spent for another box of ammo to fill up all five of his empty magazines later, and he returned right back to shooting, he was on his second magazine when he heard the collective shuffles of several people.

Not a good sign.

But Kalden ignored it, concentrating on counting the number of bullets left in his mag before needing a reload. He was just sliding in his third when what he desperately did not want to happen happened.

“Hey, kid. Nice gun, you have there. Mind if I borrow it?”

Someone behind him asked, arrogance and juvenile cockiness dripping off him.

Kalden all but rolled his eyes, people asking to try out someone else’s guns in the range is not a rare sight, neither is it frowned upon, but they don’t usually ask with an ‘I’m better than you attitude’.

“How about no?” Kalden answered flatly, without even looking back, continuing his shooting spree.

“Now why not?” the voice sneered, jerking Kalden’s shoulder’s back, causing him to miss his target.

That was dangerous, you fuck.

Kalden turned around to face his assailants, as predicted, it was the ‘college frat boys’ they’ve surrounded Kalden in his booth, every one of them being slightly taller than Kalden, were staring down at him with mischievous eyes.

“Because you guys will break it. Now buzz off.” Kalden warned, stuffing his gun back into its holster, zipping up his jacket as an extra layer of protection, before turning back around to gather all his loose rounds and magazines.

“Oi, look at me when I speak to you.” One of the guys in the group snapped, yanking Kalden back around by the hoodie.

“Now, now, be nice.” The one Kalden assumed to be the leader spoke up, wearing one of those broad fake smiles usually seen on TV.

“Can this get any more fucking cliché?” Kalden cursed under his breath.

“You see…” the leader begun to speak, and Kalden pictured himself rolling his eyes, he can see where this was going, he’s not going to agree of course, and this is going to be annoying as hell to deal with.

“… my gun is not working, and yours looked rather special-”

“No.” Kalden replied, “I can see where this is going, and my answer is no, fix your own damn gun.”

“Hey! Show Maita here some respect. His father is a senator!”

“And is that supposed to mean something?” Kalden huffed, “he can be emperor for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

“He’s also the chairman of the Melarini gun factory.” Maita boosted.

“What does that got to mean?”

“It means that gun of yours is made by my father’s company. So technically it’s mine.”

Kalden stared at the spoiled adult baby incredulously, as he jotted down his almost featureless features internally, deciding not to even grace the ridiculous statement with a response, Kalden climbed over the booth into the range, away from the pretentious group of people.

“Why you!”

“Oi! What are you guys doing crowding over there!” Sivle shouted, forcing the group to part.

“Tsk. The old man’s back. Let’s go guys. No point staying here anymore.” One of the group members cursed. Mutters of agreement rang out and they quickly slithered away, out of the range.

“Did they hurt you?” Sivle asked, concerned, as he gave Kalden a quick once over when he climbed back over.

“I’m good, thanks, Mr Sivle,” Kalden replied.

“Mr Sivle. It’s been a long time since anyone called me that anymore, they just call me old man nowadays. I like it.” Sivle grinned, ruffling Kalden’s hair warmly. “Sorry about this, I wish I could do something about Maita and his gang. But his father-”

“Is a senator, and the owner of a gun company.”

“Yeah, I guess you already heard of them.”

“I have now.” Kalden huffed, “Someone should teach that dick a lesson.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that, as much as I would love to see that happen.” Sivle said with a cheeky smile, “The Melarini family is obsessed with appearances and prestige, even the reason why Maita was called Maita was for prestige reasons.”

“What kind of prestige could even be garnered from that?”

Sivle shrugged, “Beats me, but the name is supposedly Japanese, and everything Japanese is considered prestigious to the idiots up in Capitoline Hill.”

“Ha. I’ll like to see what they could even do to me.” Kalden laughed sarcastically, “You got my certification?”

“Oh, right, here you go. Congratulations.” Sivle beamed, handing Kalden a second stamped tag. “So…” Sivle looked up towards the gradually darkening skies, “It’s almost time for dinner, would you like to join me? My treat.”

Kalden shook his head,

He’s most likely going to ask about my ‘father’. Best not chance it.

“A tempting offer, but it’s been a long day, I just want to rest for now. Do you happen to know of any good inns nearby?”

“The guildhall offers rooms for its members, it's cheap, but comfortable enough, a touch too cramped for my liking, however.”

“I’ll take it, where do I book one?”

==================================================================

Sivle helpfully, with the help of the map, pointed Kalden towards the front desk of the Inn wing of the Guild Hall, which so happens to be where the tavern/restaurant was located. They walked there together in relative silence, with a few words of small talk exchanged, luckily, none about Kalden’s supposed father. He’s going to need to give Redgrave a call soon. But not know, with so much happening today, he just wants a good night sleep.

When Sivle said the room was small, Kalden did not expect it to be this small, with about 12 square meters of space, excluding the bathroom, the large king-sized bed dominated much of the room, leaving only space for a small wardrobe in the corner and a desk.

On the plus side, however, the bed was soft, and blankets comfortable, it was also long enough to fit his frame with plenty of space to spare. The room even had climate control, he’s not sure how it works, but from a switch on the wall, he could set the temperature in four different modes, the higher the number, the colder it was. He then set the A/C to full before burying himself under the covers, drifting off to sleep.