The New Guild Master [Chapter 3] - Don't Judge Me by My Looks

“Gyah! Gooh! Gaah! Gyoh!”

The Goblins scratched the barn door with renewed intensity.

“Sylvanuuuus! Saaaave meeeee!”

A crack splintered open where a small hole had once been. A moment later, a claw burst through, grabbing at empty air in a flurry of twist and turns.

“Uwaaah! I’m gonna dieee!” Tristan squealed in panic.

Desperate, he ruffled through stacks of hay.

There’s gotta be something here that can help me defend myself.

“Kakakaka. Kakakaka. Kakakaka.”

He found a half-broken pitchfork buried in a mound of hay. Arming himself, he turned to face the flailing goblin hand, attacking it with a shout.

“Aaaah!”

He pierced the hand, feeling only a slight resistance as he dragged himself downwards, cleaving it with his momentum. Tristan imagined the owner of the hand would not be happy about his current predicament. A yelp of agony coming from the other side of the barn door confirmed his hypothesis.

Despite his desperate hope, another hand did not emerge to take it’s place.

“Kakaka. Kakaka. Kakaka.”

It’s no good. I have to find a way to get rid of them all.

“Kakaka. Kakaka. Kakaka.”

Tristan didn’t think of himself as religious, but he called out to unnamed Gods. He vowed to devote himself to any deity - good or evil - that would arrange his rescue or grant him a means of escape.

A sudden silence emerged.

“Damn fiends. Ya’ trespass on ma’ property and thinks ya’ can go about yer’ business of eating my one an’ only employee?”

The boss is here!

“Gyeeh? Gaah? Giih? Gyon?” the startled goblin cries quickly turned to agonizing screams.

Oi!? What is that old man doing to them?

“Ya’ ain’t running from me! [Flame Tornado].”

Beams of light shot through the cracks of the barn door, followed by a thunderclap that shook Tristan to the core. Moments later the faint glow that filled the barn, slowly began to fade.

“S-Sylvanus!” No reply.

Tristan could hear his own manic heartbeat. His mind was racing.

Did he make it? That blast must have taken care of the goblins- but what if he’s in trouble? I’ve got to help him- but what use could I be? I’d only get in the way- I can’t just sit here! The old man could be at death’s door.

With trembling hands, he unlatched the barn’s door and heaved the large wooden beam onto the floor. Strengthening his resolve, Tristan thrust himself into the night.

The moon was out in full bloom. It’s eerie glare painted the the barnyard in shades of gray.

The goblins were dead. Three of them were lying in front of the barn house, charred to the bone.

Sylvanus was unconscious, his hair gone and his body covered in blotchy red and black sores.

Tristan knelt at his side, two fingers felt his neck for a pulse.

It’s faint. But he’s still alive. These look like third degree burns. He can still recover if he receives immediate medical attention.

Tristan looked at his surroundings, his hope slipping away.

There’s no way I can get to the guild house and back in time to have Solei heal him. And I don’t have the strength to lug him all the way there by myself.

He cursed his own weakness.

“I’ve got the [Heal] skill. So, I’m going to heal you myself.” he intoned.

Sylvanus did not stir.

Tristan wasn’t wearing any sleeves, but he pretended to roll them up anyway, as a form of psychological preparation.

Do I need to chant something? I have it on my skill sheet so it’s probably not necessary… so all I need is a mental image right?

He pictured Sylvanus as he was the day before. Loud and boisterous. A pang of guilt shot through him.

“H-heal.” Nothing. “I cast heal upon you…” he said, frantically waving his hands in the air.

Nothing’s happening!?

“… I can’t accept this you dirty old man! C’mon dammit! I told you to fucking [Heal]!”

This time he noticed a change. Grilled flesh seemed to stretch upon itself, melding into a single smooth, sickish pallor. Like the sound of a thousand marching ants, he could hear the folds of skin being regrown and sown back together.

Slowly, Sylvanus’ skin began to return to it’s usual pallet. He breathed a sigh of relief.

W-wait? W-what’s going on…?

Tristan began to sway. He felt as if his strength had been drawn out and sucked into an invisible vacuum. Though he struggled to remain cognizant, his consciousness soon faded.

“Now that was a foolish thing ya’ did.”

There was a warm tone to this voice.

S-Sylvanus?

Tristan blinked, the stark rays of the sun briefly eclipsing his vision.

“Still. I’m glad to be alive. So, should I thank the Gods that ya’ don’t got a lick of sense?”

He sat up. And immediately regretted it.

“Easy boy. Take off yer’ shirt…”

Tristan complied.

“Uh-huh… you got somethang’ on yer’ backside. They’s look like bedsores to me. And those scabs be a heck of sight!”

Tristan made a brief self-examination. Except for his hands and face, there were black scabs littered across his whole body. His knees and elbows were glazed in a light purplish hue. His skin hurt with each touch, and the slightest movement sent jets of pain coursing through him.

“W-what happened?” he stared at Sylvanus, lost in bewilderement.

“Hmph! I thought you was smarter than that?”

“I-I… h-healed you?”

“Yeah. Ya’ did.” he grinned. “And almost died in the process!”

Thank goodness! The old fart still lives!

“Now settle down there.” Sylvanus caught the gleam of joy in his eyes. "I’m sure ya’ heard this before. But if ya’ cast a spell you don’t got the mana fer’ it will leech the rest from your [Stamina Points]. And when that’s done, it will tap into your life force, lowering your [Hit Points]. "

He stretched out a bony hand. Tristan received it, and lurched to his feet.

“Now I might have been a lil’ overzealous with ma’ magic. Ever since I saw that Fat Goblin I been itchin’ for a fight. I was careless… I let ma’ mana drop to zilch with a spell that came back to bite me in da’ ass…” he wrung his head in his hands. “… but what ya’ did last night was a boatload of stupid! Now, I’ll forgive ya’ on account of us both standing here with our dangly bits where they ought to be.”

Tristan did some mental arithmetic.

[Heal] costs [20 MP] while I only have [10 MP] on a full charge… my stamina maxes out at [8 SP]… and my [Status] says my health is [8/10 HP] right now… so all of the stamina I had last night was taken along with 20% of my life force to compensate for the shortfall in mana… yikes!

“W-will I recover?”

Sylvanus laughed without restraint. “Ya’ sure will! But I don’t know about that head of yers’, it could be permanently damaged. Haha!”

Even those insensitive remarks couldn’t dampen Tristan’s good mood.

I got into a battle with fate and came out swinging! I feel like a string of easy victories are waiting for me!

“But I must say, where’d ya’ learn magic like that? Are all nobles tutored in the mystic arts?” Sylvanus tilted his head to one side, as if he were trying to peer into Tristan’s distant past.

Solei must be something special. Her stats are buffed out even though she’s only twelve. And this old man… is dangerous!

“W-well, you could say that…”

Who knows what my former self was capable of? But I’m almost certain there was nothing ‘noble’ about me.

“… haha.” Tristan laughed sheepishly. “That ‘was’ risky. You know I don’t even have enough mana to properly cast it- not even once!”

Sylvanus’ eyebrows flew upwards.

“Ya’ don’t say…? It usually ain’t possible to even ‘learn’ a spell that ya’ can’t afford to cast.” He shook his head wistfully. “But yer’ full of surprises, ain’t ya?”

His face suddenly fell into a shroud of darkness.

“What’s wrong?” Tristan ventured.

“Oh… it’s nothing really. It’s just I been lookin’ at yer’ physique and yer’ lack of talent fer’ magic. Ya’ might not say much boy, but those things say a lot…” he paused, choosing his next words carefully.

“… ya’ might not have been appreciated much where ya’ came from. But I always recognize hard work. And I’ll always reward that kinda loyalty.” he whipped out a silver coin from a loose pocket in his coveralls.

A whole silver! I’ll be able to pay back Huck in no time!

Tristan had a boyish grin on his face. He was unable to contain his sense of relief at surviving last night’s ordeal. And Sylvanus’ sudden generosity compounded his joy.

“T-thanks. I’ll definitely earn my pay!”

“I’m sure you will! And ‘so’.” he said with some finality. “Do ya’ have some energy leftover for work today?”

Tristan checked his [Status] again.

My stamina is [4/8 SP]. I haven’t recovered from yesterday’s exertions.

Tristan steeled himself.

I have to get stronger to survive in this harsh world. I never want to feel so helpless ever again.

“I-I have plenty to spare.”

Sylvanus set Tristan to work on converting the goblin corpses into fertilizer while he recovered on his rocking chair.

Last night’s ‘catch’ was little more than blackened bone, but Tristan felt like he couldn’t let the results of the old man’s struggle go to waste, so he added them to the batch by splitting them evenly between the seven hefty sacks of goblin remains.

The gristmill was the only structure in Sylvanus’ farm that was made entirely of rocks, resembling a giant cairn. It was still much smaller than Tristan thought it would be, with room for just one horse to drive the shaft - which was a long oaken pole - in circles, to thresh the contents of a wide basin. He noticed that the grinding mechanism was a makeshift spindle with dozens of iron spokes embedded in it.

It’s just like a horrifying, human blender from an old b-movie. I guess that makes me one of the evil henchmen.

Tristan emptied the first sack into the basin, grimacing at the putrid stench that suddenly filled the roundhouse. He added the contents of a bag of crushed leaves that the old man had handed him earlier. It then took him a few moments to find a half-empty sack of dried wheat which he added to the batch by liberally sprinkling in a dozen handfuls. The basin was more than halfway full already, so he decided to begin grinding it down.

There was no horse or oxen to pull the drive shaft. The fat goblin had long since made a meal of Sylvanus’ livestock. And when he had inquired about a possible replacement, he had received an odd response.

‘What fer’? Ain’t a human more powerful than a horse?’

Tristan couldn’t imagine a world where human labor was more effective than traditional ‘beasts of burden’ and yet he felt a slither of excitement at the thought of leveling up until he was as strong as a bull.

He sighed. The work that lay before him was so grotesque, that it dulled his enthusiasm.

I don’t have time for self pity. This is the surest way I know to get stronger and pay back Huck without incurring any risk.

He spat on both his hands and pressed his weight against the drive shaft. It had creaked forward only a few centimeters before he felt his strength fail.

“T-this is impossible!”

After a brief reassessment, he decided to shovel some of the compost out of the grinder back into it’s original sack until the basin was only a quarter way full. With the quantity lessened, he dug in his feet and drove forward, his hands loosley gripping the oaken beam.

He heard the sound of bones splintering and grunted in satisfaction.

About ten minutes had past before the shaft’s resistance had completely faded. It could now be rowed forward at the slightest touch. He examined the basin. It was half-way filled with a reddish-brown gunk.

Sylvanus had lent him a large metal pan and a wooden ladle for the drying stage. As he scooped up the gunk and laid it out on the deep pan, his eyes began to water. He repeated this process until the pan was almost brimming.

Tristan placed the gunk-filled pan just outside the roundhouse.

It’s kinda like baking a cake. Hehe… a foul smelling cake that looks like a pile of shit warmed over.

After refilling the grinding basin to it’s previous level, he returned to the exercise of pushing the drive shaft. When the basin’s contents had once again curdled into gunk, he went outside to retrieve the pan.

Expecting a shit-cake, what he found instead seemed more like red ocher. It had the smell of wet earth, and could easily be mistaken for something you would find in a bag labelled ‘manure’.

S-so fast! In this world, the fermentation process has been kicked into overdrive!

He took the pan back to the roundhouse and emptied it’s contents into a spare, unused sack.

It took an hour to convert a single sack full of goblin remains into [Red Fertilizer] or as Sylvanus called it: [Sylvy’s Red Manure].

Tristan had filled four sacks by the time Sylvanus found him sprawled out in front of the gristmill.

“Taking a break?”

“S-something like that.” His body was sore to the point of numbness.

And the skin around his scabs had turned a soft pink, already well-into the process of healing.

“Those scabs will be gone in a couple days. So consider yer’self lucky.”

“Y-yeah. Let’s hope so… did you need me for something?”

“I need ya’ to head to the guild and talk to a young lady called ‘Solei’. She’s the manager these days, filling in for dat’ good fer’ nothing fool, Morgan. I want a condition added to the bounty. That the goblin bodies be wholly provided to me, preferably intact so as to make it easier to count ‘em. So, if ya’ head straight-”

“-I know where the guild is, I’ve been there already.”

“Oh. That little minx.” Sylvanus muttered.

“S-should I head out now?”

Sylvanus shrugged. “Ya’ can rest if needed, but if ya’ wanna make it back before nightfall, ya’ gotta go now.”

“I-I’m going. Right now. I just need a moment to collect myself.”

Sylvanus chuckled, and left him alone.

Tristan checked his [Status].

Nothing had changed except his health and stamina which were: [9/10 HP] and [2/8 SP] respectively.

He slowly rose, and began a gentle walk towards the Guild. The noon air was soft and crisp, revitalizing him. Feeling no need to rush, he kept an even pace that allowed him to recover from his morning labor.

There were only a few farmers that he could spot in the distance as he passed by. They were too far off the beaten trail for him to consider greeting them.

Fences occasionally demarcated splits in territory. He estimated that the average farm was well over ten acres.

All the farmers have such huge swathes of land! How has Sylvanus survived all this time with so little?

He had reached the guild house, feeling only slightly winded but quite sunburned. After checking his [Status], he calculated the time he had taken on his journey here.

Three hours. Still plenty of time before sun down. The usefulness of [Status] cannot be overemphasized.

He rapped his fingers against the door, and waited in nervous anticipation.

It was not long before Solei appeared with a sweet smile. She wore a tanned, leather corset, beneath which was a black silk blouse tapered with white frills. Her dainty feet wore heeled slippers.

I married a slice of heaven.

Tristan smacked his cheeks.

Oi! What are you thinking?!

“I-is something w-wrong?”

“Uh. I mean, nothing’s wrong. I’m just feeling a little light-headed. I had a busy morning.”

And a busy night too.

“Ah. W-well, why d-don’t you come in then?”

Tristan had explained Sylvanus’ request. Solei had responded by drawing up a poster of the new requirements. When she was done writing, only a few of the foreign words began to contort and swirl into their English counterparts.

I need to somehow level up [Auto-Translate].

“S-so… um… Huck t-told me you will be staying at Sylvanus’ from n-now on.”

“Yeah. I got a job as a farmhand. It pays twenty copper a day… are those good wages?”

She nodded briskly. “I-it’s twice the usual for laborers…”

An awkward silence ensued. Solei seemed to be working up the courage to ask him something, so he waited patiently.

“… s-so why d-don’t you make this place your home…? S-spend your nights here. With me. I-I mean in your own room. By yourself!”

I’d rather not waste half my day trekking to and fro. When I save up enough, the Guild might make a good place to crash.

“I think it’s more convenient for my work if I stay with Sylvanus. I’ll be scouting for better opportunities in the mean time. If I save enough money, maybe I’d be able to hire a magician or mage, whatever you call’em to cast a spell that will send me home…”

Solei seemed distraught.

“… but as soon as I find other work and have a steady income I’ll make this place my home. And don’t worry, by then I’ll be able to afford the rent!”

Upon hearing those words, she returned to her usual cheery self.

“You will always be welcome here!” She seemed to be thinking of a way to capitalize on the moment. “And um… would you like to v-visit Bordna with me today?”

“What? Uh… yeah, sure. Why not?”

I better make this quick. I do ‘not’ want to travel through the farm fields at night.

“I think we should leave now. I have to return to Sylvanus’ before sunset.”

“A-ah. Yes! But I need to ch-change my shoes! I’ll be right back.” She darted up the stairs.

When she returned, she was wearing black knee-high boots lined with white buckles.

She has such a flashy style! But why does she always wear a corset? Doesn’t that thing hurt?

Solei caught him staring at her figure and blushed deeply. “D-do you like what you s-see?”

“Hmm…? Did you say something Solei? You know I was wondering about you always wearing a corset. Is it really necessary?”

She had an air of disappointment.

“Y-you see… i-it’s my uniform… d-do you not l-like it?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s lovely. I was just wondering if you’d feel comfortable in that on your way to town.”

“W-well, I h-have to wear it when I go out.”

“I guess that means you’re ready. Let’s get going then.”

“Y-yes!”

Tristan was surprised to find Solei leading him on towards the outer limits of the town of Bordna, at such a brisk pace.

As they journeyed, there was the occasional moment where she would turn to speak with him, stutter something unintelligible and then lapse back into a silence.

She must have a lot on her mind.

After what felt like a slow hour of walking, despite the hurried pace, they reached the city walls. Tristan was surprised, expecting to see extensive fortifications. Instead they found slim, yet sturdy palisades, around three meters in height, curving inwards to reveal a pair of watch towers. Nested between the watch towers - which were more like wood outcroppings forming a platform from which archers could take aim at intruders - was the gate itself. Composed of a dark red wood, the portcullis was more along the lines of what he expected.

“Cursed willow tree.” Solei had supplied. “That’s what the gates are made of.”

So it seems that the townsfolk are quite receptive to the use of monster remains as crafting ingredients… so maybe it won’t be such a bad thing when Sylvanus’ special ‘manure’ is finally exposed.

“Good to know.” Tristan whispered as they approached a pair of alert guards, dressed in hauberks. They each carried a shield on their back and a long sword sheathed at the belt.

“Who goes there?” A slim, sprightly man had stepped forward. The other stood placidly, his broad shoulders relaxed.

“I-I am Solei, the-”

“I said who goes there!” he shouted, drawing his sword.

Tristan instinctively looked behind him. He couldn’t imagine himself as a threat.

The big soldier broke into laughter.

Solei was confused, her head swiveling to and fro as she switched her gaze from soldier to Tristan to soldier in rapid succession.

“What business do you have here?” the smaller soldier asked, his words tainted with anger. He was addressing Tristan exclusively. As if Solei didn’t exist. “Have you lost your mommy?”

“W-what!?”

Tristan swallowed.

I-is this a prank?

The big guard bowled over, his bellowing laughter calming their hearts.

“Ain’t that enough Pliebus? Let them through. He’s with Solei.”

Pliebus seemed satisfied. He gave a mocking bow and stood aside.

Tristan passed him gingerly. When his back was turned away, he could hear faint words of disdain.

“Damn nobles. Always traipsing about, like they own the place.”

Solei rushed to his side. “W-we have business in Bordna!”

“Aye. No doubt you do, Solei. Is this gentleman a visiting noble? Should I call for a reception?” He glanced at Tristan, eyeing his clothes with a peculiar expression. “My name is Kenan. Deputy Guard Head of Bordna. Could I have your name please?”

This one is so much more polite. I like him.

“I am called Tristan. And thank you, but a reception won’t be necessary.”

I might end up footing the bill for it!

“And your family name please.” Using [Storage], Kenan retrieved a quill and a small booklet. His big hands made those items appear minuscule. Leafing through the book, he spun through a few pages, and paused. He looked up expectantly.

“I-I don’t have a family name.”

Pliebus whistled. “Is that so? Are you denouncing your lineage?”

Tristan turned around, and faced him. “I’ve never had a ‘lineage’. So call me Tristan.”

Pliebus seemed pleased at this response. “I’ll be sure to remember that.” He said, and nodded respectfully.

When Tristan turned again to face Kenan, he was met with a beaming smile.

“Now then! We won’t be keeping ya’, so be on your way.”

Tristan soaked in his surroundings with awe.

Thatched roof cottages framed with wattle and daub appeared to be the norm. The streets were mostly unpaved, but cobbled stones lined the porches of most homes. The majority of both men and women wore cloth tunics, while some strutted about in leather jerkins. He assumed those were the more wealthy individuals. Children wore the exact same style of clothing, only in miniature.

“C’mon Tristan, we’ve got to get going.”

He sped up to join Solei who had walked a few paces ahead of him. She led the way to a paved clearing. There were shop stalls lined all around, and poster stands made of polished stone stood in the center. A few well dressed individuals were milling about, reading each posting carefully before flitting to the next one.

“This is the city square. And those are merchants… farmers and craftsman often post special deals on those boards.”

“Oh. What kind of deals?”

“Sometimes unruly weather forces an early harvest, or disease breaks out among their livestock, leaving them no choice but to sell off their healthy stock lest they also become infected… and so having no way to find interested parties, those postings serve as their primary means of communication.”

Solei noticed Tristan’s cheeky smile.

“W-why are you smiling?”

“I never thought you’d be such an awesome receptionist!”

She twirled around, hiding her blushing face.

“L-let’s go, we need to put up the post right away to attract adventurers.”

Solei had removed the old poster, and pinned the new Goblin Bounty up in its place. The merchants filed in quickly to read the new posting but dispersed just as fast when they read the details.

“How long should we wait?”

Solei smiled sheepishly. “I-it could take awhile b-before an adventurer comes around.”

They had been standing in quiet boredom when a shirtless, hulking figure approached them. He was bald with one ear half-chewed out. His body was covered in rippling muscles, obscured only by countless scars, some of them still achingly fresh.

Tristan assumed he had been in an innumerable number of fights. And won them all.

“Such lovely young ladies.” His voice was a rich baritone. “Rather than work here, why don’t ya’ meet with Madame Arnette? She runs the Seven Bells down on Chaste Lane. I can escort ya’ll there.”

Solei was too confused to respond.

“I-I don’t think that’s something we’d be interested in doing.” Tristan gulped nervously.

“Ya’ sure about that? The pay is a hundred coppers a night. We also got some fine healers in case ya’ run into trouble with our clientele…” He said, soothingly. “…they can get rowdy sometimes. But I provide protection. So there’s no need to worry.” He suddenly smiled, revealing a surprisingly full set of teeth.

“I-I don’t understand.” Solei had found her wits. “But I work for the Moribus Guild, and I’m not interested in a career change.” She turned to Tristan. “I don’t know the details, but the pay is amazing!”

Arg! You seriously haven’t caught on yet!?

“So, whad’ya say?” he eyed Tristan keenly.

“Uh. Um. You see… I-I’m actually a man.”

The bouncer blinked repeatedly. A low grumble escaped his lips. “There’s folks who like that. I ain’t keen on the half-n-half myself. But Madame says I was to offer two hundred copper if I met a fella like that. And you seems to be it.”

“Two hundred copper! Wow!” Solei was ecstatic.

I only have one ‘set’. So I couldn’t accept your offer even I wanted to.

“I-I’m not so sure… m-maybe you could g-give me some time to think about it?”

“Why Tristan? This sounds like an awesome opportunity! You’d be making way more money than I do!”

Why are yo so fixated on the money, Solei? Did you grow up poor?

“Hmm. Ya’ll can take your time. The offer still stands. If ya’ ever on Chaste Lane, ask around for Torlog.”

He smiled gently, and lumbered away.

Tristan sighed in relief, but Solei’s lips were puffed out.

“Why didn’t you take the job? He seemed like such a nice guy.”

“Because… never mind. I’ll explain later.”

An hour sped by as they scanned the shifting crowd for would-be quest takers, but none made their way to them.

Solei had grown increasingly agitated.

“Um… I s-should… T-Tristan… c-could you… um…” she stuttered into a forlorn silence.

It’s like there’s two people inside her. A guild manager, and a shy little girl. I wonder what her ultimate form will be?

“Hmm? Do you have something you need to take care of?”

“Y-yes! I need to meet the town council and run some errands. I won’t be long!”

She ran off.

“W-wait! Solei!?”

Uwah! She didn’t tell me what to do if an adventurer ‘does’ show up.

Not long thereafter, an adventurer did indeed ‘show up’.

She wore a wool vestment and breeches, while her torso was protected by a lamellar cuirass. Her straight, ash brown hair was tied back in a bun.

She strutted forward with an air of confidence, and glanced at the Moribus Guild posting, briefly, before turning to address Tristan.

Puffy cheeks. A soft chin. A slim waist… s-she’s gorgeous! Ah, well… she’s lacking in the chest department though… and her eyes are so gentle, yet they still have a mysterious aura of strength…

For a moment he lost himself in the fierce glare of her amber eyes. Realizing he was staring, Tristan swiftly averted his gaze.

“Ahem.” She made an exaggerated cough.

“Y-yes can I help you?”

“This is the seal of the Moribus Guild. Is it not?” She was pointing at the marking left by Solei’s signet ring. The small outline of a shield bearing the image of an orc with large tusks was clearly visible and glowing with magic.

“Y-yes it is.”

“You are a guild associate right? So, read it for me.”

Tristan stifled a bitter laugh, before his own mistake dawned on him. He stood bemused by his own shortsightedness.

Of course she can’t read it! Only nobles can read and write. And those whose careers demanded it. Like merchants and guild employees.

“So? Are you going to read it or what?” she had already lost her patience.

“Y-yes, of course…” Tristan leaned in close. As he studied the text, some of the words spun and twisted before his eyes, reshaping themselves into a language he could understand.

But there was no need for him to comprehend all of it.

“… it’s a bounty offering ten copper per goblin, so long as its carcass is wholly presented to the issuer, in one piece or several. An assistant will be provided to help you collect the goblin remains. As of yet, there is no set limit to the number of goblin captures you will be compensated for.”

I just made the whole thing up on the spot! But I think that about covers the details.

Her brow furrowed. “What do you need the goblin bodies for?”

“T-that information is not part of the deal.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Fair enough… I accept…”

Yes! That went a lot better than I thought it would!

“… and who will be my assistant? The person to retrieve the ‘bodies’?”

“Ah. That would be me.”

Her eyes widened. “S-someone like you… would be w-willing to do that kind of work?”

Tch. Everyone seems to think I’m the feeble son of some snooty noble. I really need to start working out, otherwise this image will stick.

“Yes. I have experience in dealing with the corpses- I mean carcasses. I also have [Level 2 - Storage].”

She nodded grimly. “That would certainly come in handy. And where do I submit the goblin catch?”

“The farmer who issued the bounty has a cottage close to the edge of the North Agva forest. It’s about a three hour walk from here. Goblins are plentiful in that area. So, it’s a convenient hunting ground. And I can guide you there.”

“I understand… my name is Kirsten. I’m an adventurer, and a member of the Moribus Guild. Rank E. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

They shook hands.

“Tristan. I’m also a member of the Moribus Guild. Rank G. I registered just this week, so please be patient with me.”

She’s two ranks higher than Solei and I… well, that’s not a good basis for comparison but she’s definitely not a newbie like me.

“I see… we should make our way to the farm before nightfall. I’ll need to make some preparations before we leave.” she held up a finger and pointed past him. “I’ve been staying at a tavern a few blocks from here. Once I’ve packed my gear, we can set out immediately.”

The moment he walked into the Tavern, Tristan instantly felt out of place. Whereas Kirsten seemed right home, elbowing her way past a bunch of gruff men gambling over a small mound of copper coins. Each time the die fell, one of them would yell happily while the others would swear in frustration.

He passed a pretty, young receptionist that gave him an eager smile at first, but gawked when she noticed Kirsten at his side.

“Wait for me at the bar.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He sat on a high stool, soaking in the smell of hot sweat and stale beer.

“You gonna order something?” A burly bartender gave him a sulky look.

“Y-yeah. Ale. If you have any.”

“'course we do.” He held out a mug, and twisted the tap on a keg that sat on the counter. A warm, frothy mix spilled forth. He slid the pint towards Tristan. “That will be five copper.”

Tristan plopped down a silver coin. “Got change?”

“Fuckin’ nobles.” he muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Yeah, hold on. I’ll get ya’ damn change.”

Tristan waited until he had received the difference before he tried sipping the ale, thinking that it might taste better when it cooled.

He was wrong.

It was light and bubbly, with a squalid taste made bitter by some herbs he couldn’t identify.

Not wanting to offend the establishment, Tristan forced himself to drink. He was halfway done with his ale and busy agonizing over the fact that good beer would be hard to find, when a fat local sat next to him.

He wore a tight shirt and suspenders.

“A-anotha’ one bartender!” The mug he had in hand wasn’t finished yet, but he downed it quickly, spilling gobs of it on the floor and the counter, while his grizzly beard soaked up the remainder.

“Oh! Who’s dis’ pwetty, yang’ thang’?”

Tristan froze, wishing he could disappear into the background.

“Naw’ I haven’t seen ya’ round dese’ parts.”

Tristan could feel a trail of spit oozing down one side of his face.

“I-I’m waiting for someone.” he said, staring directly ahead.

“And what’s dat supposed to mean? Yer’ trying to git’ rid of me eh?”

“N-no… it’s just that I’m 'with' someone. She’ll be here soon.”

“She?!” the fat drunk yelled. “What sort a gal’ are ya? Oh, but I knows’ yer’ type. Don’t ya’ work at the Seven Bells?” He slammed his fist on the counter.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.

“I got fity’ copper that says you’s and I are gonna have some fun tonight.” he laughed, his belly jiggling in excitement.

How am I going to get away from this fat bastard?

As if in answer to his prayer, a stern hand clasped the fat man’s shoulder and spun him around. His ale fell from his grasp, rolling across the floor.

Instead of lashing out, the bartender groaned, and pulled the keg and a bunch of wooden mugs off the counter. He was expecting a fight.

“A-a barbarian.” The drunk squealed.

Tristan shuddered.

The so-called ‘barbarian’ was a dark-skinned woman that stood well over two meters tall. She wore leather vambraces on her arms, and a matching pair of greaves on her legs. The leather strap that held her massive breasts in place left her midriff exposed.

She had one foot on the counter. Her leather shorts were hiked up, and rode her skin, revealing thighs as large as Tristan’s waist.

T-those breasts should be on the Richter scale!

“I-I ain’t done nothing to ya’! S-so won’t ya’ leave me be?!”

She grabbed his mug of ale, which was newly filled, and drained it without spilling a drop.

“Are you bothering my friend over there?”

“N-no. I wasn’t!” he shook his head, his thick lips wagging.

“Then won’t you be so kind, as to lend me your seat?”

In his sudden rush to leave, the drunk fell off his stool, but quickly regained his balance as he launched himself out the door.

Tristan laughed.

“I-I owe you one. M-maybe I can buy you a drink?”

I’ve got to see more of those colossal tits!

“That would be nice.”

When his eyes finally edged their way past the line of her chest, he noticed a soft smile, and a crazy, jet-black Afro that reminded him of a funky 70’s hairdo.

“They call me Serena.”

“Tristan…” he handed the bartender fifteen copper, thinking she’d be willing to have at least a few drinks with him.

“… I can’t thank you enough for stepping in.” he continued. “But I’m sorry he insulted you.”

“Hmm?” She had already drained her second beer. “He was polite enough… or did you mean the ‘barbarian’ remark?”

He felt shy about the fact that he was still cradling his first beer, so he took a few hurried sips between each sentence.

“Yeah. I have a feeling you’re used to those kind of things. But I’m sorry you had to go through that on my account.”

“Actually, that’s my [Job Class]. I’m a [Barbarian Warrior]. I was lucky enough to be born with it. It’s a feature among people from my tribe.”

“So you’re not from Bordna?”

That’s pretty damn obvious.

“Haha. No, of course not. I’m a long way from home…”

Tristan had tried to chug his second beer, but gave up halfway when he started choking. Serena pretended not to notice.

She’s so nice.

“So what’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?”

That sounded suspiciously like a cheesy pickup line!

“Y-yeah, you know it’s funny but a lot of people seem to think I’m a woman when they first meet me.”

“Y-you’re not?”

I have no intention of being in a gender-bending story.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a guy!”

Some of her confidence seemed to melt away.

“S-so, you’re a noble right? You c-certainly carry yourself that way.”

She was slowly sipping her third pint of ale, to match his pace.

“Ah? Not really. But thanks… I’m not sure how to explain it, but you could say I was brought up in a household of nobility…”

A modern middle class household in a developed nation has living standards so high, they could put medieval royalty to shame.

“I see… at first I thought you were a lady-in-waiting, and then I thought you were the son of a rich merchant… but it seems I was wrong on both counts.” she paused, measuring her words. “… would it be too much to ask for your family name?”

“No can do!”

It seems I’m a little tipsy. I’m going to cradle this beer until Kirsten returns.

“I-I understand.” She failed to mask her disappointment. “Trust takes time.”

It really has nothing to do with trust. But whatever, I’ll roll with it.

“Who I once was… is something I’m trying to forget. I want to let go of the past, and forge a new path forward.”

“How poetic.” she teased.

“Ooh! I have a way with words you know. Maybe I should become a [Bard].”

“I’ll toast to that!”

They bumped their mugs together and laughed.

“Ahem.”

Tristan and Serena kept laughing, lost in merriment.

“Ahem!”

Serena shot Kirsten an angry glare.

“Who’s this?”

“Oh. That’s Kirsten. She’s an adventurer. She’s got way more experience than me you know. She’s Rank E. I’m Rank G by the way. Moribus Guild and all that- say what rank did you say you were?”

“I don’t have a rank. I’m not an adventurer.”

“Really?! You seemed to be the type. You look hella’ strong!”

“Ah, thanks! I’m a bounty hunter actually.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like an adventurer, but not affiliated with a guild. We do the same work, but get little credit for it.”

“Sounds rough.”

“It is. But the pay is good-”

“-Ahem.” Kirsten fake-coughed into her hand. “Tristan, we should get going.”

“W-wait you two are together?” Serena seemed flustered.

“Actually-” Tristan began.

“-We are! And we’re in a hurry. So say goodbye to your friend.”

“I-I’ll see you around Serena.”

How do adventurers keep in touch? Do we exchange guild cards?

Tristan was still waving his goodbye to Serena when Kirsten dragged him out the door, onto the busy streets.