The sun was just beginning to rise over the worn stone buildings of Darnwich City when Zayne stepped onto the main road, the towering silhouette of the Adventurer's Guild Hall standing like a watchtower in the distance. It was larger than he expected as its two stories tall, built of dark wood and gray stone, with a faded bronze sigil of a sword and scroll nailed to the front.
Zayne took a deep breath. This was it and took the first step. If he could earn coin, grow stronger, and make a name for himself, he could change everything. For Elara and for Liora.
He made his way to the doors, just as they swung open. Out stepped a girl no older than him with silver-white hair cascading down her back, eyes like a winter storm. She wore a sleek black and red battle jacket trimmed in leather, with twin daggers strapped to her hips and the calm confidence of someone who didn't flinch at a fight.
Zayne moved to step aside, but she paused.
"You here to register?" she asked, voice smooth and measured.
"Uh yeah," Zayne replied, blinking. "First time."
"Same, Thought I'd beat the morning rush." She offered her hand. "Selene Graves."
Zayne shook it. "Zayne Cain."
They walked in together.
The main hall was lined with quest boards, benches, and long wooden counters where adventurers of all shapes and gear milled about with some loud and brawling, others quiet and cold. A clerk with thick glasses and a quill behind one ear stood at the front desk, eyeing them both.
"New applicants?" he asked, glancing between the two.
"Yes," Selene answered first, producing a folded parchment. "Selene Graves. Magic Swordswoman class."
The clerk nodded. "Impressive. We'll start you off at C Rank as that's standard for those with high combat aptitude."
Zayne stepped forward. "Zayne Cain… Assassin class."
The clerk didn't even blink. "F Rank."
Zayne's brow twitched. "Wait, what?"
"Assassin class registrants are automatically placed in F Rank and that's standard procedure."
"Why?" Zayne asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Too many incidents. Assassins work solo, cause collateral damage, and attract the wrong kind of attention. You're lucky we register you at all."
Selene shot him a sideways glance. "Bit harsh."
The clerk shrugged. "Guild policy."
Zayne bit back his frustration. He accepted the leather tag with F stamped in iron and turned to leave, jaw tight. Selene followed a step behind.
"Ignore him," she said. "Ranks don't matter if you can prove your strength. Just take jobs, build your rep."
"Easy for you to say," Zayne muttered. "You didn't just get told you're a walking red flag."
Selene smirked. "True but I've seen worse start lower and climb higher."
She waved as she headed toward the quest board. "Don't die."
Zayne turned to leave but was stopped by a man stepping out of the shadowed corner near the guild's staircase.
He wore dark violet noble garb, a silver pin on his chest shaped like a coiled serpent. Slicked-back black hair, pale eyes like polished quartz, and a sickeningly pleasant smile.
"You're Zayne Cain, yes?" the man asked, voice smooth as oil. "A new assassin, I hear."
Zayne frowned. "Who's asking?"
"Lord Velan Drosin," the man said with a slight bow. "I represent certain interests… and I'm in need of someone discreet."
Zayne folded his arms. "I'm not taking any shady requests off the books."
"Oh, but it will be official. You'll be paid, tagged, and even promoted if successful. All I need is a yes." He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "The target is a noble and one who has caused my House… considerable trouble."
Zayne blinked. "You want me to assassinate a noble?"
"Yes. His name is Soren Von Virel. A parasite as he hoards land, exploits the poor, and yet the Guild refuses to act. Kill him, and I'll pay you 1 million gald. All upfront once the job is done."
Zayne's mind reeled. One million gald, that was more than enough to buy a house and enough to keep Elara and Liora fed for years, maybe more.
"Why not send your own men?" he asked cautiously.
Velan smiled again. "Because they'd be traced. You, on the other hand, are a nobody. A freshly tagged F Rank Assassin. No one would suspect you."
Zayne felt the bile rise in his throat. It was a trap. It had to be.
And yet… part of him burned with fury. He thought of the clerk sneering at him. Of the villagers laughing behind their backs. Of his mother, scraping by on nothing. Of his father, lounging in some silk-draped manor while they starved.
The world wanted to keep him low but what if he didn't play by their rules?
He stared Velan dead in the eye. "Where do I find him?