'Honored Spire Guild…?'
Immediately, the words refreshed Darien's mind, and he remembered the fire mage.
The dying mage had passed him a sword, a card, and a note, and as a last request; he was to meet the Honored Spire Guild and tell them about his death.
Darien had totally sloughed off the quest because he couldn't even find any guilds to begin with, talkless of searching for this particular one.
'Hmm... I wonder if this man is the leader of the guild?'
While the stranger Warrior walked to the nearby stall, Darien retrieved the note and card that Bennin had handed him.
"Any problem?"
"I met a mage who saved me from slavers, then gave me a dying wish to find your guild and hand over these. I never thought I'd actually stumble into anyone from the guild."
Like a fox, Darien made sure he omitted the part where Bennin had given him the Rare weapon.
For him, that didn't matter because the mage had bestowed it to him as a token of covenant, ensuring that he delivered the note to the guild.
Perhaps, the content of the note was even more valuable than the sword.
Naturally, this man would likely assume that the weapon must've been destroyed in battle or taken by someone else already, at the defenselessness of Bennin's corpse.
There was no way a little lad like this would possess the magical longsword, a property of the Honored Spire. Where would he even keep it? Could he even wield it?
The Warrior's brows lifted slightly as he glanced at the folded note, then at Darien. There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he took it, and while unfolding it, he casually remarked something that froze Darien's bloodflow.
"So… you entered the Finelands illegally?"
Darien scratched the back of his head and grinned embarrassedly. He had totally forgotten that smuggling oneself into the province was a punishable offense.
Thankfully, the man didn't press further.
'I wonder what's written in the note.'
Darien thought as he stared at the Warrior read. He hadn't gotten the chance to read the note or cards because he was illiterate.
But the man's face remained still, a calm expression, likely because he had seen far too much before.
After a pause, he neatly folded the note and tucked it into a slit above his vambrace before asking Darien how Bennin died.
Darien replied accurately.
"Monster Wolf."
The trader greeted happily once again as the man was done with his purchase. The man nodded and placed the supplies into his satchel, then turned back to Darien.
"Time to head for the Adventurer's Association."
With happiness, Darien followed.
The both of them left the street where Red Boar was still in havoc, and then trekked to the northern end of the town.
Their brief walk came to an end at a small precinct where carriage transportation was the real deal. As they stepped into one, Darien couldn't help but enjoy the way the Warrior commanded a lot of turning heads.
"What should I call you?"
"Call me Harwin. That's my name."
It was a quiet ride. The civilization thinned out the farther the carriage rolled, creating more space and more open travelling fields.
Eventually, they arrived at the Adventurer's Association.
The scene was a gathering of several buildings of varying heights, but they were identical in appearance. Atop their roofs were waving banners, and on the ground were Warriors of all kinds pacing around.
The Adventurer's Association was an independent body recognized across Valurion. They had only three bases, each for the three dukedoms of the Finelands.
Unlike Guilds, they were much larger and operated without stiff decorum or noble oversight. All three bases offered a legal way for the common folk and unaffiliated Warriors to gain entry into the Primordial Forest.
But first, they'd have to pass the entry tests, and they must've paid for regular membership.
And these were the two hurdles that always turned many away.
Those who couldn't afford the membership upfront would have it deducted from whatever loot they returned with, and this clause was disliked by the majority.
A lot of dreamers really had the hope of being Rogue Knights but often gave up at this doorstep that required a lot.
No one wanted to bleed for uncertain loot rewards.
Those who persisted and became successful were these Rogue Knights, free blades who chose to chase fortune in the wild and live carefree for the rest of their lives.
Darien followed Harwin into one of the buildings to register himself.
At first, the receptionist assumed it was Harwin who had come to enroll as an adventurer. But when the man shook his head and gestured toward the pale child beside him, the receptionist inhaled with disbelief, a brow raised.
"I'm sorry, but we don't entertain children for—"
The receptionist tried to refuse Darien's registration because of his age, but the Warrior interrupted with that kind of backhanded politeness.
"That's not a smart remark. Association law states that anyone of minimum age and matching height can register, as long as they pass the capability test and pay the proper fees. Or did I miss a change in the rules?"
The receptionist pursed her lips, saying nothing. Harwin then turned to Darien, offering his gloved hand with a faint smile.
"I'll be taking my leave. Hope you enroll well. If you don't have the gold, they'll collect it from your future loot, so be sharp."
Darien grasped the hand with both of his, grinning.
"Thank you very much. I will."
After his avid offer of gratitude, Darien watched Harwin stride away. He was happy the man had already invited him to Honored Spire. All he had to do was just perform well and level up.
He took a deep breath and turned back toward the desk to see the receptionist's steel face.
The receptionist didn't like him already, but Darien knew he would sleep with or without her liking.
She still carried out the registration, which turned out more lenient than he expected, a testament to the loose operations of the Adventurer's Association.
The receptionist only asked for his name—or nickname, if he preferred—and didn't even question its authenticity.
But when it came to physical details, things were a bit strict.
Every visible trait was carefully noted down, and his Cursed appearance was written as "severe albinism" by the woman.
Darien also had to correct her when she marked him as female. She made the adjustments without an apology.
Once the details were recorded, she reached under the counter and handed him a folded slip with a red seal pressed into it.
"That's your holdmark. Give it to the Commander tomorrow morning. He's the one that conducts entrance tests. He's not available now, but will be by first light. That's when your test is. Be ready… if you're even serious about this."
The tone of the receptionist made it clear how doubtful she was of his future as an Adventurer, but Darien didn't reciprocate hostility.
He took the holdmark respectfully with both hands and replied to her calmly.
"Thank you."
The receptionist stared as the white brat turned and left, unaffected by her disapproval.
'So, tomorrow's the test, and I'd be free to venture into the Primordial Forest. I wonder what tests it might be. No doubt, it would have to do with fighting something…'
Darien future-paced his thoughts on what the next day would hold.
He entered a carriage back to town, and while in the ride, he thought about what skill he might particularly need in order to pass the test.
He had 2400 skill points with him untouched. And without any Primordial Energy, he could only make Physical, Arcane, or Special skills like
Knowing what the test would be beforehand would make things easier.
His mind ran with possibilities as he returned home. By the time he stepped into the house, the sun had dipped low, and the interior was lit by warm lanterns.
Mirielle and Madame Faewyn were worried, but were glad to see him return safe and sound.
Darien had an early dinner, also avoiding Mirielle's gaze, who heavily suspected him of the murder of the Ash Rats.
The scandal had reached every nook and cranny in Lanthold—the terrorists killed by a terrorist.
To clear away her suspicions, Darien only narrated to her his registration story and how he could become an Adventurer.
And later that day, after long minutes of mental scouring, inner silence, and meditation, he believed he had finally clicked the idea for a skill to pass the unknown test.