Ardyn stood at the polished wooden counter of the guild reception, feeling oddly exposed under the lingering, curious gazes of the other adventurers. Before him, Katherine carefully arranged a small pile of gleaming silver coins. They caught the lantern light, shining with a pure, metallic brightness he'd only seen in much smaller amounts.
"This is for the pelts you brought in," she said, her voice softening from its earlier professional tone into one that held a genuine note of apology. "And… for the trouble earlier." She pushed the small stack toward him.
Ardyn stared blankly at the wealth before him. He recognized them as Silver Marks, coins he'd seen change hands for significant purchases, but he'd never held more than one or two at a time. He was utterly unsure what to do with so many.
Seeing his confusion, Katherine patiently explained the breakdown. "The three E-rank wolf pelts are worth forty Silver Marks," she began, separating two smaller stacks with a deft finger. "The rare D-rank pelt, with that thick winter fur, is worth another twenty." She nudged a third pile forward. "And this," she said, pointing to a final, separate stack of ten coins, "is a small compensation from the guild itself for the… oversight… and the harassment you endured on our premises."
Ardyn listened, his head tilting slightly as he tried to process the numbers. Seventy Silver Marks. It was a fortune. His mind, still grappling with the basic economy of this world, tried and failed to picture what such a sum could buy. Food for a season? New tools for everyone? The possibilities were as overwhelming as the coins were shiny. He just looked from the money to Katherine, completely at a loss.
He carefully gathered the coins into his palms, the cool, heavy weight of them both foreign and solid. He flipped one Silver Mark over, studying the unfamiliar stamp—a tower encircled by stars. His mind, still slowly mapping the value of things in this new world, tried to calculate. A loaf of bread cost a few copper pennies. A hearty stew at a tavern might be an Iron Bit or two. A new wool cloak, perhaps a handful of Silver Marks… The numbers spiraled. Seventy Silver Marks wasn't just money; it was security. It was more than he could ever hope to spend on his own.
Without a second thought, his reasoning simple and direct, Ardyn turned and extended the entire pile of gleaming silver to Seres. The action was so natural, so devoid of hesitation, that it drew another round of soft, surprised murmurs from the watching adventurers.
"Here…" he said, his voice quiet but clear in the hushed hall. "You hold it." He didn't see it as a grand gesture or a transfer of wealth. He saw practicality. She understood this world. She managed their resources. It only made sense.
Seres's eyes widened slightly, her usually stoic expression softening with a mixture of shock and something profoundly tender. She accepted the coins, her fingers brushing against his. She understood the immense trust and the sheer, uncomprehending innocence in the act. He had no idea what he had just given her. To him, it was just shiny metal. To her, it was a future—months of security, medicine for the children, sturdy shoes before winter.
She tucked the fortune safely into the inner pouch of her herb satchel, her movements efficient and calm. She let him believe it was just ordinary payment, her heart softening at his unthinking generosity. "I will keep it safe," she murmured, a promise meant for far more than just the coins.
Before Ardyn and Seres could turn to leave the guild, Katherine leaned slightly over the counter, her expression shifting into one of genuine curiosity and newfound respect. "You know," she said, her voice lower now, meant for their ears alone, "with the way you handled yourself today—against Zeren, against the Guild Master's pressure—you could become an adventurer. Truly."
She gestured around the bustling hall. "The benefits are many. You wouldn't need to pay the city gate tax anymore. You could take on official missions with guaranteed rewards, gain access to the guild's armory for better equipment, and receive proper compensation for the dangerous work you clearly aren't afraid of." She paused, her gaze flicking meaningfully toward Seres before returning to Ardyn. "If you were to join through our branch, we'd start you off as an E-rank. Most new recruits begin at G and have to claw their way up, but you've… well, you've clearly already earned it."
Ardyn listened, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to parse the rapid flow of unfamiliar terms—armories, ranks, missions. The offer hung in the air, vast and complicated. After a long moment of silence, he tilted his head, and in his broken, hesitant version of their tongue, he muttered a single, non-committal word: "Maybe." It was neither a yes nor a no, but a door left cautiously ajar.
As they turned to leave the guild hall, a palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. Adventurers deep in conversation paused to watch them pass. Townsfolk who had come to post notices or seek help from the guild glanced curiously at the duo, their whispers forming a soft, following current. The events with Zeren had been too public, too shocking to be forgotten quickly. A few of the harder-looking adventurers had briefly, instinctively considered the potential of easy coin from someone who seemed like an unknown, but the memory of Ardyn's cold eyes, the flash of the dagger, and the unshakable killing intent that had answered the Guild Master's made them quickly reconsider. The risk far, far outweighed any potential reward.
The reputation, born in a single explosive confrontation, was already taking root. Even the more audacious and trouble-prone members of the guild gave them a wider berth, subtly backing away to create a clear path to the door. The boy's name was unknown, but his actions were not. That was enough of a warning. Seres noticed the cautious, measuring glances thrown their way and simply allowed a small, knowing smile to touch her lips. She guided Ardyn forward with a light hand on his elbow, while he himself remained completely oblivious to the silent respect—and healthy fear—he now commanded. His focus was elsewhere.
Once outside in the bright sunlight, the heavy sack of pelts finally gone, Ardyn kept staring at the few coins Seres had let him keep, turning them over and over in his palm. The silver felt cool and surprisingly heavy. "This… is a lot," he murmured, more to himself than to her, his tone one of pure, uncomplicated astonishment. He was comparing it to the copper pennies and iron bits he'd grown used to, and the difference was staggering.
Seres chuckled softly beside him, the sound warm and genuine. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "You earned every bit of it. Don't worry, I'll keep the rest safe for you." She didn't elaborate on just how much 'the rest' was, knowing the true sum would likely overwhelm him further.
He nodded, a quiet, simple sense of pride swelling in his chest. He hadn't sought a fight or glory, but he had protected what was his, and it had resulted in this strange, shiny wealth. His mind was still full of a naive wonder, not at the confrontation or the fear he'd inspired, but at the tangible result of his actions—a handful of coins that felt like a fortune.
Katherine-The Guild Receptionist
I was returning from the Guild Master's office, my mind still reeling from the contents of the letter I'd just delivered. Seres had asked me to verify it quietly, and the proof was irrefutable. Finel's account was clear: the boy, Ardyn, had indeed faced the wolf pack alone. The relief of having the matter officially settled was immediately overshadowed by a spike of anxiety. Something about that boy… I had a feeling things around him were never simple.
As I neared the entrance to the main hall, an oppressive, suffocating aura slammed into my chest, so tangible it felt like walking into a wall of ice. What in the world…? My steps faltered. It was a clash of killing intent—two immense, opposing forces grinding against each other in the air. The pressure was immense, making my knees feel weak and my breath catch in my throat. This wasn't a simple argument; this was something primal, something dangerous. My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I moved quickly toward the source, my professional composure fraying at the edges as I tried to make sense of the chaotic, terrifying energy flooding the guild hall.
The sight that greeted me when I stepped through the archway stopped me dead mid-step. Two figures were at the center of it all. One was Seres, her posture calm but her eyes intensely alert, a silent witness to the storm. The other was the boy, Ardyn. He was just a teenager, lanky and still bearing the bandages from his injuries, but he stood radiating a palpable, chilling danger that made the air around him seem to warp. He was locked in a silent battle of wills with none other than Guild Master Borin himself.
The entire guild hall seemed to have shrunk around them, pressed inward by the force of their clashing auras. Every low-rank adventurer in the vicinity was frozen, holding their breath, caught between awe and terror. My eyes widened, a mix of sheer fear and disbelief rooting me to the spot. Can a fifteen-year-old boy truly possess killing intent this sharp? This… ancient? The thought was insane. He should still be wet behind the ears, dreaming of his first goblin hunt, not standing toe-to-toe with a legend like Borin and answering his pressure with his own. It was impossible. And yet, I was watching it happen.
Who is this boy? My mind raced, trying to reconcile the youthful face with the terrifyingly sharp aura rolling off him. It was raw, yes, but it carried a precision and control that seasoned adventurers spent decades honing. And the intensity—it wasn't just power; it was something else, something cold and deeply ingrained, like the edge of a well-worn blade. I'd felt the killing intent of A-ranks before, even Borin's, but this was different. The Guild Master's presence was mighty, authoritative—almost mundane in its familiarity compared to the quiet, lethal force emanating from this… this child. A feeling of reverence, cold and startling, trickled down my spine. This was no ordinary youth.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the reception desk, the polished wood a familiar anchor in the surreal scene. Ardyn stood positioned perfectly between the hulking Zeren and a protective Seres, his posture not aggressive, but impossibly calm and measured. Even as the D-rank adventurer blustered and tried to bully them, Ardyn's controlled threat radiated out like an invisible barrier, a silent, unmistakable warning. How is he so precise? I wondered, the receptionist in me clinically noting details even through the fear. And so utterly fearless? He showed no sign of the panic or posturing I saw in every green recruit. My own pulse had quickened, thrumming in my wrists and throat, a visceral reaction to the danger he contained so effortlessly.