Part I: The guild
Faelan returned to the inn on Bergsby Street as dusk began to bleed purple and orange into the sky.
The weight of the day—the awkward reunion, the shared grief, the rekindled warmth with Alistair and Helena—had settled upon him.
He was about to ascend the stairs to his quiet room when the young, gentle-faced receptionist shot up from his stool.
"Sir! The young lady, Ingrid… she's not here!" he said, a touch of panic in his voice. "She left a message. She asked me to tell you to meet her at the Adventurer's Guild. She left for the refugee camps a few hours ago, but said she'd be at the Guild by dusk."
Faelan paused, one foot on the stairs. He felt a flicker of annoyance, quickly replaced by a grudging respect. The girl was a storm, unable to be still, driven by the same restless demons that now plagued him. He came back down the few steps he had climbed.
"I see," he said, his voice calm. "Thank you for the message." He turned and walked back out into the evening, his own plans simply accelerated.
The walk to the Half-Wit's District was a descent into the city's vibrant, chaotic heart.
It was the brightest part of Oakhaven, a district that roared with life even as it reeked of cheap perfume, spilled ale, and the sizzling fat of roasting meats.
This was the city's engine room, a carnival of vice and opportunity powered by the singular, massive institution at its center: the Guild.
Taverns and pubs spilled raucous laughter and fighting men onto the streets.
The windows of brothels glowed with seductive red light.
Gambling houses echoed with shouts of victory and groans of loss.
Faelan navigated the throng with the practiced ease of a man who had once called such places home. This was his past life, a world he had traded for the rigid discipline of the Imperial Army. Now, he stood at a crossroads, returning to an old path for a new, terrible reason.
Ahead, the Adventurer's Guild rose from the chaos, a massive multi-story building of stone and dark timber. A set of wide stone stairs led to a set of massive oak doors, and above them, a great carved sign bore the Guild's name.
Faelan paused at the bottom of the stairs, and for a moment, an unseen tsunami of nostalgia rushed over him.
The sounds of the street faded, replaced by echoes of a younger man's laughter. He could almost see them at one of the Guild's outdoor tables: Alistair, then just a nobleman's flighty son with a talent for illusion; a stoic Dwarven shieldmaiden named Brina; a grizzled Halfling tracker and other members. His first party. His first family. A lifetime ago.
The vision faded, leaving only the cold reality of the present. He was no longer that boy. He was a man with a ghost to hunt. With a heavy heart, he climbed the stairs and pushed the great doors open.
Part II: The Rabbit's Welcome
The main hall was a cavern of noise and energy, filled with adventurers of every race and rank, boasting of their deeds over flagons of ale. Faelan ignored it all, his eyes set on the registry office to the right.
He made a beeline for the long counter, weaving through the crowded tables.
Behind the counter, Faelan was greeted by a young Beastfolk woman with long, drooping rabbit ears that framed a face of disarming cheerfulness. Her cheeks were soft and full, complementing a bright, professional smile. Her form was ample, her bust swelling prominently against the tight lacing of the white corseted uniform, giving her an air of both cheerful authority and earthy warmth. Her nametag read 'Lilia'.
"Welcome to the Oakhaven Adventurer's Guild!" she chirped, her voice bright and cheerful. "A new face or a returning friend?"
Faelan reached into his coat and produced a thin, metallic plate—his old adventurer's ID, tarnished with age but immaculately kept. He slid it across the polished counter.
"A returning friend," he said, his voice quiet, almost lost in the din of the hall. "Though it's been a long time."
Lilia's smile widened as she picked up the plate. Her droopy ears twitched as she read the inscription. "Let's see… Faelan… B-Plus rank! Impressive!"
Her eyes scanned the issue date. "Wow. It's been… over a decade since your license went dormant. According to Guild policy, we'll need to reactivate you."
She looked him up and down, her gaze professional. "Your rank stands, of course. Once a B-Plus, always a B-Plus, unless you get yourself demoted for breaking Guild code. The re-registration fee is ten coppers."
Faelan pushed the coins across the counter.
He was thirty-five now. He had left home at fourteen, spent ten years in this life, rising through the ranks from a frightened F-class nobody to a respected B-Plus warrior. Then, a decade in the army, chasing a different kind of glory. And now, he was back where he started.
Lilia stamped his old plate with a new, glowing rune. "There you are, sir," she said, sliding it back to him. The rune pulsed with a soft, white light before fading. "Your license is active. Welcome back to the Guild, Adventurer Faelan."
He picked up the plate. It felt heavier than he remembered. He was no longer Captain Faelan of the Imperial Army. He was no longer just a grieving son. He was an adventurer once more. The hunt could now truly begin.