Ryn is a wandering swordsman who left his rural village half a year ago, chasing the dream of becoming an adventurer. His swordsmanship is self-taught — rough, practical, and full of improvisation. He's cheerful but has a habit of talking to himself when thinking. Though young, his travel-worn cloak and chipped sword hint at the hardships he's already faced.
Ryn woke up in a small inn room, sunlight slipping through the half-open window. After a quick wash and a simple breakfast, he paid the receptionist with the last few silver coins he had left.
As he stepped out into the bustling streets, he muttered,
"If I don't earn something soon, I'll be drinking air for dinner."
He decided to join the Adventurer's Guild — the most reliable way to earn gold quickly.
The Adventurer's Guild of Veyra City wasn't a building.
It was a kingdom within walls, a fortress carved from stone, steel, and dreams.
When Ryn Calder stepped through its enormous rune-etched gates, the sheer scale of it made him stop dead in his tracks.
The ceiling soared high above, lost in golden light. Dozens of massive pillars ran along the central hall — each one carved with glowing arrays that pulsed like veins of mana through living stone.
The air itself hummed with enchantments.
He could feel the mana flow beneath the marble floor, weaving from one array to another — powering wards, communication circuits, and protective seals. The faint vibration under his boots reminded him that every inch of this place was alive with magic.
Two Guardian Constructs flanked the entrance, towering golems of black obsidian and silversteel. Their crimson eyes followed every movement, silent yet intimidating.
Ryn caught his reflection in their polished armor and swallowed hard.
"Are they… watching me?" he whispered.
A gruff adventurer passing by chuckled.
"Don't worry, rookie. They only wake up if you try something stupid. Like drawing your sword in here."
Ryn immediately gripped his sword hilt — then quickly let go.
To his right, the scent of roasted meat and ale drifted from the dining hall — a massive open chamber buzzing with laughter and noise.
Rows of heavy oak tables stretched from wall to wall, filled with adventurers eating, shouting, or comparing scars.
Some boasted of slaying wyverns, others arm-wrestled over bets. A bard strummed a lute in one corner, singing tales of heroes and broken hearts.
Overhead, small floating rune-lamps cast warm light, flickering gently like enchanted fireflies.
"So this is where adventurers feast…" Ryn murmured, eyes wide. "It smells better than the inn I stayed in."
Through a side archway, Ryn glimpsed the training arena — a wide, circular courtyard where the sound of clashing blades filled the air.
Swordsmen, archers, and mages all trained under shimmering wards that absorbed the force of every blow.
A network of combat arrays was inscribed into the floor, glowing faintly with blue light, resetting targets and repairing practice dummies automatically.
Each swing of a sword carried sparks of mana; each chant of a spell crackled through the air.
"They even train with enchanted barriers," Ryn said to himself. "Back home, we just hit wooden poles until we got tired…"
Further down the hall was the Guild Inn, a quieter area where adventurers rested between missions.
Lanterns lined the hallway, each glowing with steady light from elemental crystals.
A notice board beside the counter listed available rooms, meal plans, and guild discounts.
"One night, secure locks, warm meals — five silver."
Ryn grimaced. That was more than he had left.
On the left stretched a casual lounge, where adventurers lounged in deep chairs or leaned over low tables, chatting in groups.
Some traded quest rumors and bounties, others bragged about dungeon loot or flirted over mugs of steaming coffee.
A few scholars sat in the corner surrounded by scrolls and monster diagrams, debating the anatomy of a wyvern.
"You call that a wingbone? It's a claw joint, you idiot!"
"You've never even fought a wyvern!"
Ryn grinned faintly. The place was chaos — but alive.
He tried to find the reception desk, but the guild hall was a maze of stairs, corridors, and chambers that looked far too similar.
Every time he thought he was close, he found himself in another section entirely — the alchemy hall, the mission board wing, even a restricted area once (he quickly backtracked).
Half an hour later, he was walking in circles, muttering to himself.
"Where… where is the receptionist? Is this place this big or am I cursed to wander forever?"
A kind adventurer finally noticed his helpless expression and laughed.
"You're new, right? Reception's that way — follow the red banners. Try not to trip over your own feet, rookie."
Ryn grinned sheepishly.
"Thanks, bro."
"No problem, bro," the man said, clapping him on the shoulder before walking off.
After weaving through another corridor, Ryn finally found it — a wide counter backed by filing shelves and glowing crystals. Dozens of clerks worked behind it, sorting quest slips and managing adventurers.
But one person stood out immediately.
Among the rows of busy staff sat a beautiful, mature woman — her presence calm yet commanding.
Her long chestnut hair was tied in a neat bun, with a few loose strands softening her face. Her amber eyes, sharp and intelligent, met his with a faint, knowing smile.
A nameplate gleamed on her desk:
Elara Vienne — Senior Receptionist.
"Next," she said softly, her voice smooth and warm.
"You've been waiting for quite some time, haven't you?"
Ryn froze for a moment, realizing she was speaking to him.
"Y-Yes, ma'am."
She chuckled lightly.
"Relax, dear. I don't bite. Here, fill this out — name, age, and occupation."
Ryn quickly scribbled:
Ryn Calder, 19, Swordsman.
Elara glanced over the parchment, her eyes flicking briefly to his worn sword and travel cloak.
"A swordsman from the countryside. Brave choice."
She smiled faintly, handing him a small guild token.
"We'll investigate your background. If there are no issues, your name will appear on the notice board outside in a week. Then you may claim your badge and start taking quests."
Ryn blinked.
"A week? That long?"
"Patience, Ryn," she said, her tone teasing. "The world won't end in seven days. Find work, eat well, and don't get into trouble."
He nodded, a bit embarrassed.
"Understood, Miss Elara."
She gave him a gentle smile.
"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. Try not to get lost next time."
Ryn laughed awkwardly as he turned to leave, his heart still pounding.
"Too late for that…" he muttered.
And with that, he stepped out — a swordsman of humble beginnings, standing at the threshold of a world larger and brighter than anything he had ever imagined.
Ryn stepped out of the Adventurer's Guild, blinking against the sunlight.
The hall's echoing grandeur faded behind him, replaced by the living hum of Veyra City — vendors shouting, carriages rumbling, and the endless chatter of townsfolk.
Then he noticed it — a large crowd gathered a little ways ahead, forming a half-circle around something tall and wide. Curious, he made his way closer.
Dozens of people — merchants, travelers, apprentices, and adventurers — were standing shoulder to shoulder, talking animatedly. Some were pointing, others scribbling notes, and a few were already bargaining over goods or services.
Ryn frowned.
"What's all this about?"
He tapped the shoulder of a young man beside him — short brown hair, friendly smile, carrying a worn leather satchel.
"Hey bro, what's going on here?"
The man looked at him, slightly surprised.
"What, you're new in town?"
"Uh, yeah. Just registered at the guild."
The man grinned.
"Alright, that explains it. See that giant board over there?"
Ryn followed his gaze — a massive wooden notice board mounted on iron pillars. It stretched nearly the width of a city gate, layered with papers, flyers, wax seals, and stamped guild symbols.
"That's the Veyra Notice Board," the man explained. "The guild uses it to announce all sorts of things — member approvals, emergency missions, city-wide events. If your name shows up there after registration, congrats, you're officially qualified."
Ryn nodded slowly, taking it all in.
The board wasn't just for adventurers — it was alive with the pulse of the city itself.
"So it's not just guild stuff?" Ryn asked.
The man laughed.
"Oh, not even close! Merchants rent space on it to advertise their goods — enchanted tools, monster parts, rare spices, even potion recipes. Business owners post job offers for guards, helpers, and couriers. It's like… the whole city's marketplace in one place."
Ryn tilted his head.
"And they just… post anything they want?"
"Not for free," the man said with a shrug. "You gotta pay a monthly or yearly fee to the guild. Keeps the board organized — and makes sure nobody pastes garbage on it."
Ryn chuckled.
"Figures. Even news costs money in a big city."
The young man nodded and looked back at the board.
"Anyway, I'm actually here to find work myself. Name's Taren. You?"
"Ryn Calder," he said, shaking his hand.
"Nice to meet you, bro. Since we're both broke and jobless, how about we look for something together?"
"Sure thing," Ryn said with a grin. "Let's go find something before my stomach starts complaining again."
The two began scanning the board side by side, weaving between others doing the same. Flyers fluttered in the breeze — some offering humble jobs, others promising gold for danger most sane people would avoid.
One paper read:
"Help wanted — bakery assistant. No experience needed. Must be early riser. Free meals included."
Ryn's eyes brightened.
"Hey, Taren, this one looks perfect for me!"
"A bakery? Pfft, better than starving. Go for it, bro."
Ryn tore the slip carefully from the board, feeling a small spark of hope.
He might not have been an adventurer yet, but at least now, he had a place to start.
Taren leaned closer, glancing at the paper Ryn had just pulled from the notice board.
"A bakery job, huh? That's a good choice, bro — free food, easy work."
Ryn chuckled.
"Yeah, I figured if I'm not fighting monsters yet, at least I can fight hunger."
Taren smirked.
"Smart thinking. But where are you gonna stay? Don't tell me you're sleeping on the streets."
Ryn rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Uh… I might have been considering it."
Taren groaned and rolled his eyes.
"You're hopeless, man. Inns around here cost at least ten silver a night — and that's for a room smaller than a coffin."
"Ten silver?!" Ryn blurted. "That's robbery!"
"Welcome to Veyra City, where everything's expensive and dreams are taxed," Taren said dryly.
Then, after a moment, his eyes lit up.
"Wait, look there — the Golden Hearth Inn is hiring. Two waiters needed, free meals and free stay. It's like the gods took pity on us!"
Ryn looked at the paper, his mood brightening.
"You're right, bro! That's perfect for both of us. Let's go check it out!"
"Exactly. Let's hurry before someone else grabs the job."
And so, the two of them set off through the busy streets of Veyra.
The streets bustled with life.
Merchants shouted over one another, selling everything from dried herbs to enchanted lanterns. Kids darted through crowds with paper kites, and old women argued about the price of flour.
A pair of armored adventurers strode past, laughing loudly, the scent of ale following them.
Taren and Ryn walked side by side, both still a little out of place but smiling like they'd known each other for years.
"So, bro," Ryn began, "you said you're a healer, right? That's pretty rare."
Taren nodded proudly.
"Yup. My mom's a temple nurse, and I learned some basic light arts from her before I left home. Nothing too fancy, but I can mend a cut, ease pain, and cast a small blessing or two."
Ryn's eyes lit up.
"That's amazing! Back in my village, we had to use herbs and hope for the best."
Taren chuckled.
"Heh. Well, I can't use high-tier healing yet. Those require licensed magic circles and certification from the Guild of Clerics. I'm more of a… field medic."
"Still, that's awesome," Ryn said earnestly. "A healer and a swordsman — sounds like we'd make a solid team."
Taren grinned.
"Exactly what I was thinking. When I get my guild badge, we should form a party together. What do you say?"
Ryn hesitated for a heartbeat, surprised.
"A… party? You mean like a real adventuring team?"
"Yeah! You've got the sword, I've got the healing. We'll just need a mage later on, and maybe someone who can cook."
"I can cook!" Ryn said proudly.
"Then we're halfway to glory already," Taren said, laughing.
They passed by a fruit stall, and Taren tossed the vendor a copper coin for an apple. He handed one to Ryn.
"Eat. You look like you haven't had breakfast."
Ryn bit into it, the crisp taste instantly brightening his mood.
"Thanks, bro. You're a lifesaver."
"Healer, technically," Taren corrected, grinning.
They both laughed, the sound light against the city's noise.
As they continued walking, Ryn looked around, taking in every detail — the distant sound of a blacksmith's hammer, the colorful banners strung between rooftops, the faint shimmer of magical wards protecting the main streets.
"This city's something else," he said. "Back home, we had one bakery, one tavern, and a single old man who thought he was a wizard."
"Did he actually use magic?" Taren asked.
"No, he just threw flour in people's faces and yelled, 'BEGONE, CURSE!'"
Taren burst out laughing so hard he almost dropped his apple.
"You're serious?"
"Dead serious."
They both laughed for a while, until their steps slowed and the massive spire of the Golden Hearth Inn came into view ahead — tall, warm-colored, and buzzing with activity.
Taren exhaled, looking at the sign swinging in the wind.
"Well, bro, this is it. Free food, free beds, and maybe a new beginning."
The two laughed again and stepped inside the inn — two broke dreamers with nothing but hope, hunger, and a promise of friendship.