The rain had already grown heavier when Akel entered the Adventurers' Guild.
For a few seconds, he remained by the door, allowing the warmth of the hall to drive away the cold that had settled into his clothes during the journey. The sound of water hitting the roof disappeared behind him, replaced by the noise of dozens of voices, cutlery against plates, and chairs being dragged across the wooden floor.
The hall occupied almost the entire first floor.
Tables were scattered throughout the room, some occupied by mercenaries discussing contracts, others by travelers waiting for some kind of answer. Maps covered the surfaces of several of them, held down at the corners by mugs, knives, or small stones. Near the wall, a large board was covered with sheets of paper, so many that some already overlapped one another.
The smell of wet leather, hot food, alcohol, and old wood filled the air.
Akel pulled back his hood.
A few drops ran from his black hair down to his forehead. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and walked toward the counter.
The woman responsible for the contracts was organizing documents when she noticed him approaching. She was a little over forty and had a tired expression, the kind that seemed to have been shaped over many years of work. Her eyes passed over Akel's muddy boots, then his still-damp clothes, and finally the small bag attached to his saddle.
"Contract?"
Akel placed the bag on the counter.
"Eight Kierans."
She looked at the bag.
There was no surprise.
Only a small sigh as she opened it.
The smell of the swamp reached her. The woman made an almost imperceptible grimace, removed one of the remains, and examined it beneath the lantern light.
"Eight," she confirmed.
Akel nodded.
She set the evidence aside and picked up the document he had handed her.
"You went alone?"
"I did."
The woman raised her eyes.
This time, she watched him for a few seconds.
"That region isn't usually peaceful."
"I know."
She returned to the form.
"Even so, you went."
Akel didn't answer.
The woman didn't press either. She continued filling out the records, making a few notes on the paper before pressing the Guild's seal into the wax.
"Name?"
"Akel Levis."
The pen stopped.
It was only for an instant, but Akel noticed.
"Levis?"
"Yes."
She looked at the document again.
"I've seen that name before."
Akel remained still.
"It's not that uncommon."
The woman seemed to think about something, but decided not to continue.
"Perhaps."
She finished the record and opened a small wooden box. She counted the coins without haste, separating them into small piles before placing them into a pouch.
She pushed the payment across the counter.
Akel took the pouch and weighed it in his hand.
"It's right."
"I hope so."
He put the money inside his coat.
The woman closed the record book.
"Your contract is complete."
Akel nodded.
That was it.
No questions about the bodies.
No questions about the swamp.
No curiosity about how he had killed eight creatures alone.
Just a record, a seal, and a few coins.
Death, in that place, seemed to have been turned into paperwork.
Akel stepped away from the counter.
The hall continued functioning as before.
A man entered carrying his companion by the arm. The injured mercenary limped and had a makeshift bandage wrapped around his forearm. No one interrupted their conversations to watch them for more than a few seconds.
Near the contract board, two men were arguing over the payment for an escort job.
At a table farther away, a woman was silently crying while another mercenary read a sheet of paper in front of her.
Akel looked away.
He kept walking.
That was when he noticed that some people were looking at him.
Not at the sword.
Nor the mud.
At his eyes.
He already knew that look.
Akel kept walking.
"Hunter."
The voice came from a table near the window.
He stopped.
The man sitting there looked to be a little over forty. He had a short beard, a scar running across part of his chin, and simple clothes, worn by time but well cared for. He didn't seem like someone interested in impressing others.
The mug in his hand remained suspended for a moment before he placed it back on the table.
"Your eyes give you away."
Akel turned only his head.
"And does that matter?"
The man shrugged.
"To some people."
Akel looked around.
No one seemed to be paying attention to the conversation.
"And to you?"
"I'm still deciding."
Akel studied him.
There was curiosity in the man's face, but no contempt.
After a few seconds, Akel pulled out the chair across from him.
"Then decide while sitting down."
The man seemed surprised by the response, but a small smile appeared on his face.
"Garren."
"Akel."
"I heard."
Akel sat down.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Garren rotated the mug between his fingers.
"You really went alone?"
Akel looked at the rain beyond the window.
"I didn't take anyone."
"That wasn't exactly what I asked."
Akel turned his eyes toward him.
"Then yes."
Garren exhaled through his nose, almost laughing, but didn't quite smile.
"Eight Kierans."
"The contract said eight."
"And you thought it was worth it?"
Akel thought before answering.
"The payment was worth it."
Garren nodded.
"That answer I understand."
He took a sip.
"I've seen four men enter that swamp looking for three creatures and come back without finding a single one."
"Maybe they didn't know how to search."
"Maybe."
Garren rested his elbow on the table.
"Or maybe you know something they don't."
Akel didn't answer immediately.
His gaze remained on the window.
"Knowing a creature helps."
"And killing it?"
"Those are different things."
Garren fell silent.
Akel continued:
"Knowing where it lives doesn't mean knowing how it will react when it realizes you're nearby. And knowing how to kill it doesn't mean you'll be able to get close enough."
Garren watched him more closely.
"Did you learn that on your own?"
"Some things."
"And the others?"
Akel ran his thumb along the side of his hand. There was still dirt caught between his fingers.
"From those who knew more than I did."
Garren realized that answer ended the subject.
He didn't press.
A group passed near the table. An elf carried a bow on her back, accompanied by two humans and a dwarf. They were talking about a road to the north, discussing whether it would be better to go through the forest or go around a flooded region.
Garren followed them with his eyes.
"There's quite a few outsiders around here."
"I noticed."
"Elves, dwarves. Sometimes vampires. Werewolves show up too."
Akel turned his eyes toward him.
"Here?"
"Why not?"
"Some cities don't like them."
Garren moved his mug across the table.
"Mirior has bigger problems."
Akel waited.
"When a creature starts attacking your livestock, it doesn't matter much whether it has fangs, claws, or an appearance that scares its neighbors. People want someone capable of making it stop."
Akel nodded.
"And if it isn't a monster?"
Garren raised an eyebrow.
"Then it depends on who you ask."
Akel didn't answer.
Neither did Garren.
The rain struck the windows, gradually weakening.
After a few seconds, Garren spoke again.
"Are you from Mirior?"
"No."
"Figured."
Akel looked at him.
"Why?"
"You still look at things."
Akel slightly furrowed his brow.
Garren discreetly pointed toward the hall.
"People born here don't notice the Guild anymore. Or the bad roads. Or the rain. Or mercenaries coming in with blood on their clothes."
Akel looked at the man who had been carried inside a few minutes earlier.
Someone was now tending to his arm.
"Is it really that common?"
Garren took a moment to answer.
"More than it should be."
Akel remained silent.
Garren took another sip.
"Where are you from?"
Akel didn't answer immediately.
"I've traveled a lot."
"That isn't a place."
"I know."
Garren waited.
Akel added nothing.
This time, the man didn't press.
"All right."
He leaned back in his chair.
"You seem to like short answers."
"Not always."
"When do you like to talk?"
Akel looked at him.
"When I have something to say."
Garren let out a short breath, almost a laugh.
"Fair enough."
For a while, they talked about contracts.
Garren explained that Mirior had enough work for anyone willing to travel far from the cities. There were isolated farms, roads where merchants disappeared, areas of forest that needed to be cleared, and swamp regions where monsters built nests.
It wasn't a rich place.
But there was always someone willing to pay for another person to face what no one wanted to face.
"That's why the Guild stays crowded," Garren said. "Here, a man with a sword can find work before he can even find a bed."
Akel looked at the board.
Some contracts had disappeared since he entered.
Others had already taken their places.
"And Hunters?"
"They find work too."
Akel looked away from the board.
"Even with their eyes?"
Garren became serious.
"Especially because of them."
Akel waited.
"People may not like you," Garren continued, "but when something enters the fields during the night, no one asks what color your eyes are before asking for help."
Akel looked toward the window again.
"It used to be different."
Garren noticed the change in his voice.
"Much?"
Akel remained silent for a few seconds.
"Enough."
Garren didn't ask what had happened.
Perhaps he realized that some questions didn't need to be asked.
Akel rested his arms on the table.
"People still stare."
"You got used to it?"
Akel looked at his own hands.
Then at the hall.
"I notice it."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Akel remained silent for a few seconds.
"It still bothers me."
Garren nodded.
"But you keep walking in."
"I do."
"Then maybe that's what matters."
Akel didn't answer.
The conversation fell silent.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence.
For the first time since entering the Guild, Akel didn't feel the need to look for somewhere to leave.
The lanterns had been lit. The hall was darker now, and the yellowish light stretched the shadows across the walls. Some mercenaries were beginning to put away their equipment, while others arrived looking for night contracts.
Garren finished his drink.
"Have you worked outside Mirior?"
"Yes."
"Valaria?"
"A few times."
"Umbria?"
"That too."
Garren nodded.
"Then you've seen more of the continent than many people who spend their entire lives traveling."
Akel didn't answer.
"And Karnazad?"
"Once."
"Which one do you prefer?"
Akel thought.
"None."
Garren raised an eyebrow.
"Safe answer."
"They're different places."
"And Mirior?"
Akel looked at the hall.
At the people.
At the contract board.
At the rain outside, now beginning to weaken.
"I'm still deciding."
Garren didn't smile.
"Maybe that's better."
Akel slightly furrowed his brow.
"Why?"
Garren looked at the empty mug.
"Because when someone decides too quickly that they like a place, they're usually trying not to think about the place they came from."
Akel remained still.
Garren realized he had gone too far.
"Sorry."
Akel looked away.
"You don't have to be."
Another silence.
This time, heavier.
Akel didn't know exactly why he remained seated.
Maybe it was exhaustion.
Maybe it was the rain.
Or perhaps he was simply used to going days without talking to anyone who wasn't trying to sell him something or hand him a contract.
Then he asked a question that had nothing to do with Mirior.
"What was the most dangerous monster you've ever faced?"
Garren stopped.
The hand holding the mug remained still.
He didn't answer.
Akel noticed.
"You don't have to answer."
Garren raised his eyes.
"Why did you ask?"
"Because you talk like someone who's seen a lot."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Akel held his gaze.
"You talk about monsters without fear."
Garren lowered his eyes to the mug.
"It's not fear."
"Then what is it?"
The man remained silent.
Around them, the Guild continued to be filled with voices, footsteps, and noises. Even so, for a few seconds, it seemed as though that space had grown distant.
Garren ran his thumb along the rim of the mug.
"Maybe I'll tell you another time."
Akel studied his face.
There was no smile.
Nor any attempt to change the subject.
Only a memory Garren clearly didn't want to bring back.
Akel nodded.
"All right."
He stood.
Garren did as well.
"If you're looking for somewhere to stay, there's an inn two streets from here. The Old Oak."
"Is it good?"
"It's clean."
Akel waited.
"And cheap," Garren added.
"Then it'll do."
Garren gave a small nod.
"Good night, Akel."
"Good night."
Akel walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked one last time at the contract board.
The paper announcing the elimination of the Kierans had already been removed.
In its place, another contract occupied the space.
A farm to the north.
Missing livestock.
Akel looked away.
He opened the door.
The rain had weakened to a light drizzle.
His horse was beneath the shelter in front of the Guild, its head lowered and its coat still damp. When Akel approached, the animal raised its head and pressed its muzzle against his shoulder.
Akel placed a hand on its neck.
He remained like that for a few seconds.
Without saying anything.
Then he took the reins and began leading it through the streets.
Night had fallen over Mirior.
The shops were closing, some windows remained illuminated, and lanterns reflected on the wet stones. The smell of food escaped from the houses, mixing with the scent of rain.
Akel walked slowly.
The payment was in his pocket.
The contract was over.
Tomorrow there would be another.
Maybe.
But as he crossed those unfamiliar streets, one of Garren's words kept returning to his mind.
When someone decides too quickly that they like a place, they're usually trying not to think about the place they came from.
Akel didn't know if he agreed.
Perhaps that was why he kept thinking about it.