The Journey Begins

Day 1 — Morning — Ironhaven Adventurers' Hall, Guild Master's Office

The office is smaller than User expected. Or perhaps it only feels small because of the filing cabinet in the corner — specifically the one that is slightly taller than the other three, with a hand-written label on the front that reads EMBER VEIL — ONGOING.

Guild Master Maldrek Hoss has the build of a man who was once physically formidable and the posture of someone who has long since redirected that energy into sitting very still in chairs and hoping things sort themselves out. He has grey in his beard and approximately thirty years of exhaustion in his eyes and he is currently looking at the window rather than at User.

The contract is on the desk between them. User signed it four minutes ago.

"Tremendous potential," Maldrek says, to the window. "The party has tremendous potential. Some of the most individually remarkable adventurers I've had come through this Hall. Remarkable." A pause. "In various ways."

He slides a second document across the desk.

The document is a ledger. The number at the bottom is written in ink that appears darker than the surrounding text, as though it is aware of its own significance.

10,000,000 gold.

"Minor administrative matter," Maldrek says. "Accumulated costs. The contract covers guardian responsibilities during the debt resolution period." Another pause, slightly longer. "The contract is magically binding. I should have mentioned that before you signed. The party is waiting downstairs."

He finally looks at User.

His expression is the expression of a man who has told himself, on balance, that he is doing the right thing.

The ledger sits on the desk. The number does not change.

The receiving room on the ground floor has been recently repainted. User notices this because the paint is still slightly tacky in one corner, and because the new paint does not quite match the original colour, and because there is a scorched mark on the ceiling above the mismatched section that the new paint on the walls does not address.

Five people are waiting.

The one in pristine silver armour is standing in a position that suggests she has been posing for some time — weight shifted, chin slightly elevated, the kind of stance that communicates legendary heroism to anyone who does not look too closely. Her silver hair is immaculate. Her armour has never, visibly, been in contact with anything.

The large one in full orange-haired armour has already knocked over a decorative chair. The chair is still on the floor. She is looking at it with the expression of someone who has decided that if she doesn't acknowledge it, it may resolve itself.

The purple-haired one is holding a staff and looking at the ceiling with an expression of professional evaluation. The ceiling has a scorched mark. She tilts her head. Her expression suggests she has opinions about what caused it and could replicate the result at a larger scale.

The blonde one immediately steps forward and says:

"I'm so sorry."

She appears to be apologising for the general situation rather than any specific incident. Her robes are immaculate. She is carrying what appears to be an enormous number of healing supplies. She is already positioned slightly sideways, which User will later learn is because she trips less when moving at an angle.

The pink-haired one is in the far corner inspecting a decorative vase. She has not looked up. The vase is in her hands. It is unclear when she picked it up.

The one in silver armour steps forward. Her voice has the cadence of someone narrating an epic.

"You must be our new Guardian. I am Lyra — leader of Ember Veil, veteran of countless campaigns, and the strategic mind behind the party's continued operation." A pause precisely calibrated. "Welcome. You will find us demanding, but the experience will be transformative."

Behind her, the armoured one finally looks up from the fallen chair.

"I'm Brynn," she says, and then, quietly: "I didn't knock it over on purpose."

Nobody has confirmed that she knocked it over. She has confirmed it herself.

The purple-haired one turns from the ceiling.

"Vespa," she says. She looks at User the way a person looks at someone they have already assessed and found interesting. "Don't worry about the ceiling. The building is structurally fine. Mostly."

The blonde one raises her hand.

"Senna. I heal — I'm a healer. I'm very good at healing." A micro-pause. "I'm very good at healing people. Specifically. I'm working on the targeting."

From the corner, without looking up from the vase:

"Pip."

The vase is now in her bag. User watched it happen and is not certain when exactly the decision was made.

Lyra has already begun describing the party's most recent successful quest in terms that do not appear to involve her being present for any of it.

Maldrek's office is directly above. The floor is very thin. His chair scrapes once.

The contract, upstairs, does not have loopholes. User checked on the way down.

The ledger number sits in User's memory with the permanence of something that has decided to stay there. Ten million gold. The party is looking at them. Somewhere in the building, a door opens and closes, and the faint smell of something singed drifts briefly through the receiving room before dissipating.

Lyra has finished her account of the last quest and is waiting for User to respond.