Chapter 42: Adventurers’ Guild (2)
"Exactly. They also register hunting missions, beast extermination requests, caravan escorts, and ruin exploration assignments. Many adventurers make a living from that. It’s dangerous work, but for those with skill, it can be profitable."
Lukas thought for a moment.
"Were you ever an adventurer, Father?"
Clavor laughed, a short laugh devoid of humor.
"No. I never needed to be. I was a soldier under one of the kingdom’s dukes. And nobility gave me other responsibilities. But I know many who followed that path. Some became wealthy. Others died."
"How many died?"
"More than I would like to count."
Lukas fell silent, digesting the information.
’Life here is more fragile than on Earth.’ He thought.
’Dangerous beasts, risky missions, bandits, among other things I still know nothing about... it’s like having death lurking around every corner.’
’But it also seems to have many opportunities. From wealth to knowledge.’
They arrived at the carriage.
Clavor untied the ropes securing the corpse, firm, well-tied knots, and with a grunt of effort, hoisted the massive body of the One-Horned Tiger onto his shoulders.
Lukas watched in admiration.
The beast’s body must have weighed hundreds of kilograms. Its front legs dangled in front of his father, the hind legs behind, and the broken horn pointed toward the sky. Even dead, the animal commanded respect.
Yet Clavor carried it as if it were nothing more than a large sack of grain.
’Father is really strong...’
The two walked together through the streets.
The weight of the dead tiger drew attention. People stopped, whispered, pointed. Children stared with wide eyes, half fear, half fascination. Merchants interrupted their negotiations to watch the carcass pass by.
"A One-Horned Tiger..."
"Look at the size of that thing..."
"Who killed it? That man? He’s huge too..."
Some adventurers, men and women wearing worn armor, scars on their faces, and tired eyes, looked on with respect.
They recognized the difficulty of a hunt like that. Others looked with envy at the value of the hide, the horn, and the bones.
Lukas walked beside his father, feeling the weight of all those eyes upon them.
The Adventurers’ Guild was located in the commercial district, near the central market, a strategic location, easy to find, close to where adventurers spent most of their time.
The building was large and sturdy, built from reinforced gray stone, with small windows and wide doors. Above the main entrance, a symbol had been carved into the stone. A sword crossed with a shield, both wrapped in chains.
The building looked like a fortress. It had been designed to withstand attacks, with thick walls, massive wooden doors reinforced with metal, very few windows, and all of them too high to reach.
"We’re here." Announced Clavor, pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder.
The interior of the Adventurers’ Guild was bustling.
The main hall was spacious, with a high ceiling and exposed wooden beams. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling on iron chains, illuminating the room with a flickering yellow glow. The floor was made of uneven stone, worn smooth by years of boots and armor. The smell was a mixture of sweat, tanned leather, metal, and beer.
Most of the people inside carried weapons, swords at their waists, bows on their backs, axes hanging from broad belts.
They were strong, and muscular, with visible scars on their arms and faces. Some wore full armor, while others wore only dark, practical leather clothing.
But none appeared as imposing as Clavor.
The corpse of the One-Horned Tiger on his shoulders immediately drew attention.
The murmur of the hall diminished. Heads turned. Conversations were interrupted. Some adventurers rose from their benches to get a better look.
"That’s a One-Horned Tiger..."
"Is that Baron Dmond? I know the name. A family of swordsmen."
"Look at the size of that beast. Did he kill it alone?"
"With just a sword, judging by the marks."
Whispers spread through the hall like ripples across a lake.
Clavor walked to the center of the hall, where a long counter of dark wood served as the reception area. He stopped before it and, with a controlled movement, set the corpse on the ground with a dull thud that made the floorboards vibrate.
Dust rose into the air.
Immediately, a middle-aged receptionist approached.
She wore the guild’s uniform, a dark blue tunic with the sword-and-shield emblem embroidered on the chest, along with practical leather trousers. Her brown hair was tied into a ponytail, and her green eyes were sharp and experienced. She approached respectfully, giving a slight bow.
"Baron Dmond." She greeted him, her voice calm and professional.
"It’s been a long time. I see you’ve brought a fine specimen today."
"Hello, Mira." Clavor replied, wiping his hands on his trousers.
"How much will you give me for it?"
The receptionist, Mira, crouched beside the corpse.
Lukas watched as she examined the body with experienced eyes, her movements swift and precise. She ran her hands over the hide, feeling its texture, thickness, and quality. She inspected the broken horn, measuring the length of the remaining fragment and examining the fracture.
She smelled the dried blood, estimating the time since death. She opened the beast’s mouth, examining the fangs, all intact, long and curved, each bearing a small groove used to channel mana.
"The hide is in excellent condition." She said thoughtfully.
"I rarely see a One-Horned Tiger with so few scratches. You are very skilled with a sword, sir."
"I had good teachers." Clavor replied modestly.
"The broken horn lowers the value somewhat, unfortunately. If it were intact, it would be worth twice as much. Even so..."
She paused, calculating mentally.
"One gold coin and two silver coins. That’s the best offer I can make."
Clavor thought for a second, his eyes sweeping across the hall, judging whether anyone else might offer more. But there was no competition. The guild was the only reliable buyer.
He nodded.
"Deal."
Mira smiled, a professional smile, but a genuine one.
"Excellent. Thank you for your business, Baron Dmond."
She called over three sturdy men who had been sitting on a nearby bench waiting for work, laborers employed by the guild. The three stood up, approached the corpse, and tried to lift it together.
They grunted. Sweated. Stumbled.
"This thing is heavy as hell!"
"Pull from the head, not the tail!"
"Who killed this monster?"
They could barely carry the tiger, staggering beneath its weight, their legs trembling.
