Chapter 2 - The First Quest

“Uh, pardon me, good sir,” the farmer said, as he entered Beacon Hall—removing his hat.

“Name’s Emmett. I heard that folks can post jobs here for adventurers to take on?”

Eight-year old Pip tugged at Arlen’s coat excitedly at the sight of his first patron.

“That’s right! And how can I help you, Emmett?”

Emmett scratched his beard.

“Got a problem with giant rodents. Big ones. They’ve been rooting through my fields, scaring my livestock. Haven’t gotten violent, but I reckon it’s only a matter of time. If you got someone willing to rid ‘em off, I’d be grateful.”

While the farmer’s rodent dilemma wasn’t ideal, Arlen couldn’t have asked for a more fitting first task for his new guild.

Low risk and an easy introduction for would-be adventurers.

"I ain't got much, sir, but I can offer you what I can spare. If fifty silver ain’t fair enough, I can put up some produce from my farm... or what’s left of it,” Emmett said, still scratching. It was clear he wasn’t used to this kind of arrangement.

Arlen offered a patient smile, but his voice carried the steadiness of experience.

He thought back to the guilds he’d passed through—those that thrived and those that struggled. He’d learned that reputation was everything: it wasn’t just about gold, but trust, fairness, and building ties with the people.

He isn’t here to rob Breezevale out of its gold, after all.

“I’ll be straight with you,” Arlen said. “It’s hard to say what’s ‘fair’ for a job like this, but from what I’ve seen, the going rate to take down a rodent that size is about two silver apiece.”

Emmett’s shoulders eased a little.

“Now, judging by the size of your land, I’d guess you’re dealing with a small colony. Maybe fifteen, give or take. Here’s my offer: we post the job at a base reward of thirty silver. For every adult rodent beyond that, you offer three silver. One for the juveniles. That way, it encourages thorough work.”

He paused before finishing, “And the guild only takes a tenth of the total reward as our fee. Standard rate from across the Known Lands from what I can tell.”

Emmett beamed and extended a hand.

“That sounds mighty fair! Thank you, good sir!”

====

Days passed, but no one took the quest.

The notice tacked outside began to curl at the corners, its parchment tugged by wind and weather, one edge slowly tearing away from its nail.

Every time Arlen passed it, he felt a small twist in his gut. He hadn’t seen Emmett since, but he was sure the farmer was growing more uneasy with each silent day.

Breezevale wasn’t used to guild business yet—most locals saw fighting monsters as something for knights or mercenaries. The adventuring spirit hadn’t quite taken root, and if no one stepped up soon, Arlen feared it never would.

“If no one’s gonna do the quest, can’t we be the ones to kill off the rats?” Pip said, hanging on the edge of the guild counter, waiting for something exciting to happen. “I mean… you’re strong. You’ve got magic and everything.”

“I could,” Arlen looked down at the boy and smiled, but there was a weight behind it. “And I’ve done plenty of jobs like this before. But that’s not what this guild is about.”

Pip tilted his head. “It’s not?”

“This place isn’t here so I can do everything myself,” Arlen said gently. “It’s here so others can. Even you someday when you grow big and strong. Learning to be adventurers, learning to help others just like I did when I started.”

Pip frowned, chewing on that. “But what if nobody comes?”

Arlen clicked at an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner?

“Then I’ll go find them,” Arlen said, rising to his feet and grabbing his cloak with renewed resolve.

“One way or another, someone will answer that call. They just don’t know it yet.”

====

Wandering through town, Arlen spotted a group of teenagers loitering near the town’s water well. He recognized them—local youths known for avoiding hard labour.

They were Cedric Trell, a stocky boy with untamed brown hair and a habit of embellishing stories; Lyle Fairwind, lanky and skeptical, but always looking for easy coin; and Marla Vexley, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, always ready with a remark.

“Morning,” the mage called as he approached, arms folded. “You three too busy to do something heroic?”

The three turned their attention to Arlen. Word had been making rounds through town ever since his return, but the stories varied.

Some said he was a washed-up adventurer trying to play town hero. Others whispered that he was a funny old man—maybe dangerous—but crazy enough to buy the haunted inn where, long ago, the former innkeeper had committed gruesome murders before taking his own life inside it.

Cedric leaned toward the others, whispering just loud enough. “That’s him, right? The crazy who bought the Beacon Star?”

Marla eyed Arlen with mild amusement. “I thought he’d be taller. Better looking than you two, at least.”

“Thought he’d have a beard,” Lyle shrugged. “Or at least a big pointy hat.”

Arlen, clearly hearing all of it, arched an eyebrow. “I can still walk away, you know.”

Marla smirked. “Nah. Haunted inn or not, you’ve got our attention.”

“Haunted, wha—? Never mind, got a job for you three,” Arlen said. “Exciting work. Pays, too.”

Cedric snorted. “What, hauling crates? No, thanks.”

“Not quite,” Arlen countered with a smirk. “How about taking down some giant rodents?”

Lyle’s eyes widened. “Giant rodents? How big?”

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“Big enough that a farmer’s worried about his livestock.”

“And you’re asking us?” Marla scoffed. “That sounds more like a problem for cats.”

“Big cats,” Arlen shot back with a playful grin. “The farmer’s offering silver for whoever clears them out.”

The three started to whisper among themselves at the proposition.

“Why not?” Arlen shrugged. “You’re able-bodied, have free time, and from what I hear, no shortage of bravado. Sounds like a perfect fit.”

“We’re not adventurers,” Lyle said, frowning. “We’re... just kids.”

“So were most adventurers when they started,” Arlen replied. “You’ve got a chance to do something real. Or you can sit here all day and see who can spit the farthest.”

That earned a sideways grin from Marla. “How much silver did you say?”

“Thirty plus bonuses. And payment is guaranteed—if you succeed.”

Cedric nudged Lyle. “C’mon, man. We’ve fought off worse than rats in the cellar.”

“Those were mice,” Lyle grunted.

“Details.”

Marla stood up. “Alright. Let’s do it. Might be fun.”

Cedric beamed. “Yeah! Let’s show these rodents who runs Breezevale!”

Arlen gave them an approving nod—and allowing himself a small smile.

====

The fields on Emmett’s farm stretched wide, the damage from the giant rodents easily noticeable—vegetable patches rudely dug through, rows of greens trampled, and cabbages gnawed beyond recognition yet still stubbornly rooted to the ground.

Burrows laid abundant—the rodents clearly nested deep within.

At the base of the farmland, Arlen met the makeshift group of adventurers: Cedric, Lyle, and Marla.

Each of them looked somewhere between nervous and eager, a tangle of anticipation and inexperience.

“Your goal is to kill as many as you can,” Arlen said, voice steady and commanding.

“They’re large, but not too aggressive. Just don’t underestimate them. They’ve got numbers, but so do we. Don’t all focus on a single target, and whatever you do—don’t let them swarm you.”

Cedric twirled his wooden club like it was a blade. “How many are we talking about again?”

“Expect at least fifteen,” Arlen replied. “Possibly more. Watch the burrows.”

The teenagers nodded, gripping their makeshift weapons—weathered tools more suited for chasing off livestock than fighting monsters. But in their eyes burned a flicker of something deeper than recklessness: the start of courage.

The ambush began the moment they stepped past the scarecrow.

From the nearest burrow, a giant rodent lunged out with a screech, its matted fur bristling and yellowed teeth snapping.

Cedric yelped as he finally put into context the meaning of “giant”.

But a bigger rat means an easier target as he swung his club on instinct, catching it hard across the snout. It crumpled with a surprised squeal.

One adult down.

Arlen watched from a nearby rise. He kept quiet, observing their movements, calculating how much they’d need his help—if at all.

Two more rodents scrambled out, followed by another trio from a second den, darting toward the vegetables as if drawn by instinct. Lyle shouted and rammed one with the blunt end of a broken shovel, knocking it backward. Marla darted in behind him, slicing with a rusted hand sickle, nimble and fierce.

The clearing burst into chaos—squeals, yells, dust. Arlen stayed out of sight, silently keeping count.

That’s eight adults now, he noted, eyes narrowing. And nine juveniles.

The smaller ones—barely the size of house cats—were quick, weaving between feet and trying to bite at exposed ankles. One latched onto Cedric’s boot, and he stomped it off with a curse. Lyle handled two at once, taking scrapes but holding his own. Marla darted like a shadow, always one step ahead, her movements sharp and precise.

Then the ground trembled.

A silence fell, as if the rodents themselves had gone still.

From the largest burrow at the center of the field, the brood mother emerged.

Larger than an adult boar, with patches of hardened gray hide and blind, milk-glazed eyes. Her breath came in raspy snarls, and her front teeth—long, sharp, and cracked—gnashed together as she rose to her full height and let out a keening shriek, ready to avenge her kin.

The teenagers froze.

“That… is not a normal rat,” Cedric whispered.

Arlen narrowed his eyes. His experience as an adventurer taught him to never expect a straightforward job. And these kids are learning it first-hand.

He’d hoped they could handle the rest on their own, but he couldn’t blame them as they began to falter and run for their lives.

The matriarch still had to be taken care of—she was the root cause of Emmett’s problems and allowing her to breed would mean the rat problem would persist.

Unseen, Arlen one-handedly twirled his staff, pointing its mana stone tip at the direction of the brood mother as she chased the teens at an increasing pace.

“Spark fizzles on my flesh,” the mage whispered, one eye closed for better aim. “Bolt-ling.”

A hairline jolt of lightning shot out of Arlen’s staff—thin as a thread, yet sharp as a needle. It struck the brood mother’s foreleg with a hiss, making the massive rodent stumble and shriek as her weight crashed sideways.

The teens, oblivious of the intervention, whirled around at the sound of the beast’s sudden fall.

“Hey hey! This is our shot!” Cedric shouted, charging forward and pounding his club against the matriarch’s side.

Lyle and Marla flanked her, Marla leaping in to drive a final, precise blow to the skull with a fierce cry. The brood mother collapsed in a heap.

Panting, Lyle raised his fists. “We did it!”

Arlen met them at the farm’s edge—a small smile on his face.

“Well done, gang,” Arlen nodded as he met them at the main gate—keeping his secret assistance to himself. “Let’s get back to the guild and get you paid.”

Cedric, Lyle and Marla cheered at the thought of coin jingling in their hands—already adventurers in their own eyes.

====

Back at Beacon Hall, Emmett shook Arlen’s hand with immense gratitude. A coin pouch weighs the rightful amount of reward in silver.

The mage turned to the trio readily awaiting at the front counter for their well-earned handout.

“Before I pay you,” he said as he reached for the guild’s registration ledger and flipped to its first page—blank and eager to be filled up.

“You’ll need a party name,” he said, tapping the book. “For official records.”

The three exchanged uncertain glances. “A party name?” Marla asked. “Like… an adventuring team?”

“That’s right," Arlen nodded. "Even if you don’t stick with it, you’ll always remember your first.”

His words stirred something in him—memories of another time, years ago. Back then, it had all felt like a game. But now, looking at these kids, he realized how defining such a moment could be.

………

Jared, Elena, Lucien, Arlen, Kai and Faye stood shoulder to shoulder—cramming at the counter of a bustling guild hall in Hearthpost, their gear dusty from the road. A bored-looking clerk waited behind the desk, quill in hand, tapping the logbook.

“Party name?” she asked, barely glancing up.

The group looked at each other.

Jared scratched the back of his neck. “We should settle for a new one.”

Kai muffled. “I liked the old name.”

“Fourfold Winds doesn’t work anymore,” Arlen chuckled awkwardly. “Now that there’s six of us.”

Elena leaned on the counter with a lazy grin. “How about ‘Crimson Blades’? Dramatic, no?”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Please. Only Leader and Kai have blades. You’ve got your bottles and Arlen, Faye’s got sticks.”

“What about ‘The Sixfold Winds?'” Faye offered, a bit sheepish—taking the blame for the increase in party size.

Lucien still disinterested. “That makes little sense.”

Jared chuckled. “Okay, okay. Let’s find something that fits all of us. Something about why we’re even doing this.”

They fell silent for a moment. Then Jared spoke again, this time more thoughtfully. “We all made a choice to chase something bigger. To stand for something when no one else would.”

Kai’s voice muffled. “To stay true.”

Arlen nodded. “To bind ourselves to a cause—and to each other.”

Lucien sighed dramatically, but there was a hint of agreement in his eyes. “Fine. What, like… the Valorbound Pact?”

The others looked at one another.

“That’s… actually not bad,” Faye said, surprised.

Elena smiled. “It fits.”

Jared clapped Lucien on the back. “Then it’s settled.”

The clerk, who had been listening quietly, scratched the name into the ledger.

Party Name: Valorbound Pact.

………

Cedric, never one to hesitate, grinned. “How about… the Vermin Slayers?”

Lyle rolled his eyes. “That’s awful.”

Marla smirked. “Something cooler, maybe? Like… the Ember Hawks?”

After some back and forth, they settled on a name—one simple yet bold: The Trailblazers.

Arlen wrote it down with a satisfied nod. “Alright then. Congratulations, Trailblazers. First of many quests, I hope.”

“And you can put me down as party leader,” Marla proclaimed, drawing protest from the boys.

Arlen chuckled. There were more details he could walk them through—registering classes, adventurer ranks, long-term guild tracking—but decided to let them bask in their moment.

He handed over their well-earned silver with a smile.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you around, Guildmaster!” Lyle barked as they turned to leave Beacon Hall, laughter trailing behind him.

The mage stood still for a moment, the word echoing in his mind.

He knew what he signed up for, what it meant—but hearing it aloud for the first time struck something different.

Guildmaster, huh?