Chapter 5: The Golden Boy

Chapter 5: The Golden Boy

Forten turned.

Alden stood just across the floor, all effortless poise and star-student shine. His uniform jacket was rolled to the elbows in a way that looked relaxed but somehow still sharp. The clipboard tucked under his arm glowed faintly with active glyphs—task management, probably—but it was the smile that caught Forten off-guard.

That smile. That damned smile. Easy. Familiar. Like nothing had changed.

It was that same easy posture, same lopsided grin that had gotten them both out of trouble more than once. It hit Forten like a memory: racing through frost-slick alleyways, daring each other to climb too high, fall too hard, laugh too loud.

But that was before.

Now Alden looked like someone who belonged in a place like this—the kind of person buildings made room for. His hair—somehow wind-tousled indoors—walked the impossible line between naturally perfect and expensively maintained.

And when he moved, it was with the kind of casual confidence that said: I’ve done this a hundred times, and I’m still just getting started. His jacket—Guild-issue—fit like it had been tailored. The trim shimmered faintly with a personalized weave. The clipboard he carried glowed with soft guild-light, task runes scrolling neatly across the surface as if afraid to misbehave.

Alden’s eyes dropped to the lump moving under Forten’s coat.

Then Walter peeked out.

Round head. Stitched mouth. One button eye. He gave a small, polite wave with one paw—fingers stubby, stitched, and completely innocent-looking.

Alden blinked. “You brought a… toy?”

Forten pulled Walter out halfway. “He’s more of a… situation.”

Alden blinked, taking in the stitched bear as it tilted its head.

“…What is that? Some kind of automata?”

Walter tilted his head and offered Alden a little double-thumbs-up, like they were already old friends.

Alden froze, then let out a shaky laugh. “It’s always this… charming?”

“He’s warming up to you. You should feel honoured.”

Alden leaned in a little, studying Walter with a kind of amused fascination. “Is it… enchanted?”

“No.”

“Constructed?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Cursed?”

Forten hesitated. “We’re still deciding.”

Walter gave him a winning thumbs-up again. A tiny puff of warmth escaped his seams, like a quiet sigh of approval.

Alden grinned. “Okay, not going to lie—I kind of like him.”

“Yeah. He does that. Right before things get weird.”

They laughed—easy, genuine. The kind of laugh that carried years in it. The kind that said you knew me when it didn’t matter who we were going to be.

Alden stepped forward, and without thinking, they slipped into the old handshake. A snap, a twist, a light shoulder knock—clumsy, half-remembered, but still theirs.

“You still do that?” Forten said, grinning.

“Only for people who used to share burnt soup and a hole in the roof.”

Forten snorted. “Good times.”

They let the moment settle.

Then Forten glanced at the clipboard tucked under Alden’s arm. “So… what are you doing here, anyway? Thought you’d be off fighting beasts or charming professors.”

Alden gave a sheepish shrug. “Technically I’m shadowing admin staff. Part of my ‘pre-academy immersion rotation.’” He made a little air-quote motion with his fingers. “My family wants me to meet people. Shake hands. Be seen.”

Forten raised a brow. “So you’re networking?”

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“I’m learning the system,” Alden corrected, then smirked. “And okay, yeah. Networking.”

“Of course,” Forten said, mock serious. “The paperwork prodigy. Legend says he once filled out Form 17A without a single ink smudge.”

“I was twelve,” Alden said proudly.

Walter offered a slow clap.

Alden gave him a little bow. “Appreciated.”

“But seriously, you came all the way here just for paperwork?” Alden asked, already leading him to one of the side counters. “Didn’t think the Guild would let you in after what happened.”

“They didn’t. I just… walked through a door.”

Alden raised a brow. “And no one stopped you?”

“I don’t think anyone’s noticed yet.”

A pause.

Alden glanced at the bear again. “Right. Of course they didn’t. You have your papers anyway. Come, let me help. I’m doing admin hours here.”

Walter clambered up and politely placed his paw on the table.

Alden pulled open a drawer, flipping through a stack of sealed glyph tags like he’d been doing itfor years. Forten watched him work—easy, practiced, like the Guild had been waiting for him to arrive. It was always going to work out for Alden. That was never the question.

“You always said you wanted to be a Trailblazer,” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t think you’d still try. After… everything.”

Forten didn’t answer.

“You should’ve told me,” Alden said. “About coming. I could’ve—I don’t know. Done something.”

Forten shrugged. “Didn’t want to show up looking like I needed a favour.”

Alden gave him a look. “Fort, you’ve never needed a favour. Just a chance.”

There was a brief beat of silence. Then, switching tone like flicking a switch, Alden nodded toward Walter.

“So? What is he? He’s not elemental. Can’t be arcane.”

“I guessed bear. The kiosk didn’t like that.”

“Right, that’s the new system. Guild wants everything to be automata,” Alden snorted. “And because of that, it needs everything to fit in a box, preferably with a danger rating and a funding category.”

He rolled his eyes and tapped the stylus against the tag. “Let me guess. The system tried to auto-classify him?”

“Yeah. Went straight to ‘threat level undefined.’ Started spinning up forms and I have no idea what any of those meant.”

Alden grinned. “Sounds about right.”

He handed Forten the half-filled form. “I’ll push it through the back channel. Might get flagged, but it’ll buy you time.”

Forten stared at the form. “Why are you even doing admin hours anyway? Aren’t you pre-academy already? You didn’t even have to take the test – And you haven’t got your bonded, right?”

Alden shrugged. “I told you, networking. Dad says it’s good for people to know my face. I say it’s because no one else wants to fill out paperwork at six in the morning.”

“Still looks good on you though,” Forten said.

Alden flashed that grin—the one that somehow always looked like it belonged on a recruitment poster. “Everything does.”

He tapped his quill once, resetting the form. “Alright then. Let’s get your walking mystery plush registered.”

He glanced at Forten, voice dropping just a bit. “You know the Guild, right? No bonded, no shot. Almost no one gets through the Initiation without one. Without it, you’re just a name on a list they’ve already skipped. Forget about becoming a Crested—you can’t even become an Initiate…”

Forten didn’t reply. He knew that already. Had known it the moment his slab cracked and the hall went quiet. The Guild didn’t make mistakes. Just exclusions.

Initiate. Crested. Ascendant.

Three tiers. Three gates he wasn’t meant to pass through.

Initiates were the entry-point—barely. Pass the Initiation, survive the Academy, and you might get the sigil. You weren’t a full Trailblazer yet, but the Guild started taking you seriously. Sort of. You got assigned small jobs—patrols, beast tagging, clearance mapping. All supervised. All low risk. Most Initiates stayed that way. For years. Some forever. The Academy taught you how to survive, but it didn’t guarantee progress. The only guarantee was that if you stalled too long, the Guild stopped calling.

Crested were what most Trailblazers aspired to be. Bonded. Proven. Dangerous enough to matter, but still expected to follow orders. They got better missions—Tower routes, expedition work, mid-level contracts. The Guild gave them freedom, but not trust. Not entirely. Crested had rank, but not authority. Not unless you earned it. No one cared how long you’d worn the title—only how well you fought, and how many times you came back breathing.

And Ascendants?

They weren’t promoted. They were chosen.

No application. No announcement. One day, the Trifecta would send word, and suddenly your name would come with weight. These were the Guild’s legends-in-the-making. Sometimes leaders. Sometimes monsters. Sometimes both.

The difference between the lowest Ascendant and the highest could be the difference a glyph-lantern and lightning—between lighting a room or leveling a city. But the Guild didn’t rank them like that.

They didn’t dare.

Because once someone became an Ascendant… they stopped answering to anyone but the Tower.

Forten exhaled, long and quiet.

Then glanced at the bear on the desk.

Maybe, just maybe, he was holding something the Guild couldn’t name—let alone control.

“Name?”

“Walter.”

Alden raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? What kind of name is that?”

Walter gave a thumbs-up, utterly unbothered.

“Right. Species?”

Forten hesitated. “…Bear?”

“You’re killing me.”

He jotted it down anyway. “Magical classification? Elemental, arcane…?”

“Neither,” Forten said. “I picked ‘bear’ again. Didn’t go well.”

Alden chuckled. “Yeah, the system logged you as ‘undefined threat class’ for that one. They usually reserve that label for failed summonings or… things they want sealed.”

He turned slightly to Walter. “Alright, mystery bear. Got any tricks? Anything at all the Guild should know about before they assign you a safety tier?”

Walter paused.

Then, as if responding to an unspoken cue, he raised one paw and snapped his stubby fingers. The air pulsed—not sound, not heat, but pressure, like something ancient had blinked from the inside out. The lights above flickered. Just for a moment. But long enough for every glyph in the immediate area to pulse with residual mana—soft at first, then sharp.

The desk buzzed beneath Alden’s hands. His quill glitched. Somewhere deeper in the building, a containment alarm chirped—not in full panic, but in… confusion.

Walter wiggled his paw, like oops.

Alden blinked. “What was that?”

“I think that’s his version of a party trick,” Forten said.

Walter smiled up at him, perfectly harmless. Perfectly adorable.

But the room had gone noticeably quieter.

A low rumble rolled in from the eastern wing. Distant, deep—like something massive shifting in its sleep. The containment barriers shivered.

A clerk looked up.

“Did something just surge?” someone murmured nearby.