The First Commission
Once I reached the inn, the guidebook I’d received from the Swordsman Guild proved packed with useful knowledge.
The part they hammered home hardest was never to skimp on armor. A bold red warning declared that only sturdy protection would keep you alive.
So I really should pour money into armor, huh?
I glanced down at what I was wearing. Old leather shoes, a threadbare cloth shirt, and over that a crude fur coat some village hunter had stitched together, topped with a wolf-pelt hood. That was the whole of it.
It looked pitifully thin, no question. Still, the thought of commissioning proper armor right now made me hesitate.
I was only thirteen. After winter I’d turn fourteen—still deep in my growing years. Any armor fitted to me today would be useless before long. And even if I wanted one, would they even have anything my size? Custom work would only drive the price higher.
I still had a fair amount of coin left, but living alone meant learning thrift. In the end I headed for the Adventurer’s Guild exactly as I was. Buying gear could wait; first I wanted to complete a real mission as an adventurer.
The guild hall bustled with people. I pushed through the crowd toward the receptionist, whose face was etched with exhaustion.
“Hello.”
First impressions matter. A tired person might snap for no reason, so a polite approach seemed wisest.
“Huh?”
The receptionist’s brow twitched as he lifted his head. He scanned the room, then finally looked down and noticed me.
“Here for a request, are you?”
“No. I’m here to take one.”
He tilted his head, clearly deciding from my small frame that I couldn’t possibly be an adventurer. I quickly unhooked the bronze plaque from my belt and held it up.
“See?”
“Oh…”
Surprise flickered across his face. He nodded and pointed toward a board.
“That one’s the Bronze Rank board. Grab any request that takes your fancy.”
I have to pick it myself?
I nodded and walked over. The board was plastered with every kind of request imaginable—escorts, goblin parts, even a lost cat.
While I stood there deliberating, curious eyes drifted toward me.
“Hmm…”
Two jobs stood out: collecting goblin ears and gathering a rare herb. Their locations overlapped; I could finish both in one trip.
I tore the two slips free and returned to the counter.
“Red Deer Horn gathering and a goblin subjugation… Young lady, sure you don’t need a party?”
The receptionist eyed the papers, then me, with open concern. I decided to ask.
“Are goblins really strong?”
“Well… not exactly strong, but—”
“If a wolf fought a goblin, who’d win?”
“Depends on the situation…”
“So they’re about even?”
“I… suppose?”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
And just like that I accepted both commissions.
“You’ve got three days starting today. Miss the deadline and there’s no pay—keep that in mind. Reward comes after a fifteen-percent guild fee.”
I nodded at his careful warnings. The same details had been in the Swordsman Guild’s booklet.
Leaving the hall, I made straight for Adventurer’s Row and opened the guidebook again, buying the basics one by one: flint and lamp, rope and waterskin, oil and cloth for blade care. Once I started, the list of necessities grew longer than expected. Still, every item was essential for an adventurer. I smiled at the satisfying weight of my pack.
Next came dried fruit and jerky. The goblin habitat was roughly a day’s round trip, so one day’s rations would do.
Fully prepared, I was about to pass through the great city gate when familiar voices rose nearby.
“Is this really the place?”
“Emily!”
“Excuse me—have you seen a pretty girl with blonde hair?”
I turned. Twin figures with blue hair were racing about in a frenzy. How could I forget them? Su and Shu, the twins who’d trained with the sword back in our village. If they were here, their parents might be too.
I yanked the wolf hood over my head. The great maw swallowed my face completely. Getting caught meant being dragged back to the countryside forever.
I slipped carefully through the gate. Luck held—the twins, still darting about, never spotted me and soon vanished into the distance.
Outside the walls I lengthened my stride, following the road that led not toward any village but toward the great mountain range. Keep to this path and the goblin habitat would appear—at least according to the map I carried.
Other adventurers shared the road, all trudging toward the city with weary, dragging steps. The reek of sweat and the dirt caked on their clothes suggested they’d been rolling around with monsters in the hills. I gave them a wide berth.
Two hours of walking and meeting more of the same brought me to a firm conclusion: the adventurer’s life held precious little romance. Sweat-soaked, bloodied, and staggering—how different were they from laborers fresh off a brutal construction site?
I walked on, seriously rethinking the profession, until a sudden cool scent lifted my head.
Damp earth, rotting leaves, the soft collision of grass and foliage in the wind.
Saaaah—
A chill winter breeze brushed my cheek, and the mountain rose before me in all its vastness.
“Hnn…”
I sniffed and stepped into the foothills. Climbing was no hardship; for a girl who’d spent her whole life in the countryside, the mountain was home. Even with a heavy pack I bounded upward without trouble.
A winter mountain is unnaturally quiet. Any approach would be impossible to miss. Far off, leaves rustled.
I unfolded the map and headed for the marked habitat of Red Deer Horn. But the spot on the map held not a single stalk. Of course—anyone could see the map, so others had already stripped it bare.
“Hnn…”
I perched on a nearby boulder, stomach growling after the long trek. A few pieces of dried fruit and a strip of jerky went into my mouth; I chewed slowly while sipping water.
My gaze climbed a towering tree. Snow blossoms crowned its bare branches, scattering gently whenever the wind stirred.
Meal finished, I pushed deeper into the mountain. The foothills clearly held no more of the herb.
I stopped and scanned the slopes. Where people travel, paths form—and herbs vanish from their edges. So I climbed where no human trace remained.
“Oh…!”
After some time I spotted a red plant half-buried in snow. Its shape truly resembled a stag’s antlers—hence the name Red Deer Horn. I had no idea what it was used for; I only knew I was supposed to bring it back.
I brushed off the snow, wrapped the herb in cloth, and tucked it carefully into my pack. Still short of the required amount. Using the first find as a center, I searched the surrounding area and dug up six more roots. The request asked for three; the rest I could sell on my own. Judging by how people posted special commissions for it, the stuff was probably scarce and expensive on the open market.
I was lost in pleasant daydreams when the crisp crunch of snow and leaves reached me from far away.
No ordinary insect sounds in a winter mountain. I couldn’t have misheard.
I drew my sword with care.
Shiiing—
At the edge of my vision something moved strangely. A shape half-covered in snow-dusted leaves crept forward. I squinted. For an instant a patch of dull green skin showed through.
No doubt. A goblin, hiding under leaves and snow. The habitat was supposed to be near the Red Deer Horn grounds—this had to be one of them.
I lowered my stance and watched. The goblin moved steadily in one direction. At the end of its path a pure-white snow rabbit basked in the sun. Hunting, then.
I had no silent-step technique. Only one choice remained: charge.
I set my pack down and gripped the sword with both hands. The goblin’s attention was locked on the rabbit. If I didn’t strike now, the chance would vanish.
I drew a deep breath and kicked off the ground.
Tak—!
Pashshsh—!
Snow-laden leaves exploded in a noisy cascade. The rabbit’s ears shot up; in a blink it vanished.
“Krrrk!”
The goblin sprang upright in panic—a fatal mistake. The distance closed in a heartbeat. Its eyes finally found me. It leapt in alarm, but my blade was already thrusting.
Kwaaak—!
The sword punched straight through the goblin’s chest. A dull ache flared in my wrists from the imperfect grip, but there was no time to notice.
“Kieeek!”
It thrashed with the steel still buried in its body. I twisted the blade, slammed it to the ground, then snatched up a nearby rock and smashed its skull. The goblin shuddered once and went limp.
No hesitation. No regret. Not even a flicker of guilt for ending a life. Only pure, surging adrenaline flooded my mind.
“Haa…!”
I released the breath I’d been holding and sank to the ground. My first victory, won alone, flooded me with fierce, intoxicating joy.