Trees were swaying against the wind as Leo, despite Matthew's exasperated groans, busied himself with skinning the recently defeated Thornhart, a deer-like creature with curved bone antlers and fur that shimmered like pine-needled velvet. Blood still darkened its belly, and its sharp hooves twitched slightly in postmortem spasms.
"I told you I can do it!" Matthew snapped, sitting cross-legged with his arms crossed and a visible frown stitched across his face.
Leo looked over his shoulder, skinning knife in hand, his black curls tousled and his hands slick with effort. "Let me do it" he replied simply, "You already hunt it, the least I can do is skin it"
"Alright, but don't you dare faint while skinning my prey" Matthew muttered.
"I'll faint first before he does" El chimed in with a smirk, seated near the fire and leaning back against her bag, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. Her arm pressed against her lower chest, where a fresh bandage peeked out from beneath her tunic. She tried to look relaxed, but her breathing told a different story.
"How long till we get to Marlingdon?" Matthew asked, eyeing her with concern more than curiosity.
"Probably by nightfall, if we don't dawdle here too long," El replied, her tone matter of fact.
Matthew's brows furrowed as he noticed her subtle winces. "Do we have to keep going straight through? I mean… we could rest halfway. It'll be bad if you push yourself too hard."
El gave a dismissive wave, though her eyes softened. "Don't worry, we're not going to be a liability. We can manage. Besides, Leo and I already scouted the forest's edge. It's open—just grassland and a dirt road leading straight to Marlingdon. No thick woods, no monster nests."
Matthew's mouth opened slowly in disbelief. "What? You what? I told you two to stay put! That was dangerous! What if—"
"We're here, aren't we?" El interrupted, raising a brow. "Alive, intact mostly. We didn't go sightseeing, just peeked. We had Tavon's map, so I just give a little check"
Leo, still skinning the Thornhart, chimed in without looking up. "El's idea. I was just muscle and good looks."
El gave him a sharp look. "You tripped over a root and rolled downhill like a bag of cabbages."
"That was tactical rolling," Leo said defensively.
El returned to her explanation. "Point is: the road is too open to safely camp in the middle. No cover, no trees. So the best move is to reach Marlingdon in one push even if it means walking until nightfall."
"I just hope there's a hospital there," Leo muttered, yanking the last patch of hide free. "We need you to get checked up, El. Seriously."
El didn't answer. Her silence lingered long enough to say she knew he was right.
Matthew looked between them, still fuming but slowly calming down. "Don't worry," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Old Man Tavon said Marlingdon's a proper town, right? Not some rickety one-road village like Axbrid."
"Yeah, he said it's got shops, walls, people probably an inn too," Leo added, rising with a satisfied sigh and wiping his hands on a cloth that immediately regretted its existence.
"An inn?" Matthew's eyes lit up like stars. "Finally! I can wash up! Sleep in a bed! Maybe get a hot meal that isn't half-rabbit-half-question-mark!"
"Don't forget," Leo said, grinning, "you still owe me a drink from the last time you made me keep watch while you 'rested your eyes.'"
Matthew put a hand to his heart. "I was meditating."
"You were snoring in haiku," Leo muttered.
They all laughed, the sound echoing softly into the forest's edge. For now, despite the blood and bruises, they had each other and the promise of something warm and waiting just beyond the trees.
After a quick rest and lunch they gather their belonging and proceed go to Marlingdon
The Guild building stood proud near the town square of Marlingdon two stories of solid stone and dark timber, its front etched with banners and sigils representing different mercenary houses. The heavy oak doors creaked as Leo and Matthew stepped inside, drawing immediate attention.
The air inside was thick with sweat, smoke, and the low hum of chatter. Mercenaries of all shapes and sizes filled the common hall. Some lounged at round tables playing dice games, others bragged about monster kills, slamming mugs of ale on the wooden counter. Weapons of every kind—axes, halberds, curved swords, and even enchanted staves hung at their backs.
But when Leo and Matthew entered, a few conversations faltered. Heads turned. Curious eyes lingered.
It wasn't every day that two teenagers walked into the Guild looking like they'd just returned from the frontlines of a battlefield. Leo had dried blood crusted on his sleeve, a streak across his cheek, and his shirt was torn at the collar. Matthew still had bruises on his knuckles and a smirk of someone who'd survived something ridiculous.
"I feel like everyone's waiting for us to burst into flames or something," Leo muttered, trying to flatten his hair.
"Relax," Matthew replied, grinning. "We just look cooler than the average meathead in here."
They made their way to the front counter where a young woman greeted them with a practiced, if slightly amused, smile. Her name tag read Nina, and her brown hair was tied neatly in a braid.
"Welcome to the Marlingdon Mercenary Guild! Looking to register or just here to brag?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head.
"We need identification," Leo said, resting his elbows on the counter. "We were told this is the place."
"Newcomers, huh?" Nina's smile widened. "Well, you're in luck. Best way to get ID around here is by registering as mercenaries. You hunt, you get paid. And you're allowed to sell spoils at affiliated markets and shops."
"That... actually sounds perfect," Matthew said. "We do hunt."
"Clearly," Nina said, gesturing to their battle-worn appearance. "Alright, then. You'll need to fill this out—name, age, and your borne type."
She slid a sheet of parchment toward them. The form was straightforward until they reached the line marked Borne Classification.
"Borne what now?" Leo asked, blinking at the parchment.
"You two don't know?" Nina raised an eyebrow but caught herself. "No worries. Happens with folks from the countryside. I'll give you the crash course."
She leaned on the counter, fingers tapping as she explained:
MORTAL CLASSIFICATION
Hollowborn – "The lowest rung, sorry to say. No Spirit Essence. Can't use Domari or True Names. Strong as normal humans, but that's it. Kinda rare."
Ironwilled – "All muscle, all grit. Can reach peak physical mastery and invoke True Names with enough training. Spirit-wise? Pretty low, but dependable."
Essenceborne – "River of spirit, light on brawn. They can invoke several True Names, even at a young age, but probably can't lift a boulder without breaking something."
Duskborne – "Balanced. Rare. Good at both spirit and strength, but need tons of work to be great at either."
Aetherborne – "Very rare. They're basically born with a domain like fire, ice, wind, gravity and they don't need Primal Language to command it. Still needs a high Spirit Essence to truly shine. She leaned and whispered it is actually quite common to see in nobles since its hereditary but rare for common folks like us"
Starforged – "Mythic tier. Time, space, death, matter... cosmic forces. But they can't use Domari at all. Too incompatible. Still, people would kill just to see one."
Matthew scratched his head. "Old man Tavon said I was Ironwilled. So I'll put that."
Leo looked blankly at the form. "I... I don't know mine."
"Wait," Matthew said suddenly. "Didn't Tavon mention you were Essenceborne before passing out. Hah! Good old days"
Leo blinked. "Right... he did?. I'll go with that, then."
They handed the forms back to Nina, minutes later she gave them two iron tags, dog tag-like necklaces etched with their names and classification. She tapped the desk.
"These are your Guild IDs. You're now officially Latent Rank mercenaries bottom of the ladder, but that just means you've got room to grow."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "How many rungs are there on this ladder?"
Nina grinned. "Six: Latent, Initiate, Sanctified, Primarch, Exalted, and Primordius. You wanna climb? Take promotional missions. High rank means better pay, prestige, even noble contracts if you're lucky."
"That... sounds kind of awesome," Matthew said, imagining himself in shining armor slaying a dragon.
"But for now," Nina continued, "you can start small. Also, since you're registered, you're allowed to sell spoils through us."
"Good, because our bags are stuffed," Leo said, slinging his pack onto the counter with a heavy thump.
They laid out their trophies: pelts of forest crawlers, venom glands of tunnel spiders, fur of Skyhopper, and the prized fur and antlers of the Thornhart.
Nina's eyes widened. "You're joking... A Thornhart? That's a noble-tier beast! You two took this down yourselves?"
Matthew puffed out his chest. "I wrestled it. In the woods. With one arm."
Leo rolled his eyes. "He tripped into it. Got lucky."
"Hey, a win's a win!"
Nina chuckled, then called for an appraiser. After a tense few minutes of weighing, inspecting, and noting the rarities, the clerk returned and handed them a leather pouch.
Inside were gold coins.
"three hundred Gallion," Nina said. "You're both either incredibly lucky... or suicidal."
"We'll take lucky," Leo said, half-joking as he pocketed the pouch.
As they left the guild, the air outside felt lighter. Mercenaries glanced their way again, this time not with curiosity but respect.
"People are staring again," Leo whispered.
"Let 'em," Matthew grinned. "Next time, I'll bring down two Thornharts."
Leo groaned. "And I'll bring the stretcher."
The two walked off into the dusk, their new IDs clinking against their chests. The smell of grilled meat and warm bread filled the air as they scouted for an inn to rest