As was the norm in a modern medieval fantasy world, the adventurer ranking system served as both a ladder and a gatekeeper. Every adventurer started at the bottom—G-rank—and climbed their way up, earning letters the way blacksmiths earned calluses. From G to S, each rank was a testament to skill, strength, and, perhaps more significantly, a little political finesse.
For G-rankers like Nick and Ray, they were glorified temp workers. The quest board held only modest opportunities—basic training, tasks funded by the city, and the occasional mundane chore that most seasoned adventurers wouldn’t touch.
F-rank and beyond opened the world of combat, and by E-rank an adventurer was deemed reliable enough to participate in larger-scale raids. Anything above E-rank held whispers of great danger, while ranks beyond that turned names into legends, with an adventurer’s reputation often enough to open doors—or close them.
Nick and Ray approached the quest board, eyes sweeping over the scattered scraps of paper detailing the city’s current needs:
- G-Rank Quests:
- Train at the Fighter’s Guild.
- Train at the Thieves’ Guild.
- Train at the Arcanist’s Guild.
- Train at the Archer’s Guild.
- Guard Duty in Lower Market.
- Assist with Unloading Goods.
- …
- F-Rank Quests:
- Gather Medicinal Herbs.
- Rat Extermination in Storage District.
- Investigate Vampire Sighting.
- …
- E-Rank Quests:
- Assist in Border Patrol.
- Escort the Ferry.
- …
- D-Rank Quests:
- Discover the Whereabouts of Missing Expedition to the Voskeg Mountains.
There were a handful of C-rank and higher quests available as well, but they were hardly worth looking at for their current ranks.
“So they have basic training quests,” Nick observed while staring at the G-rank quest list. “I wonder who pays for that…”
He leaned a little closer and examined the description on the tattered page:
Train at the Fighter’s Guild
- Description: Basic training for all starting adventurers in need of skills, knowledge, and/or basic stamina.
- Customer: Duke Jantzen Rovar
- Reward: 1 silver coin per 4 hours.
- Qualifications: G-rank.
“The duke… so its government-subsidized training, is it?”
Since they would be visiting the Fighter’s Guild for basic training now and then, they would pick up this quest before going. If they would be training anyway, then they might as well get paid for it.
But that wasn’t why they were here today.
“What do you think?” Nick asked, glancing at Ray.
Ray’s finger traced over a few of the G-rank quests before stopping on one. “How about… guard duty? Says it’s a lower market shift. That’s pretty close to the inn, so we can head straight there when we’re done.”
He considered it with a faint smile. “Not a bad idea, actually. There’re no guarantees, of course, but it could be a good way to start making connections. People who hire guards usually have something worth protecting. Even if that ‘something’ has no value to us, the knowledge that it exists is a starting point, if nothing else.”
She nodded. “Then that’s the one.”
Nick stepped forward and retrieved the quest from the board. “Guard duty it is. Let’s see what the lower market has to offer.”
When they arrived at the lower market, the bustling energy of the area immediately hit them. Stalls lined the streets, each one filled with a different type of good—everything from hand-forged tools to spices that filled the air with exotic aromas. Nick’s gaze swept over the crowd until it settled on a wiry man with a scruffy beard and keen eyes overseeing a spice stall. He carried himself with the air of someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense, his expression set in a permanent scowl as he watched his customers and passersby alike.
“Garin?” Nick called as they approached, double-checking the name and description on their quest sheet.
The man turned, sizing them up with a critical eye before giving a gruff nod. “Yeah, that’s me. You here for the guard shift?” His voice was low and a bit rough around the edges, matching his demeanor.
“That’s right,” Nick replied. “Name’s Nick and this is Ray. Anything in particular we should keep an eye on?”
Garin’s gaze flickered toward a nearby stall, a faint scowl deepening on his face. “Lately? We’ve had more… incidents,” he muttered. “Between pickpockets and troublemakers, things get rowdy. Not to mention the thieves who think they can wander through and swipe whatever they like.” He crossed his arms, shooting a glare at a couple of loitering youths.
“The usual, then,” Nick observed.
“Something like that,” the merchant muttered.
As Nick and Ray settled into their positions around Garin’s spice stall, the flow of the lower market continued in a busy, rhythmic pulse. The wiry merchant greeted customers with a clipped efficiency, his glare settling on any stranger who lingered too close to his stock.
“Watch for any pickpockets,” he repeated, squinting in the sunlight. “And don’t expect any thanks if you catch one. You’re here to make sure I’m not robbed blind. That’s it.”
As Nick scanned the crowd, he couldn’t help but feel a chill as he spotted a slave stall a little further down the market row. Chained beastkin stood on display, their eyes downcast, shoulders slumped in defeat. People moved past with a mixture of discomfort and indifference, sparing only the briefest glances. But one figure lingered longer than the others—a tall, distressingly overweight man in elaborate priestly robes emblazoned with symbols of strength.
The man inspected the slaves with a calculating eye.
Ray’s gaze followed Nick’s. “Is he… buying them?”
“Seems like it,” he replied, his voice low. “He doesn’t exactly look sympathetic, either.”
They watched as the priest moved from one slave to another, finally pausing before a young catgirl. Her wrists were bound, and her ears were flattened against her head as she shivered under the priest’s scrutiny. He spoke a few words to the merchant, who gave a curt nod and moved to release her from the display. The priest tossed a small coin pouch to the merchant, who pocketed it without a second glance.
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like him.”
Nick nodded. “Neither do I but let’s focus on our job for now.”
At that moment, movement at the edge of the crowd caught his eye. A hooded figure slipped between the stalls, her motions smooth and fluid, quick fingers brushing against the hem of the priest’s robes before darting away.
Nobody except Nick and Ray seemed to notice her.
She was young, perhaps in her late teens, with an air of confidence and agility that made her almost invisible among the throngs of people. In the brief moment she turned, Nick saw her face—a flash of green eyes and a knowing smirk.
“And there’s our pickpocket,” he murmured to Ray. “Quick, quiet, and not exactly subtle…”
“You think we should stop her?”
He shook his head. “Only if she makes a move on Garin. Our job is to watch his stall. Besides, it’s the smallest form of justice for that asshole buying that poor girl.”
The hooded girl, as if aware of their attention, cast a glance their way. Her smirk grew into a grin, and in a deliberate motion, she lifted her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Then, just as quickly, she slipped back into the crowd, disappearing with practiced ease.
Ray giggled. “I like her. Think we’ll see her again?”
“Maybe,” Nick replied. “Something tells me she has more than a few tricks up her sleeve.”
Their attention was pulled back to Garin as he huffed under his breath, watching the priest lead his new slave—still visibly trembling—through the crowd. “Lord Jantzen Rovar, the Duke’s Son and a Priest of Strength. A nasty piece of work, if I ever saw one,” he muttered, casting a wary glance toward Nick and Ray. “You didn’t hear that from me, but it’s no secret. That boy isn’t kind to his purchases.”
Nick’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening.
“A priest, you say? Do those of the faith usually support slavery?”
Garin raised an eyebrow. “Is that some kind of trick question? Were you sent by the inquisitors to make me confess my sins?”
“…What?”
“I won’t be tricked!”
The spice merchant’s expression was resolute, signaling that he had said enough.
Nick blinked, holding back a wry smile. Garin had keen eyes.
‘Of all the possible roles, he imagined me as an ‘inquisitor’?’
Somehow, the merchant recognized the type of person he was. Of all the roles he could fill, Nick knew that something like an ‘inquisitor’ was perhaps the most likely.
Minutes passed as they continued their vigil, Nick keeping an eye on Garin’s goods, Ray scanning the crowd with quiet alertness. From time to time, he thought he glimpsed the hooded thief—though each time he looked again, she was gone, leaving him wondering if she was deliberately toying with them.
After what felt like hours, the sun began to sink low, casting a warm, golden light over the market. Garin signaled to them with a brusque nod. “Shift’s over. No trouble on my end. I left the payment with the guild, and I’ll see to it you get credit for the job.”
“Much appreciated,” Nick replied.
But as they turned to leave, Ray nudged him, her gaze locked on a figure at the far end of the square. There, the hooded girl stood, watching them with a smirk before ducking into an alley. Her grin was too bold as if she knew the labyrinthine alleyways better than any city map could show. A silent invitation hung in the air, daring them to follow.
“Should we go?” Ray asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
Nick considered it, weighing their options. They had completed their quest without issue, and now, with the mystery of the girl—and the unsettling sight of the Duke’s son—lingering in his mind, he found himself itching to understand more about the dark side of Cairel.
“She seems to be interested in us, too,” he said quietly. “Let’s see if she makes contact.”
With a final glance around the marketplace, they made their way toward the alleyway where the hooded girl disappeared. Nick’s man ran through the possibilities. She could be an informant, a nuisance, or even a key to the connections they would need to survive here.
Meanwhile, Ray’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, her attention drawn in by the hooded girl’s audacity alone.
As they stepped into the dim alley, they were immediately greeted by a shifting shadow at the far end, flitting between beams of fading sunlight. The figure, agile and poised, moved with the precision of someone completely at home in dark pathways. When she emerged fully into view, the hooded girl leaned casually against a stone wall, her emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“Decided to take me up on the invitation, did you?” Her voice was light, with an undercurrent of challenge. She looked them both over, eyes sharp, lingering on the way Nick and Ray positioned themselves. “Curiosity might get the better of you two yet.”
Nick gave a half-smile. “We’re new around here. Just thought we’d follow a friendly face.”
She gave a low chuckle. “Friendly? That’s not usually what people call me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, picking up on the confidence with which she spoke and the easy way she held her ground despite being outnumbered. “Alright, then. What do people usually call you?”
She shrugged, her smile widening into a mischievous grin. “Lila. That’s all you need to know.” She tilted her head, her gaze darting between them. “I’ve seen your type before. Adventurers, full of ideals, maybe a dash of moral superiority… but here’s the thing. This city isn’t kind to ideals.”
Ray scoffed. “And what do you know about this city that we don’t?”
Nick resisted the urge to cover his face with his palm.
Lila’s gaze sharpened. “More than I’ll be sharing today. But if you two are sticking around, you’ll find out soon enough. Cairel doesn’t care about right or wrong—just power and who’s got it.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Tell me… why would a couple of newcomers care about the slave market? Or take guard duty for a nobody merchant like Garin?”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we’re just here for the experience. Or maybe we’re just as jaded as the next guy.”
Her smirk faded for a split second, and something calculating flashed in her eyes. She studied him for a long moment, then glanced at Ray. “You don’t strike me as typical adventurers. Something tells me you’re a different kind of ‘new’. Most people don’t watch men like Jantzen Rovar with such…” she searched for the word, “…conviction.”
“We like to know who’s who in town, is all,” Nick replied. “Every place has its fair share of… politics.”
“Politics,” she repeated, almost laughing. “You make it sound so formal. Around here, it’s just survival. The priests, the nobles, the merchants—they all take a piece. Everyone else fights for the scraps.”
Ray half-raised a hand. “And you? Which piece do you take?”
Lila’s grin returned, sly and knowing. “I’m not interested in pieces. I’m interested in a new game altogether.” She pushed off the wall, her gaze intent as she sized them up. “You wouldn’t happen to have an interest in… change, would you?” It’s rare to meet anyone who questions the way things are—especially not amongst folks who have the skills to notice me when I’m working.”
Nick felt the weight of her words and glimpsed a few of the layers beneath them. She was testing them. She wasn’t asking for loyalty or partnership—at least, not yet. But she was probing, assessing, seeing how much she could trust them. He’d seen this approach before in his past life. She was searching for allies—or at least people who wouldn’t be obstacles.
“Change can be risky business,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Especially in a place like Cairel. Takes more than a few spirited speeches to topple the way things work.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Good answer.” She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. “Maybe you’re not just here for silver and status, then.”
Without another word, she slipped back into the shadows, but not before calling over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll see you around, Nick. Ray.”
Then she was gone, her form blending seamlessly with the darkening alleyways, leaving only the faintest trace of her presence behind.
Ray glanced at Nick with a question in her eyes.
“What is it?” he asked.
“…Did we ever tell her our names?”
Nick smiled. “No, I don’t believe we did.”
Project Knightfall 