From Real to Realm

Even as they walked together, the dynamic of the party only deepened.

She was, in fact, heading back the way she came. The guildhall was in the opposite direction of the smithing district she was heading to.

Even after admitting being curious about the lifestyle, Cyrus was still trying to convince her even more.

“You gotta be smart. That alone reduces a whole bunch of risk,” he said with a big smile. “It also helps when you got a healer as good as Zennia.”

Zennia rolled her eyes before butting in. “Well I have you to thank for that. I got the majority of my experience from having to save you. Maybe if you were more tactful in your decisions, I wouldn’t be drained after every delve.”

Dolf let out a hearty laugh while Irina couldn’t help shaking her head. Despite the jab, everyone was smiling. It was all harmless bickering, a true underlying loyalty hidden beneath the surface.

“Both of you are technically right,” Irina said, smiling. “Zennia is an excellent healer. And Cyrus? You are the main reason for that.”

Zennia practically glowed with the praise from Irina.

“So, let’s say I do end up wanting to join. What’s the first step?” Val asked.

There was a pause in the group, like they were daring someone else to take the helm. After a few brief seconds Irina finally spoke up.

“Well, most people choose a combat type when they’re around 16 years old.” She tapped her chin. “You said you were sick though, did you choose one before you got sick?”

Val shook her head. “No, I’ve never considered fighting as a career until more recently, after fighting my way back to good health.”

Irina continued to tap her chin. “Well, you need a combat type to gain levels. Until then, all you can really do is spar or test things on practice dummies.”

“So if I choose a combat type right now then I’d be able to gain levels?” Val asked.

“Don’t!” Cyrus yelled.

Zennia and Dolf had spun toward her with worried expressions. Irina had also reached up, grabbing Val’s arm.

“If you choose a combat type, you’re locked in. There’s no changing it afterwards.”

Their reactions made more sense now. Had she just chosen what sounded interesting, Val could have screwed herself into a type she didn’t like or want.

“Okay… that was almost bad,” Val chuckled.

“Yeah, you would’ve been stuck with what you chose,” Zennia said. “I’ve seen a few new adventurers make the same mistake. It can be costly.”

Irina nodded. “It’s alright though. We were able to stop you and that’s what matters most.”

I almost fucked up, big time.

With a calming breath, Irina continued. “After you choose your type you start off at level one. You also get a minor bump to the attributes most closely aligned with your chosen type.”

Cyrus cut in, grinning widely. “My strength got bumped to a C when I started.”

“That’s true, but getting that big of a bump isn’t normal. Cyrus was already well built before beginning his adventuring career,” Dolf said.

“Exactly,” Irina said. “It’s not normal, but the system does take things like that into consideration.”

“Alright, so I get those bumps in stats. What comes next?” Val asked.

“Well, you train, fight, and grow,” Irina said. “Over time, you’ll learn new techniques to complement your style, and gain traits to improve adaptability in combat.”

Zennia slowed down in step with Val. “You have three milestones so to speak, level five, ten, and twenty.”

Val tried to keep her focus on Zennia’s face—not her chest. “What happens at each of those levels?”

Irina cut back in. “By level five, you’ve earned all your guaranteed attribute increases.”

“At level ten you get your archetype!” Cyrus said, exploding with excitement.

Irina glared at Cyrus. “By the time you reach level twenty, it’s assumed you understand your class. Then you begin working towards mastering it.”

“What’s the maximum level?” Val asked.

The group looked between themselves.

“Level forty is the maximum, but it’s rare for someone to reach that level,” Irina said. “If I’m not mistaken, it requires a life of almost constant delving.”

“She’s right,” Zennia said. “The higher your level, the deeper you need to go. It’s the only way to keep gaining levels at a reliable pace.”

“But the deeper you go though… the deadlier it gets,” Dolf said, somberly.

Val could feel the entire tone shift. She could tell something unspoken lingered behind their silence, but wasn’t sure if she should press further.

What could cause this kind of reaction?

“So, first major goal is getting to level ten, right? To unlock my archetype?” Val asked, trying to change the subject.

Irina at least seemed happy for the change. “Yes and no.”

“Staying alive is your main goal,” Dolf cut in.

“Correct,” Irina said. “Then you work your way up to level ten.”

Staying alive as her main goal sounded like a given. “Does the system give me an archetype when I hit level ten?”

Irina shook her head. “The guild does.”

Val furrowed her brow. “How does that work? They don’t control the system.”

Val knew from first-hand experience that they didn’t. Qhemeria herself admitted to having a hand in designing the system.

How do they choose archetypes then?

Irina shrugged. “Zennia?”

Zennia slid up next to Val. “The guild chooses your archetype based on something they call ‘The Fivefold Codex’.”

Val tilted her head. “Sounds fancy, what is it?”

Dolf snorted. “It’s the guild’s way to keep control.”

Both Zennia and Irina glared at him.

“Dolf, please. Let me explain this first, then you can say your piece.”

Dolf rolled his eyes but waved her on.

“Anyway, they pick your archetype first. Then they take you to a room with some weird contraption to sync it with the system.”

Val shook her head in disbelief. “You’re telling me they just tell the system what to do? How does that even work?”

Irina chimed in. “No one but the highest members of the guild know. And even then, I don’t think they even know how it works completely.”

“I’m telling you, they just care about control,” Dolf cut in. “Why else would they continue to use an old system created centuries ago?”

Zennia glared at him. “Control keeps people safe. Without structure, more people would get themselves killed.”

“Regardless,” Irina cut in. “When you reach that point, they review your files when deciding where you fit. Delve records, statistics, combat style, all of that goes into their decision on what your archetype should be.”

“What about each of you?” Val asked. “Do you have your archetypes yet?”

“Not all of us,” Cyrus said, placing a hand on Irina’s shoulder.

Irina smiled, looking up at Cyrus. “I’m only level ten, just recently. I haven’t had a meeting to see which archetype they think I fit.”

“I’m level fifteen, started off as tank,” Cyrus said, smiling. “The guild decided I fit the Thornplate archetype. I take damage and give it right back.”

Before Val could ask anything, Zennia cut in.

“Not all of that damage is absorbed though, Cyrus. I still have to heal what gets through your defenses.”

He shrugged. “I need to be in their faces, taking the hits to protect all of you though.”

Then he grinned mischievously. “If I didn’t, they’d dirty that pretty robe of yours, wouldn’t they?”

“You shush about my robe, Cyrus,” Zennia scolded.

“Alright, children—no fighting,” Irina cut in. “Yes, Cyrus can be a bit much in battle. However, he’s right. If he didn’t jump into the fray like he does, then we would be worse off most times.”

“Keeping your robe in good condition is a bragging point for him. Shows he’s doing a good job. But the fact that he’s not dead means you’ve done a good job too, Zennia.”

Zennia pinched the bridge of her nose, then sighed.

“I suppose you’re right. Healing him has helped bump me up considerably,” she said, hiding a proud smile. “I’m level sixteen thanks at least partially to him.”

She turned to Val. “The guild labeled me a Restorationist and I tend to agree with their decision.”

“I’ve got my reservations about the codex—but it works. Sometimes,” Dolf said.

Val could tell he was talking about Zennia’s archetype, and not likely his own.

“I am level fourteen,” he continued, “and the guild forced me into their ‘Tempo Fighter’ archetype.”

Dolf clearly didn’t like the guild deciding who fit what archetype. She could understand somewhat, being forced into a mold didn’t appeal to her either. If she wanted to be an adventurer one day though, then she’d likely have to deal with it anyways.

“Is it common for everyone to choose a combat type?” Val asked. “Or only people wanting to fight for a living?”

“Not at all,” Irina started, raising a finger. “Most citizens don’t have any class at all. Adventurers, guards, and military all have them though, for obvious reasons.”

“However, there are some skilled laborers who may earn Learned Techniques to assist with their crafts—but no class type or archetype.”

Learned techniques?

Val sighed, then chuckled. “Alright, what are Learned Techniques?”

Zennia giggled, sidestepping a stall.

“Learned Techniques cover a wide array of moves and capabilities. It could be considered what some would call their ‘ace’ in combat.”

She motioned to Val.

“Imagine you come up with a unique move, beyond a normal attack. That could show up as a learned technique. Then, as you continue to use it and train with it, you’ll get even better at it. More precise, more lethal.”

Val easily followed along to that explanation. It sounded like special moves, something she could rely on in a bad situation to give her the upper hand.

“Is there a limit to how many you can learn?” she asked.

Both Irina and Zennia shrugged.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Irina said. “I don’t know of anyone who’s ever hit a maximum number of learned techniques.”

Valnarei suddenly bumped into Cyrus again, who had stopped walking. When she looked up at him he stepped to the side, opening up the view in front of her.

“There it is,” he said. “Phylandair’s guildhall headquarters.”

Standing in the middle of the square was a massive building.

A tall black wrought iron fence wrapped around the grounds. A thick hedge pressed up against it, forming a solid boundary.

Val stood at the mouth of the alley, absorbing the view.

At least a hundred feet of empty space stretched between her and the front gate. With no other buildings nearby, the guildhall dominated the surroundings. Deep gray stone stood against a beautiful blue sky.

But that wasn’t what drew her eye.

Purple banners flowed in the breeze, flanking the entrance to the hall. Golden embroidery shimmered in the sunlight. Twin crests marked each one—one familiar to Val, the other unknown.

Cyrus bent down, chuckling. “You good Valnarei?”

Val blinked, taking her eyes off the hall for a moment. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m good.”

She looked again, smile tugging at her lips. “A pretty unique view.”

The group gave Val a moment before they all started approaching the fence.

A small structure sat at the end of the fence, built from the same gray stone. Based on the armed figures around it, Val assumed it had to be a guard house. However, as they got closer, Val noticed the guards didn’t look like the city guards.

“Are the guards here employed by the city?” she asked.

“Nope,” Irina said. “They are employed by the guild specifically. Each one is a high ranked adventurer.”

She leaned in close, whispering. “You do not want to get on their bad side. They will ruin your day.”

Val could only imagine what level they were. Their gear, when compared to the city guard, was a much higher quality. But they also didn’t have any uniformity to what they wore either.

“Why aren’t they all wearing the same gear?” Val asked.

Dolf tapped her hip, then pointed. “See the purple badges on their armor?”

Val looked, spotting the badges quickly. Each guard wore one, though in different spots. It was the same unknown crest from the large purple banners. No matter where they pinned the badge, it was always easily identifiable.

Dolf could see the recognition in Val’s eyes.

“That’s how you know if they’re the guards or not.”

As they got closer the guards acknowledged their approach. Expressions of recognition crossed their faces, likely since she was with Cyrus and his group.

Even from a distance the hedge and fence had looked large. However, being this close forced Val to see just how large. The fence itself had to be at least eight feet in height, with twisted bars as thick as her arm. The hedge itself was thick, preventing any kind of peering from outside. It grew another few feet taller than the fence, making sneaking in a challenge most wouldn’t attempt.

The guildhall was large even from a distance. However, up close like this?

Val had to crane her neck just to look at the banners flowing in the breeze. She stumbled when her foot hit the bottom step of the portico leading to the front door.

“Careful now,” Cyrus warned. “Can’t have you getting hurt already.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t be worse than a skinned knee. I’m not that fragile.”

They just chuckled at her as they ascended the rest of the stairs. At the top were multiple thick columns that supported the outcropped roof.

But there was the door.

Large mahogany doors drew in her gaze. They were bigger than any doors she’d seen so far—too big for an average person. Iron bands riddled with rivets reinforced the door.

They probably weigh a ton…

Cyrus gripped the iron handle, turning to her. “Once you walk through these doors, you’ll never want to go back.” He grinned. “Ready?”

Val gulped, nerves getting to her. “Yeah—let’s do this.”

The door creaked as Cyrus pushed it open.

Val was given the lead. No one walked inside until she did—and what a view.

The outside was intimidating. The inside though?

Val was frozen. She craned her neck to follow along the multitude of balconies encircling the room. One, two, three, on they went. She didn’t realize her body had started turning, trying to keep up with her head.

Cyrus snorted. “Feeling a little speechless, ain’t ya?”

Val nodded slowly. “I knew it had to be big inside… but wow.”

She looked around the main lobby.

Irina leaned in, whispering to Cyrus. “Poor thing might be broke.”

Val rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what I expected—it’s just so much to take in.”

The walls were still the same deep gray stone. However, deep red mahogany was layered throughout the interior. The floor, support beams, desks, tables—it was all wood. All of the chandeliers and railings were golden. Even the rivets and bands on the support beams looked like they were made of gold.

“I think I see steam comin’ out of her ears,” Cyrus jibbed.

“S—shut up,” Val jabbed back.

Val was beginning to see the theme—purple and gold. It was everywhere now. The banners out front, the purple hued wood and metal accents. Even the people behind the desks were wearing purple and gold.

Almost feels regal in a way.

She walked up to the group, still trying to calm her nerves.

“It’s hard to believe I never stumbled upon this place. It’s massive.”

Zennia smiled. “Well, even if the city was built around the dungeon, not everyone has a need to go inside. Only those with a desire to become adventurers need to come here.”

She pointed toward a desk on the left side of the room.

“The average citizen may go their entire life without seeing this guildhall. However, sometimes they do come in to make requests.”

Val saw a small line of people in normal everyday clothing. An older man was speaking to a cute girl in a uniform. Her smile was warm and welcoming.

“Adventurers are more widely seen meandering about. Most citizens have no reason to visit, unless they require our aid,” came an unknown masculine voice. “Is this your first time visiting?”

The group turned toward the new voice. Recognition flickered across Cyrus and his group’s eyes.

A tall elvish man was standing there in an exquisite outfit matching the color theme. It looked like soft felt, perfectly creased right where it was needed. His head was held high, black hair slicked back, small round glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. Val noticed his posture, hands behind his back, chest pushed forward, dignified, authoritative.

“It is,” Val said, not shirking from his presence. “I’m potentially interested in becoming an adventurer.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Val could see the group’s demeanor had changed drastically. They were stiff, less relaxed. There wasn’t fear in their eyes, something more akin to subdued respect.

“A young budding adventurer you say? Has someone briefed you on our standards, regulations, and what is expected of you?” he asked.

His eyes were scanning the group behind Val.

“We have covered some of it. Trying to let her decide on her own before giving her the full introduction,” Zennia offered quickly. “We just wanted to make sure she wanted it before doing so.”

“Good. Less confusion in the beginning means a lesser chance of… undesirable outcomes,” he said, holding Val’s gaze. “Good luck.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels, walking away briskly.

He paid no one else any mind as he made his way across the lobby floor. Adventurers and employees alike yielded for him as he was able to glide through the sea of people. With a practiced stride, he slipped through a nearby door, leaving the heavy air behind.

As soon as he was through the door, everyone released a breath they had been holding. Even as they sagged with relief, Val was holding back a grin.

“Alright—story time,” Val said, smirking. “Who the hell was that? And why did you all become stiff around him?”

“That was guild master, Theoden Ianmys Xyrgwyn,” Zennia said. “It’s rare for him to be walking through the lobby like that.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Something had to,” Irina cut in. “I’ve only seen him twice.”

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, he doesn’t usually socialize with normal adventurers.”

He turned to Val. “Do you know him, Valnarei? It’s odd he’d take the time to speak directly to us, much less you.”

Val shrugged with a smirk. “No clue who he is, but someone needs to remove the stick up his ass.”

The whole group froze, eyes wide.

The girls stiffened drastically. Irina was turning red, hair whipping around as she made sure no one heard the comment. Zennia was sighing into her palm.

Dolf and Cyrus on the other hand burst out laughing. Multiple people turned their attention to them as the two struggled to keep it under control.

“Valnarei, you can’t say something like that,” Zennia huffed. “What if he hears you somehow? Don’t be stupid!”

Val was laughing along with the guys, wiping a tear away. “Ah, who cares.”

She looked between them… at the room… and down at her hands.

“I think I’m sold, so what’s next?”

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