SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

1375  Nero

The Adventurers Guild Building.

Even from the exterior, one could see that it was a grand structure, a testament to the bravery and endeavors of those who walked its halls. The facade was constructed of weathered stone, and the entrance was framed by intricately carved wooden doors. As the morning sun filtered through the stained glass windows, the interior was bathed in a myriad of colors, casting a warm, inviting glow over the guild hall.

Inside, the guild was a hive of activity. Adventurers of all kinds occupied the space, each engaged in their own pursuits. To the left of the entrance, a group of seasoned warriors huddled around a large wooden table, their faces lit by the flickering light of a nearby hearth. They spoke in hushed tones, their conversation punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the clinking of tankards. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted from the nearby kitchen, where the guild's cook, a burly man with a perpetual scowl, worked tirelessly to feed the hungry masses.

Larion, they called him—Haunted Face Larion.

In the center of the hall stood a massive bulletin board, covered in parchments of varying sizes and conditions. Each parchment represented a quest or a bounty, offering rewards for those brave enough to take them on. A group of younger adventurers, likely on their first forays into the world, crowded around the board, their eyes wide with excitement and trepidation.

To the right, a small bar was tended by a sprightly lady with silver hair and a mischievous grin. She moved with a grace that belied her quickness, effortlessly managing the constant flow of patrons seeking a drink or a friendly conversation. Above the bar, a shelf lined with bottles of various shapes and colors caught the light, creating a dazzling display that drew the eye.

The walls of the guild were adorned with trophies and relics from countless adventures: a dragon's skull here, a tapestry depicting a great battle there. Each item told a story, a piece of history preserved within the guild's stone walls. A large fireplace dominated the far end of the hall, its roaring fire providing warmth and comfort to those gathered around it. Plush chairs and sofas were arranged in cozy clusters, inviting adventurers to sit and share their stories.

This all seemed like one big family—or a den of ruffians.

Either way, they all seemed very used to it. At the very least, there were no words of complaint.

Amidst these activities…

… The heavy wooden doors of the guild suddenly swung open with a resounding creak. A hush fell over the hall as all eyes turned towards the entrance. Standing in the doorway, framed by the bright sunlight outside, was a young person. Their figure was slender and slightly hunched, as if burdened by an invisible weight. They wore a long, dark cloak that obscured much of their form, the hood pulled up to shadow their face. Most striking of all was the mask they wore, a simple yet elegant piece of craftsmanship that covered the upper half of their face. The mask was white, adorned with intricate silver filigree that caught the light and shimmered subtly.

The young person took a hesitant step forward, their boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. The silence in the guild hall was almost palpable, the air thick with curiosity and a hint of tension. Who was this masked figure, and what business did they have at the guild?

The woman behind the bar was the first to break the silence, her voice carrying a note of welcome and intrigue. "Well now, who do we have here?" she called out, her silver eyes gleaming with interest.

The young person paused, their head turning slightly as if to take in the entire hall in one sweep. After a moment, they lowered their hood, revealing hair as dark as midnight, falling in loose waves around their shoulders. They took another step forward, and the crowd began to stir, whispers rippling through the assembly like the wind through a field of grass.

No one had ever seen this person before, and in a place such as this—where it was important to know one's coworkers in order to differentiate friends from allies—seeing a newbie, especially one as young as this person seemed, was rare.

It almost never happened.

The young person approached the bulletin board, their gaze fixed on the array of quests and bounties. They moved with a quiet grace, each step deliberate and measured. As they reached the board, they extended a hand from within the folds of their cloak. The hand was slender and pale, the fingers long and elegant. They selected a parchment from the board, examining it with a keen eye.

A burly man with a bushy beard, who had been watching the newcomer with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, finally spoke up. "What's your name, stranger? And what brings you to our guild?"

The young person turned to face the dwarf, their eyes hidden behind the mask but their expression inscrutable. They spoke in a voice that was soft yet clear, carrying an undertone of resolve. "Call me Nero" they said. "I come seeking a quest."

The simplicity of the statement hung in the air, as the guild members exchanged glances. A quest, in itself, was not unusual, but there was something about Nero's demeanor and words that made people roll their eyes or glance at each other with certain looks.

The bushy bearded man narrowed his eyes, studying Nero intently. "A quest, eh? And what makes you think you're up to the challenge? We've seen many a brave soul come through those doors, and not all of them return."

Nero met the dwarf's gaze steadily, unflinching. "I understand the risks," they replied. "But I have my reasons, and I am prepared to face whatever challenges lie ahead."

The voice proceeding from his lips was clearly masculine, but there was a certain child-like tone to it that made it seemingly androgynous.

Before the man could say any more, Nero left the place and approached the receptionist at the far corner of the room.

"Fair enough, boy. Just remember, the guild is here to support its members. You don't have to face your battles alone."

A mere inclination of the head was given in acknowledgment, a hint of gratitude in the gesture, as Nero went on to face his business.

He went to the nearest desk and placed the parchment that he chose on the table, something of a powerful glint hidden in his exposed eyes as he uttered words that showed nothing short of total resolve.

"I desire to take on the Adventurers Test."

The receptionist looked down at him, not intentionally of course. The boy was simply quite short—at least compared to most of the people that occupied the building. Even the counter seemed a bit too high for him.

Still, none of it seemed intimidating for him.

He simply stood there and waited for the response of the receptionist, who looked at him for a few seconds and asked the same question the bearded man asked him.

"What is your name, young man?"

And, just like before… he gave the name he went by.

"Nero."

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[Welcome To The Kingdom's Adventurer Arc] Nôv(el)B\\jnn

{I plan to release at least one chapter per day this month… and I hope I'm consistent in it. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate your support!}