Chapter 9: I think we should get better {Part2}
The next morning, over the same cheap porridge, Reginleif broke their routine silence. "Azazel, what is our plan? We can't just take on quests without direction. It feels like we're just doing whatever the hell comes to mind."
Azazel paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Wait, what? You don't know the plan?" He set the spoon down. "I didn't talk about it because I thought you and I were on the same page."
"What do you mean, 'same page'?"
"Like... getting a higher rank in the guild," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Copper is bottom tier. More rank means better pay, better jobs, more respect. It means stability. A foundation."
Reginleif blinked, then a slow understanding dawned on her face. "Oh. That's... actually a good plan."
"I can't believe you didn't think of this," Azazel said, a hint of exasperated amusement in his voice. "I guess you never really planned to be an adventurer."
She looked down at her bowl, her expression unreadable. "No. There were... certain paths I couldn't take in my old life. Planning for a future wasn't a luxury I had."
The admission hung in the air, another piece of her mysterious past. Azazel just nodded. "Well, you do now. Let's go get a quest that'll make the guild notice us."
---
At the guild, they bypassed the simpler notices and went straight to the receptionist. "We're looking for something to build our reputation," Azazel said. "Something that shows reliability, not just muscle."
The dog-eared girl thought for a moment, her ears twitching. "Hmm. There's one... it's not glamorous, but it's the kind of job that builds trust with the community." She slid a notice across the counter.
QUEST: Lost Pet Retrieval
Posted by: The Miller Family, West District
Our daughter's fox-cat, Ember, has fled into the Weeping Woods after a loud thunderstorm. She is heartbroken. Ember is skittish but not dangerous. Please, bring our family's companion home.
Reward: 40 Silver, a home-cooked meal, and our undying gratitude.
Azazel almost scoffed. A pet? But Reginleif was already nodding. "This is perfect," she said. "It's a test of patience, tracking, and gentle handling. The kind of work that proves you're more than a mercenary."
Azazel saw her point. Fine. We'll save a damn fox-cat.
---
The Weeping Woods were damp and dense, the canopy dripping with leftover rain. The challenges were subtle.
First,
Tracking:Azazel took the lead here. His eyes, used to scanning city streets for threats and clues, found what others would miss: a single tuft of orange fur on a thorn bush, a faint, muddy paw print near a creek bed. "This way. She's sticking to the underbrush, scared."
Second, Terrain:The path led to a steep, slick ravine crossed by a single fallen log. Reginleif assessed it. "Rotten. It won't hold us." She used a controlled gust of wind to clear the moss and stabilize it, creating a safe, if nerve-wracking, bridge.
Third, the Capture:They found Ember huddled in a hollow tree, wide-eyed and trembling. The creature was a beautiful mix of fox and cat, with a fluffy tail and intelligent, fearful eyes.
"Let me,"Reginleif whispered. Azazel hung back. She approached not with hands, but with a soft, steady tone and a slow extension of her will. A barely perceptible breeze, calm and soothing, swirled around the hollow, carrying a sense of safety. She didn't grab; she coaxed. After a tense minute, the fox-cat cautiously crept out and allowed Reginleif to scoop it into her arms, where it buried its face, shivering.
The reward wasn't just silver. The Miller family's tearful gratitude, the warm, hearty stew shared at their table, and the little girl's radiant smile as she clutched Ember—it was a different kind of currency. As they left, the girl pressed a clumsily woven friendship bracelet into Azazel's hand.
Walking back,Reginleif looked at him. "Empathy and patience aren't on the guild's ranking sheet. But they matter. They make people remember your name for the right reasons."
Here is the continuation of Chapter 9 with the delivery quest.
---
Azazel looked at the simple bracelet on his wrist, next to Pinehall's protective cord. He was building something, piece by piece. Not just a rank, but a reputation. "Yeah," he said. "I'm starting to get that."
"Now for another quest." He turned back to the guild board, his eyes scanning for something with a bit more weight. His finger landed on a notice with a merchant's guild seal.
QUEST: Timely Delivery
Posted by: Garvin the Spicer, Korvath Market
A shipment of rare Saffron Nectar must reach the apothecary in Briar's End before the new moon (2 days). I have taken ill and cannot make the journey. The road is known for opportunists.
Objective: Deliver the sealed package to Apothecary Hollis in Briar's End within 72 hours.
Reward: 100 Silver, a 20% discount at my stall for one year, and a detailed trade map of the central region.
"Here," Azazel said, tapping the notice. "Delivering a package. Time-sensitive, mentions highwaymen. It's a step up. Tests speed, route planning, and defense."
Reginleif read the details, a faint smile touching her lips. "A straight line on a map with complications. I get the feeling you're going to grind me until my bones break with this pace."
"Only if we stop moving,"Azazel replied, a competitive glint in his eye. He took the notice down. "Let's go meet the merchant."
---
Garvin the Spicer was a pale, sweating man bundled in blankets behind his market stall, which was rich with the scent of a hundred spices. He handed them a small, sturdy ironwood box, sealed with wax and magic-imbued wire. "Do not break the seal. Do not be late. The nectar loses potency rapidly after the deadline. The usual route is the habit Road, but..." He coughed wetly. "Scum have been bold lately. Use your judgment."
Their first challenge was the route. The habit Road was the fastest, but also the most obvious. Consulting their new Wayfinder's Compass and the basic map from their first quest, Reginleif pointed to a dotted line running parallel through the foothills. "The Shepherd's Path. Longer by half a day, but high ground. Fewer ambush points. We can make up time by moving fast and not fighting."
They chose the path. The second challenge was the terrain. The path was rocky and steep in places, slowing them down. On the afternoon of the second day, they found their way blocked by a recent rockslide.
"Delay,"Azazel muttered, assessing the pile of debris. It would take hours to climb over safely with the precious package.
Reginleif stepped forward."Or a shortcut." She closed her eyes, extending her hands. A focused torrent of wind shot forth, not wild, but precise. It scoured the loose scree from the top of the pile, funneling it down the slope and clearing a narrow, stable path through the center. "Don't run. Walk carefully."
They lost an hour,not half a day.
The final challenge came at dusk on the second day, just as Briar's End's lights twinkled in the valley below. The opportunists.
Three rough-looking men stepped from the tree line onto the path.They weren't organized bandits; they were desperate highwaymen, armed with cudgels and a single notched sword.
"The box,"the leader grunted. "Hand it over. We know what Garvin sends to Briar's End."
Azazel and Reginleif shared a look.No words were needed.
They were tired, they were on a clock, and they had no patience for this.
"Youshadow,"Azazel commanded calmly. The long shadows of the setting sun writhed, and inky tendrils snaked up the legs of the two thugs on the flanks, freezing them in mid-step with yelps of surprise.
The leader,momentarily stunned, charged Reginleif. She didn't bother drawing her dagger. A concussive blast of air from her palm hit him square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and dumping him, winded and groaning, into the ditch.
The whole fight lasted less than ten seconds.They left the men—one wheezing, two trapped in their own shadows—and jogged the final stretch to Briar's End as night fell.
---
Apothecary Hollis, a severe woman with keen eyes, inspected the unbroken seal under a magnifying lens. "On time. And intact. Garvin will be pleased." She paid them the silver and handed over the promised regional map—far more detailed than any they'd seen, showing hidden trails, springs, and even notations on creature habitats.
Returning to Korvath, they reported their success to the guild. The receptionist made a note in their file. "Efficient resolution of a time-sensitive delivery with environmental and hostile obstacles. Well done. Your consistent performance is being noted."
Walking back to the inn, Azazel felt the weight of the new map in his pack, the discount token in his pocket, and the satisfying fatigue in his muscles.
"Bones still intact?" he asked Reginleif.
"Barely," she said, but her tone was satisfied. "We're not just taking quests. We're solving problems. The guild sees the difference."
They were no longer just Copper-rank newcomers. They were becoming professionals.
Back at the Guttering Candle, the silence of their room was a welcome reprieve. The adrenaline of the journey had faded, leaving behind a deep, bone-tired calm. Without a word, they fell into their now-familiar routine. Reginleif checked the wrappings on Starlight before placing it carefully by the bed. Azazel set his kukri within reach and shrugged off his cloak.
There was no need for conversation. The understanding between them was built on shared dust, thwarted ambushes, and completed contracts. Azazel lay on his side of the floor, the rough boards a familiar discomfort. Reginleif settled on the edge of the narrow bed.
In the quiet dark, Azazel's mind replayed the day—the calculated choice of the path, the swift immobilization of the highwaymen, the unbroken seal. Each successful quest was a brick in the foundation they were building, a silent answer to the chapter's title. I think we should get better. And they were.
Exhaustion, earned and honest, pulled him under. For the first time since falling into this world, sleep didn't feel like a vulnerability. It felt like a reward.
End of Chapter 9