Stale ale and roasted meat, a companion since his arrival, clung to Wyva even after he had taken a bath.
He knew this scent would be a constant, but he doubted it would be accepted.
All his most important possessions were retrieved from the inn by Koa. On instinct he checked to see if anything had gone amiss.
His lodging was on the second floor, a room with two sets of bunk beds, the mattresses thin, the blankets rough. A far cry from the sprawling, silk-draped chamber he occupied in his adopted parents' estate. He was the owner of a private bath and a serene view of the meticulously manicured vineyards.
He ran a hand over the rough-hewn wooden frame of the top bunk, a faint sigh escaping him. For the sake of his goals, for the sake of the legacy he was meant to uphold, he would keep his thoughts to himself. He would adapt. He would maintain his composure. He would make this work. He began to unfasten his belt, preparing for a much-needed rest, when a sharp, insistent rap echoed on the door.
"Wyva. Downstairs. Now."
It was Koa. The voice, devoid of any warmth or pleasantries, cut through the last vestiges of Wyva's pleasant buzz. He threw a glance at the inviting, if uncomfortable, bunk bed, a silent protest. But compliance was clearly the only option. He refastened his belt and opened the door.
The upstairs hallway was long and dimly lit by flickering oil lamps. Eight individual doors, all identical, lined the corridor, four on each side. Wyva's room, he realized, was at the very end.
One of the last doors.
He frowned, a flicker of confusion. Eight rooms. That meant, at most, sixteen members if every bunk was occupied.
He had imagined a sprawling organization, a legion of Guardians. This was significantly smaller, but carried a greater weight than those helping him tidy downstairs. Had he truly misjudged the sheer number of people in the guild?
His gaze drifted to the walls.
They weren't bare.
Commemorating plaques, polished and gleaming, hung at regular intervals. Some bore the crests of distant cities, others the symbols of various guilds – thanks for services rendered, for threats averted.
They were remnants of a history, of widespread influence. And then, at the very end of the hall, dominating the space above a small, dusty table, was a wide, impressive painting. It depicted twenty people in full, unique armor, each figure distinct, armed with different weapons, their faces resolute.
Were these guild members?
Past members?
The numbers didn't match.
His mind raced, trying to reconcile the conflicting information. The grand vision, the prestigious selection, the widespread reputation of the Burning Tempest, the numerous plaques, the painting of twenty serious figures... all clashing violently with the handful of eccentrics he'd met downstairs and the small number of rooms in this hall.
He forced himself to take a slow, deliberate breath. Keep an open mind, Wyva. Don't jump to conclusions. There's always more than meets the eye. He repeated the mantra, trying to quell the rising tide of uncertainty.
"So," Koa's voice cut through his thoughts, surprisingly casual, pulling Wyva from his internal debate. "The girls from El Sharaab. Are they as attractive as the rumors say?"
Wyva blinked, thrown completely off guard by the abrupt shift in mood.
Sure there were no real expectations for conversing with Koa, but this constant questioning of the opposite gender was disarming.
"They are," Wyva said, finding his voice, though a touch less smooth than usual. He'd never had a girlfriend, too focused on his studies and his perceived destiny, but he could certainly appreciate beauty. "Very."
Koa's stern face softened for the second time since Wyva's arrival.
"Good. Good. Hope we get a mission there soon. Can't wait." He nodded, as if this was the most important piece of information he'd received all day.
Wyva frowned. "You keep asking about women. Why?"
Koa shrugged, his grey eyes, usually so cold, holding a flicker of something almost amused. "Every member of the Burning Tempest has their vice. Allegra has her bottles, Veech has his... apathy. Maico has... well, you'll see. Mine are a lot more dignified. And reproductive." He offered no further explanation, simply turning and leading the way downstairs.
The main hall downstairs was, as was everything else in the building, stained with the scent of ale, but it was remarkably clean.
The tables and chairs had been mostly cleared, pushed against the walls, leaving a wide, open space in the center. It was hard for Wyva to imagine that this very place had been a raucous, crowded bar just under twenty-four hours ago, filled with drunken patrons and Allegra dancing on tables.
Gathered in the center of the now-clear room were four people. Allegra, swaying gently side to side, a bottle still clutched in one hand, her green curls a vibrant mess. Veech, a mountain of a man, built like a tank, sat slumped on a lone crate, his arms crossed, his expression one of profound disinterest. "I wish I was on the beach right now," he muttered, without cracking a smile, his voice a low rumble.
Then there was a figure sprawled across the only remaining table, seemingly fast asleep. Wyva observed her.
She was undeniably small, even by human standards, perhaps the size of one of Veech's massive arms. Her skin had the faint greyish hue of a Hurc, but her features were more delicate, almost elven. A human-Hurc hybrid, then.
And finally, a tall, muscular man with dark hair cut in a severe crew cut and a rugged five o'clock shadow. He had a wide, almost predatory grin on his face, his green eyes glinting with amusement. This had to be Logun. The Captain.
"Ah, our next recruit hasn't found his way yet," Logun chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. Koa, standing beside Wyva, let out a short, dry chuckle in response, a shared joke passing between them that Wyva didn't understand.
Logun's grin widened as he turned to face the small assembly. "Alright, everyone! Let's introduce our newest Guardian, Wyva of El Sharaab!" He gestured grandly to Wyva, then swept his hand across the other members.
"First up, our resident spiritual guide, support specialist, and connoisseur of fine spirits, Allegra! One of three remaining original members of the Burning Tempest, and she's been with us since she was a wee twelve-year-old pup!"
"Hey!" Allegra shrieked, her swaying stopping abruptly. With surprising speed, she hurled the half-empty bottle of El Sharaab red wine at Logun's head.
Logun didn't even flinch. He simply leaned his head back a fraction of an inch, and the bottle whistled past his ear, shattering against the wall behind him. He continued as if nothing had happened.
"Next, our heavy hitter, our immovable object, our very own living siege engine, Veech! Built like a tank, hits like one, and currently our strongest member!"
"I wish I was on the beach right now," Veech grumbled, without moving a muscle or changing his expression.
Logun simply nodded, unfazed. "And then, our esteemed Vice Captain, Koa! An islander, turned full-fledged assassin, and frankly, the only reason this guild hasn't burned down or starved to death." As Logun spoke, Koa's hands moved, blurring into motion. Two wicked-looking knives seemed to materialize from thin air, appearing in his grip.
He sliced at the air with practiced, silent swipes, the blades gleaming, as Logun continued to list his importance to the guild. "He's our pest control, our maid, our guard, our alarm clock, and our designated sober friend. Honestly, how would this guild operate without the Vice Captain?"
Logun then turned his attention to the short woman still sprawled asleep on the table. Wyva observed her more closely.
Her Hurc features were undeniable, but softened, almost delicate.
Logun shot Veech a look. The big man sighed, a sound of immense resignation. He lumbered over to the table, grabbed the sleeping girl by the collar of her tunic, and shook her awake with a single, powerful jerk.
She woke with a furious snarl, slipping from Veech's grip. Her eyes, a startling red, snapped open, fixing instantly on Koa. With a guttural roar, she launched herself across the room, a tiny, enraged missile.
Koa barely had time to react. The small Hurc hybrid was upon him, a blur of flailing limbs and sharp teeth. Koa's screams echoed through the guild hall as he was beaten and mauled, his knives clattering uselessly to the floor. Allegra giggled. Veech sighed. Logun, however, simply continued, completely unperturbed.
"And that," Logun said, gesturing towards the ongoing mauling, "is Maico. She's a bit violent. And that's all."
A loud, insistent knocking suddenly reverberated through the guild hall, interrupting Koa's pained yelps and Maico's furious growls. The mauling stopped abruptly. Maico froze, her head snapping towards the door.
Logun's grin widened, a triumphant, almost mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Ah," he announced, "my recruit is here."
He swung the heavy wooden door open. The pouring rain outside seemed to follow the figure who slipped into the guild hall, a soaked red-haired teen about the same age as Wyva. His too-short clothes were plastered to his frame, dripping water onto the clean floor, and his boots squeaked with every step.
Wyva's eyes narrowed as he observed the individual, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over him. The red hair. The familiar build. It couldn't be.
"Relik?" Wyva breathed, the name escaping him before he could stop it.
The boy lifted his head slowly at the mention of his name, his eyes, a familiar shade of amber, meeting Wyva's. "Hey Wy," Relik responded with a curt nod, his voice flat.
For a moment, a wide, genuine smile broke across Wyva's face, a rush of warmth at the unexpected reunion. Then, just as quickly, both their faces twisted, first in a shared look of profound confusion, and then in a simultaneous, almost comical expression of utter disappointment.
They had known each other for years. Since Wyva's birth mother had passed away, more than ten years ago, their families had vacationed together at least three times every year on the islands. They had done business trips together, navigating the logistics of wine distribution. They had a long-lasting friendship, a bond forged over shared childhoods and familial ties, so that was never going to be the source of their disappointment.
No. The source of their disappointment was far more specific, far more absurd. They were both the children of winemakers, selected by obvious alcoholics, now inexplicably brought together in the same, chaotic guild.
"Logun, you bastard!" Relik was the first to verbalize, his voice echoing in the sudden, stunned silence of the guild hall.
Logun's wide grin didn't falter. He simply chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Ah, Relik. Always so dramatic. And you, Wyva, always so... observant."
He swept his gaze between the two boys, a glint of amusement in his green eyes. "Don't look so disappointed, lads. I promise you, your families' excellent bottles may have been a factor in your selection – gods know a good drink helps the divine judgment flow – but there are other, far more important things the gods saw in you. Things we see."
Relik's glare softened, then his shoulders slumped, his earlier defiance draining away. He looked like a child caught in a lie, his expression becoming regressive, almost defeated. The vibrant anger left him, replaced by a weary resignation that settled into his bones.
Logun's gaze lingered on Wyva.
"Wyva, for instance. You're an excellent archer, aren't you? Even without formal training, the way you move, the way you focus. We need range. We don't have enough of it. And both of you..." Logun's voice dropped, becoming serious, a rare, sober note in his tone. "Both of you have the potential to be Insinyurs. And that, my boys, is rare. Most guilds are lucky to have one competent Insinyur. If we have two, well, we can loan our services out a lot more often." He winked, a return to his usual levity.
Wyva, still reeling from the unexpected reunion and the sheer chaos of the guild, latched onto the unfamiliar word. "Insinyurs?" he asked, his voice betraying his curiosity.
Logun snapped his fingers, turning to Allegra. "Allegra! Sober up, will you? The boy has questions."
Allegra, who had been swaying gently, her eyes half-closed, blinked slowly. "Sober?" she mumbled, then sighed dramatically. "Fine. But you owe me a bottle." She raised her free hand, weaving her fingers in a complex, fluid motion. A soft, vibrant green light pulsed around her, intensifying, making her green curls glow like emeralds. The light enveloped her for a moment, and when it faded, her eyes were clear, sharp, and entirely sober.
Wyva instinctively recoiled, a gasp catching in his throat. The sudden, raw display of magic, so close, so effortless, was a stark contrast to the subtle, almost imperceptible magic of the bellmen.
"Right then," Allegra said, her voice now crisp and articulate, the slurring entirely gone. She looked at Wyva, then at Relik, her gaze assessing. She then wove her fingers again, crossing her arms at her wrists. A shimmering, translucent green dome of energy bloomed from her hands, expanding rapidly until it enveloped Relik, encasing him in a sphere of soft, protective light.
"Relik," Allegra's voice was firm, "remove your necklace."
Relik, still looking utterly defeated, reached for the ruby pendant. Wyva watched, a strange fascination overcoming his shock. He had never seen Relik without that necklace. Not once in all their years of shared vacations and business trips. It had always been there, a constant fixture. As Relik's fingers fumbled with the clasp, Wyva noticed the faint, intricate lines beginning to appear on Relik's skin, shimmering faintly beneath the surface.
The moment the ruby cleared the crown of Relik's head, a blinding flash of fire erupted from him. It consumed him in an instant, a roaring inferno of orange and red that filled the dome. Wyva gasped, his hand flying to his left ear, his fingers instinctively closing around the small, smooth gemstone earring he wore. He had never removed it. Not once.
Just as quickly as it appeared, the fire vanished, sucked back into Relik's body. He stood within the dome, now dry and smoking, the markings on his skin now vividly visible, tracing complex patterns across his torso and limbs, pulsing with a faint, amber light. He looked utterly bewildered, his eyes wide with a familiar, terrifying confusion.
Allegra, her expression calm, waved her hand, and the green dome shimmered, then dissolved.
Logun stepped forward, Logun's grin back in place, though his eyes remained sharp. "There are three primary types of Guardians, boys," he began, his voice taking on the tone of a seasoned instructor. "First, you have your Boosters. These are individuals who use their magic to enhance their already existing physical abilities. They're your tanks, your heavy hitters. Veech, here," he gestured to the massive man, who grumbled something unintelligible, "is one of the most notable Boosters in the entire continent. Built like a brick wall, hits like a mountain."
"Then you have your Priests. These are individuals who can manipulate life and energy. Healing, shielding, even a bit of mind-bending if they're particularly talented. They usually have more raw magic power than the others. Allegra, for example," he nodded to the now-sober priestess, who gave a small, dignified bow.
"And finally," Logun's gaze swept over Relik and Wyva, "you have your Insinyurs. These are the rare ones. Individuals who naturally can create elements using their very soul. Fire, wind, earth, water... it's a raw, primal power. And both of you, it seems, have the spark of an Insinyur."
Just as Logun finished, a loud, wet fart echoed through the guild hall. Maico, still sprawled on the table, stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "I'm an Insinyur," she mumbled, then promptly fell back asleep.
Logun sighed, shaking his head. "Right. Well, that's the basics. And speaking of Maico," he said, ignoring the sleeping Hurc hybrid's flatulence, "she's responsible for you, Relik. She'll be your... guide. Now, everyone, head to bed. We have an early start tomorrow."
He turned, already walking towards a back corridor. Relik stood in the middle of the guild hall, still smoking, the markings on his skin now fading, but his body still trembling from the flash of fire. He looked at Allegra, then at Veech, then at the sleeping Maico, who was now snoring softly.
He was still very naked, and now he had a new, tiny, violent… apparently flatulent guardian. His destiny, it seemed, was only getting stranger.