Chapter 14: Mercenary Guild


    As they continued through the bustling streets, Ezren turned to Tobin. "Is there a guild in town?"


    Tobin nodded, his pace steady as they weaved through the crowd. "Yeah, we''ve got a Mercenary Guild here. It’s where folks go to hire swords for protection, escort caravans, or handle dangerous tasks. If you’re lookin'' for work or need some muscle, that’s the place to check out."


    Ezren’s thoughts raced. Mercenary guilds were centralized hubs for hiring skilled warriors, providing structured environments for finding employment and taking on jobs. He knew it could be useful, not just for work, but to gather intel on the town and the surrounding area.


    “How does one join the Mercenary Guild here?” Ezren asked as they navigated the busy streets.


    Tobin scratched his head, thoughtful. “Joining''s easy enough. You head to the guildhall, fill out some forms, pay a membership fee. But they’ll probably want to see what you''re made of. A little test, maybe. After that, you’ll be bound by their rules. They’ll give you jobs and assignments. You might get some better pay, and if you show some skill, you’ll have access to better gigs.”


    Ezren considered the idea. "Think they’ll be interested in someone like me?"


    Tobin looked him over, the skepticism clear in his eyes. “Could be. You’ve got the right... look about you. Could be a good way to earn some coin, especially if you know how to handle yourself.”


    Ezren gave a curt nod, the thought of the guild weighing in his mind. There could be value in joining, both for work and for gathering information.


    Tobin led him to the outskirts of town, toward the Mercenary Guild. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the town—a fortress-like structure repurposed from a former barracks. Its high stone walls were reinforced with wooden watchtowers and a sturdy palisade fence. Above the entrance, a large iron sigil of a wolf’s fang hung, marking it as the home of hardened fighters for hire. The smell of sweat, leather, and steel seemed to emanate from the very walls.


    Ezren entered The Iron Fang Guild’s dimly lit hall, the air thick with smoke and the scent of old wood. A grizzled man sat behind a sturdy desk, his face marked by a scar running down his left cheek. He looked up as Ezren approached, his eyes hard and piercing.


    "Looking to join?" The guildmaster''s voice was rough, like gravel grinding beneath a boot.


    Ezren met his gaze. "Yes. I’m interested in becoming a member of the Mercenary Guild."


    The guildmaster''s eyes narrowed as he took in Ezren’s appearance—the dirt-streaked robes and the faint, unsettling aura that seemed to cling to him. His voice was a low growl. “Joining, huh? You sure you walked through the right door? You look more like you crawled out of a ditch than a battlefield.”


    Ezren stood unfazed, his gaze unbroken. “Appearances can be deceiving. I’m here to join, not to be coddled.”


    The guildmaster snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Plenty of folk come in here with more bark than bite. But if you’ve got the coin and the steel to back it up, we might have room for you. Got any experience, or you just lookin’ to get yourself killed?”


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    “Experience enough,” Ezren replied coolly. “And I can handle myself. If you’ve got a test, I’ll take it.”


    The guildmaster’s lips twitched—half smirk, half sneer. “Cocky. I’ll give you that. Alright, if you’re dead set on it, we’ve got a trial. Prove you’re worth more than the dirt on your boots, and we’ll talk membership.”


    He pulled out a thick, leather-bound ledger from beneath the counter and flipped through the worn pages with a practiced hand. His finger stopped on a page marked with fresh ink.


    “Three contracts up for grabs,” he said, sliding the ledger across the counter. "Take your pick."


    Ezren skimmed the entries:


    Goblin Scouting: Reports of goblins raiding livestock near the northern woods. Request to assess their numbers and, if possible, thin them out.


    Herb Gathering: Collection of medicinal herbs from the southern forest. Locals are too scared to go near, what with rumors of plague still hanging over the area.


    Bounty: A wanted man named Garret Hask. Suspected of theft and assault. Last seen heading toward the marshes. Reward higher than the rest.


    Ezren’s finger hovered over the last contract for a moment before sliding back to the first. “I’ll take the goblin scouting. Shouldn’t be difficult.”


    The guildmaster grunted. “Goblins, huh? Figured you’d go for something easier, but I suppose you’re out to prove yourself.” He scratched at his scarred cheek. “Fine. Payment depends on what you bring back—scalps, ears, or even heads if you’re feeling ambitious. But we’ll need a proper report on their numbers and locations. Think you can handle that?”


    Ezren nodded. “Consider it done.”


    The guildmaster’s hard expression softened slightly, a glint of interest sparking in his eyes. “We’ll see.”


    Ezren turned to Tobin, who had been waiting nearby, and called out, “Tobin, I’ll need you to take me to the cloth market. I’m in need of new clothes.”


    Tobin raised an eyebrow at Ezren’s state—dirt-streaked robes, scuffed boots, and a general look that could easily fool anyone into thinking he was a beggar. But instead of commenting, he simply nodded and led the way.


    They soon arrived at a small but bustling market near the town square. Several clothiers had set up booths, calling out their wares to the crowds. The air smelled of fresh linen, and the sound of haggling echoed in the distance.


    Ezren stepped into one of the shops, where bolts of fabric in various colors and textures lined the walls. He picked out a set of sturdy cotton tunics, roughspun trousers, a pair of comfortable shorts, a simple cloak, and undergarments. He set them on the counter, where the shopkeeper—a thin woman with glasses perched on the edge of her nose—gave him a quick, discerning look.


    “Three sets of tunics, pants, shorts, and undergarments, plus a cloak,” she said, her voice crisp and businesslike. “That’ll be 7 silver for the lot.”


    Ezren didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a small pouch and handed her 7 silver coins. “Do you have any shops nearby that sell better quality cloth or armor?”


    The shopkeeper nodded curtly. “You’ll find something better near the armorer, just past the church. Don’t expect much for your coin, though.”


    Ezren took the bundle of clothes and turned to Tobin. "Lead me to an inn with a bath. I need to clean up."


    Tobin nodded, tucking the bundle under his arm as they made their way down the street. “There’s a good place a couple blocks down—The Rusty Lantern. It’s got a shared bathhouse. The price’s usually 2 silver for a room with access to the bath, but sometimes they lower it if the place is busy.”


    As they walked, Tobin pointed out various landmarks. “The market’s just up ahead, the church is beyond the smith’s shop, and if you’re looking for a drink, there’s a tavern by the square.”


    They eventually reached The Rusty Lantern, a modest but well-kept building with a flickering lantern hanging above the entrance. The sign swayed gently in the wind, and the warm light from inside contrasted sharply with the cool breeze outside.


    Ezren then pulled out 2 silver, handing them to Tobin. “For your trouble. Thanks for the help.”


    Tobin blinked in surprise as he accepted the coins. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’ll take it.” He grinned, tucking the silver into his pouch. “Appreciate it, Ezren. I’ll be around if you need anything.”


    Tobin gave a brief nod, then disappeared into the busy streets.


    Ezren gave a half-smile before turning to enter the inn. The door creaked open, and the warmth of the room flooded over him, a sharp contrast to the chill of the evening air.