Chapter Text
Iona stood, dumbfounded, in front of the Guild's bulletin board. Are people really this stupid? She stared at a heavily decorated flyer, littered with pink flowers around the margins and flashy calligraphy. It read, in swooping magenta ink: “Want to own your own farm? Four acres with cabin are available, FREE! Help Mistria recover from the earthquake. Write to Adeline of Mistria to learn more.” Free land? That HAS to be a scam.
Word around the Capital was that the earthquake had been quite devastating in the West. So devastating, that even with all the Capital's coordinated disaster relief, even affected Ruby ranked towns had only achieved 50% recovery. Eastward, towards the Capital, the effects waned, and the damage was negligible. There had only been a bit of shaking, and the worst damage came from any unsecured dishes in a cabinet or loose knickknacks on a shelf. But Mistria... that was west wasn't it? Like way far west. Iona tried to think of the last time she'd heard of the town, but she couldn't remember.
Iona eyed the flyer closely, tapped her cheek. How long has this been here? It couldn't have been long, as she last checked the board five days ago. She had only just gotten back from her latest quest culling some of the boars in the Grove ten miles out of town. Normally, the boars stayed in the grove, but they had started wandering out onto the main road, attacking travelers and generally being a nuisance. It had seemed to be a simple affair: go to the grove, kill at least half of the swine, and then leave. It should have taken just two days, but it turned out to be a complicated mess that took a whole four days instead. The flyer had indicated that half boars needed to be slain and estimated that there were probably 2 dozen… Well there were at least fifty when Iona had arrived, and they were unexpectedly vicious. She barely got out after harvesting the tusks from her tenth kill, as one of them literally snuck up on her. Since when could boars sneak?! The Grove was deep in the Southern Woods, and fallen leaves, twigs, and other debris littered the entire forest floor. Heck, even rabbits made noise while moving through brush this thick. Something was wrong about the whole situation. Boars attacking people was heard of, but they had never really wandered out of the forest into the roadways. And the sneaking… Iona really didn’t know what to make of that.
The Boar Debacle was only the latest in Iona's misfortunes. Good paying quests were few and far between, usually reserved for the higher ranked adventurers. Any Copper quests she ended up getting were low paying or way more troublesome than had been advertised. And either way, the Guild still took their 30% base cut for Copper adventurers. She sighed. It felt like she'd never get anywhere in the Guild. At least the cut was no longer 40% like when she was still Stone rank. It took her an entire year to progress from Stone to Copper since she joined up. Most adventurers could get to Silver within one year with the right party. However, no one would let her join. She was a rather small, novice dagger-wielder, which wasn't exactly the most sought after build. But these small knives were all she was able to afford.
She looked again at the flyer. This has to be a scam, right? She thought. Why else would this flyer for literal free land still be here? Obviously, everyone else recognized that it's a scam. Yet, here she was, still staring at this obviously fake paper. She groaned and snatched it off the board.
The ebony-haired receptionist eyed Iona as she approached the front desk. “Good morning, Iona.”
“Hi, Rose.” She laid the flyer on the desk. “Any info on this one?”
Rose regarded the paper carefully. “It's exactly as it says. The baronness heir is looking for someone to take up a farm in Mistria.”
“How long has it been up?”
“Oh, this one? It arrived in the mail... let's see... last Tuesday. So, just over five days.”
“Five days?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Iona was silent for a moment, thinking deeply. “Has anyone else asked you about this offer?”
“A few, yes. But no one's taken it.”
Iona furrowed her brow. She didn't understand. This is an actual land offer and it's still unclaimed. “Why would they be giving away free land? It's weird. Seems like a scam to me.”
“It's possible,” Rose mused. “But it's Mistria, Iona. It's on the western coast. Those coastal towns are far from the Capital, and none are ranked higher than Iron. Besides,” she lowered her voice, “no one would want to go to Mistria. It's known to be cursed. None of our traders have gone there for years, even before the earthquake. Lots of misfortune befell them, plus a few deaths. All happened after they passed through that godforsaken town. Even the Merchant’s Guild doesn’t send traders there… even with the high demand for recovery goods.”
Cursed? Iona scoffed. Curses weren't real. People now hadn't believed in magic for centuries. The occasional monsters that still filled the lands are pretty horrifying, so it's no wonder that people tried anything to defend themselves. Some in remote villages still used “magical” charms to ward them off. Old habits are hard to shake. “So that's why no one has taken it up?”
“Possibly. But who knows? It could also be just because most are making a good living here in the Capital. Our Guild is the most prosperous on the continent, after all. It brings good business to the area. They couldn't possibly do as well in Mistria, of all places. There hasn't been a guild there since the warring era.”
Iona took note, again, of the dearth of weight of her coinpurse. It was barely noticeable in her pocket. Would she be able to make more tesserae in Mistria than she would here? The rumors of a curse are probably just that, rumors. But if everyone thinks that it's cursed, it might not be profitable at all... My coin purse may be light, but I'm not hungry, she decided.
She pushed the flyer back across the counter. “I think I'll pass.”
-.-.-.-
The next morning, Iona once again stood in front of the Guild bulletin board. And sure enough, there was the Mistria “free land” flyer, parading the offer in all its pink, gaudy glory.
A high-pitched voice from the right caught her attention. “Mistria? I'd hope no one is crazy enough to take up an offer in that dismal land.”
A honey-haired archer was also examining the flyer. She stood with her hands on her hips, and a rich emerald green cloak draped over her shoulders, billowing down to her knees. Her bow was nearly twice her size, and intricately carved along the length. Its wood was a reddish hue. Maybe mahogany? Her azure eyes twinkled and she smiled at Iona cheerily.
“Why? You think that it's cursed, too?”
“My neighbor back in Lyonwood used to be a traveling merchant. His wagon broke down in Mistria. He somehow contracted Gordian plague and went to forage for medicinal herbs before the sickness overtook him. On his way back, the goods in his wagon started actually crumbling into dust. It was the damnedest thing. He couldn't figure out what was happening. By the time he got back to town, the only part of the wagon that hadn't disintegrated was the chassis. The wheels broke and turned to dust right after he crossed the gate. The poor guy never saw a lick of good luck or success after that. People say that he was cursed because he traveled to Mistria. As for whether I think he was cursed... well I don't know. But a place with a reputation like that has to be avoided, whether the curse is real or not.”
“I've never heard stories of the place until I got here. I'm from a village near the Caldosian border... Stories from the western coast don't often travel that far.” Iona's eyes flitted to the flyer again. “It's just... four acres is a pretty tempting offer.”
The archer was still smiling, perhaps calculating her response, or perhaps thinking how insane Iona must be for still considering the offer after hearing about the curse. “Name's Caydin.” She held out a hand fitted with a fingerless leather glove, and Iona took it, and shook it briefly.
“Iona.”
“Are you new here? I don't see you with a party.”
“Ahh.... not exactly.” Iona pulled at her hair, nervously. “I've been here for two years.”
“Wow, you must be at least Iron rank then!”
“No, I'm Copper, still,” Iona murmured.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, turns out that no one cares for dagger-wielders unless you have advanced stealth techniques! Hard to get your feet in.”
Caydin regarded the woman, her gaze steady and unyielding. Iona shifted uncomfortably. Everyone always judged her when they found out her rank, or combat style, or even origin. She was from an obscure farming village near the Caldosian border. They frequently resorted to trading with Caldosian merchants just to get enough resources to survive, as they were disregarded by both their local Aldarian baron and the Capital. They didn't have any worthwhile resources to garner any sort of attention. She thought that adventuring in the Capital would be enough to finally change her circumstances, but she'd been in the same rut for two years.
The archer finally spoke, “You know... I'm part of a Ruby ranked party that's preparing to go into the Southern Woods for a week-long excursion. They sent me to gather up as many requests as I could. We could probably use a second melee combatant.”
“Wait... really?” A party offer?! Iona's heart leapt in her chest.
“Well... I'll have to talk it over with my party. But I'll let you know soon. Meet back in the tavern for dinner?”
“Sure.” Iona smiled. They shook hands, and Caydin took her leave. She let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she'd finally get a break.
-.-.-.-
Iona arrived at the Guild tavern right as dinner service began. It was already bustling with activity. Two waitresses flitted between tables, serving up mugs, plates of steaming food, and jotting down orders. Several groups filled the tables nearest to the fireplace, and a few loners nursed mugs of ale at the bar. Iona's eyes settled on a table at the corner of the room, where the archer's party was settled. Caydin waved her over. She was seated next to a hulking man with shaggy brown hair. On the other side of the table sat a rather bored looking man, who was reading a book. His long, black hair, cascaded down his shoulders and pooled on the table. Iona wishes for a brief moment that she had such luscious hair. Her own was teal, and cut short at the shoulders, which was a decision of convenience while she traveled that had turned into a habit. A fleeting thought of growing her hair out skittered in her mind before she caught a glimpse of the last member—another archer, who was seated next to the dark-haired man and was currently digging into a bowl of stew. His face was handsome, eyes brown, hair sandy-blonde, he met her gaze and smiled playfully.
“There she is!” Caydin chirped.
“Gregor, Malus, Alasdair, meet Iona. She's the dagger-wielder I told you about.”
The brown-haired man stood. He was very tall, towering over Iona by probably two heads. A huge, rune-inscripted broadsword was slung over his back. “I'm Gregor, party leader. Ruby rank. It's good to meet you, Iona.” He shook her hand forcefully.
“Likewise.”
“This is Malus, our potion master,” Gregor gestured to the spectacled, black-haired man. He didn't reply, but instead met her gaze briefly and raised his hand in greeting. “And Alasdair, our shortbow archer.” Alastair posed and flipped his blonde bangs out of his eyes in an exaggerated display of flattery. The corner of Iona's mouth tilted upwards and her eye twitched.
Gregor continued, unfazed, “Caydin said you were a Copper rank dagger-wielder?”
Iona was silent for a moment before replying, “Uhh... That’s right.” She found it hard to explain any further.
“We could use someone with a bit more agility on our excursion to the Woods. Caydin and Alasdair are both ranged, and Malus doesn’t do combat, only strategy. As for me…” He chuckled and patted the broadsword on his back, flexing his biceps as he moved. “I move too slowly thanks to this lovely piece here.”
Ugh, the leader is even like this too? Iona felt herself deadpan and hoped it didn't show on her face. She forced herself to remain neutral. Maybe the money won't be worth it... Do I really want to get involved in this circus?
“Your lack of agility is why I suggested you take up a shortsword and shield,” Malus noted, not bothering to look up from his book. “Though, you're still probably too heavy to move quickly.”
“At least I fight!” Gregor barked. “You never lift your nose from those stupid books, which mind you, make potions that barely work.”
“What do you expect? Magic?”
Gregor's face screwed into a grimace and he began to hurl insults at Malus. The scholar simply sighed, choosing to ignore Gregor's onslaught, and began reading his book again. Iona watched the two in disbelief. This party dynamic surely can't be common.
Caydin smiled sheepishly and called to him, “Gregor... you're forgetting yourself.”
“Ah... right. Sorry, Caydin.” He turned to Iona and ran his hand through his hair revealing a scar running from his eyebrow across his forehead. “I apologize, Iona.” He laughed flatly and cleared his throat. “What I meant to say earlier is that we’ve been looking for someone like you to join since we got to town. What do you say? We’ll give you a ten percent cut.”
Iona felt a bit lightheaded at the prospect of an actual party offer. But, her heart soon dropped and she bit her lip. She tried to understand the reasoning here. Ten percent? Why in the world would they offer a double rate? New party members usually started at five percent until they proved themselves valuable, then they could share the split of the rewards and loot equally with the rest of the party.
“I can see you’re skeptical,” Gregor purred. He grinned widely, took Iona by the shoulder, and leaned in close to her ear. He smelled of tobacco and musk. Iona had to admit it was kind of alluring. He spoke lowly so no one would hear, “We’ve planned quite the lucrative trip here. We’ve gathered nearly twenty different contracts from Stone up to Iron rankings. The Iron one is gonna be the toughest, as we’re still Ruby ranked. But… Malus has planned out a number of quests that require agility. We plan on netting over 20,000 tesserae this week, if everything goes to plan. And that's after the Guild's cut. The ten percent won’t eat into our earnings in the slightest.” He finished speaking and leaned away. Iona shivered as the last of his breath tickled her neck. He chuckled lowly, a smug smile plastering his face. She felt her cheeks grow hot and looked at the floor.
“Jeez, Gregor, putting the moves on her already?” Alasdair quipped.
“Hey, hey now, don’t be jealous...”
Their banter was droned out by Iona's pounding heartbeat and her furious thoughts. Ten percent of 20,000 tesserae is 2,000 t. This was an even better deal than she expected. Her last excursion had only netted her 175 tesserae after travel expenses. It was originally 300, but she had to spend more to restock her supplies after being out for twice as long as expected. Over six times more plus experience adventuring with a higher ranked party. Plus... she felt her heart pull a bit... she’d dreamed of being accepted into a party since she’d gotten to the Capital. It's everything she'd wanted. These lot were definitely... eccentric. She glanced at the group. Gregor and Alasdair were now jauntily bantering, Malus and Caydin were sitting at the table bench, sipping on their drinks. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.
Caydin smiled at her, warmly. “Hey, so what do you say? We expect our expedition to take about a week, tops.”
What would it be like in a party? She let herself imagine hiking with the group, setting up camp, fighting monsters. Would she become friends like Gregor and Alasdair? Would she be aloof like Malus? Friendly and welcoming like Caydin? The longing to feel accepted washed over Iona again. When was the last time she had a friend? Long ago, back home. Long before her fruitless adventuring in the Capital. Before her wandering as a teenager and scoundrel. Before her home was destroyed. There really was no other good option, she decided.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”