The Mercenary Guild building loomed ahead, a grand structure of stone and iron that towered over the busy street like a fortress. Massive pillars lined the entrance, casting long shadows that stretched across the cobblestone.

  Sunlight filtered through the large arched windows, lighting up banners draped along the walls, each emblazoned with crests from different kingdoms and mercenary orders. As Ragna and I stepped through the heavy doors, a low murmur ran through the hall, and I felt the weight of a hundred eyes turn our way.

  Inside, the guild was buzzing with life – mercenaries crowded around tables, some nursing mugs of ale, others sharpening their weapons or swapping stories with the kind of loud bravado that only comes after one too many drinks. But as we entered, the noise died down, and heads turned in our direction. A few men nudged each other, muttering and whispering, while others just stared openly.

  “Look, it’s those barbarians that landed yesterday,” someone nearby muttered.

  “Valtherians from the Volcanic Islands…” someone else said. “That’s crazy.”

  “Bet they could break a shield with one punch,” another added, snickering.

  Then one bold idiot grinned, giving Ragna a once-over. “Damn, look at the size of her ass…” started, not even finishing the thought before Ragna’s glare sliced in his direction, sharp enough to make him flinch. His smirk vanished, and he stumbled back, tripping over a chair and landing flat on his back. Laughter erupted from nearby tables, a few cheers mixed in, and I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

  With the man’s pride thoroughly bruised, Ragna and I walked past the gawkers and headed straight for the receptionist’s desk. Before we could take more than a few steps, a burst of laughter echoed through the hall, rich and unrestrained.

  “By the tides, I needed that,” a woman’s voice rang out. It came from a table to our left, where a group of rough-looking individuals sat nursing drinks. The speaker was a striking woman with long, jet-black hair and an eyepatch over her left eye. She leaned back in her chair with a practiced ease, her boots propped up on the table’s edge. Her dark, weathered coat and the cutlass hanging from her belt screamed pirate, and the rough men around her only added to the impression. Yet, here she was, sitting in a Mercenary Guild like she belonged.

  “What’s so funny?” Ragna asked, her tone clipped as she shot the woman a sharp look.

  “Oh, don’t be mad, love,” the woman replied, still chuckling. “I’ve just never seen a man turn tail that fast. You didn’t even need to draw blood.”

  Ragna crossed her arms but said nothing, her glare enough to convey her irritation. Meanwhile, I found my gaze lingering on the pirate, curiosity piqued by her presence here. She noticed, of course. Her single eye glinted with amusement, and her smirk widened as she tilted her head toward me.

  “What you looking at, boy?” she drawled. “Wanna come over? We’ve got space for one more.”

  I shook my head, muttering, “No, thanks,” before turning to head toward the receptionist’s desk. But the woman wasn’t done.

  “Name’s Captain Jora, leader of the Stormchaser Pirates!” she called after me, loud enough for the whole room to hear. I wondered what a pirate was doing here, sitting without a worry. Didn’t this city have any law? “Come on, join my crew! You look like you’ve got the spine for it. Especially her,” she jabbed a thumb toward Ragna, who bristled but stayed silent.

  One of her companions, a wiry man with a missing tooth, leaned in and whispered something. Jora barked a laugh. “Oh, hush, Tarkin. I know they’re not interested. Not yet, anyway.” She flashed me another grin. “But the offer’s open. Stormchaser Pirates always need fresh blood.”

  Ignoring her, I continued toward the counter. Ragna followed close behind, muttering something about “loudmouthed braggarts.” Pirates, mercenaries, barbarians – all labels that civilization used to separate itself from chaos. Yet wasn’t civilization itself just organized chaos dressed in fancy clothes?

  Captain Jora chuckled again, clearly enjoying herself, before turning back to her table and resuming her drink.

  The man behind the counter looked up as we approached, adjusting his glasses with a smile that was polite, if a bit more cautious now that we were standing in front of him. His hair was neatly combed, and he had a kind of professional calm about him that said he’d dealt with worse than us.

  “Welcome to the Mercenary Guild,” he greeted, his voice pleasant, though I caught a glint of curiosity in his gaze. “How may I assist you today?”

  “We’re looking for an escort mission,” I replied, leaning forward a little. “Something that’ll take us toward Ethenia.”

  His eyebrows arched slightly, and I could see a hint of worry pass over his face. “Ethenia?” he repeated, his tone cautious. “That’s quite a journey…”

  “Or so I heard.”

  “I’m afraid there isn’t any single mission that would take you that far. The route is too long and… unpredictable. However…” He paused, giving us both a once-over before continuing, “You could travel from city to city, taking missions that lead you westward. It’s not uncommon for mercenaries to work their way across the continent that way.”

  I sighed, feeling the weight of reality settle in. “Figures,” I muttered. This world didn’t have planes. What other choice did I have? “I don’t suppose there’s a shortcut?”

  The receptionist gave a sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately, no. Ah, you might be able to use teleportation fields, but they’re very expensive and don’t cover from one nation to another. Just from one important city to another. Seagard doesn’t have one,” he said, and then added, “But once you’re registered as mercenaries, I’d be happy to assist you in finding suitable missions. I’m assuming neither one of you is registered?”

  I glanced at Ragna, who shrugged in that nonchalant way of hers, clearly unbothered. I turned back to the man. “Not yet.”

  A spark of interest flickered in his eyes, and he gestured to a side table where a stone tablet rested, intricately carved with a goddess figure wrapping her wings protectively around it. “Please place your hands on the stone,” he instructed. “It’s designed to measure your level. Just a standard part of the registration.”

  Like a fantasy DMV, I pondered in my head. At least there's no waiting in line for three hours only to be told I filled out the wrong form.

  “Sure thing. Ragna, go ahead,” I said, and she looked at me. She hesitated for some reason, and I tilted my head. “Yes?”

  “Nothing,” she sighed and stepped forward, her expression wary as she eyed the stone tablet. I raised an eyebrow at her hesitation. Did she not like the Goddess Statue? A moment later, she just set her jaw and placed her hand on the stone.

  A faint glow pulsed from her hand, spreading across the surface. After a few seconds, the letters Level 29 appeared above it.

  “Damn.” Whispers rose through the room as a few mercenaries turned, eyebrows raised in surprise. Ragna lifted her chin, meeting their stares head-on. She liked the surprise in them.

  “Almost Third Ascension…” the receptionist murmured, barely audible, but I caught it. He sounded surprised. “Ah, how old are you?”

  “Eighteen. Both of us,” Ragna said, and I grinned, enjoying the shock that multiplied around us. From what I’d seen, 3rd Ascensions were rare in this city. Most were old, experienced people and not younglings like us.

  I stepped up to the stone myself. I gently placed my hand on the cool surface, and the glow flared brighter. A new number floated up.

  Level 31.

  The room went silent, and I could practically feel the eyes on me now – some wary, some impressed. I held back a smile, feeling their gazes that were a mixture of curiosity and respect. Some stared as if trying to size up just how dangerous we were.

  The receptionist cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his surprise. His smile turned a bit more formal, a touch more respectful. “Well then, I believe we’re almost finished. You won’t have to wait long.”

  He clapped his hands, and two guild workers appeared, one carrying a pen and a stack of papers. “Please provide your details – name, age, any prior experience – and we’ll have you officially registered in no time.”

  Ragna and I rattled off our details while the workers scribbled them down. This was the common tongue, and it looked like a heavily stylized version of English. I didn’t know how to write like that yet, so both Ragna and I left the writing to them.

  Once we’d finished, the receptionist returned with two small badges, polished and cool to the touch. He handed them over with a slight bow. “Welcome to the Mercenary Guild. These are C-rank badges. You’re strong enough for this as Third Ascension warriors, even if the lady is a level behind. Normally, C-rank requires both level and experience, but… well, as Valtherians of the Volcanic Islands, I don’t doubt your battle experience.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t mistake it, though. Any other barbarian tribe, we’d have still started from F-rank, or E-rank at most, experience or not. But as you guys are the people of the Magmaborn himself, the Pillar of Valteria, it's only fitting we honor his people. Please mention our branch when you meet him.”

  Ah. They’re trying hard to please that man, I thought as I turned the badge over in my hand. Funny how even the proudest civilizations bent their knees when power walked into the room. Strength truly was the universal language. “Appreciate the gesture,” I said, slipping it into my pocket. “Now, about those escort missions toward Ethenia?”

  Before the receptionist could respond, a familiar voice cut in. “Actually, my friend…” I turned, spotting Borric standing nearby, a respectful smile on his face. Beside him was a figure cloaked in thick robes, their face hidden by a hood, and a knight – the same man I’d bumped into before – standing watchfully by their side.

  “Borric,” I greeted, giving him a nod, and he returned it with a polite dip of his head.

  The merchant stepped forward, his voice low and filled with gratitude. “I’d be honored if you took your first mission with me. I’m escorting someone… rather important a long way from here. The capital city. It’s closer to Ethenia, and I would feel far safer with a warrior like you by my side. Please accept,” he said, almost pleading. “I had high hopes when I recommended you to my guests here.”

  I eyed the robed figure beside him, noting how he stood, wrapped up in layers even in the room's warmth. Whoever he was, he was clearly someone important for them to be guarded by a 5th Ascension man.

  Not that he was weak himself.

  [4th Ascension]

  I noticed those words above the robed person’s head and then glanced over at Ragna, catching the glint of curiosity in her eyes. She gave a small nod as if saying we’d end up doing it anyway. I shrugged. It didn’t hurt to hear about the mission, at least.

  “Well then,” I said, turning back to Borric with a smirk. “Lead the way.” I knew this person wasn’t going to talk about the mission in public, so I urged them forward.

  ****

  A guild worker led Ragna and me down a narrow hallway, finally stopping in front of a polished wooden door. It opened with a creak, revealing a private chamber furnished with rich, deep colors and a scattering of elegant decorations. Whoever this cloaked figure was, he was important enough to warrant the guild’s respect – and enough privacy to discuss things beyond the ears of curious mercenaries.

  We stepped inside, and the figure turned, lifting his hands to the hood of his cloak. “Thank you for accepting the request,” the figure said in a soft voice as the hood fell.

  I blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a ‘he’ at all.

  The voice belonged to a woman – a beautiful one, at that. Her blue hair tumbled over her shoulders like a cascade of water, glinting in the light that streamed through the windows. She wore a black and white bikini-style outfit with gold embroidery and filigree details, exuding elegance and royalty. A flowing white robe with red lining draped over her arms. Her look was completed with a golden choker, dangling earrings, and a jeweled forehead diadem, enhancing her regal presence.

  Skin tanned, her body was gorgeous, but I made sure not to stare for too long. I locked eyes with her. Her face was delicate yet strong, with a fine balance of softness and sharpness, and her eyes held the weight of someone who understood the burdens of leadership.

  When I simply stared, she moved to gracefully lean on the couch, a hand moving under her chin. Her gaze fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and power.

  “...No,” I finally said. “I haven’t accepted yet. We’re only here to listen, and we’ll consider it afterward,” I said, moving to sit across from her.

  Ragna plopped down beside me, her eyes darting around the room, and then blinked. She looked down at the couch she was sitting on, surprised by how soft it was, and then started pressing down with her hands as if testing the resilience of the fabric.

  I shot her a look, feeling my mysterious and serious vibe break. How’s she this silly… I tapped her knee with a finger, and she straightened, clearing her throat but wearing a smile that made me wonder if she’d taken my scolding seriously at all.

  A snort of disdain came from the knight standing beside the woman, his eyes narrowing as he looked at us over. “...Princess, they clearly lack respect and common sense. Look at how they behave. And they even dared to question your offer instead of accepting it outright. Where is the respect?

  His voice held a hard edge, and I saw Borric, the merchant from earlier, shift uncomfortably at the knight’s words. He’d referred us to her, after all.

  The knight continued, “Fine, a lack of respect is understandable, given they’re from an isolated island, but they don’t have common sense either,” he leaned forward with a haughty expression. “I encountered these two in the street just a while ago, and they barely had the courtesy to apologize when they bumped into me. They didn’t even realize they’d crossed paths with a knight. How can we work with them?”

  “Ah!” Ragna’s face lit up, and she snapped her fingers. “So it was you! No wonder you looked familiar.”

  It now made sense why someone so strong was in this small city. He was escorting the Princess.

  His jaw clenched, his cheeks coloring with annoyance, as he leaned over more to speak to the princess. “We met less than an hour ago, Princess, and they’ve already forgotten. They don’t even have the memory capacity.” His voice rose with irritation. “There’s no need to entertain this. We’ve already enlisted the Wolfsbane Team. Their leader is a B-rank, and they’re seasoned mercenaries. They’ll do the job well enough. Do we really need these two… barbarians?”

  The princess turned to the knight, her expression calm but resolute. “Sir Allister, let’s not be hasty. These two saved Mr Borric here, remember? Without them, we might not have recovered… that. At least don’t be disrespectful to their face,” she shook her head and then looked back at me with an assessing gaze. “Besides, I don’t intend to carry them for free. They’ll be paid, and they’re strong enough to earn their keep. You saw their levels on the guild’s measuring tablet. I apologize for my knight.”

  “A-and I can vouch for their strength and character. Especially Thorvyn here, he’s strong enough to command a rowdy group of barbarians, and unlike some of the others, he has an honorable character,” Borric said, nodding at me. “When the other barbarians wanted to keep all the items retrieved from the pirates, Thorvyn here beat them up and ordered them to return our belongings to us. Without that… I would have lost everything.”

  The knight’s face soured, but he said nothing. The princess smiled at that report and continued, her gaze brightening. “See? Plus, I admit. I’m a little curious about the people of the Volcanic Islands. Who knows, maybe we have the next Magmaborn sitting before us.”

  Ragna’s eyes lit up, and she lifted her chin proudly. “True,” she said with a slight frown. “I might indeed be the one to succeed the Pillar of the Tribe.”

  Princess Isolde chuckled. She’d clearly meant me, given Borric’s talk, but a glimmer of approval appeared in her gaze at Ragna’s words. “Ambition. I admire that,” she said, her smile widening. “Girls like us are rare.”

  Something in her posture eased when she said it. For a heartbeat she didn’t look like a princess hiring muscle, but like a student who’d finally spotted a familiar kind of troublemaker in a foreign tavern.

  “Two ambitious princesses, indeed,” I made an idle comment, and only then did I realize I’d spoken out loud. The blue-haired girl turned to me, and then I added, “Well. Ragna here is the daughter of the tribe’s chief. Which makes her the Princess of the Volcanic Islands, no?”

  She blinked and then nodded. “Indeed,” she then looked at Ragna with a gaze that was even more friendly, as if looking at a comrade. “Allow me to introduce myself properly, then. I am Isolde Thalasson, the Princess of Thalassaria. I had business here in Seagard, which is now complete, so I must return to my home in Solstara.” She paused, studying my reaction, perhaps looking for any signs of recognition. “The City of Solstara is the capital of Thalassaria if you didn’t know. I plan to return with my retinue. If you accept this mission, you’ll join the other hired mercenaries for our journey back. And, of course, you’ll be compensated handsomely. What do you say?”

  I leaned back, crossing my arms as I considered the offer. Joining a royal caravan had its risks, especially with that uptight knight watching our every move, but it would get us closer to Ethenia. And if things went wrong, we had a 5th Ascension Knight on our side. The risks were minimal, and the pay should be incredible…

  But it’d probably not be the fastest way to reach Ethenia. If I wanted that, I would have to wait to find other jobs. I’d found a map shop before finding the guild, and from a map, I knew Ethenia wasn’t exactly a border over Thalassaria. I’d need to travel a lot more. I… wanted to see my mother soon.

  If my prediction about her being a mirror of the one woman I’d called ‘mom’ in my past life was true, I wanted to meet her as soon as possible. In another life, I’d taken her presence for granted, assuming I had all the time in the world. Now, even an extra day felt like too much.

  Not that there was a time limit of when I had to find her, but my heart just pushed me toward it. More than possibly getting answers about my isekai from her, I just couldn’t wait to see one of the most important people to me, who I’d thought I’d never see again.

  However, the logical part of me was right. There was no ‘time limit’ here since it wasn’t as if I’d miss her if I was a day late. I didn’t even know if she was indeed in the Fenixia Duchy. She was just seen there once. So it’d be wiser to travel more securely. And this opportunity certainly seemed secure enough, especially financially.

  I glanced at Ragna, who nodded to herself as if the decision had already been made. “Come on, I like this job,” she said, and I closed my eyes, deciding.

  Paths aren’t chosen by their ease, but by where they ultimately lead. Civilization or wilderness, the journey shapes the traveler far more than the destination. I pondered.

  “...Fine,” I opened my eyes and said, reaching out to shake her hand, surprising her. She looked down at my hand, hesitating for a split second. Sir Allister’s face twisted with disapproval, and he opened his mouth to object, but Princess Isolde beat him to it.

  “I must say, I’m impressed you’re already familiar with handshakes,” she said with a smile, placing her delicate hand in mine.

  “Princess, you shouldn’t – ” Sir Allister began, but she shot him a look that silenced him immediately. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet authority as she turned back to me. The mad knight looked like he'd just watched someone drink soup with a fork. Apparently, proper etiquette was more terrifying than the monsters we'd faced.

  Her touch was warm, soft against the rough calluses of my hand, and her grip firm for someone who looked so refined. It seemed she too was evaluating me in her head.

  “Then it’s settled,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet. “Gather your belongings and meet us at the western gate. We depart as soon as everyone’s ready. Time is of the essence.” She nodded to Borric and Sir Allister, who fell in step behind her as they exited the room.

  Ragna and I stood, watching them go. She nudged me with her elbow, a look of curiosity on her face. “You like them slim?”

  “What?” I tilted my head. “Anyways, let’s get our stuff. Wouldn’t want to keep her highness waiting.”

  As we left the chamber, I felt like I’d taken another step toward Ethenia. Toward finding my mother, wherever she was. But before we could reach the guild exit, Captain Jora of the Stormchaser Pirates blocked our path.

  "Leaving so soon?" she drawled, her single eye gleaming. "You should have thought a bit more carefully about who you're working for, barbarian. Some treasures are worth more than royal gold… and some secrets can get you killed."

  “Thank you for the unsolicited advice.”

  “I have a debt toward you Valtherians, that’s why I’m saying this,” she leaned closer, her voice dropping. "That blue-haired 'noble' isn't telling you everything."

  Here's a picture of Isolde Thallason from this chapter.

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