The stickman in front of him was made out of thick wooden sticks lashed together into a rough humanoid shape. Instead of a circle for a head, it just had a thick log with its bark stripped off.

  The stickman walked over in a mechanical and jittery motion, joints twitching with every move. Using one of its stick hands, it pointed towards its head. The wooden stickman bent down, and Colby saw a thin line across the top of its log head. Something was coming out of it.

  He stood back, prepared for the worst.

  Turns out it was just a piece of paper being printed out of the stickman’s head.

  As Colby looked at the wooden-mechanical being, a thought shot across his mind.

  What if that stickman was actually a stickwoman—just a really thin one? Should he be looking at it? He covered his eyes with his hands, peeking through his fingers just enough to catch a glimpse of the paper on the stickman—woman's?—thick head.

  He grabbed it and angled it right through the little slit between his fingers. On it was a message that read, “Beat me.”

  Colby looked at the being as best he could, asking, “Are you sure?"

  Another piece of paper emerged from that hole on its head.

  It read, “Yes.”

  The stick figure raised its fist in slow and jittery motion, giving Colby ample time to realize that it was about to bonk him on the noggin.

  Colby slipped the piece of paper into his pocket and stepped to the side, dodging that tremendously slow blow.

  This test was going to be really easy. All he had to do was beat that stickman or woman. In fact, it was so easy, he was confident that he didn’t even need to use cheese to accomplish it.

  No wonder even people younger than him managed to become adventurers. Heck, no wonder double dagger girl or dim-witted duo managed to become adventurers. Been a while since he last thought about them. Hopefully, Elaine had relayed word about the miscreants, and they were now behind bars.

  Okay, thoughts later. Fight now.

  Colby cracked his neck, then he cracked his toes. If he had access to both of his hands, he would’ve cracked his knuckles.

  He ran up to the stick figure, peering through the small opening in his fingers. Clenching his fist, he gave it one solid punch in the face. Something cracked.

  It was his knuckle.

  Colby bit down on the hand covering his face, suppressing the urge to scream. If the pain didn’t go away soon, a bunch of colorful language was about to spew out of his mouth.

  Still, it was worth it. Pain was temporary, adventure rights were eternal—probably. And he had passed the test with mostly flying colors.

  Colby walked back towards the door, still biting down on his hand. The stick figure chased after him, stumbling one jittery step at a time.

  Odd. Why was it still after him?

  The stick figure must not have gotten the memo. He had beaten it. The test was over. He was a half-fledged adventurer. Once he got the proper registration done with that nice receptionist lady, he’d be a full-fledged adventurer.

  Colby grabbed the knob and pulled the door open. The wooden door smacked into the stick figure’s falling fist, blocking the blow.

  Rude. It must’ve been a sore loser and wanted revenge. Too bad for the stick figure; he didn’t have time to waste.

  His cheese was calling out to him, and they were calling out for ingredients, which were calling out really loudly for the gold required to purchase them.

  He stepped through the door and shut it behind him, leaving the stick figure to reflect on its life choices.

  Porter [Dashed] up to him. He was frantic, looking over each and every part of his body.

  “What are you doing, Port?”

  I’m making sure you’re okay, Colby. Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m Colby,” he giggled.

  Porter ignored him, continuing to look over his entire body.

  “And why wouldn’t I be okay?” Colby asked.

  “Because you’re.. You know… the thing.”

  “What thing?"

  Was that the same thing Elaine was talking about? The thing that he had apparently forgotten about, but no one else had. The thing that no one wanted to tell him about.

  “It’s—Colby! Your hand. You’re hurt!” Porter exclaimed.

  He lifted up his hand, looking at what Porter was panicking about. There wasn’t even a scratch. His knuckle was just slightly red. It was nothing. He had been hurt far worse by a particular little sister that he loved oh so much.

  Like the one time a bat flew into their bedroom. It landed on her, and that was enough to convince her that she was destined to be a vampire. She must’ve learned a very different definition of vampire because instead of only biting people’s necks, she bit everything—including his hand and even the dining table for some reason.

  “This?” Colby said. “This is nothing.”

  “Are you sure, Colby? Does it hurt? Do you need me to run out and buy a Healing Potion?”

  “Like I said, Port. I’m fine. And don’t waste your gold on that. You’re better off giving it to me so that I can buy ingredients to make my cheese.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  Porter opened up his Inventory and stuck his hand inside the glowing screen.

  What was it with his friends and immediately shoving their hard-earned gold in his face? Seriously, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “No, Port. Don’t. It was a joke. Save it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m Colby. And right now I need to go talk to that receptionist lady to tell her I completed the test.”

  Colby walked over to the reception area, swinging his arms proudly with a huge grin on his face. Gold, here he comes.

  Again, he was first in line—and technically last in line too.

  “Excuse me. I’ve completed that test thingy,” he said.

  “Right, I’ve got the results from the wood golem. It says that you’ve failed. Don’t worry, there’s always next time.”

  "What do you mean I failed? I clearly passed. That stick man or woman told me to beat it. And I did.”

  She just stared at him. He knew that look. He had given that exact same look when dealing with difficult customers. It was a mix of ‘I am not paid enough for this’ and ‘This guy is dumb’.

  Collby opened his mouth, ready to go on a lengthy tirade about how he was not dumb, when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Curds, Port! Not now.

  He turned around, only to find a short, old lady dressed in red instead of the tattered shirt-wearing friend, Porter.

  “Ms. M?” Colby blurted out.

  “Oh, little Colby. What brings you to the guild?”

  “I need some gold so that I can make my own cheese.”

  “I see. And what seems to be the problem?”

  “Well, I had to do this test to become an adventurer. I did it. I passed it. But she said I failed, even though I clearly passed.”

  Ms. M faced the receptionist, asking, “Is what he said true?”

  Colby turned back, and instead of a boorish stare, the receptionist stood up straight and gave a huge, beaming smile. Stuttering, she replied, “Y-yes, ma’am. The wood golem that you helped to set up is intact with minimal damage incurred.”

  “Interesting,” she said, smiling.

  Who was Ms. M? Wasn’t she just an old lady who happened to really like the chevre he made?

  Turning to Colby, she asked, “Could you walk me through what happened inside the room?”

  “Sure. I walked in. That stick thingy walked in. He or she or it asked me to beat it. I ran up and punched it in the face, then when I went out the door, it tried to get revenge and failed. And look!” he said, lifting up his red knuckle. “I clearly beat it. I don’t know what other proof you want.”

  “Just to be clear, the wood golem said to ‘beat it’?”

  “Actually, it said ‘beat me’. Me being the stick thingy. Says so right here.” Colby fished out the slip of paper from his pocket, holding it up for Ms. M to see.

  Ms. M nodded.

  "The boy passed.”

  “See. Told you,” Colby said.

  “What? How?” The receptionist was baffled. Looks like she was the dumb one.

  “Little Colby here beat the wood golem. ‘Beat’ as in to hit. What you were thinking of was ‘beat’ as in to defeat. It happens. Every once in a while, there’s a fledgling who’s more brains than brawn.”

  The receptionist lady had her mouth agape, brows furrowed as she processed Ms. M’s words.

  Ms. M turned to Colby, leading him to one of the empty tables within the wide hall.

  “While she gets the paperwork done—after her brain starts moving again—let’s have a talk.”

  “Sure?” Colby said, more confused than anything.

  Why did she want to talk to him? What was there to talk about? Maybe about how rude he had been, asking for a hard-learned recipe as if it were nothing more than pocket change? Perhaps she had a change of heart, and she did want to give him her candied ginger recipe. It would certainly make things a lot easier for him.

  Doubt things would be that perfect, but a guy could dream.

  “You too,” Ms. M said, pointing off into the distance.

  Colby followed her finger. It was Porter hiding behind a pillar.

  So that’s where he was.

  Wait. Why was he hiding?

  Porter shuffled closer, hesitating for a moment before sitting down next to him.

  “H-honor to meet you, Ma’am,” he stuttered.

  Okay, seriously. Why was everyone acting as if Ms. M was some big hotshot? As a longtime regular to his parents' cheeseshop, she was definitely important—but not to this extent.

  Colby leaned toward Porter, whispering into his ear, “What’s going on? Who’s that?”

  He snapped his head toward him, a look of shock sweeping over his face. “Colby, that’s Ms. Morgan. An Arcanist. You know, the hero who saved Brinebrook from being swept away by a huge, magically charged tsunami.”

  So, that’s what the M in Ms. M stood for.

  “Enough about me,” she said. “I want to know more about you.”

  Guess they weren’t whispering soft enough.

  “Me?” Colby asked, pointing at himself. Just to be sure, he turned around, checking that there wasn’t someone standing behind him that she might’ve been talking to.

  “Yes, little Tyro. You.”

  “What about me?”

  “Why are you really here at the guild?”

  “To earn some gold to buy ingredients to make my cheese.”

  She stared into his eyes as if searching for something. He stared back, wondering if she knew about that eye booger in her right eye.

  “Looks like you really are telling the truth.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Wait, why are you here?”

  “Colby!” Porter said. “Sorry, Ms. Morgan. And sorry, Colby, for shouting at you.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t care much for these pleasantries. Being direct makes a lot of things easier. I’m here to post a request.”

  “Oh, what kind of request? Maybe I could do it!”

  “And I think maybe you shall.”

  “Wait, really? You’re letting me do it?”

  “I don’t see why not. It’s a simple quest. However, it’s a bit too much for a frail old lady like me. And I think someone like you might benefit from such an experience.”

  “Sure! What is it?”

  “I just need you to gather some Butterfly Ginger for me.”

  “Wait… is that… I mean, of course. I will definitely do that. And I’ll do that right now.”

  “Not so fast, little Colby. You’ll need this first.”

  The receptionist lady walked up to them, handing over a blank card.

  “What’s this?” Colby asked, turning it around. It was just a blank white card.

  “Just give it a second.”

  All of a sudden, words started to appear on the card. It showed his name, age, and even a picture of him. When did they take that?

  “Woah. I didn’t know you could do stuff like that.”

  Ms. Morgan leaned in close, touching the card. The words and picture on it disappeared, replaced with details of his current quest.

  Rank: 1★

  Requester: Ms. Morgan.

  Request: Gather 10 Butterfly Gingers

  Reward: 30 Gold

  Woah, 30 gold just to gather up some Butterfly Ginger? No wonder so many people wanted to be adventurers. It was easy money. But… just to be sure.

  “Are you sure that the reward is correct?”

  “Yes. And just remember, like your earlier test, there are multiple paths to the same destination.”

  “Got it.”

  Who cared about some old lady’s weird riddles or that she was contradicting herself by saying that she liked being direct? There was also the fact that she was a member of The Arcanum, yet couldn’t go grab some Butterfly Gingers herself? Sure, she may have been old, but she wasn’t that old. And why did it seem like she had some relationship with the Adventurer’s Guild? Wasn’t The Arcanum and the guild two separate entities?

  So many questions. But he didn’t care about any of that.

  What he did care about was finally knowing what type of ginger Ms. M, or should he say Ms. Morgan, used for her candied ginger. Now, he was one step closer to making a flavored cheese combination his mother hadn’t come up with yet. And the best part? He didn’t have to waste any gold on buying them from the General Store.

  Wait, why didn’t she just buy some Butterfly Gingers from the General Store?

  There were just too many things not adding up. Should he be concerned?

  Yes.

  But cheese trumped all.

  He got up, nearly toppling his chair—good thing Porter was there to catch it—before dashing out of the Adventurer’s Guild.

  30 gold! This was his gateway to finally making his own cheese again during this stupid war.