Far beyond the barony walls, Owen walked.
The road stretched wide and unfamiliar, trees closing in on either side, the smell of damp earth and freedom filling his lungs.
No destination.
No plan.
Just forward.
He adjusted the strap of his pack and kept moving, boots crunching softly against gravel. For the first time in his life, there were no expectations pressing down on him.
No barony. No tests. No names to live up to.
Just the world and the thought of it loosened something inside of him.
By the time Owen reached a town fairly far from the control of Landergrey, the sun was already sinking.
As he crossed the gates he looked up to a small banner. 'Welcome to Stonehaven." it said.
Owen already had heard stories of this place. He knew that Stonehaven wasn't big, but it wasn't small either one of those frontier towns that lived because it had one of the best mercenary guilds in the kingdom. High wooden walls reinforced with iron bands circled the settlement, scarred with claw marks and old burn stains. Watchtowers stood at each gate, manned by tired-looking guards who'd seen enough blood to stop asking questions.
The air smelled like smoke, iron, and wet earth It was your run of the mill Mercenary town.
Owen fit right in.
He followed the noise of shouting, laughter, the clang of tankards until he found it.
The Black Rose Guild Hall.
A wide, squat building of stone and dark wood, its front carved with symbols of blades, shields, and beasts with a rose in the center. A massive board stood outside, plastered with parchment requests: monster subjugations, escorts, supply runs, missing persons.
Some were torn halfway down.
Some were marked with red wax.
Owen pushed the door open.
Warmth and noise hit him at once.
Mercenaries crowded the hall, men and women of all races and builds. Some wore battered armor, others cloaks soaked in blood and rain. Scars were common. Missing fingers more so. Conversations overlapped in a chaotic hum, punctuated by bursts of laughter or sudden arguments.
No one paid Owen much attention.
Good.
He approached the front counter, where a woman with ash-blonde hair and sharp green eyes was lazily flipping through a ledger.
"Registration?" she asked without looking up.
"Yes."
That got her attention.
She looked him over slowly. Simple clothes. No visible mana. A sword that had seen use.
"Name?"
"Owen."
"Last name?"
"Just Owen."
She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Happens. You here to die fast or make money?"
"Make money," he replied.
She smirked. "We'll see."
She slid a metal tag across the counter. "Testing room's in the back. Impress the examiner, you live longer."
Owen dropped his pack on the counter and the lady took it and then proceeded to walk through the door that was next to the counter with his blade already drawn.
The testing chamber was a wide, circular room reinforced with runic stone. Training dummies lined the walls, some scorched, some shattered. A faint barrier shimmered over the floor.
A man stood waiting inside.
Tall. Broad. Beard streaked with grey. One eye replaced by a polished obsidian gem etched with runes.
"Name?" he asked.
"Owen."
"Mana?"
"None."
The man studied him for a long moment.
"…Interesting," he muttered. "I'm Varek. Survive ten minutes."
The barrier flared.
Three constructs rose from the floor. Humanoids with stone-bodied, blades for arms.
They attacked immediately.
Owen moved swiftly as the first blade scraped past his shoulder as he twisted aside, sword flashing in a clean arc that shattered the construct's knee joint. He didn't linger as rolled under the second, pivoted, drove steel into a crack at its neck.
The third instantly adapted.
Faster. Heavier.
Owen's breathing deepened. Sweat rolled down his brow. His movements sharpened, body responding before thought could slow it down.
Stone shattered.
Minutes passed.
Then five.
Then eight.
The final construct lunged, overcommitted
Owen stepped inside its guard and struck once.
Silence.
The barrier faded.
Varek stared at the wreckage, then at Owen.
"… Without using mana," he said slowly. " You took a hundred and thirteen constructs in ten minutes. Not only that but the last ones are at least fifth circle constructs."
Owen stared at him blankly. Nobody had ever praised him before.
" Tell me kid." Varek continued " Why did you choose to fight without mana. Are you that cocky that you'd win?"
" It wasn't a choice." Owen replied as he sheathed his blade " I have no mana."
Varek stood there with an unreadable expression before turning and walking out.
"Follow me." he said with his back turned from Owen.
The ash-blonde receptionist looked up as they returned.
"Well?" she asked.
Varek placed a card on the counter.
Metal. Blue-edged.
"B-rank."
The hall went quiet.
Someone choked on their drink.
"B-rank?" a mercenary barked. "From entry?"
The woman's eyes widened slightly, then she whistled. "Huh. Guess we got a live one."
She slid the card to Owen. "Welcome to the guild, Owen. Don't get cocky. B-rank just means you'll die slightly later if you're stupid."
Owen nodded. "Understood."
She leaned in. "First job?"
He glanced at the board.
A parchment fluttered at the edge.
Forest outskirts. Beast activity increasing. Low visibility. Reward negotiable.
"I'll take that," he said.
A voice behind him laughed.
"Bold choice, super rookie."
Owen turned.
The speaker was a woman with short silver hair and a scar cutting across her nose, leaning back in her chair with boots on the table. Twin daggers rested at her hips.
"Name's Lysa," she said. "I'm taking that one too. You tagging along, or you want me to scrape you off a tree later?"
Before Owen could answer, another voice chimed in.
"Relax, Lysa. If the kid passed Varek's test, he'll manage."
A broad-shouldered man with dark skin and a massive hammer slung over his back stood nearby, smiling warmly.
"Brunn," he said. "You don't look like a talker. I respect that."
Owen hesitated, then nodded. "Owen."
Lysa smirked. "Great. Not really a talker huh." She stood. "Well then we leave at dawn."