I woke up to the sound of clattering dishes and the low rumble of voices drifting up through the floor. For a long moment I lay there on the guild cot, staring at the ceiling beams, disoriented by how solid and quiet everything was. No monsters. No trees creaking like they were breathing. No slime wolves lurking behind shadows. Just the Iron-ranked Guild Hall waking up.

  It still felt strange.

  The guild had let us sleep in one of the bunk rooms reserved for training groups. The bedding smelled faintly of old smoke and pressed herbs, but the mattress was soft enough that I had actually slept through the night without jolting awake in confusion. My body felt warm and heavy, the good kind of heavy, like I had finally recovered from yesterday’s fear and excitement.

  I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and nearly tipped sideways when the room shifted slightly. My legs were still not used to so much training. The other kids stirred around me, yawning and stretching. The dwarven girl was already awake, sitting cross?legged on her cot with her eyes half?closed like she had been meditating. Shawn the boy who had been bitten by the slime wolf had drooled all over his blanket. The older boy in our group was already pulling on his boots like he had done this a thousand times.

  Greta’s voice bellowed from the doorway. “Up. Wash your faces. Breakfast. Move.”

  We moved.

  The Guild Hall’s main room was already half full when we came downstairs. Long tables stretched across the space, and older adventurers teenagers, technically, but to my eyes they looked like nearly grown warriors sat eating with relaxed confidence. Their armor and gear rested beside them, scratched and worn in ways that spoke of real danger. They talked casually about quests, monsters, bounties, and plans for the week.

  To them, this was a normal morning.

  To me, it felt like stepping into a legend.

  Greta pushed us toward an open table near the back. The older adventurers glanced at us with the same mixture of amusement and pity that adults gave small animals trying very hard to look fierce. I could tell they had been exactly where we were not too long ago.

  Breakfast was good food, nothing strange or exotic. Fresh bread still warm from the oven, a bowl of scrambled eggs with herbs mixed in, and a small cup of fruit cider. The hall smelled like butter, toasted crust, and the faint spice of pepper. Tina ate steadily and quietly. Shawn shoveled everything into his mouth like he had not seen food in days. I ate slowly and enjoyed every bite. It felt good to have a normal meal surrounded by people learning the same things I was.

  Once the older adventurers finished eating, they gathered their gear and headed for the doors in small groups. Some joked. Some looked grim. Some practiced little warm?up movements as they walked. A few waved at Myrda as they passed.

  When the hall finally quieted, Myrda stood, folded her hands neatly in front of her, and smiled at us.

  "Today," she said, "I will be accompanying all of you. Greta will take point, and I will assist as needed. Before we head out, I want to give each of you something important. It is a small tradition we keep for the second day in the Sea of Trees, and I believe it is always worth continuing."

  She reached under the counter, set something aside for a moment, then lifted a stack of round objects one by one.

  Shields.

  And beside them, a small bundle of thin metal plates strung on simple leather cords.

  Small, polished, reinforced Hammer Turtle shields.

  "The Guild provides these to every trainee who completes their first quest," Myrda said, setting the stack on the table with a smooth motion. She then lifted the bundle of thin plates. "And these are your Tin plates. Each plate is stamped with the Guild seal and the mark of Tin rank. You will wear them during all official activities until you ascend to Copper. They identify you as trainees and grant you access to Tin areas of the Sea of Trees." "They are not elaborate and they do not contain enchantments, but they are dependable. If you learn to use them correctly, they will protect you far more than you might expect."

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  One by one she handed out the Tin plates first. Each was about the size of a large coin, hammered flat and etched with a single star. The cord was meant to hang loosely around the neck so even the smallest trainee could wear it comfortably. The older kids slipped theirs on with familiar pride. The middle children ran their thumbs over the etched star with wide eyes.

  Then she began handing out the shields. The older kids strapped theirs to their arms immediately and grinned. The middle?sized kids adjusted the leather straps with proud, careful fingers.

  Then she reached me with both a shield and a Tin plate.

  She lowered the necklace first, placing the cord gently around my neck. The plate rested against my chest like a small metal tag, no bigger than my thumb. For a moment I simply held it in both hands, feeling the cool weight of official rank settle into place.

  After that, she picked up the shield.

  She hesitated.

  "I have never handed one of these to someone quite as small as you," she admitted, studying the shield and then me with thoughtful curiosity. "I do not make adjustments to them. Every shield is crafted to the same standard, so this is the version you will receive." She placed it gently into my arms. “Here you go.”

  It nearly covered my entire torso.

  I had to grip both straps with both hands just to keep it steady. Myrda tried not to laugh.

  "If it feels too large to carry comfortably at first, you may consider wearing it like a backpack," she suggested. "It can help protect you from unexpected bumps, low branches, or anything else that tends to ambush small adventurers."

  Behind her, Greta snorted.

  I pulled the shield closer and adjusted my footing until I could hold it without wobbling. It felt heavy, but it also felt real. My first true piece of gear.

  Greta nodded in approval. “Good. A shield is a weapon. A weapon is not always a shield. Remember that.”

  I looked down at it, then at my hands gripping the straps.

  "You will grow into it in time," Myrda said gently. "Until then, do your best not to let it pull you off balance."

  I nodded once. I would not fall.

  “Finish up,” Greta said as she adjusted her own gear. “We leave in ten minutes. Keep your eyes open. The forest forgives nothing.”

  I tightened my grip on the shield.

  Today, I would be ready.

  Myrda called us back together with a clear, steady voice. "Before we leave, each of you will select a Tin?ranked quest from the main board," she said. "There are five suitable choices available this morning. Take a moment to read them carefully and choose something you feel confident you can complete safely."

  We gathered around the quest board as she unrolled the wooden shutters that covered it overnight. Five slips shimmered with fresh ink.

  Gather five dew pods from low trees. Collect ten patches of glowing moss from marked stones. Exterminate eight squeak rabbits. Return with one intact spark horn beetle shell. Capture one live Purple Snail, marked with one and half star.

  The other kids murmured among themselves. Dew pods were easy. Glowing moss was everywhere. Squeak rabbits might bite your fingers but they were harmless and had soft teeth. Spark horn beetles were annoying because of the mild shock but they were very slow.

  I stared at the Purple Snail slip and noticed the small half star etched beside its symbol. I raised my hand slightly. "Why does this one have an extra half star?" Myrda answered before anyone else could. "The extra half stars indicate a quest that sits at the top edge of its rank. Still Tin, but more demanding than the others. Some quests are simple. Some require patience, good eyes, or luck. Purple Snails fall into that category. They are difficult to find, even though they leave purple trails. Oddly enough, the trails fade quickly, and the snails hide in places most adventurers never think to search. It is common to spend an entire day looking without finding a single one. That is why it has the half star." I felt something tighten pleasantly inside me. I wanted the hardest one.

  I reached up and took it.

  The dwarven girl stepped forward without hesitation and slid her squeak-rabbit-slaying slip back into its slot on the board. She took a Purple Snail slip instead and smiled at me with a sharp, satisfied look.

  "Good choice, runt. You found a quest that might actually be worth our time."

  I stared at her. "Who are you calling runt? You are only two inches taller than I am. And I'm only three."

  She tapped her broad shoulder with a thumb. "And ten inches wider, which is what counts. I am a dwarf, not a man."

  Greta sighed loudly behind us. "Of course. The smallest ones pick the most work. Fine. If you want a challenge, you will get one. Stay close to me in the forest. The rest of you spread out with Myrda."

  I held the slip carefully and adjusted my shield again. Hardest quest or not, I would finish it.

  The dwarven girl stuck her hand out toward me with the confidence of someone who had already decided how things were going to be. "Me name is Winnie Neckhammer. From Clan Neckhammer."

  I put my hand in hers. Her hand wrapped entirely around mine. It was warm, firm, and strong enough to crush walnuts.

  "My name is Azolo," I said. "Nice to meet you."

  Then I leaned back and headbutted her.

  The other kids gasped. Greta burst out laughing. Winnie blinked once, then grinned so wide her cheeks lifted.

  "I am going to like you, Azolo." Winnie smiled.