Marie paused outside the three-storey townhouse, despite the weight of the chest and the pouch of gold for the Spellswords, and looked up. Stone and brick. Timber. Glass windows with mullions. The lip of a tile roof was just about visible in the setting sun. She glanced down at Napoleon.

  “Early renaissance style. Close to northern European, though the glass is a higher quality than anything I’d have thought to see from that period. Skill use? How does a glassblower in Wayfarrow compare to one from the sixteenth century back home?”

  As soon as she got settled here she’d have time to investigate further. Maybe start writing up some observations and theories. Perhaps follow some workers around as she was compiling options for the guild’s approved list and see what their day-to-day was like? This might have been a strange new world, but she bet the lives of the poorer classes… or perhaps poorer Classes here… would bear notable similarities.

  But that was a task for another day, and Napoleon didn’t care. Right now…

  The sound of conversation and merriment was audible even outside. Marie balanced her chest on one knee - it didn’t actually feel all that heavy compared to the weeks she’d been lugging it round the countryside - and rapped the cast-iron doorknocker twice.

  A voice called out and the next thing she knew the door was opening to a familiar, large face, and Brunalda bent down to take her chest with a smile.

  “Marie! Just in time. I’ll get that for you. Come on in and meet the gang!”

  It was warm inside. Not that it had been cold outside, but the press of a dozen bodies in the lounge area she was pulled towards, with one of them a goliath, heated things up. Napoleon began sniffing at the amalgamation of items in the entrance hall but scampered after Marie as Brunalda pulled her along.

  Besides Brunalda and the four members of Sirrochon’s Spellswords (Fila hadn’t been invited it seemed), she recognsied a couple of people from her first night in town - last night. A few memories returned with the visual aids, but none of the names unfortunately. She made a mental note to not drink quite so much this time - even if it was all free and the adventurers seemed set on being most generous hosts. Fortunately, it seemed someone had briefed people on Napoleon, and the presence of the undead hound did little more than raise a couple of eyebrows.

  Sirro came to greet her, with Dap and Leam and Quartz right behind, and the Spellsword’s leader introduced her to the rest of the crowd, starting with their partner-team for the upcoming [Bandit] camp raid, Evermore’s Flame.

  “Of course you’ll be well acquainted with Brunalda now, but this here is Chuffa, Evermore’s [Dust Striker].” She shook the paw of what could have been an allagi from a distance, but up close looked like a bipedal hyena in leather armour. He grinned at her, revealing a startling array of sharp teeth.

  “Excuse the smell - I know gnolls have a reputation but honestly it’s my horse, not me. Been out scouting all day - though they say you might be able to help with that.”

  She returned the smile, though it was a little intimidating as he loomed over her, and made a non-commital noise that he snorted at before she was being shown on to the next person.

  Marie almost squeaked as a rodent-like face pushed up close to hers, a golden eye examining her closer than she’d have liked.

  A capybara?

  Brunalda’s massive hand descended and pushed the new person back a step as Napoleon arched his spine and bared his teeth. Or at least, bared them more obviously.

  “Fordin, please. A bit of space?” The goliath turned to Marie as she apologised for her teammate as he wandered off. “Forgive him. Most of his tribe of beastkin are more sociable, but he had a… difficult start to life. He’s a [Deadeye] - the best crossbowman you’re likely to find in Wayfarrow or anywhere nearby. It’s not so bad when he stands right next to you on a battlefield: he’s got a pavise almost as big as he is and I’ve sheltered behind it more than once when I needed a second to gather my mana - but in these situations it’s a bit intense.”

  The goliath had taken over from Sirro as the [Verseblade] went to grab someone, and Brunalda was about to introduce a slight, brunette girl with frizzy hair and bright eyes when Sirro returned, dragging a shorter man with an impressively athletic frame, perhaps a decade older than she was. Sirro handed her a glass of wine as he introduced the new man.

  “Marie, Eldun - leader of Evermore’s Flame; Eldun, Marie - the [Scout] and [Ruins Delver] we ran into on our recent trip.”

  “I’ve heard good things, Maire.” He held out his hand and she shook it. He had a firm, if perfunctory grip. “Rest assured we’re open to more members joining but don’t worry - I won’t pressure you like some people will.” His head tilted towards Sirro who feigned shock.

  “Thank you, Eldun. Perhaps when I’ve been a member of the guild more than a day I’ll have a chance to consider it more fully.”

  “Perhaps not, with the amount of work you’ve been doing over there from what I hear.”

  She smiled at his observation, then remembered.

  “Oh - I should probably finish the guild’s business before I forget.” She reached a hand under her jacket and pulled out the pouch. “This is the Spellswords cut from the sale of the snapjaw and echodeer meat.”

  Sirro gave a low whistle as he inspected the contents.

  “You do good work, and fast.”

  “It won’t be that generous every time - I managed to get a one-off deal with the [Butcher], but even with the guild’s cut an-”

  “Guild’s cut?” Sirro looked up, and the other adventurers looked over with similar expressions of confusion. “The guild only takes a cut of the wages.”

  “And the loot. I checked the codes.” Marie insisted. “But don’t worry, I’m working on ways to improve the guild for everyone.”

  That drew the rest of the people in, and for the next few minutes Marie found herself answering questions about these new practices she was putting in place. There was an undercurrent of irritation at the news of the guild taxes being levied on all their income - some of the faces were not happy at all - but they were mollified when she mentioned the potential access to guild gear and her idea of training up a new [Alchemist], and even more interested by some of her initiatives to get healing potions into the hands of adventurers more often.

  “Cheer up Sirro. Look at what she got you already, and I’d pay double the taxes if we get potions that don’t taste like the rear end of a bullfrog.”

  Brunalda’s comment made half the room chuckle and the other half blanche. As Sirro was getting over the unwelcome news and unpleasant mental image, the goliath [Mage] took the chance to introduce her to three people that would be joining them for the [Bandit] hunt, but who weren’t one of the two main teams.

  Chiritta was the squirrel-like lady she’d met in the tavern the previous night. She was definitely the oldest of the bunch, or at least the oldest-looking, but she laughed like a younger woman and drank like a fish. She was an [Itinerant Monk] who’d explored all over the continent.

  Aelind?, an actual [Adventurer] who seemed quite taken with Napoleon, and Embris, a [Fireblade Spearwoman] were an adventuring duo, and a couple too if Marie was any judge, and whilst Aelind? was so obviously an elf that it was almost offensive, she only had a vague inkling of what Embris was thanks to archaeology books that had dealt with myths and legend. Particularly a couple she’d read before Tunisia.

  As the faintly-glowing reddish skin and literally fire-like hair of the woman moved off to grab a glass of whisky, Marie leaned over to Dap and interrupted her enjoyment of a platter of raw fish slices.

  “Is she a djinn, Dap?”

  Dappled Shadow followed her gaze.

  “Who? Embris? She’s a genasi. Probably from the south. You don’t see her kind often. Especially not north of the Dirgeplains.”

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  Maire left her to enjoy the seafood and turned back to Brunalda who had just finished beating Chiritta in a drinking contest, though it had been surprisingly close.

  “Hey, was there not another one of your team?”

  The goliath woman turned around, none the worse for wear after downing three pints of ale, and smacked her head.

  “Right! Rina, our new [Rogue]. No guesses as to where she’ll be.”

  Leading her out into the hall, Brunalda gestured to the slender form hunched over Marie’s chest, frizzy hair blending into the shadows of the hall.

  If it hadn’t been for her [Twilight Vision], Marie suspected she wouldn’t have seen her at all.

  Sensing their gaze, the [Rogue] stood up and turned with an innocent smile.

  “Hey. You were busy so I thought I’d take a look. It’s a real doozy. My name’s Rina.”

  Marie shook her hand and looked down to where a set of lockpicks were unrolled on the ground. She glanced up at Brunalda, thinking to ask if going through peoples’ stuff was normal, but the [Mage] was focussed on the chest too and nothing in her expression suggested something was wrong.

  Ok. That is just how they do things then.

  The two members of Evermore’s Flame were already bending back over it in interest, and she chimed in to their discussion.

  “I tried before but I only had some small bones and [Basic Lockpicking]. It did not work, but perhaps with some real tools you may find success?”

  The [Rogue] didn’t even turn round. She was too absorbed in the chest.

  “I’ve not seen something quite like this before but I can certainly give it a go. Hey Brun, little help?”

  The [Mage] grunted.

  “{Light}”

  A pale glow suffused the goliath’s hand, and she bent awkwardly to bring it down to the level of the chest, before thinking better and picking the chest up in her other hand and bringing it to head-height for the two women beside her.

  “Thanks.”

  Rina got in as close as Marie ever had, and pushed and pulled Brunalda’s illuminated fingers around until she was satisfied. She mumbled a couple of things that Marie suspected were Skills under her breath - too quiet to hear - and set to work with the picks that hadn’t left her hands.

  After ten minutes of cursing and repositioning, Marie was losing the tingle of excitement that had been building. A couple of the others had wandered out to the hallway to see what was going on and had soon retreated back to the party atmosphere of the lounge, and after another ten minutes, Marie decided to join them, leaving Brunalda and Rina to wrack their brains over the puzzle of the chest.

  She angled towards Dap as she passed through the doorway but hesitated as she noticed that the elf-woman, Aelind?, was still knelt down playing with Napoleon. Her eyes widened as the [Adventurer] waved her finger at the dog in a slow, circular motion, and he did an awkward roll across the floor to the delight of the elf.

  I did not know he could do that. Is that what Guildmaster Thror meant about better training?

  Wanting to investigate further, she pushed it down her list of priorities for the moment as she found her tabaxi friend and kept her voice low.

  “Dap. I am sure it is okay, but is it safe to leave a [Rogue] with my chest?”

  The [Bladesinger] left off her glass of wine and got Marie to repeat the question before leaning over towards Eldun and whispering in his ear.

  He turned around with a relaxed smile.

  “As long as Brun is there, I am sure everything will be fine. Rina is trustworthy. Mostly. As far as we can tell. She's only been with us a few weeks.”

  Not entirely reassured, Marie nodded her thanks and went instead to find out exactly how Aelind? was doing that with her dog.

  —

  “Of course, when Aelind?’s [Nose for Adventure] started pulling us north, I had to give in.” Embris said, pulling over a plate of snacks to where they sat on the sofa watching the elf try to teach Napoleon how to beg. “It wouldn't have been my first choice, but wherever she leads us it's always exciting...” The genasi left off talking and scanned the room. “...even a cinderlog place like this.”

  “I give up!”

  The exclamation from Rina as she entered the lounge drew all eyes to her. From across the other side of the room, Eldun called out comfort.

  “Don’t worry about it. Treat it as practice. You’ll get there with time.”

  Rina snorted in reply and grabbed a mug of ale.

  “I’m not bothered - I’m excited! I’m almost definitely going to level from trying. I can feel it. And if I can’t open it with [Lockpicking Training] and [Dextrous Picks] and Brunalda can’t open it with magic - what’s inside?”

  That caused a ripple of murmurs around the room as Eldun checked with Brunalda, who shrugged. Marie didn’t like the look that came into a couple of eyes and cleared her throat to get attention.

  “I must thank you for trying, Rina. What level will you reach next time you level up?”

  “Level 19 [Rogue].”

  Marie kept from flinching. The girl barely seemed nineteen herself and she was a higher level, if only just. She hadn’t noticed that her own level gain had slowed drastically since leaving the undead city. Did most people level fast and then tail off? She tried to keep a casual edge to her voice.

  “That sounds quite advanced for someone of such a young age. What about everybody else? How far along as adventurers were you at Rina’s age? Who is the highest level here?”

  A couple of people traded glances and appraising looks before Aelind? left off from playing with Napoleon for a moment.

  “I certainly wasn’t much of an [Adventurer] at nineteen. You’re doing well Rina.” She turned to Marie. “Us half-elves tend to level slower than you other species, but we live longer. I know all of your kind like to be equal in age to level, but I was seventy-one before I reached level 20 as an [Adventurer]. And that’s quite fast for my kind. I’m only level 24 even now.”

  Marie blinked. The elven woman didn’t look a day over thirty. Off to one side, Sirro coughed.

  “The rest of us don’t all aim to keep our levels a match with our age, Aelind?. Only the most prodigious talents can keep that up, especially past thirty or so. It’s a credit to Rina that she might hit level 20 before she’s twenty years old. Most of us are happy if we’re within ten levels of our age. I’m a 26 [Verseblade]; I have been for a while but I’m hoping this next venture gets me to 28. There’s only so many times a year you can risk your life for more levels without being suicidal.”

  “22 [Mage].” Brunalda said, drawing a shocked look from Rina. The goliath chuckled. “We part-giants struggle too, but we make up for it in other ways.” She patted an arm thicker than Marie’s leg.

  Everyone began to share their levels, and all bar Rina and Marie were around the mid-20s, but the gnoll, Chuffa, reassured her that being a level 17 [Scout] and a 13 [Ruins Delver] was impressive for someone who’d not yet reached their quarter-century mark. Chuffa himself was almost thirty and only level 21 in his [Dust Striker] Class, though it had consolidated from his [Rider] and [Skirmisher] Classes last year when they’d both reached level 20. He seemed particularly proud of that.

  Gradually though, all eyes turned to Chiritta. The squirrel-lady was fit and sprightly, but clearly the oldest of them all - save Aelind?.

  She ignored the stares and continued eating the same wedge of cheese she’d been nibbling on for the last half hour.

  There was a full minute of utter silence as the group pitted their will against hers.

  Eventually she sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “Fine. I turned forty-eight this year.”

  …

  …

  She finished her cheese before she consented to furnish the group with the other piece of information they now desperately wanted.

  “[Itinerant Monk]... level 37.”

  Leam let out a low, musical whistle.

  “Damp string. You must be a higher level than Guildmaster Thror.”

  The monk shrugged. “Around the same I think. He’s a few years my junior. Knew him when he was still an adventurer. He hit Gold rank and retired from active adventuring soon after.”

  “But how are you ranked Silver?” Dap asked, eyes wide. “You should be Gold for sure - not far off Platinum.”

  Chiritta shook her head. “Nope. Might get Gold if I hit 40. Doubt I’ll ever reach Platinum.”

  “Why?” Dap asked, and before the monk could answer, Sirro cut in.

  “Gear.”

  The squirrel-woman nodded.

  “Adventuring is one part levels, one part experience, one part gear. I got the first two but I’m a [Monk] Class. Worse than that - an [Itinerant Monk]. Beyond a few potions and a couple of trinkets - no Quartz I won’t tell you what they are - I never have much gear.” She gauged each and every person in the room with a quick glance. “Without being arrogant, I could probably take any of you in a one-on-one…” she hesitated as she considered Brunalda, and wavered on Aelind?, but no one seemed prepared to deny her statement, “...but I’m less use on a large scale. Forget battles. Dungeons ain’t my thing either; too close and too many traps.”

  Half the room were nodding sagely but it seemed insane to Marie. This woman had years of experience and was more than twice her level, but she was ranked only a little above her by the guild.

  …I’ll have to review the guidelines and practices.

  The squirrel-woman laughed off a question from Leam.

  “Silver rank pays enough for me. I don’t need no fancy lifestyle… as long as the Nocino keeps flowing I’m happy.”

  That got a cheer from Sirro and Embris as Quartz leapt up to one of the higher shelves in the room and grabbed a bottle down to toss to the monk, who insisted that everyone get a shot.

  —

  Hours later Marie stumbled into the guild, half-led by Napoleon.

  She recognised the blur at the counter. A woman.

  Willimi? Wimillia?

  She gave up and waved a hand in her direction as she headed for the room that had been set aside for her purposes. As she put a hand to the handle she stopped and swayed, and looked down at Napoleon, eyes wide with concern.

  “Merde! The chest Boney!”

  The undead hound simply snuffled at her feet.

  “Right. That is right. We left it with Rina and Brun.”

  How long she stood there for she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t until a voice drifted over from the counter asking if she was alright that she realised she should probably move.

  “It ish okay to leave it with them, right Napoleon? Maybe we should go back and get it… just to be safe.”

  But the table was so close, and the sight of it reminded her of what she’d come to do.

  A list of the adventures was more or less fixed in her head - their Classes, levels. Some Skills. She should update the guild’s records whilst they were fresh…

  Ink splotched onto her arm and she cursed, and then mumbled something worse as she saw the state of the paper and the table. Invisible weights were pulling her eyelids down, but she’d taken payment from the guild. She needed to do this.

  …but maybe a quick nap first…

  She was asleep before her head was fully settled on the desk.

  [Secretary Class Obtained!]

  [Secretary Level 7!]

  [Skill – Mental Ledger gained!]

  [Skill – Rapid Transcription gained!]

  [Skill – Basic Level Analysis gained!]

  [Skill – Sense Lie gained!]

  [Conditional Skill – Guild Seal: Wayfarrow Adventurer’s Guild granted!]

  Marie stirred from her sleep for a moment, before unconsciousness claimed her.

  "Putain non, mais t’es sérieux?"

  Hi all! Welcome to my book, Miscast Heroes.

  I'm uploading a few chapters to start with and then will upload one a day after.

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